[Preshow] The Lobby and the Park

[Karl Jak]

Players arrive at the far end of the 'Lobby', a grand hallway at the centerpiece of a lavish, modern facility that is connected to four large domes. At the far end of the hallway is an elevator that leads up to the barracks on the top floor. Behind the arrival point is the first of these domes, the Park. The Park resembles Central Park and contains a small lodge where they sell picnic goods and rent athletic equipment. Over the duration of the convention, the ceiling of the Park simulates natural-ish, 24-hour day and night cycles. The stars displayed at night would be unrecognizable to 98% of people at the Preshow Facility.

 

[Gildarts]

Christine held her blade up, gazing at the sliver of her reflection and eyeing the fresh blood covering only one side of her cheek. Her black eyes blinked as she noted the fresh bloom of hue in her hair. The burden of murder had stained her in scarlet.

With a lift of her forearm the woman flicked the trickles of blood that were coating her sword, swishing the droplets instead to the ground. She exhaled remorse. As Jenkins’ life came to a close, there was one less person to defy her. Plus, she had done him a mercy. She’d made it painless.

“W-what w-w-w,” Christine heard a whimpering sound coming from a lump of green on the ground. The woman towered over the mass that looked like a mere moss covered rock at first glance.

As the six foot tall woman loomed closer, casting her glance on the tiniest piece of living flesh she’d ever seen, she began to ready her sword again. She would finish everything in her path to get what she wanted.

Except. The creature’s eyes gazed up at her. At the slim blade ready to make a single, effortless strike. The little goblin looked at the blade about to deliver its death with a distinct… Unknowing. It did not know it had been fated to die. It did not know that a single piece of silver could reap death. The ignorance of innocence caught her by surprise.

Her last victim’s voice haunted her, echoing in the corners of her mind where she would hear it loudest. “What if your soul is in a child’s body and has a chance to live a better life than you did?”

Her eyes fell on the blood, Jenkins’ blood, who’d died in the name of virtue and innocence.

“W-what’s t-this doing awwl over m-me?” The petite creature dabbed at the warm moisture with its fingers as if the coins of transparent color were mere drops of paint.

Christine blinked quizzically. She considered the blood in her hands. The blood on her own skin and face. Then her mind fell back on the little verdant creature. The blood was the same. It was the blood alone that saved this little goblin of a horrible fate.

Instead, she sheathed her blade and knelt down to the little creature. “Allo, mon ame perdue.” With her French dialect, some words had more weight on her tongue than others.“You seem to ‘ave evaded my eye. Little creature. What is your name? What ever would you be here for?”

“M-my name is S-Sw-Swuwt.” He began to say.

She blinked. Unsure of the hesitant creature’s cadence.

Perhaps this creature had been entered because if it saw the moon it turned into a giant… Creature. Perhaps this goblin child was special. Well, it had to have been, for she’d spared its life.

Christine placed her bloodied hand on the back of the goblin creature and said, “Well, my name’s Christine. You can also call me Madame, if you like. It is good to meet you. I’ll tell you what I’m doing here, should it please you.” She began to whisper, “But it’s a secret. I am here looking for my soul. It could be alive within anyone else in the competition. I have to cut it out of each and every one of them. Then, when I win, I’ll be meeting Karl Jak. Because it is my understanding he is the Reaper. A man I’m looking for who could save me a lot of time if I don’t find it here. Tell me, little amie, what would you do to find your soul?”

The goblin child perhaps knew nothing of what she had said. However, this amused the Murder Madame as their stories began to pour together.

Slurt, blood, and the tangles of fate.

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

She was finally here. Dante's abyss. the soft thump of rubber boots on the floor was hardly a grand entrance, but that was fine. All Chara needed to do was show off her skills and...

and what?

Wisps of black seeped off the blade mage, and she was left to clutch her chest as she felt something nasty inside her, something she instinctually fought and pushed back.

"the trap... is sprung.'

"You..." Chara growled, before realizing exactly where she'd found herself. groping instinctively for her knife, what she'd been doing came back to her slowly, like remembering a dream. She...

Chara bit off a snarl before it could start, taking a moment to compose herself. a calm attitude and well-paced breathing only went so far, especially in the all-too-bright confines of the lobby to Dante's abyss.

Chara's hands balled into fists as the realization went through her of what was going on, but she slowly, gently, unstretched them as she gave a sigh. She hadn't watched a lot of DA, but she'd heard from long-time watchers - some claiming to be from other places, that had been around for longer than it seemed to actually be running, that there was usually someone who'd gotten drafted here against their will, though this was a little more creative than getting stuffed in a bag or knocked out...

She also recalled hearing that there are no take-backs in entering Dante's abyss, and she wasn't about to offend a cosmic space god right about now with an argument to the contrary. She already got herself banned from Darkseid's Spacebook page, after all.

Slowly, she rose from a hunched over position and forced her usual, plastic smile, putting her arms behind her and resting her head against her pink mittens as she checked out the area with interest. She had to admit it was probably the most glitzed up place she'd hoped to never see personally.

"Save is in... oh geez, it's still in Ebbott. Going to be a surprise to the flower when I respawn after this." Chara noted with a frown, considering her options.

She supposed there was nothing stopping her from exiting the old-fashioned way, considering. she didn't particularly want to be part of a murder gauntlet, and her life was at least guaranteed to continue, unlike a lot of the potential dead in this competition. She focused upon her scarlet magic, ready to end this here and now. Cute as the place was, it'd also be pretty rude to waste everyone's time by wasting any time, and the idea of dying again still made her a little hesitant. Might make it less than quick, and she knew from experience it was always better quick.

