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spooky-ghostwriter · 6 years

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Dressed to Kill - Chapter Fifteen

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Tsukiko lay in her bed, lazily watching Shiba Kariki gleam in the sunlight. As she'd hoped, Stiletto had been able to spare a hanging mount, and now the sword rested peacefully on the wall. Her trailer already felt much less empty, even with merely 28.2 inches of sword and sheath.

She couldn't stare at the sword forever. There was something bothering her.

Finally, she pushed herself off the bed. She grabbed Shiba Kariki off the wall as she passed it, making her way out of the trailer.

It only took her a few steps in the grass before Galen noticed her.

“Morning, Tsuki,” He said, walking in tandem.

“Morning,” said Tsukiko, not breaking stride.

“Are we going to try working Shiba Kariki into our act?” Galen asked, eyeing the sword.

“Wasn't planning on it. Mom and Dad freaked out enough about the knives during Stiletto's show. I don't need them worrying about me getting disemboweled during my own shows too.”

“Oh.” Galen stopped, then hastened his steps once more when he realized Tsukiko was going to continue moving.

“So then,” Galen tried again. “You're going to practice with Shiba for dryad attacks, right?”

“I'll have to get around to that at some point,” said Tsukiko. “I'd rather use the Tank Top for most dryads, but I'll make sure I can use Shiba too if I have to.”

“Okay, fine,” Galen said dully. “I'll just ask – where are you going that you need a sword for?”

“Right here.”

Magician Trailer One stood before them. Galen recalled their first visit some time ago, and how Tsukiko had found a seventh Religalia in it. He also recalled that Tsukiko hadn't had any need for a weapon last time they'd entered.

“I'm still lost,” said Galen.

“Remember how I picked the lock last time?” Tsukiko asked, putting her fingers on the door. “Well, I came back later, and there was this.”

A chain sat wrapped around the door handle, keeping the door from moving. A lock hung, grasping several of the links. It was not a key lock, but a combination lock with a five-digit code.

“I guess they noticed you went in before,” said Galen. “In fact, they might know it was you specifically. You can pick a key lock, but I'm guessing you can't get through this.”

“I can't pick it, no,” Tsukiko admitted, tossing the sheath of Shiba Kariki. Galen caught it automatically.

“Whoa, wait – ” Galen stammered. “Don't!”

“Oh?” Tsukiko asked, readying her stance. “Why not?”

“Well, I'll ignore the fact that we're clearly not supposed to be in there, since I'm guessing you don't care about that yourself.”

“Good. I don't.”

“But you're planning on swinging your family's most treasured possession into a metal chain?” Galen asked. “It's not a thick chain, sure, but do you really think Shiba will be all right?”

“Well – ”

“And I have to ask anyway, why chop your way into the trailer in the first place?” Galen asked in exasperation. “You already looked around. What good does it do to look again?”

“My mom almost died the other day,” Tsukiko said, tightening her grip on the sword's handle. “You heard about that, right?”

“You mentioned it.”

“I figured I would have. Now, that got me thinking. I couldn't use the Bow Tie on that dryad because the arrows went through the vines, and it's the only Religalia I had on hand at the time. It's the only one I can wear all day, even during shows and stuff.”

“The High Heals?” Galen suggested.

“Clearly you've never tried walking in heels all day.”

“Can't say I have.”

“Anyway,” Tsukiko said, “The point is, I want these dryads dealt with. I want them dead and buried and gone so I can go back to thinking about clothes for comfort and style instead of which ones I need to make sure no one around me dies because I chose the wrong outfit.”

Galen didn't have a good reply to this.

“And this trailer has in it one more Religalia,” said Tsukiko. “Ol' Vercy has a habit of not telling me everything I need to know, and the first Religalia he did tell me about was a tank. An actual tank. That makes me think that maybe this one that he didn't bother telling me about is the most powerful Religalia yet.”

“Or maybe it's the worst one and there was no point telling you about it,” said Galen. “It could just be a really sucky magic costume.”

“We'll see,” said Tsukiko, brandishing her weapon. “I'll just cut a hole in the door instead of the lock, and then we'll figure out how it works and what it does.”

“Can't we just ask Vercy?”

“Not if we want an answer.”

“Tsuki – ”

Tsukiko brought the sword upwards. She prepared to swing, but a pressure stopped her arm. She saw a strong hand gripping her forearm. Her vision followed the hand, and she saw that it was Vercingetorix who had stopped her, not Galen.

“I really wish you had've just asked,” Vercingetorix said, in the tone of voice Tsukiko recalled from teachers annoyed with her for sleeping in class.

He sighed.

“But perhaps I should have been more upfront with you,” He admitted. “If you promise not to take your sword to any circus property, I'll explain the Religalia in this trailer.”

Vercingetorix let go of Tsukiko's hand. She sheathed the sword.

“Deal.”

“Come in too, Galen,” Vercingetorix gestured for the boy. “You're also able to use Religalia, so this is as relevant to you as it is to Tsukiko.”

Galen moved closer as Vercingetorix held the lock in his hand. He couldn't help but see the combination; 6-2-0-1-4.

2014, He recognized. Three years ago, perhaps? June of 2014?

Still lost in thought, he followed Vercingetorix and Tsukiko inside.

The air felt more breathable to Tsukiko than the last time she'd entered the trailer, but she heard Galen expel a dry cough. Tsukiko's own throat felt a little itchy, but she managed to suppress her own coughs. Vercingetorix didn't seem the least bit affected by the air

“I assume you've heard of our previous stage magician,” Vercingetorix said. He clicked the light switch, but the bulb only flickered for a moment before returning to darkness.

“Freya the Magnificent!” Tsukiko said, a hint of excitement in her voice. “I saw some of her old videos. She's amazing at quick-change stuff. I'd like to meet her some day.”

Vercingetorix paused.

“I see you haven't heard everything.”

He sighed once more.

“Freya is dead. She died... about two or three years ago.”

Galen looked at his feet.

'About' two or three years ago? No, Galen thought. I'm sure you know exactly what day in June it was when she died.

He looked over at Tsukiko. She was equally silent, perhaps embarrassed by her excitement over Freya's performances. Vercingetorix didn't seem to mind, or was already so focused on his memories that Tsukiko's words hadn't affected him.

Instead, Vercingetorix stepped over to one of the framed pictures on the wall, rubbing a finger through the years of dust.

“We first opened the Alesia Circus twenty years ago,” He said. “At the time, there were only five performers – Ravindra, Stiletto, Henry, Pierre and Freya. I worked to manage the acts, and also played the assistant role as needed, and we hired whoever was available as short-time crew members. It was a modest organization, but that actually worked in our favour. We toured not only across North America, but even across Europe and Asia. It was only when Pierre's collection of animals grew that we began focusing our efforts on the one continent.”

Tsukiko and Galen began to wonder what this had to do with anything, but they let Vercingetorix reminisce.

“When we first opened the circus, Freya had a single Religalia – the Tank Top. During our travels, she acquired a few more. She never mentioned where she got them, and I never dared to ask. They were the greatest secrets of her stage magician ways, and as I always do and always will, I respected her secrets. Each Religalia took her performances to new heights, and that was enough for me.”

Vercingetorix walked slowly to the other side of the trailer, towards the black cloak on the mannequin.

“At the time, we never considered using our arts to fight. It was unthinkable. But when the first dryads came, we had no choice.

“The first attack came as a complete surprise – naturally, I suppose no one could have expected it. Whatever the case, we were unprepared. There were many deaths, most of which were audience members. If it hadn't been for Freya, it would have been a massacre, but she and that Tank Top saved all the lives she could.”

He looked up at the robe's hood, as if it contained a face listening to his story.

“We modified our performances so that they could be used for battle. It was not too difficult of a task, considering Freya's artillery, Ravindra's flames and Stiletto's weaponry. The dryads continued to come, and we were able to fight them on even terms. We managed to get through the next several years without any casualties, staff or guest. It had become a normal part of our routine.

“Freya missed the days of peace and harmony. We all did, of course, but Freya was such a kind soul. I believe the lives she failed to save on that first day still haunted her. So, after studying the Religalia, she came to a conclusion – she would construct her own.”

Vercingetorix held the robe by the hem and looked at the torn hole in its fabric.

“This Religalia is Freya's creation. I couldn't bring myself to ask about the process, and I regret not having done so. I have no idea how she was able to create a Religalia. The most horrible part is that this robe contains none of the joy or kindness that I associated so dearly with Freya.

“Tank Top. High Heals. Bow Tie. Jumper. Cargo Pants. Boxer Shorts. Each one of them has such a childish name. Freya found it hard to talk about any of them without a faint smile on her face – all of them except the one she created herself.

“This Religalia was fuelled by Freya's desire to annihilate all the dryads,” said Vercingetorix. “There is no joy or humour in this outfit. It is simply called the Death Robe.”

