Knight's Log 9-4-12


The Land of Grit and Lamps is a land that resembles the world of any number of gritty crime dramas, or Sin City. On a world covered with dark, thick, impassible SMOG in all but a single corner, there is still life. Inhabited by the criminal race of red crocodiles, the NAKKADILES, LOGAL is a dreary place. But within the dreariness is light. Within all the obfuscation is revelation. Within the world the Nakkadiles fight the UNDERLING SECURITY FORCES, a harsh police state that lives within the perpetual darkness. The criminals are branded as such because literally EVERYTHING IS A CRIME within LOGAL. The mafia lifestyle is all the bands the wayward crocodillian souls together.

The SLUM DISTRICT, where the gate is, has gone from a place of oppression to the first bastion of hope within the gritty land. Roaring 20's era fashion seems to be the predominant clothing style. Jackets of varying colors, fedoras, pageboy hats and button-up shirts, ties and suspenders. There are some consistent themes within colors - There is a fair number of black clothed suited individuals, with black fedoras and silver hatbands. There are also other colors - those of Laer, of Eila, of Nue, Arthur, and Psyber's, working with those that simply wear grey on grey, or a mix of random colors. There is a general sense of 'affiliation' that is not spoken but understood. Some HARDENED NAKKADILES seem to have taken up points of officiation, distributing themselves through the other groups as mentors.

The Power Plant, and the Slum Basement, the two LANDMARKS of the SLUM DISTRICT are now happening locations, the SLUM BASEMENT becoming the base of operations for the black-and-silver-hat-band crew, who direct the others around, as well as greeting newcomers. Most are reverently referred to as BOSS or DON, and soon anyone who enters would have their color-appropriate crew rejoining them, or have a crew spontaneously form out of the greycoats and the hodgepodge color groups. In fact, several clothing shops have opened all along the SLUMS area catering to the clothing-affiliation crowd.

The main crowd of the SLUM BASEMENT SPEAKEASY as it's become, is a Nakkey Bartender, the Black-and-Silvers, and a crew of TOUGH-LOOKIN' SUITS…

These are the Nakkadile Lieutenants, who quickly attach themselves annoyingly to their respective DON with alarming rapidity… And annoying 'naknaknak' briefings on the STATE OF THINGS that are utterly unintelligible.

Tshallandria is sitting at one of the bar stools chatting with the bartender, "My… This place is different. So, You're hiding and fighting a giant oppressive police force?" She taps her temple and sips … Whatever drink was placed in front of her. "Lets talk about helping your people if possible…"

Her lips shift into an easy friendly grin, "First, are there any supplies that you and yours might require, food, drink, stills, weapons, armor, guardians, or other things? …Feel free to ask, no matter how outlandish it may seem, because there is always the possibility that we could trade for something."

And her grin shifts to a much more predatory one, "And my other question… …What would you like us to destroy of theirs?"

Eila Ilmatar Juutilainen strolls into the SPEAKEASY with a 20s fedora cocked slightly to the side, along with a grey pinstriped suit jacket. LOGAL's slightly outdated fashion sense has been a point of amusement for her in the past, but she has strangely become acclimated to it. It's worth noting that her outfit seems to be lacking pants, but her jacket goes down far enough to cover her about as much as a skirt would.

She leans against the bar, close to her own Lieutenant, holding a guitar case which may or may not contain a danmaku tommygun inside. To her own underling, she says, "Alright, Big Nak. Fill me in. What's been going on here recently?"

Eila's eyes glance around at the other bar patrons. The Black-and-Silvers catch her eyes. What's /their/ story, she wonders, while peering at them from across the room.

Grendel fills Tshallandria in. He fills her in all about how they're not really hiding, this is just the BEST SPEAKEASY IN TOWN, and placed what can only be described as FOUL ENGINE DEGREASER in a TIN CAN before Tshallandria, the alcohol being UTTERLY UNBEARABLE and also EXTREMELY UNHEALTHY. Tshallandria's LIVER takes a -1 penalty due to HOW FOUL that stuff is.

He also relates that it SURE IS DARK and that there's some FUGITIVES. But they're totally happy with the ALCOHOL offered here at the SLUM BASEMENT SPEAKEASY. It's the best!

He does note that the FAT CATS have holed up in the LOGAL STOCK MARKET EXCHANGE (or, LOGALSE)

======> Vruasa: Accelerate way too much

"… God dammit." Vruasa Telash exclaims as he suddenly materializes in the SLUM BASEMENT SPEAKESY, looking /very confused/. He had been incredibly bored with the situation back home, so he decided to hit the fast-forward button. Unfortunately he'd gone a bit too far without paying attention to what was going on without him, and that has some serious drawbacks. For example, he has no idea why the hell he's here. Or why he's wearing this black-and-blue hat which hatgirl gave to him. Maybe he intended to come retrieve that SECRET THING when he headed in this direction.

Unfortunately, he's just not certain at this point.

Well, just based on the way this place looks he can tell that it is in hatgirl's world. Nobody else's seems to have this weird film noir thing going for it. Instead of doing the reasonable thing and calmly assessing the situation, he grabs the nearest Nakkadile by the suspender and demands, "WHERE AM I?"

Because there is no way that could possibly get him in trouble in a strange and unfamiliar place.

PSYBER, known as Don Psyber, or sometimes 'The Foreman', appears in a stylish and un-Noir fashion. There's a lazy swirl of light in the Foreman's office and he appears, wearing his suit and his fedora with the red-accent. He reaches up and professionally adjusts the tie around his neck. There's an idle doff as he brushes his shoulder and says, "Well then. Been a while since I stepped in here to be the Big Cheese. Better go check in at the bar. See what the buzz on the line has been at the Juice Joint."

He reaches to his coat and checks for a piece, nodding as he feels the revolver he holds there and then adjusts the hat, pulling it down over his eyes. There's a calm and deliberateness as he exits his office, his own mafia parting around him and probably sending word ahead to his lieutenant that the BIG GUY was back in the fire. And after a short jaunt, and without a moments hesitation, the half-angel stops outside the SLUMS BASEMENT SPEAKEASY. He takes a cigar out of the breast pocket of his jacket and then extracts a butterfly knife from the side pocket of his coat. With a lazy few swishes, he cuts the back and front ends off, sniffing the cigar idly before putting it in his mouth. A moment later, he steps through the front door with the TOTALLY BADASS STOAGIE in his mouth, and he exhales smoke.

As the lieutenant runs up to him, Psyber raises his hand, "Woah, Nak Kapone. You ossified, ya damn lizard? Lemme get some Hair of the Dog before I get to business." Psyber steps away from the lizard. He hooks a chair with his foot and slides it all the way across the floor, bringing it to a step in front of the table with the Nakkadiles playing cards, "Nak. Fill me in on the business. You four." Psyber says as he drops down into the chair and cocks his hat, staring at the silver-and-blacks and says.

"Deal me in, yeah? And let's all keep our hands above the table while the cards are bein' tossed."

==> Prorth: Explore the Land of Grit and Lamps.

Alright, fine. He guessed he could fit in here. The Sharp-Dressed Troll has shed the overrobe of his attire, leaving him in a tux. A sharp tux. Black, trimmed in indigo, blue tie. White ruffle shirt. He looks fly. Tuxedo Troll. And then, suddenly… NAKNAKNAK!

"What the…" he ponders aloud, looking over at his Nakkadile Lieutenant, Nak King Kole. "What the hell is this? You. Run down." He waves a hand at the bartender, who naks back at him. Whatever. That accomplished a lot. Maybe he could send out a shard of his personality. One of those Black-and-Silvers looks like a suitable target. Maybe he could help the guy not suck at cards. Who knows.

==> Press for information. Also try and fanagle into a card game.

BIG NAK, who is called such because he is a BIG Nakkadile (by being slightly bigger and more rotund then the rest) fills Eila in about how the CREW has spread out, the HARDENED NAKKADILES exporting their services to the OTHER FAMILIES, making her a neat BOONDOLLAR PROFIT and starting what can only be described as a 'mentorship racket'. It's like a protection racket, but instead of not breaking kneecaps they just don't teach the other nakkadiles how to be badasses. SOME might call this TEACHING, but everything's a RACKET in LOGAL. So keep it on the down-low, y'nak?

Also, Big Nak whispers (and by that we mean speaks at a normal volume right in her ear which is potentially annoying as shit) that the Black-And-Silvers seem to be TOTALLY DON-LESS but are SURPRISINGLY GOOD AT CARDS, naknak.


A small, apparently human girl in all black materializes in the SLUM BASEMENT SPEAKEASY, right in the middle of the room, with a scattering of small purple particles. Realizing she's in the middle of a crowd, the girl immediately reaches up and tugs her hood down to obscure her face, shuffling out of the way where it'll be harder to look right at her.

As if acting with minds of their own, the ends of her scarf reach out into the crowd of assorted Nakkadiles, then return to her with a black fedora sporting a vibrant purple band. This, amusingly, is set on top of her hoodie's hood and does nothing to help keep people from looking at her.

In her scurrying, Endria glances up just enough to scan for familiar faces. After a moment—



—Endria teleports to Psyber and interposes him between herself and the most of the rest of the Speakeasy.

Arthur has less to worry about nowadays when it comes to navigating here. Flight, finally accessible, even though it comes by way of alchemized rocket-broom. His arrival would similarly have happened some time ago, being a native player. He also acts in a way that's a whole lot less stressed out and enraged than the last time he visited here. Maybe it's not entirely reasonable to try and defy sequences like this, but he might as well check in on things he established. He's eager to see if his steelmouthed crocoile helper has been keeping the police station in his hands, and whether that horrible abuse of gravity he did has been repaired.

