radio414

It was not every day that a person expressed genuine curiosity at Quinn’s condition, and Quinn took full advantage of Briget’s invitation. He told Bridget about its abduction, how xe was found dead on Mount Coronet, and how only a spirit and Cassiopeia remained. Even when a shorts-wearing Youngster ran up and demanded Quinn battle his brand-new Starly, Quinn’s focus was still mostly focused on her new companion. It was a good thing Normandie was used to fending for herself. “It does not affect my usual day-to-day activities as much as you would expect. I still walk along the material plane. I still consume food for nutrients, although, of course, more spiritual fare is preferred. Oh, use Tackle!” Quinn called out. Normandie hissed and charged right at the Starly, who flapped its wings in an attempt to escape, but by the time it was airborne, it had extra Ratffian weight keeping it down, and the two tumbled to the ground in a pile. Quinn continued, “Perhaps the part that is most odd to me is the occasional reaction I get. People identify me as strange, which is understandable, but when I explain my situation, it only seems to amplify their assessment. I do not see anything strange about it. You said it yourself. Ghost-type Pokemon exist. Can Human ghosts not also exist?” Bridget nodded. “You’ve got a really good point! Tho’, ‘sides yourself, all I’ve ‘eard of ghosts is just rumors. Bet everyone’ll fink this’s just hearsay too when I go back an’ tell ‘em about you.” “I understand,” Quinn said, returning Bridget’s nod. “I do not have a way to prove myself, but I do not have a particular desire for one either. Tail Whip, Normandie, let us make this next hit count!” Normandie was in the middle of dodging the Starly's counterattack but as she ran around the field of battle, she did manage a few cracks with her tail as requested. Quinn said, “Thankfully, I do have other things outside of being a full-time ghost. I have my art. I have this journey.” They broke zir attention completely away from the battlefield and stared at Bridget directly. “What are you besides a Pokémon Professor to-be?” It took a moment for Bridget to respond with anything more than “Hmm, difficult question, that.” She watched the two Pokémon battle even when Quinn did not. She came up with the answer: “A gym battle fan, I suppose. Dunno how the rest of the world handles ‘em, but in Galar they're a big deal. I’d even bet I’m one of the top fans of my hometown’s gym leader.” Quinn widened hir eyes. “Oh, your town has a gymnasium as well? Everyone in Eterna City knows the movements of our gymnasium leader, Gardenia. She is surely the city’s foremost celebrity. Even those who do not follow League movements know Gardenia. And why should they not? Everybody sees the influx of fresh young upstarts. We all want to succeed.” Quinn felt herself get a little melancholy, but ey pressed on anyway. “I want to succeed. What I did not have the opportunity for in life…” But the moment passed quickly. Quinn whipped back around to the battle. The Youngster seemed annoyed and was recalling his Pokémon, but Quinn put a stop to that. “Now, Normandie! Pursuit!” It was amazing how fast the Ratffian could run when she needed to, glowing with that purple aura as she raced forward to catch the Starly before it could fully retreat into its ball, a snarl so loud that even Quinn had to flinch. But Normandie did let up as soon as all could confirm the Starly had fainted. Quinn was glad for that, at least. “Well done, Normandie!” Quinn said, digging through faer bag. “Come get your reward!” The Youngster pouted. “It’s not as fun when you’re just battling a Pokémon. I wanted to banter too,” he said. Only then did Quinn realize just what he had done. “Oh! I apologize. Here, if you go and heal up your Starly we can go again if you like.” The Youngster wanted to sulk instead. Quinn forewent taking any money from the boy, though. It was the least ze could do. All Quinn could do after that was wish the Youngster luck on finding an opponent who would better respect his time and effort. Yet still, Quinn was happy for the victory. E turned back to Bridget, a smile escaping their lips despite her best efforts. “I think it is time for me to go looking for more Pokémon,” Quinn said. They pointed at the statue off in the distance. “I am going to go this way and see what I can find.”

a male clodsire named jimothy

Chris thought about just lurking about the rest of the day until the group’s assigned meeting time, staying out of further trouble as best he could (after all, the more crimes he committed at once, the more likely it was he’d be caught), but Ziun was doing bard things in the Drooling Dragon while he was fetching the mop, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t been spotted already. Plus, the more he thought about preparations for that night, the more he thought about the upcoming dungeon run, and the more he realized he was woefully underequipped without his daggers. Lana had her axes, of course, and Estellise’s light bow had been incredible, but he’d been used to them and he didn’t want to go without. Maybe the shopkeep would sell him out later, but that was a risk he was willing to take. He didn’t want to disappoint every other member of the party because he had already disappointed one. The ones he ended up purchasing felt different in his hands even though the weight was the same as what he was used to, an odd feeling that Chris hoped wouldn’t mean anything when the time came to use them. There wasn’t any time to test them out first, unfortunately. By the time he’d completed the transaction, he was running a little behind to meet up with everybody else. Even when running late, Chris still tried to take as many less-traveled roads as possible. There probably was something to be said for blending in with a crowd, but if the other family that was mad at him tried to start a fight, he didn’t want people getting in the way. When Chris did arrive at the dungeon, everyone else was already there. “Sorry,” Chris said. “Um, it’s a long story. I don’t know if…” He didn’t even want to finish the sentence. Estellise had been their healer on top of everything else. That was something everyone would just have to deal without. Maybe he had disappointed everyone after all. He tried to change the subject. “Did you both sleep okay? What do you think we’ll find down there this time?”