"Promise me, Chara." A voice knocked against the back of her mind. One she'd answered in the affirmative

"...He wouldn't seriously expect me to keep that promise, even in this situation, could he?" Chara asked aloud, knives forming and fading in wisps around her. "...Nah, he would." Chara groaned, before placing her hands back in her pocket. "...Damnit." she groaned. She couldn't exactly break another promise to her brother so soon. besides... she couldn't guarantee something might not happen if she tried it. The creature that had forced her here, Kabraxis... he didn't attack her brother directly, but he very well could have. She didn't see him for a large part of the day, so that simpler plan could still happen, and may have happened since she'd left regardless. However, he might change his plans if she just offed herself.

No, looks like she had to play this out... besides, much as she wasn't interested in a crew of murderers indulging in violence, most of the time these were filled to the brim with violent, psychotic creatures. She could at least try to angle the competition towards crowning someone decent the winner this year, and shut down a few psychotic rampages along the way - hopefully, anyways.

Her eyes flashed to a normal hazel as she took a few steps forward. Well, it was time to go do some reading. find out what was actually happening in the event this year, check for a phone of some sort she could use, and try not to vomit from the sudden, unexpected level of stress.

She made it about seven steps before failing that last part.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund’s stomach churned as he stepped from the teleporter. Had his will not been as iron-clad as it was, he probably would have retched his last meal onto the spotlessly Syntech floors. Some things you just never get used to. Looking around the lobby, he searched for a Syntech employee, anyone who would have a direct line to the event’s showrunner. As the psion searched, his hand came to rest on the satchel that rested at his hip. The night before sign-ups, the cultist’s slumber had been all but peaceful, his mind wracked by a message from Gal’skap, and he had awoken to a gift on his bedside table. A gift for Karl Jak.

It didn’t take long to find an employee, with a young man, apparently busy man crossing paths with the high priest. A quick glance at his name tag as Sigmund waved him down revealed him to be ‘Kevin’. Vague recognition briefly crossed his mind, but it faded quickly as he approached the Syntech employee.

“Sorry, I’m really busy with preparations right now.” Kevin said quickly, attempting to move around the cultist. Before he could, however, Sigmund side-stepped to cut him off and began to reach into the satchel.

“Oh, don’t worry, this’ll be quick. I just have something for Karl Jak.” He said, fumbling around in the bag for a moment before retrieving what Gal’skap had compelled him to deliver to Mr. Jak the moment the Old God became aware that His cultist would be taking part in this year’s Abyss:

A bottle of wine.

Kevin blinked at the gift for a second before furrowing his brow in an uncertain expression.

“Um… huh. I’m not really sure what the protocol is for this one. A contestant delivering gifts…” The assistant trailed off, mumbling something about someone called ‘Ronny’ and a heap of legal jargon that meant nothing at all to the cultist.

“It’s not from me.” Sigmund insisted, pushing the bottle into his hands. “Tell Mr. Jak that it’s from Gal’skap. I think it’s a vintage that doesn’t exist anymore. Something about a collapsing reality? I’m not sure, it was a weird dream.”

“I… Ok.” Kevin said, evidently deciding that he had already spent too much time not working and that it was best to get this interaction over as quickly as possible. He reluctantly took the wine and, checking his watch with a worried face, rushed through a nearby ‘employees only’ door that the scion had been body-blocking him from entering.

With that done, Sigmund smiled cheerfully to himself and turned around, wondering how to spend his time while waiting for the show to start. Stroking his chin in thought, he approached the nearest set of signs for inspiration, idly wondering if they still had an arcade before his thoughts drifted to Okuyasu and Ashe-0 who he had played video games with in his last DA. It wasn’t easy to forget what happened with Ashe, but he had no idea what had happened to Okuyasu once the age had started. Other than an unfortunate demise, of course.

The scholar’s thoughts were pushed aside, however, as his eyes came to rest on a sign that read ‘library’ and his fate was sealed. Really, what kind of intrepid seeker of forbidden knowledge would he be if he didn’t go to the Abyss library right that instant? And, going so fast that he nearly slipped and face-planted, that’s exactly what Sigmund did.

 

[Shinku]

Shinku, or rather Trevor’s vision flickered, upon arriving at the other end of the portal. A nauseating sensation overcame him, freezing the assassin of shadows in place like an unstable statue. He despised the mode of transport, as for him, it felt like being ripped apart, then reformed at another place. He could have used his shadow pass instead, had he known the exact location where he had been taken to.

Gradually, his vision adjusted to the scenery before him. His eyes ushered him to the view of a grandiose hallway, notable for its modern, sleek interior. He felt the presence of a cold steel that hung by his neck, which reminded him of the collar that a staff placed on him before entering the portal. The piece of metal didn’t seem to weigh that much, in fact, it was almost non existent if not for its cold sensation on his skin. His body however, felt a bit heavier from before. He examined his own body. He couldn’t have gotten fatter have he? His frame felt the same but he couldn't deny the extra weight, being unable to move as quickly as he used to. Though a bit disappointed, he decided to brush the thought off at the moment and decided to check around instead.

Trevor’s first thought was to proceed to the other end of the hallway but his senses immediately led him to the presence of a couple of beings behind him. As he turned, he took immediate notice of an open exit, partially framing the sight of a park. He took his steps, still getting used to his body’s weighty feel. As he left the hallway, the full view of the park welcomed him. Lawns, meadows and grassy fields dominated most of the area. The park however, felt almost empty save for the staffed food stands, enclosed in a small space near the gate. The sight of a pond before him suddenly struck him with nostalgia of his old hometown. Adding to his weighty body, a bit of heaviness in his heart caused a momentary downcast emotion for the assassin of shadows. He took a deep breath in an attempt to cast his sorrow aside then went on, making his way to the small lodge where the stalls were.

