Mausoleum: A Multiversal Dungeon Crawl

Siegward's brow furrowed, his face giving a hint of worry before he closed his helmet with a clattering sound. He must've been sent on a wild goose chase! Looking back, trusting someone stuck in a 3-foot wide cage who mostly talked about his "nana" wasn't the most reasonable reason to go trekking back across the kingdom, treasure or no treasure. But now that this bull, who seemed much more trustworthy on any matter, had just unconfirmed his reason for coming here? Hmm. This is going to make things more complicated.

He sat there for a bit, drinking and contemplating his next plan of action. He knew from the tales passed down his family that one of his ancestors was known for spending much time planning like some kind of master tactician, but he never seemed to be blessed in that regard like he was. Siegward was a man of action at heart, even if it meant that action didn't work the first time.

His deep, incredible internal struggle ended when he heard the witch beside him very loudly solicit the need for, at least from his end, what sounded like a traveling companion. This sorceress and her vagabond friend didn't seem like they had the constitution to go delving...that is, if there was anything else besides this bar and whatever mountainside the bull had mentioned. He still wasn't sure if this was actually a mausoleum.

"Well, as a man of adventure at heart, if not by trade," he said to Marisa as he tried to turn to her only to suddenly swerve. This must be come kind of odd magic, because the chair seemed to spin as if it was a wheel! Temporarily distracted by this, he continued, "Yes...as a man of adventure, I'd go down with you. There isn't much place for me back in Catarina, and I doubt anything here could be more dangerous than back home, either!"

"Vegetables is the basis of human existence," Mitsurou replied to Dvora. "Properly made, a sack of vegetables could sustain a human being for weeks. Done wrong, a single vegetable could kill you. That is the power of a cook. Which is why it pisses me off to see-"

He was rudely interrupted by the arrival of the Pulque.

"Another challenge? Alright, let's have a taste."

The cloudy liquid was surprisingly drinkable, as Mitsurou had been expecting something stronger. It had a strong taste of yeast, but it was surprisingly sour as well. But taste was one thing. Mitsurou slammed the glass on the counter, and there was a manic look in his eyes.

"This is quite a drink you have brought before me, strongest man in the world! This drink is brimming with vitamin C and lactic acid. But more importantly is the phytase!"

The cook was speaking quite emphatically at this point, and a strange shine had entered his fierce eyes.

"Phytase is one of the many essential enzymes necessary for the digestive process and a key enzyme for bone health. It breaks down and increases the nutritional value of plant matter, most importantly minerals, at the same as it reduces the negative effects of the phytic acids they contain. In other words, it's invaluable if your diet contains a lot of grains and vegetables. And this alcohol is full of it! This is a good choice, Adlet Meyer."

Mitsurou grinned and took another sip as the ATM creature explained its purpose. He was slightly disappointed, for a moment he had planned to use his credit cards to withdraw some local currency, but it seemed that would have to wait. Instead, he placed two 10 000 yen bills and a 100 dollar bill on the counter, presenting them to the furry animal.

"What does this get me?"

Get in trouble for disappearing? Well, when she thought on it, Reisen could well see why that was Marisa's belief. But no, this was in the end not a personal decision. Master had flat out told her to do this and arranged for her to be sent here. However she did that, Reisen had no idea.

Whether or not Lady Kaguya had any input on the decision was similarly a mystery. Somehow she doubted it.

All that said, the prospect of treasure was interesting. A chance for her to profit a bit on the side.

"Sure. That sounds pretty good actually."

She had no money or any worth exchanging on her person though, which was a bit problematic right now. Ah well.

She winced as Adlet and Mitsurou had their little exchange. So many weirdos in this assembly.

The bar would rattle as Adlet smacked his palms against it again, before triumphantly thrusting his thumb to his chest. “If you think a door will stop me, you haven’t been paying attention! The Strongest Man in the World is—”

Adlet was cut off again as the person he’d so irkfully presented the beverage to exploded into an almost impossibly detailed analysis of the drink’s composition and long-term benefits. "Th-thank, you." Adlet said, scratching his cheek. So thrown for a loop was he that he almost didn’t register the weasel coming up on stage, offering to… exchange their currency?

