[F29/PP] Jetpack? Check. [Scouting]

[Oscar 0]

On the brighter side of things, Oscar was feeling more like himself. Whatever lingering effects the brain sucker had on him were slowly working their way out of his system. That was a really dirty trick. He wondered how bad things would have gone if he were in a party. If they'd all been infected. Visions of the scene, of the slaughter and the repast flashed across his mind. Would they all fall under the same spell? Killing and eating one another, with no evidence or explanation as to what happened or where they had gone? Their names would just manifest on the Monument. Would that give people a hint? Would it tell the Frontliners that this place was not to be fucked with? It would have to. An entire scouting party up and dying would be enough to give anyone pause. Like him, they were horny. Not stupid.

Edited Sunday at 04:46 PM by Oscar

[Oscar 0]

He realized that there were probably some people that would be irritated at the fact that he took all of this upon himself. And he also realized that those same people would probably never believe him when he mentioned his brain sucker-induced hallucination. But he knew what he saw, what he felt. A group seeking the next floor would be in incredible danger. And he doubted that there were enough Waldos on this floor to save them from their doom. Or maybe there were. Oscar would fully admit that he had gotten lucky. But he was stronger than your average bear with a wealth of experience. Unhinged memelord he may be, but he knew his shit. He was careful - or at least liked to think that he was. A scout running solo, in this case, was several orders of magnitude safer than a full party of four. He'd just have to take his lumps.

Edited Sunday at 04:50 PM by Oscar

[Oscar 0]

Oscar suddenly went sprawling to the ground, his foot having caught on something large and heavy. Another treasure chest. He let out a heavy sigh, realizing that there was a potential for another huge brawl. Despite everything, he felt that he was at the end. Just one more push, just a few more moments of sprinting through the darkness. This floor was surprisingly large. He'd run for minutes straight and still had yet to arrive at his destination. At the speeds he maneuvered, that was an incredible distance. Still, in the distance, he could see the torch lights looming larger. But he couldn't see the lights from where he had come. Clearly that meant that he would soon arrive. What awaited him there? Was it the next piece of the puzzle? Another horrific scene to explain what had happened here? Or would it simply be the door, standing tall and strong - holding silent vigil as if it had been waiting for him?

Spoiler

 

ID: 243624 | LD: 12+15=27
right at the ass end s2g

Running Total: 288/300

 

 

Edited Sunday at 04:54 PM by Oscar

[Oscar 0]

His destination almost snuck up on him. Skidding to another stop, Oscar found himself in a small fishing hamlet. Like the rest of the floor, it was abandoned. Signs hung, half hooked upon the their mounts. They filled the air with a high-pitched squeaking noise as they fluttered precariously in the wind. Doors hung off of their hinges, revealing nothing be inky blackness in the structures they'd once hung from. But there were torches plunged into the ground all around him. Fresh, new. Vibrant. As if someone had only just been here. He walked through the streets, his eyes passing over over-turned boats and spilled barrels with half-decayed fish spilling out onto the streets. The stench was enough to make Oscar cover his nose in disgust. It was almost more disconcerting to see the ruins illuminated so clearly. True, there were few shadows for horrific creatures to make an attack from. But seeing everything so abandoned and rain-drenched only served to highlight the ominous pressure that bore down upon his shoulders.

Spoiler

Opening: 243625 | CD: 8
Looting: 243626 | LD: 13
Fuck dat loot I need speed

 

Edited Sunday at 05:00 PM by Oscar

[Oscar 0]

His investigation turned up little. But surely he wouldn't be pointed in this direction if he wasn't meant to be here. It was slow going. Oscar had to check every awning, every board, every door frame for more of those brain suckers. He found a few, lurking in the corners in wait for a new victim. More than a few had launched themselves at his head. But their trick would only work on Oscar once. And they seemed to have an aversion to fire. At one point, one had lunged at him as he entered a building. With the sudden presence at the center of his vision, Oscar stumbled backwards towards a nearby torch. Whether it was the heat or the light, the creature began to writhe at the last second. Pitched off its trajectory, it missed Oscar by mere inches, instead sailing off into the darkness. Oscar grabbed a torch from the ground.

Edited Sunday at 05:07 PM by Oscar

[Oscar 0]

Whatever the creatures were, they hated the light. He held the torch aloft as he investigated the buildings. Brain suckers cascaded down from the ceiling in response. Some fell into the flame, igniting and falling to the floor like raining meteors. Oscar hadn't realized how infested these buildings were. Like cockroaches, hiding in cracks and corners and crevices. He stepped back outside. Wouldn't the doors be more imposing? Surely they wouldn't be hidden in a small hamlet like this. He looked around and wracked his brain. He thought of that scene of sacrifice. Why would it be shown to him if it wasn't significant? The gears began to turn as he looked out over the streets. The overturned barrels and the rotten, oily mess that splattered against the wooden structures and made the scattered nets and ropes slick with their sickness.

Wait. Fresh torches? Oil. Perhaps he needed to make an offering himself?

Edited Sunday at 05:18 PM by Oscar

[Oscar 0]

If it had been a dark offering that had summoned the storm and these creatures, perhaps one of a different sort would light the way. Oscar grabbed another torch and tossed it into a pile of oil-drenched netting. The smell of rotting fish filled the air as the fire took hold. It burned quickly, engulfing the town and and its structures almost immediately. And he heard it - a chorus of pained screeches that rose up unto the heavens. The town was turned into an inferno, flames rising skyward and lighting up the area. And it spread, igniting a trail of flotsam and debris that moved off in one direction. There was his ticket, Oscar realized. So he took off, moving through the burning hamlet and following the trail of fire. It was meandering and chaotic, moving like a serpent between stones and changing direction quickly with little to no warning.

Edited Sunday at 05:26 PM by Oscar

[Oscar 0]

Someone had left a trail. Wanted to be found. Oscar didn't have time to consider the implications of that. And they really didn't matter. Much as he didn't want to do anything that this floor had wanted him to, he didn't have a voice. The boss needed to be defeated so that they could move on. He would simply have to hope that everyone was prepared for whatever horrors they witnessed. The trail stopped cold at a rock face jutting out of the ground. But there they were. The Doors. 

"Alright, in and out. Quick 5 minute murder adventure," Oscar said as he pushed the doors open. He discarded his torch and stepped into the darkness, relying on his own sight and his own skills to take on whatever awaited him within.
 

It was probably a foolish hope, but if the Labyrinth Guardian turned out to be a blue-haired E-girl with no gag reflex and wasn't attached to an Angler fish, he would be so happy.

