Guild Wars III Roleplay (Rated T)

[Vyt: Down, but Not Out]

((Tabloid Town))

"Ahh, I missed this place!"

Strolling around the alleys of Tabloid Town, Vyt looked around. The catboy had been away from NTWF for a long time, seeking to explore what was outside his sanctuary. He returned a few days ago and was eager to see what was new around here, but not before having to "check in" back to the Ninja Dojo.

"The Ninja Superior is very old, but he's still kicking some low-ranking ninja butt! I like the old coop."

Seeing that nothing much had changed around Tabloid Town (save for the fact that the most crowded places have been relocated), he ventured around the place for a bit. From afar, he could already see someone familiar to him.

"Shade!"

Running towards the knight, the catboy let no second go to waste and tapped her by the shoulder. "HIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" he exclaimed.

Without even wasting a moment, Vyt flashed probably the biggest and whitest grin he has ever shown at her.

[PFA]

Ninja HQ

Thok.

PFA stared at the kunai, right in the center of the target as usual. She had gotten good at this now; she didn't really need to practice throwing kunai anymore. But she still kept at it anyway, perhaps to make sure that her skills never deteriorated. When the time would come when she needed to throw that kunai at that precise spot in order to save the world, she would be ready.

Or maybe she was just so used to it that it was just a comfortable way to start off her training. A way to lead up to the things which she really had to train.

She let out a sigh at the thought. It was still hard to believe, even after nearly a year now. She was the child of the Yin and the Yang--meaning she had the potential to become something far beyond what she could ever have thought she would become. The potential to be something great.

But that's all it was at the moment. Potential.

PFA wandered over to the target, taking the kunai from the center and putting it back in its pouch. She had stalled plenty long enough. It was time to move on to the real deal--to practice her powers.

...Or at least she would have, were she not interrupted by another ninja bursting into the room.

"PFA-kun," the other ninja stated, "the ninja superior has requested that the ninjas assemble. Apparently he has something of great importance to speak of."

"The superior...?" PFA mused. Well, maybe she could stall for just a little bit longer, she decided. Especially if the ninja superior had something important to say.

---

Mercenary Base

Jernath pushed buttons on the remote, but the picture on the TV never changed. Static. Occasionally something would try to come through, but even then it was only uninterpretable gibberish. Why the mercenary base even had a TV when they always got such a lousy signal was beyond him.

He eventually gave up, shutting off the TV with a sigh. It seemed the mercenaries never had anything to do anymore. No one was hiring them, and honestly, he couldn't really blame them, what with what happened last year and all. Who would want to hire someone who tried so valiantly to kill them?

Jernath stood up from the sofa, and decided to wander off into the kitchen. Maybe there was something he could snack on.

[Sq]

Mercenary Base

"Need...money... NEED MONIES."

Squiesh "Sytra" Erane sat crouched in front of an open cupboard in the kitchen. She rummaged through the pots and pans, looking around them for any sign of gold. She'd found a coin on the ground when she had come in a few minutes earlier, and, after hastily picking it up, started poking around with the hope that someone had carelessly dropped some more.

"Gahhh... nothing." The girl looked down at the grimy coin in her palm and pocketed it. She sighed, resting her hands on top of the counter as she stood up and kicked the cupboard shut.

...She wanted to rip her eyes out.

There was nothing to do around here.

Hence her looking around for money in the kitchen cupboards. But still.

Sytra was the newest member of the mercs, and had joined with the impression that she'd be making, you know...big bucks. Or at least SOME form of payment. But she had yet to score a single job so far. If nothing showed up soon, she'd have to resort to her usual... creative methods of raking in da dough.

She ran a hand through her long violet hair, deciding what she could do to occupy herself next.

Footsteps. She spun on her heel to see Jernath standing in the doorway.

"Oh, hi!" Folding her hands behind her back, she threw on a smile as she stepped inconspicuously away from the cupboard. "What'cha up to, Jerbear?"

[Bacon]

Mercenary Base


Clint watched Sytra absently as he ate a light meal. A very light meal. More on the side of "light snack", really. It was the only thing he could find to eat. Clint looked up from his food as Jernath entered the kitchen.

"You hungry? I think there's an unopened jar of peanut butter in there somewhere." He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the pantry. "Not much else, though."

Somebody in the Mercenary Guild needed to go grocery shopping, but it was hard to do so when every single one of them was flat broke. Clint could barely afford keeping himself alive, much less the other mercs.

But the real tragedy was the state Clint's weapons were in. He had barely any ammunition for any of them, one of the P-90s was slowly developing a hair trigger, the other one began to jam, and his M-16 was getting a nice layer of rust on it. Only his trusty sidearm remained, well, trustworthy.

Clint glanced back at his scant meal, then at Sytra and Jernath in turn. "We've been wrong all along. We don't need to find a job, we need to find a benefactor."

[Omni]

Spacefleet

"It would take up a lot of space, and installation would cause inconveniences and take time. We cannot afford that!"

"We could install a small piece at a time to minimize problems. And once we're finished, think of how much time and effort could be saved for those with mechanical or cybernetic implants!"

Ethan silently moaned as he rolled his eyes, and head. He had come into the medical bay for a routine checkup, and this happened. There had been a debate for awhile on whether they should install equipment specifically designed for patients with artificial body parts. It could essentially be summed up in what was just said: A great help to the few who needed it, which you never knew if it might actually save a life or so, versus the problems it would make for ALL patients before it was finished.

