#queen zelkova

[minyboy]

Time to go the final fast in this last collage of Sonic the Hedgehog. Now that does not mean I'm done making new illustrations like this, it's just that the collage has gotten far too big. I have 198 faces here, I think it's complete. So thank you all very much for the support and suggestions, it has helped out greatly. See you all around.

list of all the characters, starting from the top left corner, going left to right Row 1: Rosy the Rascal, Iron Queen, Longclaw, Earthia, Rosie the Woodchuck, Santa Claus, Sonia Acorn, Ari the Ram, Chocola, Fockewulf the Wolf, Black Narcissus, Mina Mongoose, The Enchantress, Bernadette the Hedgehog, Iblis, Remington, Sara Row 2: Jason, Pale Bayleaf, Coral the Betta, Ifrit, Master Zik, Tumble, Tiara Boobowski, Zazz, Whisper the Wolf, Eggrobo, Lupe the Wolf, Bean the Dynamite, Agent Stone, Tails Doll, Commander, Black Death, Dark Enerjak Row 3: Mecha Sonic, Galaxina, Tom Wachowski, Mammoth Mogul, Breezie the Hedgehog, Old Owl Man, Professor Gerald Robotnik, Void, Julie-Su, D-Fektx, Dr. Eggman Nega, Nicole the Holo-Lynx, Uncle Chuck, Merlina the Wizard, Mimic, Yellow Zelkova, Princess Undina Row 4: Sealia the Seal, Omochao, Nigel Acorn, Lyric, Shade the Echidna, Cream the Rabbit, Vector the Crocodile, Emerl, Coconuts, Chip, King Arthur, chaos, E-123 Omega, Shard the Metal Sonic, Froggy, Kragok, Nicolette the Weasel Row 5: Tommy Turtle, Manik Acorn, Ixis Naugus, Lumina Flowlight, Captain Whisker, Espio the Chameleon, Mighty the Armadillo, Sonic The Hedgehog, Tails, Dr. Eggman, Silver The Hedgehog, Big the Cat, Imperator Ix, Marine the Raccoon, Helen, Dremagen, Pearly the Manta Ray Row 6: Saffron Bee, Carrotia the Rabbit, Decoe, Storm the Albatross, Tikal, Black Doom, Sally Acorn, Metal Sonic, Manic the Hedgehog, Orbot, Zooey, Captain Metal, G-merl, Monica Row 7: Razor the Shark, Blackbot the Pirate, Charlie, Professor Pickle, Bunnie Rabbot, Yacker, Blaze the Cat, Rouge the Bat, Snively, Eclipse the Darkling, Dingo, Mark the Tapir, Bearenger the Bear, Lindsey Row 8: Birdie, Red Pine, SCR-HD, Cosmo, Sticks the Badger, Cheese the Chao, Charmy Bee, Knuckles the Echidna, Shadow the Hedgehog, Amy Rose, Jet The hawk, Infinite, Zavok, Fleetway (Iblis), Bocoe, Jewel the Beetle, Aquarius Row 9: Topaz, Iron King, Robotnik Jr., Maria Robotnik, Cubot, Antoine D'Coolette, Scourge the Hedgehog, Ray the Flying Squirrel, Rotor the Walrus, Scratch, Sonia the Hedgehog, Grounder, Fang the Sniper, Honey The Cat, Bokkun, Grand Chief Whip, Davy Sprocket Row 10: Crusher the Chao, Kingape, Dodon Pa, Dr. Starline, Mephiles the Dark, Queen Aleena, Heavy the Robot, Lien-Da, Wave the Swallow, Dark Gaia, Fiona the Fox, Sleet, Bomb, Vanilla Rabbit, Shahra, Nominatus, Melody Prower Row 11: Perci the Bandicoot, Chuck Thorndyke, Professor Von Schlemmer, Zomom, Erazor Djinn, Metal Knuckles, Chris, Belle the Tinkerer, Bark the Polar Bear, Zor, Rough, Tangle the Lemur, Zeena, Wendy Witchcart, Great Battle Kukku, Heavy King, Doctor Quack Row 12: Sage, Surge the Tenrec, The President, Lara-Su, Jules Hedgehog, Dulcy the Dragon, Momma Robotnik, Grimer Wormtongue, Dark OaK, Dave the Intern, Time Eater, Ben Muttski, Sir Connery, Pachacamac, Feist, Lord Hood, Frances

[ofdragonsdeep]

14: Commend

An acquaintance sits in a dismal gaol, and Ar'telan makes a courtesy call.