Hanging out with Tshallandria is an experience, at the very least. He gets the feeling he should actually start getting to know the person who seems to be intent on training him into some kind of mage. He gets the feeling things are going to be awkward since he got that new magic broom. And then! Visitors, the sort that arrive all at once, because that's how adventuring parties work. There's Vruasa, who he waves at from behind the croc who was just grabbed. He's sitting at one of the tables. Despite the sudden appearance of Endria, and the abrupt arrivals of the others (oh, man, is that that new troll? Oh, there's Eila, Arthur recalls he hasn't seen her much before), he can work on calming Vruasa down. "Land of Grit and Lamps." He says, waving. No need to panic, go with the noir thing. Aliens have noir movies, right? Do you have a Troll William Holden? Never mind, anyway, man, stop shouting. I'm pretty sure it's incredibly illegal." And he's back to talking to his steel-mouthed friend, who he's hoping against hope doesn't have any kind of speech disorder as a result of his absurd teeth.

Nakson, who wears a hat identical to Vruasa, and also a pair of CLASSY SHADES which look INCREDIBLY COOL, is picked up and shaked viciously by his DON. This causes a distraught series of 'Naaaaaaa—a-a-ak' as he wobbles, his teeth clacking against themselves as he looks dazed.

"BOSS! You're in LOGAL, BOSS!" Nakson also gets a wicked toothy grin and offers Vruasa a CHEAP KNOCKOFF WATCH. "I nakked a buncha these from the cops, naknak! Here's your cut, BOSS!"

The CHEAP KNOCKOFF WATCH relates strangely to Vruasa that it is indeed… 11'o'Dark-thirty. However her figures that out. It also appears to be BROKEN.

Psyber SITS DOWN at the table, with Nak Kapone lighting up his own STOGIE and chewing it classily between his teeth as he runs over and slides Psyber some TIN CAN MOONSHINE, the most horrible alcohol ever conceived. Psyber seems to sit down at the table and from that action alone win a hand, before he's even dealt cards. HOLY FUCK ARE NAKKADILES BAD AT CARDS.

With this, comes information. "Those FAT CATS, naknak… They're STEALING ALL THE MONEY. Naknak it's illegal to have any."

Psyber proceeds to clean out the table in a few hands, raking in a sum total of SEVEN BOONDOLLARS in his INCREDIBLE WINNINGS, before the nakkadiles start playing for bottlecaps and paperclips.

Eila winces at Big Nak's lack of proper volume control. His lack of tact is a bit cringe-worthy as well, but aside from an unamused blank stare she doesn't react very much. "Don-less? Is that so…" she says, considering Big Nak's words.

While she's watching them, she notices Psyber sit down, and notices Endria in her peripheral vision. With a smirk, Eila undoes the latches of her giant guitar case, and produces a DANMAKU TOMMYGUN which she's been carrying around. Sneaking up behind Psyber, she tries to put the barrel of the gun right up to his back.

Deepening her voice in a way to make it harder to recognize (which may or may not work), Eila addresses the half-angel by saying, "You gotta lotta nurve, showin' yer face 'round here, Don. The bois and I hav' somthin' to say to ya… Just rais' yer hands and turn aroun' real eazy-like."

The look on Eila's face, should Psyber see it, would make it clear that she's just playing with him, though she's half-expecting some kind of… outlandish response from him.

Tshallandria's right eye narrows. Her left eye twiches and her expression shifts slight. A bit like someone just punched her in the liver. This is some swill. "Oh my…" She remarks while eyeing the drink, and then mentally giving kudos to the tin can holding it, for not just plain outright dissolving. "I can see why your people might think that it's an excellent drink. It's certainly strong enough to be used as a weapon… …Just pour some of it on something and toss a match."

Grendel gets a smile, "So you want something that can generate light? If you have an alchemiter nearby… …We can…" She pauses, then concentrates on a pendant for a moment… …Then she slahes the air with her left hand, and reaches into the resulting rift, before pulling a small box… …A box containing about fiften glowing peices of quartz. With adjustable lightning levels, and colors. (But no lavalamp setting. That'd get everyone of the little Nakkers killed.) "Hopefully this will help some, but in the meantime, Why dont' you give me a bit more directions to where those fat cats are?"

Endernak appears to be sitting broodily in the corner, his hat tipped in a jaunty and face-covering way. This also means that he doesn't SEE SHIT and actually takes a moment to notice Endria's arrival! This is relegated by the fact that she doesn't really ask him anything, so he just waves his glowing REDSTONE SWORDS at everyone in the room to make sure they don't look at his DON.

This serves to make basically everyone there look at him. And her.

He's HELPING, Naknakvoipnak.

"Hey PB." Vruasa answers Arthur, completely reflexively. He doesn't actually register that he's there. Quickly enough, both Nakson and Arthur are working on calming him down… and it really doesn't take long. The fact that the color blue is not cool in this world doesn't seem to really register to the knight, though he is still convinced that his shade of blue is way better than Prorth's, hemospectrum be damned. After all. It is /his/ shade of blue, and he is absolutely fucking awesome. After a moment he answers, "Technically our equivalent of what humans call a noir film is filmed in /incredibly vibrant colors/. It is exactly the opposite of this shit. Because… uh… well, fucking look at me, I already look like I belong in this place."

As a matter of fact, he does. Even in the color lights, he has minimal color to him relative to the other people present.

This, presumably, is why Fiora finds him to be exceptionally awesome. Not a good time to think about that, though. One-handed and without hesitation he carries Nakson over towards Arthur, putting him down and accepting the CHEAP KNOCKOFF WATCH without a second glance. He puts it on, because the perspective of time it gives him doesn't fucking matter with all of these time shenanigans he goes through.

"OKAY THANKS NAKSON. Wait, when the hell did I become a DON here? Did I fucking fast forward through doing a bunch of cool shit?"

A glance from Nakson towards Arthur.

"Yes, that is a thing that can happen with these fucking time shenanigans. Avoid them like whatever humans avoid. Barbara Streisand I guess???" Despite his apparent knowledge much of the time, Vruasa is still pretty human-dumb in a lot of ways.

Psyber seems to have a contender, as PRORTH sits down at the table, as Nak King Cole rubs his shoulders and gives him a run-down. The run-down involves him running around while also trying to give him a backrub, and bring him a drink, and basically be the perfect toadie.

After setting Prorth up with the FORTUNE of five boondollars and a cup of AN HEROCAN MOONSHINE, he relates. "BOSS! There's some FAT CATS that nak at the moneyplace!" He relates, before…

The shard of himself sort of bounces off the Black-and-silver. There's a pause, as the nakkadile looks vaguely stunned for a moment, going glassy-eyed…

Then he sort of naks a bit and gets back to losing at bottlecap poker.

JAWS approaches Arthur, and gnashes his teeth a bit, a permanent steely grin on his nakkey face.

"Hrrrrrr" It relates meaningfully to Arthur, which he can piece out as 'Sorry boss, naknak, lost the station, nak nak, no money."

Yes, JAWS cannot speak. He simply makes himself understood by grinning and grunting, and Arthur can somehow understand it.

Psyber rakes in his mighty bounty of seven whole boondollars, which he puts into his jacket to save for a contextually relevant moment in time at some point down the line. He shuffles his cards and sips from the TIN CAN MOONSHINE before looking around at the naks, "Who's stealing all the money? Who in the hell is making it illegal for me to have cash?"

He turns his head towards Nak Kapone, exhaling a plume of smoke up into the air, "You tell me where they are and I'll go handle the rest." He looks at the other four at the table, "What about you. You being shaken down too, bo-"

When he feels the tommy gun against the back of his neck, he raises his hands, "Oooh, the dashing and beautiful Don Eila has gotten the drop on me. How incredibly unfortunate. I curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal." He states, before tilting his head backwards, red eyes staring up at her with a bright smile around his cigar, careful not to blow smoke at her, "Hey Fox. How've you been?"

With a roll of his neck, he asks, "You hear about this shakedown? I think we should go check it out." He states, standing up and wholly disregarding Prorth when he joins the table.

Thankfully, a small girl has little trouble hiding behind Endernak, even though Nakkadiles aren't all that big either. Endria peeks around the broody gangster, then peeks up at his mostly-obscured face. After a moment, Endria ducks back behind Endernak and turns her eyes to the ceiling.

"…Illegal to have money…" she says softly, "…If everyone is a crook here…then we should get lots of money too." She turns her head towards Endernak again, "…We could take it from those people nobody seems to like. ..Where do they keep it?"

The late arrival has been around the session for only a little while. Still, he knows what kind of town he's headed into, from the look of this place.

Loros has chosen to accessorize his usual outfit with a heavy Chicago overcoat. Cupping his hands around his face as he steps through the door, a flicker of fire visible before he takes a long draw on his cigarette. The overcoat, which rests only on his shoulders with empty sleeves, billows a bit in the breeze made by the warm interior air headed out into the outside.

Tipping his hat back with one finger, he sweeps the room with his gaze, and chuckles softly.

==> Prorth: Join game.

Like hell. Not with that candy-hatted ass. He hovers around the table, noting the failure of his personality embedding. No matter. It wasn't a major thing. He appreciated the drink, but immediately rebuffs the massage attempt. "Fat Cats?" Prorth says, "At the moneyplace? Lead the way." His shard, in the meantime, is on its way toward another Nakkadile. This one was just in the bar, luckily facing in the direction of the poker table. He picks up his drink, his pistol slipping out of his sleeve and into his hand from his specibus. "You stay right the hell here," he snarls at Psyber. "I will go, and you will not return if you follow. Consider that your second to last warning."

He sniffs at the drink, then leaves it on the table. "Let's go, Nak," he says, his horns glinting in the low light. He hopes the Nakkadile keeps focused on Psyber, and his shard doesn't bounce off. He places his finger on the trigger of his pistol, waiting.

