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“Cassiopeia, keep it windy!” This was the game plan, it seemed. Alicia, the treacherous administrator that she was, wanted to poison Quinn’s dear Cassiopeia, but as long as the winds kept in the Drifloon’s favor, that was going to be a tall task indeed. With each additional Gust, more and more splinters found their way into the Salandit’s body. Quinn felt rather proud of itself. It was one thing to emerge victorious when taking on a child barely older than Quinn, it was another to hold one’s own with so much more on the line. It made Quinn feel better about her chances in the actual league challenge. But such feelings were not to last, as the moment the Gust died back down, the Salandit roared and flames erupted from its mouth, spreading much faster than either Quinn or Cassiopeia could anticipate. “Oh, you ignorant creature,” Alicia said. It was unclear exactly who she was addressing when she said that. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘fanning the flames?’ So much for all that hot air you were blowing.” It was true. When the heat finally died down, Cassiopeia looked so much worse for wear. Her balloon body, normally polished to pristine condition, was covered in scorch marks and ash. And yet, despite this, Cassiopeia looked more determined than ever. “Hot air, of course, is what balloons run on,” Quinn said. Cassiopeia’s Flare Boost ability was something Quinn had discovered accidentally, after discovering a much too radical painting method for his young age involving a blowtorch and a piece of rope. There had been a long series of apologies back then, but Quinn always kept the knowledge in the back of faer mind. The Salandit tried to lunge forward again, but Cassiopeia was ahead of it this time, moving right as Quinn gave the command. “You can catch it off guard!” Quinn said. Cassiopeia did just that, her Astonish flying right up into the Salandit’s face. What could the Salandit do against such a visage but blink first? “Now blow it away!” Cassiopeia’s Gusts were indeed more powerful than before. Inch by inch, the Salandit started to lose ground on the dock, fighting a losing battle with its grip against the forces of nature that kept battering it down. It tried another burst of flame, but in the effort, it lost its grip and flew back into the water. Quinn cheered. “Yes!” But at the same time, they could see Cassiopeia limping back to zir side. “You did so well, Cassiopeia,” e said, returning the Drifloon to her Pokéball. “Take a breather, and we will see what comes next.”

please don't call this chinese food

Chris needed a breather so badly, but there was one more mage to fight on the floor, and he wasn’t about to stand around while that was happening. The last time he had thrown a dagger at the blood mage, it had barely noticed anything had happened to it. And sure, the same might be true of a second dagger, but then again, if the blood mage was using magic to just ignore its wounds for as long as it could cast, Chris wanted to make sure those wounds were worth something by the time its spells wore off, just like the other cultists. He didn’t exactly charge -- Chris didn’t have the energy to charge forward anymore -- but he did manage to clamber on top of the dais in the center of the room. He could see why the mage chose this spot to attack from originally. He sure did feel taller, able to look down on anything as he was. It gave him a good view to see the massive wave of blood headed Lana’s way. Chris readied his second dagger. Unless the mage wanted to get swept up in its own barrage, it was going to have to do something. The opportunity was obvious as soon as it showed up. The waters parted around the mage, literally leaving its back exposed. “Hey! Bloodface!” Chris yelled as he let his dagger fly. The distraction was the point, after all. He probably couldn’t stop the mage’s magic, but he could at least flank it and divert its attention when it really mattered. All the same, the dagger sunk into the mage’s back, and the mage kept walking forward, with its crashing wave towards Lana. Chris had managed half of his goal, at least, and in lieu of trying in vain to accomplish the other half after the failure of yelling and daggers, he drew his sword and tried to make the successful half of the plan as damaging as he could. He took out the magic string too, just in case, but he made his approach, sword readied, trying to pick out where he would swing if he got the opportunity. The ankles, he decided. It had worked out so far.

