John Skelecoot's Story

"Oh we haven't seen Max in a while have we?" Owru asks, her antennae perking up, tapping her fingers together. Sheepishly pointing she waves her hand. "It is her world too that they are trying to terraform, a-and besides... yeah, I think we should go to St. Lamia."

Mal shifts around, his pen light eyes glaring. "I'm... sorry, you guys are friends with one of the gods now? Did I... miss something crucial?"

"I mean, um, not all like Edge Dwellers are bad, just look at us!" she exclaims, giving her best go at a happy expression.

"You do realize we are considered fugitives to the Edge now, villains."

"But bad there is good here! So..."

"No! No! No! That is... wait... no, that's right, more or less... wow, you really were listening..." Mal says, scratching his head. "Well... I'll leave my vote as neutral for now."

I vote I go to bed and be done with all this nonsense... oh right, my vote doesn't matter given I can't talk... whee.

John would rest his bony chin on his fingers in a pose of deep thinking. "Well, I don't suppose Selena would like it much if we dragged her into another trip, though enlisting the assistance of a God would potentially be as safe as an ant asking help from a tiger. Of course, now we've got the whole of the Darkness focusing on Grand Gaia now, we'll need the greatest help we can get. I say we head to St. Lamia." His colleagues, and his brother, would voice their agreement with John, along with the refusal to cross the seas after the Celestial Sea incident. Oh, and the seasickness.
Seas are a common habitat for primal terrors, possibly because after a couple of fathoms, a sailor cannot see shit below the surface. This is possibly why the Chosen Few are normally the first to report that, despite popular belief, Z'irreg, The Undersea Death, was several miles the coast of Manehattan, feeding off the occasional ship. This is likely because of a popular saying among the dead; dead men tell no tales. So the Chosen Few would arrive to their destination, towing a quivering mass of flesh and eyes behind their ship, demanding a reward for their find. The aforementioned incident, however, only involved a hired ship, a crateful of rum, and a conveniently positioned rock. They don't talk about it out of sheer embarrassment, however John often jokes about it in a few of the Skeletorian top-nob parties he attends on account of being the Governor.

It was a rather unanimous decision, From Owru and the Chosen Few they had agreed to head north and find Maxwell. ”It’s settled then, we are heading to St. Lamia and get to Maxwell. Never thought I would be saying that...But things certainly change around here. Alright, let’s begin our journey to save the whole world once again everyone! I’m sure my freinds can handle their respective areas, but it’s up to us to clear out every other place which is to say...A lot of land to cover. But when something threatens the people of Grand Gaia they mess with the wrong people! Onwards!” Vargas the fiery haired warrior raised his sword and cheered before marching north. They had a ways ahead of them.

Oh yeah...He had one question left as he walked. ”So...What’s with the strange critter? Did you guys find a pet while you were at it?” Vargas asked Mal and Owru since they were with them.

Following them, the oddball duo turn to Vargas who actually took notice to them.

"Ehhh... I suggested she leave the thing behind, but... women, what can ya do?" Mal'kdet responds with a shrug. He then shudders and covers his mouth. "They're both stubborn, and omnipotent..."

Owru holds up Skitters who shuts eyes tightly and flails wildly. "You mean this? It's a raccoon." Owru says in an oblivious tone. "You seriously don't have raccoons in your world? "

"Must be wonderful, no rabies or trash strewn everywhere..." Mal comments with a chuckle. Skitters turns to him, her face turning red before hissing and swatting at him, causing him to jump away. "Hey, hey! Jokes aside, that is what your species typically is like! No offense." Huffing, Skitters folds her forelegs, averting her gaze, face still red, and shrugs, as if admitting it is fair. "So, spill, what are ya, some edge-animal hybrid?"

Something like that, she thinks, nodding her head back and forth with a grunt.

"So, what, are you with those losers back there?"

Loudly does the raccoon respond with a rather rude raspberry before casting very arrogant glare to male, emitting a sound almost like sardonic laughter, at the very possibility of the insinuation. Casting a smug glance she chuckles once more, shrugging. Why would I even remotely associate myself with those brainless wonders?! My potential is wasted on simple beasts, and to even be cast in the same light as them is simply... outrageous! She then sighs and holds out her hands presenting herself. One hitch of course is this damn body, it is so... constrained, primitive! I can't even talk properlu, everything I say comes out all... stupid!