Nue is fashionably late. The youkai girl wanders into the SPEAKEASY, dressed in a long black coat and a black fedora with a red band tipped to cover her eyes. Her blue and red tentacle-wings hug around her coat to rest on the front of her body, red scythes on one side and blue prongs on the other. And, of course, a cloud of darkness that hovers around her legs as she walks in.

She stops once inside, glancing around at the current occupants of the area as if she can actually see under that cool-ridiculous jaunty hat of hers. After a bit, she raises her hand and just shouts, "NAKKIE, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

Getting straight to the point, it seems.

======> State Cold Reality

Psyber tilts his head sideways when he has a gun drawn on him. The half-angel gently reaches up with an index finger and pushes up the rim of the hat. He lets his red eyes flash as he stares down the man who just drew a gun on him. In a single instant, the entire roleplay and fun vanishes, replaced by a cold factuality.

"Small Son, you are pointing a gun at me. Assuming you shoot me and I die, that still leaves my lieutenant, Don Fox, her Lieutenant, Don Endria, and HER Lieutenant. This is in the unlikely event that your bullet kills me. It probably won't, which means that's also me. None of us will be very happy you shot me. Now that places our six against you, your friend there, and maybe the guy with the spear and his friend if he feels jealous. That's six versus four. Or, more seriously, it's three versus two."

The half-angel brushes back his suit jacket and puts his hand on his own revolver, "For the sake of your own continued existence on this mortal coil, lower your gun and just walk away. I don't want your weird-colored blood on my suit."

"Okay, so, this whole cultural thing you're probably going to be missing in this, a lot of stuff that won't make any sense. But I guess when I inevitably come around to hang out on your weird troll-game-planet I'll get the same thing happening. Or, wait, will I? I don't know how this works." Arthur says, frowning a bit at the end. "Screw it. Anyway, just sort of keep it down. You know, be the cool guy who doesn't do any yelling, maybe internally narrate." Arthur pauses, as if he's doing exactly that, when he's snapped out of it by his lieutenant.

"Money?" Arthur says, tilting his head. "I'm assuming we're paying someone here. No, I mean we're not paying someone here. Who exactly are we busy not paying?" He attempts to be as dramatic as possible about this. It is somewhat deflated by the fact that several other people are doing exactly the same thing elsewhere, and being vastly more effective. He'll be content to, in this little corner of the room, find more out about the situation. "I got that place cleared out fair and square, who are we not paying? Is this an eviction or what? Hell, why are we not paying? I am pretty sure that last I checked the police were definitely in the business of taking bribes, did we shut down the whole bribe-taking thing?"


Nak King Kole and Nak Kapone start staring daggers at each other, both drawing RUSTY SHANKS and waving them at the other. Because this shit is SO ON. You don't even mothernakking kno-

Oh, wait, Prorth is leaving. The shard enters the INNOCENT BYNAKKER, who seems to go still for a moment and then is successfully inhabited by Prorth's INCREDIBLE POWER

Endernak stops waving his swords around and nods. He even gives his DON a big smile before realizing that smiles aren't broody and then frowns at her loyally. "Yep, boss. Nakvoipnaknak, in the Stock Exchange. Market District. I've got the nakkest place for peepin eyes in the whole nakkin' city." He offers Endria EXTREME BODYBLOCKING COVER from PRYING EYES as he leads her OUTSIDE.

NAKKIE appears from under the poker table with a handful of ONE boondollar and hands it to Nue. "Got a nak score, boss! They dropped a boondollar naknaknak so I beat up like thirty guys for it. Naknak totally nak." He puffs himself up, before waving the boondollar around meaningfully.

"Buncha Fat Nakkin' Cats cuttin in on your turf, BOSS! In the STOCK EXCHANGE, naknak."

Eventually, ALL the lieutenants would confer that the STOCK EXCHANGE is full of FAT CATS and that they made MONEY ILLEGAL.

This is cutting into your profits! Because nobody can BRIBE you. Also, the economy kind of sucks. And by sucks we mean nonexistant.

Eila gives Psyber a mischievious grin as they make eye contact. "Been alright. Confused, especially about things happening around here, but alright." Her tommy's barrel drops as the automatic weapon hangs at her side. Listening to Psyber's question, and Endria's response, Eila says, "I haven't heard much, honestly. All I've heard about is something like a 'mentorship racket' which our own people seem to be doing."

Eila watches the exchange between Prorth and Psyber quietly. She considers whether he's potentially dangerous or just loud and angry. Well, if something /did/ go down and Eila had to pick sides, Psyber's assessment of her loyalty would be pretty accurate. But at the same time…

She isn't partial to getting into a fight with everyone who runs their mouth…

"I think it'd be best if we all just walked away from this. Before it gets out of hand…"

Back to Psyber, she says, "Hey, I think we should go check out this Stock Exchange thing. It sounds like a problem."

Perfect. The shard is in place. All he needs is the eyes, but that glass infront of the BYNAKKER will help him.

==> Prorth: Start the show.

The BYNAKKER flings his glass at Psyber in a flash. Watching through the eyes of the shard, Prorth closes his own, raising his pistol at last. Just before the glass would've hit Psyber, there's a ringing report. With his back turned, the Troll fires a blind shot while walking toward the exit. The bullet? Strikes true. It smashes the glass in Psyber's face.

"And THAT. That is your final warning," he says, not turning back. He opens his eyes, keeping his mind divided between his eyes and the shard as Nak King Kole leads the way toward the SLUM GATE. "Let's go to the moneyplace before I blast a human in the face."

Black-and-blues begin scuffling in the streets with Black-and-reds as Prorth passes, the arguments turning violent and weapons being drawn as the nakkadiles start beaing each other up.

This seems to organically develop as Prorth shoots the glass into Psyber's face.

Endria pauses when Endernak starts moving, "…Peeping eyes…" He must mean a good place to spy on people. That sounds useful. A gunshot goes off, prompting the endergirl to disappear instantly in a flash of purple particles and a startled squeaking noise.


However, when Endernak exits the SPEAKEASY, Endria's right there by the door outside, waiting for him. "…Um." She glances towards the interior of the illegal bar, then back to Endernak, "…I think we should go. So. Show me."

"My world is completely fucking normal and awesome, you will like it. It is the LAND OF GOLD AND GLORY." Vruasa replies to Arthur, offering him a fangy smile. This probably comes off as threatening instead of friendly, as usual. Still, the LOGAG isn't actually all that normal from a human perspective. It's actually PRETTY VIOLENT. This scene isn't about the troll session though, so we're just going to keep you in suspense until somebody runs that plot. His attention returns to Nakson, who is giving him a run-down on what the hell is going on here.

He really has no idea what the fuck is going on, except that apparently boondollars are outlawed now by some 'fat cats.'

In the meantime Prorth is doing something VERY UNWISE, but Vruasa is too absorbed in figuring out how he's supposed to solve this crisis. He's also still carrying Nakson around by the suspenders. There are a few options here, one of which is 'murder the fuck out of the fatcats.' The other is…

"Okay, I have an idea. Nakson, I need to know what the /hottest commodity in town is/. What does EVERYONE want, except for cold, hard cash?" For some reason, he expects that it is /booze/.

"Right. Awesome. That's absolutely spiffy." Nue sighs and raises a hand to nab the dollar from her Lieutenant, stuffing it into a pocket before using that same hand to flick the nakkadile's hat. "Next time you beat up thirty guys for ONE STINKING DOLLAR then TAKE THEIR MONEY TOO, you dumbass!"

The youkai stuffs her hands into her pockets and shakes her head slightly, taking a moment to listen to Hell-Cat Nakkie's exposition. "…oh goddammit all. Are you kidding me?" Nue raises her hands in annoyance before letting them drop to her sides again as she turns to walk out of the place again. "I leave you guys alone for I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG and you lose all the damn money! What the hell, Nakkie! Next time I'm going to dangle you by your tail off some ridiculously high building, I /swear/! Now come on, we're going to go murder us some FAT CATS."

She glances back briefly at the sound of gunfire, then just shakes her head and wanders back out into the slums. "Goddamn barbarians, I swear. Nobody in this town's got any class."

something something pot, something kettle

"NAKKIE! Where the hell are these fat cats so I can stab them in the face," Nue shouts over her shoulder at her Lieutenant as she moves outside.


"Boss, naknak, the hottest product nak is black clothes! Every DON wears BLACK so naknak it's really rare to get a full suit in it. Only the RICHEST can get BLACK, naknaknak."

This appears to be true, as it's only the lieutenants that seem to have full suits, others using black hats with white shirts and suspenders or even just a black armband of torn cloth. Repping your DON sure is hard when everyone wears the SAME COLOR!

"Yeah, Eila. Maybe you, me and Endria should check it o-" CRACK. There's a gunshot, shattering glass, and one of his friends has vanished.

There's hardly a flinch from the half-angel when the glass smashes in his face. Even as the shards if it cascade across him, shredding both his flesh and the stogie he had between his lips. Psyber spits out the torn remnants, and then takes a hankerchief out of the breast pocket of his jacket and calmly wipes off his face, letting regen push the shards of glass out.

He turns his head towards the four Nakkadiles playing cards as he cleans his face and says, "So. How come you four have no side yet?" In an idly inquiry, instead of chasing after violence, electing to exploit the asset carelessly discarded, "Or is it just that your boss hasn't shown face yet?"

And then, finally, he turns to Eila, handing off the hankerchief to Nak Kapone, "Nak. You're my favorite and I trust you. I want you to go with Eila while I stay here and talk to these four. Get our guys on the street and I'll catch up after I get cleaned up a bit. Need to keep my style up, unlike some uncivilized people." He even goes so far as to pat Nak Kapone on the head a couple times and hand him back the seven boondollars.

Wow. Did the Troll just do that? Really?