(Spoilers for SB, ShB sort of)

The sharp tang in the air of the Lochs accompanied Ar’telan on his walk across the great stone bridge to the capital. Beneath him, the vast expanse of the salt lakes stretched, now narrated by the hum and clang of machinery and hammers in the saltery at its edge. The rest of the land, though, still seemed like a skeleton resting where the beast had died, signal fires flickering to mark where it had fallen. The sparse forests of zelkova trees, stalked by manticores and ghosts, the bone-white fish which stalked the lakes, the uneasy fog that settled over the place, all of it added to the sense of decay.

The druvas had been cleared from the bridge in recent days, and so his only meeting was with the guards on the gate. In the many moons since Ala Mhigo’s liberation, the guard had been taught fast vigilance, both against the threat of primals and of Garlean incursion. He was so well-recognised that he was barely bothered on his way through, only a cursory check to ensure he was not an enemy of the state walking in under wicked glamour.

There were any number of attractions within the walls of the capital to captivate a traveler’s attention. A small Ironworks outpost still worked on the question of the Weapons the Garleans had made to throw against both their traitor and their unruly territories, ready to ferry a would-be warrior to the main camp. Citizens played Triple Triad by the aetheryte, eyeing him as he passed to see if he would be amenable to a challenge. The palace, now the seat of a more democratic form of government, offered the chance to reconnect with old friends. And the Royal Menagerie, with its fields of beautiful flowers, suggested a chance for reflection on things long gone and events to come.

Ar’telan ignored all of them, instead walking down the terracotta streets until he was within the mountains the city backed, the guards on the door offering an uneasy nod of acknowledgement as he passed them. Under the rock, the uncomfortable pulse of the sky was easier to ignore, and the thoughts he carried with him were easier to find.

The royal gaol, repurposed into a place to hold the many prisoners of war that had not been killed in the war for liberation. Some of them resented their captivity, some of them would have betrayed their birthplace to the Empire without a second thought. Some of them longed for redemption, cells lying empty as they laboured in civil service under strict watch. And some…

He was not the man he had been when he had first been down here. He took a moment, centred his aether. For all the hell that Hades had wrung from him, he had learned a little, though he was not sure if it would be enough. For all they called the Resonance an artificial Echo, it was a strange beast only alike in the broadest strokes. But perhaps it would do the job.

The cell was still sparse, despite the time that had passed between Fordola’s initial confinement and now. Her clothes were nicer, less rough hemp, but the collar around her neck - dormant without a mage to activate it, but still abhorrent in its purpose - served as an unkind reminder of her station.

“You,” she said, her voice level. He nodded to her, and there was a moment of absolute silence. Her thoughts were a concealed mystery, but her feelings felt loud behind her wall, amplified by two Echo-likes in proximity. She did not flinch.

“I had hoped they would be treating you better, by now,” Ar’telan remarked, and Fordola scoffed, though it was clear she was still confused by the situation that had found her opposite the man who had put her here to begin with.

“Kill a few primals, slay a few beastmen. It doesn’t matter to them,” she said, venom in her voice, but it was tired poison now. “Why are you here?” It was a question, not one he could come up with an answer for, not an easy one. Now that the danger had passed in the First, he did not think it would be long until something surfaced to demand their attention, but for the moment they stood in the lull.

“I wanted to be sure you were ok,” he said, offering a tiny smile. “It’s my fault you’re in here, after all.” Fordola scoffed.

“I put myself in here,” she disagreed. “You and I both know that. Maybe it would have been easier if I hadn’t taken their devil’s bargain, but under it all I’m still the Empire’s Butcher.” Ar’telan sighed, sitting down against the wall opposite her cell door. They had been here before, more than once, and she never warmed to him - not that he expected her to, nor would ever want her to, unless she wished it - but every time things changed.

“Has it eased?” he asked her, and she winced at the question.

“What does it matter to you?” she demanded, even though both of them knew that he had taken every effort to shield his soul from her resonant eyes, to stop her from reliving the horrors in his past just this once.

“They don’t care to ask about it, do they?” he surmised, and she made an irritable noise. “I have-”

“I don’t need your help,” she spat. “And I don’t want it. You think they don’t relish in me seeing the hurt I’ve caused them?” Ar’telan held out a hand, a tiny spark of aether gathering in it. The Light suffused it, shimmering in the darkness of the prison complex, still there despite his victory over it. As she moved forwards, he snuffed it out.