Adlet shook his head. This may not have been the most comprehensive magical trap he’d ever been caught it, but it was certainly the weirdest. But he couldn’t let the unrelenting torrent of surreality swallow him up—him, or the aspiring chef savant next to him. As Mitsurou slapped the money down, Adlet attempted to slap his own hand over it, to keep it out of Addward’s adorable furry grasp. “Any currency used by Fiends isn’t currency for polite company!” He insisted, both to the young chef and anyone else who might be listening. “This is obviously a trap. I don’t know how so many of you got here, or why, but playing into this any longer will only get us hurt! We’d be better off to band together, in order to get out of here.” His hand fell to his side to clasp into a fist, needle points subtly perking out between his fingers like tiny claws in preparation. “We may be outnumbered in body, but never in spirit!” He said, holding his other fist in front of him in a sign of solidarity after he leapt back from the bar.

edited 5th Jun '16 2:05:10 PM by Uncandescent

"...It's... passable. At least you didn't get any hair in the drink." A shy mumble made its way from Karin's lips as she continued to sip away at the drink, just the tiniest smidgen of red adorning her cheeks that she vehemently refused to acknowledge. "...Thanks, I guess." Listening a bit further and finding out that her currency wasn't worth squat, the girl almost spat out her drink before noticing she had drank a full half of the cup. "..." Rummaging around in her backpack, the girl ever so hesitantly pulled out what seemed to be a small bottle of what constituted her city's version of a 24 hour energy drink. After all, a Hero never ran out on the bill.

"Do you accept an exchange of equal goods? If this isn't enough, I can add in more." The Hero was well aware of all the other people at the table's antics but that was steadily being ignored so she wouldn't get swept up in the shenanigans involved. After all, she didn't want to be thrown in prison for participating in what looked like the very beginnings of a bar brawl before she got to the dungeon. "Nope nope nope, not getting involved." Even so, her cheek twitched with annoyance as she saw how WEIRD and ROWDY everyone else was getting.

edited 6th Jun '16 6:58:56 PM by Makaioh

Mitsurou, you find Addward staring at your money, then at Adlet's enveloping hand. He rolls his tiny eyes.

"Apportate Assets," he says in a cold voice filled with red ink and the scraping of registers. His pupils turn to liquid gold, melt down into his whites. The flash almost blinds you - and then your cash is right underneath his furry claws.

"Let me tell you something, kiddo," he squeaks at Adlet. "I don't care if you're the strongest man in your world. I don't care if you can knock down houses with your pecker. No-one keeps me from my clients, not unless they want the clothes sued off their peachy pink backs. Got that?"

"Now, now, Addward," says Rufus, already ruffling Karin's head. "Play nice."

"Automagical Appraisal," sulks Addward in his ringing voice, and the gold graphs dance around his form in a frenzy. The notes begin to glow. "Convert in three, on my count. Start now -"

Fast as a firework, he scampers around them once, twice, thrice - then the cash bursts into a small shower of blue coins, which fly over to you and arrange themselves in fifteen stacks of ten.

(Each coin shimmers in a subtly different way. On the heads side is embossed the bust of a black man with a crown, a feather boa, and a giant pair of suspiciously familiar furry sunglasses. Around him are the words: 'Cold Hard Cash.' On the reverse side are two C's linked, and a strange code in an unknown script.)

"And there you have it," says Rufus. "One hundred-fifty fresh Cryptcoins. I'll take three for the Bloody Mary. Juice is on the house."

Addward sits up again, casting his supercilious gaze across all and sundry.

"Alright, who else?"

Karin puts down a can. Addward balks.

"Oh, flay my flesh and make a mother-hugging mitten, are you actually -"

Rufus coughs.

"-as young as you look? Because you sure seem like it. You're positively glowing. Wowee."

And scarpering over, he does the entire song and dance again, to the grand total of two Cryptcoins.

"That'll do, little lady," says Rufus, snatching the coins in mid-air and tossing them into some unseen space beneath the bar. "I suggest the rest of you fork out something. Ol' Addward seems to be getting pretty antsy."

"Shove a cart in it, bull-brain."

edited 7th Jun '16 4:43:52 PM by troydenite

Dvora watched as Mitsurou's rant started off simply overly-passionate, only to spiral into lunacy the moment he took a swig of that milky-white drink. She shuffled to one side, in case he collapsed and started frothing at the mouth, making a mental note not to try the pulque.

Her outlook didn't improve as the barkeep produced some sort of weasel and told the group to give it their valuables. She looked between the fuzzy magic-lined thing and the bull with a flat expression, only grudgingly abandoning her scepticism in the face of a few demonstrations from the aytiem (and the memory of Gira's earlier lecture). She slipped 3 GP out of her coinpurse and thumbed them into a hidden slit in her belt - she wasn't going to turn all her gold into blue in case something went wrong and she found herself back home, penniless. The other 27 and change were thumped down on the counter.

