Brendon had spent as little time in the town he'd found as possible. It was populated entirely by the spirits, ghostly figures that all looked human, but with horrible scares and grim auras about them that made them unsettling to be around. He'd gone in, gone to the shops to spend the money he'd been gathering (he'd not even noticed that he'd been getting money along with his grist, referred to as Boondollars) and left once he had what he wanted.

He'd only purchased two things. The first was a set of iron armor which was immediately alchemized with the Boxcar Buffer to create the Reinforced Boxcar Buffer, and a healing potion which he couldn't alchemize with anything, as he'd spent all his current grist. Alchemy just seemed to burn through the stuff it seemed, and he'd have to gather more if he wanted to continue.

As he left the town, he caught sight of something not too far off. Across another expanse of fanged, fleshy terrain was a large temple that appeared to have been carved out of a massive white fang. Brendon, armored and armed, made his way towards it, fighting off the lowly shale imps that were trying to stop him along the way there.

He'd needed to chop the door to the temple down Jack Nicholson style to get inside, finding the first floor of it populated by jade imps, roughly fourteen. Half of them were airborne, either with wings or jet engines. The rest were grounded, though the ones on the ground seemed to have more different component parts. He could handle most of them, though the robotic parts were the fucking bane of his existence.

His Super Shotty made short work of the imps, reloading so fast and hitting so hard with such a wide spread that it wiped out the floor in a matter of minutes. He couldn't help but laugh, thinking that if this gun were any more broken it'd be a race horse. Not to mention how easily his outfit soaked up damage without actually getting damaged itself.

The next floor was admittedly more difficult. Two Rust Ogres, one with long hooked claws, an unsettling jester's grin, rodent-like teeth, and roots spreading across the floor. The second was a fully cybernetic ogre, complete with jet engine wings. These.. these would be significantly less easy to deal with. Brendon equipped his Spade Sparer, letting his thoughts flood with memories of his sparring sessions with Furlok.

Memories of her infuriating inferiority complex, wonderful sense of creativity, smut fucking voice, and sexy fucking ass causing the axe to practically turn red hot in his hands as he slashed at the air, sending a slash wave of black fire at the grinning ogre, setting its root vines on fire. It howled in pain as its vines shriveled up, removing its most dangerous aspect.

Brendon was knocked to the ground by a missile shot to his back from the cyborg ogre. He turned and fired twice from his gun, sending the ogre all the way back to the wall before turning back to the first ogre and running forward, counting a slash from its claws with his axe, and strength and heat from it cutting through the claws and leaving its face open to another double tap shot from the Super Shotty, killing the ogre.

He threw the Spade Sparker across the room into the other ogre, letting the memory of his first pitch make out with the teal blooded troll fuel its flames as it cut into the ogre's chest and began melting it. Brendon retrieved the weapon and collected the grist before heading up to the third and final room of the temple. It had only one monster, which he supposed made it the boss.

It looked about ten feet taller than the ogres, its arms bulky and muscled, ending in mole-like claws and lined with feathers. Its eyes were robotic in nature, almost certainly capable of firing lasers. Its mouth was canine, its tail long with a scorpion point, and its back covered by a massive turtle shell. It was a Brimstone Archeon, and it did not look happy to see Brendon. He gulped, and hoped the grist would be worth it.


Patior woke from a rather alarming dream. He'd been traveling through a dark, purple kingdom, attempting to avoid being seen by what he could have sworn were Dersites. This in and of itself wasn't what was so distressing to him though. What confused and annoyed him the most was that he could very clearly remember that in the dream he'd not just been wondering aimlessly, he'd been looking for Aspico, wanting to find her, needing to.

He pushed the memory of this dream to the back of his mind where it and all other thoughts of the olive blood belonged, focusing on his current situation. He'd fond a massive metal structure, a series of pillars and beams that weren't rushing despite the constant rain fall. Before sleeping he'd climbed to the center of it, where he'd found a locked metal chest. The structure provided semi-decent rain protection, furthered by his umbrella, hence sleep being possible at all where he was.

He turned his attention back to the chest, using his bayonet to break the lock and open it. Inside he found a series of tablets with writing on them. Curious, he positioned his umbrella so he could sit underneath it while he read from them. They seemed to describe the history of LoRaR, going back to before the never ending storm that now ravaged the land.

