Guild Wars III Roleplay (Rated T)

[Deleted]

<<Mage Manor>>
[Aly.] Having just gotten the message from Jasor, Lika silently relayed its contents to the girl. It didn't look like she was listening. With a nudge and a second reading, Aly glanced over, shook her head and went back to concentrating on keeping the fire curtain burning as she tried to process what had just happened.

'Mind space', 'white room'...whatever she decided to call it, that empty stretch of nothingness was one of the few things that could darken any day of hers. But now, here, in a place like this when I wasn't even trying...and that one person isn't even nearhere... She bit her lip at remembering it, and opened her mouth to start to speak to Lika.

And then that thing came through the fire curtain, and she jumped to her feet and yanked out a saruanu to counter. The girl's hand stopped midway through the familiar motion of throwing it as a large mass of fire--no, not quite that, she realized--followed after the figure. She recognized her, but barely.

"Okay, can someone please explain what the Underdeep is doing in the basement of Mage Manor?"

Lika was, for once, slightly more confused than the mage. [A shadow creature?] the Felyr asked, ears flattened against her head.

"Uh, no. At least, I don't think so." It took a moment, but seeing someone like Sev helped her to put things together quickly. She'd been a new member the last time she'd been near Mage Manor, but she was sure she'd seen the kitsune at least once.

"You could've just asked," the girl said to Ikkin. Though then again, she thought, looking down at the bone knife in her hand and remembering the...shadowy things, that might not have been a good idea. "If I knew what the Underdeep were, I might be able to tell you, but so far as I know we just stumbled upon this trying to check something out." Aly gestured to the inert Rikku. "Ask her. And while we're at it, what are those things, and how do we fight them?" The sooner she had a plan for battle, the better she'd feel.

[Huntress]

((Tabloid Town))

"Bloody Mary... It's terrible. There was this hole - no, it was a cave. It sucked her in. Or rather, she went in, but it was like there was a spell on her... and then she... I couldn't see how, but I didn't want to go in or else I'd be under the spell too. I couldn't save her."

The meepit listened to Shiva's ramble with a mixture of confusion and concern, then furrowed a brow.

"Whoa, whoa, rewind a little. She's gone? Or she's dead? Phoenix down? Hunty's... busy at the moment," he said that in much the same tone people would use when saying 'she's murdering people in large numbers and getting away with it', "but I think she'd... yeah, she does have phoenix down, except it's for emergencies only... is Rider dead? What happened?"

He stopped.

"Okay, breather for both of us," he said. "Where's Rider?"

He squeezed all the info out of the demon horse again in a slightly more coherent questions-and-answers package, then began to pace around.

"Bet you an apple that this is Underdeep business again," he snarled. "No way am I going in there, or letting Hunty go in there, especially in that mashed-potatoes condition her brain is in these days, I swear to gods, of all the times she had to choose to build up vulnerability... Okay. So. I can do this. It's tricky, but I can do this. No worries. Yep." He looked up at Shiva with a determined inwards scowl, then snapped into focus and bounced up onto the horse's back.

"Forget the humans," he said. "If I go back to Hunty now, I'll never hear the end of it for another couple weeks. First stop, the ship, pier 21, I'll tell you when to turn. Then you'll take me... yes, to the marketplace, there's one near the outskirts of the city, and then you'll take me to that cave, and step on it, I've heard you demons could outrun lightning, don't disappoint me, giddyu-UUUUUUUUUuuuuu

[Deleted]

Mountains >> Castle Kestrel

It was a long time before Sarn regained consciousness. The first thing he noticed was that his whole body felt heavy and sluggish. It ached all over and he could taste the distinct metallic flavour of blood in his mouth. He rolled onto his side, spat out the blood and wiped his mouth on his disheveled wing.

It was only then that he noticed a faint tug at his soul. It was ony tiny, almost unnoticeable, but the joy flooded through him like nothing he had ever felt before. It gave him strength enough to lift himself from the floor of the cave, it urged him to come, so he bolted down the short tunnel, around the corner and, without even pausing to grab his satchel, leaped into the air, unfurling his wings to catch the updrafts of air that pervaded the mountains.

He turned south-east and began to follow the direction from which he felt the tug, panting hard and working his wings furiously to move faster. His body protested, every muscle cramping, demanding that he rest, but his heart wouldn’t let him stop until he had reached his destination.

“I’m coming Dearheart,” he whispered. The wind caught his words and tossed them away carelessly, but Sarn continued over the countryside, passing small towns and villages as he flew.

It was only when he was close to passing out again that he decided it would be safer to land and spend the night somewhere. Falcorum lay close by and he knew his room in Castle Kestrel would be exactly has he had left it that morning, with his feather mattress waiting to welcome him into the realms of sleep.

He landed just outside the castle and grinned at the two guards who stood, not bothering to ask why they both looked so worried. He dragged his weary body inside, panting as he advanced down the stone hallway until he passed a few more knights, all with the same worried look plastered on their faces.

Postponing his sleep for a while longer, Sarn turned aside from his intended path and headed to the throne room. He entered, glanced around hoping to see King Kabe or another knight. When none presented themselves, he called out to the room at large.