Spoiler

ID: 243627 | LD: 10+15

Running Total: 313/300, Labyrinth Guardian Found

 

Edited Sunday at 05:33 PM by Oscar

[Oscar 0]

Thread Summary

69 Nice
Oscar | [Word Count: 10322/10 = 1032.2] * [True Tier: 10] * [Group Factor: 1]* [Exp Bonus: 0.2] (m. slime farm + search bonus) = 12386 EXP, Laurel Wreath: 14057 col                                                                 

Transcript

Spoiler

It was a dark and spooky Halloween Night…

Wait, that wasn’t quite right. 

It was certainly dark and spooky. Torrential rains falling from overhead, the moan and cries of horrors hidden behind the ruined buildings. In the distance, Oscar could hear the sounds of fighting. But he wasn’t at all interested in helping out. It was time to put himself to the test. He had tackled damn near everything the game had to throw at him. From Quest Mobs to… well. Quest Mobs. It was just Quest Mobs. And it was so goddamn boring.

He needed a new challenge.

Something a cut above.

Something Labyrinth Guardian-y…

Eyes on set on the prize, he looked up at the downpour. Droplets of water trapped themselves in his hair, matting his locks to his face. He was surprised at how immediately he was drenched to the bone. But he would dry out. Something about breakneck speeds made for a fantastic wind tunnel.

—

And before any good sprint, it was good form to stretch out. True, he was nothing more than a digital avatar. An amalgamation of ones and zeroes. But instinct was paramount here. And it just felt good to get his body loose and limber before he took off like a bat out of Hell. He was absolutely unperturbed by the horrors arrayed before him. He stepped forward into a deep lunge, feeling the sensations of muscles stretching that were not technically there. Oscar found himself amazed at the attention to detail. It might have been a marvel of technology - a miracle made manifest - if not for the whole death game thing.

Oscar repeated the motion with the opposite leg. As he did, he noticed movement in the distance. Shambling shadows slowly meandering through the ruins. Moving in his direction. But again, it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he was absolutely disinterested.

—

It was around the time that he shifted his focus on attacking the muscles in his lower back that he was able to make out their forms. They invoked the horror of deep waters. Thalassophobia walking upon dry land. Beasts with too many eyes or appendages. Gills and fins and tentacles where they should not be. Despite himself, a shudder went up his spine. Just as the game paid attention to accurately portraying the sensations of stretching muscles, they had spent equal effort making these creatures sufficiently horrifying.

For the first time, Oscar found himself grateful that he was trapped here. The thought alone was disconcerting. He hated it here. He hated his captors. He hated the ever present health bar at his periphery. And yet, the mere sight of these horrific creatures flipped all of that hatred onto its head.

At the end of the day, this was still a game.

They, like him, were nothing more than data stored upon a server.

God he hoped they were just data.

—

There was only one way to find out. He would tackle these creatures in the same manner he tackled everything else he fought. With grit. With determination.

And with the power of God and Anime on his side.

He dropped down into a runner’s start, his gaze fixed straight ahead. The creatures were almost upon him. Reaching. Grabbing. With hook and fin and flipper. He could see the yellows of their eyes. The milky whites of their sclera and those bright yellow irises. All glazed over with a sodden haze, bulging from their myriad sockets. All affixed to him. There was pain in their voices - a rising chorus of anguish that drown out all else due to closeness.

All but the seas and the rain.

One neared him, thin fingers fused to a large flipper. He could see the veins spider webbing through the membranous appendage. Another shudder racked his spine.

The air cracked like a whip as Oscar broke into a sprint. An explosion, wind and debris scattered in all directions from his launching point. Those horrors were sent ass over elbow, fluttering like leaves in the wind. Oscar didn't have a heading. He didn't even know where to start, really. So he did about the only thing he could.
He took a lap.
More than a lap, really. Shooting about the ruined floor like a bat out of hell, the raindrops felt hard as bullets. A ceaseless barrage that wracked him in all directions. He was certain that if he had skin in place of a digital avatar, at these speeds those raindrops would have perforated his body. What a fitting end, that. The man raised in the inner city, dead by his own drive-by. That joke alone was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye. Nope, wait. That was still just rain.

Oscar came to a stop, the sudden cessation of movement sending drops of rain flying from the locks of hair that framed his face. He looked around, peering under ruined, collapsed buildings. He would take off again, the sound of his sudden movements cracking through the air like thunder. In the distance, he heard the din of combat. Players fighting off the unholy hordes. He banked towards that location, ducking under beams and half-collapsed roofs. Best to rule that general area out first. He didn't want to be in the way.

He skidded to a stop next to @Katoka. His hands fell upon her waist and without the slightest of efforts, he plucked her off the ground. He held her over his head and to the side as he scrutinized the ground beneath her feet.

"Whoah, what the fuck are you doing hot dog man?!"

He ignored her, instead examining the ground until he was satisfied. Then, he placed her down on the ground and bolted off again after giving her a soft pat on the head.

His next target was @Lessa. He repeated the same motion that he'd done to Katoka, grabbing her by the waist and quickly hoisting her over his head. This time, his search proved promising. But alas, what he thought was perhaps a gap in an entry way was, instead, just a very long and strangely uniform crack in the stones.

"Didn't you get this out of your system earlier," Lessa asked him.

This time, he beamed up at her with a jovial grin. "For you? Never."

Returning her to her original spot, Oscar took off again. But he quickly came back and delivered copped a feel from behind under her copious amount of belts. "Booty pats~" he said in a sing-song voice before taking off like a bolt once more. Oscar was nothing if not a slave to impulse. And he would find no finer an opportunity than now, when everyone was distracted with the hulking beasts wreaking havoc in the town.

 @Jomei was more observant than most. Either via the cracks of thunder or the chaos Oscar had unleashed by systematically lifting everyone up over his head as if he were searching under jars in his cupboard, the man saw Oscar coming. As he came to a stop, the ginger shifted his feet as if he were merely going to get out of Oscar's way. A nice gesture, but completely ruined the joke.

"You know, if you just ask me, I'll-"

His words died as Oscar jammed a finger in his face. His index finger pressed against Jomei's lips silenced his protestations. His hand moved in small circles, feeling the softness of Jomei's lips. How his deep those green eyes were.

Fuck, Oscar saw was Lessa did. But he couldn't afford to get distracted by a romance that could not be.

As with the others, Oscar took hold of Jomei's hips. Perhaps more tenderly than he intended. As the hot dog man lifted him from the ground, he let out a resigned sigh and just accepted Oscar's antics. Content that there was, in fact, not an entrance to the labyrinth under this absolute specimen of a man, Oscar returned his feet to the ground. His hand moved up, gently caressing Jomei's cheek.

"In another life, perhaps," he said mournfully before taking off again. 