Tsukiko felt a chill run down her spine.

“Each Religalia has a unique method of activation,” Vercingetorix continued. “Swiping the hat of the Tank Top, for example. Freya believed that the Death Robe's method was more...” He paused, thinking of the right word. “Esoteric.”

“What is it?” Tsukiko asked.

“We don't know for sure,” said Vercingetorix. “But Freya believed that, if she were to die wearing the robe, she would gain some power necessary to destroy all the dryads in one fell swoop.

“Of course, we never tested it. How could we? I forbade her from using the Death Robe, even wearing it. Then, years later, we were caught off-guard in a dryad attack. Freya had been safely using the Tank Top, but I was caught by a Venus flytrap monster. Horrible creature.”

He turned, still not facing Tsukiko and Galen, but no longer facing the robe either.

“Freya changed from the Tank Top to the Bow Tie. She killed the fly trap in an instant and saved my life. But the other dryads took the opportunity. They caught her while she was worrying about me.”

Tsukiko and Galen could hear the wavering in his voice as he continued.

“It was a horrible wound. I tried to get her to a hospital, or at least to get the High Heals, but she stopped me. She told me that she was ready to test her creation. And then she showed me that she'd been wearing the Death Robe all along, folded beneath the Tank Top.

“And so, she died.” Vercingetorix concluded.

“What happened?” Galen asked.

“Nothing,” Vercingetorix practically spat the word. “The Religalia did nothing.” He slammed his fist into the wall of the trailer.

“We at the circus used to be able to wear Religalia, you know,” Vercingetorix muttered. “It was rare, but Stiletto healed Freya's minor wounds on occasion, and I used the Cargo Pants and Boxer Shorts myself. But that day, all of our beliefs in the impossible were shattered.

“And the worst part is, I can't even blame the dryads for her death,” He said. “It was me. All me. It's supposed to be a manager's job to keep everyone safe. But in that moment, I had a choice between forcing someone to heal her with the High Heals or allowing her to test the Death Robe. I believed that she'd come back, without a scratch on her, with some godlike power that would make the rest of the battle a farce. I believed that with all of the conviction in my heart, no matter how impossible it sounds! And still...”

He trailed off.

“I'm sorry. I got a little off track,” Vercingetorix said, clearly trying to force some calmness into his voice. “The point is... I never told you about the Death Robe because I never wanted you to make the same mistake Freya did.”

“Why not get rid of it altogether, then?” Tsukiko asked.

“Get rid of it?!” Vercingetorix demanded, suddenly almost yelling. “This was something Freya believed in enough to die for! You want me to throw it in the trash with the half-eaten candied apples?!”

Tsukiko had paled; the man's face was only inches away from hers, and filled with fury.

Vercingetorix composed himself.

“Forgive me,” He muttered. “Perhaps I'm still clinging too tightly onto the past. But I can't – I simply can't – dispose of a Religalia.”

“I understand,” Tsukiko said softly. “Thank you for telling me about all this.”

Vercingetorix nodded halfheartedly.

Tsukiko could tell this was a painful subject, and she regretted ever having brought it up. Still, she would have regretted it even further if she brought it up without getting something from it, making the whole endeavor pointless, and so she forced herself to ask another question.

“Vercingetorix,” said Tsukiko, “When Freya was talking about the Death Robe, or... just in general, did she ever mention the phrase 'cold blood, cold steel'?

She braced herself for this question to inspire another fit of anger in Vercingetorix, or some other strong emotion.

Instead, Vercingetorix simply looked confused.

“Cold blood, cold steel?” He repeated.

Vercingetorix shook his head.

“I've never heard that phrase before,” Vercingetorix said. “What makes you think it has something to do with the Death Robe?”

Galen continued to stay distinctly silent, deciding to let Tsukiko reply however she thought was best.

“I kind of... uh... tried it on,” Tsukiko admitted hesitantly. “Sorry about that.”

“Ah,” Vercingetorix said. “That day that Galen was standing outside...”

Galen awkwardly cleared his throat.

“But even simply trying it on wouldn't explain where that phrase came from,” said Vercingetorix. “You didn't manage to activate it, did you?”

“No. I don't think so, anyway.” Tsukiko said. She prepared to explain everything about the voice, but it only took her a few words to say it properly. “I heard a weird voice whispering 'cold blood, cold steel' while I was wearing it.”

“I'll look into it and let you know if I find anything,” Vercingetorix offered. “But I have no idea what that could mean.”

Vercingetorix, Tsukiko and Galen all gave the Death Robe a glance; one of both curiosity and concern.

#dressed to kill #original fiction #tsukiko

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cacophonouscatharsis · 6 years

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DM’s Log #11: The Doppelganger

This session our player for Vercingetorix wasn’t able to make it, so unfortunately we weren’t able to find out what happened to him after he fled on his own away from the guards yet. Next session we will though!

The session began with Yorgrax stepping into Senior Officer Logarius’s office. They spoke at length, and Yorgrax managed to receive his citizenship pass as promised, along with a new quest. Logarius had his men inspect the sewers that Yorgrax and Torix cleared out earlier in the day, and they found several strange tunes carved into the stone walls around the hole dug out by the goblins. Logarius doesn’t know much about them, but he says that Enrolc, the court mage for the previous king of Immulricks, might know more about them. He says that they live in a lavish estate and laboratory along the path to the city of New Uldrenet. Yorgrax accepts the quest, and then meets back up with his fellow Dragonkin Torix. He gets a citizenship pass as well, allowing them to enter the city. However, the night draws near, so they decide to sleep and then go to Enrolc once the sun comes up.

Meanwhile Grace and Ib are at the Resplendent Melody, having another drink and pondering how they’ll get enough money to buy they’re own passes, in order to pass through the country freely on their way to Repartania. They decide that perhaps the other members of the party would be willing to share some of the gold they managed to acrue during the quest since they helped out quite a bit. They both go to sleep, and the next morning they stay near the door of the inn for when Yorgrax and Torix eventually leave. Grace talks to them and they eventually make a deal, they they’ll give her and Ib the gold now, as long as that amount plus interest is returned at some point. They agree and the two clerics go to the registration office to purchase their passes. After that they all head out of the port town and up the road to New Uldrenet, the living conditions steadily getting better as they draw nearer. Eventually they come upon a massive gate connected to two watchtowers on either side, guarded by several knights with cannons lining the walls. The last barrier to the city. On the right is a dirt path that leads to a sprawling estate, and past that a cylindrical ivory tower.

The party goes up the path, seeing that the garden that surrounds the estate itself is all wilted and dead. When they go to knock on the door, it slowly opens, revealing that the house hasn’t been looked after, and looters seemed to have stolen everything of value. No ones lived here in a long time. After thoroughly searching the building the party leaves and tries the laboratory instead. They open the door, and once again its already slightly open, only this time the interior is lively with bubbling rest tubes and a fireplace crackling. Papers with scribbled handwriting and crude depictions of beastly anatomy cover the carpeted floors. A creature about the length of a humans forearm is sleeping atop a wooden perch several feet off the ground. Once the party draws closer it awakens, hissing at them as small plumes of partially translucent smoke creep out its nostrils. It does not attack however, rather it not so graciously flies to the ground and begins ascending a spiral staircase sticking out from the wall that leads to several other floors of the tower.

The characters follow the small creature, a pseudodragon to be specific, as it hops up each individual stare. It leads them to the second floor, and other circular room covered in paperwork and magical trinkets. What’s different though is that a halfling is fast asleep on the floor, dressed in a black robe that’s far far to big for him, as it spreads out around him in all directions. Yorgrax wakes him up, and as he awakens he’s immediately running around looking at paperwork, paying little mind to the party as he mumbles to himself, dragging the end of his robe along the floor. They ask if he is indeed Enrolc and after some contemplation he agrees that he is indeed Enrolc. Needless to say the party is skeptical, considering this is not the behavior of a kings court wizard. They ask for some sort of proof, and the halfling goes out of the room and up the straircase to the third floor. The party remains on the second floor for his return, but who returns is not the halfling.

Standing at the door with a haphazardly clumped together pile of paperwork is an elf, barely even in his teenage years. Once again the party is confused, and ask him what happened to the Enrolc. The elf is confused, and says he is in fact the one they seek. He is dressed in the same robe as the halfling was, only it’s a tad less baggy. The party reduces pretty quickly that he must be some sort of shapeshifter, and they ask him if their suspicions are correct. Enrolc laughs and says they didn’t even notice that they had shapeshifted while they were getting the paperwork. They refer to themselves as a doppleganger, a race of humanoids that can polymorph into a simalar being at will. Only difference is Enrolc can’t quite control it, and changes shape at random. They’re so used to this that they don’t even notice when they do in fact change. After that the party does what they came here to do, show he shapechanger the depictions of the symbols found in the sewers beneath Central Port. Enrolc looks them over and quickly figures out that the symbols are Qualith, a rarely seen written language used by Mind Flayers. These runes specifically are either used for summoning or telaportation rituals. After discovering that mind flayers were somewhere underneath Central Port, Enrolc grabs a map of the continent of Vuusrin, one with a rough circle drawn on it with several smaller circles along the line of the original. They say that there have been several sightings of mind flayers close to the surface, with similar runes carved near the entrances.