“Do you happen to know who this is?,” Trevor inquired, waving a photo of Jak and Daxter at a vendor inside the lodge.

“Of course I know who that is! That’s Jak! He placed 5th place in this tournament a couple of years ago. Or…errr, was that last year…or maybe the other year?,” the lady behind a hotdog stand responded with full enthusiasm, though gradually ended in a stuttering tone.

“Is he here?,” the assassin of shadows followed up almost instantly, breaking the lady’s deep thought.

“Not that I know of. You were barely the second one who arrived. But who knows, he might fancy himself to join DA again this year,” the vendor stated, with a sweet smile. “We still have at least a week or two before the actual event so I guess you just have to wait till then,” she continued, keeping her charming smile at Trevor.

The assassin of shadows on the other hand, simply bowed in a gesture of gratitude without uttering more words. He turned back and was about to leave when the vendor called him out.

“Oh! Would you fancy a hotdog sandwich dear?,” the lady offered.

“Sure,” Trevor responded without hesitation, before pulling up some coins from his pocket.

“Perfect!,” the lady exclaimed, after accepting Trevor’s payment in exchange for the snack she offered.

His odds seemed low on finding the eco warrior, though the vendor’s words left him a sliver of hope. He hadn’t gotten any better lead on finding the culprit behind his clan’s murder except for the information that Jak had. He offered another gesture of gratitude before taking his leave. He thought of asking the other vendors around or the staff by the athletics shop but he deemed it too early to ask further considering the scarcity of the participants that had arrived. Instead, he decided to explore the place a bit more, until the rest of the participants make it to the event’s place.

 

[Josuke Higashikata]

Josuke steps out of the teleporter, already feeling fresh as he takes his first step on Dante's Comet. He breathes in the clean air, already smelling delicious cooking from the recreation dome. The lobby appears rich and clean, making it possibly the most luxurious place Josuke has visited. It had brought him excitement and curiosity as to who would be competing in this competition. Maybe he'll make new friends or foes, but standing here and admiring the lobby will not get anything done.

There was a strange metallic feeling around his neck he didn't have when back in Morioh. His hand reaches for his neck to feel, and a collar becomes wrapped around his own throat. Strange, he didn't recognize this thing when in the tent. Maybe he got it before teleporting to this place, but he does recall something on the form that did have rules about wearing a strange device that can affect his stand, Crazy Diamond. The collar brings curious thoughts for him to wonder how his stand has become affected. He'll have to test this out for later, but for now, it's probably best to see if anyone else is here beside him.

Walking around the lobby, Josuke couldn't help but look at all the pretty interior that the foyer welcomes the contestants. He walks past a thriving, beautiful park that is peaceful to take a walk in but outdoors wasn't really on his mind. Maybe he'll drop in the recreation dome to get a snack or drink that be refreshing to have. A dojo can be helpful to train his stand and learn what is working for Crazy Diamonds powers. Then there was a library, not a place Josuke hangs out in a lot, but there could be an awesome manga collection that can be relaxing to read through. Quite the places to visit but which one to choose?

In the meantime, Josuke takes a comb out of his pocket to brush his hair while thinking. It would be great if he had a friend that signed up with him in this competition, but all his pals were busy for personal reasons. He finishes fixing his pompadour to look presentable if coming across someone on this comet. All the optional places are open to him to explore, making him still think about where he wants to go. After pondering for a couple of minutes, he decided and walked further inside the great comet.

"This is gonna be great."

 

[Lilith]

Instant teleportation, and she cannot emphasize this enough, is not Lilith's thing. Wormholes are the far superior method of travel. Although, if she had to compare it, this was sort of like every one of your individual atoms getting sucked into tiny wormholes. Was everything in the right place? She had no idea, and no time to care about it.

Too fancy, too flashy, too opulent. The lobby was far and above the worst part about this whole event. But, she wasn't about to make a big fuss over it. Only after she scrutinized the room in disgust did she notice the deep red accents staining her dress. "Keheh… Not too bad a look," she murmured to nobody in particular.

Seemed everyone was getting all nice and familiar with each other. Why not do the same? All she had to do was loiter around in the lobby… but not next to all these prim and proper pests. With a running start, she sprung straight up to the ceiling, bouncing off a chandelier along the way. Once her fingertips grazed the roof, she laid down flat on her new floor.

She kept the boredom at bay as she absently gnawed on herself, watching competitors file in from the teleporter, each one hardly distinguishable from the last. To her surprise, black splotches welled up from her bite marks. Guess I can still do that, for now.

"My oh my~" Lilith started paying very close attention to the sassy blue shortstack. "Who is this semen demon?" She was tempted to smother the fun sized woman right there, but alas, her self-restraint won out.

"Ugh. There's a textbook hero if I've ever seen one." Josuke Higashikata. An average teenager on the outside. Behind that, though, a spirit user. Of what nature, she cannot say. "What's he supposed to be, some Japanese high school student? Wait, Japan… could it be?" As the possibilities ran through her mind, she spotted a familiar mask, one she was ecstatic to see.

Plummeting from the ceiling like a trap placed specifically for them, Lilith landed in front of the infamous doctor, creating a noticeable crater in the ground. "Well! If it ain't my favorite mad scientist. Was wondering when ya'd show up. Did ya miss me?~"

Caustic would barely flinch, only looking up through his mask. "Miss Lillith....An unexpected pleasure. Your 'buying me time' was instrumental to my escape, and for that I would extend a favor. I do not grant them lightly."