“Hello? I’m back… Why is everyone so dour?”

Brassport

Emily grew more and more concerned as she walked beside Sarinon. The young woman was even paler than was normal, only her skin had a sickly tinge to it, only noticeable in the daylight. She stumbled as she walked, a fact that many would have attributed to her lack of sight, but Emily knew better. Sarinon walked fine when she was healthy, hardly needing any help at all to get around the city she knew so well. Only rarely did she run into trouble.

No, thought the maid to herself, she is getting worse. I must get her back home.

“Lady,” she said aloud, taking Sarinon’s elbow into her hand, “please let me take you home. You are in no condition to be out like this.” She glared at the smartly dressed man who walked with them, but the man seemed not to notice.

“No, Emily. I …” Sarinon paused, coughing slightly. She stopped, trembled and then lurched over, falling to her hands and knees on the cobbled street. Emily gasped and hurried to her, helping her to move to the side of the road. She sat her mistress down on a stone bench and told her to rest for a while before Sarinon grew impatient and insisted that she was well enough to continue.

By the time they reached the Assembly Hall, Sarinon was feeling dizzy again and Emily made her sit while she fetched her some food from a bakery just over the street. Forcing her mistress to eat the small loaf, Emily couldn’t help but be worried.

The man bowed to Sarinon. Emily leaned over and told her what he had done. Sarinon waved a hand dismissively so the man bid them farewell and entered the hall, leaving the two women at the side of a busy street full of panicked crowds. Sarinon, however, couldn’t help but smile as she felt the soul of her brother grow stronger. He was coming.

[Angie]

[ Outside Mercenary Base ]


Hawk-Eye threw the knife.

It spun through the air in a clear straight path, sure of itself, flashing briefly in the sun like the dangerous wink of a stranger who knew too much. Hawk stopped, his body tingling with the tension, listening to the two-second hum. The hum was his favorite part about the knives. Every time he threw, that familiar siren song was there, and every time it would tell him that it was his. The hum was death, and for one brief moment it was there for Hawk to own and to choose and to give. The decision belonged to him. He could make the decision.

Hawk-Eye threw the knife and heard the thud.

The nineteen-year-old walked to the base of the oak tree, knelt, picked up the fallen knife. He'd done it wrong. Where the earlier blades had lodged themselves into the bark like arrows fired from the bow - he quickly shook his thoughts clear of that - this attempt had simply clattered against the tree and landed.

Wrong, his brain said. Wrong, wrong.

But it was practice, not battle. There was time to examine, or in this case reexamine, his mistakes. Hawk was practicing with one of his smaller knives and those were deadly, but tricky; they were the ones you had to throw hard and sudden and fast. The snap throw, they called it. If you did it too slow the knife would wobble or weaken in its flight and it wouldn't strike the target. Or worse, it would, but it wouldn't kill.

You couldn't hesitate. Throwing light knives meant no second thoughts.

So why am I doing this? he asked himself for the hundredth time that hour. What had possessed him to pull out the light knives today? Hell, until this morning he'd never thought of them as anything more than basic survival tools. Never for his work. Light knives were for murder and cold blood. Hawk could kill in combat - and he had, many times over – but he could never murder in cold blood.

Except.

"There's no except," he said aloud.

The thought persisted. Except for that hum...

"Shut up," he told himself, painfully aware of the downward progression of the situation. He'd been doing so well today. Practice, detach yourself, practice, fight, detach yourself again. But then there were moments like now when he was trying to keep himself from going crazy, the way he did those occasional sleepless nights in bed; he growled at the strength that was also his weakness because he was tired of being haunted by nightmares and memories and not knowing which was which. "Just shut up." And he stepped back and threw the knife again.

This time something strange happened.

He released the knife and the ground lurched violently beneath him and for one frozen, terrifying, upside-down moment, everything did go wrong - Hawk did want to throw the light knives, he wanted to go out right now and kill people, he wanted to hear that hum go on and on and he'd never felt this way before but it was horrible and tempting and completely, completely wrong-

Then it was over.

Earthquake.

Hawk made another move to throw, but his arm already ached from the exertion of the snap throws and furthermore, he found that he was suddenly, inexplicably exhausted.

"You're not an assassin," he muttered to himself, and he turned to head back inside.

[Scar]

-Somewhere near the Mercenary Base-

It had been a couple of months since he'd been down this road but he was glad to note that nothing had changed since then. The worn tires kicked up pebbles as the old military jeep wound its way through the secluded forest path leading towards the Mercenary Base's rear entrance.

One of the last few remaining, working vehicles the Mercs owned, Scar had ... requisitioned it for the long journey up north and anticipating that, that may not have went down well with some of the other members he was pleased at the 'tribute' he managed to procure. Said tribute was currently making little metallic noises under the tarp at the back of the jeep as they were jostled about. It may just be canned food but to Scar, who knew the value of such things to the poverty ridden Mercenaries, it was a happy little noise, full of promise of a warm meal that did not involve peanut butter. Already he was licking his lips at the thought of a decent, warm meal.

