childrenofbahamutlogs | EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

A CRASH IN THE NIGHT

In the dark hours of a snowy early morning, a sudden BOOM can be heard all across Town. It is swiftly followed by sounds of warping metal and then a screeching crash. Curious, albeit groggy, residents emerge only to find a smoking wreck just a mile outside of Town.

The strange craft appears to be almost nautiloid in shape with wrenched, broken tendrils streaming out the opening.

Much of it is metal although some of it almost seems... organic.

Those who with to get a closer look will be met by Charlie and Dimitri who are already on the job. They request curious onlookers keep their distance since this craft is, without a doubt, tremendously dangerous.

Later in the day, there appears to be an outfit of officials coming from the west to investigate and clean up the wreckage. Thankfully(?), you will all find out soon enough what's going on.

INVESTIGATION & PROTECTION

Deathcard Cabin by Jonah Senzel

4:07 / 13:06

▶︎

Click here to listen.

From the Inscryption OST: A unique and haunting sound paired with a unique and haunting game.

code

Charlie reports to the citizens of Town that an Illithid cargo transport. The pilot did not survive the crash, but they appeared to be transporting some kind of new breed of Intellect Devourers.

"We do not yet know what this new breed is capable of, but..."

Charlie does give everyone a rundown of what an Illithid and what an Intellect Devourer is, what they are capable of, and a keen warning to tread lightly. Many dead ones were discovered in the cargo but several of the enclosures were damaged in the crash and the likelihood of escapees is high.

Charlie reiterates: These creatures are to be killed on sight, or contained until someone can kill it. If you are not confident in your combat abilities, please remain in your homes as much as possible and seal all openings to your dwelling. Those who are capable though are urged to begin patrols of Town alongside Slayd, Dimitri and himself to ensure that Town and the surrounding areas are safe.

Please travel in pairs or groups, do not be alone! Attack from a distance when possible. Hoshiko will offer her assistance as a markswoman as well by picking off any Intellect Devourers from a distance that she can for those that are forced to travel alone. (Don't worry about any jokes she makes of her service not being cheap though. Charlie wouldn't actually let her charge you anything.)

Unfortunately, not even they can predict the blizzard that rolls through Town in the midst of all this. If you happen to see anything skittering through the snow, don't panic too much. It could just be a tiny woodland creature looking for a warm burrow to hide away in!

At least you hope it is.

PROMPT #3

Hybrid intellect devourers are unique from the regular ones in that the goal is not to kill their target, but to gather intelligence and act as a kind of spy network.

They will flee when confronted directly by greater numbers, but will attack a lone target. They do this by jumping at the target's head and wrapping a wet tendril around their neck. They will choke who they've wrapped around if anyone tries to remove it. They are also far more likely to try and attack sleeping target (hence the advice to keep your homes closed!).

These hybrids emit spores that will keep the target asleep during feeding. Their primary goal appears to be infiltrating the targets' minds and absorbing some of their memories. The target will have their mind left mostly intact... though they may suffer short term memory loss, confusion, distress, fatigue and head pain.

Here's where the fun starts!

Once one of these critters has fed on someone, they are onto their next target. When a fed Intellect Devourer feeds from another target, that target may absorb some of the previous target's memories. This can span across multiple victims and be erratic in whose memories taint whose mind. The memories will cross-pollinate in the form of dreams or waking visions and hallucinations.

If one of these creatures is killed, it will explode, releasing a powerful psionic wave and the memories it had absorbed from any recent targets. Anyone within ten (10) yards of the dying creature will be afflicted with extreme head pain in the short term and also witness the memories of it's previous victims.

Enjoy your muddled memories and leggy brain-hunting!

The outfit of people who have come to investigate are from New Svihelen's disaster containment squad and are investigating the hybrid creatures and the possible reason for an Illithid ship to crash here of all places. Right now, the running theory is that interference from the selfsame summoning circle that brought you all here could have caused the interplanar navigation systems of the ship to malfunction but nothing has been determined yet.

Eventually, these creatures will all be rounded up and taken care of. They are persistent and stealthy though in their efforts to survive above all else. Charlie assures that they're doing all they can to make Town safe once and for all but it will take some time.