@Arabelle seemed like she was having a rough time. Oscar had to approach with caution. Well, probably should have approached with caution. But our intrepid hero was in too much of a hurry. His hand had scarcely touched her waist when she lashed out, her sword bouncing off of his chest thanks to secret heavy armor. Clearly this was a puzzle to be solved. And it would be solved in the same way he solved everything. Mystery meat cylinders. He reached into his pocket and quickly popped a hot dog into her mouth. While she was reeling from shock or sheer deliciousness, Oscar did what he came to do. He scooped her off the ground and examined the ground under her feet. You never know when someone just falls into a labyrinth. Alas, no dice. So he set her down and gave her a sweet forehead smooch before leaving her confused, blind, and fed.

The obvious next place he needed to check was under the actual monsters themselves. He came to a stop at the Mother of Smiles, lifting her foot and scrutinizing the ground. He wondered why they were all having so much trouble, honestly. Felt like a stiff breeze could bowl over the cosmic horror currently held off balance by Oscar. And the same motion was repeated with The Wanderer, the Beast, and the Father of the Deep. Simply and casually moving them out of the way as if they were inconsequential and searching for a hole hidden beneath them. It would almost seem fitting for them to literally be standing on top of the entrance, warning off anyone trying to find the Labyrinth. But that just made too much sense. So, after sowing more chaos than those entities ever good on their best day, Oscar decided to turn his attention elsewhere.

 Oscar left the battlefield behind him, leaving his friends to handle... whatever it was they were handling. Honestly, all Oscar could tell was that they were fighting some weirdos. He was still thinking about how soft Jomei's lips were. Damn that guy was a sexy beast. And that was saying something, coming from a man who was also a sexy beast. The sweet music they would make together...

He was getting distracted. So much so that he tripped over a Treasure Chest. Falling face first into the mud, Oscar slid to a stop. He looked up, seeing a fat walrus man looking down at him. Why were there so many fat walrus men? Oscar shot to his feet, punting the walrus over the horizon like a football and then turned around to behold his new nemesis. In the distance, he heard some yodeling. That stereotypical middle eastern vocalization you'd hear in the movies. And then then the music started. And the chest began to quake.

"Why do I hear boss music?"

Oscar barely got his sword into his hand before the Mimic moved. Arms popped out of the sides, legs out of the bottoms. Each of its limbs were impossibly swole. It was like the mimic started and ended its day with hundreds of pushups. He wondered what it's diet was. For a second, before he decided that the thing probably got its protein from dumbass adventurers like him. Which was weird because this floor just opened. So there had to be another way. Before Oscar could ask the absolute specimen of a monster of diet tips, it swung at him. Oscar danced out of the way, but the sheer power that came from the creature's attack sent the remnants of an entire house sailing off into the distance. Oscar made a mental note not to get hit by the thing. He wasn't completely sure that he could handle that type of power.

Now that the surprise round was over, Oscar was able to run the ones with the brawler in front of him. He rushed forward, the weapon trailing behind him cutting ebon streaks through the air. He struck fast and hard, aiming to relieve the creature of one of his impossibly muscular arms. His weapon struck true, but didn't make it even a quarter of the way through the bicep before it was stopped short by the steely muscle fibers. The beast flexed, trapping Oscar's sword before swinging with its other hand. But Oscar had trained for such things. He kicked off the ground, spinning up and over the Mimic's shoulder. Its meaty fist missed Oscar by a hair as he vaulted over the Mimic. Using his momentum, he wrenched his weapon free and landed lightly behind the creature. He rose back to his full height and wheeled around, flicking the bright green ichor that coated his blade away.

Oscar lashed out again, targeting the same spot that he had just struck. If he couldn't make a clean cut, he would hack the son of a bitch off. Oscar preferred a certain level of elegance, but he wasn't above getting down and dirty if he had to. And he most certainly had to. Oscar had struck with a force that would leave most normal mobs and even some Quest Bosses reeling. And this thing barely showed any damage. Clearly this was a god among mimics and he wondered if he could make it a familiar. No disrespect to Leeroy and Jenkins, but this thing had theme music. Clearly superior. Dope as fuck. He sliced again, finding his mark and carving that gash in its bicep even deeper. This time, he was able to follow through on the cut. But, unfortunately, the creature's fist connected with his side and sent him flying. For the first time since he could remember, an attack actually hurt.

Oscar landed in a pile of rubble. A ruined bakery, as evidenced by the clay oven in the corner and the rain-drenched sacks of flour. He saw stars, looking up at the dark skies as he attempted to get himself back together. The Mimic, however, had different plans. He saw the creature launch high into the air, the hulking frame spoiling his wonderful view of the rainy day. Then, like a wrestler off the top rope, it headed back towards the earth. Its fist was cocked back as it descended. Oscar vaulted backwards, narrowly dodging the blow itself, but being caught in the cloud of dust and debris. He lashed out blindly, smiling as he felt his weapon catch on flesh. A clean hit from a not-so-clean circumstance. He jumped backwards, wrenching his weapon free and launching himself out of the dust cloud. But as he sailed backwards through the air, he saw the Mimic chasing after him. A menacing presence blasting through walls and doors and houses in an effort to catch his quarry. 

As Oscar descended, there was little he could do to stop what was about to happen. His feet hit the earth. And the Mimic's bicep hit his throat. Blasted backwards, Oscar somersaulted over the ruins, crashing through walls and windows and another fat walrus. Eventually, his backwards momentum gassed itself out and he came to a stop halfway into the base of a statue. A robed man, staff in hand with his hands raised towards the heavens began to teeter precariously. And then it pitched forward, directly towards Oscar. He scarcely had time to blink the stars from his eyes before he had to dive to safety to keep from being crushed under several tons of stone. Thankfully, the property damage gave the mimic pause. Which gave Oscar time to catch his breath. He couldn't remember fighting a mob so difficult. Not even at the his lowest level. Not even then had he taken on such a challenge.

The cloud of dust billowed out around him and Oscar had a choice to make. He could rush in, try to put up some semblance of an offensive. Or he could take a second and get his bearings. He was already on the back foot. The statue falling had forced distance between them. Both were blinded. Both couldn't see the other. The best bet was to wait for the smoke to clear. Deny the Mimic the thundering momentum that it had managed to gather. Oscar didn't see a win if he just kept up the pressure. There was no pressure to keep up. It was almost embarrassing to be put into such a position by a treasure chest with legs. It didn't bode well if this was the first real attempt he made at finding the Boss Door. If he couldn't make it past this, what horrors awaited them behind that door?

Slowly but surely the dust began to clear. He could make out the silhouette of the brute from within the gray. It was clear that it hadn't found him yet. Just the moment Oscar had been waiting for. He dashed forward, weapon carving a wide arc through the air as he struck the beast with all the force that he could muster. Pinpoint precision and a lucky critical hit did several things. It removed the damaged limb from the mimic. The thick, meaty arm fell to the ground with a wet smack. His weapon's enhancements activated, restoring the health that he had lost. Taking a beat had been the correct call. With a single attack, Oscar had completely reversed his fortunes. It highlighted the difference between Player and NPC. No matter how powerful, the Player could always think. The NPCs only knew how to attack. And that's why the Players would eventually win this death game.