"...what did it say?" Mal says, scratching his head.

"She finds the comparison incredibly laughable, that such creatures only hold her back. She's also infuriated by the limitations her body presents for her, like the inability of speech." Owru explains, quite matter-of fact at that. Skitters even stares in awe for a moment. Owru then laughs. "She also likes pie!" Owru finishes, her antennae curling up cheerfully.

I did not say th-! Skitters starts to shout from within her skull, before rubbing her chin with a thoughtful look. Actually, I do like pie...

The Chosen Few and John would once again draw their attention to the raccoon-thing that Owru was carrying. Although it did not seem capable of doing severe damage to their persons, they did not trust the first glance as it is normally completely wrong. However, if it wanted to leave the group, it could have let loose hell on it's captor a long time ago, which it didn't. For the time being, they took this as a good sign. It could not speak, only capable of screeches and some of the most vocal body language they've ever seen on a rodent. It was obviously able to understand the jester, as it made what sounded like the laughter of a honey badger who has long been refused honey. Luckily, Owru appears able to translate the rodent.
"Hey, who doethn't like pie!" said Jack, looking towards his confidants to back him up.
"I don't eat pie," said John bluntly, to Jack's disappointment, before looking to the honey badger, obviously embarrassed at the mere thought of talking to a rodent. "To be honest, if a Darkling came across a stinging needle that stung it, it would take it to it's hive thinking it had brought a potential weapon. They're not primarily hatched for their intelligence, only for terrorising nurseries and the such; the sort of creatures that hide under children's beds at night, that sort of thing. No, they leave the thinking for the higher beings." Like the God of Fear, he thought. Evil Hand, as held back by his name as he was, is at least smart enough to devise more cunning plans other than simply charging into the world thinking it will tremble at the sight of millions of imps that might look adorable in an odd angle.
"They hold you back, do they?" John continued, almost patronisingly. "How much do you think you're capable of, exactly?"

Vargas let out a hearty laugh as Owru said that the creature liked pie. Well despite none of them understanding what the Racoon As Owru put it said, it seemed that she could understand the creature. It was not part of the invaders in the world, and it seemed that the little creature seemed to be a little bit prideful. Other than that it also liked pie.

As the other began to voice their opinions on pie, Vargas decided to do the same. ”I also like pie! A nice thing to eat together with freinds and family.” He laughed as he got close to the raccon creature and looked at it while they all walked. ”Well, it’s good to know those darklings have rather low intelligence. Almost like the monsters in this world...Granted they are driven by eating people over thinking...Wait? What’s a bee?” The fiery headed warrior scratched his head as he reached his other hand out to pet the Racoon creature.

He was curious if Selena would like this creature. She liked slimes...Or maybe it was Lance, he was more akin to nature. Well...At the very least, they could hold their own same as him. War...A heroes duty was never done he supposed.

Skitters shifts over and glares at John, clearly aware of his patronizing tone. With a shrug she lifts her head and scratches her chin, giving a rather smug look, or at least, as much of one possibly to the given form. Oh, I don't know, what is a hybrid of flesh and essence with a rapidly evolving mind capable of? Skitters pokes the side of her head, gesturing to think. I'm pretty well a genius at this point, but you see, a body of my particular... vertical ineptitude and frailty can only go so far. My body has to catch up. She sighs, shrugging. So far I've only been able to grow slightly larger and an extra set of forelimbs, though they are pretty functional, digitally speaking.

"She says, or more... thinks... is some kind of hybrid with an intellect that is developing faster than this body can keep up with, and that she's... a genius with a short and puny body, and that she's only managed to grow slightly bigger and an extra set of paws, and that they work passably as hands," Owru says squinting her eyes and scratching her head, obviously having to paraphrase a lot. Skitters winces at the "puny" comment.

Who are you callin- as she waves her paw fist at Owru, Vargas reaches over and pats her on the head, the creature's entire body seizing up, tensing, eyes shifting over slowly to glare at him. There was a brief pause, making the Edge-dwellers assume she was going to explode again, instead relaxes and rests the upper set of paws on her cheeks, the other set folded, eyes narrowing. This is... acceptable.

"Y'know... This reminds me of a movie with apes ruling the world, just... replace the apes with raccoons." Mal comments.

