Zone B -- Forest

[Enel]

The tablet buzzes and I reach into my backpack wearily to grab it. The smooth surface of the Syntech device feels … weird beneath my hands. Makes the tips of my fingers feel numb and tingly.

I look at the announcement.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

We just walked past the drop zone. On the other hand …

Vic clears his throat. “We need to drop into a safehouse quick-like, or … the drops will be irrelevant, God.”

“I know that,” I snarl, half-pacing half-swaying in indecision. Do we go back? Do we carry on? Gahhh!

“Let’s move!” I bark. “We need to get to the safehouse, then back to B9 for that drop! I will not lose another pickup to foolishness!”

That’s right. Fuck sleep deprivation, fuck those other contestants and fuck that giant squawking southbird that’s been following us for the past half hour.

“Fuck you, southbird!” I scream behind us.

Hendy looks mildly perturbed. The southbird caws mockingly.

I do my best to ignore it, and press on. The good news is, I know this path – I’ve been here before. The bad news is, that means I’ve now gone a near full-circle, round the island, without sleeping. I don’t even have the energy to sustain my mantra anymore. If anyone should attack us …

That’s not even my main concern. Hendy … who is he? He doesn’t seem at all tired, and he’s been walking with me this whole time. Is he waiting for me to let my guard down? Is he gonna drink my blood like he did Odin?!

Maybe he’s here to drink the blood of Gods. That would make sense. For a zombie, the blood of a God is probably the best you can get. Which makes mine … like what a pina colada would be right now in this me-forsaken fucking rainforest.

Enel and Harlan go B10 to B12.

[Tamsin Suzaku]

Tamsin could not believe her fortune. Arriving at the beach where the drop was located, she surveyed the area, but could not see a living soul in sight. Despite all the odds, she appeared to have managed to reach the item unchallenged. Not taking such an opportunity for granted, the maid rushed towards the small crate, the elements having taken their toll on its wet and battered exterior. As a result, it was a relatively simple task for the servant to pry it open and claim the prize laying inside.

She found....a mask. The girl was not certain what to make of this discovery. Certainly, a mask could serve as valuable protective gear. But this particular mask was not only damaged, it did not appear to have any means by which it could actually be worn. But the servant did recall that masks have been known to contain mystical properties. She wondered if this was the case here as well.

However, her time for pondering was cut short as the sound of moving water reached her ears. Turning around, she noticed a large wave forming, heading straight for the beach she was standing on.

'Aaaaah!' she reacted and scrambled to move out of its reach. Fortunately for the young woman, her speed was sufficient that she was able to evade the rolling water as it slammed into the sandy area. However, the now exposed crate wasn't as lucky. The torrent of water sent it flying into a nearby boulder, causing it to break with an audible crack, before the debris fell back into the water and got pulled away into the sea.

Panting, Tamsin noticed that her trek to the item had taken so long that the sun was already setting on the island. Realising that she was running out of time if she wanted to reach the safety of one of the safe houses, she proceeded straight back to the jungle despite how exhausting the journey to that place already was.

Tamsin moving from B4 to B3.

[Enel]

I motivate myself with thoughts of what I’m gonna buy with all that winning OM.

I want to restore the full power of my Devil Fruit. As strong as I am, it’s pathetic compared to the full array of my powers. Shit, I could turn incorporeal at will, shock people by touching them and they couldn’t even fight back. I mean, that’s a God power. I dunno what the fuck Old Man Odin was thinking with his spear and slightly-narrowed eyes. I gotta give him the slightly-narrowed eyes because in some countries, that’s considered wise. Like, it makes you look wise. Maybe that’s a power for Norse Gods. I dunno man.

I’m tired.

But right. I’d get that li’l aspect of the old powers back. But I could also do other shit. Like get chopped in half and grin it off because that shit was hilarious, I mean you ever looked a man in the eyes with a genuine smile while your torso was separated from your legs? Because their facial expression is priceless. Or let a man spear you through the torso and take no damage, but they get electrocuted? God, I want to do that to Omni.

In fact, there were pretty much no limits on my body back in my home world. I could become bigger if I wanted, or just make individual body parts as big or small as I liked. I was literally omnipotent. Get with the times, Norse Gods. Ya done got outdid. Modern God, comin’ through.

Ahhh but right now? Right now I’d just enjoy having my full speed and endurance back. That way these next few hundred feet towards the safehouse would be over in a second. As it stands, I have to walk, wait for Hendy, walk some more, and …

Oh. We’re here. That was fast.

I kick the door open. “Honey, I’m hooome!”

Enel and Harlan moving from B12 to SHB

[Tamsin Suzaku]

Though there were still predators lurking in the dark, the incoming night had already turned the forested land into a quieter place than normal. The temperatures had also started to cool down, and the terrain the girl was traversing was much flatter and more sparsely overgrown. As a result, her return trip was turning out to be a much less harrowing affair.

Taking a momentary break under a tree, Tamsin sighed. Reaching into her handy knapsack, she pulled out the prize she had claimed — the white mask. Or at least it had been entirely white at one point, having become dirty and somewhat discoloured since then. Even at a simple glance, it was easy to tell that the object had spent a significant amount of time submerged in water, possibly even before it had been placed in the crate.

The servant gave the covering a closer inspection. By its own merits, the mask did not appear to have any standout features or functions — as far as the girl was able to tell, it was nothing more than mundane sportswear used for protection. But it was certainly an item with its own unique history — a violent one. In addition to the toll it had suffered from the elements, a section of its side was chipped away — the result of an encounter with a sharp instrument.