Oscar pressed his advantage. He reversed his grip on his sword, driving the pommel of his weapon between the Mimic's eyes in a stunning strike. It staggered backwards, sole remaining arm flailing as it reeled from the blow. Oscar swept its feet, sending it crashing into the mud. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating this creature again. Any good thought, any positive impression had burned up in the fires of combat. It had established itself as a creature to be taken seriously. And if that were the case, Oscar would take it seriously. With the same laser focus and brutal efficiency that he used to deal with Player Killers, he would not give another inch to this thing. No matter how immaculate its physique was. He readjusted his grip, slicing off a leg in quick order. The only tragic thing, the only regret Oscar had, was that there was no one here to witness his brutality.

The Mimic had finally found its bearings. It jolted forward, only for Oscar to stamp it back into the mud. Its fist surged forward, but Oscar parried it with the flat of his blade. His riposte removed the offending limb, leaving it oozing green blood into the rain soaked ground. He struck again. And again. His weapon perforated the creature's one remaining limb, carved gashes into its wooden torso. Oscar had the advantage now. And he would keep pressing it. There was not a single creature he feared. There was not a single mob that would get the better of him. He'd made that promise a long time ago. He was merely upholding the covenant he made to himself. His weapon was slick with rain, his blade almost tinged green from the gruesome display he put on for only the old ones to see. Let them see. They would be next.

Oscar kept up the pressure. The beating would continue until morale improved. Oscar's morale. The mimic's didn't matter. Oscar was oddly gleeful, watching the creature's health bar drain. Chunks sliced out of both the Mimic and that red bar that had just dipped into the red. It was almost cathartic. Okay. Not almost. It was definitely cathartic. Oscar had to admit, the Mimic had almost gotten the better of him. Almost. He'd taken more damage from this singular creature than he had in a handful of Boss Raids. Perhaps this creature was the Labyrinth Guardian all along. The lone enemy standing between him and the boss door. This Floor didn't follow the rules. For all he knew, the Labyrinth Guardian was just a random encounter in the field. And what an encounter it was. A shame that it wound up being just like the rest. One hit away from dying with Oscar at full health. 

 This was it. The final hit. Oscar wanted to find something to say. Something that would let him vent all of this pent-up anger and rage and frustration into the air. Get it out of his system so he could return his focus to the task at hand. But only one thing came to mind. And being as it was a treasure chest with arms and legs, it was shockingly appropriate.

"RUN THOSE FUCKING POCKETS!"

His weapon came down like an executioner's blade. The katana sunk deep into the wooden frame, starting at the top of the lid and bisecting the creature completely. It shuddered, it flickered. And then, finally shattered into a thousand glass-like fragments. The music had stopped - a shame, that. But a not-insignificant sum of Col was added to his inventory. It would have almost been worthwhile, did the fight not drag on as it did. Oscar flopped back onto the now empty statue plinth, leaning forward as he attempted to catch his breath. 

 That had been excessive. If he knew Mimics had hands like that, he would have maybe thought to bring a friend or two. Speaking of friends, while Oscar took a moment to catch his breath he decided he wanted to pester someone. At least to have something other than that damned Mimic to think about. He swiped open his menu and went down his contacts. He knew she was busy, but so was he. 

    To @Lessa

    If I manage to find this Labyrinth by myself, can I get a dinner date?

He hit send and drummed his fingers on his knees, waiting for her response. He was soaked and probably would have been cold if not for his <<Survival>> skill. But this was a marathon, not a sprint. And after that fight, it was apparent that he should take his time. So as much as he wanted to keep going, he held himself back. Didn't want to pick another fight with low energy. 

The chime came quicker than he expected it to. Oscar opened his menu again, reading the response Lessa had sent. She was a real one, private messaging people in the middle of a fight.

 

    From Lessa:

    In the spirit of clearing the castle and getting out of here, yes, you can use me for motivation. I'll take one for the team and suffer through a free dinner with you. Mother Teresa, at it again.

Oscar's nostrils flared as he exhaled a silent laugh. His fingers danced over the keyboard that hovered off to the side of the window. There was a whooshing sound as he sent off his reply:

 

    To Lessa:

    Mother Teresa and use don't belong in this context.

 

Oscar looked around, noticing that one of the hands from the statue had been left on the ground. He picked it up, turning it over and examining it closely. Never knew what could give you a hint, after all.
 

Oscar was swapping his gear around when Lessa's reply came in. He quickly finished removing his ring and pulling on his <<Gloves of Caerus>> before opening the menu and reading her message.

 

    From Lessa: True, but we've never been traditional.

 

She had him there. The two of them were anything but. Friends then frenemies then wanting to jump each others bones had been a hell of a roller coaster ride. Even now, there was a certain tension. Not that Oscar would ever do anything about it. She was totally into Jomei and Oscar definitely could see why. He was into Jomei. The man was a damn sexual icon. She better hope they stuck together. Oscar would be spoiled for choice if they ever split. Another chime came in, and Oscar couldn't help himself but to chuckle when he read the message:

From Lessa:

And no hot dogs. I want fancy.

To Lessa: Fancy like Applebee's?
 

She had set him up and, in his opinion, he had knocked it right out of the park. He was happy though, that whatever awkwardness that came in the aftermath of their very vivid duel had all but evaporated. He almost closed his menu, but then thought better of it, quickly typing out another message that would come on the heels of the first.

        To Lessa: I got you, though. And if could hook me up with one of your hot friends, I would really appreciate it. I'm way too undersexed for this nonsense. 

Perhaps the biggest mistake he made was not getting laid before he set off on this grand adventure. A decision that he was clearly suffering from making. There were no shortage of sneaky links about the floor and he could have hit someone up beforehand. Cordelia had fallen into this nasty habit of disappearing and reappearing and, quite frankly, it left Oscar wanting.

Oscar had become accustomed to doing things such as this solo. Whether it be questing or grinding or whatever else he felt the need to do, he was always alone. As such, he had found many ways to entertain himself. Like twiddling his thumbs while he waited to heal up or twiddling his thumbs while he waited for his energy to restore. So much twiddling of thumbs, actually. So it was nice to actually have some connection to "civilization" while he was so far afield. Kinda made the hum-drum nonsense go by a whole hell of a lot faster. Or, if not faster, certainly more entertaining. He heard another chime as he was lifting a wet rock off of the ground. Probably a foolish thing to do given the fact that the thing was barely larger than his foot. But he'd never hunted down a Labyrinth again. Maybe he was supposed to excavate it?
 "Ha!"
    Oscar's exclamation attracted the attention of several of the shambling horrors that seemed to be hiding around every corner. As they began to shuffle towards him, Oscar opened his menu completely unbothered by their presence.
    
