SOUND THE ALARM. SPECTER OF TORMENT HAS BEEN ANNOUNCED FOR SPRING 2017! I am so stoked! It's also a bigger expansion than Plague of Shadows and I am exploding with hype as I type this. I also had an emergency announcement regarding it on my Tumblr, as well as a change on the decision on Specter snippets.
To Monkey999Boy: I was hoping you noticed the flowers haha. But don't worry! I understand, haha.
To Saturdaylemon: Or maybe the yacht gods send him over just to tell a bad pun and then pull him back when things are getting dangerous. xD And holy ship, you have a VERY LOVELY PUN THERE I LOVE IT HERE HAVE MY DIGITAL CAKE. "CHIVALRAVE".
The first part of this is a homage to 'Short', a fanfic I adore very much! If you haven't read it, go there, it has a cute plot! Very cute! Like a ChibiSpecter Knight! :3
Chapter length would vary from now on. It was 9000 words at minimum and I thought it would be too tiring for both me and you guys if I wrote half the alphabet with a minimum of 9000 words each. What are your thoughts? RSVP yo.
.
Q is for quick.
"No, Plaguey," Mona asserted, and held up the vial of blue sparkly liquid high up where the little bird alchemist couldn't reach, "we are going to test this potion first before we try it on you."
"But it won't hurt me!" Plague Knight complained. "The magic in that is enough for only one person, hee."
"Tut! Have you forgotten the scientific method?!" She retorted with an intense glare. "You test the hypothesis before going to the conclusion!"
Plague Knight gave up and hung his head. "Okay. You're right. Hehe."
"We can just throw it at some unsuspecting guy, so.. "
And so the two had a quick test and threw the splash potion at Shovel Knight when they saw him.
/*later, emergency Order of No Quarter meeting*/
The Order sat quietly in the dinner table, for once without any degree of violence. There were no sharp sardonic quips. There were no curses and insults uttered. There were no authoritative and stern calls for order from Polar Knight. Just uncomfortable and uncharacteristic silence. Maybe because there was an absence of a certain easily-ticked apparition, and thank gods he wasn't there to be creepy. Maybe because the bomb-happy bird was not squawking because he wasn't there. Maybe because King Knight was pacing back and forth nervously, looking as though someone stepped on him a lot of times that caused the dented and less than shiny armor and dirty cape. Maybe because Propeller Knight was not there to pester everyone with his accent. Three out of eight were absent, one was mentally absent, and the remaining four was quietly wondering what the hell had happened.
"What happened?" Polar Knight broke the ice and properly started the meeting.
King Knight erupted into a panicked mess. "Idon'tknowwhatexactlyhappenedIwassittingonmythroneanticipatinganattackandthenthisLARGEthingtoreoffthewall-"
Suddenly, the doors to the hall opened, well, more like kicked open. Floating by the doorway was the phantom bastard himself, looking unusual with the entire front and lower half of the back of his cloak ripped off. His armor sustained large dents, and his head was tilted unnaturally to the right, as if it was snapped. His back was twisted. Both of his hands were curled into glowing fists. He held a little bird alchemist aloft by the hood in his claws. Plague Knight wriggled and complained loudly, flapping his arms up and down and trying to claw at his mortal enemy in the death playground.
"It was just a test! NOW PUT ME DOWN, SPOOKY GHOST!"
"I WILL NOT PUT YOU DOWN UNTIL YOU HAVE CONFESSED TO YOUR CRIME AGAINST ME AND THE ORDER!"
Polar Knight banged his fist on the table, startling everyone else. The angry knights by the doorway started hissing in contained anger and faced the Norse warrior.
"What happened?" The Stalwart harrumphed. "Do not leave anything out. And most importantly, show some respect and stop hissing at each other. You two are like children."
/*earlier, in the forest west of Pridemoor Keep*/
"I bring a letter from the Magicist of the Village Inbetween, Sir Anart of the Woods."
Sir Anart of the Woods, or simply Anart, but that is not his name, almost went into a rant about how he wasn't a bushman or a tree man or a jungle man! He was a gentleman trapped in the woods! A powerful gentleman! But the mere mention of the Magicist calmed him down.
"My cousin?" The young man raised a brow at the mail minion with a bird mask before him and brushed his bangs off of his face. His hair was unkempt and looked like he cut it himself. Sapphire blue eyes scanned the mail minion from beak to feet and hesitantly opened his heavy door for the messenger.
Upon seeing what was inside the little house, the mail minion squawked loudly about the state of Anart's little hiding hole. A cauldron, an empty hole, various cloaks, porcelain teacups on a table, and some pretty jewelry and embroidery in a display shelf. Dirty clothes were strewn all around. Crumpled papers were everywhere. The floor looked dusty and unclean. And in a dark corner was a thin black stick with a five-point golden star was placed.