Notes

⁂ The partner plotting post for this event/quarter is also up!

⁂ Additionally, we have a state of the game post available for people to read about updates, clarifications, and housekeeping items!

⁂ If you have any further questions or feedback about this event specifically, please comment here!

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Mithrun manages, at least, to push himself up on one shaking arm, his other hand clutching the front of his coat. Suddenly, his head is spinning. His chest feels constricted.

Something is wrong.

His ears twitch toward the direction of Popp's voice. Answering will give up any illusion that Popp is on his own-- but that ship may already have sailed. Furthermore, if he doesn't respond, the kid may well assume that nothing has changed, and he still has Mithrun backing him up.

Mithrun drags in a ragged breath, and calls back. "We need t-"

Something crunches in the snow by Mithrun. His gaze flits to the approaching Devourer, and he pries his hand away from his chest to grab for... anything. The nearest branch broken away by his fall. He snatches it from the ground and casts.

He was aiming for the ID, of course, but, honestly, who knows where it actually goes. Not like Mithrun will be conscious to see it, after forcing a spell on the last dregs of his mana.

The most important part of that reply was the way it cut off in a hurry! For better or for worse, Popp's quick to act in times of danger, and immediately flies at top speed in the direction of Mithrun's fading voice just in time to get a branch right through his arm. He crashes with a yelp, putting him outside of the ID's threat range long enough for it to get its tentacles exactly where nobody but the ID wants them to be.

This is far from an incapacitating wound by Popp's standards, and he shows up properly to the rescue complaining about Mithrun's aim and also his audacity at stealing Popp's role as the bait, not that he minds fighting but you could have given him a heads up, for crying out loud...

Look, there's smarter ways to do this but first of all he is panicking a little bit because this is very alarming to watch and he would like it to stop, second of all shut up, third of all it's not like the side effects have been that bad just crazy painful for a bit with some emotional trauma every single time - fourth of all see point two, again, he's... not blasting it away with the strongest explosion he's got because it's on Mithrun's head, actually! He's not that reckless!

What he does do is turn his forearms into dragon claws and tears into it like a wet paper bag, which is super gross and not actually the grossest dragon mauling he's been party to! It does start strangling his fellow idiot wizard in retaliation, but a mouth full of paralytic poison takes care of that and lets Popp finish the job!

(...Some may have gotten on Mithrun. It's. It's fine. He's already unconscious he probably won't notice...)

That's fine, for sure. Not like he was going anywhere for a while, as it is.

Unable to fight back, the Intellect Devourer only briefly manages to twitch and spasm before going limp, easy to finish off - and at least Popp already knows to brace himself when it bursts.

Mithrun sits on the floor of a dimly-lit hallway, its walls lined with grimy, cracked frames that may have once held paintings or mirrors. Someone kneels behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Something looms in front of him. It has the head of a lion, though adorned with thick, curved horns. Its body is like a man's, albeit covered in golden fur. It towers, taller than any human, muscular arms wrapped around its chest. A young woman with long, tapered ears and golden hair huddles under its bulk behind a half-dozen gleaming golden wings.

The awed, horrified whispers behind Mithrun hardly garner his attention - but for one. Two words that ring in his mind with more force than anything else. "A demon."

The winged lion - the demon - yawns and stretches, as though just awoken. Its gaze sweeps over Mithrun, or maybe just over the area he's crouched in, pushing into a kneel, and it speaks. "It's been so long since I've tasted freedom... but it looks like now is no time to be lounging around. What shall you have us do, Marcille?"

The woman in its hold startles and looks up at it, wide-eyed. She protests, but Mithrun's attention stays locked on the lion. He rises to his feet, pushing from under the hold of the person crouched behind him, as the demon responds. "Let me explain it to you once more. I am merely a source of power. I can do nothing without someone to wield that power."

Marcille just starts to answer: "Someone to wield your power... which means--"

Mithrun takes off at a run.

His hand flies out to brush over the cracked frames lining the wall, each appearing half-embedded in the demon's body - its wing, its shoulder, one bisecting its face. One severs a horn. In a blink, Mithrun is above the demon and the woman. He snatches the broken horn from the air and brings it down. It pierces flesh - the demon's massive hand, held between Mithrun and Marcille.