The more she stared at it with her navy blue eyes, the less comfortable the young woman felt. A chill ran down her spine as she focused on the empty openings for the eyes. She knew that the mask was not being worn, that there was nothing there. And yet, part of her felt like it was watching her, its invisible gaze piercing her to the very core of her being.

Tamsin shook her head quickly and placed the object back in her knapsack. She did not have the time to let her imagination run wild — and imagining who its former owner might have been was not something she wanted to ponder on for too long. Jumping back onto her feet, she resumed her present course.

Tamsin moving from B3 to B11.

[Enel]

I half-fall through the door and prop myself up against a wooden pillar in the rather comfortable-looking shack. “Phew! Wwwhat a walk!”

Victor follows me. “Perhaps you should get some rest, lord, while you’re here.”

I turn my head and see afterimages, like I’m on some great drugs. Hendy looks a little soft around the edges. “You alright, Hendy?”

“God. You need sleep. Rest.” He vibrates for a second. “Maybe it’s because of this world, or the collar restrictions on you. But it would do you good.”

I turn around again. “There’s a black man over there. And a nice girl.”

“Yes.”

“I bet she has pillowy tits.” I take a step forward. Everyone needs a bosom for a pillow, and right now I’d take beaten-up farmhand over another second of looking at Vic’s ugly face.

But Captain Spoilsport grabs me by the shoulder, firmly. Eh!? “You cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Hendy?”

He takes his hand off. “Do what you like.”

“Thhhat’s right!”

I wheel around, but the girl is gone. Instead there’s a terrifying spectre with green eyes and red hair. It’s looking right at me. I hoot softly and decide to go the other way.

“Not that way, Hendy. That way is Nealapph country.”

.

.

.

Something is shaking me.

“God. God.”

I bolt upright. “Whuzuh whuzat?”

“We need to get moving. The pickup drops soon, we’ve got ground to cover. You okay to walk?”

“Y … yeah!” I stand up and blink. The colours of the room mix and swirl a little before coalescing into something vaguely … straight. The lines are still a little wobbly, but I try not to look too closely. I trust in my senses. My headache is still there, but I reach out and try to feel instead of seeing. Give my eyes some rest and let my instincts handle it.

I’ll need all my strength for the fight to come.

Harlan and Enel from SHB to B12

[Gildarts]

It was a most ignominious defeat. But it was not over. There was still plenty of time and items for them to snatch up, despite their solemn silence of loss. There was a mutual, unspoken agreement to win the next one at all costs. Next time.
 
“Wait, don’t we have to go back to the safehouse?” Illidan brought up to Gildarts, something about the collar he distinctly remembered could bring them a swift and timely demise.
 
“For these?” Gildarts held up his bracelet and Illidan did the same, they chinked together like glasses to a cheers. “You’re right, let’s get going.”
 
Gil switched on his map app from Karl’s tablet while the two haggard Primes hobbled around. Illidan, over fifteen thousand years old, and Gildarts, middle-aged. Each lifetime felt like an eternity to them. Funny how a thing like time can be more draining than actual physical fatigue.
 
They were back in the forest. The fresh scent filling the air and then filling their lungs. To Illidan it stank of rank defeat, to Gildarts, well, it smelt like trees. “We should get some food in us when we get to the safehouse,” the mage proclaimed to the sorcerer, who would not call an M.R.E. food in any semblance of the word when he would find out just what it consisted of.
 
“Mage, your back is sliced like ribbons,” Illidan mentioned as he hung back to get a better look at the criss cross of battle scars and fresh slices. It was an informative announcement and one that would result in Gildarts requesting a first-aid stitch up.
 
But it wasn’t even the worst of his wounds, just the one that seemed to burn like acid with every step he took. The skin didn’t have a place to attach and stretch to, so with every step, the scabs that had formed tore with his muscular disposition. Gildarts was weary and thirsty, from his pocket he pulled out a glowing fluid and the bitter taste dribbled past his lips.
 
He felt only slightly rejuvenated. But for him, even a fraction could be made into a whole.
 

Gillidan moving from C5 to B15. Aiming for safehouse. Gil used 1 medi-gel on himself and drank 2 elixirs.

[Tamsin Suzaku]

The cover of the clouds and trees ensured that, even as traces of daylight still remained, the ground level had already become pitch dark. Without visual aids, it was becoming increasingly difficult to navigate the landscape. However, the maid was adamant on relying on pure eyesight for as long as circumstances permitted her. Even behind the concealment of trees, using a light source was risky, increasing the potential of discovery by hostile forces. That was not a wager she was easily willing to make, so for the time being, she pressed on as normal.

Once again, for a brief period of time, the incessant rain subsided. After managing to find a small clearing, the servant took another break from her exhausting trip, leaning on a nearby tree. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes thoughtfully. The mask — even though it had been some time since she had examined it, it still persisted in her mind. Tamsin could not explain it, but there was something deeply unsettling about it, even beyond its seemingly troubled history. She could not help but wonder if this was merely Karl Jak's twisted sense of humour, or if there was something more at play.

Opening her blue eyes once more, the maid was intent on resuming her journey, but was met by an unusual sight.