"Oh man, boss will be angry at you. You should clean your house. And you're an actual sorcerer?! I thought you were another Magicist or Alchemist only that your station is in the forest-"
"Yes, I am the most powerful sorcerer in my family history, at least. I do some alchemy too, though." Anart scowled. "I get it all the time. Why don't I get recognized for my embroidery, tailoring skills, and weaving?"
"I don't know, maybe no one has seen your stuff."
"No one does!" He cried. "But ahem. My message?"
"Oh, right." The minion dug into his messenger's bag and pulled out his letter. "Yes."
Anart tore the seal off the paper swiftly and unfolded it.
Dear cousin,
I'm sorry that I haven't visited often, but my boss has been quite strict. I know you feel like going insane there, but I promise you will still be sane once Plague Knight overthrows the Enchantress and frees you from your forest prison as a result!
There will also be some people going there. They are the Knights of the Supreme and Venerable Society of Pridemoor's Children. They want to work with you. They're rebels against the Order of No Quarter, but mostly King Knight. Good for you, you can get out of there faster.
Also, I have a young girl with me who's interested in your work. She's more into alchemy, however.
Congratulations. More people are coming to your place.
"This is going to kill her one day." Anart muttered to himself.
"I think I should be going. Oh, and you're an awesome sorcerer."
"Yes, but can I have a favor?" He waved his palm in front of his face and closed his eyes. "I have something to ask you to do."
"Sure, sure."
He opened his eyes, now glowing bright green, and immediately magically grabbed the minion's gaze and fixed it on his eyes. He grinned widely. "Forget my location, my house, and my occupation."
The mail minion froze in his place after the order was uttered.
"Now-"
Thud.
Anart frowned, annoyed at the sound interrupting his Short-Term Memory Eraser Spell, and looked to the east, where the royal castle castle stood.
Oh my gods what is that?!
Thud.
Anart gasped when the thing's thing collided with a tower of the keep, the brick and stone slapped away like a child playing with cube blocks.
He knitted his brows together and cast his soul to the sky as far as he was allowed to go.
Bird's eye view is so cool.
The giant horned titan thrust its limb through the wall of the keep and felt around for something.
Anart laughed devilishly and ungentlemanly, his arms up at his sides at the sheer joy and stupidity and genius of the sight before (below) him, and then faced the minion again. "Holy ship, that is lovely. If that is my cousin's team's work, tell her it was awesome to look at. Ask her why making Plague Knight into that wasn't part of the research when you can, like, stomp the Enchantress and squash her into a meaningless splotch of blood as soon as possible so they can get me out of here..."
/*back to the Tower of Fate, emergency Order meeting*/
Specter Knight zoomed to the table and thrust the furious alchemist up. "He was the cause of Pridemoor Keep collapsing and the desecration of my domain and person!"
"It was just a test! Ask Mona!"
"Mona has nothing to do with all of this!"
"Did he bomb Pridemoor Keep?" Mole Knight piped up.
"No." Specter Knight replied softly, and then raised his voice again. "He caused Shovel Knight to-"
Pobpobpobpob.
All knights turned to the window. There was the flying Frenchman, pounding on the glass. He was surrounded by dozens of Hoverhafts droning around him. He looked quite distressed.
"Propeller Knight?" Polar Knight raised a brow.
Propeller Knight started gesturing wildly with his arms and legs. He then curled into a ball and abruptly kicked out and opened his arms wide. He also put the base of his index fingers against his temples, resembling horns. The Frenchman was shouting something at them, but the glass muffled everything he said.
"You started to use a bicycle and you are enjoying it?" King Knight yelled. "Or did you fall off and used a deer to come back?"
Propeller Knight faced the other fancy knight and mouthed a word that could only be 'quoi?'. A Hoverhaft tapped his shoulder, pushed him back, handed him his halberd, and then hovered backwards. The knights inside couldn't help but notice their co-member scream (silently, however) and stiffen in fear as the Hoverhaft flew to the glass window.
Treasure Knight pulled his teammates down. "TRRRK CRRVRRR."
The Hoverhaft did a front flip thrice and extended his legs as he crashed into the glass. The green glass shattered majestically, followed by the Hoverhaft landing gracefully on the table, his arms outwards to stabilize himself. He wheezed and coughed for a little before hollering very angry abuse at the Order of No Quarter.
"All of you! Dummköpfe!" Albrecht hacked for a moment.
"Now, Albrecht, it is not nice to insult people who are basically higher in rank than you are." Propeller Knight flew in gracefully and landed on the cold floor. "We have to evacuate immediately!"
"And why do we need to-"
Suddenly, a gigantic blue fist punched through the wall. Everyone except Polar Knight ducked (Propeller Knight was immediately tackled to the ground and Plague Knight was dropped) and cowered as the hand tore a large hole on the Tower.