“Perhaps I do not want your sympathy either,” he said, and she recoiled, surprise in the coil of her limbs and a scowl on her face. “It does not have to be a competition, or an exchange of pity. It does need to gain either of us anything, for good or for ill. It has been many moons since the war ended, after all.” Fordola made an irritated noise.

“Then I will consider it,” she said, a compromise he had not expected to achieve with her. “Bah, you’re both as bad as each other. At least it’s easier to tune you out than the boy.” Ar’telan stifled a laugh at that. He knew a little of Fordola’s work with Arenvald and the summoners working with the Flames, dealing with summonings out in Thanalan. Echo was Echo, even by a different name.

I wonder what Hades would think to that?

“I will give you time to think on it,” he said, pushing himself to his feet as she retreated back to her pallet. “Duty calls me back here more often than most would like, I think, so I shall call in when I can.”

“Don’t rush on my account,” she muttered, bitterness still in her voice.

---

It had been Arenvald that told him the story.

The young Scion was ever excitable, and he had been brimming with pride as he had relayed the story of their fight with Ifrit, holding back the Tempered servants who had summoned it, helping to rid the land of the scourge of the summon for just a little longer. It was a different story to the one that Jajasamu had relayed - a bitter man angry with himself for misjudging the convict, and the threat they faced, feeling lesser in his need to stay back from the full brunt of the primal’s fury. Ar’telan wondered if it would have helped them to know of his first fight with a primal, in the same summoning circle at Zanr’ak, blood drawn from the stone of desperation.

He had asked how Ar’telan felt. Ar’telan had offered a reassuring platitude, acceptance of duty and necessity, and he wasn’t sure that he had been believed.

---

The first time he had gone to see her had been after the war was over. When the Qalyana summoned their goddess into a council hall and he had held the line with Arenvald and Fordola, and she had thrown her blade to the floor and walked away. Rejected the idea of death, and shunned the idea of redemption.

The guards had tried to dissuade him as he walked past them into the gaol. He had stood in front of her and neither had spoken a word, her mind overwhelmed with every bitter memory in his mind, every wound the fight had inflicted, everything he mourned. She had looked up at him, hand over her resonant eye as if it would stop the flood, and asked him how he coped.

“I don’t.”

---

The second time he had been met with less protest, at least from the guard. Again he had sat himself outside her cell, her mouth shut in stubborn silence, his hands in his lap lest she think he want to dominate the conversation. The Echo had shown him, when they had been enemies yet, what had happened to her father for the crime of making do in an impossible situation. She waited for him to use it against her, but he did not. In truth, he already had - keeping the secrets close to his heart as he told Lyse that he did not want her to be executed, to the idealistic woman’s surprise. When had it ever been black and white, under the boot of the Empire? He had seen what happened to the people who resisted. Visited the graves of the soldiers, heard the stories of the collateral damage weeping in a half-empty village.

Maybe it was selfish. In the days since, when he had pleaded for mercy for those driven to awful, cruel things, when he saw them crumble in the cell, when the people demanded blood and received it, one way or another, he had thought it might be. The blasted fields of Bozja haunted him still, the memories of a broken Queen and Misija’s choices - one way or another, they were always chosen, even if the perpetrators convinced themselves there was no such choice at all. But still he had begged mercy, that if she had to face the headsman’s axe then it would be after fair judgement. He had stood and watched people break upon the battlefield, and known, innately, that there was no judgement that could be fair.

“You got nothing better to do, warrior of light?” Fordola had spat eventually. “I don’t need the theatre of your head to make my day worse. Got plenty of that already.” Ar’telan had shrugged.

“I thought you might like the company,” he replied, and she scoffed at him. Was the wound too fresh, he had wondered? Of when they had faced off on the field of battle, her resonance overwhelmed by Urianger’s siphon, her choices rendered meaningless in the dust?

“You know how many I’ve killed. Surely there’s better company to keep than me.”

“You know how many I have killed, too.”

She was quiet then, for a long moment, before shaking her head.

“Thought it didn’t count, for you. Killing the Empire. They’re the enemy, aren’t they?”

“As we were yours. The choice is the same. That I am on the side of the victor doesn’t make mine right, and yours wrong.”

“Was that why he wanted to fight you, then? Zenos, I mean.”

The question had caught him off-guard, but eventually he had managed to offer a shrug.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I presented an opportunity to him - a potential for challenge. If I could reach him and face him, then he would need to work to overcome the obstacle. It made him try - think, persevere, strive. It made him feel. I understand it in theory.” Fordola had sighed, shaking her head slightly, though not in disagreement.