Intermission: Caesar Information Security wasn’t just making sure your enemies didn’t know something. No, in Caesar’s -- ˈkae̯sar, of course -- view, equal importance was placed on what your enemies did know, and knowing what they knew as well. That was what was frustrating about The Fates, for example. Nobody, not even he, knew every detail of how Legion’s power worked. He was happy to exploit it and Legion was happy to oblige, and everyone else was allowed to have a good idea. Only Legion was allowed to know for sure. When that brat grabbed Legion off of one of his officers and the power shorted out, it meant she knew something, and suddenly he, Caesar, leader of the Gibbons, did not, or even know that she knew before that. If they knew something about Legion, they could know something about Project Rubicon. He had been just as careful with that one as with Legion. Even more careful, really. The only people who understood the entire scope of the project were himself and the tinkers putting the finishing touches on it all and only right this moment. Everyone else who ever worked on it was only allowed their own job and nothing else. There were rumors, sure, but he knew they knew those. “Have you heard the machinery they’re running at the edge of town?” “Project Rubicon is the reason for Caesar’s hostility.” “Caesar is working on taking over the stars themselves.” People could not help but talk, even if he mandated otherwise, even under the threat of death. But if The Fates knew what it was… No, this was no time to be paranoid. It technically wasn’t too late for them to do anything about it, but the door was closing rapidly. He was marching into the deepest laboratory in Battle Labs to pick up the final piece right that moment. He had a personal set of guards with him while mercenaries cleared out the rest of the building. The enemy alliance’s strongest were off fighting a proxy battle that was proxying nothing. “How are the intruders at the Casino?” Caesar grumbled into an earpiece. “Leaving now. Pit’s probably irrecoverable but Legion’s still up and running everything,” Tidebinder said. “I suppose you wouldn’t have been able to reach me he wasn’t.” Caesar turned a corner and was coming on the final door now. “You would have found a way,” he said. Legion spoke next. “Arcturus and those mercenaries lost. Ophiuchus is calling for your surrender.” That stupid fucking man with that stupid fucking snake. Caesar could hear his drawn-out voice now. “This is the way things are done.” Sweet Astra, the way things were done was the reason things were the way things were. If he wanted to get anywhere in life, to improve the Gibbons’ (and therefore his) standing, he had to break some rules. He didn’t say anything to Legion because there wasn’t anything worth saying. No response was more powerful than anything else. He turned his attention back to his guards instead. “Clear?” he asked. The guard nodded, and Caesar pushed open the door. There were two Battle Labs employees in the room. Both were on his payroll. They both knew this was coming. “It’s too soon,” one of them blurted out. “The output is within acceptable bounds, but it’s unstable. The matrices-” Caesar flexed his power and took a step forward. “Put it simply. We don’t have all day. There’s a war on, don’t you know?” In a final analysis, with all the cards on the table, it was a weak power. Boosting other people’s abilities was fine and all, but most people did just fine without you. Encouraging people to like him was helpful, but it was inconsistent. People were still fickle when they wanted. He could just have easily been the support of some group, maybe the fifth ranger helping out a solid squad of four. He could have faded into obscurity within the year. His Power -- not his superpower, Power with a capital P -- was more nuanced than that. He didn’t control the largest gang in Scarlet City with that. He did it with people. Understanding and using people was his Power. For example, maybe Arcturus was fuming after losing two battles in the same day, to the same capes, even, if he had to guess the people G3 decided to send over to the Shoe. She wouldn’t accept fault, probably blaming the mercenaries he had hired to go along with her, just as she had when she insisted on revenge after dragging Lucky Cat to safety. “It was her plan, yes, but only she had managed to execute it. It would have gone perfectly,” or something along those lines. But she could be appeased by more tasks, no matter how meaningless they might have meant to his long-term plans. Any tasks, Arcturus believed, proved her worth. For Caesar, she wouldn’t get the opportunity to try and seize someone like the Archangel ever again. This scientist, meanwhile, had simpler levers. They had a job, and he was the client. Money wet most tongues sooner or later, and the Casino had been profitable before Tidebinder had gone and blown up half of it. Failing that, well, his guards could go on the offensive if need be. “If you activate Project Rubicon now, there’s no telling what will happen.” Caesar raised an eyebrow. “But it’s ready? If I activate it, it will run?” “I don’t-” He asked again before the scientist could even finish. “Will it run?” He extended his hand out. There was a look of worry, of fear, in the scientist’s eyes as they looked over to his colleague and partner on this project and back at Caesar. “It will run,” they said. They both said it, even. The second scientist took a small box out from one of the lab cabinets, and from it produced a console. There were all sorts of meters and inputs on it, but the most important feature was the red button covered with a safety hatch. Legion piped in his ear again. “They know something’s happening,” he said. “That group you handled earlier called in more.” This button was a form of power too. In a final analysis, there was still something to be said for a little brute force. Caesar wasted no time taking the console, opening the hatch, and pressing the button down. The River Earthquakes were rare in Scarlet City but they did happen. There were natural ones, yes, noticeable, but not really threatening. Most of the time, though it was the fault of some S-Class villain looking to inflict damage to as much as they could, the earth included. This was no different. Far out west, well into Gibbons Gang territory, underneath some otherwise nondescript warehouse nobody would think twice to look at, the earth shook with a massive force. The warehouse collapsed to the ground, and from the rubble, from underneath the earth, it emerged. It was an automaton, but it was much too big and had too much flesh to be called a robot. It was bipedal, with two arms and a head to match, but to call it humanoid would be too much comparison to a human body. It had a “mouth,” but who dared imagine such a thing eating? Or worse, imagine it talking? And yet, it breathed. Project Rubicon was alive. Ut stood there at the one of the ends of the entire world, surveyed all of Scarlet City, and inhaled. When it exhaled, it produced two things: The first was a screech, a high-pitched whistle that would likely be ear-splitting if experienced up close, and was still audible even as far away as the Shoe arena. The second was a beam, cutting a swath through the western regions of Scarlet City. It only took a few moments for everything the beam touched to ignite into flames. In the aftermath, every open space on Project Rubicon -- mouth, eyes, even joints -- let out belches of steam. It took a step forward. Somewhere in Goodale Park, Director Victor Sekelsky issued the call. “We still need extra hands at Battle Labs -- Caesar’s got to be in there somewhere. And we need capes dealing with whatever the fuck just came out of the ground.” OOC