        

            
                To Lessa:
                 
                 I don't think that you, nor I, have fucked recently enough to be able to say that with any confidence.         
    
    His message was sent off with a whoosh. And it was a similar, stronger whoosh as he broke off into a sprint. The turbulence generated from his sudden launch sent the shambling masses flying in all directions. As he ran, messages flew past his vision.

                From Lessa:             
                Now I'm hungry.            
    Pause. He skidded to a stop   
                From Lessa:            
                For an Oreo shake.             
    "Aw, lame," Oscar said. He'd fully intended to put a pin in this hunt.
                    From Lessa:           
                Just so we're clear.        
    Oh they were clear as crystal. And so very disappointed.


Oscar's next destination was the ocean. It seemed odd to think that he would find an entire Labyrinth under the beach but this entire floor was odd. Flotsam and ruined planks littered the sands. The ebb and flow of the waves brought ever more debris ashore. In the distance, standing like a monolith against the pitch black skyline was a lighthouse. He knew it to be so because every time a bolt of lightning split across the sky, the white and red tower was illuminated for just a brief moment. He had to wonder if the unlit tower was the reason for all of the wreckage. How long ago had it gone dark? It was certainly a surprise. Oscar slowly lifted the broken mast of a ship, looking up as its ruined sail danced in the winds. All at once, he got the impression that this wasn't how the Floor was supposed to be.
One could say that of course, with there being one hundred floors, that the odd handful or two would not follow the same conventions as the others. But near as he could tell, from the moment they set foot in the floor, there was no Sanctuary. No Safe Zone. His comrades had been immediately beset by mobs as soon as they began their exploration. And it was odd. It wasn't something that, at least as far as he could remember, they had ever had to deal with. One could not say that Cardinal wasn't fair. The opposite was true. Cardinal was fair and lethal in equal measure. It was a massive departure from the norm for Cardinal to not provide at least the most bare reprieve to the battle-weary Players who had just hours prior defeated the most powerful foe they'd faced yet. And he simply couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong about this Floor.
Not glitched. It didn't strike him the same as the spiders with pockets or Sundered Spire. It didn't seem bugged. Everything about the Floor seemed like it had been made intentionally by the System. But the departure from the norm was a giveaway. The lack of some measure of safety as the Frontliners pressed on was glaring. It was almost safer, in his opinion, to simply push through the Floor. To not give it a moment's purchase in your mind. To leave it dead and buried and forgotten. A meaningless footnote in their long struggle. Was this how it was to be as they began to put the first third of the Floors behind them? Pushing from one floor to the next simply because conditions on the Floor itself were wrong? Oscar found himself wondering what had happened. So lost was he in his thought that his grip slipped on the mast he was holding, sending it crashing down and breaking in two upon his head.
"Owww," he said as he rubbed the top of his head. His temper flared, as it does when you stub your toe accidentally. Just a moment of blind, undirected rage. The desire to want to hit something. Break something. One that subsided as the throbbing mellowed out. White-hot to red-hot and back to cool. He took a ragged breath and surveyed his surroundings once more. Still depressing. Still rainy. Though he would count his blessings that the rains still fell unending. The cool droplets upon his scalp helped to soothe the hurt and dull the throbbing ache. He fought back the wave of nausea that always accompanied a bonk on the noggin, letting it pass with a heavy exhale. Then, he blinked away the stars that danced across his vision. The bursts of dull, indescribable color that floated across soon began to fade. It all left him with a headache.
And that was a first. A headache. Oscar had grown accustomed to not needing to deal with maladies of the flesh. No aching limbs or sore backs. A mercy that Cardinal afforded them. They didn't get fatigued. Their bodies didn't ache. And they most certainly didn't get headaches. He realized then that the mast falling upon his head seemed to have overrode any pain inhibitors Cardinal had in place. He remembered as well that during his fight with the Mimic, the blows he'd sustained had actually hurt. And maybe it was his lack of familiarity with Scouting. Maybe this was simply par for the course. He was sticking his neck out in a big way, after all. But there was some part of him that really doubted that. Surely he would have heard stories that the traps and dangers actually had the ability to cause pain. That information would have been shared around, at least as a cautionary tale, to anyone with any ambition.

It only served to highlight how wrong this place felt. As Oscar made that connection, the understanding washed over him. An oppressive, crushing wave of understanding. He was convinced that perhaps this was a place that shouldn't be. Clarity and focus had forced him to pay close attention to it all. To take in things that he might have otherwise missed or ignored. Irrelevancies that he would simply naturally filter out had now had a light shone upon them. Placed on display for all the world to see. Or, at the very least, for Oscar to see. He continued walking pushing through that ominous haze with grit teeth. If he had any sense, he would have done an about face and come back the way that he had came. But he was in too deep - and he had to know. If not for his own benefit, but for the benefit of everyone else waiting for him to find their way.