It was a monkey, its dark fur making it barely visible in the evening dusk. This particular monkey also had a rather unusual feature — it possessed three heads. Yet, even with three different sets of eyes and ears at its disposal, it had failed to take notice of the human girl nearby. All three of its heads were focused on a single object — the delicious banana it had been holding with both of its hands. Inevitably, as it proceeded to peel the skin off the fruit, the heads turned towards one another and started screaming, intent on having the treat for themselves. The hands pulled the banana in different directions, threatening to squeeze it into mush through excessive force. As the row intensified and the shouting became louder, the exotic creature ran off into the depths of the trees, not paying the maid any heed as its audible inner argument continued elsewhere.

Dumbstruck, the maid continued to stare at the point where the monkey had stood mere moments ago. Was that creature real? Or had the mask unnerved her to such an extent that she was beginning to experience illusions? Not intent on finding out which was the case, the servant broke into a run, heading southward.

Tamsin moves from B11 to B13.

[Enel]

What else? That’s right, I need men at my side, big burly men. No homo. Just guys with dials and axes, and maybe Axe Dials, to help me kill Jhen Mohran. I mean, I’m not too proud to say I’d like some help to kill it. Thing’s a force of nature, and in this world, I’m not. I’ve got to play by the rules if I want to beat Omni at his own game.

I stroke my chin, making sure with my senses that Vic is a few paces behind me. The perfect plan would be to employ my own special forces, the Divine Soldiers. Using the cloud dials and jet skis they can ride through the air almost as gracefully as I do. Plus, it looks impressive as shit. Now, Jhen Mohran might have a nasty jump, and sure, he’d probably eat a few of them … but I fancy their chances over any ground forces. They’d work well with me, too.

Of course, I’ll need some big guys. Shit, what was his name … Shura? Yeah, the aviator guy who rode a giant bird. He’d be perfect from my assault on Jhen Mohran. Ohm might be tougher, with his ridiculously-overpowered Iron Cloud sword that he somehow manages to control as though it were part of his own body, but it stands to reason he’d also be more expensive to summon as well. No point summoning an expensive land tank that’s just going to get eaten, right?

Satori, as annoying as he might be sometimes, would be excellent on defense. You need someone annoying on defense, and those exploding bubbles would do just the trick. Of course, I don’t plan on doing much defending. Ganon’s Castle is still standing, but I haven’t been back there in yonks. It’s probably overrun with bandits by now.

No, if everything goes to plan I should be out of here within the next few months.

... That’s what I keep telling myself, but why do I keep getting this feeling in the back of my head? This feeling that Omni is going to be more trouble than I give him credit for? He’s already been many times more difficult to kill than I’d first predicted. I’ve been here months, perhaps years in the context of the illusion, and I still haven’t been able to meet him.

I heard a loud craw. It’s that damned southbird again!

“Bitch, you’re still here?!”

I wheel around and fire a bolt of lightning at it, but it’s gone.

Hendy looks from me to the place I’d just fired at. “What is it?” he asks, somewhere between concern and confusion. “Someone on our tail?”

I lower my arm. “It’s … nothing.”

Enel and Harlan from B12 to B10

[Gildarts]

“Your time is running out, my pretties,” Karl’s voice spoke whether it was from the collar or the tablet in Gildarts’ hand, he couldn’t very well tell. Nor could Gildarts even determine whether or not it was pre-recorded or if it was being spoken in live time. Still. Time drawled on and their pace continued. The Fairy Tail wizard considered sending a tweet to Guu, he’d done it before, but he didn’t want her worrying.
 
Illidan looked keenly over at Gildarts, who was somehow smiling right now. How could this oaf be at all strong? Strength was about commitment, diligence, and ambition. It wasn’t about aloof hope and it wasn’t about smiling until your enemies got so sick of your smirking mug that they left you alone. Illidan knew this all first-hand. His own enemy had been his brother, albeit, not directly. Gildarts would never understand that, no matter what sort of battle that he faced. At least he held strong to his own beliefs.
 
“What are you smiling about?” Illidan growled.
 
Seemed the dark elf was grouchy, or just curious about Gildarts’ personal life. When the wizard turned over to look at Illidan, the sorcerer knew exactly what, though not exactly who by the look in the mage’s eyes. There wasn’t an audible reply. Gildarts was only half smiling too. But Illidan recognized the expression because he still felt the same way, after all these years. “A woman?!”
 
Illidan couldn’t quite be outraged. He’d been in love with the same woman since he was a teen and while Gildarts had fallen for many women since he was a teen. There nothing was quite anything like love.
 
The rain overhead was giving Gildarts and Illidan a much needed shower, the old blood that had dried into the lines of their skin was washing to the ground in a slow, icky trickle. There was a trail of bloody rain behind them, though washing away in the mushy lumps of forest at their feet. Leaves and needles cushioned their steps below and lead them along their way in the dark. Illidan had his… Blindfold thing going on and Gildarts never really used his eyes to take in a scene fully anyway. They wandered along the trail, assumably going in the right direction lead by the Prime with the least sense of direction who held a glowing map in his hands.

Gillidan moving from B15 to safehouse B

[Gildarts]

Finally they had arrived! Then, the small haze of rain turned into a downpour. Gildarts exhaled a breath of relief and Illidan was more pent up than ever. He felt like a caged animal, told to sit in the corner for his sins. For ten-thousand years or closer to eternity.
 
And well, Illidan was a rebel and he’d done his time sitting in a cage. But they did mention rest. And so rest they would have. As well as a good meal. Rest first, though, seemed to be on the agenda for both the weary magic-users. They had to be ready for the next fight.
 