"A favor..." She gave the man a once-over from top to bottom. "I'll definitely be cashing that in very soon. Say, a swift end to a common rival. Hmhmhm~ I can get used to meeting like this." She brushed a finger along their festive respirator.

The old man would tense and take a step back. "A favor does not translate to familiarity, woman. Remember this. I am not one of your toys. I am an equal." He stares her right in the eyes.

"Certainly, doctor." As a sign of her utmost respect, she bows. "I would never dream of turning you into the object of my fantasies. I mean, you're an evil guy. I dig that. If you wanted to do some experiments on me, though… just hit me up."

"While I admire your commitment, I find your vulgarity distasteful." He clears his throat and turns to leave. "My aid is a gift. Not some new sundry for you to rub yourself with. Ask Anders what my aid can accomplish."

"Yeah, that's a good idea! I mean, rubbing myself and talking to Anders— Oh. Bye~" Her wave would not be returned by the solitary doctor.

Let's see. Anyone else?

Nope. Just another hero type. Very tribal. He's pretty well built.

Alright, now she's done here. Maybe she'll find something that'll satisfy her in the Recreation Dome.

 

[Anders Nazret]

“Lovely,” Anders muttered as he thumbed through a copy of The Recorded History of Erde Nona - Volume I, borrowed from the comet’s library.

Why was he surprised? Revisionists have had centuries upon centuries of time to rewrite Arcadia’s history as they saw fit. Even more frustrating was that, for the most part, it was an accurate recounting of events. The discrepancies, however, were aptly placed so as to push a specific narrative - only detectable to someone with first-hand experience such as himself. Exasperated, he set the book down on the park bench and stood up.

Without a destination in mind he began to wander through the simulated environment. Sunlight bathed his skin and filled his body with a warm glow. A gentle breeze caressed his nostrils with the scent of freshly-bloomed flowers. It was pleasant. But, this too was a farce, wasn’t it? A false reality, lovingly crafted by Syntec’s engineers. As artificial as it was, if he were born into such a reality would he be able to determine its falsehood? Would it even be false at that point? This, he realized, was the tortured plight of Arcadian’s citizens. Prisoners who were unaware of their imprisonment. Sufferers who have not recognized their suffering.

As his heart rate began to rise he paused and reminded himself that this was his purpose. This was why he had relentlessly trained his body and mind. He was meant to herald an era of justice and to lay low the false king’s regime. There was solace in that fact. There was comfort in knowing his destiny would be in service to the True Heir. He exhaled a long held breath. Even now he moved ever closer to his goal, and if it meant dispatching some amateur combatants then so be it. All there was to do now was to wait for the abyss to begin.

So he moved from the footpath into the grass field towards a copse of trees. Perhaps he could eke out some rest there, far away from the prying eyes of any journalists. Instead of solitude he instead came across a man sitting in silence. At his approach the man opened his eyes and stared at him without a word. He was well-built, no doubt the result of a rigorous training regimen. His eyes were cold, stony, and calculating. Such casual intensity gave Anders a momentary pause before he stepped forward into the hidden grove to introduce himself.

“Greetings, my name is Anders Nazret, Herald of the True Heir,” He said, “Do you mind if I join you in your solitude?”

He nodded for Anders to sit, “My name is Kolith.”

“Well, Kolith,” Anders eased himself to a sitting position, “Seems there is time to kill… what brings you to this bloodsport?”

There was no harm in becoming familiar with the competition. Perhaps Kolith would reveal exploitable information, or perhaps not. While Anders was not above employing such insidious tactics, his intent was nothing more than passing the time. So he offered his counterpart an easy smile and mirrored the man’s lotus position, waiting intently for a response.

 

[Ganondorf]

The man declared as Anders joined Kolith in his meditative pose among the simulated natural landscape. Despite having lived in a thick, unpopulated forest for months, Kolith’s immediate instinct was to return to the trees. Perhaps it was to steady his nerves, ones that were in the background, consciously invisible to him. Regardless, it comforted him.

He hadn’t envisioned that another contestant would initiate a conversation. Surely humanising the opponents they would need to kill would only worsen the determination required to prevail? Did this Anders not understand the full gravity of the tournament? Could he be digging for clues on Kolith’s weaknesses? Or was he just bored?

Kolith closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting out the breath as he answered. “A personal quest. One which I don’t deem to discuss.”

“A secret personal quest,” Anders said. “I can appreciate that. I hope I didn’t offend you by asking.”

“There is no offense taken, Anders,” Kolith replied. “It is the simple truth.”

“Simple truths are the best ones,” Anders said. “Though they can be much more complicated beneath the surface.”

Kolith opened his eyes. This one seemed more prone to reflection than Kolith would have presumed of a death battle gladiator. Was that a good or bad thing?

“Indeed. You mentioned something in your greeting. A title. Herald to the True Heir. What does that reference?”

"It references the true heir of Arcadia's throne, Eulalia," Anders explained, pausing momentarily as if he was searching for the words, "They were the child of Trevon XI, and when he passed they were meant to rule in his stead. Eulalia was slain by traitorous curs and a false heir was installed, allowing Arcadia to mature into its decrepit form we see today... The current king is a dreadful imposter and hanging would be too good an end for him and his sycophants."