LoRaR was once a lush, green, wondrous land, plagued not by wind or rain. We were a prosperous people, finding mines of iron ore to build out towns and structures out of. It was a time of peace and happiness, before the Denizen arrives. He came, bringing with him storms to drowned our planet in water, corroding our structures along with our will to go forward. Many have tried to find the Denizen's lair, believing that defeating him will bring an end to these storms and free us from the water. With the rain stopped, the plants may grow, the mines may dry, and the structures no longer rust over.

But there has been no success. The luckiest of us simply return months later, unable to find the lair of the denizen. The unlucky are those who find it, and never return to their homes. Those that return though, bring with them a prophecy. 'The Mage of Mind shall one day come. They will bring with them logic and reason, and bring with them the end of our suffering, and the end of the denizen.'

Many rally behind the name of the Mage of Mind, believing they will be our salvation. Others believe the Mage of Mind to be our enemy, feeling that the Denizen only brought the storm to prevent the Mage from finding them and killing them, and should the Mage be killed, the rain shall stop. And still there are those who do not believe at all, who fear the denizen will rule forever, his rain never ceasing.

Patior contemplated the tablet, but to him, the two most interesting question to be found were why the land had been called LoRaR, which was short for Land of Rust and Rain, before there had been any rust or rain on it, and why the consorts didn't simply harvest a less-rust prone metal, such as these structures, rather than waiting for some hero to save them. He concluded that the consorts were simply not the smartest of creatures.


Furlok slapped the ogre across the stomach with her red paint brush and backed up as it began melting through him. She'd had to spend the entirety of her grist making this weaponized paint set to go with her Brushwear, but it had been completely fucking worth it. She'd been chewing through the enemies ever since she made it, melting, burning, blasting, and shrinking them out of her way as she progressed through the frog infested section of her land.

She'd started with the simple goal of get as far as she could before getting board and turning around to raid the marketplace again, but an actual destination presented itself after the first hour or so of investigated the frog lands. In the distance was a massive looming tower, greenish in color from whatever it'd been made out of, with a giant stone frog head carved onto the front of it.

She could tell it was different from the normal enemy temples, of which she'd entered one on whim, been dog piled by imps who shed quickly dispatched, and then completely ignored the second. This tower, this building was something different. She didn't know why, but she could feel it, like a voice in the back of her head spurring her on towards it in spite of logic. She'd not even known she as moving towards it at first, but once she did, began progressing towards it faster.

Furlok assumed herself to be following her natural creative muse, the same influence that had driven her to spend so much time on her masterpiece painting (which she'd not yet even finished, though did have in her sketch modus for completion at a later date), an instinct that had never once steered her in the wrong direction before; even if the direction had often been hazardous.


Java had woke blushing and in need of a shower. She'd gotten a room at an inn run by the consorts of her land. She'd laid down in bed to rest, and found herself in an incredibly detailed dream. She could remember a golden city populated by Prospitans, she could remember being able to float, and she could remember following her urge to find Arvis. He'd been asleep in a nearby tower, and she'd..

Java blushed deeper at the recollection of it. It was just a dream. A very, very detailed dream that had left her clothing in a less than suitable state. She felt awhile dealing with this, and once she was presentable again, headed out. Unlike most of the players in the session so far, Java actually had a goal in mind, and had since the previous night.

She'd spoken with her consorts shortly after reaching town. She'd learned about their culture, how flight had been a symbol of status in their world, how every family owned at least one plane that was always kept in the air by someone, only brought down to refuel and switch pilots. And she'd learned how they'd not been able to land in far too long.

The denizen had come, finding himself somewhere on LoFaB, using his powers to create the giant fans that now scattered across the land's surface, their ever blowing wind preventing the planes from ever landing and keeping their pilots trapped in the air, fated to slowly starve and dehydrate while their friends and families below tried helplessly to rescue them.

Java wasn't sure how she was meant to do it, but she knew her mission: find the denizen, kill his ass, save the pilots.


Also, there's a lemon for the last chapter in Sinful's Drabbles. I suppose you could technically say it was for this chapter, considering we only see Java's reaction upon her waking up.