The door opened, this time, the hatch was different than that of the city, vines grew along the outside, it was very… Bunker-y. There were stacks of logs everywhere and while Gildarts thought it quaint, though the oblivious mage never really regarded his surroundings unless in the thick of battle, he noticed that the trees had been chopped by saw and not by the hand of a mage. There was no residual energy and the loggers of this forest had gone just like the city.
 
“Illidan… Do you think something is kind of… Strange about this place?” Gildarts said queerly.
 
“We’re on an insane island hosted by a rich sociopath, watched by peasants of the Omniverse who crave violence and death but not enough to get their fingers dirty for themselves for a change, yeah I’d say it is pretty strange,” Illidan said bitterly. He was still mad about the fight. He didn’t blame anyone, though, only how formidable his competition had been. Only how much more power he needed to grow.
 
“No, Illidan. What I want to know is... Where did they go?” Gildarts said and his voice trailed. The primes’ two sets of feet squished in the sloppy soil as they made their way to a makeshift cover from the rain which did nothing for the sludge that their mucky feet still trudged along in.
 
“Maybe the mortals all died. The city looked pretty abandoned, and that fog monster could be a good reason,” Illidan was warming up to Gildarts again, though being a ‘team player’ was not always in the cards for the Scourge of Darkshire. “It gave you a whirl.”
 
Gildarts smiled as the reflection of his hair looking like that came back to his mind. Good thing no one had been watching… No, not at all, and surely not the implants of cameras everywhere.
 
“It could have been a flood scare, but I don’t see any of the lumberjacks now, and they just left their gear around,” Illidan glared at Gildarts as the Prime picked up a tarp and unveiled a chainsaw as though it were a child’s action-figure.
 
“I think I’ll keep it!” Gildarts said jubilantly as though he was taking home a new puppy and they continued to walk along the trench-like maze of lumber until they neared the clearing of the encampment. He inspected it and it was mostly dry. Likely still functionable. While Gildarts didn’t like using weapons, but there was no denying his magic was POOPED and he could use a little human thingamajig help if they got ambushed again.
Gildarts couldn’t help thinking that without magic, this is a life he could have had...
 
Smoke from the fire filled their nostrils and reminded them just how hungry they were. Their stomach’s squirmed. Gil’s last good meal had been in Ambrosia and Illidan’s well, who knew what and when a dark elf ate anyway.
 
Priorities were priorities and Gildarts fished out he and Illidan’s canteen, filling them both up from the trickle of rainwater that came directly from above and rolled off the makeshift slabs of steel roof in a nice clean stream. Once they were overflowing, Gildarts capped and screwed them.
 
Illidan was still suspicious and watched Gildarts do this, step-by-step, however it felt almost normal for the dark-elf to be served in such a way. Still the wizard had those vials and didn’t offer him one. Were they the key of the wizard’s power or was it something just to keep his throat from getting any more hoarse?
 
While suspicion ladened in his ally’s mind, Gildarts felt his head pounding from exhaustion and yes… Withdrawal.
 
You didn’t think you could get rid of me after one tiny fight, did you? Just because you’re in the zone and can’t be distracted so easily doesn’t mean I can’t reach you during it.
 
Enough! He’d had enough. Get this freaking voice out of his head! The sealed canteens fell to the muddy ground and Gildarts felt something like a jagged dagger running along the confines of his mind. He held onto his temples with more force that could lift a car in the air, begging it to stop. Illidan watched curiously, not offering him a bit of help and assuming this time, it was merely an effect from the telepathic one in the fight. There was nothing to be done, with or without his support.

[Tearen Wover]

After the rude, but not unexpected, interruption from Enel, Tearen and Malon had taken to settling in at the humble accommodations of the logging camp's facilities. It was a small, huddled grouping of temporary structures, built from aluminum and vinyl siding, but they were air conditioned and furnished all the same. More to Tearen's excitement, the mess area still had a few paltry supplies stocked. Granted, it wasn't much aside from canned soup and some dried grains, but a few cups of rice could turn any ragtag assortment of ingredients into something palatable.

Malon was inclined to agree, and the two set to work preparing something that could arguably be called an early dinner. The Shadow found it a wry proposition that, while they were preparing supper with Sage and his little friend, the rest of the island was scurrying around in a frenzy. Each of the Prime's dataverse tablets had been requisitioned to be playing a constant stream of different parts of the island, so the overlapping commentary blended together to form a sort of cozy white noise. A few token spatters of grey rain slapped against the modular building's window before turning into a full-blown deluge.

All the more reason to settle in and decompress for the time being. Despite abiding by the demilitarized mandates of the Zone B safehouse, the Humble Sage and his Little Shadow had made it clear that this was not the start of a burgeoning alliance. He had agreed to hear out Tearen's tale of the Underverse, and intended to make good on that promise, but past that, they were still competing against one another. The Shadow understood this, but did his best to weave a captivating tale all the same as they cooked. A few foraged jungle plants and fragments of beef salvaged from soup cans was served over the rice; simple, but Malon seemed proud of it. In fact, Tearen didn't think he had felt a mind as serene as hers for a long time during the course of their meal preparation.

By the time it was time to sit down, the elder Prime was reaching the conclusion of his story. A Syntech drone bobbed nearby, dutifully recording the bloody tale for the masses.