The two who were arguing were Professor Hikari Hoshikira, a computer and robotics specialist, and Doctor Terissa Cürian, quasi-head medic. Both women actually had an interest in him of some sort: Dr. Cürian had been his doctor - or nurse, at first - since he first arrived at Spacefleet. She seemed to care for him personally, in a motherly way, and the two got to know each other over as Ethan came to know himself. She was nice, and about the only person he trusted with his worries about his past. Prof. Hoshikira's interest was based more off of his cyborg design. She was intrigued by each and every implant, and determinedly studied their design in an attempt to unlock their secrets. While he didn't like people touching his implants, he had come to expect and tolerate her periodic technological examinations, and they did occasionally have a good conversation on computer science.

Neither of them had made progress on his origins.

Hoshikira was actually the one who started the debate: she insisted on periodically giving Ethan a thorough virus scan, and thought it would be convenient if it could be done during his medical examinations. This lead to the idea having equipment ready for ALL patients like him. Cürian was concerned about the welfare of the patients like him - including him, of course - and could see how it could help, but she was still concerned about the welfare of other patients. Also, in the absence of a real Chief Medic, she had sort of assumed the role and, even if her power in making an official decision was limited, felt that she had to think about the patients as a whole in this case.

But why did they have to argue about it just before his examination? He couldn't go anywhere until it was finished, and the live argument basically put it on suspension. He wanted to get out of there and get to the training grounds already, but unless he could find a way to either stop the argument or just get on with the check-up, he was stuck playing games on his internal implant. He made a digital-mental-note to find more games.

Siber yawned. Ethan's clone-dog had gotten a lot bigger since he was a puppy. He was now about the size of an average adult, large, domestic terran(SIC?) dog, but still wasn't full size. His training was going well, and the two were almost always seen together. Ethan was planning on bringing Siber with him to the training grounds. Of course, the two could train together, but what he was really looking forward to was having the others wrestle with Siber. It would be a good way to test Siber on his training, and most people had never fought with a shark-toothed tiger-dog before (with a protective suit, of course).

Ethan heard familiar footsteps to his side. He looked over, and sure enough, there was the peppy redhead Nurse Friedman. "Hey, Jennifer," he called. He motioned to the two who were still arguing. "Could you give me a hand here?"

((Just as a side note: By this time, Ethan would be taller, manlier, and have a deeper voice.))

---------

Mage Manor

The colors, the sounds, the puzzles...

They were all wonderful. But now, they weren't doing their job.

Omni sat on her bed in front of a device. It had two rectangular sections folded like a book on a hinge. The lower surface had many square buttons, and the higher one had a bright, glowing surface with images on it. She touched the image of a shining gem and slid her finger to the side. The gem slid with it, and soon exploded, destroying the gems adjacent to it. A chain reaction was caused, and several other gems disappeared.

Omni sighed. Normally, this was a nice way to relax and have fun, but it just wasn't working. She couldn't shake this bad feeling that she had. She didn't know what though, or where, or if there was something she was supposed to do. She was hoping it was just a feeling, and that she could dismiss it by playing games, but the feeling was stubborn this time.

Then there was a quake. It was dampened slightly by her mattress, but she could still feel and see it. Before it even finished, that bad feeling grow even stronger. And now she knew it wasn't just a feeling, and that quake probably had something to do with it. She quit the game, sighing a bit; it would be a long time before she unlocked Finity mode.

She pressed a small area on the device, and the glowing section shrunk. The then folded it up and the lighted surface stopped glowing. She pulled out a belt pack with a sheathed dagger at the side - just in case - and quickly put it on, making sure it was straight and putting the device in the storage pocket. She walked out the door, thinking to try checking in or near the library and seeing what the other Mages thought. Immediately, the Manor brought her there. There were Mages, one of which was a star-shaped figure who she recognized as Nova.

Even from there, and with the aura of the Manor all around, she could feel their worry. She didn't know what about, yet, but she could only assume the others felt the tremor. "Any ideas on what that quake was about?" she asked.

((Hey, Nova, you are a star-person in this RP, right? I couldn't find your guild persona post [and you're supposed to have one].))

[Draco]

<<Just Outside Ninja Dojo>>

Draco lays on a tree branch peacefully, his arms crossed as if he was standing against a wall. His black coat draping off of the tree limb. He has been laying there for a few hours relaxing, just waking up a short while ago. A cold gust of wind blows his hair around. "It's beginning to get cold around here..." A soft step is heard and a leaf falls onto Draco's face.

"Draco-san!"

Reaching his hand to his face, he lifts the leaf from his face. "I told you, don't use '-san.' It makes me feel old."

"Sorry Sempai."

Draco opens his eyes and turns to look at the young ninja. By the clone like uniform he was wearing he was only a messenger ninja. Draco remains silent and continues to stare at the messenger waiting for him to continue.

"Ninja Superior wishes to see all active ninjas for a meeting."

Slowly sitting up Draco stretches. "I wonder what the old man wants today." He stands up on the tree branch and looks in the direction of the Dojo. "I understand, continue on."

The messenger ninja disappears tree branches vibrating every now and than from other trees.

"Well I better get going." He begins to jump from tree to tree in the direction of the Dojo.


After only a few minutes he arrives outside the Ninja Superior's room.

-----

<<Brassport>>

A man, Gil Maxwell, in a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, work gloves, and goggles tinkers with a small aircraft. Every now and then he will switch out one tool for another and continue tinkering. After a short time he places the wrench he was currently using back into it's toolbox, everything in it very symmetrical. He peels his gloves off, tosses them on top of the toolbox, and then wipes some sweat off of his forehead. "Done, now I just need to polish him and I'll be ready to fly around."