When the hand withdrew, everyone stood up and started to scatter. Specter Knight picked Plague Knight back up and pointed his claw at him, hood pulled down to appear furious.
"His potion allowed Shovel Knight to grow into a colossal-"
The tip of the giant shovel collided with the base of the Tower.
… followed by girly screams.
"Give back Shield Knight!"
.
Q is for queen.
He was chasing a scared but cute tiny bunny rabbit.
King Knight just went along with the premise of his story being him chasing a little bunny rabbit.
He went after the frantically hopping bunny without questioning why he was doing so. If he was awake, then he would have questioned it despite his sheer stupidity.
It also didn't occur to Dream King Knight that said bunny was a lop-eared rabbit that resembled Propeller Knight's without the propeller blades on top. Two floppy ears stuck out of the helmet. Its head and ears were gold in color, and its body was green. Its hind legs were black on the feet and white at the tips. And Propeller Bunny was hopping away from him as fast as he could, crying like a baby (another fact that should have woken the usurper earlier, but as we know, he is fairly dimwitted especially in dreams.)
"Come here you bedswerving propeller!" King Knight screeched at the frightened bunny. Propeller Bunny screamed. An oak tree suddenly sprouted out of nowhere, complete with a rabbit hole below. King Knight swiped his hands, but narrowly missed the rabbit. Suddenly, a tiny yellow bird with small wings and a tiny Hoverhaft helmet materialized out of thin air and circled the bunny, screeching confusedly at it. King Knight paused to squint at the bird, who had two flags coming out of its tail. One was the French flag and the other was… a yellow flag with tiny details on it. He didn't recognize it.
Propeller Bunny stopped moving.
King Knight swiped him, grabbing him by his large floppy ears and laughing in victory. Propeller Bunny started screaming in either pain or protest.
"I have you now, you annoying French-"
The tiny propeller bird screeched and flew to King Knight's face to poke his eye with its beak. Annoyed, King Knight swatted the bird away, to which Propeller Bunny cried. Hoverhaft Bird landed painfully some meters behind the usurper.
He held the ensnared bunny to his face and grinned smugly at the bunny's face. "Where's your help now, you nightmare?"
The bunny just sobbed.
"I'm taking you back to Pridemoor… put you in a cage somewhere." He turned around then stared down at the bird surrounded with pink ooze. It wasn't moving, and all the bunny could do was shed choked tears. It cried more when King Knight ruthlessly put his foot over the bird to crush it.
But when his foot came down, there was no sickening bone crunch or an explosion of poofy feathers. Nothing.
The yellow bird turned into a shadow, pitch black and creeping on the ground on its own. The shadow separated into two small tendrils before meeting behind King Knight. The proud knight turned to see the shadow jut out of the earth, shooting up a black slender figure. Two protrusions appeared on the thin object's side. The central shape fattened a little as the protrusions became long, which then abruptly shooting out to form large wings. The sky turned from aqua blue to blood red, and the winged creature grew and grew in size until it became as large as a tower. The head formed a sharp yellow meat-eating beak that could tear the largest of humans apart. It eyes were as red as the sky itself, burning with anger and disgust. Its talons were sharp like well-polished razors and its feet were large enough to grasp three big men in its clutches.
King Knight dropped the bunny, who happily hopped towards the giant monstrous bird, turning its ears like propellers and flying up to its head. It landed comfortably on top of its head and braced on the monstrous bird's tufts with its tiny paws. For a moment all the bird did was kind of coo to the bunny fondly before thrusting its man-sized beak right at King Knight and letting out an unholy screech at his face.
"AAAHHH!" King Knight shrieked himself awake. His heart beat too fast, and his eyes were wide in fear. His crowned helmet was a bit tilted to the side. Everyone was staring at him in bewilderment. Mole Knight and Plague Knight were both leaning away from him. Polar Knight just stared at him, the turkey leg in his fingers and his beard a little greasy. Treasure Knight, Tinker Knight, and Specter Knight leaned to King Knight, all curious of what just went on. Propeller Knight was standing up behind a Ho-
King Knight screamed at the black bird that he saw in his dream and pointed at the puzzled German Hoverhaft.
"Geht's noch…?" Albrecht chuckled nervously at the insane king of Pridemoor and faced Propeller Knight. "You told me he vas uttering your name over and over again vhile he vas asleep, and zhat's vhy I'm here, right?"
"Oui, and now he's screeching at you."
"Ach. Herren, wirf Hirn vom Himmel! Oder Steine, Hauptsache er trifft."
"King Knight, get a hold of yourself, hey!" Mole Knight shook the whimpering knight. "Dammit."
"You are pathetic." Specter Knight dryly muttered. "What is it with Propeller Knight again…?"
"He was a bunny rabbit. I swear. Propeller Knight was a bunny rabbit. When I got him by the ears, this little yellow chick turned into a giant monster bird! There!" He pointed at the now normal-looking human with a halberd and a propeller fan on his back. "I swear I saw him become that bird!"