His feet carried him back towards the town. A Labyrinth would not be buried under the beach. He realized that the further he got away from those black waters, the less those *thoughts* intruded upon him. It was as if the waves themselves sang a silent dirge. One that pushed those too near closer to the precipice of madness. He came across a bridge. A high-arched, wooden thing that had somehow survived the ruination that had visited the town. As his feet stepped upon the wooden boards, he peered over the edge into the water. He found himself gripped by a sudden impulse to flee. And another impulse to drink deep of the black wellspring only a few feet below him. Like standing on an edge of a cliff, the urge to run tangled with the call to simply partake of the darkness. His mouth, his throat, were suddenly dry. Instantly prickly.
He was being stupid. What harm could some digital water do? So long as it wasn't deep enough that he couldn't touch the bottom, he'd be quite alright. Certainly there was no death plane in this small stream? He crossed to the other side of the bridge, kneeling down at the bank. He reached toward the water, hands together so as to scoop some of the liquid and bring it to his lips. His fingertips had almost touched the surface when roiling pain spiked through his head. Like a white-hot knife, hit assailed him. He reeled backward, kicking away from the stream as he clutched his head. Distance, it seemed, was the solution. As he scooted away from the stream, the pain subsided. Only somewhat. Just enough for him to keep moving, but not enough for him to do so comfortably. He checked his HUD, searching for some hidden status affliction. He didn't know to be relieved or concerned when he found nothing.
Oscar took a steadying breath. The stars in his vision were worse than the last time. It took a moment of conscious effort to will them away. Whatever was going on, he was certain it had something to do with the water. Not the rain. But the ocean and the saltwater streams that ran through the town like veins. There was something there. Something that should not be. Oscar had never, not once, been wound in by any sort of illusion.
Wait.
That wasn't entirely true. He had only just been afflicted by Callisto. Halls of Madness had put him under its spell. Was that meant to be a warning? And how would a creature so far removed from the Floor be affected by it?
Gravity.
The answer came upon him suddenly, a word of clarity amidst the storm of chaos in his mind. Floor 28 was below Floor 29. Was whatever that afflicted this Floor escaping its confines?
Oscar sat down upon a what used to be the front stoop of a house to think. He needed to gather his thoughts. They were too splintered, fractals that continued to split apart infinitely. Each new experience upon the Floor - every new horror - splitting further. Winding like roots from his mind, choking and blocking and denying light to the rational parts of his brain. Oscar had not remembered a time where it had been so difficult to simply formulate a thought. But here he was, trying to take stock of the situation. But every time he sought to order it, everything slipped through his grasp. It was like trying to grip sand. No matter how much that he tried to claw or scrape, it all filtered through the gaps between his fingers. But there was some small hope. It did not all leave. Stuck fast in his palms, small amounts remained trapped. Difficult as it was, he could build something.
He had to build something. Oscar felt it in his bones. He had not lost sight of his goal of finding the boss. That was good. He willed himself to work backwards. He could take stock of what he knew.
First the town.
By the structures, it looked to be just like any other Safe Zone in the game. The buildings, while they were still standing, would have been idyllic. Quaint.
A flash of lightning shot across the sky, illuminating the area around him.
For a split second, the light brought clarity. A vision of what used to be. Or a lie meant to confuse him. Either way, he saw the place as it was. Buildings still standing. Shops and inns and taverns with NPCs milling about as villagers. The vision faded about as quickly as the lightning had streaked across the sky. Present overrode the past as the darkness descended upon him once more.
Then what happened? If the town was peaceful, surely something had occurred to reduce it to this state. It wasn't a massive leap in logic to assume that the half-human monstrosities that stalked the ruins were once the NPCs placed to give the place life. Lightning flashed again. Another vision. This time of visitors. Strangers. Long coats and wide-brimmed hats. White finery reminiscent of clergy. Each with wicked, serrated weapons at their hips or lashed over their backs. It was an odd sight, to be sure. These strangers in their dark cloth masks, the brass headpieces that covered the eyes of the clergy. The filigree strangely reminiscent of eyes themselves. All juxtaposed by the wicked implements they carried. To call them weapons would be far too elegant for their design. They were saws. And cleavers. Meant to rend flesh and turn a battle into a gruesome festival of blood and gore.
The villagers had seemed nervous at their appearance. But as Oscar beheld the scene that played out in front of him, it hardly seemed scripted. Those strangers had the same strange aura that had inflicted the entire Floor. A certain *wrongness* about them. The light faded, casting Oscar back into the darkness. The sound of the rain once more dominated his senses. It came down in sheets, seeming to grow in intensity as the visions progressed. He looked over to his right, his eyes falling upon the end of a gutter. It was angled downward, water cascading through the half-piping to the ground. But at the end, he could see water dripping slowly. Rhythmically.
Drip.
Drop.
Each droplet was strangely louder than the sheets of rain falling all around him. Almost loud enough to make him flinch as they splashed to the ground. 
Drip.
Drop.
It was in his head now. Loud and unyielding, forcing out all other thought.
Lightning flashed again. He was back on the beach, that same drip drop thundering through his mind. He saw it then. The strange, gelatinous, almost translucent mass that shambled onto the beach from the water. And he saw the torches that appeared in the dark of the night. The dozens of flickering flames that ignited from the border of the town. That encircled the strange creature that had appeared on the beach. That glinted in the steel of those grotesque implements. And he heard the spilling of blood, the tearing of flesh - if he could even call it that.
Drip.
Drop.
The splattering of ichor and the smack of viscera upon the sand. The gleeful shouts of the strangers as they lost themselves in the decadence of their grim work - of their Saturnalia of Slaughter. Oscar heard the screams. He saw a clergyman clutching the bloody stump of what used to be his hand. 
Oscar saw many things. The strange creature and his black blood soaking into the sand, washing away with the tides. He saw the strangers descend upon one another after their quarry had finished its final death rattles. Ripping and tearing into one another. Crimson blending with black upon the sands like paint upon a palette. Oscar wanted to close his eyes. He had seen horror - real horror - but he had never seen anything like this. The wild eyes beneath those wide-brimmed hats. The same shouts of glee as they tore their comrades apart. As they were torn apart in kind. But something kept his eyes riveted to the scene. As if he needed to bear witness. As if the knowledge wanted to be learned. Because once it had, there could be no going back. It could not been unlearned. It could not be unseen. Insight of the past desired to inflict itself upon the present.
As the darkness fell upon him, Oscar found that his attention had turned back the way that he had come. Oscar sat, stark still, head swiveled back towards the beach and those deep, dark waters. His eyes were wide and that sound continued to thunder in his ears.
Drip.
Drop.
Drip.
Drop.
Oscar felt a trepidation that was fundamentally unlike him. He thought that he had seen and experienced the worst that this game could possibly throw at him. And he found that he had been so totally wrong. He feared the next flash of lightning, fingernails digging into the stone as if to brace for the next vision. As if he could brace for the next vision. But as much as he feared it, he found himself hungry for it. Salivating for more knowledge, some deep-seated part of him ravenous for the story to continue to unfold before him.
Again, lightning flashed. One sole survivor stood amongst the fallen multitudes in the aftermath of their Festival of Harvest. His white robes and cloak soaked black and red, the brass helmet upon his face slightly crooked. The man of the cloth fell to his hands and knees. Eventually, Oscar thought he might be lamenting what he had just done. As if a sudden bolt of sanity had cleared whatever bloodlust he had found himself gripped by. His shoulders shuddered, a strange sound - guttural and low - resonated from him. Oscar almost sighed in relief when he realized that he was crying. 
No. Not crying.
Oscar's blood ran cold as those sounds grew in volume. Laughter. Manic, desperate. That same glee from before as they ripped into the creature, themselves, intensified to an unfathomable level. The man tore off his mask and turned his head straight towards Oscar. They locked eyes.
Or they would have, were the man's sockets not empty.
The man ripped his attention away from Oscar, instead turning himself upon the dead arranged before him. Oscar could only watch on in abject horror as he gorged himself upon the fallen. Those sickening sounds as he feasted. The gleeful shrieks as he sank his teeth into flesh. He began with the creature, gnawing on its gelatinous form. Black ichor oozed from the corners of his mouth, dribbling off of his chin.
Drip.
Drip.
The sounds of his repast drowned out the air. The crunching of bone and the wet sounds of chewing. Oscar would never be able to unhear it. He would never be able to un-know. He could merely sit there, frozen. Bearing witness and praying for the darkness to take him into its sweet embrace. But it never came. Time stretched unto infinity. He was trapped here. Cursed to see this scene of depravity to its end. 
The more the man feasted, the less like a human he came to resemble. It was as if he was gaining years worth of weight at once. Flesh writhed, thick layers of fat forming underneath. His sounds were undercut by ragged breaths as his lungs and heart struggled under the weight. His limbs swelled to impossible proportions, his robes split under the strain of his increasingly gargantuan bulk. Oscar witnessed teeth fall from his maw, broken against bone. And yet he still continued to chew. Still continued to indulge himself like a mindless beast. And it wasn't until the last scrap was eaten and the last drop of blood was licked from the sand that the man began to move. He rose to his full height and walked forward. Towards the water. Oscar watched as he shambled forward, the tides licking at his feet. At his ankles. At his knees.
Darkness fell, the vision faded. But he still heard it. That manic laughter. The ripping and the tearing. The crunching. And he found himself wishing that he had been there. That he could have partaken of their communion as sacrifice. Would that he could have received such an honor. He heard shambling nearby. Or was it far away. The rhythmic slapping sound, unsteady footsteps approaching. But he didn't care. He had dishonored himself by not partaking. By not participating. Maybe if they had killed that damn bear sooner, he could have ascended too.
He didn't notice the hulking presence approaching him. Or the large flipper that rose, lingering in the air like an executioner's axe. Those ivory tusks that shone in the weak moonlight. But he did feel the slap. And he felt something release from his flesh. All at once, his mind returned to him. Just in time to see that Walrus from earlier looming over him.
Just in time to see that odd creature land between his feet.
Oscar's attention flicked between the walrus and the strange aquatic creature curling in on itself between his feet. It was white, almost translucent. Not unlike the creature from his visions. Oscar picked it up off of the ground, examining it. It had a circular mouth and rows of small teeth. Not unlike a lamprey. He rubbed the top of this head, feeling at the wounds there. When had this thing attached to him? Perhaps it had been clinging to the mast of that ship that had crashed down upon his head, transferring in the collision. Oscar realized that his headache was gone now. So he'd certainly found the source of that. But the bigger issue was the walrus that was still looming over him. And the Mimic that had jumped out of nowhere and tried to chomp down on his face. This one was unlike the last. It was normal. Something that, at this very moment, Oscar was very grateful for.
A long silence passed between Oscar and the Walrus man. He didn't know where to begin. He knew where he wanted to. But he wasn't fully certain that he wanted the answer. But he needed to know. That same unnatural thirst for knowledge had its grip upon his mind.
"Did that- What this thing showed me. Did that happen?"
The Walrus man shrugged and shook his head. Not exactly helpful information, but certainly a mercy. If it was just something showed to him - if it was just a scene from a shitty gorefest movie - he could let it go. But it had felt so real. And he couldn't trust his own intuition. He felt it in his bones that it had all been real. But there was a glimmer in the back of his mind that told him that it wasn't. Hoped that it wasn't. And even if it had been real, it created more questions than it answered.
 Oscar's temper suddenly flared. He dropped the lamprey that remained trapped between his fingers, the thing that lurched towards him so hungrily. Oscar raised his boot and stamped it beneath his heel. He would get the necessary therapy later. Right now, he had a job to do. And now, more than ever, he knew that they needed to put this entire fucking place firmly within their rear view. So, he plastered a smile on his face and turned his attention back to the walrus man.