It didn't help that the jeep's exhaust smelt of french fries. That was the other thing the tribute was making up: stealing the guild's supply of cooking oil to power the bio-diesel jeep.

It wasn't long before the road widened out into a small clearing facing a cliff. Scar smiled. Or rather what was supposed to be a cliff. He was glad to see that the Mercs still kept up security. He drove up to the base of the cliff and pointed a small device in the direction of where he hoped the door controls were, praying that the batteries still worked.

The device beeped and he was rewarded by the loud grating of rust encrusted metal and the sight of part of the 'cliff' sliding up to reveal the cavernous hangar bay. With a flick of his tail and a grunt, Scar gunned the engines and drove past, pointing the device over his shoulder again to seal the hidden door shut.

Even before the deep, rumbling sounds of the sliding door has stopped, he had hastily reversed the jeep onto the loading ramp. Hopping out nimbly, the anthropomorphic cat scrambled to the rear of the jeep to shoulder his trusty rifle before scooping an armful of colourfully labeled tin cans. Making his way up the ramp towards the service elevator, he could help but whistle and call out in his deep baritone voice.

"I'm back! Where are you lot!"

It was then that the earthquake hit.

Cursing in fright, Scar ran towards the elevator, dropping cans as he did. Unfortunately for him, one of the cans rolled under his boots and with another curse the unfortunate cat tumbled headlong into the lift car ... just as a heavy beam crashed behind him. Yelping, he quickly thumbed the call button as more debris rained down across the hangar.

With a tortured jerk, the elevator car rose and Scar breathed a sigh of relief ... only to let out a stream of curses at the sight of a section of ceiling falling onto the hood of the jeep.

By the time he had gotten halfway up the lift he already owed the swear jar whatever he had in his wallet.


-Brassport-

Oscar Featherstone was not having a good day.

It had started out rather swell with him waking up in the fine bedchambers of his equally fine host, a lonesome noblewoman whose husband had been gone for quite some time at sea. He remembered her sharing a bottle of her finest brew while he shared the tales of his journeys, embellishing the details of course for that added oomph. One thing led to another and there he was; warm, happy and richer by several diamond rings he had procured when his host was less than attentive.

Of course with his luck, that peace didn't last for very long. Not when the woman's husband paid her a surprise visit. Moments later, he was hopping out the window, clothes askew and trousers between his teeth. And as if to add insult to injury he landed in a rose bush, a landing that stung all the more from the lack of trousers.

Ah the thrill of the chase (or rather, the flight). Oscar remembered that part well. By the time he had made it to the rooftops, he had all his clothes in order. Which was a good thing because this particular Angry-And-Overweight-Husband happened to be the proud owner of a pair of steam powered, mechanical legs who easily matched his pace with great leaps and bounds.

Undeterred, Oscar fumbled about within his utility belt, feeling the tiny canisters hidden within, fingering the embosed symbols in search of the -- BANG! CRACK! Ah, he seems to be packing steampower too. Lovely.

Ah here we go. He remembered giving a suitably roguish grin then. Everyone in his profession -- gentleman adventurers mind you -- had one of those grins and it meant either "I'm being friendly" or "Gotcha!"

He could just imagine the poor sod. Imagine how triumphant he felt at nearly catching up to the rogue, laughing in contempt at the measley smoke bomb the little devil had thrown ahead of them. Imagine his confidence as he charged blindly through the acrid smoke, probably grinning at the prospect of wringing the rat's neck.

Imagine his shock at stepping into thin air. Well Oscar remembered seeing that last bit at least. Knowing that it was the edge of a roof, he had lashed out behind him with his whip as he leapt, catching onto a beam before swinging back to safety. His unlucky pursuer however took a nice cold dip in the polluted stream below.

Oscar had paused to laugh at the sod's misfortune before scampering off across the roofs, several hundred gold cogs richer for his efforts, in the direction of the Aerodome.

And how exactly was this a bad day?

It started sometime later when he got to his little airship, The Mockingbird, docked in the back of a seedy tavern in the shadow of the impressive Aerodome.

Knowing it wouldn't be long before the sodden wrath descended on him, Oscar had decided to cut his losses and bid Brassport adieu. Tossing a bag of silver cogs to the grumpy rag that was a tavern keep on the way out, he hopped into The Mockingbird, released the tethers, and lifted off into the smoky skies.

Oscar nodded his approval at the lovely clear weather (or as lovely as it could get in smoggy Brassport) and favourable winds. Rising past the long piers of the Aerodome, Oscar gave a grin and flipped a curt salute, as if thanking the city for being such a nice sucker.

Only the city seemed to have the last laugh. He didn't remember much of the event but he had the distinct memory of half the airship disappearing into thin air, as if a giant invisible beast had taken a bite, before plummeting to the ground. He did his best to steer with what little rudders he had left but in the end all he could think of was jumping.

It was then that the boiler exploded.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself dangling by his belt at the edge of one of the Aerodome's girders. Looking down he saw the remains of The Mockingbird, crushed against the side of a much larger vessel, while a small group of people stared up at him.