And unfortunately we had to cut the session short there. We didn’t really have any time left. Overall it was a rather uneventful session. There wasn’t even any combat, however next session should hopefully speeds things up nicely. We’ll see!

#DM’s Log #DMs log #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #D&D #DnD

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spooky-ghostwriter · 6 years

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Dressed to Kill - Chapter Fourteen

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Next Chapter –>

It was hard to imagine for Tsukiko and Galen, but far outside the realm of plant monsters and magical clothing, there were still people living completely normal lives. Included among the majority of the population who had no idea that dryads were anything more than myth were Elizabeth Tanner and Takehiko Takenaka.

As was usual for a morning, Elizabeth looked over a newspaper with a steaming mug of coffee. Takehiko sat opposite her, polishing Shiba Kariki.

Elizabeth took a sip. Then she shook her head and pushed the mug away.

“Hotel coffee is the worst,” She decided.

“There was a Starbucks across the street,” Takehiko said. “We can stop there.”

Elizabeth stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Now that's clever.”

“Hm?”

“Think about it. The hotel and Starbucks could have a deal. Most hotels give their guests coffee for free. But if the coffee were terrible...” She jerked a condescending thumb towards her mug. “People would be more inclined to go to Starbucks. This way, the hotel makes sure people pay for something that's expected for free. And the Starbucks gets plenty of business from all the people in the hotel. It's a win-win.”

“I – I guess...”

“Well, I won't play their little game,” Elizabeth said, her voice full of determination. She grabbed the mug once more and drained as much as she could in one gulp.

“Okay!” She exhaled, newly refreshed. She spread the newspaper over the tiny table the hotel had allotted them. “Tsukiko has a show at 12:30. We should wait to talk to her until after the show, if possible.”

“Sounds good,” Takehiko agreed. “What should we do until then? I hear the Alesia Circus has lions that – ”

“Takehiko. We're not here to see lions.”

“Yes, but – ”

“We need to find Tsukiko's manager. That... Vercingetorix guy.” Elizabeth drank the last of her coffee, then made a face as she tried not to gag. “I'm betting the manager won't be out in the open, but if we can find Galen, I'm sure he'll take us to him.”

Takehiko sheathed Shiba Kariki. He reached under the table and withdrew the disguise that had allowed him to bring his katana into the hotel at all. A black, ruffled sheet slid over the decorative sheath of his sword. Combined with a fake metal tip glued to the end of the blade, what had once been unmistakably a katana now looked like a simple umbrella.

“Ready?” Elizabeth asked.

“Ready.”

The static of a walkie-talkie crackled.

“Vercingetorix here,” said the man holding it. “Come in, areas 1, 2 and 4.”

“Area 1 here, standing by.”

“Area 2, copy.”

“Area 4, copy.”

“We have a situation in Area 3,” said Vercingetorix.

The situation was a seven-foot-tall green woman. Her body was formed from thin vines, coiled tightly around each other. Shiny pointed leaves in groups of three jutted out of the plant at random. The vines lashed out, smashing a food stall to splinters.

“That was my favourite popcorn stand, you jackass!”

In charge of handling the situation was Tsukiko. She stepped between Vercingetorix and the vine-woman, brandishing the compound bow conjured from her tie.

“Please confirm that the other areas are clear,” Vercingetorix added calmly.

One by one, each voice on the walkie-talkie said some variation of “All clear.”

“Understood.” Vercingetorix allowed himself a small sigh of relief. “Make sure no guests come into area 3. Set up Stiletto's 1-o'-clock show in stage 2 instead...”

Vercingetorix sidestepped a whip-like lash of vines. What was once a hot dog stand was now a pile of rubble. “And inform the guests that some of the food stalls are undergoing maintenance.”

Tsukiko fired a handful of arrows. They flew perfectly into the dryad's torso, but the vines making up its body loosened in an instant, such that the arrows had nothing to stick into. They escaped the back of the dryad unimpeded, striking the ground a few feet behind. Tsukiko looked at her bow and frowned.

“Also, reschedule Tsukiko's 12:30 show to 12:45,” Vercingetorix said dully. “Finally, we'll need someone to bring the High Heals and Tank Top to area 3. Vercingetorix out.”

Vercingetorix put a hand on Tsukiko's shoulder. “We'll have the Tank Top in a few minutes. Just keep your distance until it arrives.”

“I can't stay too far away,” Tsukiko muttered. A wire slithered out of her bow tie and up her arm, then formed an arrow. “If its attention isn't on me, it could go after the guests.”

The creature swung an arm forward. The vines forming its hand flew, orbiting Tsukiko for a brief moment. Vercingetorix tightened his grip on her shoulder and pulled her away; the vines snapped together where her throat was a second previously.

“Keep your distance!” Vercingetorix ordered.

Now outside what they considered to be the dryad's range, he and Tsukiko circled the field. The dryad traced an opposite circle.

“There aren't any guests in this area,” Vercingetorix reiterated. “Just focus on killing it and getting out without injuries.”

“Hey! Mr. Vercingetorix!” A voice called.

“I stand corrected. There is one guest here,” Vercingetorix grumbled. He ran back, leaving Tsukiko alone with the creature.

Was that voice...? Tsukiko began a thought, but the dryad took a threatening stance; she pulled an arrow back.

Vercingetorix made his way to the perimeter of yellow tape, very clearly reading DO NOT CROSS. To his annoyance, two guests were on the wrong side of it. The man who had called his name was tall, Asian and mostly bald. Beside him stood a blonde, bespectacled woman. He felt he'd seen them somewhere before, but couldn't place -

“Mr. and Mrs. Tanner!” He realized suddenly.

“Mr. Takenaka, actually,” Elizabeth said, gesturing to her husband.

“Ah, of course,” said Vercingetorix. The three of them briefly shook hands. “I'm afraid Tsukiko is currently getting ready for her next show. I'll tell her that the two of you are here – after her show, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you.”

“That would be lovely,” said Elizabeth. “But first, we'd like to discuss something with you.”

“Ah, well...” Vercingetorix stammered. “This has been a very busy day, and unfortunately, I haven't the time.” He clasped his hands. “Please forgive my rudeness. If you come back in two days when we're packing up to leave to the next city, I'm sure I will be able to set aside a few minutes. Will that be acceptable?”

“I'm afraid not,” said Takehiko, holding his umbrella in front of his face. “We have very important matters to discuss.” He peeled away the false covering, revealing Shiba Kariki in its flower-engraved sheath. Vercingetorix eyed the sword with caution.

“Specifically, we want to talk about our daughter's safety,” Elizabeth concluded.

“Ah.” Vercingetorix said, a full octave higher than his normal speaking voice. He cleared his throat, returning his tone to normal. “I assure you, our performers take every safety precaution necessary. I understand your concerns, and the concerns of everyone who fears the worst for our performers, but Miss Tanner is in absolutely no danger during her shows.”

“During her shows,” Elizabeth repeated harshly. “That's the sort of eerily specific language I've heard from all too many liars in my business.”

“We know Tsukiko isn't in any danger during her shows,” Takehiko said, one hand climbing up to Shiba Kariki's handle. “We made sure that she and Galen made all of her tricks so safe that nothing could go wrong.”

“In twelve years of her doing magic tricks back home, the worst accident she ever had was a paper cut,” Elizabeth agreed.

“Then there is no cause for concern!” Vercingetorix said cheerfully. “Tsukiko is in full control of her shows, and Galen is still almost as involved as he was back then. The two of them – ”

“We're not talking about her shows, Mr. Vercingetorix!” Elizabeth snapped. “We're talking about what you've been pressuring her to take part in! All the dangers you've been forcing her into! The dangers that her stage magic couldn't have possibly prepared her for!”

Vercingetorix paled. They couldn't mean...

“Did you think no one would ever find out?” Takehiko demanded.

Vercingetorix grit his teeth. His crew had taken every precaution they could to clean up after dryad attacks. It was true that, in the past, he'd had situations where eye-witnesses had seen the dryads. In most cases, simply removing all evidence had been enough to avoid suspicion. Other times, he'd had to convince guests that they'd seen a secret attraction coming to the circus in the future. When all else failed, hush money worked wonders.

But the last time any citizen had any evidence of a dryad attack had been years ago. His mind raced, thinking of anything he might have missed.