Well that's it. You don't aim a gun at a Suomus's soldier's ally and then get no response. It's just not something that happens. So when Eila sees the glass explode in Psyber's face, her fox ears and tail appear. She sets the danmaku tommygun aside, leaving it on the ground. That's a weapon for holding back, which isn't something Eila is about to do.

It's a bit too late for her precognition to do anything about the glass in Psyber's face, but it'll probably give her a bit of warning if Prorth decides to counter-attack. Eila rushes towards the troll without waiting, circling around ahead of him, balling her hands into a fist and swinging it right in the trolls face.

Regardless of his response, Eila says, "Stand down. I /really/ don't wanna hurt you."

"Sounds… Sounds rad. Yeah." Arthur blusters his way desperately through the unintentional intimidation of Vruasa's fangs. "Glory is great. It is definitely a different kind of coolness, if you look at it in a certain way. So there's absolutely no way I could dislike what you're talking about here."

"Alright, so. Stock exchange it is, then. Someone forgot their one-month notice on this, time to go ruin the hell out of some fat cat faces." Arthur's on his way out too. It looks like the others are as well. Passing out of the SLUM BASEMENT through what is undoubtedly a legitimate storefront or perhaps right out into the street, he waves to Vruasa. "Looks like you've got a way of working out the problems with your finances. Not a finance-minded guy myself, I'll leave it to you. I'll give you a shout before the whole market floods with money again, you do economic things if that's what you're going for," He snaps both hands and points. "And then you make a killing, which would probably be great. Right now I'm going to go see a stock exchange about a cat."

And he's off towards the slum gate! Nue seems to be heading that way too, and he's waving to her and catching up. Good timing, it looks like things just got chaotic at the slum basement, so he's booking it out of here with Jaws. He also waves over to Tshallandria, waving her over. "Police station this end, if I remember right. No way a stock exchange is anywhere but in the maret district. Let's move through. You going after those places too?"

Spontaneously, Eila's Nakkadiles start joining in the battle, and a few of the Hardened Nakkadiles emerge from the woodwork bearing DECENT WEAPONRY. Shoot-outs begin in the streets. A few SLUM DISTRICT homes get shot up in the confusion.

Nobody is hurt so far. Because Nakkadiles can take a few RUSTY SHANK stab wounds or bulletholes and survive. They're durable.


Grendel takes the BOX OF GLOWY STUFF and immediately runs off. Tshallandria remains dimly aware that she is somehow gaining in… Something. Rep? Maybe. She feels more self-assured if that was even a question.

Misunderstanding her, or, rather, totally understanding what she meant and running with it in a mobbie way. Grendel has FENCED the GLOWY STUFF.

A pair of Nakkadiles in her color come up, holding a fistful of black cloth and a boondollar, usher her outside. "The FAT CATS are at the Stock Market, Boss! Also we got this stuff for the stuff you nakked us, naknak, we got a good fence."

For those not getting caught up in the LOGAL UNDERWORLD CIVIL WAR…

The Stock Exchange looms over, at least a thirty story building with lightning crashing down around it and a thick black miasma rolling off the roof. A sooty GIANT FAKE BOONBUCK is the only sign for it, and through the dark double doors… There is motion. Dark motion. One might even call it the motion of OBESE FELINES, gorged on their RICHNESS.

Endria's peeping position would reveal to her that the FAT CATS inside, which are giant feline-like ogres with disdended bodies and top hats and monocles are resting on a GIANT PILE OF CASH and…

Eating it. They are DEVOURING all the MONEY in LOGAL!

"Gre@!" Vruasa exclaims to Nakson. If that is what is in the highest demand, then it is also probably /the most expensive thing in the world/, especially if it is that rare. Since cash is in fact /illegal/, the commodity can for most purposes replace the cash as a tool of trade. With Nakson still in hand, the Knight of Time hits the /fast-forward/ button and the next thing he knows it…

======> Go to Fiora's Place

He's standing next to THE SECRET THING that Fiora made. Before he moves on to other business he makes a point to captchalogue it and oh what the hell is this shit.


How the fuck could this painting be so plot-centric that it isn't going to unlock for /maybe a whole goddamn year/??? The Capsule doesn't even know when it will dump it out! This is ridiculous.

The Knight of Time decides not to linger on this subject, since it will inevitably drive him crazy. He finally puts Nakson down and CAPTCHALOGUES his coat. It is immediately plot-relevant and thus quickly removed in card form. It takes him a few minutes, but by speeding up time local to the objects in question, he begins to /mass produce/ awesome trenchcoats. Partially aided by speeding up time local to Fiora's CRUXTRUDER and TOTEM LATHE so that he doesn't have to wait for-fucking-ever in real time to make extra coats.

The first thing he does is take one for himself, putting it on and buttoning it up so he is properly attired. The /second/ is left for Fiora, because it is her alchemiter and she gave him a hat and apparently a plot-related painting. The /third/ is given to Nakson, and thank god these things don't require a lot of grist on the basis of being simple clothing items.

After /that/ though…

Vruasa just starts making a big ol' pile of black trenchcoats. He is gonna own this goddamn city.


"Nakson, what is the purpose of this quest?" He asks his Lieutenant, suddenly confused as to his own motives.

Prorth knows it's coming. Good thing that shard's still in place. He sees it all. It brings him some smug satisfaction. Especially when it's not Hat that moves, but the girl with him. He withdraws his shard, even as the girl flies at him. With his back turned as it is, her fist meets skull. He tumbles through the dirt, and when he recovers his feet, his eyes blaze. He's beyond anger. Beyond rage. He is LIVID.

==> Prorth: Calm down.

To hell with that. You challenge his pride, you get his fury. He doesn't even speak. He lets a shard take over in his computer rose. He has a blue rose on his jacket. It was always there. Prorth's main body raises the gun, his impeccable aim immediately zeroes in. He said he killed. He never stated how.

A shot rings out, aimed at Eila's shoulder. Another shot, the other shoulder. Another, her leg. Another, her flank. A final, her other leg. "You think you can defend HIM? You can't STOP ME!"

"I can see your anger. Come, bring it to BEAR! Use it! Let me show you just what you're fucking with!"


Endria frowns at her discovery, then glances towards her nakkie, "…Please hold on a moment." And then just like that, she's gone.



Endria appears in her house. The boxy file cabinet from the LOGAL police station is there. She rummages in it for a few moments, a little frown on her face. She doesn't find what she was looking for, but she does find something -else- interesting. Glancing through the file, her frown neutralizes.



Endria reappears, still holding that file from her PILFERED CASEFILES. Holding it out to Endernak, she taps the pictures, "…Have you seen any of these around there?"

Yeah! UH-HUH! YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS! (A Scenepose, also black and yellow black and yellow)

The Black and Silvers look up at Psyber confusely. "Naknak we've got a boss already nak." They offer, before going back to losing to each other piles of bottle caps and paperclips. One naks up. "BOSS came through before. Hasn't come back since, naknak. Runs this place, nak. Check the BACK ROOM, naknaknak."

The Back Room being the Door to Fiora's House. Totally a coincidence, though.

The bartender slowly works a rag around a tin can, keeping it just as clean as it was as nothing could survive the engine degreaser they serve in the cans.

NAKSON looks to Vruasa. "Boss! Naknaknak! THIS IS AMAZING WHAT IS THIS PLACE NAKNAKNAK?!" it starts yelling, having an absolute conniption at the fact that FIORA'S BAR is WAY BETTER then the SLUM BASEMENT SPEAKEASY.

Waving its arms around and chomping its teeth, Nakson seems to be stunned.

Fiora walks down into the Bar area, rubbing her eyes with a loose PROBLEM SLEUTH t-shirt on and a pair of black with grey pokadot pajama pants and bare feet on, looking at Vruasa.

"Why are you… making coats in my house, Telash?" She wonders, groggily.

Nakson froths even harder at all the coats. "BY JOVE NAKNAKNAK WE'RE RICH!"

Eila's precognition serves her pretty well this time. She sees the shots coming seconds before they're ever fired. Sadly that's still not enough time to dodge them completely, especially in these close quarters. But it's enough to mitigate what would otherwise be lethal damage.

One shot to her shoulder grazes it, tearing through her skin and drawing a stream of blood past the point of impact. A quick twist of her body avoids the other shoulder shot completely, along with the bullets to her flank and one of her legs. The other leg shot grazes her a second time, the bullet also drawing blood.

The impact from the bullets causes Eila a pretty severe amount of pain, since you know… bullets tend to hurt when they hit you… but she grits her teeth and pushes beyond it.

In response, Eila shouts, "You think I'm afraid of a GUN? I am a SOLDIER! I fight WARS!" She rushes at Prorth again, punctuating each sentence she yells with a swing of her fist, "Wars against enemies who destroy /everything/ they see! You really think some loudmouth is going to impress me? Give me a break!"

Tshallandria smiles to her Minions. Well she's CERTAIN That something happened there. Not really sure what. But hey. SOMETHING Happened. And she feels more self assured. Also, Grendel is gone. "Excellent. You should keep them both as part of your excellent service to me…" She chuckles, "Remind me to get all of you some much more appropriate armor, and materials at a later date." A pause. "Well… Hell does have some decent tailors… …Something fire resistant maybe, probably ballistic in nature…" She considers for a long moment before speaking into her radio…

"Yes. All of you will be excellently attired. It is only fitting for my retinue… Ah yes. Adela will get me some enchanted spider-silk cloth for you…" She shrugs and nods. "Did you need anything else while I'm here? I'm about to go join Nue."

Prorth smirks. He doesn't even move as her blows rain down, letting them hit him. Blood trickles from his lips, the indigo liquid trailing down his chin. "That's right, hit me! Hit me! I haven't proven myself, and now I've blown any chance! HIT ME! THIS IS WHAT I NEED FROM YOU!" He charges in, letting his heart open. He could FEEL the anger in her tone, and when his gun rings out next, the malice behind the bullet is palpable. "You can't hurt me more than I do, so let yourself go! Let's take the pain TOGETHER!"