John would listen to the raccoon, or rather, Owru speaking for the raccoon. The creature was rapidly evolving mentally, however the physical form was lagging behind. That explains it's mind's incompatibility with it's body. Perhaps it will eventually evolve a larynx capable of speech, if it's mind doesn't resort to thinking in binary first.
"Very well," he said. "I could see why the demons were interested enough to have picked you up. You could outwit a Darkling a hundred-fold, although there are things hanging under tree branches that are smarter than them." He would groan as Vargas began to pet the thing, though he was surprised when it didn't bite his hand off. "Of course, it would be interesting to see how your evolution goes. Hells, you might develop telepathy, for all I know."
The band of heroes would look restless at this last comment. They were edgy enough conversing with a near-mute raccoon, let alone a raccoon that could talk into their heads. John, however, had a strange expression, shared by a zoologist who had found a singing marmoset. Being a scientist by calling, John was always on the search for more knowledge on the Imagiverse, the sort of person who would read through the entire Necronomicon and write notes. Being dead and so around the bend he seems sane in a certain angle, he is not susceptible to the mind-melting effects that go hand-and-hand with forbidden knowledge and therefore seeks to gather as much as he could. The potential evolution going beyond mortal levels was just the thing to arouse his interest greatly.

Vargas smiles as he pat the Racoon like creature. Well, so far it did not...Or rather she did not bite his hand in retaliation against the petting. From what he gathered from Owru, it seems it was quite mentally capable, just physically incapable at the moment. But at the moment she was part of this merry band of people saving the world.

The fiery headed warrior gave her a small scratch along the ears before speaking. ”A movie about apes ruling the world?...Actually I have no idea what an ape is either...Anyways, we should be leaving the Agni continent soon, we will take the nearest portal and we should arrive in Mistral once again. Afterwards we make our way north and eventually head to St. Lamia. Let’s hope we revive a much better hospitality than last time...” Vargas nodded as he spoke.

The idea of bracing against stars once again was not what he would like given that the whole world was being invaded...Still, he wondered why he was still petting this Racoon like creature. John mentioned something about telepathy...Well, it would not be the first time he saw creatures developing great power...There was quite a few beasts that had quite the power...Could make for a great ally!

Telepathy? Perhaps... I'm only interested in overcoming myself, the critter thinks silently as they move forward. She folds her claws, draws back her ears, and closes her eyes and allows her mind to fade into pure concentrated thought. Hmmm... why isn't my body adapting..? I have necessity and drive...

"Better hospitality? Hah, what, this Maxwell kick you out before for ruining her favorite tea set?" Mal says with a laugh. "Not that I'd be too surprised, you can be a bit like a... hm... how to say this and make sense..? An ogre in shop full of urns."

"Well, we kinda fought the first time we were there," Owru says, curling her antennae. "Then we got sent on this mission to destroy the bad guys, like Mr. Malice." She stares at the clown for a moment, narrowing her eyes. "Hey, when did you add that purple one to your chain?" she says, pointing to what appears to be a sixth orb seated right under his chin, except it glows with a purple hazy light.

"What? Ha-ha! Ha! What?! Ehem... hey, what can I say? There is only so much someone can do with an off-green color until it gets old." he says, shrugging his arms nonchalantly, brushing off the question. "Not that I'm thaaaat absorbed into fashion... heheheh..!"

"She'd better show some hospitality," said Max. "It's her world we're defending from the Darkness, as clichéd as it is."
"Yes, I've been pondering on that," said John. "It is a direct - or indirect - manifestation of common evil, yes? I wouldn't be amazed if it's apparent bull-headedness and vapidity as a whole was a side-effect of this. After all, the common villain often sports a black cloak and moustache, does he not?"
"As usual, you make a very valid point," said Fancy.
"It keeps us on our toes, at least," said Adam before adding, "that is, those of us who have toes." The Chosen Few, as they considered this hitherto disregarded thought, looked down to their feet. They would look back up at Mal as Owru points out a new addition to the inter-cosmic jester's chain, a sixth orb emitting a vague violet glow. They vaguely recalled a remark Mal had made on the orbs. They represent some rather troublesome edge dwellers I've devoured. They didn't bother to count the orbs beforehand to make sure, but they were certain no other Edge-dwellers apart from the two were present.
"Very well," declared John, dispelling the mist of contemplation surrounding his compadres. "Lead the way, Vargas. There'll be plenty of time to chat along the way."