They must have learned about the pumpkins from Tsukiko's Halloween show, He realized. Those pumpkins were unexpected. But still, we must have removed all the evidence. Even if they heard from someone about the dryad attacks, they couldn't have proof. I need to figure out what they know.

“I am not sure to what you are referring,” said Vercingetorix. “When she's not performing, Tsukiko spends most of her time with Galen, planning future shows.”

“You're not sure?” Elizabeth asked. “Well, let me show you something that might remind you.”

She ruffled through her coat pocket.

Impossible! Vercingetorix felt himself sweat. Physical evidence of a dryad attack?

Elizabeth withdrew a folded piece of paper.

A photo?

She unfolded it, then held it in front of Vercingetorix's face. As Vercingetorix feared, it was photographic evidence. In fact, it was a photo he recognized.

Vercingetorix had to keep himself from breathing a sigh of relief.

The photo depicted Tsukiko standing in front of a wooden target. Stiletto stood opposite her, throwing a knife. It was chosen for the website in an instant, being the only picture that had ever captured one of Stiletto's blades mid-flight.

“Tsukiko would never volunteer for something like this!” Takehiko cried.

“Now explain yourself!” Elizabeth ordered.

Vercingetorix cleared his throat. “I understand your concerns. The fact of the matter is that Tsukiko did volunteer to be Stiletto's target girl.”

“Liar!” Takehiko spat.

Elizabeth, however, stayed silent.

“This is something you'll have to discuss with Tsukiko herself,” said Vercingetorix. “I have never, nor will I ever, force anyone to be a target in one of Stiletto's shows. However, now that I'm aware of what you're talking about, I understand why you may have thought that this was my doing. In fact, when Stiletto first approached Tsukiko about the idea, Tsukiko refused and was adamant that she'd never do it.”

“Then why did she start?” Takehiko asked.

“As I said, you'll have to discuss the matter with Tsukiko herself. I cannot speak for her.” Vercingetorix spoke calmly, but his voice raised. It was full of conviction as he continued, “Having been Stiletto's target myself a few times, I can tell you with the utmost confidence that there is no danger in her act. If Tsukiko is willing to perform, I am not going to tell her not to. The only reason she has for doing what she does is that she feels perfectly safe in it. I promise you that.”

“What a load of crap,” Takehiko hissed. “Elizabeth, let's find Tsukiko and get her the hell out of here.” He began walking, aiming to move past Vercingetorix.

“Wait.”

Takehiko looked back at Elizabeth. “You don't honestly believe this guy, do you?”

“Why didn't you just tell us the picture was fake?” Elizabeth asked. “I honestly thought it was, at first. If you wanted us to believe that Tsukiko wasn't in any danger, then telling us the act was fake would have been the easiest way.”

“I would never dismiss Stiletto's skill in such a way,” Vercingetorix said adamantly. “The picture is one hundred percent real. The blades are one hundred percent real. And if Stiletto were to miss even once, someone would likely die. The act is safe because Stiletto's skill makes it safe.”

Elizabeth frowned, unsure of what to think.

“We'll still have to talk to Tsukiko,” she said. “But... thank you. I believe you.”

Takehiko shook his head.

“All right.” He said. With a sharp gaze towards Vercingetorix, he added, “But if Tsukiko says something's wrong, we'll be back.”

“Certainly,” said Vercingetorix. “Now please, enjoy the rest of your time at the Alesia Circus.”

Tsukiko's parents turned their backs to him, turning to leave.

For a moment, I truly believed they knew about the dryads, Vercingetorix thought. I suppose, as much faith as I have in Stiletto, I should have in those that clean up after battles. It is because of their hard work, skill and talent that no one but us knows the truth.

His thoughts were interrupted as Tsukiko fell from a several-foot flight, half-skidding and half-rolling through the dirt beside him. Her bow clattered to the ground. It only lasted for a moment before breaking apart into thin wires, which retracted towards Tsukiko's throat and formed a bow tie.

“Oww,” Tsukiko moaned, struggling to get back on her feet. “Vercy! Where's the damn Tank Top already? This thing's gonna kill me!”

Vercingetorix faltered.

“Oh,” said Tsukiko, only now noticing the people turning back to face Vercingetorix again. “Hi Mom. Hi Dad.”

Elizabeth and Takehiko stared in stunned silence.

Vercingetorix thought to himself about how he could explain what Tsukiko had just said. His thoughts were interrupted as he realized that Tsukiko's parents weren't staring at him, nor at Tsukiko, but behind them.

The dryad loomed overhead. It had a few metallic arrows sticking out of it, but the vines that made up its being writhed and flung them back onto the dirt. The beast roared; an eerie scream that conveyed nothing but rage and bloodlust.

The creature's arm unfurled; it swung a lash of vines towards Tsukiko. She prepared to dodge them, as she had done with other, similar attacks. Before she could, a strong weight collided into her. Her mother tackled her out of the way, the two of them rolling out of the attack's range.

Takehiko stood between the beast and his family. He threw Shiba Kariki's sheath aside; the newly-polished blade glimmered in the morning sun.

“Are you okay, Tsuki?” Elizabeth asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, but – ”

Tsukiko felt some warm liquid drip onto her stomach. She looked down; both her and Elizabeth's shirts were stained with an increasing amount of blood.

Tsukiko herself felt no pain in her stomach.

“Oh god...” Tsukiko gasped.

Elizabeth clutched her gut. The realization dawned on her slowly; that underneath her hand was not shirt nor skin, but exposed muscle and blood. She recoiled at the sight of her crimson hand. Her hand shook. Tsukiko watched in horror as her mother's eyes rolled back in their sockets; she passed out.

“Mom!” Tsukiko shrieked.

Takehiko turned his head to Tsukiko and Elizabeth. It was only for an instant, but the dryad took full advantage of his lapse in concentration. One of its arms unfurled, and the vines wrapped around him. Shiba Kariki fell out of the man's hands as the bonds tightened, trapping Takehiko against the dryad's body.

Another barrage of vines extended, grasping Elizabeth's arms and legs. Vercingetorix pulled Tsukiko to her feet, but it was too late for her mother.

In an instant, both of Tsukiko's parents were caught by the dryad; their bodies bound by the tentacle-like vines that made up its body. Elizabeth was still limp, her eyes closed. Blood continued to flow freely from the wound in her stomach. Takehiko, on the other hand, remained very much conscious; his eyes widened in terror.

The vines making up the dryad's face shifted. The way they constricted against themselves made the face more defined and more eerily human-like.

The mouth opened. This time, it was not to roar, but to speak.

“Give,” The dryad spoke, a voice unlike any human Tsukiko could imagine. “Give... bow tie... and... I release. Keep... bow tie... and I... kill.”

Tsukiko felt a shiver move down her body.

“Don't listen to it!” Vercingetorix cried.

Tsukiko stared back at her father's terrified eyes.

“You can't give it the Bow Tie!” Vercingetorix reiterated. “It's – ”

“Shut up!” Tsukiko snapped. “If it will let my parents go, then – ”

“Do you think it will keep its promise?!” Vercingetorix roared. “It's a plant. It has no concept of honour!”

“He's right!” Takehiko yelled.

Tsukiko whipped her head back towards her father in confusion.

“I don't know what this thing is, but it's just trying to make you get close to it!” Takehiko cried. “Run away, Tsuki!”

“Running isn't an option either,” Vercingetorix said quietly. “We need to keep it here. Once we have the Tank Top, we can fight properly – and save your parents.”

“I will... allow... ten... seconds,” said the dryad. The vines around Tsukiko's parents tightened.

“Nine...”

“Okay!” Tsukiko tore the Bow Tie off her neck and swung her arm forward. “You can have it!”

“Tsukiko!” Vercingetorix cried.

Tsukiko walked towards the dryad, stepping slowly.

“I can't keep this up, Vercingetorix,” Tsukiko said, tears forming in her eyes. “I know you need me to be a soldier. To not have any emotions. To be able to make any sacrifice. But I can't. I can't be that kind of person!”

By now, Tsukiko was within what she knew for sure was the dryad's range.

“I can't do whatever it takes to kill the enemy. I can't just sit here watching my parents suffer to wait for an opportunity!”

She held out her hand, the Bow Tie dangling from her fingers. The dryad released its grip on Elizabeth. It stretched out its vines, the tips of its greenery touching the Religalia for the first time.

“I'm not a soldier, Vercy.”

The dryad had an extremely human expression on its face – one of a finally-satisfied, long-standing greed. It was focused so intently on the Religalia in Tsukiko's hand.

So focused, in fact, that it didn't notice what Tsukiko's other hand held.

“I'm a stage magician.”

In one movement, Tsukiko dropped the Bow Tie from her left hand and swung Shiba Kariki with her right. The shining blade cleaved through the plant's vines; the Bow Tie and the green hand that had only just touched it fell to the ground.