Kolith knew little about the kingdom of Arcadia, the de facto ruler of all of Erde Nona. They focused intently on the capital city and virtually left the rest of the land to fend for itself. Living an isolated life on the farm, it had never influenced him one way or another. The politics of the kingdom mattered even less now that he had become the Elder Spirit Vessel. Still he saw a passion and integrity not unlike his own, even if it was for something as inconsequential as a fallen imperial dynasty.

Did that make it harder to fight a man of principle? Or would it be better to clash with such a fighter, regardless of the outcome, instead of some thoughtless barbarian? Did it even matter?

“You are very loyal, to risk your life for the honour of their bloodline,” Kolith said. “But how will you achieve your rebellion here?”

 

[Aster]

Teleportation. That was a new one. Or at least, this particular flavor of it was. And the taste it left in her mouth, from the contents of her stomach briefly occupying the same spatio-temporal (or some other sufficiently sci-fi gobbledygook) area as her tongue during the 'landing', was also a new one.

She didn't necessarily want to repeat either one.

One hand covered her mouth in a futile effort to stem the wave of bile rising up her throat as she staggered dumbly out into the lobby of Syntech's grand ode to bloodsport. Several quick, drunkenly-stumbling steps later brought her to what she was sure was a very expensive oversized flowerpot, holding an obnoxiously expensive and painstakingly maintained plant that was probably only half-fake. Her clawed fingers grasped onto the rim as she slumped over the side, head hanging down near the very-real and not at all synthetic dirt, as she heaved once.

"Gurgch....fuck..."

Twice.

"Hagch...shit..."

And then retched.

"....ugh...f-fucking—"

She coughed and dry-heaved again from the lingering taste in her mouth. Then she sucked n a deep breath, sucked up the lingering rumbles of queasy ocean in her guts, and stood up straight, quickly staggering away from her ejected stomach contents. She hunched her shoulders, trying to get her ragged breathing under control and pointedly ignored the displeased looks of a nearby Syntech employee as she retreated with her tail between her legs. Figuratively and literally.

She pulled her phone out as she went, fumbling through it until she pulled up her texts, to quickly message the first one to come to mind. "Mako. Just in case you were wondering: teleportation fucking sucks. Zero outta ten. Do not recommend." And then it was back into her pocket as she forced herself upright and kicked the drunken limp-stumble to the proverbial curb and darted through one of the hallways out of the lobby, and away from the blasted evil of the teleporter.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Warmth. That was the first thing Gascoigne noticed about the Dante’s Abyss Convention lobby. Not the blindingly bright lights illuminating the space, nor the lavishly-decorated assortment of tables and plush couches dotting the hall, but the staggeringly pleasant warmth blooming in the air. In spite of the nausea burning in his gut, the hunter had to marvel at the simple experience of being warm once more, especially after so very long.

Breathing came easily again, his lungs no longer brittle with cold, an odd tingling sensation filling his leaden muscles as his limbs were suffused with heat. Like glacial mountains in a thaw, the tension that had been strung throughout Gascoigne’s body—tighter than any bowstring and just as poised to snap—gradually began to melt.

The priestly hunter shook himself like a dog, little flakes of snow falling from his shoulders in a dusting of chipped ice, the frosty remnants of Inverxe’s subterranean passages surrendering their powerful hold on him at last. Condensation dripped from his skin and clothing in rivers, forming a puddle on the smooth tile under his boots, but Gascoigne was long past caring. It was like stepping out into a warm summer’s day after being subjected to the most bitter winter imaginable, his senses drawn out of a long sleep, unfurling to drink in all the sights and sounds available to him.

“Ah,” the man sighed, fingers twitching around the grip of his axe, the feeling slowly returning to them as the heat seeped back into his hands. “Now that’s more like it.”

“Erm… excuse me, sir.”

Gascoigne turned his head. He hadn’t heard the young lady approach, the sound of her footsteps sinking into the soft velvet of the rug lining the rest of the open corridor, but he could perceive her well enough, now.

A woman of barely twenty years stared back at him, the purple shirt she wore appearing identical to the other employees he had encountered back in the cavern. A glint of silver caught his attention, his focus shifting to the necklace tied securely at her throat, its butterfly pendant perfectly complementing the reddish-brown color of her skin.

Naturally, the hunter towered over her without quite meaning to do so. The young woman shifted nervously, playing with short brown hair that was cut into an oddly choppy-seeming style. A pair of thin braids trailed down from her temples, Gascoigne noted, wrapping neatly around the crown of her head.

“You’re Mr. Gascan, aren’t you?” she ventured in a delicate voice, stammering a little on the improper pronunciation of his name. “My coworker Amanda on the other end of the teleportation device said you’d be along shortly...”

With a reluctant shudder, Gascoigne gentled his demeanor— the rigid slant of his shoulders loosening somewhat even as he loomed over her. Unwitting intimidation was a consequence of his height that he struggled with all too often; though he usually relished inspiring terror in his prey with his fierce silhouette on a moonlit night of hunting, it was much harder to appear…soft… in the light of day. Nevertheless, he attempted it, smoothing his facial expression into one of idle interest for the young lady’s benefit.

“Father Gascoigne, actually,” the priestly man chuckled, sharp canines sneering from under his half-cocked lips. “… but try not to trouble yourself over it.”

The lady’s eyes widened, her face crumpling with the force of her wince. “Oh! Of course, Father Gascoigne, my mistake! I’ll, hah, be sure to remember that in the future. My name is Charlotte, I’m a representative of Syntech meant to assist you with the signup process, but you can just call me Charlie. Everyone does.”

“Charlie,” the silver-haired hunter repeated, still maintaining some of his good humor. He dipped his head in a slight nod, expression brimming with amusement. “Very well.”