He gave them a wave and gave them the "I'm being friendly" grin.

[Deleted]

Spacefleet

"Leoness?"

A faint expression of surprise was traceable in Ethan's face, and Leoness felt relieved that he remembered her. Not that she wasn't grateful for Scorch's 'warm welcome', but at least she could have a two-way conversation with Ethan.

She took an eager step forward, about to throw out the question that had been burning her mind since she woke up...
... when she was interrupted by the Ethan's peculiar but loveable canine.

"Woff! Woff!" His paws landed on her chest as she crouched down to pet him. He'd grown so much since the last time she saw him... teeth included. She made a funny mental note that he kindof reminded her of a cute puppy version of Scorch. She giggled.

Leoness got up again, wiping some salivia off of her cheek with a grin, and got ready to ask Ethan again...
... only to be interrupted by another greeting:

"Chief Leoness!"

She turned her head to the left and saw the couple who had been arguing when she first came to the door. She vaguely remembered them as Dr. Cürian and Nurse Friedman.
Chief Leoness, eh? Guess that solves my initial request, she thought. She smiled and felt like she had just found her way back home after spending a year in solitude.
Which wasn't that far from the truth, actually.

"Thank goodness you're here! Perhaps you could help with our little dispute," Dr. Cürian continued.

Dispute.
Leoness remembered what Scorch had said. But somehow she didn't feel like calling the Bridge and disturb his thoughts. Besides, if she really was back as the Chief Medic, it was required of her to solve all Sickbay matters.

The question was still burning inside, but she didn't want to start her first day back at work with pursuing personal issues.
She sent Ethan a grateful smile and hoped that he would understand that she wanted to talk to him and that he'd stick around until the matter was solved.

An anonymous, white lab coat was hanging on the wall next to the door. It looked clean and new. She grabbed it and slid her arms through the sleeves and adjusted the neck of it with a jolting motion; it fit her perfectly.
With both hands in the pockets of the coat, she turned towards Dr. Cürian and Nurse Friedman. "What seems to be the problem, Doctor?"

[Sq]

"Hey, wait! I'm coming too, alright?"

Sytra stood at the front entrance of the Merc HQ, smiling to herself as Jernath hollered at her. Clint was coming too, it seemed. Good. She was glad to have some company, even if she didn't want to admit it. She never did like being alone...

She shivered. The front door of the Merc HQ slid open.

The violet-haired girl wasn't expecting someone to be standing on the other side. She tensed at first, her hand instinctively hovering over her belt where her weapons hung - until she realized that this was a friendly face.

She smirked at him. "Hello, Hawk. Nice earthquake, huh?"

She didn't slide out of the doorway, or even wait for him to move, but simply teleported past him. She rematerialized a moment later a few feet behind him.

"We're going off to look for some work. And food. Come if you want."

She marched out into the clearing, thinking of waffles and spaghetti and giant chocolate cakes--

Crrrrrrrrrrrack

The unsettling noise pierced the otherwise quiet area. Sytra turned her head, looking toward the forest. Another crack sounded out, and then another. She tilted her head to the side curiously. It sounded like wood being broken, or something…

A flurry of ear-scathing snapping. The sound was strangely akin to bones being cracked in half.

Trees were falling. A lot of trees were falling. There was a loud rushing wave of rustling leaves and snapping branches as they plummeted, almost as if in slow motion: powerfully but decisively. The trees all landed with a boom, while the disconcerting noises echoed mercilessly through the clearing.

The girl squinted, standing paralyzed in the middle of the clearing as she realized what was going on.

Something was sucking the trees up into the earth. Sucking them up and eating them whole. Crushing their trunks as if they were plastic. Gobbling their limbs and leaves as if gorging on a feast. And there seemed to be an origin to it all, a place where all the roots were being sucked into. Trees fell on their backs, sliding across the forest ground toward this center point as they were vacuumed into a dark, swirling and malevolent void.

Sytra swallowed, pointing a trembling finger at the scene as she stood there dumbly, her mouth hanging open in terror and fascination and excitement.

“H-hey guys? I think we have a… bit of a problem.”

[The Underdeep]

It woke up as a new window opened to the world from its kingdom. A Mercenary was standing close, gesturing towards it. It turned away, uninterested for now.

That mage and her strange bird were gone. It suddenly felt so...empty. There were others in the depths of course but a puzzle is incomplete even if most of the pieces are in place.

Besides, they would never surrender. They were good, fighting against evil and not allowing their minds to be corrupted. Or, in the case of that Sue, too selfish and too pure to even try to. It needed others. And they needed to be close.

It caught the faint feel of evil, masked as it was by the nauseating desire to do good. Evil was evil no matter how you looked at it. The ones who let it grow were fools indeed. Evil wasn't a plaything.

It reached a tentacle through the open door in the basement of the Mages' Manor and seemed to sniff a few times at the body of the unconscious necromancer. It liked the smell. But the necromancer was not the only source.

Another tentacle extended out to the dragon-human, sniffing her out. She too carried the smell of evil. Two targets. This was almost perfect.