Now with both hands on the katana's handle, Tsukiko readied another swing. The dryad barely had time to register Tsukiko's treachery. Tsukiko brought the sword through the dryad's head, slicing it what would have been ear to ear.

The vines relinquished their grip on Takehiko. He crawled to Elizabeth's side. Still, Tsukiko couldn't risk believing that the dryad had died so easily. She slashed again and again, each blow tearing through the vines like butter. At the beginning, her mouth had been clenched shut, but it opened as she let out a wordless cry of anger and stress. She kept slashing. The tears that had formed in her eyes during her distraction speech clouded her vision. She could barely see the dryad now, but she drove the blade into it again. She slashed and cut and stabbed, faster and faster, more and more frantically.

Takehiko, now standing behind her, put his hand on Tsukiko's shoulder.

“Tsuki. It's over.”

Tsukiko exhaled deeply. Then, the two of them looked once more towards Elizabeth's fallen form. Tsukiko felt her father's grip tighten on her shoulder.

“Vercingetorix!” a voice cried from afar – a stagehand. “We brought the Tank Top and the High Heals!”

“Bring the High Heals over here!” Vercingetorix ordered, waving his arm in the air as a signal. “And hurry!”

Slowly, the fog began to dissipate. Little by little, Elizabeth felt herself return from the dream-like state that trapped her. Eventually, she felt simply like she was asleep – and being asleep meant one could wake up.

Elizabeth's eyes opened sluggishly.

She didn't immediately recognize her location. She felt a soft bed beneath her; smaller, yet more comfortable than what the hotel had provided. The room around her felt small. Though it was hard to tell when she was lying down and still feeling groggy, it seemed that the ceiling was barely six feet from the floor.

There were no distinguishing characteristics among the plain white walls, but two familiar voices made it obvious where she must be.

“See, all I did was push the tip against the ground with my heel,” Tsukiko was saying. “That propped the sword up against my leg, and I hid it with my arm.”

“I still don't understand,” Takehiko replied. “But it sounds very impressive.”

Elizabeth pushed herself into a sitting position. The shuffling noise alerted Tsukiko and Takehiko. They turned in the folding chairs they were occupying, now facing Elizabeth.

“Mom! You're awake!”

“I'm awake...? What happened?” Elizabeth asked, clutching her forehead.

Tsukiko gave a glance to her father. The man looked to his wife and bit his lip, deep in thought.

“You...”

Takehiko paused.

“You just passed out suddenly,” He said. “One of Alesia's medics said there wasn't anything seriously wrong with you. It might have been something you ate or drank, or maybe you weren't getting enough air when we were in all those crowds earlier.”

“I'm getting old,” Elizabeth reinterpreted. “Tsukiko, don't get old.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Elizabeth did a double-take towards Tsukiko.

“What's that on your shirt?” She asked. She looked down at herself. Both of the Tanner women had stomachs stained a deep crimson. “Oh, it's on my shirt too!”

“Uh...” Tsukiko racked the part of her brain that she'd taught to be able to deceive hundreds of people at a moment's notice.

“It's juice,” Tsukiko decided.

“Oh no, I must have been drinking it when I passed out, right?” Elizabeth asked. “Staining my daughter's best performing outfit...” She snorted. “Some mother I am.”

Tsukiko stood up immediately, knocking her folding chair to the floor. Her mind replayed Elizabeth's action. She'd jumped in between Tsukiko herself and a dryad, with no Religalia nor katana to defend herself. In all honesty, Tsukiko wasn't sure if she'd needed the help to avoid the dryad's attack, but regardless, she couldn't stand to hear even joking self deprecation.

“Mom,” Tsukiko said. “You saved me from a monster. You're the best mother ever.”

Elizabeth laughed.

“Okay, honey. I didn't hit my head that hard.”

“But – ”

“More importantly!” Elizabeth said suddenly. “We originally came here to talk about the danger you've been putting yourself in.”

“Wait, what? You know about that?”

“The knife show,” Takehiko said.

“Oh! Right! Of course that's what you meant.”

“Mr. Vercingetorix said you volunteered to be that woman's target girl,” said Elizabeth. “If he's been pressuring you to do something you're not comfortable with, we'll get you out of here. Contracts and paperwork be damned.”

“Yes,” said Takehiko. “We know that your magic shows don't put you in any danger. You and Galen are responsible enough to ensure that. But we've seen that now, you are putting yourself in situations where you could end up seriously hurt.”

Tsukiko was amused at how well her parents could turn two topics into a single conversation.

“If you can tell us that this is something you feel you need to do, then so be it,” Takehiko said. “But I want to be sure that you want to do it. Not that anyone's forcing you to. I want to know that you have your own personal reasons, whether your mother and I can understand them or not.”

Tsukiko gave a half-hearted smile. She knew how she'd describe her situation to her father. And, given Takehiko's reluctance to tell Elizabeth the truth about plant monsters, she felt she could have told her mother what she needed to hear as well.

How am I supposed to tell them both the right thing at the same time? She asked herself. Dad, you are not making this easy for me.

Then, she recalled her Halloween show. The feeling of wearing the Tank Top for the first time.

“This is something I want to do,” she said. “I studied magic to make people believe in the impossible. I want to give people something to let them escape real life, even just for a moment.”

Though Elizabeth didn't understand the importance, she noticed Tsukiko's gaze move down towards the red high-heeled shoes on her feet.

“Even knowing all the impossible things that I know, this circus is full of impossibilities,” Tsukiko said. “I can't understand how Stiletto throws knives so perfectly, or how Henry can sit on air.”

Or, she added mentally, how a pair of shoes can heal injuries.

“And it's because I don't understand that I want to be in the middle of it.”

“You want to learn how it's done?” Elizabeth asked.

“Not even that,” Tsukiko said. “It's better that I don't know.”

Elizabeth sighed.

“Sorry, Mom. I guess I can't explain it that well after all.”

“That's all right,” Elizabeth said. “Honestly, I didn't think I'd understand. Please, just stay safe.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Tsukiko said, her smile now full.

“Say, Tsukiko...” Takehiko looked around the walls of the trailer. “You look like you could use a bit of decoration in here.”

“Oh, yeah. I thought the same thing, but I don't know what to put up.”

Takehiko held his arm forward. In it, he held Shiba Kariki, hidden in its flower-engraved sheath.

“How about this?”

Elizabeth gaped. “You... you're serious?”

“What Mom said,” Tsukiko agreed. “How are you going to mow the lawn?”

“I'll think of something,” said Takehiko. “After talking to you today, I'm beginning to think it was a mistake to let you leave without Shiba. She'll protect you from whatever comes your way.”

“She? The sword's a girl?” Tsukiko asked her mother, who shrugged.

Takehiko, ignoring this, held the katana against the wall, over the window.

“Wouldn't it look great right here?”

“Maybe on the other side,” Tsukiko suggested. “That way, sunlight will shine right on the sheath and light up the flowers.”

“Ooh, good idea.”

“You'll want a small, simple wall mount,” Elizabeth suggested. “If you're friends with the knife thrower now, perhaps she can lend you something?”

“I'll ask her! Shiba Kariki is probably bigger than anything she throws – oh no, wait, she does have that battleaxe.”

The three of them spent some time discussing swords and decoration until finally, there was a knock at the door.

“Tsukiko,” Vercingetorix's voice called from outside. “You have twenty minutes before your show. Will you be able to perform today, or should I cancel the show?”

“Oh right!” Tsukiko cried. “Mom, you're feeling better, aren't you?”

“Of course, of course!” She said. “Go get ready for your show.”

For a moment, Tsukiko looked as though she was going to bolt through the door at full speed. Instead, she gave her parents a hug, and then bolted through the door at full speed.

Elizabeth and Takenaka exited their daughter's trailer, meeting Vercingetorix at the door.

“Tsukiko's shows sell out almost every time,” Vercingetorix said idly. “She and Galen bring a certain something to the circus that we didn't have before.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” said Elizabeth. “Thanks for giving her a place she fits in.”

“Oh, wait, no!” Takenaka yelled suddenly. “Her show starts in twenty minutes? And all her shows sell out...?”

Vercingetorix laughed. “Don't worry, I planned ahead.”

He held up a hand, two tickets held within it.

“Enjoy the show, Mr. Takehiko and Mrs. Tanner.”

#dressed to kill #original fiction #tsukiko

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spooky-ghostwriter · 8 years

Text

Dressed to Kill - Chapter Ten

<– Previous Chapter

Next Chapter –>

Vercingetorix led Galen to a different trailer. This one was almost as far away as possible before the employees' trailers crossed over into actual circus ground. It was almost twice the size of Galen's or Tsukiko's. The insignia on it was not a simple symbol, but the stylized cursive font of the Alesia Circus.