Bridget managed to find Quinn first. It was only because of the growing, increasingly animated energy of the crowd around them that Quinn did not leap out of its shoes and relinquish zir hold on their fresh catch of the day. “Hi! Hello!” Quinn said. He held up the Net Ball for Bridget’s inspection. “Look! My very first attempt at fishing and I have come away from the experience with a Goldeen! This hat was not an unpropitious omen after all! In fact, I am already very sure that Pisces and I are going to be very good friends.” At this, the Net Ball wriggled in Quinn’s hand. Unlike just prior on the dock, this wriggle felt like it was more of excitement than a struggle, but Quinn still dutifully returned Pisces to his place with Quinn’s other Pokémon. “But what about you? Have you also found some aquatic acquaintance to match with? And where is Nathaniel?” Before Bridget could answer that question, though, a bell near the fishing hut rang to signal the end of the tournament. The crowd cheered, and it rang a few more times. “I suppose we will find him soon enough,” Quinn said, trying and failing to raise xir voice over the sudden cacophony. Quinn wondered, how much of that did Bridget actually hear? It did not matter, however, because before Bridget would ever get a chance to respond, the ringing bell was interrupted by a bang. A bomb went off! Suddenly, everyone was going this way and that. It was not quite enough energy for screaming and panic, but many understandably wanted to get away from potential smoke and debris, while others hurried closer to aid in the search for injuries. Quinn was trapped between the two instincts, motionless for quite a while until Quinn heard a familiar voice taking credit for the explosion. “We are Team Phoenix, and we’re going to change the world!” It was Alicia’s voice. Alicia, the woman who Quinn had met earlier and rescued from her hunger. Had Quinn known just who this woman was, well, she still would have done both of those things, because Quinn had not been lying when he said e would not wish starving on anybody, but Quinn would not have also offered kind words of encouragement or even an introduction! Quinn’s body was moving before hir mind even had the chance to process any more than that, and it was moving directly toward the source of that voice. Quinn even passed by Nathaniel as he started to engage with one of the grunts off to the side. Quinn had no such designs. “YOU!” Quinn shrieked, extending a single accusatory digit Alicia’s way. “After everything we shared together, this is how you repay us?” Alicia looked confused for a moment, “Shared?” but she covered it up with bravado. “Oh right, that. What, do you think one conversation makes us best friends or something? And what do you mean ‘repay?’ All we’re doing is taking what we need for our goals -- just like everyone else does. Quinn could not believe his ears. No, to be more precise, she refused to believe it. “It is those sorts of actions that will haunt you for the rest of your days,” Quinn said. “And, if the Guardians of the Boundary Between Worlds permit me, so shall I.” It was the first time Quinn had threatened to haunt someone since becoming a ghost. It had been assumed before, with some of the other children in Etena City teasing the possibility, but this was Quinn’s first utterance of such a curse. And again, Alicia did not give such a moment its due weight. Instead, she was reduced to babbling nonsense. “We’ll see who’s haunting who when we complete our goal!” she said. And again, Quinn was moving without thinking. Cassiopeia’s Pokéball was already in the air, and, one flash of light later, there she was, as big and protective as a balloon Pokémon with string for arms could be. Alicia threw out her own ball and out came a Salandit, all crouched over and with a wicked grin on its face. Alicia said, “You know what to do,” and a gleam flashed in the Salandit’s eye. Quinn had not realized how used they had been to the smell of the sea until it was gone. It was replaced with something sickeningly sweet, like overripe fruit that was just about to rot, made even worse by the contrast of what had just come before. The Sweet Scent seemed to affect Cassiopeia even more. No longer was she the high-flying, skittish balloon she always had been. Her movements were still smooth, but they came out more deliberately, as though she really had to focus on them. “Cassiopeia, if you Minimize yourself, maybe that could wind you back up,” Quinn said. “Just be ready to expand back out to react when-” By the time Quinn was talking, the breeze shifted. The salty air was back, but it was shifting hue now, to a wretched purple. Even after warning Cassiopeia, Quinn still reacted first. “Poison! Cassiopeia, use Gust!” And thankfully, Cassiopeia did indeed have the mobility required to send her air all over the place, displacing all the poison she could without taking any in, picking up some splinters from the dock and blowing them into the Salandit too for good measure. But the Salandit did not seem to care, rushing forward, with an acidic drool in its mouth that it spat in Cassiopeia’s face. Cassiopeia was not able to avoid that one. The Venoshock attack struck her right in the face, and the poor Drifloon let out an anguished cry as she tried to recover. “No, do not rub your eyes, Cassiopeia, that will just get the poison further in!” Quinn said. “Try and blow it off with another Gust!” This did work better, though Quinn did have to cover its own eyes from more of the toxic spittle. Cassiopeia also did not wait to ask permission this time, she produced the Oran Berry Quinn had given her and popped it in her mouth. That was not to say Quinn disapproved, but they did try and offer her Pokémon a little more advice while she chewed. “We were perhaps too reactive,” Quinn said. “Next time, let us get in there and get them to think twice about trying that. We will really Astonish them, how does that sound?”