There was silence for a long moment as the pair simply looked at each other, the young woman’s eyes trying and failing not to gaze upon the bloody, ragged bandages marring the hunter’s face. It was enough to make a man self-conscious… and if Gascoigne were a weaker man, it very well might have.

Finally, Charlie seemed to rally herself, tilting her head back to look him directly in the face. “So, Amanda said she asked you to fill out some paperwork. Do you… happen to have those forms on hand for me?”

“Ah,” Gascoigne searched about himself for a moment, having forgotten all about the little scraps of paper the two Syntech employees had cajoled him into bringing with him. Why they wanted to know so much about him, he had little clue, but the results of the interview were now immortalized in ink and paper. Joy.

Large fingers crinkling the pages a bit, he held them out to Charlie. “Here.”

The young woman practically snatched the papers from his grasp, trying to ignore the goosebumps forming across her neck and arms as the hunter’s knuckles brushed against her own. He smelled just plain frightful, like a mangy, wet dog mixed with the stale smell of old blood. Just being around him was enough to set off little alarm bells inside her brain. Though he had shown her nothing but politeness thus far, something seemed decidedly… off about the good hunter. But maybe she was judging him too harshly.

Charlie looked the forms over, quickly thumbing through them. Visibly eager to get this all over and done with. “Right, good deal! Everything seems to be in order here. Now, if you could just deposit your weapons and all items used for healing or communications over there, please,” she said, nodding to a series of cubby-like fixtures set nearby. “They’ll be returned to you after the competition.”

But Gascoigne didn’t move to do as she had asked. Instead, the hunter’s head canted to the side, the corners of his mouth pitching downward into a frown.

“I believe I’ve misheard you,” he said, even though such a thing was laughable. Once his eyesight had begun to wane due to the effects of the scourge, his other senses had heightened to compensate for the lack— the woman’s breath, voice and smell were clear as day to him, even if the finer visual details were more difficult to discern. Truly, at this point he was being polite by leaving her room to retract her statement. “You have asked me to abandon the tools of my trade?”

The young woman glanced up from where she’d been quite occupied with perusing his paperwork, her face turning ashen in alarm.

“Oh, no no no! Not that, never. Syntech won’t keep your stuff,” Charlie hastened to explain. “It’s just that… your current weapons can’t be used in the competition, they might be too strong and that’ll remove much of the challenge. So, for the purposes of the event, you’ll be provided with new ones.”

Gascoigne inclined his head in understanding. “As you say,” he said, unslinging his axe from his shoulder in a mighty flourish.

With great lurching footsteps, he walked over and delicately placed it inside one of the cubbies, ensuring that the fearsome weapon would not slide from where it was propped up against the back wall. His pistol came next, unveiled from somewhere deep inside his heavy hunter’s coat. The metal appeared tarnished and worn in the brightness of the lobby, still streaked with bits of beastly viscera.

Grumbling lightly, Gascoigne deposited it right beside the axe. With any luck, he would find the time to do maintenance on his weapon later.

When he turned back around, Charlie had returned from a nearby desk, apparently having filed his paperwork away. The color had returned to her cheeks by then, a bronzy glow overtaking her face as she smiled at him.

“And there you go, all done!” she chirped. “Consider yourself officially signed up for Dante’s Abyss, Father Gascoigne.”

The hunter tipped his hat to her. “Much obliged.”

Seeming to remember something all at once, Charlie glanced at her watch. Her mouth formed a little ‘o’ of surprise, one hand flying up to lightly smack her forehead. “Oh shoot, I’d better be off! My friend Kevin was going to meet me for lunch in about ten minutes, so I gotta hustle over to the Rec Dome. I’ll, uh, see you around—“

Faster than her eyes could track, Gascoigne’s hand suddenly lashed out and seized her by the arm. Not enough to hurt, mind you—it was just a light circling of his fingers around her wrist, and she could probably still break free if she wanted to—but the speed of the motion nearly shocked her out of her skin. As it was, she could only gape at him in stunned silence.

“Wait,” he told her, simple as that. Wait.

Charlie froze. The grip on her arm was not harsh, just firm enough to hold her in place, but she could sense the power in the man’s fingertips, her delicate wrist bones seeming as fragile as a baby bird’s in his grasp. It would be so easy for him to just…

The hunter’s head was raised, chin lifted as his nostrils flared slightly. He struck an uncannily still, wolfish pose, his attention focused on something further down the corridor— waiting, but for what, Charlie certainly couldn’t tell.

She swallowed involuntarily, battling with herself in an effort to remain calm. That was one of the chief requirements for this job, after all: being able to operate under extreme pressure. From unexpected power outages to cross-dimensional travel, all Syntech employees were expected to keep their cool. Kevin had even taught her a few breathing exercises for the really bad days, and it was this training she turned to now, heartbeat roaring in her ears as she fought to control her panicked thoughts.

“… yes? What is it?” Charlie asked, voice breaking in her hesitation. One hand fumbled for the panic button strapped to the back pocket of her khaki pants, sweaty palms leaving impressions of damp on the fabric.

The hunter’s large chest rose and fell once, a heavy sigh issuing forth— a mixture between agitation and regret curling his upper lip into a quiet snarl. His fingers slowly unwound from around the young woman’s wrist, his knuckles creaking audibly as he did so, but he had released her and that was good enough for Charlie.