"...so, with that, Tyrael created some sort of special token, and sent me out of Immortan Joe's Citadel, into the Void. Telling everyone this story is part of that pact I made with him." Tearen said, eagerly tucking into the beef and chutney rice dish. Everyone but him seemed to have a somber disposition, which he supposed was relatable. It was certainly a sobering tale...though in the Little Shadow's case, Tearen could sense that it was because the ebony sprite was displeased with its portion size. Little Ghost looked over at the other three plates that had been made up, but Tearen shook his head woefully.

"Sorry little one; we have more guests coming." Tearen said, casting a glance at his personal tablet, which was set to track the movements of other Primes on the island. He hoped it would just be Gildarts, Tamsin and Illidan. They didn't have enough for more people. Sage chewed a bite thoughtfully before responding.

"A dark and twisted odyssey. I see why you would warn the Omniverse about such peril at the threshold." the older man said slowly. The ex-enigma was eager for further comment, but the chronicler didn't seem to have any more to offer at the moment. Malon piped up.

"So those markings that Grooota gave you...is that what's making your back bleed?" she asked, quietly sipping some water. The Shadow nodded, and eyed the Syntech drone as it buzzed around to get a shot of his back. The elder Prime obligingly lifted his shirt to reveal long, laser-cut scars that seeped and trickled small amounts of blood.

"Yes...and the clincher to all of this is...I doubt I experienced the very worst that the Underverse has to offer." the elder Prime said with a sense of finality. The Humble Sage nodded. Reynold had no doubt that, if the Underverse had given such an august Prime that amount of trouble, the common Omniverse denizen would be without hope, should Diablo's armies return from the black gate. Satisfied, Tearen called his tablet over to an open hand. Several thousand viewers, currently, on his personal DA stream. Whether or not they were paying attention was another matter, but at this point, the Shadow could be sure that he had fulfilled his primary objective in this event. Might as well try to win, now. He sat down again and the quartet of gladiators ate in silence for a time.

"Well then..." Tearen said, standing up and stretching, "...I believe I'm going to have a bit of a nap. Oh, wait..." Tearen said, glancing down at the movement tracker. Gildarts and Illidan had apparently arrived, and were camping in the wood shed, of all places. The ex-god walked over to the rattling door on the modular trailer and called out into the raining blackness.

"Hey Gildarts, Stormrage! We got some hot food here for ya, come and eat before the bug gets it!" he shouted. No immediate reply came, and he closed the door with a shrug. Tearen brushed past the other Primes towards the mangy cots at the back of the trailer, but on his way past, leaned to whisper in Malon's ear.

"Sorry, remind me to tell you you're an immortal Prime when I wake up. Thanks!"

And then the eldritch human slept.

[Gildarts]

It is midnight. Witching hour and hour that Death haunts. Rain crumbled down and rolled over the sides of the overhang he stood beneath. It was spooky and pitch black.
 
And his triumphant enemy had howled at him, it tasted like a taunt in his mind, churning there, waiting not for the tides of time to change, but for his fatigued muscles to strike. Just how could he be here? Course, it wasn’t hard to think about it, the one called Tearen needed to get to a safehouse too, for his device too was sure to pop, same as theirs.
 
Illidan however, found the offer of late dinner with his enemies insulting. Yet, somehow they’d all wound up here. Tearen, the victor, and Illidan, defeated with less than nothing. The truth was vicious as it blasted in his mind.
 
Stormrage. It should have been a holy name on the tongue of his enemy, now, it was spoken much like a joke. The fel Prime lunged and found himself held back, he spun around to see who had dared defy him. The dark elf found himself to be chained the crippling grip of Gildarts. The strength was truly nothing to be rivaled with.
 
“Let go.” Illidan commanded.
 
Gildarts let his organic hand sink to the silver shackle on his ally’s wrist, “If you go after him now, that’ll explode. Leave him for now. Rest and eat. Though maybe… Not the food he offered.”
 
“Tch,” Illidan nodded. His prime companion was right, even if he didn’t want to hear it.
 
“I’ll be sleeping with this underneath my pillow,” Gildarts tapped his pet-chainsaw with a happy yet menacing expression. “You can always invite him outside tomorrow should you decide. For now, sleep and you’ll fight better tomorrow.”
 
Wise words came from the mage who had now released his grip on the metallic shackle. Keeping a teammate in-check came with the agreement of an alliance. When Gildarts looked up, he saw that the gang was all there. The older wizard who’d sent a ice enchantment at him, the shapeshifting girl, the little one with the skull. And a few others. Which one had been the “dog” was something Gildarts was still guess. The joke had gone right over his head.
 
Yup, all of them were there. Amicably eating dinner together like a family. This was something Gildarts always valued, the meal at the end of the day shared by friends and family. It was even more heart-warming when it was enemies coming together. It meant to him, that the battle had meant something and that is what he fought for. Change.
 
Illidan wasn’t having it. The challenge still rattled the air as though it had been aimed at his ego. Well, bullseye. It had hit and the elf cringed as his mind grated up against Tearen as though it were metal. Then, the god-mind had disappeared, presumably getting some much needed sleep. Gildarts was about to go there next too, though he’d likely avoid bunking near Nealaphh for reasons mostly based on the shadow’s telepathic connections. Gildarts didn’t need him whispering to her while he slept.
 