"It fits him!" Propeller Knight laughed. "You grab me by the ear, he comes and chops off your head."
"I'm not as violent like zhat, you twisted Frenchman. I prefer skinning him alive."
"Did you just call me pathetic, phantom bitch?!" King Knight hollered at the phantom too late.
"First of all, I am a male creature, you oaf. Second, I am wondering what the Hoverhaft will do when… say… Propeller Knight becomes Queen of Pridemoor?"
Albrecht tensed for a moment (with Propeller Knight ohonhoning nearby) before delivering a string of colorful words, but not along the lines of "I will skin him, show him his innards, and bathe in his blood" and more of bewildered outbursts.
"I saw you hit on Propeller Knight when he was wearing a long tunic. Do you forget I know your darkest secrets?" Specter Knight ominously chuckled.
"Well, in my defense, I had to wear a long tunic because my trousers suffered a coffee-related accident…"
"NO!" King Knight gasped. "NO! PLEASE! I BEG THEE!"
And so exploded the news of King Knight mistakenly hitting on Propeller Knight.
.
Q is for quote.
"Let the sun shine on your face, my love!
Your eyes twinkle with courage, but blinded by hurt.
Your hand, mangled by blunt hatred and force
Will be held by mine as it heals, as we both truly suffered.
The infernal rage of Hell, you have felt
As I do now, and so on and on, that is my life.
I have done all in my power to save your soul
And up to the heaven, at least, you can climb."
Lady of War, your gown is stained with the crimson we both know
My hands hold an ocean of innocents, while you spilled only small rivers
Both of us are sinners, but you are a courageous angel
And I am the worst demon, the worst sinner, a wanton murderer."
Honestly, my heart beats when I see you!
I shall be honest and true to you. My words will be soft.
I will stay true to our promise, my precious relic.
Let the sun shine on your face, my love."
The dread of night has passed, and the morning calls for you.
I shall take my leave, but I plant a kiss on your lips, and in the night I shall return for you, and you only."
Such a poetic last verse, Tinker Knight thought as he rubbed his eyes and pushed his tiny body up.
To think he spent a sleepless fortnight inventing the Waking Clock, as he called it. Instead of an annoying cuckoo bird screeching in his ears, he created a simple clock. Every morning it plays lines from literature he loved. Today, it was an excerpt of the end of the epic named "The Lady of War", an old story depicting the titular warrior woman and the legacy she left after too much tragedy.
How informative the clock is. Children can wake up to a clock reciting poems.
It is amazing to think Tinker Knight created his own clock specifically because he hated cuckoo clocks.
.
Q is for quintessential.
The giant bright red warrior tapped his claws on the table as the three samurai sat on their knees before him. He was somehow able to grasp a bird's plume, dip it in black ink, and write left to right on a sheet of clean paper in a clearly foreign calligraphy! How odd, the liquid warriors thought in unison, but chose to remain silent. He was one of their master's subordinates and everyone should be treated with respect and courtesy.
Wait, what master, the inquisitive blue shifter, a newborn liquid samurai, asked itself.
"What are your names?"
Ever so stern and courageous, the red swordsman pointed to itself and spoke in its deep garbled voice. "Ore wa Aka!"
"Watashi wa Midori. Hajimemashite. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu." The archer bowed its head low.
"Boku Ao…" The new shifter giggled, like how all the blue samurai do.
"Right, right, arigato gozaimasu…" Mole Knight jotted down his peculiar observation. 'Blue ones are all Ao, red ones are all Aka, green ones are all Midori.'
And the interview went on like a droning buzz, like a boring and adult-y chapter in life. Stupid things like "have you seen this pot fifteen months ago" (which, honestly, all of them said yes, even the infant blue agreed even if it was barely two months old) were asked, and it started to make the little blue shifter think.
And think.
And think more.
It was odd to see a silent shifting samurai that wasn't in blob form and sleeping. After the interview, all tiny Ao could think of was what was with it that made it so doubtful, so confused, so scared.
All it wanted was to go out, sleep, got to bed, play the piano, go to sleep, sing, hide from any Aka and sleep between cracks in the walls, and fight with all its might.
All Ao samurai want what it wants.
Come to think of it. All of the Aka guys love to fight - they live to fight and die in a fight. The Midori samurai love to take some time off and exchange places while they do and keep a cool mindset to observe the atmosphere.
They also seem to share the same memories, so they all should be the same, right?
So, when it has a question, should everyone else have the same thoughts too?