He walks over to a cabinet and opens it, everything in it balanced and set up very specific. He reaches for a can when it begins to shake and falls to the ground. "Why did that can just..." He looks at the rest of the room and everything was shaking. "An earthquake? This hasn't happened in years!" After a few moments the shaking stops and he looks around. "I better see how the town looks."

He runs over to a wall and kicks the lock off a lever. A chain rapidly begins to move and a metal wall slides into the ground revealing a large runway like balcony on the other side. He runs out onto it and pulls the goggles off of his head and places them onto his forehead. "This... Doesn't look like home."

Instead of the palace and normal surroundings, he can now see a strange castle he has never seen before in the distance. He looks around and can see that Brassport was still around him which caused him to sigh in relief. "Well Gil, how about we fly around this new place instead of sitting around." He walks over to the aircraft, grabs his frock coat putting it on, and hops into the pilots seat. He flips a switch and a propeller begins to spin from the back. "Lets go Fantome."

[Rider]

[glow=red,2,300]((Kienne's Castle))[/glow]

"Your Majesty!"

Queen Kienne, the ruler of the ancient and now-revived kingdom of Leona, gazed out at the sea. "It just goes on forever, doesn't it, Kite?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," said the Queen's ex-assassin impatiently. With peace having reigned for many months, there was little need for an assassin, so he has recently been demoted to the Queen's Most Trusted Messenger, a position which held little in the way of pension, salary and good-old-fashioned clout. "A message from the doctor. You are not to be standing out here, in light of the recent earthquake."

"The doctor need not be concerned for me." The Queen dipped her toes in the cold salt water, loving the shocked look on Kite's face. Subconsciously, her hand went to her round belly. "I know what is best for me and my child."

"You do not understand, Milady. The palace mage suggests that the earthquake may have had magical repercussions... and he is not coming back today."

"I know that." The Queen took a few more steps into the water. "But I feel closer to him this way."

"Milady... you really should try not to get too attached to him. Your husband is, after all, a pirate. And you know how reckless and unfaithful his sort can be."

"Rane would never leave me."

Kite groaned. new tactic. "Even so, Milady, he is not the most suitable husband for a lady of your standing. Should you not seek out someone better to raise and nurture the heirs to the throne of your kingdom?"

"There is no one better, Kite. You are dismissed."

Dismissed. A very official word. Kite was all for being official, but he could feel himself cracking. "Milady, if you would only listen!"

Kienne shot him a look that could pierce stone and took a few more steps into the water. "What?"

"Your Majesty, do your people not deserve better? I'm sure the populace would not want their next sovereign to be the son or daughter of a pirate!"

A long pause. "You speak too boldly. Is there anything else, or can you see to your other duties now?"

So many other messages came to mind. See me. I'm the heir to an ancient and wealthy house. I adore children. I am honest and true. I lo-

Too bold. "That is all, Milady. But the palace mage would like to see you. I believe it is a matter of 'potentially great importance.'"

"Thank you, Kite. You may send him here."

Kite bowed and left.

The Underdeep was expanding. The Queen had heard the rumors. Tales of trees and rocks and animals disappearing into holes in the ground, then showing up elsewhere, utterly destroyed. The notion of new caves forming, then disappearing again after only a couple of days.

The notion that the Underdeep was, though dependent on the world, also devouring it. Like the ancient image of the snake devouring its own tail. An eternity of destruction.

Of course, few people believed the rumors. Kienne didn't know what she thought. After all, there's a grain of truth in every myth.

[glow=red,2,300]Outside Tabloid Town[/glow]

"Rider, what makes you think you'll find that demon jack-wad here?"

Rider was slumped in the saddle, half-passed-out with exhaustion. "Because I've been riding all day and night after him for several days."

Shiva the demon-horse scoffed. "After some myth?"

"It may very well be true."

"Rider, no one's able to catch him. Leraye, I mean. Not even TMC could catch him. What makes you think you can?"

"I've got to. He has Schzain trapped in that god-awful Gem. She's my friend."

"You've got other friends, Rider. They're less than a mile away. Yes, Ventratta keeps track of the Weewoo's docking schedule. Don't give me that look, 'tratta had the sense to go back to his family and friends. Shouldn't you go back to yours?"

"I feel like I'm so close... Shiva, stop."

The demon-horse jerked to a halt. "A cat, where? I'm starved!"

"No, it's not food. Do you remember that cave always being there?"

"No... maybe it was caused by that weird earthquake."

"Don't be silly, Shiva. Earthquakes don't cause caves. It looks almost artificial." Rider dismounted and dusted off the saddle. "Almost like someone created it, thinking it would be a good place to hide."

"What? Why would someone make a cave that wasn't already there and use it as a hideout? People tend to notice random things popping up out of nowhere."

"No, it's just this feeling I have. Leraye, he's here. Schzain is here! She really is, she's..."

"Rider, you really need some rest. Why don't we get back to Tabloid Town. We can rent a room for the night."

"Shh." Rider pressed a finger to her lips and approached the mouth of the cave. "Hallooooooooooo?"

"Rider, get away from there!"

"Halloooooooooooo?" Rider entered. Though the cave was allegedly new, the smell of mildew and mold hung in the air. Sourceless tension came from all angles, so thick that one could barely breathe. Rider could feel the hairs on the back of her head stand up.