“It’s all mad. All of it mad,” she had decided, and Ar’telan had not been able to disagree.

---

The fog had lifted when Ar’telan walked out into the streets of Ala Mhigo, the sun twinkling with the last few moments of the light before it set. It wasn’t perfect - what ever was? - but it was something, and he would let that be enough. If one day she would be able to accept what had happened to give her the gift, if she would go from stony to acerbic, if she would leave the cell and be allowed her freedom, then his plea to Lyse all those moons ago would have meant something.

He did not carry Arenvald’s hope, that she would heal, forgive herself, move on. He had been in the chamber where Krile had been held, where they had stamped the gift into the giftless through brute force. He had felt the aether, the dozens of souls whose lives blazed in her Resonant light. She would never forgive herself for making that choice, and to ask it of her was too much. All you could do was see the death that lined your path forward, and make do.

She would not think it the same, he thought. That the people he had killed - conscripts and volunteers and natives, all equal at the end of the day, on the other side of the Warrior of Light - were the same as the ones that she had damned when she had accepted the experiment. They did not see the world the same way at all, not any more. She was bitter and hard like stone, retreating inward at the cruelty. His mask was passive, the smiles genuine, the burden accepted if only to make sure that no-one else ever had to walk the path that he had. But she yet had room to heal. There was space for her and the souls that walked with her, for better or worse, guided by the hand of the Resistance until they trusted her to guide herself.

And when the day came, Ar’telan would welcome her with a smile.

[quagmireisadora]

A/N: part 2 of  Patron of the (Lonely)

this is for @lokiat221b. I love my JongKey with time games. The fic was originally 4 parts set in different times. The first was modern au and this is Silla so... More to come!

------

희망이 있는 곳엔 반드시 시련이 있네

The man had stayed by his side for many moons, an unerring protector against all threats. His fingers were quick to nock arrows, his aim was sure to meet its target.

When Lord Kibum was given the boon of a guard to accompany him on the journey west, he did not know what to expect. Or, in truth, he had some expectation: a broad man with a broad face, large arms and legs like trees. He had thought the queen would send her emissary forth to the silk route with much pomp and preparation. Yet, he had departed before the first rays of morning found their tracks on the hoof-beaten paths of Wiryeseong.

“Jonghyun,” he turned now to his companion: a short, quiet, mysterious young hwarang who moved like a bat in darkness. “Come, have a drink. Share a tale or two with me.” Lord Kibum patted the blanket next to him.

Together, they had traveled by horse, by carriage, by ship, and now by foot, to arrive in this desert. The mornings scorched their backs and the evenings froze their lips. Their feet were callused, their arms tired, their bodies bruised. The last of the yaks had disappeared some nights before, leaving the men to carry the weight of their belongings on their own shoulders. Food was scarce and shelter forgotten; the comfort of Silla was far behind them. No more would they see wagtails flutter over swaying zelkovas on a spring afternoon, no more would the sun gleam against the palace tiles as it set against the horizon of hills. Now sand crunched between their teeth, grated under their eyelids. Now the only sight of green was in their memories.

The rest of the platoon looked as bedraggled as Kibum felt, and he felt terrible. Yet there was Jonghyun, gait as smooth as it always was and eyes as calm as the Han river on winter mornings. He obeyed the offer and seated himself close to his charge.

“This journey tries you, my lord,” there was no malice in the hwarang’s words. They steamed concern out into the cold air.

“The queen has set us on this… quest,” Kibum replied with some pity for his circumstances. “And if we should lose our lives in pursuit of what the queen wants, then… so it shall be,” he nodded.

“A sentencing,” Jonghyun spoke the words as if questioning his own pronunciation of the words. “And…” his eyebrows knit together with worry. “Does my lord accept this sentence? Does he hold guilt?”

Kibum stared at the man with a rueful smile. He had been raised a lord by the graces of luck. Deemed pure of bloodline, he had been accepted by the academy. He had studied--studied the words of other men, studied paintings from other lands, studied with inks and brushes. He had spent a lifetime hidden between parchment and tablet so that the throne may feel less threatened by his existence. But it had certainly not been enough.

“Go west.” When he had heard the words, he had flinched at them. He remembered a moment of gratefulness swimming in his belly, for the words may easily have been, “Go to the gallows.” He reminisced as he sat close to a fire, fingers spread and fur wrapped securely around his shivering frame.

But he related nothing of it to Jonghyun.

“I have committed many wrongs that could mean punishment for me, and for my sons who would come after me,” Kibum said. “Perhaps… one of those sins is my birth.”