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there. -Matthew 19:14-15 (NIV)Melissa was surprised when she was asked to reconsider her journey downwards. The option was there, wasn’t it? Why would they have the option if they dissuaded people from using it? And if they were only dissuading her specifically, well, that just opened another host of questions. So, in a moment of self-determination that was becoming more and more common for her (should she be worried about this?), Melissa persisted onwards, downwards one more level into Prana. Teleporting almost felt natural this time. The next level down shocked Melissa, though, in how drastically the city changed. After two levels of urban development, what was supporting it was dirt paths and buildings that could be described as cottages at best. It wasn’t all like that but that certainly was the first impression she got. As she continued, she found the activity lay mostly in two forms. The first was vehicles -- these hovering cart contraptions -- making their way in the direction of a large white-walled central structure. Melissa decided to follow suit in that regard, keeping off to the sides of paths to let the vehicles pass her by. The second form of activity was children. Melissa had seen a few loitering around the shrine when she had exited, but there were many more out and about. Most groups had at least one guardian that she could see, though there were a few wild packs chasing each other about. Part of the way through her trek, one child about waist-height tall crashed right into Melissa’s leg. It hadn’t even been enough to knock either of them over, but the child still looked up at Melissa with eyes that seemed too big for their head, an expression on their face that was a mix of incredulity and regret. “Sowee,” the child said. “It’s alright,” Melissa said. “I’m alright. Are you alright?” But the child heard their parent calling after them and ran off without answering, so she continued onward. When the entrance to the white-walled structure came into view, Melissa saw a secret third type of activity: guards. Several were stationed around the exterior of the building, and the entrance was basically a checkpoint for those trying to get in. Vehicles had to stop and be searched before the entrance, an energy barrier the same size as the rest of the wall, lowered and they could continue onward. Melissa’s curiosity was certainly piqued, but it was tempered a little by the thought of how to actually sate that desire. She wasn’t about to go up to one of the guards and interrupt them in the carrying out of their duties just to ask a silly question. Even the thought made Melissa shrink back a bit. She thought one of them looked her way and retreated back. She just had to ask someone else. She just had to ask someone who looked a bit more accommodating. Melissa retraced her steps back to where someone was supervising a gaggle of children and tried there. “Excuse me,” she said. “Sorry, um, I’m new in town and was just wondering, what is that building?” They followed where Melissa was pointing and identified the building instantaneously. “Ah, that’s the wall around the mines, that is. Not a very pretty thing, but guess it’s prettier than the rest of this place, eh?” It felt weird to be defending a place she had been in for an hour at most, but Melissa still stepped to the plate. “I wouldn’t know if I would go that far,” she said. “I suppose you could think of it as an eyesore, but there are words you could use for this level of Prana that aren’t so bad. Rustic, rural, um, down-to-earth I guess is hyphenated…” Melissa hadn’t meant it as a joke, but they laughed anyway. “Down to earth is right!” It was a quick laugh, though, before their tone got more serious. “But what’s a young lady like yourself want with a place like that, anyway? It’s not very safe, you know. Monsters lurk down there, I hear.” Melissa blushed and looked down at her feet. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll actually be going down there anytime soon,” she said. “I hope not, anyway. I suppose dealing with monsters is technically my business, but that wouldn’t be my decision.” Another unintended joke, apparently. “Some kinda monster slayer, huh? That’s a good one. Really, though, best stay away from that place. The Great Dragon knows we all would if we could.” Melissa thanked them, but she had to be off. That was enough exploring for one day. She knew they weren’t laughing at her, or, at least, they weren’t in a meanspirited way, but needed a break from maintaining herself in the face of it regardless. She went at a brisk pace back towards the temple and the associated teleporters. As she neared the shrine, her stomach began to rumble, and she started to think about food. It at least got her calmed down a little, but now she was wondering what she might have for lunch.

switch pro controller pretty goated in my opinion, but i also have mouse+keyboard, xbox wireless controller (also for pc games), and some old ps3 ones that barely hold a battery charge anymore. oh and i built a fightstick if that counts but i don't use it as often as i should. weirdly nostalgic for the gamecube controller despite never owning a gamecube

You contributed to the first Darkest Dungeon run. That counts for something.