“This is your trailer, right?” Galen asked.

“Yes, but please don't take the size as a desire to live more luxuriously than the performers,” Vercingetorix said. “The excess space is used for meetings and organization.”

That had actually been the thought on Galen's mind, but he felt it was fair for the circus manager to have a grander trailer than performers – particularly new ones like Tsukiko and himself. His reason for asking confirmation had been different.

If he kept the old Religalia in that other trailer, it's odd to think he'd keep two in his own. Maybe there's something special about them.

This thought was still on his mind as Vercingetorix opened the door and led Galen inside.

True to Vercingetorix's word, the first thing visible was a large area ideal for meetings. A circular table sat in the center of the room, with six chairs around it. Around this meeting area was a perimeter of bookcases. Galen noticed with a sense of amusement that, for every book on circus acts or finances, there was one on plant life and botany. Several books of each subject were stacked on an expensive-looking desk, with some well-organized files and papers.

On closer inspection, Galen didn't actually see where Vercingetorix's living area was. There was a door near the entrance that, judging by his own trailer, likely led to a tiny bathroom. There was a second door on the far side, but if Galen's memory of the trailer's outside was any indication, it couldn't have been more space than a closet. A bed alone would have filled the space he imagined behind that door.

“One moment,” said Vercingetorix. He stepped into the door to the unknown space. Galen took the opportunity to look more closely at some of the books on the shelves.

Card Tricks Illustrated by the Amazing Amazio? Galen thought. He pulled it off the shelf and saw a signature scrawled on the cover. Wow, Tsuki would be jealous.

Once the single promised moment had expired, Vercingetorix returned, holding a pair of beige pants in his hands.

That can't possibly be –

“These are the Cargo Pants,” Vercingetorix introduced, with the same flair in his voice that Galen suspected he used to introduce Tsukiko to the Jumper.

Galen fought hard to ignore the possibility that this entire situation was a prank. He accepted the pants from Vercingetorix and held them against his own waist.

“Not a perfect fit, but it should be close enough,” Vercingetorix said. “They don't perform any real transformation, so it's not completely necessary that they fit properly anyway.”

“All right, I'll give them a try,” said Galen. He started in the direction of Vercingetorix's bathroom, then stopped.

“What's the other Religalia?” Galen wondered.

“The Boxer Shorts.”

“Okay, now you're screwing with me,” Galen said, turning back towards the manager.

“I assure you, I am not,” Vercingetorix said, holding up another garment. It was not, to Galen's relief, underwear. Instead, it was a pair of short pants, made of a shiny blue material. Gold stripes went down the legs and decorated the waistband. Together, the colours were fairly similar to the motifs of the Alesia Circus itself.

“Oh!” Galen said, almost laughing. “You mean boxing shorts. Shorts that a boxer would wear. For boxing.”

“Perhaps, but the proper name of this Religalia is Boxer Shorts,” said Vercingetorix. “To be honest, I had almost the same reaction when I first heard of them.”

Galen opted to start with the Cargo Pants. He stepped back out into the main meeting area, though given that they were the same colour and rather similar in design to the pants he'd already been wearing, he felt little difference.

“Good, they fit better than I'd thought,” said Vercingetorix.

“I might need a belt with these,” Galen said, tugging at the loose waist. “More importantly, what do they do? What do I have to do to activate them?”

“Ah, these pants are somewhat unique among Religalia,” Vercingetorix said. “Its effect is passive – there is nothing specific you need to do to activate them. However, they still only respond to those with the proper conviction.”

Vercingetorix picked the signed copy of Card Tricks Illustrated off the shelf and passed it to Galen.

“Put this in your pocket,” He said.

Galen's glance moved between the book and his pocket. If he had to guess, he'd say the book in his hands was about seven inches wide, and a few taller than that. His pocket was fairly deep, but its mouth was only a little wider than his hand. What Vercingetorix had asked him to do was impossible. Absolutely, mathematically impossible.

Galen understood perfectly – that was the point.

“Sure thing,” said Galen.

He turned the book so that its corner could enter his pocket. He watched carefully, slowly moving the book further.

The fabric caught the sides of the book. It stopped just as an ordinary book would have in an ordinary pants pocket.

No, Galen thought. I'm not going to watch Tsukiko dive into this fantasy world from the sidelines. I'm going to be right there with her. So work with me, Religalia. Let's do this.

He paused, forcing himself to believe his own thoughts.

Suddenly, the book seemed to fit. The book's edges compressed; no longer was it a rectangle he was putting in his pocket, but more of a pyramid or a cone. With a newfound sense of victory, Galen kept moving his hand. The book disappeared completely within the pocket it should never have been able to fit in.

What was more – Galen didn't feel the weight of the book in his pocket at all. It was simply gone, vanished more thoroughly than anything either he or Tsukiko had ever vanished in their magic shows.

He looked up; Vercingetorix was nodding with a faint smile on his face.

“Good job, Galen,” He said.

Galen accepted the praise, brimming with pride.

“Now take the book back out,” said Vercingetorix.

Galen made some 'er' and 'uh' noises in confusion. He patted everything on the Cargo Pants that resembled a pocket, finding no sign of the book anywhere in his pants' fabric.

Vercingetorix sighed. “Just put your hand in your pocket.”

“Is that safe?”

“Yes, of course. It's a pocket. It doesn't bite.”

Galen shrugged and did as Vercingetorix asked. It felt like his hand dodged whatever mystical wormhole had swallowed up the book. His hand merely felt the inside of his pants pocket.

“It's still not here...”

“Your conviction is failing you,” said Vercingetorix. “You started to believe that you couldn't get the book back, didn't you?”

“No way! Of course I can get it back!” Galen said, but he could hear his own voice wavering.

It had been so easy for Tsukiko, hadn't it? As far as Galen knew, Tsukiko hadn't struggled. She could wear a Religalia and have it immediately work for her.

Of course – the first thing Tsukiko did with the Jumper was jump off a super tall building, Galen realized. She trusted that sweater completely. I should have done the same with these pants.

His fingertips touched something – the hard point of the book's cover. He grabbed the book by the corner and pulled. It was just as curious to watch as it had been when he placed it in his pocket to begin with; he was pulling something that he knew was larger than the pocket it was in. And yet, the book only returned to its original size bit by bit as it emerged from the Cargo Pants' pocket.

In an instant, the book was back in his hand.

“Very good,” said Vercingetorix. “But do not let your conviction wander, even for a moment. You may end up losing what you put into the Cargo Pants forever.”

“Got it,” said Galen.

“Now – will you try the Boxer Shorts?”

“Hell yeah.”

A few minutes later, Vercingetorix and Galen stepped out of the trailer. Galen felt a swelling of pride at his accomplishment of mastering two Religalia. Vercingetorix did not seem to feel the same; he looked distracted, his eyes up to the sky.

“Something wrong?” Galen asked.

“It suddenly got warmer out here,” Vercingetorix said, in an oddly tense tone of voice.

“Yeah, it did,” Galen said, nodding. “We should get some good business today, right?”

“Perhaps,” Vercingetorix said idly. He put a hand on his chest; Galen wasn't sure what this gesture meant.

Then, Vercingetorix unclipped his walkie-talkie.

“All zones, status report,” He said into it.

“Zone 1, all clear,” said a voice Galen recognized as Jeffery.

“Zone 2, all clear,” added a voice that Galen thought may have been Stiletto.

“Zone 3, all clear,” said Pierre the lion tamer.

Vercingetorix paused.

“Zone 4, come in,” He said. “Zone 4, what's your status?”

“A snapdragon just got through!” A frantic voice cried. “We're shooing audience members into Zone 3! We need backup!”

Why didn't they call for backup earlier? Galen wondered, eyes wide.

“Stiletto, get to Zone 4!” Vercingetorix ordered. “Get Ravindra and Henry there too, if you can find them.”

“Where is Zone 4?” Galen asked. “I'll go.”

Vercingetorix stared at him in silence for a moment.

He shook his head.

“You need to practice with the Boxer Shorts first. I can't send you in now.”

“Practice? All I need to do is punch! You didn't even tell Tsukiko how to fire her tank.”

“That was different,” Vercingetorix said. “Though actually, the Tank Top would be useful against a snapdragon.” He directed his attention to the walkie-talkie. “Has anyone seen Tsukiko?”

Galen had heard enough. He hopped off the stairs, picked a direction, and ran in it. Vercingetorix yelled something after him, but he paid it no attention. Instead, he tried to remember the map of the normal circus arrangement that had been buried in his novel of paperwork – specifically, where Zone 4 was compared to the performers' trailers.

I think it's close, Galen thought. He did his best to ignore the nagging question in his mind: why was he running towards the snapdragon?