"I'm gonna call you Waldo," he said. There was a glint in the creature's eye. A certain familiarity. As if he had been called that before. He merely nodded in acceptance. There was something else. A spark of joy. Oscar brought his hand down, holding his palm up toward Waldo. "Appreciate your help, Waldo. Gimme some fin." Waldo was all too happy to acquiesce, slapping his flipper against Oscar's hand in the best low-five they could muster. 

"I'm gonna reckon that if we take out the Floor Boss, you guys might go back to normal," Oscar said. "Any idea where it is?"

Waldo shook his head, instead pointing down the road. Oscar could only assume that there was another location beyond this town that he hadn't checked.

"So you don't know where the boss is, but there is something going down over there?"

Waldo nodded vigorously, his jowls flopping around in time with his motions. Oscar nodded and quickly patted himself as if to check for any additional hangers-on.

"You're a real one, Waldo. Thanks. We're gonna get you guys some help, so hang on."

It felt weird, being legitimately concerned about an NPCs well-being. But, the thing had done him a solid by knocking that brain sucker off his head. The least he could do was try to set things right. "You just sit tight for me, okay?"

    Somehow, Oscar felt that he was in the final stretch. He'd not made much headway so far, but it felt like a turning point. But, really, after what he'd seen anything would feel like a turning point. But he also felt a certain sense of urgency. He needed to circle the wagons before not after he found the door. At the speeds he was sprinting, it was probably ill-advised to be tapping out messages and not watching where he was going.
    But there weren't any texting and driving laws in Aincrad.
        
            
                To @Lessa
                 
                 Hey. Shit got weird. Get your shit together. I'm almost at the door and we need to fuckin' leave.             
        
    
    
    An ominous message, for sure, but between dodging terrain and shambling horrors, it didn't leave much room for Oscar to mince words. He darted down the road, blazing a breakneck trail into the hitherto untouched wilderness. 

Off in the distance, he could see the faint light of torches piercing the umbra. He'd made it this far solely because he'd had the bright idea to pick up Night Vision. This would have been a non-starter if he hadn't. Oscar poured on more speed. He could almost feel his non-existent heart thundering out of his chest as his boots thundered down upon the road. His swiped open his menu again.

    

    To @NIGHT

    Get the goons together. I don't know that we're gonna have time to have a whole-ass meeting about this boss. I'll send location shortly.

Get in, kill the thing, get out. Maybe he was still rattled by those brain sucker-induced visions. And really, he had no way of even knowing that they were true. But it didn't change the reality that they were on a Floor with no Safe Zones where, at any moment, a leech could attach to your noggin and show you the wildest, most terrible things.
Oscar suddenly skidded to a stop. This whole thing was tiresome as hell. The mental fatigue was the kicker. No small wonder, really. Even Oscar - the very definition of chaos itself - was unable to easily shake what he had seen. But really, who would? Getting a front row seat to some ritualistic cannibal shit was definitely not on the list of things Oscar thought he would have to deal with today. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was almost funny how the Floor was sticking to the bit. Paint-by-numbers horror. 
"What's next? Some lanky bitch running at me with a chainsaw?"
He heard the engine rev behind him almost immediately. He turned, watching a bug-eyed (literally bug-eyed, bitch had six of em) running at him flailing a chainsaw. Oscar didn't have time for the smoke and took off like a rocket again. It was almost like he'd manifested that shit.
Oscar came to a stop again. Off in the middle distance, there was, in fact a blue-haired e-girl. Gag reflex status to be determined. She hummed a tune, arms swaying back and forth slowly. Oscar both liked and disliked how she looked at him. A deep-seated hunger. The faintest wisp of a smile upturned upon her face, green eyes boring holes into him. If Oscar had a picture of an E-girl in his mind's eye, she would be it. It was like she had been taken from the darkest recesses of his mind and given life in front of him.
And it would have been dope. But it wasn't, for two reasons. First of all, Oscar no longer trusted a single fucking thing on this floor. He was waiting for that other boot to drop. For her jaw to unhinge and reveal rows upon rows of teeth or something.