Were there... whispers in the shadows? Were they laughing at her? "Come out, Leraye. Show yourself!"

What a touching show of bravado.

Indeed, too bad she can't back it up.

Poor little Red, alone and afraid in the dark, without a single friend.

Poor little Red, who betrayed every ally.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!

Rider screamed. She didn't know why she screamed, but it tore from her mouth, using more air than she thought she had in her. Her eyes squeezed shut and her stomach suddenly felt like an icy weight.

Open your eyes.

She took a deep breath and did so, staring straight into the face of her captain.

"Hunty..."

Rider... you left us.

"Hunty..."

You left us the way you left her. the Captain's voice seemed not to come from her mouth, but from the very walls around her. Her eyes seemed to glow with an unearthly light. So there really is no honor among thieves.

Rider swallowed hard. Her saliva tasted like poison. "None."

All around her, she could feel the presence of her old ship-mates. Goosh, Zylaa, Ikkin, Kat... all of them glaring at her with intense hatred. So this was to be it. A cold slaying by her own. Like Cyborg's. Only Cyborg had it coming... didn't he? Rider hadn't harmed the crew or challenged Hunty's authority. Pirates could leave whenever they wanted... because deep down inside, a pirate would always be a pirate.

But it had been what, nine months? And anyway, was she even a pirate anymore? She couldn't hold it back any longer. "I trusted you!"

It was as though a dam had broken. Like bats, the other pirates swarmed from the shadows, hissing and cursing her name.

You throw away friends. Like you threw her away. You're really only looking out for yourself, aren't you?

"Stop..." Rider tried to close her eyes again, but found that the imprint of the scene was even on her eyelids.

You pretend to look out for us, but really you're just looking out for yourself. Well guess what? We can do the same.

Hunty lifted the crossbow. Already loaded. Crud.

"This is a dream. It makes no sense. This is a drea-"

Rider heard the twang before she even realized the bow had gone off. But it must have, right? This is how these nightmares end.

"I'll wake up any moment now..."

Warm red blood was trickling out of the wound. The ghostly captain regarded the wound as a craftsman might regard a finished piece.

Welcome to the Underdeep.

She vanished without a trace, leaving a stunned Shiva a couple of meters from the lifeless body of his Red Rider.

It took a moment to sink in. Then Shiva sped off toward Tabloid Town with one mission - to find the pirates and some Phoenix Down.

[Something]

It could get out.

It had watched the man. He had been there for a while, or maybe not long at all. It didn't know how long, and didn't really care.
Sometimes he went and walked around. Sometimes he just came to this place and sat down and did something. What? It didn't matter.
All that mattered was that It couldn't react to him. Whenever anyone else came, It knew exactly how to react. It didn't know how It knew, It just knew. Sometimes they fell over and stopped moving, It liked that. Other times they got small and would keep screaming for a long time. It liked that too.

But It just couldn't react to this man. Every time It tried, there was something stopping It. So, It watched.

This time, the man was in front of the thing he had brought in a while ago. Sometimes he would touch it, other times he would look at it and look away and make marks on something small and flat, then look back at the thing again and then make more marks and back and forth. But this time when he came, he brought something else. Something new. It couldn't react to the thing, either. But then the man touched the new thing.

The new thing reacted to It.

It felt Itself slowly pulled into the thing, and pushed through a small long tube, and then out of the barrier.
It had never gone past the barrier before. There was always something in Its way that It could never get past. But now It got past.
It got pushed straight into another thing. But It could get out. There was only a small bit of It there, but the thing was pushing more and more of It past the barrier.
It decided to leave. It looked around to see where It could go. It saw more people walking around. It went over to them, and reacted to them. It liked reacting to people. Then it saw more people. There were more people here than it had ever seen before.

It liked this a lot.

[Fraze]

((Outside Tabloid Town))
Fraze would have preferred Hunty by herself, but had learned that the dark blue bodyguard was part of the package. Still, if there had to be a third wheel in this relationship, this one wasn't all that bad.
"Bah, I've been in an airtight suit for weeks on end with no running water. I don't mind smelly." He scooted over to make room for Hunty. He watched the following squabble with a grin. Once you got used to these two, it was really amusing watching them interact.
After a while it calmed down. They sat looking out at the horizon. The sun was going low, and the clouds looked like so many strokes from a paintbrush.

"How much time do you have?" Fraze's head jerked to the side. "I have... something of a favor to ask you, but I really wouldn't want to spoil this sunset."

"Well, tell me and I'll see if I can try to help," he answered honestly. "What is it you need?"

--------

((The Underdeep))
Merpo felt slightly giddy.
Or at least, he thought he did. In his entire life, he had never before been giddy, but he imagined that this must be what giddiness feels like.
It was working--it was really working!
But wait--something wasn't quite right. There was a power loss--a huge one. Nearly all of the power the collector was gathering was being lost. What could have caused this?
Merpo turned the collector off. He walked down the short corridor, out of the Underdeep, and back into his lab. He shut the power off from his suit in order to preserve the battery.