“Dive out of the way” Chris did. The cultist’s swings were massive, huge arcs of violence and steel, any one of them sure to knock Chris to the ground even in a best-case scenario. Of course, if he stayed on the ground, well, that was just inviting more bad options, so he had to push himself back up in a way that kept out of the way of those haymakers. He tried to deflect one -- not so much block the cultist’s sword as guide it with his away from his neck -- and it still felt like the force would rip his arm off if he did it wrong. Thankfully, because they were wild haymakers, the swings also didn’t have much accuracy behind them. As long as Chris kept moving, he could mitigate the danger. There wasn’t anything tricky going on. He had to look out for feints just in case, but the cultist seemed too enraged to even try any. Pretty soon, Chris was out of the way before the blade was even moving in that direction. But just as Chris was getting into a rhythm and readying himself to counterattack, something strange happened: The cultist simply stopped moving. It froze there, sword raised for another strike, but the sword never came crashing down. Chris held his sword up in anticipation, but the follow-through never came. Then Chris noticed what had actually changed: The red mist was gone. And just like that, the cultist collapsed to the ground. Chris still gave the body a good stabbing, making sure the cultist was well and truly dead, but it offered no more resistance. “You see? That’s what relying on magic gets you,” Chris said.

Carmen was as dramatic as ever. The way she placed a seal on the corpse reminded Brian of the fake Carmen in that office building, especially how she braced herself as if something too terrible to imagine was going to happen. Nothing did, of course. She recovered easily enough, though, and even offered a seal to the dog as though anything that night could be so easy. No such luck; the dog apparently still had things it wanted to do with its unlife. “What is it, Lassie? Is the big bad serial killer man still wandering the forest clutching his testicles or did he remember to bring a cup this time?” The dog seemed confused by the whole thing and barked as if trying to say so. Carmen then asked if Brian thought Kelvin was a ghost. It was a weird question, like, she saw him put a seal on and walk off, right? And why would a ghost need to carry around a crossbow? But also, now that he was thinking about it, the way Kaplan took the seal and stuck it on his chest reminded Brian a lot of how the fake Carmen had dealt with a seal when given the opportunity as well. She hadn’t put it on her forehead, that was for sure. He groaned. “Fuck, he might be,” Brian said. “Gotta make sure to ask him next time we see him.” Not that Brian had any intention of following through with such a statement, even as he did start moving back in the direction of Keith’s house. The dog started barking again, clearly more agitated this time, with its ears back and everything. “What?” Brian said. “We’d have to go that way anyway. That’s where the van is. I’m not getting replacement van fees taken out of my paycheck.” The dog flattened its ears and, after a moment, took off to the side, perpendicular to the direction Brian had been going. “Bitch,” Brian said under his breath. But no sooner had the word escaped his lips than he heard a noise from further towards the house, almost like a stifled cough from someone trying to catch their breath. That was enough to get Brian to turn around. He knew what that could mean. And no sooner had he done so that a shot rang out, and a bullet smashed into a nearby tree. Brian hit the ground. “Goddammit, he does own a gun,” he muttered, his voice even more obscured by a mouthful of dead leaves and dirt. He spat out what he could and crawled behind another tree. He tried to scan around for signs of movement, but he only managed to catch Carmen’s eye. Brian motioned for her to get down, not caring at all just what she’d have to get close and personal with to do so. The grave pit she’d dug was right there.