It seeped its liquid body through tiny crevices and holes in the floor and attached itself to the ceiling of the lower storey, watching the red swordsmen spar and practice intensively. There was almost a uniform movement among all of the red ones. Their swords went from the center above, and slashed downwards with a stepforward, then withdrew with a step backward. They put their swords up towards their face and then struck powerfully in a diagonal motion downwards before cutting back immediately to spin around on their foot to strike diagonally upwards. They all spun back to their original direction, lowered their swords briefly before raising them up, twirling on one foot, and slashing on an imaginary shadow behind them.
How uniform.
How homogeneic.
How… disciplined.
How… anti-individual.
What?
It suddenly fell off the ceiling. The blob splattered to the floor in front of the senior Aka training the newborn ones. It reformed back into humanoid shape afterwards, stupefied and dizzy from the unwanted fall.
With an uncharacteristic tinge of concern, all the red warriors stopped and all asked the little Ao if it was alright.
"Hai." The young Ao sputtered, standing up in its humanoid form.
For some reason, Ao patted itself on its chest and giggled at the now-pissed crowd of Aka's.
Then it hit him.
The knight with the giant claws and fire on the headdress once (in a past life memory?) said something in his foreign language that it didn't quite understand at first.
"Language is a mirror of history and culture, and what you say can already say something about their way of life. We need to learn the Japanese language to understand them better."
There was no beating liquid heart in its chest.
But they had a word for such a thing.
"So what is 'kokoro'?!"
An awkward pause of the red ones staring at him and saying quietly, "there is no word such as 'kokoro', Ao…"
"But I remember sometime that we all had kokoro!" Ao reasoned, a wave of confusion hitting it.
Then suddenly, images in his small watery mind flashed.
A rich lady, in her white and red kimono and thick makeup. Samurai walked around her and bowed to her.
Red, green, and blue. Divisions of specialty.
Admiration.
She was powerful. Magic appeared in her palms and provided them all with nourishing water to drink when tired. Water to heal when hurt.
Respect.
She gave them all food and shelter and honor when they fought for her. Her silky garb would look like flowing water. Water.
Love.
"Kokoro is spirit-"
And, just with that, there was a loud noise, both in high and low pitch, forcing them all to retreat in their small blob selves and escape to safety in tiny cracks, but Ao couldn't fall back into the safety of his sleeping form… it- he clasped hands over ears and screamed at the sound to stop, to cease from hurting him too much. The water of his body loosened their cohesive hold on each other. Drops of blue liquid started forming and his cool liquid body started to vibrate so much.
He fell to his knees.
The heart in him that just started beating was ripped out by the sound.
He collapsed in an unrecognizable puddle of blue water, rapidly turning into violet, then black, before disappearing into the thin air.
.
Q is for questionable.
It would be ridiculous to believe something audacious such as "Propeller Knight is the bright sun of the Flying Machine" despite the fact that its meaning can give one an idea of how he leads his crew.
The trip out of the captain's home estate after a particularly intense clash of emotions was painstakingly slow and dull, even with the captain putting on a convincing mask of cheerfulness and finding so many picturesque valleys and shorelines and mountains.
And, over time, everyone just accepted their present.
Until, however, a time when they flew into a curious barren patch of land in an otherwise lovely valley somewhere to the east of France. The feeling of something off started when they reported the dark and lifeless soil. And then that happened, and then this happened…
One day, Propeller Knight had to go to the curious Tower to negotiate with the terrible witch that lived in it. And after a short time he and his bodyguards came back with fake high spirits.
Again.
Why does he do that, the captain of the guard down to the janitors all wondered to themselves as they watched Propeller Knight immediately retire to his quarters. It's bad for him.
When the crew asked as tactfully as they could, even Abrecht, de facto second-in-command couldn't spit out what transpired inside. The others with him were a little too quiet about what truly happened… eyes wide, hands shaking.
How they were ruthlessly dangled just right above the turbulent waters of a messy death.
How the entire ship had been in mortal danger, for a magical cannon had been aimed at the Flying Machine all the time, and if they tried to leave they would have all been erased from existence and history.
No, don't think about that… it's so terrifying.
"Ve are all stuck in zhis 'Order of No Quarter'." Albrecht then explained the worrying situation to them as clearly as he could, detailing just what they wandered into. His heart ached a little when he saw the panic arise in the non-Hoverhaft crew.
"What are we going to do…" "This is bad! How did this happen?!" "Why are we in the problem, too?" "We're doomed!"
"Calm down!" Albrecht barked abruptly. "Let's all stay put. Zhis problem can be solved if only ve carefully analyze zhe situation. Zhere is no point in panicking vhen somezhing grand and hostile appears."
"You must be different, then." One of the hover crew piped up meekly. "After all, you're still a German. In your homeland, maybe every problem has a solution, but now… there's nothing we can do."
"But ve should be a little more hopeful, shouldn't ve?"
He watched the crowd assembled before sigh and give up. He grit his teeth and then shouted as loud as he could.