His eyes are blank. "Keep punching! When Hat gets here, he has bullets! I'll take you both down in a tempest of gunfire and indigo blood!"

Nue stops and glances over her shoulder, raising a hand to tilt her hat up and glance over to Arthur with her glowing red, slit-pupiled eyes. Her mouth pulls back in a slightly-miffed 'tch' as she flips the brim of her hat back down and continues along her way through the streets, her jimmies remaining completely unrustled at the rampant shootouts going on outside. "Yeah, we're going to-AUGH /SHIT/!" She suddenly swears as a stray bullet from the shootout finds its way to her throat, but she quickly shakes it off and wipes the blood away, letting her youkai regeneration take care of it. "…assholes. We're going to go to the Stock Exchange, Arthur. Don't get in the way. Or die. Both of those would be equally annoying."

Once at the building, Nue glances up, flipping the brim of her hat up again to regard the sign before she sighs and pushes it back down again. "…welp. Time to screw them up."

The youkai approaches the double doors, then raises one foot before suddenly delivering a swift, powerful kick with all her youkai strength to the door to knock it open. "KNOCK KNOCK, ASSHOLES, WE'RE HERE FOR THE CASH AND WE WON'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER!" She is, of course, assuming intimidation tactics won't necessitate a fight. Especially when it comes to obese ogre-cats.

"I think this is CS's hive!" Vruasa replies to Nakson, looking around to try and get his bearings. He's been here before, but it hadn't really registered to him what an odd hive Fiora lives in. He decides that it is probably best not to criticize it though, since he is in fact currently only able to access an alchemiter because Fiora told him he could use hers. When Fiora herself shows up to see his ENORMOUS PILE OF COATS, the troll turns around to look at her and blinks slowly behind his shades. He tries to parse what is going on, fails, and decides to simply move on and explain.

"Well," He says, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning like a lunatic, "I ended up here after fast-forwarding too much and apparently I am a DON NOW. Also there are some fat cats fucking with the economy and making money illegal or something. Anyway, the point is that the most in-demand item around here is apparently BLACK APPAREL." Vruasa gestures towards the giant pile of black coats.

"I figure if I can't have money, I can barter /anything I fucking want/ by trading awesome black trenchcoats! And since I wear one of those anyway, I can just make a giant pile of copies and roll around in them like Scruge McDuck rolls around in boondollars!" Why this reference carries over to troll culture is a mystery.

Then Vruasa scratches his head near the base of one horn and adds, "Although to be honest I have no idea why the fuck I'm doing any of this. Also, I think your SECRET THING YOU MADE is important or something. Look at the card in my TIME CAPSULE MODUS." He retrieves the locked card and shows it to Fiora. It apparently is going to hold on to the item for IT DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW LONG. He puts it back away once she's gotten a good look at it. Fat lot of good it does him right now.

=======> Become Increasingly Annoyed

Nono, you can't go ahead and just axe someone out of this world because they happen to be particularly annoying or because they're shooting you, Psyber. Remember, you're still supposed to be trying out that whole non-lethal schtick from how bad you feel because of Annu. You totally feel awful about tha-

Oh. He's trying to kill Eila. Okay.

====> Seriously. Take that tool out.

Wait. The Silver-and-black Naks are talking. Psyber looks their way as he crumples up the hankerchief and nods, "Oh. Alright, you work for the girl, or something. I dunno. Sorry, I'm in a weird mood. You guys play good cards, though. I had fun. Will you watch my coat for me?" He asks nicely.

=====> Hear Mental Themesong

In Psyber's Mind:

The half-angel looks over Eila's way (It's not like I'm walking alone into the valley of the shadow of death~ Stand beside one another, 'cause it ain't over yet~) as he sees her fighting on his behalf. His red eyes narrow and a hand comes up to gently pluck the hat off his head, "Or steal it. I don't care much." He unbuttons his jacket and folds it, dropping it on the cards table, "Be right back." He states to them, walking away as he unbuttons his cuffs and starts to roll up this sleeves. He shouts out just one word as he walks out into the street.


========> [S] Bring the Pain Down

"Everybody, with your fists raised high

Let me hear your battle cry tonight

Stand beside, or step aside

We're on the frontline"

Rolling his neck, Psyber dashes forward at a frightening and untelegraphed speed when the insane troll distracts himself with shooting at Eila. Blindingly fast, he dashes and closes the distance, bringing himself upon the battle and then jumping upward as he says, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!"

Pushing two feet forward, his attack is as elegant as it is pitiless and brutal. Two feet air aimed in an amazing dropkick for the back of Prorth's skull with all the speed and force Psyber can muster to deliver in a single, crushing attack. He's flying like a suit-clad missile towards the cranium of the indigo-blooded troll, trying to use what momentary distraction he can get to drop a single devastating attack.

He then backflips off the impact and lands neatly on his feet, cracking his knuckles and switching into a defensive stance as he waits.

Arthur's first course of action is going to be to hit the Police Station. This consists mostly of passing by it, and shouting up to the stikers, if there are any:

"Hey! Assholes! We're gonna go get all the money back! Come on!"

And then he's off to join Nue again. The violence going on with the whole underworld civil war has him feeling PUMPED UP rather than particularly worried. This is, at the very least, the wrong alt for being worried about this sort of thing. Arthur's marching in a confident way behind Nue when she kicks the door down, and brings up his ELDRITCH BATTLEBROOM to threaten the group as she does. The various dark energies crackling in the implement should look, at the very least, a little bit threatening.

"Takin' you punks down! Shut the hell up and start vomiting or there is probably going to be a shit ton of stabbing going on. Let's all be cool here." He grins widely, leaping onto the nearest desk/console/pile of boondollars/crocodile and firing a few bolts of dark magic at the ceiling, clearly in his overconfident state rather than the underconfident one. "We're only here for your innards! And your food I guess."

Yeah, he's probably about to get punched by cat-ogres.


Endria points at the case-files. Endernak just points over Endria's shoulder at… A single Nakkadile. Alone. Wearing a brown suit, and no hat. The suit has STRANGE BULGES all over and the Nakkadile seems to be wearing black gloves. There's a big scar across his crocodile-jaw, and he naks to himself as he strides, not skitters or waves his arms around… Speed-strides towards the doors.

Nue kicks them down.

The Nakkadile simply draws two huge tommyguns from its coat that could not possibly hold them, and looks to Nue, before grinning like a crocodile idiot. "ALRIGHT MOTHERNAKKERS, THIS IS A NAKKING HEIST, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" He cries, before a spray of danmaku rattles into the cieling and the FAT CATS mrowl and stop stuffing boondollars into their gobs.

This appears to be some sort of SUPER HARDENED NAKKACROOK. And he rushes into the Stock Exchange guns blazing, heading for the back. Large Ogre-cats rear up, before rolling around, a huge choruses of hissing and mrowling as the Nakkadile forges ahead of the rest, who are BLOCKED! By the GIRTH of the FAT CATS.

Alarms go off.

Sirens ring in the distance.

Everything starts going to hell.

A rather rotund cat-ogre horks up a BOONDOLLARBALL at Arthur, condensed HARD CASH rolling katamari-style towards him. In fact, all those assaulting the STOCK EXCHANGE are engaged in a deluge of WEAPONIZED CASH.


Fiora looks at the Time Capsule, and shrugs. "Beats me. Listen, um…" She blushes, and looks away from Vruasa, crossing her arms. "If you want to go… um… Well, I don't really know what you do for fun, but I grabbed a few books about Achilles if you want to read them. Unless you can't read english in which case I have no idea…" She mumbles, looking rather LOST FOR WORDS. Because this is VERY AKWARD. She hears her pesterchum go off upstairs, and looks to Vruasa before back up the stairs. "Ummmm…" She stutters.

Nakson is hard at work hoisting coats into the ELEVATOR back up to the GATE. They'll be nakking RICH, BOSS! He just KNOWS it!

At this range Eila's precognition isn't near enough to let her avoid the bullet. She takes the hit as the round rips through her, leaving a spray of red blood behind her. She weakly staggers backwards.

After glaring at Prorth for a bit, Eila grumbles. She intended to go deal with some MONEY STEALING CATS but now she's here bringing her fists to a gunfight. Well great. This was /not/ how she wanted to spend her evening

Eila reaches into her coat pocket and takes out a standard issue pistol. Most strike witches are given one, after all, and it's the only real weapon she has at the moment. She's about to shoot when her foresight warns her that a friendly target is about to enter her line of fire.

After Psyber attacks, Eila waits for him to backflip away before she squeezes off a couple rounds. She doesn't go for anything too fancy or showy. Just a round to one of PP's shoulders and another fired at his gut.

His pistol is placed back in the sylladex. He steps away. With Eila stating she's done, the Heart's power dies down. But, just a moment later, he feels it well back up. He spits some blood, the bright liquid contrasting HARD against their surroundings. He straightens. "Yes… YES…" He throws his hands to his sides, waiting. He sees it in slow motion. And, as he does, he manages one last statement.

==> Prorth: S "You brought it on her."

He smirks. He could act cool all he wanted. The dropkicking angel. The Troll didn't much care anymore. He wished he had a drying device. Some sort of cloth designed to dry his body, if such a thing existed nearby, within reach. He needed a towel.

The boots plant firm, and Prorth spirals away. As he does, he smirks. "Yes…" he says, pushing back up shakily. He smiles a smile full of blood. The indigo substance is like a beacon in the world. "Try to break me. Try to save your honor. Try, try, try to punish the big bad Troll. Keep trying." He steps forward, shards beginning to cycle out.

Could he control his lower gang members? He's about to try getting a crowd of them to break away from the fight and close in on the pair. He hears shots, sees blood spots in his suit, and just grins more. A full on smile.