The hwarang showed sympathy, but remained silent. It was uncertain what he perceived of court politics, but his condolences were a welcome smear of warmth in the cold night. Kibum hoped the warmth would remain unchanged for the rest of the expedition, for it is often the road that breeds mistrust and discontent in the hearts of men: with its challenging length and its vengeful terrain. Regardless of his noble nature, and his kind ways, Jonghyun would surely become roughened, much like the sand they traversed. After all, he had been sentenced, too. Someone wanted him away from the barracks in Gyeongju. Someone had wished him out of their way, out of their schemes, and this would soon infect the man with doubt. It would spread through his loyalty, fell his kindness, murder his bravery. Lord Kibum knew this as he knew his own self--knew that he may only afford his companion as long as there is silver still hanging from his belt. When he loses the weight in his pouch, he will truly lose everything.

“Deoryeonim,” Jonghyun called attention to his voice, ringing like bells against the wind. “You are a good man.” Kibum touched his own cheek, wondering if his thoughts had appeared on his face as writing.

To love a man, or to be loved by one: it was common among the hwarangs. Despite living the life of nobility, Kibum had heard the poems. He knew of talk among the public that some of these men had sworn deep affection for one another, an affection that burned so bright it incinerated all custom and tradition. Indeed, Kibum had caught wind of words that serenaded to hands roughed by the hilt of a sword, to eyes that remained vigilant in their sleep, to bodies that toiled for the safety of the throne and its subjects. And despite it being considered unnatural by some, he held no disapproval for such a love. A love held by no bounds, in his eyes, was true love. A love colored crimson and coursing through one's blood with every intake of breath--to Kibum the bearer of such a love was to be envied. And Jonghyun's golden eyes held the promise of that love. His hands offered it freely, like a well offering limitless water.

To love a man, or to be loved by one: it was well-accepted among the hwarangs, but Lord Kibum was not to have the pleasure of accepting such a love. He was expected to take a wife, from a suitable family with means and displaying a modest nature. He was to father children that may someday be little lordlings that would be sent to academy, like their father before them. The stature that came with lordship required that all desires be disposed of, and life be lived by the heels of the queen's favor.

A hwarang may not tempt a lord, and a Kibum may not love a Jonghyun. But in the middle of this desert of silence, of solitude, the love surrounded them where they huddled by a dying fire. And like the glowing orange embers before him, Kibum restrained his voice from leaping between them to caress the other's face with tenderness.

He may never be in Kibum's arms, his lips may never kiss Kibum's name, his chest may never ring with Kibum's heartbeat, but in the light of lingering love, Jonghyun was beautiful.

When the sun rose the next morning, they were met by strangers riding odd creatures of humped backs. The strangers studied them as they offered food and water. Where some of the soldiers accepted wearily, the hwarang was as courteous as he would have been were they still in the queen’s court. He bowed, strolled back to Kibum’s side and shared his portion. “It is not poisoned, my lord,” he assured.

The other considered his empty belly before he refused with a smile. His protector needed it more than he did. “Feast,” he approved.

“They say there is a town some ri away to the west,” Jonghyun munched.

“Do you speak their tongue?” Kibum asked incredulously.

“There are ways for travelers to speak without words, my lord,” Jonghyun laughed. “They simply pointed me to their home, and they did not appear to have been traveling long.”

It was something to ponder on. Did Jonghyun’s ears discern every silent utterance around him? Did he deduce confessions on people’s foreheads before they were expelled by their lips? Did he answer questions in advance of their arrival, fully formed and coherent? As Kibum watched the other chew through bread and meat, humming his appreciation, he wondered if any of his own thoughts had spilled out in the open. He fretted over the idea that perhaps… perhaps Jonghyun had already walked through the gateway of his miserable field of rumination, scowling at the desert inside Kibum like he scowled at the one outside. He shuddered at the notion.

As they approached the town, there was a synchronous thud as every man undid his burdens and ran forward to bathe in the air of the marketplace. Fires burned in homes, children ran in circles, men yelled orders to other men, and women laughed in balconies of brick and stone. Clothes fluttered in the wind, wheels rolled across paving stones, animals complained about the heat, and somewhere--somewhere in the distance was the sound of flowing water.

“Home,” Lord Kibum muttered.

“Could it become a home away from home?” Jonghyun smiled. His shoulders were relaxed, and his hand no longer gripped the hilt of his sword. The shadow of vigilance had cleared from his eyes. They shone like honey in the sunlight. Only now, after all the distances they had crossed, did it seem like they were finally free of their titles. No more were they lord and servant, no longer did one stand beneath another. Only now, after all these moons, did they become equals.