He looked up, and saw his daughter.
She was five, just as she was when he last saw her twenty years ago.
"B--Bellina..."
His wife appeared next to her.
"Trall!"
He rushed to them, but they backed away.
"Daddy, where have you been?"
"I--"
"I missed you, daddy. Where were you?"
"I--" Merpo took another step towards the two of them, but they moved away again, as if floating.
"Merpo, it's been twenty years. How could you just run off like that? Do you know how hard it's been to care for Bellina all by myself"
"But I wanted to come back!"
"Then why didn't you?"
"I tried, I really did. But they kicked me out...I couldn't get back home..."
"And whose fault was that?"
"What do you mean? It was their fault! They shouldn't have kicked me out just for what I did."
"But it was your fault for doing this research in the first place. It was your own selfish pride."
"No! I was only doing it for--"
"For what? For us? Don't give me that. You were doing it for yourself. You were doing it for the fame, the glory. And even now, twenty years later, you still haven't learned. Face it, you're not doing this to get back to us. You're doing it because you're too stubborn to give up on this cursed research even though you know in your heart it will bring nothing but sorrow!"

Merpo fell to his knees.
"Stop it, stop it!"
His daughter walked up to him, stopping just out of arm's reach. Her face was a mask of utter betrayal. "Is it true, daddy? Is it true what mommy is saying?"
Merpo let out a wail. "No, no! NOOO!" He threw his head back. The switch on the battery pack grazed against a table leg, and the suit reactivated. The two people he wanted to see more than any others vanished.
He collapsed completely, curled up in a fetal position. "Yes..."

[Deleted]

The clearing of dead bodies


Something had changed.

The chimera wasn't sure what it was. The earthquake was definitely unusual, but that wasn't it - it was something about the tremors. Even after the ground had stopped shaking, the corpses still moved. She still struggled to keep her footing.

And now, the air smelled different. There were still the stenches that came with rotting carcasses, and the usual smells of the forest, but now there was something else as well.

Something dark. Something strange and new - and otherworldly.

Kwoiffei si'Larnax.

Even though the voice came out of nowhere, the chimera didn't jump - though she was surprised, and pleasantly so. She hadn't heard that voice in what felt like eternity. Turning around, she saw a familiar glyph in the air, distorting the world around it.

"My lord! I was starting to wonder if you'd forgotten me!"

I do not forget my Kwoiffei. The glyph was sending out waves as it "spoke". And I do not forget worlds which bathe in false glory and corru--

"I know."

You know what your mission was. You will go on a new mission now, in this world.

Kwoiffei's head was suddenly filled with new information. That, she thought, was both convenient and inconvenient at once; while it saved considerable time and effort, it also took time and effort to be able to digest it, so to speak, and to be able to put it to use.

But her master knew that.

I will contact you in later times, and when this world's defences are sufficiently weak, I will enter it.

"I won't let you down, my lord."

You will go now!

With that, the glyph vanished into the air.

Sighing, Kwoiffei walked through the clearing once more until she found a spot that was free of blood and/or corpse(s). Closing her eyes, she focused. Her body shrunk and twisted; her arms stretched and bent; her head lost its teeth. Fur became feathers, and then the pale grey changed to an earthy brown.

Having now shapeshifted into a bird of prey, she took to the air. Her destination: Tabloid Town.

--

Tabloid Town


Dangit! Dangit dangit dangit! I'm late again!

Thoughts along those lines raced through the head of a blue-furred anthropomorphic animal. (To be precise, a coati.) Clutching the strap of a messenger bag in one hand, and holding the remains of a dragonfly in her jaw, she hurried along the streets of Tabloid Town.

If she didn't get to the stables in time, she wouldn't be able to return home by nightfall. The fact that the sun was setting only enforced the fact that, if anything, she'd be back late.

Turning a corner, the coati manuevered past a crowd of people--

What in the hell?!

--and skidded to a halt, staring. Up ahead was a strange creature, looking at the people of Tabloid Town with interest.

This was not unfamiliar. She'd seen creatures like these before...

Then it looked at her. The coati froze in sheer terror - for a moment.

Okay. New plan.

RUN!

With that, she took off in the opposite direction with the speed and agility that could only come with panic.

--

Ninja Dojo


Oncara was already at the place where the ninjas were assembling. This was hardly surprising; he was, after all, a strict traditionalist in more than one sense of the word. While most ninjas wore ridiculously flashy clothing and fought with blades that could be knocked out of their hands, the feline warrior was clad compeltely in black, and used nothing more than the weapons he was born with. His fists, his feet, his claws and his bite, which could crush a man's skull, were all he needed.

In other words, he was the complete opposite to a certain--

"SUPERIOR!"

Oh, for the love of--! Oncara facepalmed.

Kovaran "Loud Man" Mokra had arrived. As usual, he wore an outfit which made him look like an officer in the army of whatever-it-was. Spaceflock? The one difference from the usual was that he was not wearing the jacket which completed his outfit.

Instead, he was using it as a towel to dry himself off.

[Deleted]

A cave somewhere in the mountains

The soft hissing sound faded very slowly, the billows of grey smoke lingering, filling the cave with an acrid stench of singed feathers and flesh. A slender hand waved from side to side, trying to clear the smoke while the other hand rubbed at the ears of a distinctly disheveled knight-mage. Why his song had caused such a violently fiery reaction, he couldn’t figure out. The notes of the melody he had been singing were of movement and space, not fire.

Sarn’s eyes burned and itched as he squinted through the grey clouds. He put a hand to the side of his face and felt the evidence of burn marks. He cursed his lack of skill with healing and hurried to his little leather satchel where he had some Phoenix Down tucked in a little pouch. He sat down on the cave floor to tend his wounds, wincing in pain each time a burning throb ran through his skin. For a while he couldn’t figure out why the pain remained, but then his blurred vision gave him the answer.

He was crying.

Big pearly tears were running slowly down his burned cheek, each leaving a stinging trail of salty wetness. Sarn brushed them away carelessly, sat still for just one moment, and then gave a loud wail of grief. He had failed.