Mithrun hisses through his teeth. The demon (wood and glass still embedded down the center of its muzzle, its own horn skewering its hand) looks at him with round, unassuming eyes. His stomach turns. "Hey, now. She's still just an ordinary adventurer, you know. That's against the rules."

He rips the frame from its face and casts. It reappears between the demon's head and shoulders, and that head slides and thumps to the ground. Mithrun drops a thick sheet of flesh, Marcille shrieks as he reaches for her - and that other broad, golden hand blocks his way. The demon's voice rumbles from the flat stump of its neck. "You're really not getting the message, are you?"

Mithrun's heart hammers behind his ribs, and he tears his cape free of his shoulders. "You're a manifestation of the infinite. If I can't kill you, then I have no other choice, you bastard."

The demon scoffs, even as Mithrun whips his cape over his head. The fabric embeds itself across the demon’s shoulders and chest. He rips it free. He casts, and a wing drops to the ground. He casts. The demon loses a hand. A leg. Bits and pieces and sheets of flesh fall away, but it only takes seconds after he casts for golden feathers to bloom from the wounds, regenerating as fast as Mithrun can do damage. Voices shout behind him, but he pays them no mind - not until an array of thick, earthen spikes burst from the ground, piercing through the demon's body.

Things change quickly, from there - a seeming turn of the tides, as those accompanying Mithrun focus their efforts. The demon momentarily immobilized. The woman who had hidden in its grasp running, injured but moving. Mithrun breaks off one of those spikes. It disappears from his hand, replaced by flesh and bone, and the woman staggers and falls.

He teleports just a few feet away from her. There is no malice in his voice when he speaks. "Just give up. There's no way your wish was ever going to be fulfilled."

He stoops down and reaches for her, his hand about to settle on the back of her neck. Marcille whips around, teeth gritted and green eyes sharp, to grip his wrist, and she calls out to the lion. "I'll become the lord of the dungeon!"

Dread drops in Mithrun's stomach. Everything is overtaken in blinding light.

There’s pressure around Mithrun’s ribs. The demon is before him again, intact. Marcille sits on its arm, uninjured, wide-eyed. “Well, then. With this, I am at your service, Marcille.” Its tone brightens, as though it weren’t gripping Mithrun in one hand. As if he hadn’t been tearing it apart seconds before. “What shall we begin with? A new outfit? A remodel of the dungeon?”

Before Marcille can fully answer, the demon’s grip tightens, and Mithrun’s ribs creak, pain shooting up his sides as he strains to breathe. “Ahh, yes. Getting rid of your enemies comes first, huh?”

Marcille protests, and it doesn't squeeze any tighter. They go back and forth. Mithrun’s ears are ringing, cold sweat rising on his skin from something beyond the restriction of his breath by the demon’s hand. There’s a flurry of activity, others trying to take down the woman or the demon or both - and, very suddenly, it stops. Behind Mithrun, there are shrieks and protests; with whatever the demon is doing drawing its attention, he manages to drag in a breath, to force his focus enough to catch a complaint from Marcille. The demon huffs back that it's what she wanted. Mithrun struggles, and gets nowhere.

More sounds - something cracking and tearing, and even more terrified screams. Mithrun manages to twist just enough to catch sight of something - what looks like a spider, if one were to replace its head with that of a plush bear, descending on a small woman with short-cropped hair and long, notched ears. He barely glimpses more of the same carnage further down the hall - more elves, each dressed in similar tunics and silken armor, unconscious or trapped by more of the spider-bear-things.

Marcille asks to retreat (something, if Popp catches it through the haze of distraction and exhaustion clouding Mithrun's memory, about stopping someone from decomposing), and panic rises in Mithrun's chest again - even before the demon's free hand settles over Marcille, blocking her view.

Its gaze shifts to Mithrun once more. The longest it's bothered to look at him. Mithrun's throat goes tight. "Until we meet again, Mithrun."

Mithrun starts to protest - and with a swing of its arm, the demon hurls him against the stone floor.