Just nervously reiterating Gil and Illidan Moved: from B15 to SHB so as to not explode because I was short the WL on my travel post which I didn't combine with my other post because I am indeed a lazy foo’

[Tamsin Suzaku]

The night had consumed the forest entirely by the time Suzaku once again found herself flanked by rows and rows of tree stumps. And like before, she rushed to cross the fields to minimise her exposure. However, the long trek she had underwent that day had taken its toll on her. Her feet ached from walking across difficult terrain for hours on end, and her head felt painful and heavy from exhaustion. Nevertheless, the maid pushed herself to the limits, knowing that she could only truly rest within the confines of the safe house.

Finally, she reached the logging encampment that she had left earlier that day. She had barely entered its fenced parameter when the signal from her collar informed her that the explosives have once again been deactivated — for the time being, she was safe. Coming to an abrupt halt and nearly falling from the slippery ground, Tamsin braced herself with her knees as she finally allowed herself respite. After standing in the dark for a minute or two, she surveyed the secure area.

Unlike the previous night, there was a buzz coming from the camp. Words, silent or otherwise, could be heard, and there was a light coming from the master building. For the first time since arriving on the island, the maid had the opportunity to meet some of her competition — and in a non-hostile situation. She was not entirely certain if this would make the inevitable conflicts she would have to face harder to deal with, but she was grateful for it all the same.

As the cool night air calmed her down, fatigue began to overcome her muscles. Sighing, she dragged her feet to check if her old bedding was still available. Though she strived to be courteous at all times, the maid was concerned that her weariness would impact her demeanour. She chose to greet them first thing in the morning. For the moment, she opted to wash herself and then rest. The intensity and rage of the event would resume all too quickly — all of them would need the energy to face it.

Tamsin moving from B13 to Safe House B.

[Enel]

I’m aware now that the southbird is part of my imagination. Just an irritating hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation.

CAW!

That doesn’t stop it being annoying.

We’ve back-traced our steps almost exactly, following our footprints back up the island to where we’d emerged from the lowlands. I can barely think about relaxing right now, or letting my guard down, but I need to check. I pull out my Dataverse tablet and scan the official Dante’s Abyss website.

There are a few others in our zone. The dark-skinned guy and the red-headed woman we’d seen in the safe house. A couple of other dudes playing camp back there while we trekked through the dark and sticky rainforest.

Fools. “Whaddatheythink this isj, a canping trip?”

Meanwhile, a couple of other mortals have died. It’s no surprise, half the mortals I’ve met can barely lift a spoon to their own mouths. Probably got bitten by creepy crawlies, fell down a well, or walked into the sea and drowned. Tragic.

But honestly, I’m surprised there aren’t more deaths. Isn’t this supposed to be a murder island? Maybe they’re all so incompetent they can’t even figure out how to kill each other. Yeah, that makes sense. But it is tiresome, having to do everything myself.

Oh well. They can sit in their safehouses and treat this like a game. I fully intend to win, even if it means I’ve got to give up a bit of sleep.

I trip and nearly go headfirst into a tree. My mantra doesn’t do so well about warning me of passive dangers like that. I need to be careful not to overdo it. As soon as this is over, as soon as we grab that drop, I’m getting some sleep.

We clamber up a hill to where we can see the sky clearly, and sense any incoming drops. It might be night-time, but the humidity is a bastard and I’m still covered in sweat. I want to sleep, but I don’t trust Hendy anymore. I never particularly trusted him to begin with – mortals are all so easily tempted into sin. But I get the distinct feeling that he is not the simple paragon he’s been presenting himself as.

Without speaking a word, I rise to the top of the nearby palm tree.

Moving from B10 to B9. Awaiting Item drop.

[Karl Jak]

End Day 2

Start Day 3 -- Early Morning (12 am to 6 am)

It is now raining.  Everywhere on the island.  Enjoy.

This phase ends at 430 CDT tomorrow, the 23rd of June

[Gildarts]

It felt like nothing but the brush of a brief nap, but he had slept with her underneath the warmth of the covers.
 
Yes, she was carefully mounted under his hand, and Gildarts wasn’t quite sure how to turn her on, but when the time was right, he’d make it work. Her name was written in big azure letters along the side of her in a curvy but unmistakable tattoo. “Husqvarna,” foreign, exotic, just how he liked them. Her body was made of steel and could cut through solid objects. They had so much in common.
 
Her laugh was a tickle in her engine and she reeked like gasoline but she’d be a useful protector, maybe if Gil was desperate enough, he’d use her to help make breakfast. Though, a bowl of Abandoned Lumberyard Bark Mulch-O’s didn’t seem very appetizing. What if the tree’s were poisonous, emitting a toxic gas?
 
That thought caused Gildarts to spring up and then recoil at the pain he’d taken from his last fight. He cringed and felt the bitterness of pain bore down on him. He looked to his left and saw Illidan in another cot, though he couldn’t determine if he was sleeping, though his breaths appeared to be regular enough.
 
With hope, maybe the chainsaw’s presence (or roar) would even silence the Malefactor’s words which were as loud as sirens in his head. If Gildarts got desperate, he could shove wood-shavings in his ears, but that would only make things very… grossly… itchy.
 
Dawn’s twinkling, still dim light shone through the cracks in the worn, aged woodwork. Gil, if he knew what termites were, would likely had feared little tickling nibbles on his toes from them or any other insect that would call this den of wood their home.
 