"In behalf of zhe captain, I order zhat anyone zhat dares step into zhis airship vithout permission will die. All of you, kill as quickly as you can in the best of your ability! Destroy zhem all! Repel all unknown and hostile entities. Show no mercy to anyone who endangers the Flying Machine!Ve vill resist until our last breath, and even if ve lose, ve are not going down vithout a fight!"
.
Q is for quarter.
"Armies collapse quickly when the soldiers have nothing to rally for. If the general gives his hungry men enough bread in times of hunger, the soldiers will be swift to action and will pledge their undying loyalty."
King Knight hummed in wonder.
"If the general refuses to soothe the rumbling stomachs of the soldiers, he will find himself powerless and weak."
The usurper's brows raised at the sharp change of tone. How informative, he thought to himself.
"As a ruler, give your men happiness and entertain their needs, and if so, they will give you love."
"I have a decree!" King Knight closed his book as he bellowed his statement. A feather quill, a cup of ink, and rolled paper were immediately brought to the throne, and the pretender immediately set to write his order. "I shall have a competition of strength and intelligence! Everyone enjoys those!"
.
Q is for query.
It was a beautiful and peaceful day.
The 'Magicist' watched the kids below her window playing with hoops and running as fast as they could, a sunny smile on her lips and an endless amount of magic boosts to conjure. She poured white sparkling liquid sweetener into a flask dull gray and viscous magical essence and reeled her head back to avoid the dangerous puff of smoke that erupted from the flask. Ethereal blue replaced white and gray. The flask in her hands started to feel hot, and then she placed the new magic booster in a shelf with many other bottled full of the same liquid. Thank goodness Plague Knight got her some new sweetener after he flew off with all of her last supply.
And then, quite mechanically, she reached for a new flask to start working on new
"Kind Magicist, we are in need of your assistance." A buoyant female voice with subtle authoritative undertones interrupted her job, but her hands still couldn't stop.
Without turning to the voice, the 'Magicist' just continued with her permanent work. "Oh… hi there. Do you need any… what was I going to talk about again…"
With a smile, the woman with platinum blonde hair and dark eyes turned to the tall man with thick brows raised in bewilderment. "One, this is the Magicist."
"Cecille- Two, yes, I know. Hehe." One sheepishly laughed it off.
Six stepped forward and waved his hand in front of the 'Magicist'. She blinked, and then finally looked at the group of seven in her little shop. She almost stepped back in sheer surprise, and if she did, she would have toppled the cauldron and cause an alchemical tragedy that might turn the people inside into living mush. A dark purple moth entered the shop from the window and flew suspiciously by the 'Magicist'. She flicked the moth off her and sent it flying around aimlessly.
Roman cleared his throat. "Well, I think we should be straight to the point, One."
"Agreed, but help me put the moth out where it belongs. Might mess up with the dear Magicist's work." Gil brushed his slightly long silver hair back when he felt an insect walking on his hair. Four, or Feliks, who was taller than him by two heads, swatted the moth away, but ended up accidentally killing it on the old soldier's head, and balked in disgust at the apparently glowing violet guts and blood that ended up on his palm and head.
"You should be a little more precise, Feliks." Five growled and crossed her arms.
"Sorry." Four showed the bloody palm to her. "I'm going to have to wash it off. Gil, let's get that thing off your hair by the fountain."
"No, let's just clean it after we talk to the Magicist." Gil smiled.
Somewhere to the north, in a tower, a demoness chuckled at the foolish mortals that dared fight her.
"Oh, all is well, knights." The 'Magicist' generously waved it off. "Why are you here again?"
Siegfried shrugged a bit, and then spoke to her with a new air of power. "We might need something that can combat the undead. We are expanding our territory, and since we are quite close to the territory of the Order of No Quarter's most infamous member, we might need more equipment to combat him-"
"So you want to kill Specter Knight? He's already dead." The Magicist, gaining some of her true mind, raised her brow at the entire group. "I'm afraid I am not that powerful to negate the magic that keeps him undead. The Enchantress is unparallelled in terms of power and wits, and Specter Knight being revived is a testament to it. I do know of someone..."
"If it's possible to kill him, I'll be glad to do it right now." Five snapped grouchily. "If he's gone, then we'd have less problems and less headaches."
"I think you'd all like that possibility…" The blonde turned to her shelf, reached to the back, and pulled out a blank sheet of paper and a roll of yellowed paper. She handed the aged paper to One and then sat down on a chair to pick up a quill and scribble on the blank leaf.
"What's this?" Siegfried carefully unrolled it.
"A map, brave knight." She answered without looking up at the paper. "I request that you go to the place marked on it tomorrow afternoon, for we need to book a reservation for him."
"And this leads to…?"
"My cousin in the woods west of Pridemoor." She replied, putting her quill down. She politely gestured to Roman. "Also, was it your daughter that came to my shop some time ago to learn alchemy? I think my cousin is a better teacher since he has too much time."