The return to mistral...

“Yeah...I still find it odd that a God would ask us for assistance. Still, if What Maxwell says is true she could rebuild Grand Gaia...But, that’s enough thinking from me. We are back in Mistral everyone! Brings back memories like the time at that tower...I cut it close there...I can almost remember it like yesterday. Fun times, let’s hope we don’t run into Kira this time around. He won’t be assisting us this time around probaly.” Vargas spoke as they arrived back in the Mistral region.

They had a ways to go to reach St.Lamia, but for now they could start eliminating any hostiles in the area. ”Many places bring back old memories...Still remember old freinds. I remember meeting a fiery woman who used to beat me in battle when I was younger. She ended up giving me a special gift when we became allies against the gods...Agh...I sound like an old man! I still have many years ahead of me!” The fiery headed warrior shook his head to erase the image of an older version of himself.

Special gift? Skitters looks in curiousity at the fiery swordsman.

"Old man? Funny coming from one who still seems quite young," she says with a giggle, squinting her eyes and holding her hands over where her mouth would be. "Then again, I suppose I'm not a good judge for age, as I've forgotten even my own!" she continues, bonking her own head playfully. "Oh! But do go on, I do love a story! Um, and Skitters is curious about that gift."

Skitters, infuriated, flails her paws at Owru. Do that only do that when I want you to! Don't just... blurt out everything I'm thinking! Owru's eyes open wide and her antennae stand up straight, before cowering as if she had been verbally chastised.

"S-sorry..!"

The band of misfits would blink and look around them. That was funny. Weren't they in Agni a moment ago? They put it down to whatever they were drinking on their way to Mistral.
"Oh trust me, lad," John would say to Vargas as he attributed his recollection of his past to old age. "I must be about 70 or 80 years older than you. I've experienced more wars than you could possibly live through. Back in my time of living, we had none of those electric transformers or digital televisions. Although I was only able to live up to the age of 18 due to, er, fraternal difficulties," (as he says so, he would briefly exchange glances with his now deathly silent brother), "I must act as if I was in my 60s."
"I agree," smirked Max. "Sometimes he acts like our grandpa."
"Exactly! I hear other of the deceased claim that death is but a sleep, and, spiritually, this is possibly true. In my opinion, however, it is finally waking up to the world around you. It's amazing how inefficient a bag of grey tissue is for thinking, if you don't mind me saying."
The gang would take in their surroundings yet again. Back in Mistral, where lied the Tower of Maxwell. Last time they were there, it exploded, so they were not sure whether it had been rebuilt or left in it's damaged state. It was about time to find out.

Just hearing the skeletons say they were just near a decade older then him did not help. If he was that young and they were that old...Please don’t let him be reborn as an old man skeleton...He better make his youth last as long as possible!

Speaking off topic now...It seemed Orwu and...Skitters? That was the name of the Racoon beast? Well regardless they were curious about his gift he received. ”Well, I got some time before we arrive to the tower. Well then, I’ll tell you about the gift I received and the story behind it...Rather, I’ll also show you it.” Vargas spoke as he gave a firm nod. After speaking, a pair of red fiery wings appeared on his back.

”When I was much younger and still an inexperienced fighter always training myself...I still consider myself lacking in experience these days...Anyways, When I was young I won many battles back in my days before the war of the gods began. Ever since I was a kid, my father had saved me from a beast and I watched him slay such a massive beast withot any trouble. Ever since then I wanted to be a knight like my father.”

”Anyways, one day I came across a strange swordswoman who challenged me to a duel. For the first time starting out, I had found my match...Or rather an opponent who was more better than me. Our duel was intense, however ultimately I was beaten. After that, I disappeared to undergo intense training by myself to become a wanderer.”

”Well, ever since that day I heard that woman was looking for me for another re-match...Of course we could never do that since the war of the gods happened. After my intense training, I immediantly took to the front lines and began to fight the gods head on. It was a few brutal years of battle, however I found myself in the middle of the God army along with the Gods themselves. I was terribly injured, and I thought I died in battle until I heard a familiar voice. That swordwoman’s voice...She gave me these wings as a gift, and my life returned once more but I never saw or heard from her again.”