Tentacles shot out from the portal but instead of wrapping around, the points dug into their skin and seeped into their bodies, bonding with the evil. The process was painless, it made sure of that. It needed messengers in their best condition.

More and more reached out, lifting the mages from the ground and dragging them towards the Underdeep and towards it.[/b][/color]

[The Underdeep]

Blessings became curses. Dreams became nightmares. Just when he thought he had it all figured out, his mind and body would be whisked away yet again. It was like he was a feeble plaything within someone else's dream.

For what seemed like years, he rushed through endless caverns, crossed endless mountains, and battle endless streams of monsters that, for all practical purposes, made no sense whatsoever. They were usually easy enough to dispose of, though - a strong punch to the gut or a rock spire was usually enough to take down single foes. For larger groups, he'd summon as much psionic energy he could to literally transform the battlefield in his favor. His favorite tactic was to pull the earth up from behind his foes and pull it towards him like a tidal wave of stone. Once the wave obliterated the monsters, he'd make a strategic leap into the air to avoid crushing himself with his own ability.

A few times, just for kicks, he'd fire his Leecher at one of the various creatures, stealing whatever strange power they possessed so that he could use it against them. Sometimes it was even more effective than his regular attacks, while other times it did nothing.

He'd sometimes laugh to himself, wondering why in the world these abominations were so easy to slaughter, and yet, for some incomprehensible reason, the "savages" he faced before had escaped all means of death. The mercenaries he attacked in the forest... They should have dropped dead the moment he fired his weapons. How could they have been so resistant? They had no armor, no advanced technology of any kind...

Normally, he'd feel intense rage over the thought of being upper-handed by primitive lifeforms, but after traveling in this strange place for so long, his anger diminished. Instead, he felt trapped and concerned. Was this his punishment for failing? Was this some kind of "afterlife," so to speak, where the immortal beings of NTWF punished the wicked for eternity?

If it was, he figured, then perhaps he should stop resisting the forces around him and accept his inevitable fate... to let the darkness of this environment consume him completely.

Ironically, just as he was saying that to himself, he spotted a bright ball of fire in the far distance. Although it wasn't very bright from his position, it was still enough to cause him to shield his eyes. Being in the dark for such a long time can do bad things to one's vision.

Quickly, he stormed towards the flaming light, his legs rushing as fast as they could. As he approached it, he was very much surprised at what he saw: Sev the phoenix. Not too far away was his kitsune companion, Ikkin. Sev seemed to be preoccupied with torching the monsters around them, while Ikkin seemed to just walk forward aimlessly, ignoring the monsters as if she was in some kind of daze.

The discovery of these two characters, however, was nothing compared to what he found next. In the light of Sev's flames, he could finally see what the monsters of this terrible placed looked like.

They were him. Every single one of them looked exactly like him, right down to his Spacefleet armor and malevolent, lifeless gaze. An endless army of Commanders.

The Commander stopped dead in his tracks, and for a moment, he grew dizzy with thought. What if he wasn't even real? What if he was just some cheap knockoff like the rest of the beasts that surrounded him?

What if HE was the true savage?

Sev didn't give him much time to think, though. Before he could even react, he felt his body become engulfed in searing flames. He didn't even have time to wonder why his shields weren't blocking the heat, as he had turned into a pile of ash within seconds under the overwhelming strength of the phoenix fire. Whether he was the real Commander or not, he was gone now.

[Deleted]

((Not sure if I have any of my own timelines straight, but since I'm using Aly at 16 years here, Ro is 18/19, and Asta is about 23. Dang. XD))

<<Castle Kestrel>>
It felt odd. It wasn't that every day with nothing happening meant that something bad was going to happen. And while Rosa--better known as Ro--felt irritated and wore a scowl on her face as she walked through the castle halls, it would have been more worrying if she weren't in her usual cloud of critical thinking and general peevishness. Today wasn't any different from the last few weeks she'd been having.

So why wasn't she convinced?

Sweep of fiery waves tied up in a semblance of neatness, the young Amaranth knight looked down and pulled her hand from the hilt of her sword. Relájate, she chided herself, stopping at the thought. Think in English, she added with a grimace, realizing the switch of tongues. But her thinking--or using short words or phrases in speech--in Spanish wasn't all that uncommon. Forcing her arms to hang at her sides, not on the handles of the shortsword and dagger she had at her waist, she tried to think of something that wouldn't leave her on edge. Leaning against the cold, solid stone of the castle walls, she glanced towards either end of the hall with sharp blue eyes. If she could rest a moment, and go outside for some practice with a longsword...or maybe even with the bow, she'd neglected that lately--

The floor shook under her, and caught off-guard, Ro put out a foot and lurched from doubling over to straightening to her feet. She slammed a hand against the stone and left her weight there as the tremor passed. Un terremoto, the knight thought in surprise. She found herself steadying her body against the wall as her sense of balance and sight wobbled. A wave of nausea swept over her, and the air seemed to press in more than it had all day. Maybe that was it. The air had felt heavier, like it was trying to weigh her down...