“Dearest Blossom … I …” he paused, sobbing loudly, alone in the darkened cave. “I tried, sweet Dove … I tried so hard.” His shaking hand reached to a pocket, his thin fingers closing over a little silver chain with a sapphire wing attached. He sobbed harder, his heart breaking each time he thought of how he had failed his dearest.

Slowly, the notes of a melody formed inside his mind. Singing them aloud, and very softly, Sarn felt the power of the Star Dance brush against him. He shivered, his tears no longer falling. Inside his heart, he felt loving warmth, a gentle tug at his soul. It grew with each new note that escaped the Feberi’s mouth, the tugging becoming pulling, and the pulling becoming desperate heaving until he realized what was happening.

With the greatest of efforts, he began to pull back, grasping at the tiny connection he had managed to get. He struggled and gasped, falling to the ground. His fingers dug into the cracks in the stone floor, his wings thrashed about madly, sending flurries of feathers all over the cave. He knew what he had to do, knew what was going to happen if only he could pull harder…

The ground began to shudder, an earthquake felt by the whole NTWF and Sarn lay at its epicenter, grappling with magic he had felt only once before… when he had been pulled into this strange new land all those years ago. He had left them all behind – his friends, his home … and the one closest to his heart. But now he had a chance to bring them to himself and he wouldn’t let it go for anything.

He gave one last great effort as the earthquake subsided. Feeling the object of his desire move into this world, he breathed a sigh of relief. Too exhausted to move, he fell into a deep sleep, lulled by the feeling of closeness which had been absent since his departure.

A courtyard in Brassport

The cloudy sky looked only slightly more cheerful than the young woman who sat on the grass next to a pond gazing up at it. Sarinon looked down at the crumpled fabric of her dress and wondered why she had been bothered to dress today, or even to rise from her bed. A plump woman in a maid’s uniform trotted over with a steaming mug and a blanket.

“Lady, why don’t you come inside where it is warm?” she said in a kindly voice.

Sarinon sighed, allowing the woman to take her hand and guide her to the edge of the courtyard. “Thank you, Emily,” she smiled at the maid who sat her in a chair by the fire and placed the blanket over her lap, passing her the mug which turned out to be pumpkin soup. Sarinon smiled again.

It had been several weeks since Sarinon had last left her small home. She had not lost her position as an airship mechanic for the local guild of Brassport, but nor would they likely wait much longer for her to recover. The doctor had told her that her outlook was bleak, and she felt it. Every day she had less energy to do things, and more and more she felt the sickness rising inside her. Some nights she would be stricken by a mysterious fever that even the doctor could not explain. During those long hours, Emily would sit patiently by her bed and dab at her forehead, keeping her cool and speaking soft words of comfort to her.

She hated feeling weak and useless. For the early years of her life, she had been pitied for her lack of sight, but she had risen above that and earned the respect of her peers. Her sight was no barrier to her work and her home life was assisted by Emily, but she had never thought that a disease could kill so much of her spirit. She sighed and sipped her soup.

Without warning, Sarinon felt a huge jolt. The cup slipped from her hands and smashed on the ground, spilling hot soup over her lap. She heard Emily shriek from the other side of the room and squinted to where she thought the maid was, trying to see if she was ok.

“Emily?” she called in panic, too weak to lift herself from the chair, “Emily are you alright? What happened?”

The maid hurried over to Sarinon and took her hand reassuringly. “Worry not, my dove. I suspect it was just a minor quake. I’ll check that all is still in order.” And with that, she hurried away. Sarinon sat in silence, her head tilted back against the chair. Something felt different. Something she hadn’t felt in over ten years was tugging at her soul. She thought she knew what it was, but her doubt overrode the feeling and she ignored it. It couldn’t be…

She heard footsteps and turned her head to Emily who couched down next to Sarinon’s chair. “We’ve … We’ve moved, Lady. The whole city … it’s moved …”

“Come again?”

“We’re in a different place. Everything that was inside the Brassport city limits has moved to a new location.”

Sarinon sat up, lost a lot of energy and fell weakly back into her chair again. Only this time, she knew that the tug was not a lie. “Sarn,” she breathed, allowing herself to hope.

Her brief candle of joy was, however, interrupted by a visitor. Emily, still slightly shaken by what she had seen, opened the door to him.

"I'm looking for a Lady Brightfeather?" he asked in a deep and rumbly voice.

"The Lady is in no condition to have guests. I suggest you be off, young lad." This was a rather odd statement considering the man looked a good decade older than Sarinon's young maid. She heard the voice, knew who it was and called out to Emily to let him in. The maid grumbled as she showed him into the small home.

"Sari?" she heard him say in a concerned voice.

"Hello Trace, what brings you here?" she asked, wishing to deflect his attention from her pathetic state. He coughed awkwardly and told her that Mr. Blackstone had requested all guild members and contract workers to assemble. Sarinon knew the reason and knew that she had to go. She had to find out if she was right.

"Emily, help me up."

[Jina]

Brassport

Owen was in his house. Nothing special, just a room, with a stove, a door, a desk, a chair, and another door which led to the necessities. And, of course, a pile of junk. He was currently tinkering with a few of said pieces of junk, trying to make himself a steam-powered mouse. Perhaps not the most faithful of companions, but it was a start.