It’s only with a last-minute cast that Mithrun lands-- elsewhere. Somewhere other than splattered on the ground. He’s surrounded by some kind of thick fluid, and his already-struggling lungs protest. He waits as long as he can - until he hears new voices, two men and a woman. Until he doesn’t think he can force himself not to inhale any longer. He feels for an opening, pushes, and tears free, dragging in a pained breath as he breaks free of his hiding place. Someone screams, and he doesn’t even look - just lurches to his feet, muscles protesting every movement.

He forces a step forward, and another, and warm hands grip his wrist. Mithrun stops in place and turns. He’s face to face with a young man, this one with short, rounded ears, dark hair and wide blue eyes. Mithrun’s voice rasps in his throat. “Let go.”

“Where are you going? We need to take a minute to recover and regroup.”

“Right now, when she’s just become a dungeon lord, is when she’ll be easiest to kill.” He pulls against the man’s grip, to no avail. “She’ll be harder for us to deal with with each minute that passes.”

He looks almost concerned. “Even so, it’s impossible to do anything in your state. You’re on the verge of running out of mana.”

Mithrun pulls away, his sights locked down the hall in the direction the demon disappeared. “There’s no time--”

The man’s hold releases, for just a moment - and then there’s an arm around his throat, and Mithrun is pinned between his chest and hips and the flat expanse of the wall. Mithrun protests, but the man only pushes harder. His arm tightens around Mithrun’s throat, and dark spots bloom over his vision.

His words fade, distant, as Mithrun's overtaxed body gives out and the memory goes dark. “If you can’t avoid this, then you don’t stand a chance of beating a demon.”

Since when was Ardyn a healer?

At some point, apparently. Or in another universe perhaps. If not for what he knows of the Intellect Devourers, Ignis has to admit that he'd struggle to tell which is a more viable answer. For now, he simply nods and pulls his cloak back into place tight around his shoulders.

"The creatures do seem to prefer more subtle ways of attacking people." Subtle like a brick to the head that almost make Ardyn seem like a lost puppy instead of a rabies-filled mess that should be put down behind a shed, but still. Although since there is a chance... "I have never had a chance to see your healing. What is it like?"

The Caelums he knows can imbue their power into the average drink, which has a restorative effect, he knows... But what of Ardyn? Get a flask of water, and do the same? Or something else?

....Well. The latter certainly has a fitting name I suppose.

[Like. He CAN say that much for it. And it isn't as though his own country doesn't have pretty aptly named creatures. "Gigantoad" is fairly self explanatory.]

Really, treefaces sound somewhat similar to a creature I have heard about back home, called a Mandrake... although its 'face' is really more a mimic of one if we wanted to get into the technicalities of it all.

Slow but purposeful is one way to put it. Rosie does wonder how much he was aware of what he was doing, and how much was just... He didn't know any other way to be. He'd spent so many of his lives alone and afraid; it made sense, honestly, why he acted as he did and lost himself a little at a perceived lack of control. It made sense but it didn't excuse it any. That's the part she has trouble with still though.

"I'm sorry," she says, first and foremost. "You shouldn't have had to work for that? But I get it, actually. My dad also wasn't great and got even worse after my mom died, so- It felt like nothing I could do was enough for him either. It's why I kind of set out on my own when pretty young too." Well, that and the fact he tried to kill her. Definitely wanted some distance after that, understandable!

"How old were you? I mean, I guess it doesn't really matter but- I am glad that you did find something else you wanted to do. Something better. I thought my thing would be music, but... That didn't keep me safe, unfortunately." Charlie did though. At least, he kept her safe from things that weren't him.

Somewhere, she knows from that memory that she met a terrible fate. Angeal had thought it, had felt worried about her state after- It clicked into place what he was referring to now that she is sifting through all the thoughts, feelings, and perspective that wasn't hers. The tactile feeling of the hand rubbing against her back is familiar yet still distant as she remembers part of a life that wasn't necessarily hers.