Whether it was because he killed the mage who had plagued him in the first place or just the fatigue spell wearing off, Chris did feel a bit better. Even if there was still a blood-crazed magician now standing on top of the malevolent altar in the middle of the room and three more cultists bearing down on Ziun, they were managing. Magic couldn’t last forever. Chris saw Lana step up as the altar-sorcerer turned itself into something very much unlike a sorcerer, which meant that it was his job to help Ziun. He sent a dagger after the blooodmage just in case the distraction helped Lana somehow, but he then turned his attention to navigating behind the other three cultists in the room. “Oh, you got bulked up too,” he said, comparing their current visages to his memory. “We’ll definitely have to do something about that. Hold on, Ziun.” The navigating was either said than done, though. “Bearing down on Ziun” in this case meant that all three were, to some degree, facing Chris too, which made it harder to sneak up on them. Chris had to take a wide route to avoid all of that, darting in and out of their peripheral vision. Thankfully, they seemed pretty focused on Ziun. It probably wasn’t great for the bard, but it did make his job much easier. As he approached, he sized up the exact nature of their “bulking up.” For example, it had taken him a couple of sword-swings before to get through the shoulders of these things. But if he could maybe hit a joint that needed a bit more flexibility… Hitting the wrist of the first cultist was difficult, but Chris seized the first opportunity he saw to try, and while he didn’t get a clean cut, he did at least manage to do some decent damage. The wrist joint hung loosely in the cultist’s hand, still hanging onto its sword, yes, but in a much less effective manner. The second cultist was in the middle of extending itself into a strike of some kind of conjuration given that it was stabbing where Ziun wasn’t, but it meant the monster’s wrist was far enough away from Chris that he couldn’t easily get to it. He went for a different, similar joint instead: the ankle. And for good measure, he tried to hit both on the third cultist. That all got their attention for sure. “Yeah, well, now what’re you going to do about it, though?” Chris said. He took a step backward and practically dared the cultists to fully turn around and chase him (if two of them even could). Fortunately for him, he did remember another of their important traits before they used it. “Oh right. Magic. Well, cheating aside, then…” The question stood, but he did tense up, ready to dive out of the way of whatever nonsense the cultists might try.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. -1 Peter 5:6-7 (NIV)In some ways, Melissa’s imagination made the whole experience worse. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said that rollercoasters were designed for near-death experiences, and she hadn’t even mentioned the rollercoaster that was designed for a full-death one. Intellectually, she knew that the rollercoasters that stuck around were the ones that had been rigorously tested and engineered to not actually kill you and also that she, Fen, and Trevor were probably the most equipped of anyone to handle if something went wrong, but none of that kept her from holding onto whatever she could for dear life. The crossbar holding her in place, the handrail at the front of the car, Fen’s wrist… nothing was safe from Melissa’s clutch. She didn’t scream, though. Melissa could hear other people screaming, even if most of it was drowned out by the wind rushing past, but she did not. Instead, in between hyperventilating breaths, she muttered quick “Oh, oh, ohs,” a staccato beat on every loop and sharp turn through the entire experience. At least the Stomach Dropper was true to its word. Whatever Melissa had been muttering, she shut up as soon as the coaster went airborne, her stomach lurching instead and leaving Melissa with only a state of panicked exhalations. Thankfully, the ride did not last much longer after that. One hairpin turn and a remarkably smooth braking mechanism later, and the coaster pulled back into the station. Melissa staggered out of the car, and it took a few moments to get her bearings again. Technically, she had been wrong. She didn’t actually want to go hide in a restroom or anything like that, but that was only because she didn’t want to do much of anything, certainly not anything that required physical activity. The only reason Melissa moved to the exit of the ride was because of a sense of duty, of not wanting to make a fuss. “I can see what you meant, Melissa,” Fen said. “That was…” She didn’t finish the sentence right away, so Melissa hoped that Fen might agree with her on this. In fairness, trying something out and deciding against ever repeating it was in some ways just as courageous as facing one's fears time and time again. Fen had done it, and Melissa had been there to facilitate the experience. Now she never needed to do it again. Alas, when Fen wheeled around with a smile on her face, Melissa knew this would not be the end of it. “Are you sure you would not prefer to see what kind of merrys-go-round they have on Prana?” Melissa asked, trying hard not to whimper. “Or bumper cars? Those are violent, but I can handle those…” Before anyone could continue the conversation further, though, someone called at the three from a nearby booth. “Yoohoo! You were in the front of that last Stomach Dropper ride, right? Can I interest you in a photo of your experience?” With a few presses on their tablet screen, the booth attendant found Fen and Melissa in one picture and Trevor in another. Fen looked jubilant, of course, while the Melissa in the photograph was doing her best to crawl into the fetal position despite her restraints. “Um,” Melissa said, not sure what else she even could say. In terms of pictures of her on Prana, it was the worst one by far, but given that she’d only had two, was that really a worthy category? It certainly wasn’t worth saying out loud. She didn’t want to be reminded of the Stomach Dropper for the rest of her life, but saying that wouldn’t do either. Instead, she just looked at Fen and Trevor again and slinked backward behind both of them.