←Previous Post Week Sixty-Four -- Hell is in the Heart Okay so listen, On paper, this is an easy fight. It’s manipulatable in ways that I wouldn’t even call cheese, and the boss is pretty easy in obvious ways even besides that. We’ll get to how and why that is in a moment, but for now, I want to thank you for reading along. I’m sorry again for letting all the air out so close to the end, taking a year off and whatnot, but I want to make it up to you by having this be the best post it can be for this fight. We start with some good news. Not that our money was ever in doubt, but I don’t even need to spend it here. I definitely overpack here. You don’t need half of this stuff, but I couldn’t be bothered to double-check the wiki with an opportunity cost so low. For the record, here is what you should be packing: Bandages and Antivenom, obviously Medicinal Herbs if you remember to cure your debuffs ever Holy Water if you ever remember that Holy Water has a use besides curios Aegis Scales if you have Aegis Scales from the Shieldbreaker DLC and don’t decide that, since they’re so rare you might want to save them for an even better opportunity (Note: This is the final boss. There aren’t many other opportunities, but I know how you all think). Blood if you need blood for your adventurers Everything else -- food, keys, ladanum, shovels -- are useless here. Don’t do what I do unless you also get free stuff the week you decide to do this run. That map in the corner? That’s the entire map of the dungeon. That’s why I didn’t post a map of the dungeon with little annotations like I did for the other Darkest Dungeon fights. There are only five points of interest in the whole dungeon (unless you consider the “putting the cosmic in cosmic horror” background interesting), only one of them requiring preparation. In fairness, it is a lot of preparation. A whole game’s worth of preparation leading up to this moment. Three of the points of interest are the same, so we’re going to go through the odd one out first. Halfway through the hallway is a secret room, with a chest containing no loot but a little message: That’s nice. We’ll hold onto that for luck. The three that are the same are three bits of lore blocking the way. You have to physically interact with all three of these to get past, no ignoring the lore here. In all my terrible researches, what I sought was a glimpse behind the veil, a crumb of cosmic truth... I found it here, and in that moment of brain-blasting realization, I ceased to be a man and became a herald… an avatar of the Crawling Chaos. Life feeds on life. In your petty pursuit of family redemption, you consumed those who rallied to your cause, and in so doing you strengthened the Thing, accelerating the end. This is as it should be. It is why you are here. We are chained here forever, you and I, at the end of the world. Free yourself, rouse the Thing, and embrace the ineffable cosmic hideousness that lives within us all. Darkest Dungeon is not exactly at the forefront of storytelling. That’s not a bad thing -- I think this game is fantastic -- but its storytelling has not been its focus for that. This is a funny ludonarrative touch, though. The Ancestor, posing as still a mortal man, has called in his kin to right his wrongs. However, the bloodshed caused by the slaughter of the adventurers you hire is what fuels the ineffable evil beneath the manor. By playing this game, you are contributing to the end of the world. This is why, on the harder Stygian/Blood Moon difficulties, you only have a set number of deaths allowed before you get a game over. That’s neat. I mean, the game says this even if no adventurers have died yet, but then again, the end of the universe is always going to happen in real life, too, whether people die in it or not. So the existential horror is there all the same. Anyway, the final point of interest is the final boss: Your Ancestor. You still foolishly consider yourself an entity separate from the whole. I know better. And I. will. show you. This is a four-phase boss fight designed to test all four of the major fundamental play patterns this game facilitates. The first phase is a combination of grinding through enemies despite growing stress and limited healing. On the opening round, the Ancestor will summon three Perfect Clones of himself and will continue to refresh these clones as you cleave through them. These clones will stress your adventurers out and inflict bleed on them. The actual Ancestor, meanwhile, only appears to have five hit points, but he is immune to all forms of damage*. *okay technically his debuff resistance is low enough that you can debuff one of his bleed or blight resistances and cheese the fight that way but don’t do this please don’t it’s not worth it. Let’s take a moment to talk about party composition. Some of this was dictated by who was left after the first three rounds, but I knew I wanted Yui the Leper for this fight because of his high damage output, and I figured that Skaia the Bounty Hunter would be a good support for that. He does do bonus damage to Human-type enemies, and the Ancestor is somehow still Human-type, after all. Ren is our status-effect support, dealing bleed where possible, yes, but he also has Chain Gang, an ability that has a decent chance to stun two enemies. ABC is our healer, but can take advantage of Skaia’s marks as well if we decide to use any of those. An important part of the action economy for this phase of the fight is that the new summons the Original Ancestor creates don’t also get to act that turn, so you get a chance to clear them before they can even do any of their nonsense. That’s why Ren’s stun ability is especially useful. It just tilts things even more in your favor. Now, the reason you are fighting through all these copies of Ancestors is that, as the fight goes on, he will occasionally mess up and summon an Imperfect Reflection instead of the normal Perfect ones. These reflections are your opportunity. Each Imperfect Reflection slain deals one damage to your Ancestor. Like I said, he only has five health, so after five Imperfect Reflections, we’re on to Phase Two. The flesh is fluid, it can be changed, reshaped, remade! This phase of the fight tests positional awareness. These Absolute Nothingnesses the Ancestor Summons are impossible to even hit, let alone kill (don’t look up the video, that person ruined their life doing something stupid), and each move the Ancestor makes shuffles him around these obstacles. You have to always be able to hit every row because you don’t know where he’s going to be. Normally, this would be where Yui would struggle. He can only hit half of the enemy formation, after all. But that’s where Skaia’s Come Hither ability comes in, pulling the Ancestor two spaces forward on every hit. The Ancestor has pitiful Move Resistance in this phase of the fight, so he will almost always be in range of Yui’s blade. The pull also marks the Ancestor, which means ABC and Skaia also get to do extra damage to him when they get an opportunity. Anyway, the worst thing the Ancestor can realistically do here is shuffle your party. He gets Yui at one point, sending him all the way to the back of the line, but we have an opportunity coming up to crawl back to the front. The flesh is immortal, it is undying. Pray it does take not too hideous a form. The Gestating Heart phase is as close to a Rest phase as you can expect. The Heart will progress to the final phase in three turns, but if you can clip through all two hundred of its hit points before then, you get a head start. Hitting the Heart even heals you, though it also has a chance to inflict some Blight as it does so. it also has an area-of-effect Blight attack, but that’s negligible at this point as well (you did bring Antivenom with you, right?). Yui in particular can chop through all that health pretty quickly, and so the final phase begins. Behold the heart of the world! Progenitor of life, father and mother, alpha and omega! Our creator… and our destroyer. I love this image of Yui healing stress from killing the Gestating Heart with a critical hit while simultaneously glimpsing the eldritch horror in the center of the world. Maybe he’s just seen it all at this point. Anyway, this fight is a simple race. The Heart deals damage. You deal damage. Who can deal damage faster? That being said, the Heart of Darkness has a pair of tricks up its sleeve. The first trick is this: When it drops below two-thirds health, it uses a special move called Come Unto Your Maker. This is a unique attack. Instead of the monster AI choosing a hero to, uh, Come, it allows the player to choose who is being hit with the attack. The reason for this is that the output of the attack is a dead hero 100% of the time. There is no rolling for Death’s Door. The hero dies. A nice touch is the various reactions the selected adventurers have to being considered. Hovering the mouse over each of your party members causes them to say something. Here are the ones for the heroes that came with us: Yui the Leper: “Spare the others, I am ready.” Skaia the Bounty Hunter: “...hm.” Ren the Wraith: “Do what must be done. My sacrifice will restore the honor I have lost so long ago.” ABC the Arbalest: “Please no, I want to live!” I chose Ren for this. He was useful, and he will be missed, but perhaps his biggest mistake was joining a party with three forum-named characters in it. I do want to keep the forum-goers alive as long as possible, of course. Anyway, the second trick the Heart of Darkness has is that it uses Come Unto Your Maker a second time when it drops below a third of its health. Like I said, this last phase is a damage race, and with only two party members, it’s a race the Arbalest would be middling at at this stage. Also, ABC has the least forum reputation of you three, which is the best and most objective metric for this thing. Never mind that the Arbalest was begging for her life, right? Despite all this, the heroes do have an advantage in the action economy sense. The Heart of Darkness only ever does one move a turn, so between Skaia and Yui both wailing damage numbers in the thirties at it, the Heart folds quickly, the final blow coming from Skaia’s axe. Well, this was a journey. I enjoyed this immensely. It’s nice to play a good video game sometimes, huh? Commiserations to ABC for being the only forum-goer to die. You don’t have to get banned if you don’t want to. There is one final cutscene that plays upon the Heart’s defeat. I know the LP started with a content warning, involving suicide, but what follows is more suicide. Victory… A hollow and ridiculous notion. We are born of this thing, made from it, and we will be returned to it, in time. The great family of man… a profusion of errant flesh! Multiplying, swarming, living, dying… Until the stars align in their inexorable formation and what sleeps is roused once more, to hatch from this fragile shell of earth and rock and bring our inescapable end. So seek solace in a manner befitting your lineage and take up your nugatory vigil, haunted forever by that sickening prose echoing through the infinite blackness of space and time… Ruin has come to our family. Thank you all for reading, -r ←Previous Post