She stood, not even bothering to keep her hand from her shortsword. Unlike her cousin, she wasn't a mage, but she have a little sensitivity to magic and the like. Whatever she was feeling now, it wasn't good. Ro automatically turned towards the throne room and started walking, her boots making soft sounds upon the stone as her pace quickened. What happened?

She came to the room's entrance as a voice called out. “Hello? I’m back… Why is everyone so dour?”

"Dime," Ro snapped. She kicked the back of her leg and repeated it, this time in English with less venom in her voice. "Tell me. There was a terremoto--an earthquake--that did not feel right." She fought against a rising feeling of anger, pessimism, irritation...all things that were normal for her, but were amplified to a level that was starting to make her worried. She didn't recognize the man before her, but then again, she didn't recognize many of the knights here anyway. Introductions could wait. "You didn't feel it?"

***

<<Brassport>>
That was pretty pathetic. The young woman drew herself up from the ground, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her overcoat and immediately regreting the decision. She brushed the dirt from her sleeves and used a spare square of cloth in her pocket instead, checking that it was clean and not soaked with spilled chemicals first. Satisfied with that, Asta looked around. So I'm still where I was, but...

That was wrong. Very wrong. For one, the sky looked...different, though at least she could attribute that to being knocked out for a time. but between the buildings, over rooftops, she saw patches of land where she should have seen soot-stained buildings and shining metal. What was this, and where were they? Clearly, she was still in Brassport, but...no, it didn't seem as big as it should have. Was this really the same place?

Shaking her head, she unbuckled the belt that held her blade and checked it, sweeping a bit of dirt from the sheath and refastening the whole thing in place. Clapping dust from her hands, looking down and remembering that she had her gloves on--fingerless, so she could still handle things with dexterity--and taking two capsules between her fingers. The air felt even colder as it breezed past her, and somehow she didn't think it was from chills. "Whatever," Asta muttered, walking towards the Assembly Hall in hopes of finding others to ask about this situation. Maybe her sight was just wrong. It was possible. She could've hit her head on the ground. Though it wasn't injured, as far as she could tell.

Asta stopped in front of the Hall, spotting what looked like a familiar face. Maybe. She's only seen her once, or maybe just heard of her since joining the new guild. Though really, it was the whole person rather than the face that she recognized. Now, if I could just remember her name...

Quietly slipping the capsules back into their slots, she stepped through the people towards the woman and her companion. "Morning," she called, realizing as she said it that she didn't have any idea of what time it was. She said nothing else. If something odd was happening, then either the Guild would inform her of it, or other curious people would. Hopefully. In any case, she wasn't about to open her mouth and be taken for a crazy woman, whatever had happened.

[Huntress]

"This the cave?"

"Yeah."

Bloody Mary eyed the cave, resisting the urge to throw up. It had been a bumpy ride. "It looks more like a badly built hideout. The only thing it needs is a sign that reads TOTALLY SAFE, WE PROMISE. Why'd she go in there?" He took a moment to stare blankly ahead with a decisive scowl. "Okay. We can do this. Lay down and roll over, will you?"

Shiva turned his head to stare at him. "Say what?"

"I'm holding a plastic bag full of water. Can't very well jump down from this height while holding it."

The horse gave something of a grunt and obeyed. The meepit slid off his back, carefully holding the plastic bag and a small metal box.

It'd been very eventful ten minutes. First they'd been to the Weewoo where Bloody Mary had technically committed mutiny by taking the small box of phoenix down from Hunty's drawer, then they'd headed through a marketplace, added daylight robbery to their sins and given a number of old ladies very interesting stories to tell their grandkids in the evenings. Now the meepit was facing the dark ominous mouth of the cave, armed with the phoenix down, a piece of string and a bag that contained one live oyster.

"This is some kind of specialized meepit occult, isn't it?" Shiva asked, wondering to himself if crazy was contagious.

"You could say that," Bloody Mary agreed, sidling towards the cave. He could already feel the tug of the forces that lurked in there. This was definitely stronger than those few previous times that he'd had to deal with the Underdeep. "We call it Temporary Protective Device That Isn't Worth Beans Really But Buys You Some Time If You Have Your Mind Right (No Guarantees). It rolls off the tongue a little better in meepit. So here's the deal. You know where she is, right? We'll leave the phoenix down here, one extra reason to get back out really fast, if it gets lost in the meantime, Hunty will tan our hides. I go first and create a diversion. You come in right after, grab the body, get the heck out, I get the heck out right after you, we revive her, she owes us big time. All clear?"

Shiva tilted his head. "I like it. Simple, easy to remember. Except this diversion part-"

"Got it covered." Bloody Mary gave the entrance one last decisive morale-boosting glare, then took the oyster out of the bag and tied it to his head.

"Shame I don't have any time to paint my face camouflage, but guess that's what you get when acting spontaneously," he said. "Alright. Ready, set, go."

He emptied his mind.

Rabid meepits are, by definition, unnatural. They're mutants who gained sentience because of a virus, which really sounds a lot cooler than it really is, especially in their own opinion, but it has its perks. It's easier for them to think nothing at all because they remember how it used to go. And if a mind is empty...