“… My apologies. I didn’t intend to startle you,” the hunter said at length. He tore his gaze away from the empty hallway, giving a rough shake of his head. “There was a… most familiar scent.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Charlie’s hand moved away from the panic button, dropping back down to loosely hang at her side. She blinked up at him, glanced around at the rest of the deserted lobby and then back. “Oh. Okay. Well, I don’t think you need to worry about me, so if that’s all…“

Gascoigne relaxed, some of his earlier gentle demeanor returning.

“Actually,” he said, the words seeming to be drawn out of him by hooks. “I am in search of… ah… bandages. Clean ones, to replace my own,” the hunter gestured to his face, suddenly seeming quite sheepish.

Looking up at the dirty, torn bandages covering the man’s eyes, Charlie could see what he meant. Silver strands of hair had spilled over into his face, stuck to his forehead at crazy angles by the dried blood, not to mention whatever… bits were caught in his beard. The man looked like he’d taken a stroll through a slaughterhouse, for Christ’s sake.

Charlie nodded her head rapidly in understanding. “Oh, yes! Of course! You’ll find some fresh bandages in the Dojo, and uh, perhaps some antiseptic to clean up a little?”

She indicated a specific hallway branching off from the lobby. Gascoigne followed her gaze, mouth curving into a grin that did nothing to conceal his tenuous mental state.

“Ah. Farewell, then.”

And with one last tip of his hat, he was off.

 

[Nearl]

A bright flash of light and a blink and Nearl was in a new location. A grand hallway of epic proportions, not something that Nearl wasn't accustomed to really. People were moving about their business giving her no mind as she stepped off the teleportation platform and started making her way to wherever. She very clearly didn't have much of a sense of direction in this place but she'd hardly gotten accustomed to where she was in the first place to be fair. She still couldn't tell if this was some cruel afterlife or if she'd been dumped in some foreign country she'd not heard of before.

Nevertheless, it would really help if she attempted to collect some information on that account. Perhaps learning more about this place would be helpful in her future here. If there was a way she could get back to Rhodes Island, that would be nice. Though, she was beginning to think that she wasn't going to find much help in that sense. Somehow, she felt like if she asked someone about the pharmaceutical company they'd only return her question with glares of confusion. Other reactions might include trying to kill her then and there. She wasn't scared of anyone attempting to kill her here because of where she was from but you could never be to careful. It probably wouldn't look good if she struck down someone trying to kill her with the Rhodes Island behind her.

So, she wandered.

 

[Anders Nazret]

“Battles are fought with iron, but wars are won with minds, I’m not here to win, although that would certainly be desirable, rather I’m here simply to shine a spotlight on an injustice that has lived in the shadows for far too long,” Anders responded. Win-or-lose he had already succeeded in drawing more eyes to his cause. His counterpart remained stoic, his body language reserved and his inner thoughts kept tightly guarded. After a few moments of contemplative silence Anders continued, “But, I’m sure you can relate… about the ‘not here to win’ part. After all, I’m sure your secret personal quest didn’t bring you here to simply win.”

Kolith answered after a moment, “You are… correct.”

“I’d imagine very few are here simply to win,” Anders said, “There are always ulterior motives.”

“And what would your ulterior motives be, Anders?” He asked, “Why would you be making small talk with a future adversary?”

This gave Anders pause. Around them the chittering of synthetic insects filled the void left by their conversation. Kolith’s wariness was admirable, there was wisdom found in solitude.

“But, we’re not adversaries currently, are we?” Anders said, “In another world I would offer friendship and invite you out for drinks, but… that isn’t our reality. Our reality is that, here in a matter of hours, we will be tearing one another apart like starved dogs. And, make no mistake, Kolith, you’ll find no mercy from me. Naturally, I would only expect the same from you. For now though? I’m merely interested in passing time until we’re reduced to animals.”

Kolith nodded, “You seem to think that everyone is here for their own selfish reasons.”

“Are they not?”

“That… remains to be seen.”

There was no doubt in Anders’s mind that his fellow contestants would slit his throat in his sleep if they were given the opportunity. It was foolish to assume otherwise. If an entire country can betray its beloved monarch then why should expect anything less from complete strangers?

Anders scratched at a bug bite on his neck and said, “So, I’ve told you my life story… What about you? Where are you from?”

 

[Ganondorf]

Kolith wasn’t used to such frank and open conversation with anyone. He had such infrequent contact with any other people though that small talk certainly didn’t interest him. Anders had spoken truthfully and passionately about his cause. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt for Kolith to do the same. After all, if he fell during the contest, it could be beneficial for a revolutionary to know of Kolith’s goals – if he was successful, perhaps Anders new rule could work together with the Elder Spirits.

As the man had said himself, wars were won with minds.

Of course, Kolith didn’t intend to fall.

“I am – or was – a cattle farmer in Erde Nona,” Kolith said, still sitting in his meditative pose. “Until the blight of the Unmade entered my life. A bear corrupted by them killed my livestock in a fury and trundled off. I chased it, wanting to ensure it didn’t kill anyone or anything else. In the end, I ended the poor creature’s life, only to discover…”

Anders looked at Kolith as he paused. It felt strange explaining his past and his cause.

Maybe I can be of assistance, Gallo’s voice echoed in his head.

Kolith closed his eyes as Old Bear’s spirit entered his body. His eyes snapped open, glowing bluish white, as a ghostly sphere encapsulated his body. Anders took a step back as the sphere reshaped into a huge, translucent bear, its eyes shimmering. Kolith floated in the spirit bear’s centre, seeing through the bear’s eyes, hearing through his ears.

“That the bear he saved from the Unmade poison was I, Gallo, the Elder Bear.”