"Just one pipe to go! Then I can test this thing out," he said to himself, with perhaps a bit more excitement than he really should have for a hunk of metal designed for running around and eating cheese. He gently tried to push the pipe into place, and when that didn't work, he pushed up the power levels to give it a good bash so that it decided it agreed that being in place was a good thing. "All engineering problems can be solved with violence." His favourite motto. He picked the mouse up off his desk, and placed it on the floor.

"Version 1.32 test commencing. Go, my little mousey!" He opened the power valve. There was a sudden blast of steam. The mouse shot off across the floor, and crashed into a wall. "Hm." Owen turned to his logbook, and picked up his pencil. It broke, so he opened the Steam Suit and used oneof the snapped off pieces with his own hands. "Version 1.32... too much pressure."

He felt a strange disturbance, like something had suddenly changed all around him. "Oh, yeah. I suppose I'd better eat something." He went over to his stove, and using his suit again, opened the door. He grabbed a snack from inside, and stuffed it in his mouth. Then, he returned to his work.

After tinkering around for a little while, and dropping down the power that went into it, he had finished Version 1.33. "Version 1.33 test commencing." Why he always said this out loud, he didn't really know. But he found it fun, so he didn't try to stop. He shoved open the power valve once more, and the mouse shot straight up in the air, sticking itself into the ceiling.

He opened the suit to write in his logbook again. "Still too much pressure, and now wants to go land on the moon."

Then, there was a knock on the door. He looked at it strangely, because he hadn't heard it do that before. Then, realising that there must be someone outside, he threw a wrench up at the mouse to get it down, and went to answer the door.

There was a young man outside, with black hair and a beard. He looked Owen up and down, and said, "Um. Hi there. Nice umm... fashion... thing... you've got going there. Anyway. You did a contract for Mr. Blackstone?"

"Yes. Why, is it broken again?"

"Um. I'm not sure. He just said you should go to the Assembly room."

Owen sighed. "If I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times. If he keeps shoving those little ball things of his into the machine, it's just going to overheat. Alright, I'll be there soon."

The messenger left. Owen looked back at what he was working on, and realised he'd already done the test. So, he set off.

--------

The White Weewoo

So, um. Shore leave.

Jina didn't get up.

I could go... um. Annoy some pickpocket, or something.

She yawned, very loudly.

....Nah.

((Any other pirates on the ship, feel free to start a conversation.))

[Huntress]

((Tabloid Town harbor))

"Well, tell me and I'll see if I can try to help," Fraze said. "What is it you need?"

"It might concern you as much as it concerns me," Hunty admitted, "otherwise I wouldn't drop this on you. Well, to make a long story short..."

She cast a quick look around to make sure they were alone, then whistled sharply and quietly.

The huge ominous shadow farther in the bay stopped its lazy circling and hovered for a moment, then turned and headed straight for the pier. The waters in the Tabloid Town harbor were rather shallow, but always murky, so until the very last yards, the shape was just that: a shape. Then it began to take a clearer shape. And the kraken rose.

As far as krakens go, the one that belonged to the crew of the Weewoo was always a mild disappointment for those who hadn't seen him before. People expect krakens to have lots of slime and squishy tentacles. This one... had tentacles, but rather than being squishy, they were solid muscle and looked like lazy black pythons. And they were attached to a spiky body that was covered in thick black fur and ended with a triangual head the size of a lifeboat.

"Brlp," did the blarf, turning his head to get the scene into the focus of one eye. He lifted his head a little higher to sniff Fraze, recognized the scent and his ears perked at once. Somewhere far, far back, a massive tail began to churn the water from side to side.

"There you have it," Hunty said grimly.

The blarf's jaws were dripping with fresh dolphin, but that wasn't the worst part. There were scratches and gashes all over his head. At parts his fur had been shaved off, revealing smooth black skin underneath, and the wounds in those parts had been stitched together. Some of the tentacles, as much as they could be seen in the water, seemed to have suffered a similar fate.

"The head, most of the chest, the front paws, some tentacles and some of the back," said the captain. "Flesh wounds, none serious, but they're only not serious because he's the size of a ship. Boom said that some of them were this deep." She showed a distance of some ten inches between her hands.

"Attack wounds," Bloody Mary remarked. "Trust me, we know."

"Story being," said Hunty, stretching out a leg to scratch the blarf behind an ear, "a couple days ago we were crossing a strait and got close to one of the entrances to the Underdeep. It's a kind of..." she waved her hand around and nearly lost balance, "part place, part potential, part sentience, all evil. And mostly unknown. There's entrances all over the planet, sailors known those places because we have to know what to avoid. The blarf sometimes goes through when we're near an entrance. So far nothing's ever happened. He goes in, he comes out, no sweat. And now this."

"He's been through that particular entrance before," said Bloody Mary, sneezing again. Fresh smell of blood didn't suit him. "Twice, I think. And now he came back from the gateway like this and has been attracting sharks for the last two days. He won't tell me what happened either."

Hunty dug in the uncharted territories of her corset and pulled out a map. It had a clear X drawn with a very sharp pencil in a spot near the middle.

"This place," she said, handing the map over. "I don't know if your satellites and whatnot can track this sort of thing, but you should at the very least try. The Underdeep manifests in indirect means; things getting displaced, temporal anomalies, stuff like that. And if something's happening in there, it might spread. We sail uncharted waters a lot, we need to know those things, so... could you keep me updated on that?"

"Not to mention this whole protecting-the-entire-planet shtick," Bloody Mary said. Something was missing in his voice. He was no longer paying full attention.

Hunty shrugged. "Well, that too. I have my hands full with just one ship already. Something wrong?" The meepit was now standing up, sniffing the air.