"Don't eat the pouch, I don't have another one." She said, her hand habitually dropping oh-so-casually to draw back her coat and rest her fingers on the pommel of her dagger, the universal sign for I'm watching you grubby up my money, you spindly-fingered coin-counter.

edited 8th Jun '16 6:01:25 AM by Gaunt88

Brow furrowed far in deficiency of the natural order, Girimehkala snorted indistinct, as was his nature. He had been gifted only three gold coins, themselves relics of distinct yet equally irrelevant antiquities, and expected to sustain a greater wealth through right of sacred robbery - he withdrew only one, a child-squid sovereign of the bloodmoon city, whose name will not be granted recognition.

Through long practice, the fingers of the elephant had been conquered by dexterity. The coin flipped three times deft, before landing with an uncouth report upon the nose of Shrill Addward, where it balanced under laws unnatural. Here a curse was imparted from the dampest of the coin's histories, but was so mild to be of no exceptional consequence and could be banished by rigorous hygiene.

Girimehkala smiled, a gesture unlearned men have difficulty discerning. This is known to be an ill omen.

edited 8th Jun '16 8:42:07 PM by OG-Sama

"Stranger things have happened today than my trusting the services of a talking marten. Thank you, dealer."

Mitsurou looked over his new currency, then stashed it away in a compartment in his large backpack. The exchange rate seemed to have been fair, and if the barkeep was accepting it, it all seemed legit. Well, unless they had a scam going, which wasn't entirely out of the question. The blue coins were slightly dubious. On the other hand, they were elaborate and strange enough that they probably were real.

And if this turned out to be a scam, Mitsurou knew how to cook marten.

"However, I do agree that if our goals are set beyond this pub, then we should join together. I can make whatever you need for food, and make sure you all eat properly, if we travel together."

"What do you take me for, lady, a bloomin' flytrap? I wouldn't eat your pouch if it was the last thing in the Mausoleum!"

Addward gives you a scornful floof of his tail. It is at this point, Dvora, that three things happen. Firstly, Girimekhala's coins hit Addward square in the nose, or rather round on the snout, and his eyes widen in outrage. His incisors glint like so many whalebone splinters. Secondly, Mitsurou makes some comment about forming a party, seconding Marisa's own sentiment, which itself went largely ignored. Thirdly, and this is important, a skeleton named Brook who was until very recently left out of the proceedings altogether crashes skullfirst into the bar and I suppose I will have to go back to the beginning and tell you exactly what transpired but sadly chronology dictates that oh me oh my -

We interrupt this narration for a brief announcement. The narrator heretofore assigned to this tale appears to have been struck down by a terrible disease known as Bifurcated Eye, and has been rushed to surgery. We hope to reconstitute his point of view eventually. Please do not stop reading.

Terribly sorry about that. It was completely unintentional, I assure you. Anyway, there is a skeleton in the bar, nose-down, or rather very conspicuously on it. I'm afraid I can't tell you how he got there without destroying your sense of time, but you can probably fill in the gaps. Addward is nowhere to be seen. Rufus is happily getting rid of the broken glass on and around the newcomer with a Dust-It-All discreet particle disintegrator. Your gold, and for that matter Girimekhala's, is also missing.

Behind you is a slender steel form in black lace and blood-red silk. She looks riveted together, and steam jets at intervals from the vents at her neck. Her face is smooth and silver as a death-mask, with a high perfect nose and pupilless yellow lights for eyes. Her hair is burnished bronze, and all of a piece. She has no mouth.

"I-am-not-wea-ring-un-der-gar—ments," observes the gynoid in an eminently practical voice, "but-the-sug-ges-tion-is-none-the—less-scan-da—lous."

Another jet of steam. Her left arm creaks up in one swift motion, as stiff as a crane. Her ballgown is pristine, but hangs off at all the wrong angles. Her voice crinkles with the harsh sound of needles on paper, and seems to come from her chest.

"I-am-de-sig—na-ted-CynthiaScarlatti-Mark-The-Twentieth. Is-this-the-kind-of-patron-you-will-suf-fer, Ruf-us-of-the-al—co-ho—lic-eye?"

Rufus scratches his hairy chin.

"Well, not until I know what he's done. I mean, looks like he tried to take a gander at something that, begging pardon, doesn't exactly exist. Yoohoo! Anyone home?"

He gives the skull a hearty knock or three. And then:

"Get your big clonking fist off of me, you lobotomized stud! I can't see a thing and it smells like Poseidon's piss in here!"

There proceeds another loud series of scratches, wriggles, and oaths, many of which are so eclectic even you have to stop and ponder them for a few moments. But alas, no dice, and no marten either.

Well, at least you know where Addward is.

edited 12th Jun '16 7:07:10 AM by troydenite

"Watch your heads!"