“After that, I looked, and there before me was another beast, one that looked like a leopard. And on its back it had four wings like those of a bird. This beast had four heads, and it was given authority to rule.” -Daniel 7:6 (NIV) Melissa was returning some kind of nodding acknowledgment of a jogger crossing her path when she first heard the jingling of the bell. It had just seemed like background noise, a little embellishment coming from one of the endless stream of buildings. Melissa was pretty used to confines. Even when she wasn’t willingly locking herself in a bathroom stall for a good moment of alone time, she’d spent most of her life in a dome called Ambrosia. Still, even Ambrosia had places of openness to it. You could pretend the sky was real there. Here, though, she couldn’t help but feel a touch of claustrophobia. She was at an intersection deciding which way to wander next when she heard the bell again. The sound was unique enough to be memorable, and clear enough against the monotonous haze to recognize it. Melissa didn’t see anyone when she looked, but she did hear the bell a third time and finally identified the source. There was a cat following her. By the time she noticed that was what it was, the cat had stopped and was now sitting in front of her, looking up. “Oh, hello,” Melissa said, crouching down and offering the back of her hand to the cat. “Aren’t you curious? What’s your name?” The cat nuzzled against Melissa’s hand, though it didn’t purr like she expected a cat might in such a situation. It got closer to her and kept looking up, and Melissa could see that the cat had a collar with a tag on it. The tag didn’t have any more identifying information than a sigil that looked like a ghost, but at least it was something. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. My name’s Melissa,” Melissa said. “Do you live around here? I’m not trespassing in your territory, am I?” It really seemed like the cat was listening to her, even as it wove in and out underneath Melissa’s legs in a figure-eight pattern. Melissa nearly tripped over the shifting weight at her feet but managed to right herself. “I’m just wandering around too,” she said. “Where have you been? Anywhere exciting?” The cat stopped meandering and started trying to climb Melissa’s dress. “Oh! Okay, um, please don’t, um…” Thankfully, someone else came running up. “Ghost, wait,” the woman said in between haggard breaths. “Don’t… climb… on strangers.” Melissa guided Ghost off of herself and back down to the ground. “It’s alright,” she said. “I’d introduced myself, so I guess we aren’t strangers anymore. I take it you’re his?” The woman had regained her breath, but Melissa noticed that she still got quieter talking to her than she had with the cat. “Oh, um, I suppose so. He’s one of the babies from my shop but he hasn’t let anyone take him yet,” she said. The cat, meanwhile, leapt up onto the woman’s shoulder and remained perched there. “Like a cat café?” Melissa asked. “I’ve heard of those, but I’ve never actually been in one, not even back home.” She looked at Ghost, taking in all his features again. “He's a little big to still be a baby. How old is he?” “Oh, no, it’s a pet shop,” the woman said. “Or… a shelter? And also a shop. I’m not really explaining this well.” She looked down at the ground, cheeks flushed. Ghost had to nudge the woman to get her to answer Melissa’s actual question. “He’s ninety-five, so I guess you could say he’s more middle-aged.” Melissa’s eyes widened in spite of herself. “I think the oldest cat I met before I came here was around twenty years old or so,” she said. “You’re a very lucky cat, Ghost. And I’m sorry for assuming.” She had to rush to tack on that last bit, but Melissa thought it was an important one to add. “Really? I guess all cats are different,” the woman said. “Oh, but I should, um, let you get back to your business now. He didn’t rip any of your clothes, did he? I always tell him to be careful…” Melissa checked her dress again for any tears, but the fabric on Prana was impressive enough that she found none. She demonstrated this to the woman and said, “Alright. Oh, but I guess if you run a pet shelter, do you have any advice for raising a Slakoth? I… guess you could say I came into one a few days ago and I think he’s happy with how I’ve set him up, but it never hurts to get more advice, right?” Another extra thought. “I don’t think I got your name?” The Pokémon was unfamiliar to the woman. “Is a Slakoth a sort of slug?” she said before realizing that she hadn’t introduced herself with another set of flushed cheeks. “I’m… I forgot that part. I’m Delilah.” “A… I think it’s a sloth pun.” Melissa tried to find a picture on her watch to show it to Delilah. “I already told Ghost this, but I’m Melissa.” Delilah seemed a bit nervous as she glimpsed Melissa’s watch, but her eyes lit up as soon as she saw the picture. “What an interesting little one,” she said. “Perhaps you could bring him here sometime. I would love to meet an animal I had never seen before.” Just like that, though, whatever confidence Delilah had was gone. She took a few steps back again. “Sorry. I got excited.” “Oh sure, I’m sure Bartleby wouldn’t mind,” Melissa said. She switched her watch over to a map screen. “Just, uh, point out where your shelter shop is and I’ll be sure to come in sometime.” As Delilah sighed and leaned in to do so, Ghost reached out from his perch and booped Melissa on the nose. Melissa couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Alright, well, it was nice to meet you, Delilah and Ghost.” It took a moment for them to actually part ways. They both initially went the same direction, and Melissa feinted like she left something behind as an excuse to turn around and actually say goodbye to the two of them. Still, soon after that, she was alone again. “Well, that was an adventure in itself,” Melissa said. But at the same time, it felt like she had seen all there was to see on this level of Prana, at least for now. She really did mean to turn around, it turned out, go back to the shrine with the teleporters and try something new. “I wonder what the next floor has?”

The thing that wasn’t Carmen (unless Carmen was even more of a weirdo than Brian had estimated) didn’t offer much resistance as Brian pushed into her center of mass. Oh, she struggled as he grabbed her wrists, sure, but one solid push sent Carmen’s legs buckling and she collapsed to the floor. She actually offered less resistance than Brian had expected, and he toppled over her, landing on his stomach by the box of seals. Carmen was quicker to get up than he was, flying to on top of his back to keep him down, though she was light enough that Brian could still stand up with only a bit of effort. Not that that stopped the Carmen thing from thrashing at his back or throttling at his neck or any other sort of move that a child might do when throwing a tantrum. But she wasn’t a child, and Brian knew that. There was no reason to just stand there and take it. Instead, he fell backward on top of her, crushing Carmen against the ground. Brian popped back up and wheeled around, glaring at “Carmen” as she struggled to get back up herself. It wasn’t something he was about to let happen. He snatched another seal out of the box and fell again, this time on top of her. Carmen grabbed wherever she could, but Brian maintained the pin and held the seal up. It seized Brian’s wrists. He could tell the thing was desperate now. But it wasn’t even close to the strongest ghost Brian had wrestled with in even the last forty-eight hours, and he kept his hand moving forward, sticking the Carmen right in the forehead, just as he said he would. Carmen burst into flames. They didn’t hurt even though Brian had been right on top of her, but they sure consumed ghost Carmen right quick, leaving nothing behind. “Fucking dork,” Brian said. “Stupid tricks, can’t put up a fight, can’t even burn right.” Nothing else about the room changed, except that he was alone in it. Part of Brian hoped the Real Carmen was okay, wherever she ended up, but he wouldn’t admit that to himself. Even so, got up, grabbed the box of seals, and went to the door. Surely it would work this time.

