Duty Session 454: The Phantom Colosseum

"Shouldn't you... you know, improve it?"

"What?"

"That."

Uta's figner points at the hastily put together 'dock', a generous term for a plank of wood and two large logs that have been shoved into the ground.

"Why should we?", asks the ship captain.

"We've been leaving for the atoll for months by now. A steady flow of adventurers. There clearly is a potential clientele here. The infrastructure needs to be improved. Goods and services should be provided. Snacks. Maps. Talismans. I can see a booming economy picking up here. Once we free the Colosseum, it's going to be even bigger."

"No, I mean, why should -we-? We just run the boat. We normally don't do this route. We only freelance it for the Hunter's guild."

"Oh."

"But if you think you can do it, hey, more power to you. Are you trained in the Mercantile arts?"

"Uh... no," admits Uta, fidgeting her fingers. "I suppose I shouldn't take this endeavour up myself then. If Mercantile works anything like Cooking, the first time I try to set up a side hustle, my coin pouch is going to burst into pixels."

Innovation and improvement are the lifeblood of a crafter! They are not content with the status quo no more than a fighter is ok with hitting their own martial plateau. "These docks are taking and atoll on our morale," Haru offers, no longer in a Strange Mood. Still Strange. He gives a healthy stomp on one of the large logs there. "Its not even board-ing. So our pre-boarding routeen is going to have us in this low energy lull," he observes, envisioning a world with a better dock. A better world. A world that has a shaved ice stand right about there. He has those thumb-and-index finger artistic composition things going on with his hands. "If only we knew someone with construction and a passion for improving our daily lives."

Goldenblade is, meanwhile, surveying the area, planning the location of pilings and piers, and figuring how much timber is requred. She's got something like a monocle that descends on an arm from her helmet, and with a few hand gestures that look like she's clicking things on a menu, the ground is starting to grade itself, that is, to flatten. The low bits rise up and the higher bits flatten out. Uta has seen Goldenblade using her relic before, digging the small pool in the Slime Lab, but this is probably closer to the intended purpose: evening out the ground in preparation for serious construction.

Uta may risk her purse on a side hustle, but Goldenblade is entirely in her element with construction. She's been in the field for fifty years after all, there's really nothing new here apart from the materials and the lack of backhoes, bulldozers, and steam rollers. Hrm, maybe that could be her next project!

    "I mean I thought everyone wanted a bigger dock." Fuka notes absently. "I guess size isn't everything!" she claims, instead happily imagining shaved ice, snacks, maps, talismans, fun festival activities, and Uta's coin pouch exploding. Not necessarily in that order.

    "Y'know, it seems none of us are trained in merchant type stuff. We need to get Shiba here sometime!" she observes. "You know, booming economy?" she states, waggling eyebrows and giving a significant boom gesture with fingertips. Not that that has anything to do with Shiruba, but Fuka's brain isn't so much derailed as it is a complete yet complex weave of tracks going in all directions, and no one knows where the fun train might depart the rails.

Fortunately, Uta is too distracted by goldenblade's amazing terraforming relic to catch Fuka's comments about sizes. Or Haru's puns. Both are so atroucious that they would probably deal HP damage.

"I am surprised we don't get more Mercantile projects going in general, myself," she finally remarks, apparently having gotten that particular part of the conversation. "It's a surprisingly underrepresented aspect of activity."

A mostly unremarkable journey marked by sudden, beautiful singing. On a sandbar nearby, the song of several sirens singing in chorus can be heard, attempting to draw in the party! While in theory they could continue to just move past without too much worries, it becomes much more difficult when the young adventurer who had been helming the boat suddenly finds themselves drawn in! The party will have to deal with these sirens, and fast, or they'll be forced to swim to the Phantom Atoll instead of traveling by boat!

Goldenblade boards the ship, she's done this before, and will stand by the gunwhale looking out into the distance in anticipation. She knows how this part goes, apparently with the Palace Landers sailing all around, there's been no one detailed off to exterminate this island of sirens. Or maybe some ecological types have decided they're more endangered than the sailors they lure to their deaths, and have marked them as protected. Typical government reaction, nowadays, she sighs. She's going to have to endanger some more, she expects.

When the ship approaches and the singing starts, she sighs. "Okay, here they come," she says, drawing her swords, and it's ass-kicking time. Or at least fileting time, carving up the sirens with swift and deliberate swordstrokes. Mercy is not in it, apart from the mercy of a swift end. She's not sympathetic to monsters. Pixels go everywhere as she carves her way though the sirens trying to board and capture the sailors.