Roman smiled courteously. "I appreciate it, but I would have to see who your cousin is."
"Oh? Okay. Please refer to my cousin as Anart."
"Anart? Anti-paintings?" Gil tilted his head, quizzed.
"I don't know why he picked that name, too. Sorcerers don't like people knowing their real names." The Magicist paused for a moment and sighed pitifully. "He has spent much time alone there, in the middle of the forest, so I don't exactly expect him to be in the right mind."
There was a small silence.
"I'm not letting Ophelia near him, then." Three piped up.
"If he can eliminate our threat immediately, I don't see a problem." Five shrugged.
"We'll go see him." Siegfried rolled the paper and nodded to her. "Thank you for your help."
/*the day after*/
Siegfried sheepishly checked his map and compass, two other supreme knights behind him and curious. Their subordinated trailed behind them, also looking confused.
"Well, that's what is in the map…" Six shrugged and glanced to the garden in front of a house.
There was a scraggly man with fair hair with a ridiculous asymmetrical bangs haircut and some stubble. His blue eyes shone with authority and serenity but his not-so-clean face, desperate hair, dirty grern cape just screamed "tramp in the woods". Yet he sat outside of a small and humble house in the middle of a clearing, enjoying his afternoon tea with porcelain cups and plates as well as a general gentlemanly smile. His pinky was even up and not touching his teacup like how royalty seem to do it.
"Good day, gentlemen!" The cloaked gentleman-tramp waved to them with a smile. "Are you lost?"
The soldiers approached the curious man cautiously.
"We are looking for Sir Anart." Four announced solidly, tilting his chin up and stiffening his back.
"That's me!" The tea person grinned widely, then put his cup up to his lips for a small sip of tea. He let out a deep sigh as the rich taste of his own brew soothed his mind and body. "Are you the knights my cousin Magicist wrote to me about?"
"Indeed, good sir."
"So, I think you don't have a problem with King Knight." Anart waved a hand. "You have a problem with Specter Knight and that evil bitch who got me here in the first place I want her a large bloodstain on the wall-"
Green magical aura surrounded his fisted hands, and when he banged it on the table, sparks of yellow and white erupted from his fists and danced briefly before fading away.
"Please calm down, sorcerer." Six gently said.
"Well, before I dilly-dally…" Anart waved his glowing hand around, letting his fury disappear. A serene mind lets you channel your magic better. The trees and sky and grass shimmered and warped in everyone's sight, the dizzying distortion both terrifying and amazing. The soil turned into hard cold stone. Walls of shelves with books of different colors and sizes appeared, and the ceiling so far up. Tiny orbs of bright bluish light floated around lazily, like slow fireflies in a tranquil night. Bubbling cauldrons were neatly placed apart of each other in a shelf-less corner. Some cloaks and capes were hung nicely on a coat rack, and various wands - crooked and straight, long and short, dull and bright, polished and unpolished, broken and pristine, all kinds - were kept in their own little shelf.
"I made the Flare Wand. I made the Flareo Wand. I made many things in my lifetime, all of them a testament to my power." Anart boasted darkly. "And now I shall do it again, this time much, much more powerful than even Serum Supernus… at least, marginally?"
Siegfried glanced at Gil and Feliks and shot him a 'help me I do not know what to do' look. Hardened knights, all of them dumbfounded by this half-insane man they were referred to for assistance.
"What if I make something that negates undeath?"
"Is it possible?" One asked. "If so, we are gladly accepting your services."
A wide nigh-malicious grin found its way to the sorcerer's face. He pointed his still-glowing hand at a book high up in the opposite shelf. Its pages flipped on its own once it floated to a fixed distance before his manic eyes.
"What happens now?" One asked after inching away from Anart.
"Now?" He chuckled darkly. "Let's practice sorcery."
.
Q is for question.
Plague Knight was unusually serious that day.
Everyone also felt like… being watched.
"Magicist, I know the duplication potion is also causing your upper double to lose awareness and have bad short term memory." The little alchemist murmured.
"I know that too, but I actually did it and not my double." The blonde girl replied, dropping the dead moth's remains into a jar of transparent liquid. It immediately turned dark violet, and the woman in blue widened her eyes in surprise. "This moth possessed too much magic in its body… what species is it?"
Plague Knight ignored her statement. "But why did you tell One, the entire Order's mcost threatening enemy as of now, the whereabouts of your cousin, who, I don't know, happens to be both an alchemist and a sorcerer?!"
"It's to remove any suspicion of her, you know." Mona crossed her arms.
"That's right!" The Magicist beamed.
"How does it remove suspicion-"
"My cousin happens to be trapped in the forest, Plague Knight." The Magicist interrupted gently. "I joined the team to help him get out of there, too, you know. Everyone up there knows I do alchemy. They don't mind because I just do magic boosts and health potions. It's the helpful alchemy that keeps them at bay, but there are risks… so I gave them directions to Anart's hiding place!"