Chris did not get too much sleep the night before. He’d hidden out away from the Drooling Dragon for most of it, trying to keep himself away from his known whereabouts for as long as possible, but each late-night minute eroded his willpower, and the comfort of an actual bed was calling to him. He’d sneaked in through his bedroom window to make sure Hector didn’t see him, not that he expected Hector would ever rat him out like that given past experience, or that Hector would be up that late (though his chef might have been up early), but even then, with the contraband book hidden away, with sword tucked underneath the pillow and magic string readied to get out of the way of anything, he still was plagued by wicked dreams. In his dream, he found himself at a crossroads. There was fog all around; he couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction, just enough to know that the paths were there. No other markers were telling him which would lead to his destination; no signposts were pointing the way. On sheer instinct, he turned left and went that way for a little while, but the fog never seemed to clear, and the pathway always seemed the same. He turned around. Maybe right had been the better option. But no matter how far he retreated, he never came to that crossroads again. Before long, the ground opened up underneath him, revealing an ocean of water underneath the world, and he fell right in. When Chris awoke, the undine girl was standing over him. It explained one part of the dream, at least. He groaned and wiped the water off of his face with a blanket. He tried not to make it sound like he was frustrated -- this was actually very convenient for him -- but the absurdity of the wake-up call was not one he could so easily overlook. “E. Llo.” That got him really awake, though. The other times Undine had tried to talk, it had just been water. She was trying now. That had to mean something. “Hi,” Chris said. He rolled out of bed and picked himself up a bit. “Gone through a lot of trouble for you, and I don't just mean how Hector'll make me mop the floor again after you disappear again. It's okay though. I'll be fine.” He retrieved the abjuration book from its hiding place and thumbed through it a bit. “Just to keep you updated, I think I figured out how to dispel this thing you gave me. I can't do magic though, so next step is to find someone who can, who also won't ask questions as to where I got a book of magic I can't use or a... I think it's called a lodestone? I didn't steal that book.” He looked up at her. “I know our communication hasn't been exactly clear, but this is what you want, right?” She began to nod, then paused, and glanced out the window. It didn't seem she was looking at anything in particular though. Just outside in general. When she looked back at Chris there was a pitying expression on her face. “Bi-ger. Dan-ger,” she croaked out. Then she leaned over and coughed up a mess of water. “You don’t have to say anything if it hurts, um.” Chris was quick to react but didn’t really have much to say. This was part of the magic he didn’t look up and he kicked himself for not doing so when he had the chance. “I know there’s danger, though. We- I just angered a second of the ten big families. A full fifth, I think, want my head. I’m doing this dungeon stuff and I saw that kill a person yesterday too. I’m- I’m handling it okay.” Undine stared at Chris, not saying or doing anything before she reached out and placed a hand on his chest. It felt good for some reason, not like how Chris would have expected a normal wet, webbed hand to feel. There was a hum to it, like Estellise’s healing magic, but now he was thinking about Estellise, and he wasn’t a fan of doing that. Undine still wasn’t happy. “M-re. Bi-ger. Dan-ger,” she said. “No-t. Me-nt. Be. He-re.” She coughed up even more water. “Communication still isn’t at its best,” Chris thought. He said, “Okay, well, I mean, I can help with that too. I’ve managed everything else that’s happened in my life so far, right?” It was a stupid joke that just slipped out, but he tried to force a smile. “Docks. Da-rk,” Undine said. The accompanying coughing fit lasted just long enough for her to sink into one of the puddles of water she’d created and vanish, gone from the room. “Docks. Okay,” Chris said, repeating the instructions he remembered them. One more thing for the mental checklist. It was manageable, hopefully. The type of wizard who wouldn’t ask questions about everything else surely wouldn’t ask questions about location or time, right? He would have asked what he’d gotten himself into, but he knew, didn’t he? At least, he was starting to guess. Chris sighed and went downstairs to retrieve Hector’s mop.

Dear YCM Community Members, Destitution does not arrive at our doorstep without warning. It is the culmination of a slowly beaten drum. Today, we on these very forums count the days that YCMaker has dared to abstain from implementing updates; tomorrow, we will live in a constant state of wait, never truly enjoying the fruits of his coding because of the anticipation we let to consume us. When I was a passionate card creator, I awoke each day overflowing with excitement, not about what new feature, what new interface, what new shiny effects might be unveiled— what pulled me out of bed each day was envisioning the cards I would create. The captions, the artwork, the attack-to-defense ratios and wondrous titles were so dreamy that when I awoke I often had to change my sheets. Today we count the days. In my day, we got lost in the hours. Tyranny does not just arrive at our doorstep without our complacency. Neither does the yugiohcardmaker disappear without our complicity. If we continue down the currently trodden path, we risk everything. I ask the yugiohcardmaker community— what is it that we value: facile novelty, or our fundamental craft? I already know in my heart that our community knows the answer to this question. Your deputy, Falling pizza

←Previous Post -- Next Post→ Week Sixty-Four -- The Shrieker Part Two Ahhhh. I gave a list of reasons this blag didn’t update in my announcement post, and they’re a little embarrassing, so I won’t reiterate them here. It is good to be back, though. I find Darkest Dungeon is one of those games that’s pretty easy to come back too. The actual control scheme is a point-and-click affair. The actual mechanics are complex, but the front-facing ones are, put simply, “make their number go down and your number not go down.” I was able to get through this fight without much effort, though I would have liked some actual reward for all that trouble. But we’ll get to that in just a moment. We covered most of the Shrieker mechanics in the last blog post about it. Last time, though, was more a struggle for survival. 16 damage was more of a threat than it is now. I mean, it is still a threat, and the Shrieker gets three threats a turn, but we’ve scaled to match. There’s never a doubt that we can’t survive. But what my screenshots fail to capture (I do not understand my new computer but the screenshots are kind of lame. I’m doing my best with what I’ve got, but it’s something that will not work next week) is that the Shrieker is still annoying. It’s a bird, which means just like real life, it’s got a high DODGE stat, and though I’ve got Sethera on buff duty and some accuracy-boosting relics, it’s able to sidestep at a few key moments is not great. It also has very strong resistances at Champion-level. This is a bleed-focused party composition, and a 95% bleed resistance makes someone like Damian only inflict his premier status effect only half the time. We lost four coin flips over the course of this fight, each of which would have meant an extra fifteen damage getting through. So we don’t kill the Shrieker this time. That’s fine. The goal for quest completion was survival. We just needed our trinkets back, and we got them. We could have gotten some better shrieker quirks than we ended up with if we’d won (Sethera ended up with Corvid’s Appetite, which increases how much food they eat), but all of these heroes had already braved the Darkest Dungeon and come out the other side. This week also gave us an opportunity to make sure my chosen party for the fourth and final run through the Darkest Dungeon is in as tip-top a shape as we can manage. Yui, Skaia, and ABC, which one of you would be most likely to sacrifice yourself for the greater good? Just out of curiosity, I mean. -r ←Previous Post -- Next Post→