Bloody Mary darted into the darkness.

...other minds can take priority.

Oysters aren't exactly bright thinkers, to be fair. They don't fear, per se, usually not up until the very last moment. But like all animals who've come through thousands of years of surviving, they have a survival instinct and a concept of what something that might end that survival might be like.

Here was the body, straight ahead. There was the clatter of hooves, straight behind him.

Here was a... something, forming in the darkness straight ahead, stretching out what might have been jaws or claws. Somewhere right on the edge of the hearing range, there was the murmur of the ocean.

Shiva dashed past him, neck stretched out. The body lay at hand. Or at mouth, as it were.

Bloody Mary pulled the oyster off and hurled it straight into the darkness.

"Go!"

They never wanted to relive the next seconds ever again.

"One good thing about the Underdeep is," Bloody Mary panted when out in the daylight again, "that it's slow. It sortof creeps up to you. I think it likes it, or maybe it's more effective that way. Whew. How is she?"

"Dead," Shiva said, deadpan. He'd leaned against a tree and really wanted to bite something right now. Rider's clothes didn't obviously count.

"We'll see about that." The meepit shot a glance at the cave over his shoulder. He hadn't gotten out completely untouched, the fear still lingered at the back of his mind, but the cave was far enough. They wouldn't reach them here. Not just yet.

He opened the box, guesstimated the right amount - waste not, the captain always said, and Sev hadn't been around in a while - and showered Rider's body with phoenix down.

[Celestial]

Celestial noticed the other mage with them, although she could not attach a name to that face just yet. She focused on trying to bring Rikku around so that they could get thing thing over and done with. They needed all the mages that they had and three were so much better than two.

The Underdeep stirred. Celestial leapt up, the slits of her eyes narrowing in response to the threat. Flames once again flared up along her arms, ready to defend the people around her from the thing coming through.

What emerged was somebody that Celestial had not seen for a long time. The flames died away as Sev and Ikkin stepped through the Underdeep. Despite herself, the Dragon Mage smiled. It was good to see her again.

"Okay, can someone please explain what the Underdeep is doing in the basement of Mage Manor?"

"I have no idea, it just...appeared. There was an earthquake and not a small one but I doubt it could have caused a hole this big," she replied with a shrug. Now that Ikkin was here, things would turn out for the be- no, better not say things that tempt fate. This had barely even begun.

"If I knew what the Underdeep were, I might be able to tell you, but so far as I know we just stumbled upon this trying to check something out. Ask her. And while we're at it, what are those things, and how do we fight them?" the mage who had come in replied. Celestial looked over at her.

"The Underdeep is a place of nightmares, where everything terrible that you can imagine becomes real. Not even the most cold-hearted of villains want to spend any time in that place," she replied, trying to stay matter-of-fact. The smell felt like it was invading her mind now, although how smells can do that is a question that needed to be answered by science.

"As for how to defeat the thing I don't think there is any wa-" she freeze as the tentacle crept into her field of vision. She stared as it seemed to examine her like a scientist does a specimen. Her dragon side was telling her to snap at it and bite, destroy it but no side wanted to take charge of Celestial's actions.

Suddenly, it latched onto her arm and began pulling. The Dragon Mage tugged her arm back, flying up in an attempt to dislodge it. The tentacle however was not letting go. More were grabbing onto her and she felt them dig into her skin, even though the process was surprisingly painless. They were pulling her towards the Underdeep.

"Help me!" she shouted to anybody. Celestial's gaze dashed around the room. Rikku was also being taken by the tentacles.

She struggled and grabbed one of them, trying to tear it off but it only gripped harder. Another mass tore her arm away and wrapped around it, holding it steady. Celestial cursed her inability to transform in such a confined space for if she was a dragon, she could easily have shaken them off.

The Underdeep drew closer. She felt her arm go into it as it seemed to slide apart. Her wings still flapped as fast as they could, participating in the tug-o-war she was losing.

She slipped into the darkness. Strangely and contratry to all books and films have taught her, everything didn't go black or white. It actually went a really strange shade of orange.

Then the eyes opened. One by one, as if some Lovecraftian Horror had awoken (about five pages late), they stared at her. Celestial opened her mouth and tried to scream. No sound came out.

Only then did everything go black.

[Rider]

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

A pillar of fire devoured Rider's body and regenerated it in perfect condition, every cell. Looking back on the experience, Rider would later say it tickled. A bit like being assaulted by a rather warm down pillow. The sort that explodes on impact.

Rider took a deep breath and rose to her knees. Her eyes were still downcast. "Where am I?"

"Rider?"

"Shiva?" Rider reached up and touched her horse's muzzle. She lifted her gaze to find... oh dear.

"Bloody Mary?" Rider backed away from the Meepit hastily, still on all fours. "Are you with Hunty? But she - Shiva, she shot me! You saw it, didn't you?"

Shiva shook his head slowly. "You got shot by something, but I was outside the cave. I couldn't see."

"It was Hunty... It felt like a dream. But it must have been real."

[Jina]

The White Weewoo

"I say we do the not-make-trouble thing for once. I'm not sure I'm liking the amounts of trouble we've been getting into lately."