”In the end, I encountered an unknown knight...And dueled him since he was after my life. I though I was slain but I was mortally wounded instead...All I know was...These wings and my sword have set my soul ablaze with a passion for battle. I will not forget that swordwoman who bestowed these red hot wings to continue my fight. And that I guess is the story about my gift.” Vargas finished speaking with a final nod and smile.

For all he knows, she probably traded her life for his, Skitters thought, shaking her head. Owru glances back, a bit of a concerned look in her eyes. Still, suppose what my body needs is simply an intense situation like that to really awaken the physical side of my metamorphosis.

"Well, listen to you, sounds almost like you are a fanboy of sorts," Mal comments with a laugh.

"Who knows what the future holds, maybe you'll get the chance to return the favor someday, Owru says, squinting her eyes in an attempt to convey a smile.

They would listen to Vargas' story. When he was getting to grips with combat, a far more experienced swordswoman challenged him to an evidently one-sided duel, which set the young warrior onto training himself further. He fought in the war against the Gods and nearly died if it hadn't been for deus ex machina in the form of the swordswoman granting him the wings of fire and a sword. So that was the gift he mentioned before.
"Very well told, Vargas," said John. "It seems you were chosen on that battlefield as hero material. Any other sod on the battlefield would have been mowed down and that would've been the end of him, but you got a second chance. In a sense, me and Adam were also given a second chance, probably because we were a pair of arrogant aristocrats who did not see the big picture, and, I don't mind telling you this, were unjustly murdered by our fellow brother. Perhaps we were given an opportunity to make a fresh start and, if possible, to kill the bastard whenever we can. You see, there are higher beings that elect the likes of us, so I expect you are grateful."
The Chosen Few had something else on their mind. They knew next time the Darkness were not going to settle their footholds in as a conspicuous location as in Agni. They might emerge in high-climbing forests or even underground where no-one could find them. Although they were certain that, since an army of Darklings couldn't push over a stack of matches, the residents of Grand Gaia could hold off the demons, they also know it was their job to tear down the portals themselves, because as ineffectual as the Army is, they have certain elite demons capable to wiping out entire armies. The Darkness have got contacts with some very powerful entities, some thousands of years old, like a mafia godfather who "knows a guy" called The Butcher. It was only a matter of time.

Vargas smiled brightly as he heard his compatriots speak to him. Orwu giving him a smile and telling him he could repay the favor, and John telling him he was given a chance at Another life. Along with a bit of backstory about him and Adam getting a second life as well. ”All your guys words are going to make me blush! Come on...But I agree, I always look to the future. With this second life I was given I have the gods more of a reason to fear my name! And now I still continue to protect Grand Gaia to this day...And yes, I admire my father. He is still more stronger than me no doubt...But I’m going to live up to a knights expectations.” He gave a firm nod as he continued to walk.

Soon enough, they spotted the tower that had once been destroyed. Restored after Kira destroyed it. It was almost if nothing ever happened in the first place...Pretty amazing to fix the whole area...Still, they had their way to St. Lamia now.

"And here I was worried I'd end up with the bill," the jester jokes with a laugh, looking at the renewed tower.

"Wonder if we'll have to fight through the guards again," Owru says, pondering.

Skitters stares silently. Seriously? You know this person and they don't even bother to turn off security? Ughhh... of course not, silly me! That'd make too much sense! Rolling her eyes she continues towards the tower, sighing.

"Looks like someone's having a bad fur day," Mal quips, following along. Owru follows behind as well looking back to the others.

"Y'know... I... would have figured villains to be more... concerned about us gathering forces..?" She says, curling her antennae into question marks.

"Amazing that Maxwell took the time to rebuild the tower," quipped Fancy.

"Yeah, considering that it has no apparent purpose whatsoever," replied Max.

"I would have guessed that Maxwell could easily rebuild the damn thing," muttered John.

Lo and behold, the tower stood just as it had before the astral jester blew it up in a fit of rage. Hopefully Maxwell would have cut out the demon armies so they could get to her quicker.

John turned to Owru when she mentioned the absence of the Darkness. "I would not think they would be so hasty as to approach a Creator," said John. "Beings of shadow tend to not mix well with those of Order. A Darkling would evaporate if it got within twenty yards of a Creator. No, I bet they're bidding their time." As he said this, he would continue walking towards the tower, tailed by his four amigos.