His pistol is back. And now he alternates between the two targets, emptying his original clip and loading a new one. Shoulders, legs, ankles, arms… all non-lethal shots. All non-lethal aims.

Endria blinks at Endernak, then follows where he points from their little hidey hole. Pale violet eyes widen slightly, "Oh." Her scarf reaches out, wrapping around Endernak so that when she teleports—



—to inside the Stock Exchange, between Nue, Arthur, and the SUPER-HARDENED NAKKACROOK, she takes Endernak with her. Immediately, she lets go of the broody Nakkadile, glancing at him, "…You know what to do."

The smallish Endergirl promptly relocates to…behind the SUPER-HARDENED NAKKACROOK, peeking out from behind his brown coat at the cat catogres. Wrapped in her scarf and from mysterious origins, is an iron sword. A regular one. She gave her fancy Redstone Cleavers to Endernak, after all.

"…If you don't give up, we'll kill you."

"What I do for fun?" Vruasa thinks about that for a minute. The honest answer is mostly BRUTAL VIOLENCE in the form of TROLL SPORTS. He is pretty certain that soft human girls who freak out over secrets are not suited to that sort of thing! Well, okay, maybe a FLARP after this session kicked off. But that isn't really a human's idea of fun, even if they'd be okay at it. He shakes his head and says, "Alright, I am okay with doing stuff with you but frankly all of the shit that I did back on Alternia would probably be really really bad for your health so I am just going to let you figure out what's acceptable."

"Trollball is a sport where the ball is a troll." He clarifies, for the purposes of demonstrating exactly why he's not communicating his own prior hobbies. "Also, being the ball is /awesome/ for your stamina. Kinda hurts tho'. Anyway, I've gotta go, I need to show this city who's boss. I mean. Other than you, I guess. It is your world after all, so I can only assume that you're important here."

Apparently he missed the reading part. But actually, he /can/ read english. It's this weird sort of universal language. Normally his writing is in moon runes and shit.

Vruasa carefully /does not/ fast forward past whatever it is Fiora undoubtedly says to him as he snatches a few of the trenchcoats from the pile Nakson is taking out. Not a lot of them. Just enough to…


Jump out the nearest window, pull his rocket spear out of his sylladex before gravity takes effect, and rocket across the city raining those awesome trenchcoats throughout the streets like some kind of insane billionaire dropping money out of a balloon at the superbowl.

Nue's mouth is still quite visible under her hat, the fanged grin under the brim of her hat gleaming in the light.

And that grin flips right over as the Nakkadile bursts in, guns blazing. He just jacked her awesome. She is not happy.

"…WHAT THE HELL?!" She blurts that out just in time to get a facefull of cat-digested dollars that knocks her head back with a painful and wet-sounding crack and knocks her hat right off.

When she straightens up again, her expression is one of absolute pissed-off in at least five different ways. Also slimy.

"…I swear I am going to shank you shithogs in the throat with a rusty spoon and use your innards as holiday decoration," she growls, her voice hissing angrily as her red eyes flare with pure annoyance. First some guy steals her glory and then she gets money vomited in her face. And her hat. HER AWESOME HAT.

Pointed teeth bared in a harsh snarl, Nue draws her three-pronged trident from seemingly nowhere and enters a crouch before leaping forward, dashing toward one of the ogre-cats with her weapon thrust in front of her in an attempt to run through the beast's gut. Screw the money, her dignity is on the line here!

Psyber seems unphased by the gang members circling him. In fact, he looks wholly non-chalant as he shifts, his dress shoes easily sliding across the pavement as he lets loose with a few snaking kicks to clear anyone foolish enough to stray too close to him.

"I'm not trying to save my honor. Or even have it, kid. I just think you're barking up the wrong tree if you wanna demand respect because of what flows in your veins." He states rather blandly, his face neutral as he lets his hands fall to his pocket and says, "You wanna know how little I think of you? How absolutely minimal a threat I find you?" The half-angel smiles and says, "My hands aren't going to leave my pockets at all this fight.

A bullet rips through his thigh and another through his bicep, staining both the black pants and the white shirt red with blood. But he charges inwards towards Prorth, through a swath of Prorths own men. And it's with the fluid grace of a practiced martial artist that he does it, ducking a weaving. Finally, a leg flexes and he jumped upwards. He bounces off the top of one nakkadiles head and thenflies straight in towards Prorth. As he comes down, he tries to connect the back of the heel to Prorths head and then land.

Upon landing, he finishes the combo by springing up with a knee to thrust it into the trolls gut, and then he plants a foot down and sweeps for the legs with a practiced maneuver. All of this is despite the distinct handicap in movement of a bullet to the leg, as well as the pain that supplies him.

As the money horking and cat-brooming, dooming, and glooming, one massive cat appears behind all the others. The lord of all FAT CATS. The ONE PURRRRCENT looks over all others, its claws and whiskers made out of SOLID BOONDOLLARS, it's titanic form taking up fully half the room as the DONS and BOSSES arrayed there seem to cleave through the FAT CATS with ease. Nue even racks up BONUS POINTS for spearing multiple cats on her spear, however that works with how huge each of them but listen, Nue's SUPER GOOD AT THIS.

The ONE PURRRRCENT raises a claw, swatting away the SUPER HARDENED NAKKACROOK who falls over onto his back, raising a large revolver to fire at the BIGGEST FAT CAT OF THEM ALL.

To put this in purrspective, the ONE PURRRRCENT wears two monocles and a tower of tophats no less then four hats tall. It also wears a giant bib made out of boondollars.

At this time, outside the Market District CORRUCOPCARS arrive on the scene, and UNDERLING COPS start filtering out, Imps with nightsticks and glowing green eyes beginning to beat any Nakkadile in range, exhibiting MAD POLICE BRUTALITY.

However, a few of Tshallandria's Nakkadiles sneak up into one of the cars, one working the pedals as another steers, swapping his fedora for a cabbie hat as he drives at breakneck speeds through the city, almost running over Psyber and Prorth with their INCREDIBLY SHITTY DRIVING, before pulling up in front of Tshallandria outside the SLUMS BAR, burning rubber as they squeal to a stop… In true mobbie style, the back seat is reserved for the DON, as more Nakkadiles pile in and prepare for a LOGAL DRIVEBY.

Grendel makes sure to open the door and gesture the DON inside. His DON must only ride in style.


"You don't understand, do you?" Prorth smirks. "You don't fucking get it. Let me break it down for you, you clown. I AM NOT PERFECT." He smiles through all this, letting him slam him in the back of his head. He can feel the pain of each of his nakkadiles, and that merely compounds him. "I AM NOT PERFECT. All you are doing is exacting my punishment. The harder you fight, the less I care. You are a bastard. And I? I am just as much a bastard. I am not perfect. Why do you think that fucking lower-blood leads this fuckheap? Are you getting it yet?" He fires another shot, but this one is only half-hearted toward his leg. He falls slowly, staring up with that manic grin. "I am STILL winning. I have already won. You CANNOT win, for you have already lost. And the best part? I keep winning. Come, let the anger flow. Let your emotions go. Come at me with everything and let us do the dance of agony." He doesn't actually move. His body refuses to let him.


Tshallandria smiles to Grendel, "This is absolutely perfect, I commend you on your taste." She follows him through the exit, and to the car, climbing in after him. "Oh… And Grendel." She reaches out her left hand, placing the gem of the gauntlet on top of the salamander's head. "For your excellent judgement today, I hereby imbue upon you a portion of my power."

And energy arcs down her arm, pulsing across her golden tattoos, flowing through the gem of her gauntlet into the Salamander, filling him with a bit of her divine and infernal essences, ehancing his intelligence, speed, strength, toughness, and all of attributes, as well as his ability to heal and recovery from … Whatever the nakking nak he does.

And with that they're off to bank. …And given their driving skills, Tshallandria is QUITE Certainly glad for her ability to survive damn near everything.

Arthur is too busy dealing with balls of congealed money to react to Endria threatening their co-robber. His confidence is rewarded by a sturdy impact to the chest that takes him right off whatever it was he jumped on and right onto the floor. "DOOF" is a good approximation of the reaction; Arthur finds himself in a situation that is very, very distinctly not at all cool. So, after wrestling with the boonball and then subsequently calling a hasty "DIBS" he's back up on his feet. "Hey!" He looks back to Endria, then realizes the problem with that and looks back towards the big fat cat. "Threatening him is okay, but I'd love the help from those guns of his! Hey cool robber croc guy on the ground there, if you're okay with it, cover me while she threatens you! It'll be hells kinds of awesome and I'm sure this whole misunderstanding thing will be worked out once we murder a bunch of underlings!" And, hopefully covered by the robber fire, Arthur leaps towards the hopefully-bent trident-end, SPRINGING off it onto the speared series of fat-cats. "HAHA, THIS IS INCREDIBLE." And, as Nue potentially moves the whole line of underlings, Arthur moves along them, approaching the massive fat cat, bristle-end of the broom spinning rapidly and crackling with magic, intending to spear at the head of the thing with a blender-like eldritch broom.

Elsewhere, Good Saint Vruasa brings BLACK CLOTHING to all the little girl crocodiles and boy crocodiles, mobbies everywhere acquiring COATS as they're dropped by Rocketspear Sleigh, and the SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS fills all of the nakkadiles.

Fashion, especially black clothed fashion, has gone in a matter of seconds from scraps and rags, to BLACK TRENCHCOATS.


Fiora looks… Confused as he goes, but smiles and offers him the books. And also makes some confused and frigtened noises at 'trollball'. Then shakes her head and heads back upstairs to her computer, once he's gone.