What did Quinn look for when looking at the sky for banes or boons of fortune? It would have been difficult for Quinn to enunciate. On some level, fortune-telling was always an intuitive process, an internal question to oneself as it was externally to the world. How was one feeling? Quinn had noticed in their brief time as a ghost that most people assumed that the laws of action and reaction were those of the material. But that was not true. The laws were universal. You had to put energy out into the world to get anything back. The same begat the same. So perhaps Quinn carried the energy from the morning chase and the hospitality of breakfast when xe foresaw the rest of the day going just as well. Quinn and Nathaniel were on the road a ways -- side-by-side, with Cassiopeia on Quinn’s other flank gripping zir hand -- when Quinn’s curiosity got the better of it. “I had to step outside to feed Normandie and Cassiopeia, but you seemed in much better spirits when I returned. What were you and Billy talking about? Or was this simply the mystical power of breaking fast?” Nathaniel gestured to the extra Pokéball on his belt and said, “Wanted to ask him what I should do with this li’l guy. It's a Trapinch, apparently. It has these huge jaws and kinda looks like an armored bug. Billy told me that the trainer it was stolen from should be on the route we're headed to, so I said I’d find them and return it to her.” “Trapinch” sounded familiar. It was probably in a list of Sinnoan Pokémon that Quinn had skimmed once upon a time, but he needed to double-check the Pokédex for it now. “Oh, I see!” Quinn said. “That does look like an interesting Pokémon. We will keep our eyes peeled for anyone who looks like they are missing their precious contraband.” After a moment, hy added, “Hopefully they are not as destructive as that Magmortar was, or as strong of a hugger.” “I can deal with a strong hug. I want to see strong Pokémon.” Nathaniel grinned. “Speaking of, I asked Billy about the rumor he mentioned, too. We gotta explore that marsh area. If there’s a super rare Pokémon there, I want to meet it. It might be the next member of my team!” Quinn looked down at his shoes and thought about laundry again. “Well, I will try to stay out of your way this time. I know you were excited about seeing a Ratffian before I found Normandie and all those Ratatta,” it said. Nathaniel waved the concern away. “There is no such thing as ‘dibs’ on a Pokémon,” he said. “The way I see it, you were the right trainer at the right time for Normandie.” In hindsight, perhaps they had misjudged Nathaniel, Quinn thought. Nathaniel had always been forthright, but Quinn always saw him as struggling against destiny, trying to beat the odds instead of letting the cards fall where they may. Was he not the one obsessed with rare Pokémon? Creatures that needed an extra helping of luck to even find? But no, Nathaniel believed in fate. Maybe it was because he believed in fate that he struggled. It was an idle thought, though, not worth voicing out loud. Even if Quinn wanted to, by the time he reached the end of it, there were already new things to take in. There was a woman just ahead of them on Route One Oh Two, and she was waving them to her as she approached. “‘Scuse me!” she said. “You lot seen any shady individuals ‘round here? ‘Bout so-and-so tall, long red ‘air, jacket wiv a bird on the back, maybe bit of an attitude? ‘E took my Pokémon, and I can't find any leads on the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-- the fug who did it.” Quinn did not answer the question right away, partly because, well, partly because ze needed a moment to parse the woman’s accent, but also because Quinn was shocked at the whims of the universe, dropping everything right into their lap. “What a coincidence,” Quinn said. “Nathaniel and I encountered an egg thief who matched that description this morning. Nathaniel had to tackle him to the ground and got a Pokéball to the face for his trouble.” It felt Cassiopeia tug on their hand and quickly added, “Cassiopeia here was instrumental in slowing the thief down, of course.” Another half-formed thought crossed Quinn’s mind, and this one had more dire consequences, so they felt freer to ask, “Although, what if you are working with that man and are coming after us now looking to resteal the Pokémon away again?” The woman shook her head. “Not at all. I’m the victim! Took my Trapinch, ‘e did!” “Is that so?” Quinn said, eyeing Nathaniel’s belt. “That is the Pokémon Nathaniel told me was in that ball.” Eir gaze drifted upwards, trying to meet Nathaniel’s before returning to the woman. “I suppose the Trapinch would not obey you if you were deceiving us, so perhaps it would be best if you summon it with our supervision. Nathaniel?” Nathaniel handed the Pokéball over and the woman activated it without hesitation. Out sprung that strange orange creature. After a moment to inspect its surroundings, its eyes locked on to the woman’s and it let out a cheerful chattering sound before scurrying over to her side. “Arfur!” the woman said. “You had me worrie- OW!” Arfur the Trapinch had clamped his jaws around the woman’s ankles. “Hey, I missed you too, but don’t chomp my wellies!” the woman said, shaking her leg in a vain attempt to release herself. “I don’t got an extra pair, you know that!” She resorted to wedging Arfur’s jaws open by force, and the Trapinch settled for being scooped up into the woman’s arms and some more excited chirping. The woman said, “Bit of a biter, he is. I really can’t tell you have grateful I am to have ‘im back! If I can do anyfin’ for you lot, just say the word and I’ll do my best.” Quinn could not help but applaud the reunion, the second one they had managed that morning. Gone was whatever darkness and suspicion fae might have had. “Yes! Fate smiles on us this day. I knew the winds were favorable the moment I stepped outside this morning. It is an omen. Are you also on a Pokémon journey? You should come with us.” The woman looked at Nathaniel. “If your friend’s alright wivvat, I’d love to come along! I could actually use a new travelin’ group, if I’m being honest. The last one kind of…” She looked down at Arfur. “…kind of left us here?” “Of course he is alright with that,” Quinn said, now finally getting the gist of the accent. “In another miraculous coincidence, we had to say farewell to a companion of ours this morning as well.” Not that the woman would replace Belladonna, of course, but a third was still welcome. “I will let Nathaniel introduce himself, but as I said before, this is Cassiopeia, my partner and tether. My name is Quinn. I am an artist, fortune teller, new Pokémon trainer, and a ghost!”