This was a new experience for Kolith. Gallo spoke with Kolith’s mouth, but his words were not his own. He saw through the spirit bear’s eyes, and felt Old Bear’s thoughts as if he were the Elder Beast himself. He knew he could cut the connection if he wanted, but he trusted Gallo.

“We Elder Beasts were born at the beginning of Erde Nona and we watch over the land to protect it from all that would seek to destroy it,” Gallo-Kolith said. “It is through Kolith that our will can be made manifest. Kolith’s goal in this competition is to strengthen his resolve, to ensure victory when confronting the Unmade.”

"The Unmade pose no more a threat to Erde than a flea does to the back of a dog," Anders said plainly. "A nuisance certainly, but surely there are more important matters for venerable beasts such as yourselves to worry about. Also, I have to question the wisdom of selecting a champion whose resolve needs to be strengthened."

“You misunderstand the Unmade threat, I fear,” Gallo-Kolith said. “The dangers of your war with the current Arcadian government pales in comparison to the all-consuming parasitic influence of the Fallen Arbiter. If you were successful in your mission, without then combatting the Unmade, your new kingdom would eventually succumb to its destructive will. Assuming you could stand against it at all.”

“And to suggest that champions are born, not made, is a conception I believe you should challenge.”

"I'm afraid you misunderstand my position, I am not interested in rebuilding any kingdoms," Anders explained, a touch of fervor entering his voice. "I intend to burn Arcadia until nothing but ash remains. There is no panacea for the injustice they have committed - the True Heir is dead, and nothing can change that. So, should I fail, and the Unmade raze Arcadia? Well, then I would consider that a sort of cosmic justice, the universe's natural desire to right wrongs."

Gallo-Kolith closed his eyes. “I understand.”

The spirit bear dissolved into swirling bluish-white ribbons, flowing back into Kolith. The Elder Spirit Vessel floated back to the ground and opened his eyes.

Unfortunately, this was not a mind that could be won.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Worst. Day. Ever.

Charlotte sat at a picnic table in the middle of the Park, head planted firmly in her hands. She hadn’t cried after her catastrophic presentation to Mr. Jak, not yet, but boy did she have a killer headache. At least the shade provided by the trees was nice, the gentle swaying of the artificial grass providing a welcome distraction from all her woes…

BRRIIINNGG BRIIIING!

The young woman startled, almost falling off her perch in her panic. Glancing down, she realized that her cellphone was ringing— vibrating angrily from where it sat beside her on the wooden tabletop.

Hoo boy.

Charlie eyed the ringing menace like it was a snake poised to strike. There was only one person it could be, only one person who would call her up at a time like this. She had known she’d have to face the music sooner or later, but golly, why did it have to be now, at the peak of her general mopey mood?

Her hand slowly reached out, pausing in mid-air as she considered if she really wanted to do this right now. A second later, she corrected herself— she had to do this now, or else he might do something drastic and come find her, like a parent looking into the whereabouts of their delinquent kid. Ugh.

Sucking in a deep breath, Charlie pressed the accept call button. Not even giving him a second to speak, she decided to bite the bullet and talk first.

“Was Mr. Jak very mad?” she asked, practically whispering as she cupped her hands around her phone. She tossed a quick glare around the rest of the perfectly manicured lawn of the Park, warding off any potential eavesdroppers.

“What are you doing worrying about how Karl feels? What about how I feel, Charlotte!” Kevin’s voice exploded from the speaker, startling her so much that she nearly let her phone slip between her fingers and clatter to the floor. Thankfully she caught it in time, but only just barely. “God. You are so damn lucky that he usually finds screwups like this hi-lar-ious.”

Charlie winced. Dang, Kevin was calling her Charlotte now. That meant he had to be reeeeally pissed, and not that fake-pissed attitude he sometimes put on when talking about all the nonsense Mr. Jak put him through, either. Big yikes.

She sighed, scrubbing one hand down the side of her face. “Look, I’m sorry. I genuinely thought that Caboose guy looked just like him, and so did everyone else on my team! I mean, why are so many dudes wandering around dressed like that, anyway?!”

“They’re completely different people! It boggles my mind that you lot even considered for a second that they might be the same person. What were you thinking?!”

Not much, apparently. Or, well… probably about how awesome her next promotion was gonna be. Face scrunching up, Charlie chewed on her bottom lip, curling a strand of hair around her finger as she tried to think of how best to grovel. “I just thought… maybe he got a paint change? I’m not super familiar with either of the… the properties they’re from.”

“Ugh, you are such a zoomer. A paint change. Really?” Kevin asked, sounding actually aghast. “And what else, huh— surgery to get a brain transplant from a roided up four year old?!”

“Weeeeellll…” Charlie began, voice pitching up as she adopted a more wheedling tone. Kevin was quick to nip that in the bud, though, barreling right along as if she hadn’t even spoken.

“Please, spare me from whatever janky logic you used to conceptualize those two as the same person,” Kevin grumbled. “I’m having to do so much extra paperwork because of you right now, I’ll have you know. That Caboose is a menace when it comes to property damage and workplace injury reports...”

“… I thought you liked paperwork?”

Kevin huffed, sounding distracted now. She could hear papers rustling around over the line, shortly followed by the persnickety clacking of keys on a keyboard. “Yeah, but only the fun stuff like waivers and soul contracts and shiz. Look, Charlie, I gotta go, but this isn’t over. We’re having lunch tomorrow at that sushi place. And you’re paying!”

Charlie could already feel her wallet crying in agony, but if it meant that the beast had been soothed for even a moment, she wouldn’t put up too much of a fuss. “You got it, boss.”