Endernak leaps into action, and by that, we mean…

He disappears. There's flashes of red all through the brightly lit area, before…

Everything goes Dark.
All the Lights Go Out

There's a quiet whisper as the breaker box is flipped in one corner of a back room, fat cat entrails littered all over it as boondollars smear the floor. And Endernak, with a sword stuck in the breakerbox.

"Got it, Boss. No Witnesses,naknakvoipnak."

During all of this chaos and mayhem… MORE CHAOS AND MAYHEM HAPPENS.

Psyber, Eila, and Prorth's fight has farther-reaching consequences. Not all DONS like the others. Not all Nakkadiles are allies. Deep within the city, something changes.

Nakkadile fights Nakkadile, for a Cause.

Prorth and Psyber have brought GANG WARFARE to LOGAL.

The SUPER HARDENED NAKKACROOK falls down. Endria hops back to avoid getting squished by him. However, he looks so weird and strange, "…I wasn't threatening…" the girl mutters. With her hand, she removes her STYLISH FEDORA and places it on the Nakkadile's head, "…You look weird without one of these. Here."

Arthur looks at her, and she freezes briefly until he looks away again. Returning to matters, Endria steps back and tucks her sword away. Her scarftails rummage in her hoodie's pockets for a moment, before she pulls out… A Dispensor. She drops down a block of stone and then sets the dispensor on top of it, then quickly sets out redstone right there in the middle of the floor to create a high speed Clock.

*voop* she's gone

*voo-vip* she's back

With the lights cut by Endernak, there's only the faint glow of redstone pulses around Endria when she reappears. The Dispensor clicks rapidly and uselessly. Until Endria crams a hopper into the back and starts unloading fistfulls of arrows into it.

Oh yeah. This whole rapid fire arrow shooter is aimed at that big fat ONE PURRRRCENT. I mean, how could he even dodge, he's so fat.

"Tch. What a lech." Psyber comments as he watches Prorth, rolling his shoulders as he sees his opponent attempt to move, but fail. The bullet that Prorth fired rips right through Psyber's leg. The half-angel teeters to the side, but remains standing by some miracle. He grumbles and says, "You want perfection, just fucking strive for it. Don't lament a lack of it. You wanna be leader, take it. You wanna be the best, do so."

He would move in towards Prorth for the kill shot, but he has to hop backwards to avoid the car that damn near takes him out when it speeds by, "This was ungodly dumb. And a waste of my time. I need to get to the bank." He says, even as he plunges a pair of fingers into both of his leg wounds to forcibly pull out the bullets and toss them to the ground.

And then he calmly puts on his sunglasses and makes a pesterchum request.

Nue now has a trident with several ridiculously obese Fat Cats impaled on it. What is a youkai with superhuman strength to do?

Well, first she's going to plant her feet firmly in the ground and hoist that cat-kabob up into the air as per Arthur's request, letting him climb up and leap off of them toward the ONE PURRRRCENT.

And when that's done, the girl who seems way too small to be doing this whirls around, shouting at the top of her lungs as she weilds the cat-kabob like an oversized hammer before smashing the biggest fat cat of them all in a heavy golf swing aimed right at his jaw.

…and then her grip is lost as the trident with cats equipped goes flying right through the door and outside. "…GODDAMMIT."

Vruasa CAPTCHALOGUES the books on the way out. They, too, end up having a bizarrely long timer on them. What the hell. He doesn't question it though, because by the time he notices he's already way the hell over there.


Then, some other shit starts to go down as he cruises over the city on his aerodynamic rocket spear. Why the hell are there suddenly nakkadiles fighting way the hell down there? Nakson better not get into that shit. He does not have the time to make certain that his actions here do not inadvertantly result in widespread murder and mayhem! Unless it's against somebody he doesn't like, in which case that's fine by him.

Wait, why are there some wearing Prorth's shade of blue? That can't be a good sign.

Instead of going and doing something with the FAT CATS and whatever the hell else is going on in this city, he just cruises around and activates his trollphone shades again, for the moment.


It is basically a thing. It then becomes the QUADRUPLE TAG TECHNIQUE as Endria adds PINCUSHION to that attack name SOMEHWHERE APPROPRIATE as Arthur, Endria, Nue, and the NAKKACROOK lay into the ONE PURRRRCENT.

If one was geanre savvy enought to notice, or, if anyone was to look up, the ONE PURRRRCENT'S HEALTH BAR had emptied about half way from the INCREDIBLY AWESOME attack layed upon it.

It sweeps its boonbuck claws around, eviscerating the DONS and BOSSES with it's horrible claws causing wicked TAX CUTS all over.

Nakson, for his part, is hanging on to the end of the rocket spear of his Don and having his jaw wave in the wind comically.

Tshallandria's Driver-Naks and Grendel swerve through the streets, hitting a few POLICE BRUTALITY UNDERCOPS on the way before drifting in to stop next to the LOGALSE.

Grendel and crew are powered up! ALL PARAMETERS INCREASED! … They're still sort of lame. BUT SLIGHTLY LESS LAME!


Vruasa looks down towards Nakson, and steers towards a rooftop to land on in the distance.

"Nakson," he asks, "why are you here? You were in the elevator last time I saw." That's actually really kind of creepy.

Endria glances up from loading ALL OF THESE ARROWS into her automatic arrow shooter, blinking dumbly as the monstrous OnePurrcenter takes a swing at her. Oh right. Claws.

*voop* While the ONE PURRRRCENT smashes the arrow shooter, all he gets of Endria is a fist full of twinkling purple particles that disappear after a few seconds.

*voo-vip* There's a scattering of more particles as Endria reappears, though a black-clad girl in the dark is REALLY HARD TO SEE once her colorful particle effects disappear. But just what is she doing?

Moving about in the dark, Endria skitters close to the ONE PURRRRCENT and places down a pile of dirt almost immediately beneath him with her hands. Her scarftail plants a pine sapling on this, and she looks up with faintly glowing violet eyes. And when the timing seems right, her other scarftail applies a handful of ground up bonemeal to the tree.

There is quite suddenly a FULLY GROWN PINE TREE inside the STOCK EXCHANGE courtesy of MINECRAFT ECOLOGY. Endria attempts to make it grow where it would menace the BOSS.

Arthur can only barely dodge the brunt of the damage by moving around the collarbone, which is to say that now that he's landed on this thing after Nue's grand swing, he's in a sort of Shadow of the Colossus situation, which is to say he's desperately scrambling along the giant thing trying to avoid the aforementioned eviceration. He winds up with some substantial DESTABILIZATION affecting his VITALITY GEL, but he's still mostly functional. Blunt force trauma followed by lacerations is reaching Arthur's pain threshold now, which he blusteres through with the vague, uncertain justification that whatever is going on is definitely some kind of cool and that whatever he can do, despite disorientation and hanging off of the neck of a giant cat, is probably going to be cool. So, the first thing he does is do what any person does when fighting a giant boss; attack the weaknesses of the armor bits to dislodge them. Which is to say, that bib; he whips the bristle-end of the broom viciously along the neck, attempting to sever the material and drop the bib. Presumably it's not only worth money, but part of the abstract defense paradigm and protection mechanism, if he goes by game logic.

While Nue is briefly distracted with the fact that she just threw her awesome weapon at the door, the ONE PURRRRCENT takes a swing at her. She looks back just in time to see the money-claw swiping at her.

"…aw hell-"

And the next thing she knows, she's flying through a window. Painfully. Into another building.

…yeah, that's going to take a minute to recover from.

Tshallandria grins as her minions level up … Sortof. And then a thought crosses her mind. Do minions have Level-ladders too? …Nah… …Still. The fact that their driving is sorta…

She Grins. Widely. And places her hand on the door… …A moment later both bumpers and all of the tires glow with imbued hellfire, and the headlamps take on a slightly more sinister glow. "Try hitting them some more now, if you would?"

And then a pause, "Actually pull over at this corner and…"

A moment later Tshallandria steps regally out of the car, turning to face her now… …More evil car. "Do enjoy yourselves, I'll call when it's time for you to pick me up. Make sure you hit a lot of them on your way through the streets."

And with that she goes strolling through the front of the building, levels her sword at one of the unengaged fat-cats, "I apologize for being stylishly late…" She gestures offhandedly at Arthur, and dull red energy flows at him, clinging to his weapons, ripe with the desire to cause harm, blue energy follows, sticking to his clothing and armor, flowing into his wounds, protecting him and causing him to regenerate for … a time. "Now… …I think we have some cleanup to do?"

Suddenly, a beautful stream of danmaku bullets rains down towards the ONE PURRRRCENT from above, as a wobbly foxwitch in a striker unit flies over head. Eila doesn't move around in the air all that much, but she does steady her aim as she continues to fire burst after burst at the ONE PURRRCENT and the FAT CATS in general.

She certainly looks worse for the wear already, but she's not out of the fight yet.


After having spent a significant amount of time staggering away from the impromptu barfight, bleeding more than a Strike Witch probably should, Eila takes a seat down on the ground. She starts ripping off parts of her 20s costume in an effort to jury-rig some sort of bandages. She'll deal with the more grevious wounds later, but for the moment she's just worried about stopping the bleeding.

Said bleeding is pretty nasty by the way. Freaking guns.

Many things happen at once. First…

Arthur Shadow of the Catlossus' the One Purrrrcent, dodging boonclaws while flying around and hanging on for dear life like a moron. He looks TOTALLY BADASS, but is thrown from the Catlossus' back as it rears and scrapes itself on the back wall. The downed SUPER HARDENED NAKKACROOK is given a HAT and gets up, swelling with MANGRIT as he LEVELS UP to Behatted Heistmaster, blazing away with twin tommyguns. Eila joins that show swinging down with her guns blazing, smashing huge chunks out of the FATTEST CAT.