“A worthy consideration,” Kibum smiled in return.

Above the starving peasants and greedy merchants, above the palace that demanded obeisance and the temple that forbade dissidence, above the fiefdoms and injustices and inequalities of blood; above the rivers and valleys and deserts, above all the parched fields of paddy and every sward of wild flowers--there is a hill. At the end of his life, Kibum wished he would meet Jonghyun again on that knoll, untouched by everything around it. Then they would truly be free.

희망이 있는 곳엔 반드시 시련이 있네

[minyboy]

Rolling around at the speed of sound, got places to go, gotta follow my rainbow.

I will be taking a break for now from this, but one day I will do a 6.0. Thank you for all the help.

List of all the characters, starting from the top left corner, going left to right.

Row 1: Iron Queen, Longclaw, Earthia, Rosie the Woodchuck, Santa Claus, Sonia Acorn, Ari the Ram, Chocola, Fockewulf the Wolf, Black Narcissus, Mina Mongoose, The Enchantress, Bernadette the Hedgehog, Iblis, Remington

Row 2: Pale Bayleaf, Coral the Betta, Ifrit, Master Zik, Tumble, Tiara Boobowski, Zazz, Whisper the Wolf, Eggrobo, Lupe the Wolf, Bean the Dynamite, Agent Stone, Tails Doll, Commander, Black Death

Row 3: Galaxina, Tom Wachowski, Mammoth Mogul, Breezie the Hedgehog, Old Owl Man, Professor Gerald Robotnik, Void, Julie-Su, D-Fektx, Dr. Eggman Nega, Nicole the Holo-Lynx, Uncle Chuck, Merlina the Wizard, Mimic, Yellow Zelkova

Row 4: Omochao, Nigel Acorn, Lyric, Shade the Echidna, Cream the Rabbit, Vector the Crocodile, Emerl, Coconuts, Chip, King Arthur, chaos, E-123 Omega, Shard the Metal Sonic, Froggy, Kragok

Row 5: Manik Acorn, Ixis Naugus, Lumina Flowlight, Captain Whisker, Espio the Chameleon, Mighty the Armadillo, Sonic The Hedgehog, Tails, Dr. Eggman, Silver The Hedgehog, Big the Cat, Imperator Ix, Marine the Raccoon, Helen, Dremagen

Row 6: Carrotia the Rabbit, Decoe, Storm the Albatross, Tikal, Black Doom, Sally Acorn, Metal Sonic, Manic the Hedgehog, Orbot, Zooey, Captain Metal, G-merl

Row 7: Blackbot the Pirate, Charlie, Professor Pickle, Bunnie Rabbot, Yacker, Blaze the Cat, Rouge the Bat, Snively, Eclipse the Darkling, Dingo, Mark the Tapir, Bearenger the Bear

Row 8: Red Pine, SCR-HD, Cosmo, Sticks the Badger, Cheese the Chao, Charmy Bee, Knuckles the Echidna, Shadow the Hedgehog, Amy Rose, Jet The hawk, Infinite, Zavok, Fleetway (Iblis), Bocoe, jewel the beetle

Row 9: Iron King, Robotnik Jr., Maria Robotnik, Cubot, Antoine D'Coolette, Scourge the Hedgehog, Ray the Flying Squirrel, Rotor the Walrus, Scratch, Sonia the Hedgehog, Grounder, Fang the Sniper, Honey The Cat, Bokkun, Grand Chief Whip

Row 10: Kingape, Dodon Pa, Dr. Starline, Mephiles the Dark, Queen Aleena, Heavy the Robot, Lien-Da, Wave the Swallow, Dark Gaia, Fiona the Fox, Sleet, Bomb, Vanilla Rabbit, Shahra, Nominatus

Row 11: Chuck Thorndyke, Professor Von Schlemmer, Zomom, Erazor Djinn, Metal Knuckles, Chris, Belle the Tinkerer, Bark the Polar Bear, Zor, Rough, Tangle the Lemur, Zeena, Wendy Witchcart, Great Battle Kukku, Heavy King

Row 12: Surge the Tenrec, The President, Lara-Su, Jules Hedgehog, Dulcy the Dragon, Momma Robotnik, Grimer Wormtongue, Dark OaK, Dave the Intern, Time Eater, Ben Muttski, Sir Connery, Pachacamac, Feist, Lord Hood