"You cousin's name is Anart?!" Plague Knight squawked. "Anti-paintings?!"
"Not exactly, his real name is A- oh wait, no. I'm not allowed to say his real name. Sorcerers usually get into really deep trouble with demons who know his occupation if their name is uttered."
The team felt the tension loosen up a little.
Somewhere to the north, in a tower, a demoness hissed in frustration.
.
Q is for quiet.
King Knight's guards were roving around the stadium, keeping watch on the peasants and commoners and nobles all watching the horses and their equestrians race around the track. The sentries loyal to King Knight just watched the competition below instead of keenly observing the cheering audience, the majority rooting for an equestrian named 'Arthur'. He had a bow and a quiver of broad-ended arrows on his back, wearing a hunter's smock and jacket. He played as a 'hunter of wild horses'. Many others dressed as lightly armored knights, a parody of nobility, minstrels on horseback, and a croquet player. Horsemen were the noisiest of them all cheering on their brothers and sisters and cousins and great grandfathers and third degree cousins twice removed, whinnying at the top of their lungs for promises of rewards in oats. Occasionally they neighed right in the ears of the circling guards.
But all was well.
In a balcony high above was King Knight, happily watching the horse race in the track and the noisy spectators contentedly. His plan seemed to be going swimmingly. People were happy. Food was given out. There should be at least more loyalty for him.
Anything sharp like butcher's knives were confiscated outside. Blades were absent in the stadium except for the swords of armed sentries walking around.
Everything should be safe. Security was tight.
"Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!" The crowd cheered unanimously when the man in hunter's outfit led his horse through a series of tightly-timed obstacles.
"It seems to be working." King Knight muttered happily to himself as he sipped wine. "Ah, the kingdom is happy."
Arthur looked up to the left, at the monarch of Pridemoor, his bright and happy eyes hiding a hidden agenda. The crowd cheering his name, the other participants already lagging behind him-
There was an audible high-pitched whistle, lasting for a little too long than the other whistles.
He was so close to the finish line, to the final hurdle that would give him the reward he all so craved. Arthur smiled.
Then the long whistling sputtered into a staccato of seven bursts. The woman behind the whistling grinned, her dark flowing hair concealing her face.
There's my signal! Thanks, Five, Arthur thought, and the world slowed down from frantic speed to a snail's pace, the sunlight so bright and dizzying that King Knight, to his sight, was the darkened target.
The horsemen whinnied and then kicked the nearby guard's upper spines as powerfully as they could. Their hooves connected to the tempered metal and left a deep and fatal dent on the armor. Concealed knives within commoner men and women's padded sleeves were brought out and driven into the exposed necks of unsuspecting guards.
The crowd erupted in screams at the sudden bloodshed. Reinforcements from outside entered immediately, but the volume of people trying to get out and freedom fighters assaulting them in the same time pushed them back out.
The rich partisan nobility, seeing the commotion arise within the commoner's level, began to file out of their luxurious balconies, only to be blocked by the knights of the undercover nobles and facing their bloody deaths.
King Knight stood up, horrified at the scene below him.
"The insurgents are here! How did this happen?!" He screamed. "Arrest them all! Get them, dead or alive!"
Arthur, the Seventh Knight of the Supreme and Venerable Society of Pridemoor's Children, laughed. You made a mistake, he said to himself. He grabbed his bow and picked out the true arrow. He then swiftly aimed it up at the distracted usurper of the Order of No Quarter.
He let go of the bowline.
King Knight gasped and moved a little, the broad arrowhead grazing his puffy cheek instead. Golden eyes stared down wide at the now-scowling Arthur.
"You, too, Arthur? The greatest equestrian of-"
"I am the Seventh Knight!" Arthur shouted. "Your days are numbered now, false king! Say your last prayers!"
Up next: R is for rules.
Translations:
Dummköpfe! - Idiots!
Geht's noch - are you still sane? (slang)
Herren, wirf Hirn vom Himmel! Oder Steine, Hauptsache er trifft. - Gods, throw some brains from the heavens! Or stones as long as he hits the mark. (basically what Germans say when they encounter the worst of stupidity. They aren't fucking about, people.)
The Japanese the Liquid Samurai are just many variations of "I am _".
Hajimemashite. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu - Nice to meet you. Please be nice to me.
Also, the Propeller Bunny idea came from a dear friend on Tumblr, spincontroller! I'm also failing spectacularly with my author blog, too. I thought I could post the characterization posts now but I thought it would be too spoiler-y so I reserved them for the end of this series instead...
I would also like to address the Banana Knight joke's problem - people seem to think it's his armor but it's actually the silhouette of his boss sprite! Take away the scythe and the claws and you have a Banana Knight.