LogFAQs > #907075527

At the same time her luck had finally cashed in at the worst possible time. The railing broke and the weight of the enemy began to buckle beneath those unsteady tripod limbs. She saw faces inside of it, and almost found herself growing a sense of pity for the monster. Had it asked to be turned into such a thing? Surely not.

Above and beyond that, however, was the cat-hooded man clutched in its grip. If the monster fell from such a height there was chance that Leone would also suffer a painful end when that fall concluded. Sucking in a deep breath, a breath of lunacy, a single moment to gather her composure, Fakeru realized she was about to do something stupid again. She was going to attempt something heroic, and save that monster so that she could save Leone.

Fah turned her weight in the air, knowing Kidd would never get here in time to assist her, and pushed with the tip of the iron rod. Was it something a heroic, selfless, main character of some adventure novel might do? And would they succeed at it? The end of the weight served as a nice brace to push back against the enemy. This temporary balance allowed it the time needed to gather its footing and not tumble off of the railing and onto the ground below.

Then, thanklessly, the death grip of the enemy closed in on the iron rod and it bent the weapon even from the mere act of seizing the rod. Fakeru felt herself pulled forward with a yanking force and then stars entered her eyes as the secondary, or tertiary, limb of the enemy swung up to meet her as she was pulled down. Yes, Fah had known all along that she wouldn't be repaid kindly for her services.

But Gods Above and Below, didn't it hurt?

A stream of blood shot out of her nose as she was sent sailing and twirling away through the air. This was likely only made possible, and certainly exaggerated, by the weightless quality of her body. All she could see was a black void which had crept in from the edges of her vision and was only beginning to retreat. Then, face down, she began to fall back down to the ground below. A shower of sparkles raining from above in her wake.

Then, after those, droplets of her blood.

Below she could see Enoch moving into position to attack. With his knife he could barely damage the enemy but he did a fine job of keeping it distracted. He had the agility and the tenacity to annoy it and still manage to duck away from any strike that it threw.

The shadows seemed to dance around the two combatants. It gave the odd impression that both Enoch and the monster were stationary and only the light was bending around them. But at the edge of the melee a timid and soft looking man had moved forward. The weapon in his hands felt heavy and useless. Instead, he was thinking of another weapon he had been given. Owen was thinking of something special that had been entrusted, at the end, only to him.

He saw Tristan's youth... the failed squire who would never become a knight. A boy who learned to favor tales of pirates and bandits turned into heroes. Local legends that were morally gray and represented his own path in life. Well, the one he yearned for most; The ability to rise from the dirt and stand there, making a difference in the world. It felt far more obtainable than the made up fantasy of a knight in shining armor. Tristan had always known that the main characters from those story books weren't real. Real life didn't have such fanciful things. Yet, in the end, he had died without ever realizing his own dream. So where had that left him?

Here. Now. In that secret and small place in Owen's mind, and his heart. The piece of Captain Punch that lived on within Owen. It also contained the piece of Tristan that Punch had kept for himself. And Owen was the only one left to carry on their dreams. If he fell here then it would mean there would be no one to pass on his power to.

"Does it have a brain?" He was thinking to himself. His antennae were twitching.
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~* Now I only see your dull imposter ~*
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