Husqvarna fit in his hand perfectly when he went to grab for her. He felt better with her in his arms, not that she was a claimed possession, but a real thing that wanted to be validated and seen by the world. In Gildarts’ hand and with his resources, he could make that happen for her. She’d be a star, and model, sponsors for advertisements from the best lumberjacks would beg on their knees for Gildarts to take the job, endorsing her and their business of destroying forests for fund.
 
Gildarts wasn’t all about deforestation, he’d done enough of that in his time. The Prime stood up quietly and limped out of the mostly dry room with a slight creeak! from the door. Outside by the fire was a very beautiful woman he’d caught a glimpse at last night, she’d been in a maid’s costume… Or… was she a maid?
 
The Prime was still weary and perched himself on a log while he kept the thoughts of this beautiful woman at bay, and then realized that the thoughts were real. She was now no longer wearing the maid outfit but instead oversized denim overalls over her bra and humming. Nothing showed Tamsin was a respectable woman, but now Gildarts saw where her actual clothes had been strung. Above his head was a black dress hanging dry that he hadn’t noticed previously since it had blended in with the dark.
 
Oh. Gildarts sat Husqvarna down beside his foot and heard Tamsin humming silently to herself. This moment, after the battle was simply bliss, he closed his eyes and listened to her voice. Sure, she was looking great in the denim but Gildarts wasn’t so elated by her beauty he couldn’t enjoy her soul too. It was, after all, the soul that man fell in love with.
 
Then her head turned to the side and her eyes bulged and she jumped mid-mix of the mysterious batter she was cooking.
 
“Oh my, you look dreadful? What happened to you sir?” She said. The humming stopped and Gildarts opened his eyes and the woman had procured a slightly used towel to soak on his back. The wizard still couldn’t tell if this woman was a maid, or just… Out of place. Then he realized she must have worked here before the villagers disappeared.
 
“Uh, actually miss, will you tell me what happened to the villagers here? My wounds are…” Gildarts trailed off as he felt a wince, somehow Tamsin had procured a feasible disinfectant (likely leftover booze diluted with water from the lumberjacks) at the speed of light had abandoned her yet-cooked breakfast and began to tend to his wounds, ripping shards of an old plaid shirt and wondering if she was able to find a needle and sterilize it, if she’d be able to stitch him back together.
 
“The… Villagers? Oh, uh, sorry to disappoint but I’m in this competition too. I couldn’t guess what would make them leave mid-meal,” She said, and that furthered the mystery.
 
“How do you know they left mid-meal?” Gildarts asked, intrigued. This woman was here for Dante’s Abyss too, not left on the island like some long-last clue.
 
“Hold still,” She instructed after holding a needle the the fire and then letting it cool before threading it through his skin as she would a quilt. “Because there was still cups of half-full coffee laying around. I cleaned them! Don’t worry! Now, just let me tie it off and….”
 
Snip!
 
She vanished with the sound of whatever she’d used to slice his thread and the dress that hung overhead had been snatched too. Now Gildarts would be the cute feminine maid cooking breakfast, though he lacked the cute apron to enhance the food’s flavor.

Hopefully everyone liked burnt pancakes.

[Enel]

As the sun drifts up, the item drifts down, and once again I don’t wait for it to drop. I jump up the moment it’s within reach, and snatch it out of the sky before returning to the ground. With Hendy watching, I rip open the package.

“Eh, more worthless junk. Why are we even here?”

Victor seems uncomfortable but says nothing.

“Tch. Let’s head back to the safehouse.”

That’s right. I need sleep, but not with that fucking zombie watching me. I’m convinced now, on edge. I can feel his eyes on my back, assessing me, and I don’t like it.

“The safehouse, my lord? But we just came from there. Why would he head back …?”

I wheel around. “Don’t question me, Hendy! We’re going back to the safehouse, and you can come or you can sit out here. Don’t … forget your place. You’re a peon,” I spit, “And you do as I say.”

My eyes light up in the darkness. Then I turn and begin the long march back. I stumble and trip in the half-light, but my pounding heart keeps me awake and alert. I know I shouldn’t lose my cool – it’s unbecoming of a God. But I’m tired, and it’s affecting my judgement.

Yes … maybe that’s it. Victor is just a man, a foolish man. Maybe he’s a bit more resilient than the rest, but …

NO! The man’s a goddamn zombie! Did you see that, back when he fought Odin?! You saw what you saw! And why, why isn’t he the one tripping over and losing his shit right now?! I’m a God, I should have twice the resilience he does, and yet he’s still on his feet, still walking.

I can’t do this right now. I’m falling apart, I’m losing my mind. I’ve got no energy to debate this.

Enel+Vic moving from B9 to B10.

[Gildarts]

The time at the lumberjack’s camp continued to bore on, Gildarts had bided his free-time while he waited for Illidan to wake up and interacted with some very... Exotic fans on OmniTwitter the mage was explaining via tweet that he did not know that the rainwater would break his Karl-issued (assumed magic) tablet and assuring them that Illidan’s tablet was likely unhindered and safe in his backpack.
 
Technology, who knew you couldn’t let it get even a sprinkle wet?
 
The oblivious prime was also meeting new DA participants and making new friends in the internet world!
 

[float=left][/float]

Gildarts Clive

@futurewarrior And you’re very optimistic for a guy named Graowr #friendsnow #island #fun!