Haru points with his finger in the 'to make a point' pointing to Fuka. "A quality dock would bring more enjoyment. Have to know where to place it. The material has to be of solid, hard stock to support all of the activities that would act jointly alongside it." A fist clenches, "We need a dock for the ages. A dock that can endure. And for that, we need a dock expert to make a booming economy explode into the scene like BAM." Absently his one blue eye looks to Goldenblade and then back to Fuka. Dock expertise. He waggles his eyebrows back to Fuka, responding in Waggle-Code as a good sea breeze gives his white hair that solid beachside breeze animation to it. "What do you think, Uta? Big Booming Dock? Quality Masterdock? I'm thinking Uta likes big docks, so we may have a conflict of ideas."

Dock bit aside, Haru does get on the boat. "Oh do we get to see the Sirens today?" Haru asks, having done this voyage a few times already. He isn't all that worried about getting murdered by the fish people. He should be, but he isnt. Have you HEARD that sound? Free concert. Haru does the noodle arm dance, taking the time to enjoy the roadtrip music on the boat. Notably it doesn't help that it IS an actual Song-based enchantment so he keeps dancing closer and closer to the edge without realizing it. Part of losing control is, well, losing control! Just so long as he doesn't go overboard. And for that he has the trust of his party. "Music. Enchantment. Science. Unz unz unz." Waving them around like he just dont care. It was a long project time, man wants to let loose. He just needs to not be letting lose while dancing on the railing of the ship. At least he has good agility up there.

    "Now I like a big dock as much as any girl." claims Fuka with definitely not a straight-laced serious expression. "But I don't have any experience in ... construction. So I'll have to leave that to the experts!" she adds mischeviously. She doesn't outright say who those experts might be. Let anyone who feels the need to comment doom themselves.

    As the ship approaches siren territory, Fuka intends to break out her own discordant song as is typical when she meets such beings. It happens often enough; here, the expedition to the palace lands, and the historical raid on an ancient palace besides. But Haru's behaviour changes that. "H, no!" she cries out, and grabs his outfit right at the back of his collar, firmly anchoring him so he can noodle all he likes but can't dive out to go siren-chasing. She's okay with having fun, but losing control is bad. Well, not THAT bad, but in this case it is! "Listen to our Songbird instead of those harpies!" she insists. "And if you're still insisting on music, enchantment and science later we can go off and experiment together! Loudly and rhythmically!" she says encouragingly. Oh my.

One might wonder if the innuendo is enough to make a sailor blush. Well, guess what there is an abundance of around here? That's right! Sailors! And judging by the guffaws coming from them, there is none of that blushing nonsense from them.

But fear not, for our beloved Uta, nice as she usually is, blushes deep enough to compensate for the whole crew, uttering incomprehensible, choked, stuttering vocalizations while her eyes twitch. Alternately.

It appears she'd rather disappear at this point.

When (if) she gets enough time to calm down (it takes some of time)

When the sirens appear, though, Uta seems to forget about everything. "Ooooh, yes! I gotta learn how to do this!", she exclaims. The Phonograph, already in place and wound up, is activated. On top of that, pen firmly clenched in one hand, she jots down the melody coming their way on some sheet music, with some runic markings to possibly denote magical infusions into the melody and/or harmony. She does remember to counteract the melodic spell with a countersong of her own, but... barely. She seems too engrossed in listening and learning.

Until, that is, Haru seems to be in actual danger, after the briefest moment of confusion and hesitation, her note-taking takes the back-seat, and she goes full-on into counter-song mode.

The party makes land on the Phantom Atoll, the captain of the ship they came in turning around to return back to the relative safety of the base camp. Making their way towards the colosseum, they find a sprawling town around the main entrance of the colosseum that is almost... /too/ quiet. Not even the sounds of native wildlife are audible. Seeing no other obvious entrance into the colosseum short of swimming, however, the party opts to continue through the town. About halfway through the town, the owners of the island make themselves known, as an ambush is sprung! From all sides, Sahuagin appear and begin to attack the party with spears and magic! There's enough that the party's best option is to break through the ring surrounding them and run for a more strategic area to fight them off, or just make a break for the massive bridge that leads to the Colosseum entrance.

Goldenblade is probably the game-wide construction expert, acknowledged by most of the playerbase. Scale has one, but she's not around or active much, that she knows, of. And she's not sure if NWA has a builder at all? Goldenblade's work on Eas, and on the road leading there, are quite noteworthy, though. She does laugh when Fuka says she likes big docks, though. To Haru, she says, "Hear thar? Hope you're up to the task."