Whatever his reasoning for running, and whatever his reason for picking his direction, he found Zone 4 in minutes. He pushed through a crowd of stagehands, all of them busy gathering equipment and talking in their walkie-talkies. Past the crowd, he saw the creature.

It was shaped like a lizard, and covered in bright red flowers. The dryad was longer from snout to tail than Galen was tall, with the tail itself adding another few feet of petals. It stood a few feet off the ground, with legs made of sturdy roots, not unlike the pumpkins.

In another context, the creature would have actually looked quite lovely, but in this one, it was clearly out for blood. It swung its tail and smacked a crewman into the air. Its mouth opened slightly and it released a vicious hissing noise.

Galen tapped the pinky sides of his fists together, then took as good of a boxing stance as a man who had never boxed could be expected to know. Silvery wires unraveled from the 'B' on the Boxer Shorts' waistband. They snapped through the air to his wrists and spun to cover his hands. In an instant, metal encased his fists.

The snapdragon turned to face him, having taken notice of the Religalia. It turned its head to the side in some manner of thought.

Its mouth opened wide. For an instant, Galen expected a blast of fire. Instead, there was a sound like a balloon bursting, and something tiny flew from the dryad's mouth. Galen raised his hands over his face instinctively; the spat projectile glanced off the back of his hand. In the instant it spun through the air, Galen recognized it as a seed.

Galen stepped forward. The snapdragon fired another bullet-like seed. Before Galen could even register where it was going, his hand moved to block it, punching it out of the air. The dryad's eyes, two yellow flowers among the sea of red, narrowed in anger. Its mouth opened even wider. A barrage of seeds flew out, one after another like a machine gun.

Don't fail me now, Boxer Shorts.

The Religalia did not fail him. His hands took on minds of their own, swinging faster than Galen could see, let alone intentionally direct. With each movement, he heard the satisfying ricochet of a seed bullet.

The snapdragon hissed again as Galen approached. Galen tried to guess how close he needed to be to land a solid punch on the creature. The snapdragon opened its mouth. Galen expected seeds, but something larger flicked forward. A long green vine sprung out, lashing like a chameleon's tongue.

Galen put up his guard, trusting once more in the Boxer Shorts. The tongue slapped the back of his fist; as Galen expected, he felt virtually no impact. For a moment, he smiled.

Then, the tongue wrapped around his wrist. It folded over a second time; Galen's attempts to pull his arm free were futile.

Galen muttered a few choice four-letter words as the tongue pulled back. It dragged him off the ground and into the air by his trapped wrist. The sheer speed of his flight rattled Galen's senses. He struggled not only to break free, but to determine how high he was and where.

For a moment, he and the tongue paused. He finally found his position; about ten feet above the creature. Its mouth was pointing up, with the jaws open wide.

Is it trying to eat me? Galen wondered. It doesn't have –

Before he could finish his thought, what looked like daggers extended from the mass of flowers making up the lizard's jaw. Another pair flipped forward, and another, until a full mouth of sharp, serrated teeth lined the mouth.

The tongue retracted. Just as fast as it had shot out, it pulled Galen closer to the mouth and its countless fangs.

Galen had only one weapon in his arsenal at the moment, so that was what he used. He punched the tongue below where it gripped his arm. The stem-like appendage was sturdier than he expected. It did not snap from the force of his blow, but it did bend. He felt himself lurch forward – his new trajectory pointed him directly at the snapdragon's forehead.

He wound back another punch. In less than a second, he was within range. He smashed his armoured fist into the snapdragon's head as hard as he could possibly manage. Galen felt the impact ripple up his arm and shake his entire body. The snapdragon's legs buckled and its stomach hit the ground hard. Dust flew from the impact, as if tracing a shockwave where the creature had fallen.

Galen hit the ground hard himself. He rolled only half-intentionally; the snapdragon's tongue released his wrist. He ended up on his back, a few feet away from the fallen dryad. He lay still for a moment, replaying everything that had happened in his mind.

Well, thought Galen, watching loose petals float through the air above him. That was an interesting twenty seconds.

Galen swung his arms into the air and clanked the pinky sides of his metal-covered hands together. The wires unraveled and leapt back to his waistband, twisting to reform the 'B' insignia. Only then did he push himself to his feet. This was easier to do than he'd expected, all things considered. His back was sore, and he felt some kind of scrape on the back of his neck, but his hands and arms felt perfectly fine.

So this is what a Religalia really feels like, Galen thought, clenching and unclenching his now non-metallic hands. I like it.

He heard pounding footsteps approach him. They did not belong to the stagehands; most had fled as soon as the snapdragon had grabbed Galen, and those that remained had stayed in stunned silence during the battle.

The footsteps belonged to Vercingetorix. Rushing in the same direction, but further back, Galen saw a mobile fortress of green and gold. Tsukiko followed Vercingetorix in her tank, oddly silently for such a massive machine. Vercingetorix and Tsukiko stopped as they saw that Galen was moving and the snapdragon was not.

“Galen...” Vercingetorix awed. “Good job.”

Galen looked back at the fallen dragon. He couldn't think of anything meaningful to say.

“Thanks.” was what he decided upon.

“Well,” said Tsukiko. “I guess I don't need this.”

Tsukiko's tank unraveled itself and retracted into her shirt – the familiar green and brown pattern of the Tank Top.

“You can change back on your own?” Galen asked. “I thought you needed someone else to take off the hat.”

Tsukiko held up her left glove in her right hand; her left was bare.

“Vercy told me the trick. The transformation ends even if you just take off a glove.”

“Which, combined with all of this...” Vercingetorix began, gesturing towards the fallen snapdragon and the hordes of petals scattered around. “I'd say confirms that the two of you have both mastered the Religalia.”

“Do you think so?” Galen asked. “I feel like I got lucky.”

“No offence to Galen on this one, but I kind of agree,” Tsukiko added. “A few times, I've done a card trick right in the mirror by a fluke, but I still wouldn't bring them on stage without a few hundred repetitions first.”

Vercingetorix nodded understandingly. “Yes, of course. You're right. I spoke too soon.”

“More importantly, are you all right?” Tsukiko asked Galen. She pointed to her feet, which still wore the High Heals. “Need any healing?”

Galen rotated his shoulders and tested his joints.

“Nope. I'm fine.”

“In that case, what say we go plan some tricks?” Tsukiko asked eagerly.

Galen was about to agree, but then he remembered how the day started. It had not been much time since Galen had been looking over the animals of Pierre's Bestiary. He wondered if Jeffery and Pierre were still waiting for him to get back.

Vercingetorix caught his eyes; the manager shrugged.

“I think the other stagehands can manage the animals,” Vercingetorix said. “Besides, you can now plan tricks that involve four new Religalia. I think that takes priority.”

“Four?” Tsukiko asked. She looked at Galen's shorts. “I see one, and then the High Heals and Jumper...”

“The Cargo Pants,” Galen said. “I think you'll like them.”

Tsukiko and Galen walked off together, away from the fallen snapdragon. For a moment, Galen had truly felt like Tsukiko was getting farther away from him. Now, as he explained how the Cargo Pants worked and the two of them discussed how it could be worked into a magic show, those doubts were gone from his mind.

Now, without a doubt, they walked as equals.

#dressed to kill #tsukiko #original fiction

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cacophonouscatharsis · 6 years

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DM’s Log #10: The Prophecy

Another week, another session. This time though we finally got to the part I’d been waiting for for so long. Just a note, once again our player for Ib wasn’t able to make it. So she doesn’t do a whole lot in this session.

We start where we left off last time, with the party having just struck a deal with a mutineer to kill her former boss and take his merchant ship for their own, and shortly after solving a riddle with the ancient underground structure. The wall it was inscribed on slowly lifts, the low grinding sound of heavy stone echoing through the halls. On the other side was a darkened stairwell, which the group entered. It spiraled downwards for several minutes until they finally reached a large open room. Yorgrax was the first to enter, his scaled foot causing the floor of the room beneath it to erupt in blue fire. Magical energy disperses from the floor and onto the walls, illuminating the room much like the previous halls of the age old complex. Four pillars are set up in the corners of the recatangular room, with a single hexagonal pillar about waist high in the very middle. Atop it an obsidian tablet.

Yorgrax, unharmed by the light show he caused, steps towards the center pillar, and as he does a part of the wall oppisate to him opens, releasing a Helmed Horror. Very similar to the Animated Armors the party fought before, only with actual intelligence beyond its base instincts to serve its creator. It’s armor is black and gold, with a red energy filling into empty insides. Said armor, plus it’s shield and spiked sword, are all reinforced with adamantine. It charges the dragonkin, and it’s time to roll initiative. The party manages to defeat it, however many spells and abilities were used, and Yorgrax took a few hits. The red energy from within the helmed horror is dispersed and transferred over to the walls and pillars around the room. Vercingetorix attempts to transcribe the writing, but it appears to be in a different form of the language, and so the book offers minimal assistance.