Signals of Anxiety Tinker grimaced. “With such an open question like that, I worry I will not be able to supply everything you want to know,” he said. “Like I said, Cassandra was rather secretive. If I know more than you do, it is only because I was inducted into their circle and have more time to investigate. That is something, though. I will not deny that. With all that in mind, let me tell you this: “Whatever apocalypse Cassandra has foreseen, it is doomed to happen,” Tinker said. “Cassandra has given predictions before that have proven to be inaccurate, but those were off the cuff visions. Like I said, if Cassandra had bad information at the start, their power could only give them a bad output. This was known, even to them, of course, so if a portent like this were to show up, why would they not try to verify it beforehand before speaking out? So we have to believe them. The world is ending. There is no getting around that.” Perhaps the light breeze that had been drifting through the camp quieted then, or perhaps there were no more cars going down the nearby roadways. Either way, the ambient noise of the area went silent as Tinker continued. “By the same token, however, we should also remember that they gave their proclamation for a reason. Maybe we can still do something about it. Not stop it, but… survive, I suppose. Put another way, you can’t be looking at this as a crisis of prevention, but mitigation.” The ambient sound of the world returned. “Cassandra had us contact you for a reason, too, of course,” Tinker said. “Now, I will need to be returning to my workshop soon. I hope that that was helpful to you.” But before he could leave, a murmor rippled through the people in the camp. When the two capes looked, they saw Atropos Lanthimos, one of the three Fates, wading through the area, right up to the two of them. She had her blindfold on and her knife twirled dangerously in her hand. “Heyyy,” Atropos said, putting extra emphasis on each of those ys, acknoledging Victor, sure, but putting most of her focus . “A little birdie told me I might find you here. I’d like to talk to you, Burger Man.” “I just said I needed to return to my shop,” Tinker said. Atropos had already been grinning, but it turned into a full on smile at that point. “Oh, perfect! Well, I’ll just follow you there, then, huh?” Her audacity stunned Tinker, to the point that he could only stare -- first at Atropos, then at her knife, then at Victor, as though begging him to say something in his stead. Let Them Believe “Oh!” Dee brightened up immediately. Thessa had clearly keyed onto her special interest within a special interest. “Yeah, the weird stuff!” she said. “So! I said inorganic material can go through the Shimmer, right? That includes these little guys here.” She pulled a lever on her controller and the drones she brought with her began to circle around Thessa and her. “So one day, I loaded up a bunch of sensors onto one of these things, and sent it through. And at first, I was still picking up normal stuff. Atmospheric pressure… temperature… there was a gyroscope on there too, I think. All readings that coresponded to what it was like that day too. But then at a certain point, once I crossed some threshold, all the readings dropped to zero. All at once. Here, I’ll show you.” Dee demonstrated exactly what she had just described. She flew a single drone at a slow, constant speed (“It’ll bounce off if you go too fast, just like a punch, but if you do it right…”) and slipped it right through the Shimmer. One could even see it through the Shimmer’s shifting colors, but it did not take long before the drone disappeared. Dee pointed at her controller, at all the little “-ometers” on it and pushed the drone even further. Again, just like she said… Even though Dee had demonstrated a significant amount of experience with whatever phenomena this was, she still had the grin of a mad scientist on her face. “To answer your question, I don’t know, and I don’t even think I could guess. Like, the obvious answer is that it’s just- that there’s nothing out there. But that can’t be right. I could get the drone back if there was nothing. I’d just-” She pulled back on her controller. No drone came back through the Shimmer. “So there must be something. And whatever it is, it’s real interested in keeping everything in. Or, maybe it just wants to mess with me. Either way, fascinating stuff.” Cognitive Dissonance Arcturus looked a little shaken after the meeting. “I’m not an idiot,” she said, almost like a gut reaction. After composing herself a little, she added, “I wish they didn’t pretend they were just teenagers,” she said. “I mean, they are teenagers, but… Have you seen them when they’re not… like that? I heard the other two killed Caesar, did you know that?” She seemed to realize she still had her phone in her hand, and she used it to offer her contact information to Sibyl. “Since it turns out I am owing you,” she said. “I might be in touch about the Zodiac thing later. Thank you.” Arcturus had already started to hover in the middle of that sentence. By the time she was finished, she was ready to take off. Sibyl was left to her own devices again, which was probably dangerous but nobody had put a stop to her yet. OOC