Genre Shift
The shattered landscape slowly left them behind as Verchlengorge strode forth from their vacation destination. With education, healing, and even an opportunity for some light heroics, the Elixir Sovereignty had proven itself an ideal stop for the weary trio. The fumes and toxins of the beast would pollute the land for decades, even with the purifying abilities of the polity's young corp of alchemists at work. Wrapped tightly in the Evening Sky, and again in the hand of Verchlengorge, Hunger sneezed. Gisena fussed over him, cooling his brow with a damp towel, unbothered by the lumbering gait of the Armament. The Bleary-eyed hero stared out from his sheltering cocoon only as a single tired eye, and an arm poking between two vast fingers.
Gisena's eyes flashed green, and an idle gesture quieted an astral incursion as she nimbly navigated her way back to the cockpit, to fetch another bowl of soup.
"That's still unnecessary." Hunger grumbled, swiping idly with the Forebearer's blade. Another rift, peaking open while Gisena was occupied, screamed itself shut at the force of Ruin imposed upon it.
The frustrated yet deadly flailing continued until the latest batch of astral horrors was finally depleted. Verchlengorge paid little mind, besides the left shoulder chewing contentedly on a morsel which came too close. Gisena emerged, thermos brandished before her. She picked her way down the arm to Hunger, and resumed her care.
"Say Ah!"
Hunger dutifully but silently opened his mouth, working a bit of a scowl into his expression even in the face of a pretty good chicken noodle mix. While Gisena handled lunch, he noticed her countering another portal.
"I'm stronger than before. Just let them come."
Gisena hummed as she went in for another spoonful. With Hunger properly silenced, she considered the next teleportation attempt. Letrizia turned to orient them as the incoming jaunt alighted on a hill just off their path. Verchlengorge's grip tightened slightly when the portal finally spat forth its charges. It was a motley party of well-equipped mercenary figures. A reptilian-looking humanoid, resplendent in gold and jewels, unarmored and wielding a carved-jade staff came through first, weaving an intricate dance and chanting as it went. A dome of force sprang up around their entry point as the massive pseudo-crocodile worked its spell, although Hunger doubted that the working would resist his own efforts, much less Gisena's. Next through were a matched set of humans or near-humans, with colorful skin and hair, orange and blue respectively. They, too, seemed to be mages, clad in matching robes with a mirrored color-scheme, although less active ones than their large crocodilian ally. The twins gawked at Verchlengorge until they were shoved aside by the last two to exit the portal. A rotund woman in armor reminiscent of what the Elixir's soldiers bore, albeit in much finer repair, and less useful camouflage strode forth. She held her longarm at rest, but kept her eyes glued on Gisena, with an expression of anticipatory glee written across her face.
Accompanying the riflewoman was a more familiar figure, remade. Ber had grown out, rather than up, and the sword on his back now shined with a near-blinding light. The most striking change was not his equipment, more impressive than ever, nor his now-pudgy body, but his serene expression. Waving cheerfully at Hunger and Gisena, he gestured to his alligator abdjurer, who dutifully lowered their barrier.
"We come in peace!" Ber announced. Even his voice had grown, becoming a mirthful bass.
Hunger's arm flexed slightly, and his eye narrowed. Verchlengorge's equipment hummed in anticipation, as Letrizia worked him into greater readiness. Gisena waved to the lizardman, who waved back.
"We brought fish!" Ber produced a fine haul of multicolored specimens, each a respectable catch in its own right, as if from thin-air.
Before Hunger could speak up, Verchlengorge's stomach sounded out in a earth-shaking rumble.
---
Around the fire, eight people and one war-machine congregated, spread out to facilitate their varying sizes and appetites. The large woman, less rotund and more robust than she initially seemed, chatted with Gisena about the maintenance of her armor over a filet of flounder. Gisena seemed for once to be on the back foot, overrun by Ms. Curter's tremendous outflow of volume and content, the stellar marine positively thrilled to find a fellow technophile and escape her luddite party.
Lording over his outdoor kitchen, Kanai worked tirelessly to prepare Ber's piscine bounty. He carefully monitored a monstrous pot of gumbo, occasionally rotated the spit shark, tended to the filet on the grill, and stirred a small fricassee, spoon clutched by his tail. Verchlengorge loomed overhead, and was granted a steady stream of tribute by the lizardman chef. Each of his three maws was kept busy, and even if the morsels were miniscule, the flavor was marvelous.
Letrizia managed an excited conversation with the twins over their recently adopted mastery of space. Peabody, older by three seconds, picked at a bowl of chowder, distracted as much by the duchess' two-fisted attack on her shish kabob as her insights into interdimensional mathematics. Atlas was a bit more intent on their own sashimi, but still put the occasional word in, while guarding their dessert of cod cakes from the pilot's probing skewers.
A bit apart from the festivities, Hunger sat, still swaddled in his star-cloth cloak, gingerly eating a bowl of apocalyptic gumbo. While the spices waged a war on his clogged sinuses, Ber maintained an assault on his ears. The gamer detailed his journey, how he culled the never-ending march of the ants-militant, the vacuous hordes of optimized bugs providing a bounty of experience, which catapulted him to the level cap. Once there, he began to branch out, and seek more ideal companions. It was on one such sidequest that he met Kanai, who introduced Ber to the fishing minigame.
Hunger's spoon stilled, and his attention sharpened.
"You fish?"
Ber's recollection of his trials in idealized bait-schema ended abruptly. He stood, taken aback by Hunger's inquisition, and drew in a breath.
"Hunger, man, I'm the king! The top. I've caught everything there is to catch!" He practically sang, his voice carrying clearly to all present. "I'm the best fisherman alive!"
A clatter of cutlery rang out across the party as Hunger shot to his feet, gumbo forgotten. The boast rang through his ears, and the Forebearer's blade fell aside, abandoned for a more appropriate tool. Rod of Ages in hand, he replied.
"We'll see about that."
---
The gauntlet has been thrown. Ber, gregarious in his perceived superiority, has allowed you to choose the venue:
{ } Atlanta - The Sunken City
The last remnant of a once-great empire, the postdiluvian city of Atlanta still bears some of the might of great Am'Rika which came before. Though its people have lost much in their nation's fall, they have gained something new in the waves.
- Contend with the fish-people of Atlanta as you take to the waves, for a more hands-on fishing experience!
- Ber claims familiarity and even commands some degree of respect among these people. His relic jersey provides him with mid-level nobility among their people, and they will aid him over Hunger in his search for The Big One.
- Though much of old-earth's lore has been lost to Hunger's tribulations, some glimmer yet remains. Perhaps he could seek advantage, to equal or surpass Ber's own claim?
{ } The All-Blue - The Chef's Dream
- The long-sought sea which contains every fish of every ocean. If variety is your prize, this is the grail.
- The contest becomes a speed-fisher's test. Every cast will yield a prize, it's up to you to ensure your haul exceeds Ber's in rarity, quality, and volume.
- Some things were never meant to be caught. Beware that your hook catches on Great Leviathan's scale, or is lost in Charybdis' Maw!
{ } Lethe - A Monument to Pique
- The boundary between the World and the Underworld, Lethe contains many prizes, though few that man would wish to claim.
- Cut from the world by a vengeful blade long ago, Lethe trembles oddly at the Cursebearer's approach. Should such a broken creature still manage to seek vengeance, then it could represent a major hazard!
- As an old friend of death, Hunger can use his Wraith form to freely fish on either side of the great river, and it is no great trial to cross. A decisive advantage over Ber, if you can handle the risks involved.
---
1100 Words, may god have mercy on my soul.
Edit: fixed the brackets so it doesn't confuse things