But then…

The large TREE that grows under the ONE PURRRRCENT causes the massive catogre to rise up, and then… The tree is absorbed into the cat's unholy frame, as it howls in rage. All the Fat Cats uncontrollably hork up all of the Boondollars as the combined riches of LOGAL is drawn into the ONE PURRRRCENT's yawning mouth, devouring ALL OF THE CASH.

There is a terrible black coating that covers it as the Fat Cats all perish in small piles of grist. The ONE PURRRRCENT undergoes a terrible transformation.


The cat is titanic, with seventeen top hats in an improbable tower, twelve monocles piled upon its eyes, and two large tommyguns loaded with drum-clips of boondollars.

It's good everyone's being healed up with regeneration from Tshallandria, because this cat hoses the room with the POWER OF BEING WAY FUCKING RICHER THEN YOU.

Oppression never felt so economically ironic!

Somewhere else…

Nue is knocked into a room, across the way from the LOGALSE. In an unmarked and locked room, she rolls in… To a single nakkadile in a dark room, lit only by the lights of FOUR OLD-STYLE RADIOS. He seems to have a headset on and the FLOOR PLANS to the LOGALSE on a table between the radios which are stacked in twos. Only one radio seems to be transmitting, and what it's transmitting is a live audio feed from the LOGALSE.

"Hey! What's going on, guys! Naknaknak, there's a copperling assault in twenty seconds! Brace yourselves!"

The nondescript Nakkadile in a grey shirt and black pants turns to Nue.

"Oooookay… k k k k … Um…"


Nue takes several long minutes to recover from the impact of being blown through lots of pain.

She does, however, manage to overhear the nakkadile despite her currently crumpled pile of agony. The youkai regeneration sets in after a bit, working enough to let her gradually uncrumple herself and wobble to her feet.

Her red eyes glow in the dark as she looks at the nakkadile, one hand raising to her neck as she suddenly snaps it to the side with several dull cracks and a slight wince. "…alright, what the hell," she remarks flatly, apparently cooled down from her flipping out earlier. With a sigh, she takes a few steps toward the nakkadile, stopping just out of the light from the radios with her slit-pupiled eyes glaring down at him in the dark. "Who are you and what exactly are you coordinating right there?"

This is going to be GREAT. It might not work but goddamn if he isn't going to try.

Vruasa Telash turns this aerodynamic rocket spear RIGHT THE FUCK AROUND after seeing the /many top hats/ looming before him. He's not prepared to fight that fairly, but there's certainly something he can do to help the others. He starts trolling CS on his trollphone shades as he makes his way back to her place, and in particular the window that he flew out of to begin with. If he times it just right he won't waste /any/ time AT ALL. And he always times it right.

Because he is the Knight of Motherfuckin' Time, bitch.

The troll snatches the printed-out SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF comic page from Fiora and zips through the rest of the process in fast-forward. He makes it look like slow-mo for her benefit though, because this is too awesome and hilarious to not let her know exactly what he's trying to do here.



Vruasa Telash accelerates through time to rapidly return to the site of the ongoing battle, and throws the
at the monstrous enemy that everybody is fighting. But he doesn't stick around to join the fight properly. A helping hand is all he has the energy for after all this time shenanigans.

The Endermen are known for their ability to avoid arrows before they can be struck by teleporting out of the way. Bullets travel a little faster than arrows. Okay, a lot faster. So much faster than Endria's instinct to teleport doesn't kick in until after she's SHOT WITH CASH. It hurts and stings and causes a splatter behind her of faintly glowing purple blood right as she teleports with a noise of pain.


The distinctive scattered purple particles indicate she reappeared still inside the darkened room, but once the violet fades, it's nearly impossible to see what she's doing. However, the thunk-thunk of stone and other noises indicate she's building again. In the dark.


The distinctive red flicker of a redstone timing clock lights up in another corner of the STOCK EXCHANGE. And this time, it's a total of FIVE DISPENSERS ON STONE PILLARS that open fire. And they're not shooting arrows, but flaming FIRE CHARGES which also provide LIGHT in the DARK STOCK EXCHANGE FLOOR as they're fired rapidly.

Thankfully Grace was already out, and her sword shifts to something much more akin to a giant club, and she wields it with a master's grace, attempting to counter, and shatter any of the incoming boon-buckage flying in her direction but… …There's a lot of it, and she does intercept a lot of it … Just not all of it. Other-bits shatter on her armor, bruising the flesh underneath, and a few of the boon-balls fly into the her stylish cloak of holding … Where they remain.

But then instead of counter-attacking the scary monster-top-hat-cat-of-doom, she teleports over to Elia, and points her left gauntlet at the bleeding, somewhat bandaged foxgirl and … red energy flickers across her, clinging to her weapons much like it did with Arthur, and enhancing her ability to do damage, radiant azure energy does the same, clinging to her body, enhancing her toughness and causing her wounds to heal themselves at the same time. "I should probably be attacking, cat-thing, but…" She grins, "The truce does extend here, thus I will treat you as a full ally." Her grin widens a bit more and her eyes glow a dull infernal red, "Please don't die, and remember, every lie you tell, brings you closer to my realm."

Being smashed against the opposite wall is definitely a challenge for Arthur's pain tolerance, which is to say he winds up screaming and falling down off the creauture, down the two stories. Apparently he didn't account for the fact that removing an armor layer tends to be exactly the kind of thing that provokes a massive bossmode shift and results in this sort of supercharge. But when a boss turns red and gets huge, that means you're on the home stretch! Or so thinks Arthur, through a haze of pain and the awkward sensation of bones only barely knitting themselves together as a result of the generous regeneration energy granted to Arthur by Tshallandria.

"Oooogh…" He puts the hand that isn't occupied by his dark battlebroom to his head. "Ow ow ow, augh…" Then he's scrambing back to both feet. Well, since he wound up behind the thing, now that he's got this opportunity, he can take a free shot at it from behind. He takes a few steps back, then gets a running jump towards the thing from behind. With a leap enhanced by the best the echeladder can provide, Arthur dives broom-first at the thing, intending to dive amid an assortment of fire charges INTO the thing, and hopefully THROUGH the thing, using the broom as a drill to punch through the stomach and hopefully burst right out the front, breaching the containment of boondollars to some degree. At least, this is what Arthur hopes! It might result in him just smashing flatly against the back of that thing, after all.

Eila has certainly heard of throwing money at a problem.

However, she never envisioned it being so… literal.

The foxwitch ducks and weaves between boondollar shots, trying hard to avoid taking a real hit, but inevitably a few of the dollars are less-than-avoidable. Eila's brilliant white shield appears, and the boondollar rounds smack into it, causing huge ripples across the surface of the shield and draining her magical energy significantly.

After Tshallandria appears, Eila simply sits by and recieves the various buffs. Being healed by a Fed is kinda strange but… hellsQueen /is/ an ally for the time being. Eila gives Tshallandria a nervous stare, and even gulps as Tshall comments on Eila's less-than-perfect honesty. Eila's ultimate response is nervous laughter, followed by, "Um… thanks… haha…"

Well hopefully if her wounds close up a bit she wont have to explain to the other witches that she got into a barfight.

Taking advantage of the more offense-related aspects of Tshall's blessings, Eila circles around the POINT ZERO ONE PURRRRCENT, firing a steady stream of danmaku bullets which all spread out to form beautiful patterns of light. Eila tries not to think too deeply on Tshall's words as she fights.

So, first…

The Nakoordinator looks at Nue, before reaching behind him to the radio. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I miscalculated, naknaknak!" Before putting down the microphone and slowly turning the radio off.

Then he fucking bolts, whipping out a crowbar and ratcheting open the door before disappearing into the dark building with a chorus of naknaknak.

He leaves behind the CONTROL ROOM. In the corner is a SPORTS NAK bag full of guns and ammunition. In another bag is a big plus sign and a happy nakkadile face emblazoned on a red bag - full of medical supplies. There's a sack of BOONDOLLARS under the desk, as well as the FLOOR PLANS to the LOGALSE and lots of technical information about the building. Could be useful!

There's BIG STUFF happening with the rest of the DONS and BOSSES though. Endria holds back the STUCK UP POINT ZERO ONE PURRRRCENT with her array of firey DISPENSERS, blasting the cat and knocking off many of its hats and monocles as it guards its face with its BOONGUNS. Tshallandria empowers more of the BOSSES, batting away the attacks sent at her with PANACHE as she becomes a veritible eye to the projectile boondollar hurricane.

Behind her, Eila unloads her danmaku weapons, weaving a veritible counter-hailstorm into the monster's gut, weakening it considerably.

With a roar, it starts sucking up any assorted booncoins scattered around, visibly healing.

With all the assorted change sucked up, it's only natural Vruasa's PIEL FO BONODOLAR$!!1 is sucked up as well.

The INCREDIBLY SHITTY CURRENCY is drawn up and… The cat stops breathing in. It horks once, and then twice, danmaku blazing against it's chest.

Like a big rubber balloon, Arthur stretches at its back before driving through with his eldritch doombroom of classy slaying, flying through the danmaku hail with STYLE.


And everyone in the bank is showered with INCREDIBLE STACKS of CASH

Everyone is FILTHY FREAKING RICH! (Including Nue, whould would find that duffelbag full of cash? It's not boondollars. It's a sack of BOONBUCKS. Ca-CHING!)

Tshallandria wanders over to Arthur and then clasps him on the shoulder. "Good showing, Hero." A chuckle, "Comeon. Lets make sure your heart still works, I'll call the Minions over and they'll give us a ride back to the speakeasy…" Her eyes glow briefly and she grins. "Well done everyone!"

Log Notes: This was Vruasa's first trip to LOGAL. He earned the title, "The Tailor", and mostly just goofed around. Spotlight goes to Psyber and Prorth Edhuwi for introducing the concept of gang violence to the Nakkadiles.

The SECRET THING is a painting of Vruasa as Achilles. It is locked in his Sylladex for an indeterminate period of time.

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