That was the only warning that preceded the skeleton flying skull first into the bar, trying to avoid colliding anyone that might have been in his way. Once the bag of bones, sans the bag, came to a stop he did not seem very keen on moving right away. He was able to overhear the gynoid's response of course, causing him to let out a defeated sigh as the bartender knocked on his skull. "Ahhh well, perhaps there are some things that man was not meant to lay his eyes upon. Not that I have any eyes to begin with, Yohohohohoho!" The skeleton laughed jovially as he rose up off of the bar.

Standing at his full height, the skeleton man tilted his crown-hat to those present. "Terribly sorry about the disturbance everyone. Sometimes I can't help myself when confronted with beauty." With his cane tucked under his arm, Brook bowed respectfully to everyone present, hoping that no one took his sudden interruption too personally.

"Hmmm?" It was at this moment that he noticed that his vision was a little obscured. It seemed that something fuzzy was obscuring his vision from one of his eye sockets. How exactly did he see from those? Questions for another time probably. It was then he noticed the scratching on the inside of his skull. Boney hands flung up to grab the tail poking out of his eye socket to grab it and try to pull out whatever was in there. "Gross! Gross! Get it out!" the skeleton panicked.

The marten had somehow found it's way into the skull of the walking skeleton. This was getting beyond ridiculous. Reisen shook her head, then took another sip of her drink. She considered helping for a moment, but ultimately getting entangled with a flailing skeleton and a grumpy marten was not the best use of her time.

It occured to her that martens ate rabbits. That gave her pause. Perhaps she should catch one at some point and threaten Tewi's operation with it. Finally get her to listen for once. At the thought of handling one though, she gave an involuntary shudder. Maybe not then. Quickly she tried to shift subjects in her mind.

The gynoid too, had the most unpleasant voice. Quietly she muffled the most intolerable aspects. There, much better. Now it simply sounded exceedingly plain.

Now then, some more waiting was in order.

"An adventurer, huh? You seem like a good guy to have around, then! 'specially with all that armor. You must be pretty strong to be able to heft all that around, huh?" Marisa grins broadly, her good cheer only elevating as the spiky-haired foodie across the bar shows a similar interest in moving out as a group. If all the other weirdos join up with them, they're gonna have one heck of a fighting force behind them.

"Name's Marisa Kirisame. What's yours, o brave adventurer?" Siegward finds the witch's small hand thrust towards him, in an offer to shake. How she expects to properly shake his gauntleted hand is anyone's guess, but her gusto remains unshaken. And then, likely as an afterthought:

"And anyone else who wants to come with us, sign up with me and Calorie Crusader over there! We're gettin' out of this place and back to where we came from, and we're probably gonna find cool crap on the way! Who's with us?"

Something tells Marisa that by shouting boisterously to the entire bar, she's chosen by far the most prudent course of action.

Siegward tried to return the handshake at first, but with his mittens on his hand dwarfed the girl's. He quickly unfastened the leather straps keeping it in place, and properly returned the handshake with his still rather large hand. He gave a short bow as well, and answered, "I am Siegward of Catarina. A pleasure to make the acquaintance of a sorcerer, as I don't see them too often nowadays."

When a certain skeleton had something launch into his skull, Siegward was quick to help out a fellow undead. He walked on over to the man and stuck his hand inside his eye socket, which was just large enough to get through. Once inside, he tried to grab whatever was buzzing around inside, and yank it out in one swift motion.

Brook, you may not realise this at the moment, but your screaming is in fact being echoed in squeaky counter-tenor by an equally panicked voice - and when I say echoed, I mean echoed. It sounds like a whole choir of lemmings tumbling down a sand-dune. A dune with an Afro, lots of bony nubs and a penchant for casual perversion.

"Stop moving, you musty-marrowed moron! And who are you calling gross? Do you even shower? Have you swabbed the inside of your head in, I dunno, the last century? Do I need to gnaw your nose off from the inside and stick my furry CRIMINY CRICKETS NOT THE TAIL NO AH OW AHHHHH-"

For it is the onion-shaped knight who grabs the furry thing flopping near your nose, and it is he who pulls. Boisterously he pulls, and a terrible scratching like nails on a billion blackboards grates straight through your marrow and turns your teeth to needles. A straining, a squirming, and then pop! goes the marten. You feel lighter already.

Addward sneezes, shakes his bedraggled body, looks around with hate-filled eyes, then scurries up Siegward's arm and tries to bite his ears off. Unfortunately, the knight has no visible ears, and thus the only results of his assailant's wrath are more hellish scratching and a furious flurry of incensed ejaculations.