 
While some of his fans called him quite mistakenly “Mr. Robo Arm” and others were “shippers” who had never worked in a shipyard, the time passed as the taste of burnt pancakes lingered on his tongue. The girl who’d stitched him up was still missing and he thought to go and find her but then read some fans tweets on a fight involving a hot maid and had to assume it was the same Prime. Karl’s antics, he left her disappearance up to that and then tried to figure out instead just where the villagers had gone mid-meal, heck, even mid-swig of spiked coffee. Whoever would give that up surely had some grave occurrence to deal with. They had never even returned to finish the rest of their tin-cupped drink. Gildarts recalled the city, desolate, and infested in cloudy fog monsters that took shape whenever there was an invader around. It was curious, strange, and exactly like his last Dante's Abyss. 
 
Not to mention, he’d burnt his steel hand while cooking breakfast because of the sterile rag he’d used to clean out his wounds when Tamsin was gone. Who knew water-diluted liquor was still flammable? Yes, today was one of new discoveries. Such was the curious life of Gildarts Clive.
 
Overall, Gildarts was just waiting to hear from Guu. He’d left her in such a hurry that he felt a bitter flashback of when he’d done that to Cornelia, his ex-wife. And well, she’d dumped him for always ditching her, she’d also died while he was on the road again, spitefully she never told the Fairy Tail wizard of the daughter each of them had left behind. A cruel joke for the father who didn't know he was one. He also didn't know his daughter had just watched his last fight and was waiting for Gildarts to once again, come home.

Gildarts wasn't afraid of getting dumped by Guu, but he did want to ask the princess about the Malefactor and make one hundred percent sure she was in her cage in Ambrosia. He knew he couldn’t let on that it was still here, dwelling inside his mind like a phantom who sang in loud high-pitched frequencies, loud enough to not only break but shatter the fragility of his mind like glass. But he had to know. There was a rustle of sound behind him and Gildarts leapt to his feet, bits of crumbled pancake hanging off his stubble as his hands transformed into fists held up at the source of the sound behind him.

[Enel]

As the dawn rises, I turn once more to let Hendy catch up. This time, I watch closely as he approaches.

In the light of day, his eyes look sallow. His skin pale. The sleep deprivation. It must be. He must have trained hard to show no outward signs of tiredness. To not trip, to not sway … to not …

I feel my blood run cold.

I look at his chest.

Then back up at his face.

He’s closer to me now, and he slows his walk to a stop, fixing his blank eyes upon me, waiting for me to ask the question.

“Are you dead?”

He smiles, and it’s not the smile I’ve grown accustomed to. “Depends on your definition, really.”

He says it like it’s nothing at all. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.” I raise my hand slowly. “You’re a God-damn zombie.”

He drawls. “Vampire.”

“Close enough!”

He makes a ‘pff’ sound. “So what if I am. It doesn’t change who I am, right?”

Heh! “You lied to God.”

“No I didn’t.” His voice is technical. “Did I lie? Did I say ‘I’m not alive, Enel?’”

There’s a moment’s silence between us and he keeps walking. He draws closer to me. I won’t step away. But I watch his hand closely as he extends his, and pats me on the forearm. I shiver at the coldness of his touch, but don’t flinch. I am still God.

“C’mon, buddy. We’ve got a safehouse to get to, right? You look like you’re about to drop dead on your feet. And while I’m just fine, I’d rather you not bite the dust just yet.”

I watch him walk ahead of me. A vampire. I knew they existed, but fuuuck me. I never thought I’d meet one.

What’s more terrifying? He could have drunk my blood at any time. Maybe he still plans to.

I can’t help but shiver, as steely as my constitution is. Some things give even God the willies.

I can see the safehouse just ahead, but it looks very far away from where I’m standing.

Vic and Enel going B10 to B12.

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage sat, deep in thought as he digested the meal the girl had been kind enough to cobble together from their rations. To his left, the little ghost was tearing into the portions that Wover had set aside for Gildarts and his allies. The Mage was not as willing to see past their immediate situation, it seemed. And what of himself and the insect? Just moments ago he had traded blows with the man he now listened to. For now, the scanners were quiet. There was no sign of the newest items, but before the end of this event, one or both of them would have to be dead. But if what Wover had said was accurate, then that was the least of their concerns.

The Sage found himself wishing for a pipe, something to help him think clearly as he weighed what to do with the information he had just been given. The supposedly most dangerous and powerful prime in the Omniverse was simply sitting down there waiting for the whim to strike him? Tearen’s ordeal was a very disturbing story to say the least, but he had to wonder if the former God-mind was making the correct move by using Jak’s publicity to spread his message. The Sage wondered how widespread the outburst Tearen had spouted before the event had been transmitted. Far enough to reach the ears of those it shouldn’t. Indeed, though he doubted that Karl would allow this conversation to be broadcast unedited to the Dataverse, there was little doubt that his story would be found by those that cared enough to look.

“SO.” He said at last, breaking the lull in the conversation, “At best, you have made yourself and those close to you…”  he glanced at the other primes who were sitting at the fire, and seemed to lose his line of thought, “er… prime targets to Diablo’s agents.” And at worst, Diablo won’t do a thing to stop you because he doesn’t even care. He thought, not particularly worried if the God-mind was listening to his thoughts.

“What is your plan, beyond simply shouting into the void? Do you have one?” He glanced at the buzzing syntech drone which hovered ‘unobtrusively’ nearby, “You may wish to explain using more…” Let’s just say discreet methods? He thought, making a sort of clandestine gesture towards the Enigma.

No movement. The Sage continues to be boring in the Safehouse. #sorrynotsorryJak