"Right," she answers, to his statement but also to that she can get up. "We, uhm. We were talking, and- I got upset? About something unrelated, but somehow it came up that I thought you weren't into me. And you weren't - aren't? - but not... in a bad way, just." It's hard for this Rosie to conceptualize, honestly, that anyone would like her for reasons beyond her fuckability when that was all she was told mattered the last few years. At least, that any straight or bisexual man would so it's why she'd safely assumed Angeal was gay. If her main appeal wasn't applicable, then it made sense to find the other parts of her enjoyable since there was no choice. But when there was and they didn't go for the immediate draw of how hot she was, it just felt like a failure on her part after being conditioned to dump all her worth into the success rate of seduction.

"Sorry, I'm trying to make sense. It was just... a lot take in, suddenly."

She would understand that sentiment, at least. She has - and probably still will - face much more frightening than brains with legs. The woman didn't have to like it though and could be grateful someone else swooped in to help.

"Oh, right- That place with all the deadly creations, right?" Well, maybe 'deadly' is a bit harsh. "Or the more... rambunctious ones." It honestly made her think of her own world. Not all demons were bad, but they did have their nature to follow. No one condemned predators in nature for hunting prey; it was only when they were the prey that things became uncomfortable.

Ah, well.

"I was trying to avoid having to kill one of these things if I could, but I know they're probably better off taken care of." The pacifist in her though isn't sure even if it's a 'mercy' killing.

"It would not be incorrect to call them deadly. If only in potential."

Though in fairness some of Pandaemonium's creatures are more immediately volatile than others. Even if that particular distinction is not something that he wants to get into when they are already handling a very different dangerous creature. And one that Lahabrea certainly does not intend to let at either of them.

"Nor do I wish to see these remain here. But should you prefer to avoid such deeds I will not force you."

His hands are already stained, and with something far worse than the blood of a dangerous creature. But he says nothing of that. Instead, the chains dissipate... and then flicker of a moment later a stronger blast of fire engulfs the already-weak intellect devourer. An immolating pyre that sees the job done as neatly as any weapon might have.

Popp comes back to himself with a yelp, wheezing in great gulps of air that his body hasn't actually been deprived of. Ohh, that was a lot to take in. On one hand it's nice to know he's not the only one who has had to deal with dark lord sorts of people before, on the other... that woman, Marcille, she was really scared, and wasn't even fighting back, not until she thought she was going to die! She didn't seem evil at all, while Mithrun came off as a huge asshole, but also the massive lion demon didn't exactly seem like it had heroic motives in protecting the woman! Also adding to his confusion are the post-memory headache, which he is getting a little too used to, and also all the pointed ears on most of those people. What was Mithrun doing hanging out with a bunch of scrawny Darklings... or elves, possibly, apparently they are similar?

He can fix one problem his head is having with a painkilling nectar lozenge, but not any of the others. He's fretting!

"Mithrun... you're always really intense, but you're not... evil, right?"

Siiigh. This isn't really a fair question to ask someone unconscious. Even if he is, what's Popp going to do about it? Not drag him back to safety? That'd be pretty awful itself! They're on the same side right now, even if the guy's got some sort of sinister past. People can change! Step one, get him out of the snow. He's carried heavier people than this, although that won't stop him grumbling as he flops Mithrun's arm over his shoulder and heaves him upright. Ow, ow... Let's do the other shoulder, actually, the one without a branch through it.

"You've had a lot of practice being a pain in the neck, huh?"

He's not sure about that blue-eyed man, either! Sometimes you've got to be harsh with your friends for their own sake, but... Popp considers some of the things he said in the dungeons in Teran, and Maam taking Dai out with a blow to the skull in Papnica, and just about everything Matoriv has ever done to and for him... Yeah, never mind. Mithrun's weirdly good at making friends for someone with his personality. That's why they're going to the bakery.

Mithrun stays limp for a good bit of the walk back, the dead weight of his tail dragging in the snow behind them. Hopefully, Molik's icy influence will help to mitigate any potential frostbite.

The first sign when he does wake up is a somewhat deeper, consciously strained breath and a shift of the arm over Popp's shoulder. It's probably fortunate that he doesn't try to pull away - no reason to, at the moment. The second sign is a croaked question: "The Devourer?"

"It's a blessing from the guy who rules the underworld, so it's not exactly common. It feels unfair on top of how strong he actually is... or was, I hope."

He laughs nervously. He doesn't like to think of himself as paranoid, but also, being more worried about this sort of thing would have saved him a stabbing.