The pillars each describe a different being. One is a warlord that will lead an army of savages and wage a bloody war across the world. One is a strong ruler who will see the nations of world bow down to them and their people. Another lurks deep underground, in an ancient and labyrinthian palace of opulence. The last is one who controls a hoard of undead and other subjugated creatures, intent on ruling everything both living and dead. The walls of the room itself tell that if these four beings are allowed to coexist within the world of Lhavosh, then great chaos will erupt, and in that chaos a terrible beast will awaken from at age long slumber and destroy everything. There are of course more details but because of the older dialect it’s impossible to glean anymore from it. The obsidian tablet atop the middle pedestal displays a map. Of some massive continent that looks familiar but isn’t recognized at first. I gave the party the map which I drew, and then after a bit I also gestured to the maps I had already given them. They sifted trough until they realized the map on the tablet must have been a previous iteration of the world itself. Like a Pangea sort of thing. On this map were four small green beacons, and a red energy gathering at the top where the map cuts off. The party surmises that the beacons must symbolize the four beings written about on the pillars. Unfortunately they can’t narrow down specifically where these four are in the world, but it seems as though two of them are located in the same continent the party is in, Vuusrin.

With the ancient complex seemingly ending at the prophecy room, most of the party elects to rest within the structure. Vercingetorix however wants to deal with Dablo now and he ventures out of the temple and cave on his own. Waiting for him outside, while the forest still burns, are two strangers. One it clad in a white robe with a hood that conceals most of his face. His skin is pale and some black hair can be seen reaching halfway down his face. The other is a tiefling with blue skin and even bluer hair. He has a perfect circle carved in his abdomen that goes straight through him. The trunks of burning trees visible if one were to look into the hole. He has a sword sheathed at his hip. The hooded figure demands to see the map the party had just acquired, however Vercingetorix had not brought it with him. The necromancer asks if he can go get it and the stranger allows him to do so. The Elf returns to he rest of the party, asking for them to come with. With that the entire party, plus Henrietta and Grace, go outside of the cave, the two not having moved from their positions.

The pale one pulls of his hood, revealing his deep green eyes with similarly hues trails going down his face like tears. He looks at group and can see that they aren’t at their best. Yorgrax has taken several hits and most of their abilities are spent. He undoes his robe, wearing more form fitting garb underneath that matches the white with black highlights of the second stranger beside him. A hole identical to the one in the others abdomen is also visible, although this one is located at his sternum. He pulls four vials of a mysterious red substance out of his pocket and tosses them on the ground at the parties feet, saying they’ll heal their wounds and refresh their abilities. He needs them at full strength. Vercingetorix makes a check, obviously suspicious of the vials, but it seems the man is telling the truth. Yorgrax, Torix, Vercingetorix, and Henrietta all drink from the small vials, and indeed they are almost instantly rejuvenated. The tiefling steps forward, pulling out his sword and asking the other, who he refers to as Schifar, if it’s finally time to fight. Schifar tells him yes, and it’s time to roll initiative.

Schifar stands back and lets his comrade do all the work. The tiefling rolls low and attacks last, however he welcomes all incoming attacks with a grin on his face. The party complies and does significant damage to him, but is unable to shake his excited bloodthirsty demeanor. Luckily when it’s his turn to attack Yorgrax manages to dodge both swings of is sword. Once the second turn rolls around through Yorgrax rolls a 1. This powerful opponent has an ability that I homebrewed, though it could be on another monster I don’t know about, where if someone rolls a 1 on an attack or damage roll against him, it opens up an attack on opportunity. The warrior catches the Dragonkins claymore out of the air, holding it in place while he swipes down Yorgrax’s midsection. Luckily his feats allow him to not sustain too much damage from the attack, and he ends up taking 11 points of damage. Once it’s the tieflings turn again however, it’s clear that things aren’t going as well as they could have. After all it’s 6 against one, and his body is pretty much covered in his own blood at this point, not that he minds it much. He laughs, commenting on how he now knows he doesn’t need to hold back. He grips his sword, bringing it close to him and positions his free hand on beginning of the blade, on his flat side. He utters the word “Grind” and then drags his clenched fingers up the length of the steel. Suddenly his body is caught in a torrent of blue energy that temporarily conceals his body.

When the smoke clears his sword is gone, and his body is now covered in a thin layer of armor that resembles bones. His fingers are edged with razor sharp claws and all previous wounds he sustained are now healed. This transformation was just a bonus action however, and now he makes his attack, deciding to go for Vercingetorix. He rolls high and is able to hit him three times. He lunges at the necromancer, his clawed hand outstretched. Just before he’s about to strike however, Schifar teleports to his side, grabbing his wrist and stopping him in his tracks. He tells the tiefling, who he names Jeager, that their intention was not to kill the party, but to just measure their strength. Jeager is clearly angered by this, and pulls his hand away, which was mere centimeters from the center of the elf’s chest. I rolled the damage before I had him attack just to see, and yeah he would’ve killed Vercingetorix in one hit.

Schifar says that they’re leaving, and asks for the map once more, adding that he will give it back once he’s looked at it. Yorgrax complies, handing him the tablet. They ask the mysterious person a few questions while he gazes at the obsidian map. They ask he is one of the beings referenced within the temple, he doesn’t give them a straight answer. After giving Yorgrax back the map he seems to open up a black portal in reality with a simple flick of his hand. Before Jeager enters he tells the party that he hopes to fight them again, and that next time they better be a lot stronger. His form vanishes within the portal. Vercingetorix makes a perception check on the tear itself, and discovers it leads to another plane of existence, but to which one specifically is a mystery. The party quickly debates on whether they themselves should step through the portal before it closes. Before they come to a conclusion they actually ask Schifar if he wants them to follow him. He tells them that’s not their intention, but if they’d rather die now rather than later then they’re welcome to join him. This seems to change the parties mind and they decide to stay where they are. Schifar steps through the portal, and it closes behind him, the force emitted from this year in reality causes the fires of the forest to be put out.

And with that the party seemingly have no other option but to return to Central Port and deal with the more pressing matter of Dablo Frinds. Grace and Ib go back to the room they ordered at the Resplendent Melody. Torix, Vercingetorix, Yorgrax, and Henrietta all returned to the merchant ship of the Casanova, owned by Dablo. The party had Henrietta tied up to make it look like they had captured her and were returning her. When they entered the captains quarters, Dablo was accompanied by two armed crewmen. Vercingetorix gave the slimy merchant Henrietta’s ornate sword, which she said was actually not going to be sold by him, but rather that the sword was a key to some ancient place filled with far more valuable treasure, and that he was going to find it for himself. Dablo gave the elf a hefty sum of cash, and the two shook hands.

The Necromancer cast a spell, beginning to rot Dablos hand away. However he rolls so high on damage that the dude literally mummifies before him, barely having time to scream in shock and agony before his body crumbles beneath its own weight. The two guards attack, and in the commotion Henrietta is freed. She grabs her sword and rushes out of the captains quarters, leaving the fight to the party. The henchmen are dealt with rather easily, and the party levels up to level four! Once they get outside the quarters, they find that Henrietta had managed to turn over most of the crew to her side, considering most of them liked her more spunky adventurous attitude anyway. They have the few who didn’t side with her at knifepoint, tied up together in pairs. She explains that she’s not sure what to do with them, but they’ll probably just leave them tied below deck and drop them off in some other continent, rather than kill them. Vercingetorix wants to sell them as slaves, however Immulricks isn’t a slave country. The nation directly to the south, Macron, is though.

Yorgrax decides to take two of them, deciding that if he is to prove to the senior officer of the port town that he did indeed clear out the camp of bandits like he was told to do, then he should bring potential prisoners. On the way though Vercingetorix comments how he still intends to sell them, which Yorgrax clearly doesn’t agree with because he finds the nearest city guards and rats him out, mentioning that he is now in possession of a forged citizenship badge, which Dablo has given to him prior to his timely death. The elf manages to flee before the guards can get a good look at him however, leaving the crewmen he had brought with him to be captured. The session ended with Yorgrax entering the office of Senior officer Logarius.

So yeah that was it! It was actually a lot longer and more eventful than the other sessions thus far, which was awesome! I’m really excited for the one happening tonight cause there’s this NPC I’ve been dying to introduce. Also in regards to the two strangers, yeahif you’ve watched/read Bleach you might notice an uncanny similarity to the characters of Ulquiorra and Grimmjow from that anime/manga, and that’s because I took heavy inspiration from it. The characters aren’t the exact same. Their origins, and some powers/characteristics are different, but yeah I really like the idea of the Espada from that show, and the special honor guard for the big bad type of character. But yeah, I’ll post another DM’s Log about tonight’s session when I can! See you then!

#dm’s log #DMs Log #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #D&D #DnD

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