"Maybe," he said vaguely and bounced down. "I'll just... gimme just a... don't wait up, okay?" He circled the pier and then rocketed off, disappearing into the gap between warehouses farther away. Hunty turned to look after him.

"Isn't that the darndest thing?" she said glumly. "He's always around. If he's not around, you can bet your last penny that he is, in fact, around. And if he pulls something like this, he's most definitely not around, but at the same time he's making me so worried about what might've happened that I end up wishing that he was around."

***

Bloody Mary skidded around the corner, sniffing furiously. He knew this smell. He didn't like this smell and the owner of this smell could've dropped dead for all he cared, but this wasn't about this smell. This was about the smell that was very distinctly missing.

Anyone can smell trouble. It takes skill to smell trouble between the lines.

He skidded around another corner.

"Shiva?"

[PFA]

Mercenary Base

Upon entering the kitchen, Jernath was immediately greeted by Sytra, one of the newer mercs. He raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been called 'Jerbear' since... since... had he ever been called 'Jerbear'?

He didn't get the chance to respond before Clint spoke up, directing Jernath to the jar of peanut butter in the pantry. Jernath gave a nod in thanks, then started toward the pantry in question. To Sytra, he said, "Well, not a whole lot at the moment. TV's still not working, cupboards are still empty..."

He listened to Clint as he grabbed the jar of PB, staring at it quizzically for a moment. As Clint finished his sentence, Jernath headed across the kitchen to grab a spoon or other similar utensil. "You mean, going out and trying to find someone to hire us? Like, advertising?" He suddenly got the mental image of the mercs posting up paper signs that read, 'Need someone killed? Hire a merc! Killing is our specialty!', but decided not to dwell on the thought. "Could be risky, but at this point, I'd say pretty much anything's worth a shot..."

Opening the utensil drawer, Jernath discovered that the only clean utensils available were forks. Jernath had never eaten peanut butter with a fork before. But that certainly wasn't going to keep him from his meager meal. He immediately reached to grab one of the forks out of the drawer, ready to try this experimental feat.

It was at that moment when a rattling sound filled the kitchen, everything in the room that could make noise in an earthquake doing so. Jernath felt the ground shake beneath his feet as well, which died off after a moment, just as quickly as it started. Jernath blinked.

"...Was that an earthquake?" he asked, now taking the fork out of the drawer. While the answer seemed an obvious one, that somehow seemed a really odd earthquake. Jernath couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was as if there was something somehow... wrong with that earthquake. All he could do was ponder this as he shoved a forkful of peanut butter into his mouth.

[Zylaa]

((The White Weewoo))

"Shore leave, shore leave, time to go on shore leave!" Zylaa sang, clambering around the rigging of the Weewoo. She'd stayed in the crow's nest to watch the best of the sunset, but the lure of Tabloid Town was too great now. Tabloid Town! There may not be a more wretched hive of scum and villany, but it was a fun hive. And really, she was a pirate. A bit of light villainy kinda came with the territory.

Last time here had been far too dreary. For one, it had been right after an execution. For another, it was waaay too early in the morning. But now, as sundown painted even the shabby buildings of Tabloid Town a blazing gold, the nightlife was just beginning. Lots of shiny things happened at night.

Zylaa didn't know how long Hunty's mission would take, but she did have an inkling of where the captain had gone, thanks to the weasels. Whatever else you said about the Guilympics, they had done one thing-- given her a 300-weasel band. The miniature instruments had held up well, and Zylaa had been spending most of her free time teaching them how to play, and even sing a bit. She quite enjoyed it-- teaching the weasels music brought back memories of another time, long ago and far away, when she had never even heard of the White Weewoo. There wasn't usually much chance to listen to orchestral music in the middle of the sea.

But as with most things with the weasels, this gift had turned surreal very quickly. Even more surreal, rather. It first happened when a bunch of the band weasels started picking out a tune on their own that, after five minutes, Zylaa recognized as the opening bars of a piece called Into the Storm. Zylaa had gotten the captain, and after a quick conference that yes, this was weird, but take what warning you can get, they changed course and didn't stop til a few of the chorus weasels suddenly started singing "I can see clearly now, the rain is gone!"

It was rather handy to have a sort of narrative barometer on hand, Zylaa thought. For one thing, they had been playing a non-stop medley of love songs for the last three hours she was down there. Hence Zylaa had a pretty good idea of where the captain was.

At any rate, as she leaped lightly to the deck and bounded down belowdecks towards the hold, she was expecting to hear the strands of some cheery tune-- "Celebrate," maybe. She detoured slighlty once in the forecastle to go bounce by Jina's bed. "Wake up, lazy! It's time for shore leave! And we don't have any demonic mission obligations this time!" Sure that her rousing pep talk had worked, she bounced from the forecastle to the ladder into the hold, where the weasels had stayed ever since Shiva had gone.

At first, she thought that the sound floating up to her ears meant that one of the weasels was very, very erratically tuning. Or doing something completely wrong, like pulling on the string. But as another weasel joined in on the cello, she felt a chill run down her spine. She looked into the hold as another weasel took up some mallets and began to play. All of them were utterly focused on their music, with a devotion she had never seen in them outside shinies. Normally, she loved to listen to them play, taking a strange sense of pride in the combination of her teaching and the weird narrative magic.

But she recognized this song. She slowly edged up the ladder as the low, mournful tune continued.

"Guys," she said slowly, "Do you have any idea why the weasels would be playing Requiem for a Dream?"