"Plain toughness is no joke either, though! You can usually get something like that by aiming into the mouth, but if it's already coming right at you with its mouth open, you really have to be able to handle things in one hit right away, or else... chk!"

If it's not something he's emotionally invested in, though, it might as well be talking shop. Popp talks with a lot of demonstrative hand gestures when the subject is how one might blow up a dragon at point blank range, or what might happen to your head if you do not.

Frankly, nothing but respect for a prey animal willing to try and break someone's nose even with claws around its body. Ignis thinks it's rather admirable, truth be told.

Still, even with that bit of excitable energy, it's still clear that there's something wrong with one of its front legs. It's not clearly broken or anything, no bones poking out or it bent in an uncomfortable angle, but the rabbit does seem to be holding it closer to its body than the other legs.

That's not the only thing, either. While some of it is obscured from where Ignis's claws have curled around it, it is possible to see there is a sort of tackiness to its fur on one side. It isn't just water, either. Daring to touch it will reveal an almost sort of stickiness that's frozen over due to the temperatures. Not blood, but certainly something...

"There are some that derive their danger not by tooth or claw but by intelligence and ability to hide."

True, it is but a portion of those creature interred within Pandaemonium. But it is not all of them, either.

"However, Pandaemonium is a space that is built to make containment of such creatures easier. Even should they escape from where they are being held. Not so here."

But still perhaps there are some things that might be of use.

Popp winces, his voice cracking a little out of sympathy.

"Oh, that's really bad. I've never even thought about how bad he'd have been if Mom wasn't around. She was the only person he'd listen to during one of his moods."

As much as he does miss his mom, He's not sure if even she could save him if he went back now. Jenk's had quite some time to stew over his ungrateful son. He probably would not literally kill him? Probably. Popp does not even like to gamble normally, let alone with his life.

"I left when I was thirteen, but I wasn't really on my own. I caught up to Master Avan right out of town, after all."

He scratches the back of his neck. How badly is he willing to embarrass himself in front of Rosie...

"At the time, I wasn't second guessing my luck, I was just so happy to be away from my stupid hometown and learning magic and doing well enough at it to get praised. I felt the world light up every time he'd smile at me. He scolded me pretty often, too, but not like, you know. He was nice about it."

Pretty badly, honestly! He's not going to talk about Avan changing his life while trying to suppress any of the raw fondness he feels about him, what Rosie makes of that is up to her! He grumbles a little when he talks about being scolded, but in comparison to the bitter way he talks about his father, it's flavored with an embarrassed sort of affection.

Truly, to be known is a rather troublesome thing, and Gladio gets a somewhat flat look before Ignis turns his head away with a small sigh. "Really, if you already knew that, you could have simply hushed." After all, of course he wants to try and help Noctis a little bit. To let him delve into one of the things he loves to do the most. To encourage that.

But must it really be pointed out so obviously.

Not because Ignis is embarrassed by how much he adores Noctis and will do whatever he can for him, but because he ~~knows~~ is still running off of some old habits born from when Noctis was at his most prickly. Being known so well sometimes seemed to bother him, back then... and despite how much Noctis has grown considerably, well. Sometimes Ignis, at this age, cannot help but err on the side of caution. On being a little more hush-hush when he's trying to do his prince a favor, or some measure of kindness. Mostly during times like this, when the stakes feel a little heavier than normal, and he wants to not mess up.

He'll get better in time; certainly he got better by the time Gladio is from.

A time that will perhaps be relevant in short order.

Because there's still a lot for work to be done on the house, and Ignis is already turning away to reach for something else left behind from their work. Trivial, mundane. Nothing special.

Nothing special save for that is when the Intellect Devourer decides to make its move.

Needless to say, this isn't the most ideal situation for such a creature... but perhaps it is all it can do right now. Perhaps it is desperate. Starving. Ultimately, no one can really speak with such a creation.

Ignis can't. All Ignis can do is turn when he hears a noise, and finds a Devourer leaping at his husbands neck, tacked on tentacles going straight for his throat and a haze of spores already gathered thick around it. All he can do, in that one second, is feel how his heart freezes.

But only for that one second.