"I propose we find a semi-respectable tavern, indulge in a few beverages, and see where the night takes us."

"And that's not making trouble? You know there'll be a bar fight, or something. If you want to play it safe, we should just stay here," said Jina.

Wait... did I just say no to beverages?

"Although that being said, I didn't like Goosh's suggestion in the first place."

------

((Warning: NPCs, dead ahead.))

Mountain Lodge Clearing

"Everyone ready?" There were nods all around. "Okay, fellow adventurers, time to battle."

The speaker, Corenu, put his hand into a bag hanging around his neck. Instantly, a dozen creatures appeared around the group. A battle broke out, but the creatures really didn't have a chance.

These were true adventurers, travelling from place to place, finding people who were in trouble, and going on a quest to help them. However, in their spare time, they still liked to keep up the combat practice. After all, how else would they get experience points better at killing things that got in their way?

There were four adventurers. Corenu was the healer, although he also like to carry a bow. Then there was Sarah, a druidess. Not one of the sun-worshippers, either, she was a proper transforming druidess. Their mage, Patri, specialised in just a few spells, but was so good at them she could literally do them in her sleep. That made it rather dangerous to make too much noise outside her tent at night. Last, but not least, was their leader. Halin was a slightly precognitive swordsman. He could only see things happening about a second before they did, but it was useful when fighting, and also for stopping people from being able to sneak up on him.

"I say one more fight, then we go back inside," said Halin. "Since it's getting pretty dark and all."

Everyone agreed to this, and Corenu reached into the bag on his neck one more time. The bag itself was not special, it was the thing inside that mattered. It was a pebble that a magician had turned into a trap. All someone had to do was place it on a doorknob, and when somebody tried to open the door, they'd get surrounded by various beasts. They had found it during one of their quests, and after finding a mage to look into it, they found out that when it touched something living, it summoned in whatever creatures it found in other planes. They'd used it for training ever since. The adventurers soon defeated their final opponents for the day, and went into the lodge to rest .

When inside, Sandra turned to Halin. "So where are we going tomorrow?"

"I thought we'd head over to Tabloid Town. I've always wanted to go there, and there must be someone who wants us to go do something for them."

[Rikku]

Mage Manor – Basement Of Doom, Seriously, This Is Doomier Than Anything You’ve Ever Seen Before I Mean It Guys


Rikku never dreamed.

Or, at any rate, she never remembered her dreams upon waking. Which was rather a different thing, but all the same she was thankful. Often she woke up screaming. When steaming hot chocolate wasn’t enough to calm her, she called Fred, and he came and played his banjo. Not to soothe her, but to remind her that, however bad her nightmares were, they couldn’t be all that much worse than his playing. It was remarkable how even his flat notes came out sharp.

But right now she was beginning to think that she’d almost take one of his improvised songs over this. Almost.

She was dimly aware of things. The heavy stink of the Underdeep, an inexplicable letter appearing in her belt-pouch, the pleasant heat of fire, the cool dampness of the stone beneath her cheek … yes, she must have fallen. It didn’t seem to matter.

The Dragon Mage was slapping her, doing things with magic that made her lungs hurt and her veins burn. Telling her to wake up. Rikku tried to tell her to stop, no, don’t, she was already awake, she’d left herself wide open to any magic, it was raw and painful, didn’t Celestial see how it hurt? But she couldn’t talk. It hurt even to think. Something inside her was broken.

This really hadn’t been a good plan.

And now she couldn’t separate the nightmares from reality. There was someone edged in flickering fire, with burning eyes. Ikkin? Ikkin was a friend, the head of the Mages, the Mages who had taken her in when no one else would … But surely Ikkin had never had such sharp, sharp teeth, and surely her eyes had never burned like that, and the tentacles were, surely, a new addition too. And there were other things, enemies scorning her, her few allies standing and looking at her silently, standing by and doing nothing, grinning shadows surrounding her and laughing, laughing, laughing.

It was like the times when you’ve been lying in bed for hours, alone in the dark, and you’re so utterly exhausted you can’t move, so exhausted you can’t possibly sleep. Your mind goes in circles, the same thoughts over and over. And there’s no way out.

And then the nightmare got worse.

A dark tentacle oozed over to her, and then another, and another, and they wrapped around her and … into her somehow, plunging into her skin. It didn’t hurt, not exactly, but it was a very painful kind of non-hurting, like it only didn’t hurt because she was too numb to feel it. And then they dragged her forward, and she could still do nothing, because she’d used everything up, burned up every last scrap of energy she had and left herself scorched inside.

And vulnerable.

Rikku was dragged into the darkness, which made way for her. This couldn’t be right. The Underdeep was only semi-sentient, wasn’t it? This … this seemed … this couldn’t be right, this couldn’t be happening, somebody stop it, please …

She was suddenly aware of a consciousness all around and inside her, watching, with a kind of malicious glee that she recognised, with a shiver, as being remarkably similar to her own.

On the bright side, she thought, unwisely, it can’t get any worse.

And then the tentacles plunged into her mind.