If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me. -Psalm 139:8-10 (NIV)Melissa had always been interested in other religions, something her church youth group had indulged her in occasionally, visiting other places of worship and hearing about the various ways groups of people reckoned with the divine. She’d almost called herself omnitheistic once upon a time, before a particularly intense prayer session where she talked herself out of it. It was embarrassing to think about now, but she supposed embarrassment was a signifier of growth. This sort of embarrassment was, anyway. In any case, she had been in the worship chambers for longer than she had anticipated, but she was happy with the experience. It was enough to know she never needed to do it again. She thanked the acolyte again before stepping back out into the hallway, and then the main hallway that led to the teleporter room. It was a curious thing. It had been in the back of her mind during her pious genuflecting, like, she had an analog from back home on Ambrosia for this in, to put it bluntly, normal public transportation, but teleportation was still a new concept to her. Melissa wondered if it was anything like being summoned. Some of it seemed the same. As Melissa entered the large room with all the teleporters in it, she noted that the teleporters themselves were similar to magic circles from Duel Monsters -- Yu-Gi-Oh!, right, that was what they called it here. Melissa vaguely knew the inspiration for all that, but a lot of information was couched in a moral panic she didn’t really understand. Right now, anyway, it was enough that she recognized them at all. There were acolytes here, too. Melissa overheard one of them coaching someone else through the process. “Stand here and try not to move until you reach your desired level,” was the request. Okay, she could do that. She had one worry that she wouldn’t know when to get off. It didn’t matter, she was just wandering, but if she just wanted to go one level down, she wanted the process to feel like something. Like, she didn’t want it to hurt, but if she was a little shocked by it, that was okay, right? Melissa had one other concern, but that was more of an internal matter. She thought to the computers in her head, “You’ll be able to come with me, right?” We worry if we explain how we might accomplish teleportation given proper research and ADMIN’s resources, you might find the process distasteful. Of course, if you ask further, we will tell you. That was a worrisome set of sentences, but Melissa kept that remark to herself. That being said, we managed to cross a multiverse of time and space together, however far these send us is infinitesimal compared to that. She did not really want to ask further. And it was true that she’d somehow handled worse. Melissa was still a bit trepidatious as she let the attendant guide her into the circle, but she followed the instructions as best she could. It turned out, there was a feeling, and it was one Melissa had felt before. Just like when she was in the sanctuary, eyes closed in worship, the teleporters had a tingle to them. That said, the context was different here, so it was a bit uncomfortable now, but it was quick and it was something she was sure she could get used to if she kept using the service. For now, though, she was one level down, and she wanted to see what it was like. Even at the beginning of this particular leg of the adventure, Melissa wondered if someone had a sense of humor about Prana’s layout. From what Melissa had seen, the top layer was the urban center, what with the arena and the mall and the park, everything one might expect from a downtown area. One layer down, then, was the sub-urban. There was a lot more housing here, with the occasional convenience store or other small business. Melissa spotted a pet store and found herself thinking about Bartleby. There was a café nearby and Melissa wondered if Fiona would approve of these ones. She didn’t stop in anything yet, though. For now, Melissa just tried to see what she could see.

I Wish I Was Joking Minos was ready to jump back down but stopped herself. “I know how far down it is so I’d be able to brace, and Override probably has stuff in his suit to help out with the fall, but you don’t have either of those things,” she said to A.V.D.. “So I’m going to carry you.” A.V.D. hesitated. “I can just… I know how to make a…” Their protests were in vain, though. Minos scooped up the renegade and put him on her back. “Too late! Now, you heard him! Let’s go see what we’ve been dealing with!” She jumped into the blackened pit. The black persisted all the way down to the ground. As they landed, they noticed something else. The control room had vinyl flooring on top of reinforced concrete, the same as most other parts of the casino. But the sound when they landed was different here. It was muted, somehow, like the darkness itself was absorbing the sound. Minos tried to say, “Everyone land okay?” but that came out muffled too. “We might have overestimated ourselves here…” A.V.D. said. The voice from before rang out, piercing the veiling darkness. “What’s the matter?” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark.” Minos was undeterred. “She’s at, like, my two o’clock,” she said. “Someone else is behind us- oh that’s you, Avi. Can I call you Avi?” “Please don’t.” “Gotcha. Wait, no, yeah, there is someone else. Two and six.” Again, the woman’s voice was unaffected. She didn’t even seem to notice the chatter. “Well now, let’s see if this second vial Censer gave me works just as well as the first,” she said. Everyone heard the sound of glass breaking, and the fog lifted. There was indeed a woman where Minos had said there would be. Anyone who knew Caesar’s upper circle would recognize her as Tidebinder, She was sitting in an ergonomic office chair, wheeled around from her computer station to face the interlopers, themselves more or less in the center of the control room. Hers was not the only computer, of course. In addition to the three rows of identical workstations, there was also a large screen with several security feeds (many of them destroyed by Override earlier in their attack) broadcasting the whole of the casino. Behind Minos, typing away at a laptop, was Legion. A.V.D. quickly clambered off of Minos’ back but the woman took notice of that. “Well, don’t you all look cute,” she said. “It takes quite a bit of determination to get in here. I’d invite you to sit, but I don’t think your stay will be very long.” “I agree,” Minos said. “We just need to beat you, and then what, a few more mooks before we get to Caesar?” Tidebinder raised an eyebrow. “What makes you believe Caesar is here?” A.V.D. looked back towards Legion and their eyes widened. “We- there was a device to trace Legion’s tracking power…” he said. “Legion’s always been with Caesar.” “Well,” Tidebinder said. “He isn’t now, is he?” People In The Streets Up above in the sky, the two-on-one battle of Cassiopeia versus Arcturus and Albatross was coming to an end as well. The two Gibbons capes were clearly unused to working together, and Cassiopeia had exploited that for all it was worth, dancing between the two, goading one into firing their respective projectile at her and directing it right towards the other, perhaps with a kick to give it either a slight course correction or an extra boost. It had been a battle of attrition, and Cassiopeia had been winning it. Cassiopeia elevated herself above both of her opponents and looked down at both of them. Even from just her position, she seemed to say, “You’ve lost. And though we’ve had our differences, I’m sure if you surrender now we can find agreeable circumstances for you both.” Down below, Aeon’s makeshift javelin piercing the final globule turned the former Quintophyle into a None-o-phyle, and the remaining slime splashed outwards, leaving behind a puddle, any extreme chemical properties of which were rendered inert by the continual shower of water from the sprinkler’s still washing down the tunnel to the field. Countdown was there too, still unconscious and likely to remain so for at least a little while longer. But Aeon was not the only one observing the aftermath of her victory. Another one, the invisible Griffin, walked up behind her. “Damn, that’s crazy,” he said. “Well, tried their best, I guess. Saves me the burden of having to listen to them bicker anymore. Hey, gee gees. Was cool to see a fight in a place like this before Project Rubicon wipes the slate clean on things.” Sibyl loomed over the one remaining globule in her ooze. The upper half of the slime, the part that she had bisected away from the rest, made no motion to attack her flank. It made no motion at all, really, besides reacting to the sprinkler water raining down on it. The half in front of Sibyl, the one with the globule, quivered in place. It was a motion that could just as easily have been mistaken for a symptom of the sprinklers as well, but this one seemed to slow down as the ooze decided on how to act next. The slime hardened up, absorbing the excess water around it as best it could, and maneuvered its globule to the center of its mass. Once centered, the globule started to blink, flashing red light in regular intervals, and beep audibly even through the ooze barrier and the field. The pulsing light and beeping started to increase in frequency, almost like it was a countdown. OOC

it's always spring 2024 somewhere