Then Ignis is moving into action immediately, a long nail grasped in his hand and his feet launching himself from where he is. "Gladio-!"

Certainly, Ignis knows that much as well. While his own personal experience may be severely lacking for now, he's done enough research on various beasts and daemons outside of the Wall to know that their tricks can be many. Just nothing quite like this.

"Indeed... Whatever containment was used for these creatures initially, it obviously couldn't survive a crash, while too many of them did."

With even just one being too many.

"What would you do, in the case of something such as this escaping?"

Really now. Much like with Prompto, Popp is really too easy to see through. Ignis doesn't let his amusement show blatantly, however, simply pauses and rolls the ball around in his hand.

"Well... If you insist. I suppose Prompto might like it himself, but it's far easier for me the less I have to carry back home in this weather."

With that said, he tosses the ball over to Popp. He's not intending to just, nail him in the face, but, well. That's something that partially relies on Popp. "Although I wouldn't say this is just for children. Where you're from, does it not have the idea of sports?"

They're walking and not flying because Popp's very aware that he needs to calm down but also because now he's thinking about magic overuse and is perhaps overcompensating...

"I killed it as fast I could. It, uh, blasted your memories out all over the place, though, sorry about that."

His voice starts off light. He's pretty business casual about fighting to the death if he can't see any gray areas, after all. But...

"Did you... ever kill that dungeon lord, you called her? Marcille?"

Even with time to think about what he's going to say, Popp is not a subtle person. He's worried, all right, he doesn't want to spend any more time looking at Mithrun's face and wondering if he's ever beheaded an unarmed woman. Maybe she was more armed and dressed in some sort of spiky black evil sorceress outfit by the time he caught up...?

It's dead. Alright. That's the part that matters - though, the reminder that its death came with an outpouring of some memory or other of Mithrun's raises the question of which one. Some of that, he's pretty sure Popp shouldn't be seeing.

At least he gets his answer pretty quickly, and it is... not as bad of one as it could have been, sounds like. At least there's that. Mithrun exhales - hard to say if he relaxes at all, seeing as how he's already hanging limply over Popp's shoulder. His muscles are just... not really listening to him.

"No. I didn't."

...Popp isn't fully wrong about Marcille's state next time he saw her, though.

How much of that floppiness is brain-related and how much is lingering dragon poison and how much of it is Mithrun having the exact same problem he had in his memory... Popp knows what he would prefer it to be.

And at least he's not carrying a murderer through the snow! Or at least not a murderer of one very specific person who maybe should die in an honorable battle at worst? The demon is also concerning.

"Is she... um, is it going to be a hard fight? She didn't seem that aggressive."

BONK. Ignis nails Popp right in the face.

He looks very long suffering, in addition to both long and suffering. At least the ball is within range now!

"Like... martial arts and racing and that kind of thing?"

Don't... don't worry about how many people Mithrun may or may not have killed prior to ever meeting that one woman, Popp. It's fine.

"...It isn't a matter of 'going to be'." He would shrug, if he could. "She got... more aggressive, rather quickly. I lost."

The feeling is entirely mutual. That the memories weren't of violence and suffering was also a benefit for the both of them.

"As am I. If you were to relive these memories, as I assume you did, one involving the making of stew is far more preferable than another option. Was the transference mutual?"

Did something of his own leak through? He had not been caught that he was aware of, but he had to know...

"That is how I am known, yes," the distance between them is closed with an easy stride. He nods at the introduction, and fixes the boy with an easy smile. "It is good to formally meet you at last, then, though I feel as if I know you well. Byleth speaks of you, often, and with the utmost fondness."

The words are spoken truthfully. And so are the next, though Elidibus has far more of an advantage over Dimitri in exactly how true they are.

"It gladdens me that you are here. I would not want Byleth to be alone, worlds away from others who care for him as you do." His eyes narrow as he casts his gaze out to where the Devourer had just been, protectiveness to the point of violence in the bright blue. But that flicker behind his eyes fades when he turns back again to Dimitri. "Particularly when things are not as safe as one would wish them to be."

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Page 13 of 27

EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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big spoilers of course, also violence/body horror

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cw: reference to attempted filicide

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