    The second reason was, of course, the giant Angler fish mother fucker lurking in the darkness behind the woman. Guess it thought Oscar wouldn't be able to see it. Or that he'd be so distracted by, quite honestly, the hottest babe he'd seen since that duel with Lessa. But he was horny, not stupid. And he had special eyes.
    "That's just not fair," Oscar lamented. "Why you gotta mess with a man's feelings like that?"
    Everything seemed to be double edged. You got what you wished for but someone or something made a point to fuck it up in the most poetic of ways. The creature leaped into the air, the woman tugged from the ground by that fleshy tether. And like with the last horror, Oscar didn't have time to catch smoke with some fat fish. So he took off running again. Not out of fear, but this thing most definitely wasn't his time. Plus, it would probably die anyway. 

On the brighter side of things, Oscar was feeling more like himself. Whatever lingering effects the brain sucker had on him were slowly working their way out of his system. That was a really dirty trick. He wondered how bad things would have gone if he were in a party. If they'd all been infected. Visions of the scene, of the slaughter and the repast flashed across his mind. Would they all fall under the same spell? Killing and eating one another, with no evidence or explanation as to what happened or where they had gone? Their names would just manifest on the Monument. Would that give people a hint? Would it tell the Frontliners that this place was not to be fucked with? It would have to. An entire scouting party up and dying would be enough to give anyone pause. Like him, they were horny. Not stupid.
He realized that there were probably some people that would be irritated at the fact that he took all of this upon himself. And he also realized that those same people would probably never believe him when he mentioned his brain sucker-induced hallucination. But he knew what he saw, what he felt. A group seeking the next floor would be in incredible danger. And he doubted that there were enough Waldos on this floor to save them from their doom. Or maybe there were. Oscar would fully admit that he had gotten lucky. But he was stronger than your average bear with a wealth of experience. Unhinged memelord he may be, but he knew his shit. He was careful - or at least liked to think that he was. A scout running solo, in this case, was several orders of magnitude safer than a full party of four. He'd just have to take his lumps.
Oscar suddenly went sprawling to the ground, his foot having caught on something large and heavy. Another treasure chest. He let out a heavy sigh, realizing that there was a potential for another huge brawl. Despite everything, he felt that he was at the end. Just one more push, just a few more moments of sprinting through the darkness. This floor was surprisingly large. He'd run for minutes straight and still had yet to arrive at his destination. At the speeds he maneuvered, that was an incredible distance. Still, in the distance, he could see the torch lights looming larger. But he couldn't see the lights from where he had come. Clearly that meant that he would soon arrive. What awaited him there? Was it the next piece of the puzzle? Another horrific scene to explain what had happened here? Or would it simply be the door, standing tall and strong - holding silent vigil as if it had been waiting for him?
His destination almost snuck up on him. Skidding to another stop, Oscar found himself in a small fishing hamlet. Like the rest of the floor, it was abandoned. Signs hung, half hooked upon the their mounts. They filled the air with a high-pitched squeaking noise as they fluttered precariously in the wind. Doors hung off of their hinges, revealing nothing be inky blackness in the structures they'd once hung from. But there were torches plunged into the ground all around him. Fresh, new. Vibrant. As if someone had only just been here. He walked through the streets, his eyes passing over over-turned boats and spilled barrels with half-decayed fish spilling out onto the streets. The stench was enough to make Oscar cover his nose in disgust. It was almost more disconcerting to see the ruins illuminated so clearly. True, there were few shadows for horrific creatures to make an attack from. But seeing everything so abandoned and rain-drenched only served to highlight the ominous pressure that bore down upon his shoulders.
His investigation turned up little. But surely he wouldn't be pointed in this direction if he wasn't meant to be here. It was slow going. Oscar had to check every awning, every board, every door frame for more of those brain suckers. He found a few, lurking in the corners in wait for a new victim. More than a few had launched themselves at his head. But their trick would only work on Oscar once. And they seemed to have an aversion to fire. At one point, one had lunged at him as he entered a building. With the sudden presence at the center of his vision, Oscar stumbled backwards towards a nearby torch. Whether it was the heat or the light, the creature began to writhe at the last second. Pitched off its trajectory, it missed Oscar by mere inches, instead sailing off into the darkness. Oscar grabbed a torch from the ground.
Whatever the creatures were, they hated the light. He held the torch aloft as he investigated the buildings. Brain suckers cascaded down from the ceiling in response. Some fell into the flame, igniting and falling to the floor like raining meteors. Oscar hadn't realized how infested these buildings were. Like cockroaches, hiding in cracks and corners and crevices. He stepped back outside. Wouldn't the doors be more imposing? Surely they wouldn't be hidden in a small hamlet like this. He looked around and wracked his brain. He thought of that scene of sacrifice. Why would it be shown to him if it wasn't significant? The gears began to turn as he looked out over the streets. The overturned barrels and the rotten, oily mess that splattered against the wooden structures and made the scattered nets and ropes slick with their sickness.
Wait. Fresh torches? Oil. Perhaps he needed to make an offering himself?
If it had been a dark offering that had summoned the storm and these creatures, perhaps one of a different sort would light the way. Oscar grabbed another torch and tossed it into a pile of oil-drenched netting. The smell of rotting fish filled the air as the fire took hold. It burned quickly, engulfing the town and and its structures almost immediately. And he heard it - a chorus of pained screeches that rose up unto the heavens. The town was turned into an inferno, flames rising skyward and lighting up the area. And it spread, igniting a trail of flotsam and debris that moved off in one direction. There was his ticket, Oscar realized. So he took off, moving through the burning hamlet and following the trail of fire. It was meandering and chaotic, moving like a serpent between stones and changing direction quickly with little to no warning.
    Someone had left a trail. Wanted to be found. Oscar didn't have time to consider the implications of that. And they really didn't matter. Much as he didn't want to do anything that this floor had wanted him to, he didn't have a voice. The boss needed to be defeated so that they could move on. He would simply have to hope that everyone was prepared for whatever horrors they witnessed. The trail stopped cold at a rock face jutting out of the ground. But there they were. The Doors. 
    "Alright, in and out. Quick 5 minute murder adventure," Oscar said as he pushed the doors open. He discarded his torch and stepped into the darkness, relying on his own sight and his own skills to take on whatever awaited him within.
      
    It was probably a foolish hope, but if the Labyrinth Guardian turned out to be a blue-haired E-girl with no gag reflex and wasn't attached to an Angler fish, he would be so happy.

 

 

Edited Sunday at 05:37 PM by Oscar

[Wulfrin 0]

Thread Closed. Boss Room Located.