The Forever and a Day seems to float into a pleasant numbness, free from mustelids and all their conniptions. You might even feel like sitting down and putting up your metatarsals. Sadly, the possibility is dashed when Cynthia Scarletti Mk. XX's girder-like finger rams into your sternum.

"Ex-plain-your-im-pro-pri-et-y-this-ins-tant. Are-you" -and here her head swivels right around in a complete circle to regard everyone else at the bar- "his-com-pan-i-ons? Do-you-vouch-for-this-bri-gand? Will-you-stand-id-ly-by-and-be-smirch-my-ho-nour?"

"Don't look at me," says Rufus. "I only own this place."

"If-you-do-not-a-venge-my-ho-nour-you-are-ac-com-pli-ces," steams Cynthia. "LaSerenissima-will-hear-of-this. Re-move-this-skel-e-ton-from-the-prem-i-ses."

"Not without my order, and not if I can find someone to take him," says Rufus, the star-blue glinting in his bottle-eye. "I don't care if he dropped to one knee and drank deep of your bronze behind, gynoid. No-one deserves to be cut loose in the Mausoleum."

Cynthia simmers.

"The-judge-ment-is-un-just," she says at last.

Rufus grins. He knows when he's won.

"Thing is, I haven't even started. How's about we let these gravity-guts decide? It seems they're already forming a nice little crew, so if they'll take our bony gentleman, everyone gets what they want. How's about it, my fair-haired witch? Sir Knight?"

He only names two, but it seems clear that everyone at the bar has more or less been co-opted into the same impromptu jury.

edited 20th Jun '16 7:32:36 AM by troydenite

With a three-pronged thwip of rushing air, a trio of needles impacted the ground between Brook and Cynthia. Whether they actually stuck into the ground or not, they would be closely followed by Adlet strolling forward, his eyes closed over a knowing smile.

“The Strongest Man in the World stands for many things!” He declared, turning stridently to face Brook as he planted his hands on his hips, leaning forward with a frown and his hands on his hips. “He knows that a woman’s honor is sacred, and any that would disrespect it are scum.” He then pivoted smoothly around, jutting out his arm and an outstretched finger to point at Cynthia’s torso. “However! Anyone who would abandon their comrades, they are lower than scum!” He then crossed his arms, nodding his head as though deliberating a difficult riddle. “The Strongest Man in the World, he is neither of these things. And he can do this not because he is the strongest, but is the strongest because he can do this. To work for the greater good, and the personal good. To that end, the Strongest Man in the World beseeches you—” With an earnest smile, Adlet fell to one knee, proffering to Cynthia a lotus-like flower he’d folded out of one of the bar napkins. “Please forgive my friend, as I’m sure he meant only the best. The world is cold enough without good people making it colder.”

Adlet’s smile held like a high-tension wire, knowing that this kind of situation could go south at the slightest provocation. He didn’t know who these people were, or where they came from, but he knew they were in this mess together. “If your fury truly has no other outlet, then please, take it out on me." He said, beating his free fist against his chest. "As the Strongest Man in the world, I can take it.”

So, the choice of whether or not to take the walking skeleton was being proffered to them. How generous. His behaviour thus far had not done much to endear him to Reisen. Just another fool it seemed. Still, an extra pair of hands might be useful. At the very least, if they encountered something threatening, she imagined this fine specimen would make a good distraction.

"Well, I think we should take him," she piped up cheerily from her table. "I doubt we need justification for bringing a skeleton into a mausoleum anyway."

Mitsuro looked over at the skeleton, thinking. He knew a lot of recipes that used bones, but none for skeletons to eat. Cooking for a skeleton seemed like a good challenge. On the other hand, he seemed scrawny. Well, he was a skeleton, after all. No flesh, no fat, no muscle to maintain...

"Skeleton-man, do you eat?" The chef asked the bony bard, scowling. "I don't trust someone who doesn't eat."

"..." Her cheeks pouting out even more until it reached squirrel levels of puff, Karen's face flushed even more red with color as she was pet on the head in such a manner. Ordinarily she would react in a slightly belligerent manner, but he was covering for her in the strange bar. As an intelligent young woman, she knew that if she wasn't covered, there might have been a lot more trouble in store. Adding even more fuel to the fire was that red-headed buffoon that continued to raise a racket most terrible, aggravating her even more. Seeing as she couldn't vent on her savior, the Hero switched targets and took out one of her energy drink bottles. Hefting the small container in her hand for a bit, the young miss then reared back and chucked it towards Adlet's ever-so-targettable head in a spinning blur. "Settle down, baka!" Sneering at the idiot even while she was still being patted on the head, the magical girl looked quite a lot better after her actions.