She's pleased when we manage to fight off the sirens and sail into the dock. Heading into the town on the apparently empty island, she frowns as the ambush is sprung and sahaugin leap out to attack. They have no paws. Never the less, Goldenblade's golden blades come out once again, and she carves her way throuh the ambush, making a push for the bridge up ahead, blade spending more time blocking and parrying then stabbing because of the press of enemies, but a well-place thrust at the right time cuts down an enemy in the right place, and Goldenblade can advance into the press, allowing a slow, bloody progress.

Haru remains on the tight leash that is Fuka's arm while he dances about. "We should study that song," he observes as Uta is already ahead of him in recording it. He hops off of the ledge and gives the encouraging Sylph a squeeze against her hips and all that armor between. "Maybe replay it in less perilous times." Waggle. Haru needs little encouragement to have a good time. The waggling turns to Goldenblade, "I may have an unusual way of getting results, but I get results." Waggle.

The earlier statement may be under question when they reach the town. Haru is a little slower than usual as he kicks back to dodge a trident toss but only to dodge right into the telegraphed attack of another one. "Part of the plan," he admits, taking the item out of his torso. "So we can study it for later. Yes. Solid quality." The trident pixelates since it was a generic ranged attack. "Solid quality Pixel Trident. Known to the locals of the region as the trident of..." another trident hits him. He gets the idea as he progresses forward, giving that trident to Fuka as a (very short lived) present. "M'lady, my spear." Pixelated. Can't take the squishy Wave Arts user anywhere.

    Even Fuka blushes, a little, at Haru's innuendo. Not so much innuendo as explicitly suggestive... Fuka's a bit of a tease and flirt at times, but has a certain sense of time and place and this is neither. Not that she minds, but she ends up laughing off Haru's actions.

    At least until spears start to fly! The little Sylph curses, trying to weave up a defense against the projectiles. She takes a spear, but isn't too badly off due to her armor. It messes with her spellcasting though, and more attacks break through. She shrieks, more in annoyance than in pain, only to continue snickering at Haru's innuendo. "Put that away! I'll get distracted by how long and pointy it is!" she yells out. Probably freaking out Uta in the process.

Goldenblade's blades are up to the task. Haru's dodging skills... not as much.

Uta shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose at Haru's pretending of having done all that on purpose. Not even her is falling for it. Disapproval.

What she does, instead, is inhale, to launch her trademark sonic shockwave at the Shaughin, and-

The innuendo! The blushing! The distraction!

And the trident to the diaphraghm.

She doubles over, as the trident pixelates, and after a second or two of clenching herself, she flops over to one side.

"...I did that on purpose...", she wheezes.

Disapproval.

The party finds themselves into the halls of the Colosseum. While you would think that it would be relatively simple to get around, there's a lot of damage to the building, making traveling through the Colosseum more like a crazy puzzle with angry fishmen around every bend. After what felt like hours of wandering (It was more like maybe ten minutes but it all looked the same), they find their way into a room with stairs downwards into strangely fresh water. The walls around are inscribed with runes and etched with intricate designs all the way to the bottom of the stairway. The pathway is entirely submerged and the party finds itself able to breathe water as it explores, though the party still has to swim. Rather suddenly, a current begins to drag the party through the corridors wildly. They're going to have to try to swim to get back into the corridors of the Colosseum, as their oxygen meter begins to rapidly deplete!

Haru recalls this place! Mostly because once you run into an area that has a trap mechanic, you tend to remember it next time. Not that it always matters. Knowing a trainwreck of water will hit you doesnt always mean you can do something about it.

"Okay okay, this is one of the serious places," Haru acknowledges. It isn't that he can't be serious, it is that he would rather have fun. Time and a place. "So if I remember this one correctly there are these runes," as his hand runs across the wall. He wades into the water a little bit, "fresher water. But the area is still rigged to eject us like a well designed defense system." A finger points down the corridor. "And it should be happening any minute..." the Enchanter says as the word 'now' is replaced by the rush of water.

Even though Haru did prepare Water Wave Artes to work with the direction of flow, his body gets bounced around enough in the current that the casting does not outpace the natural current. It is a wild ride if not for the whole oxygen bar they have to deal with now. A gamer's nightmare: a ticking bar that goes down until you instantly perish or start chipping away your health.

"Glub Glub." The benefit of psuedo drowning is that you don't get puns. Maybe fish puns when its all done.

Goldenblade grimaces as Haru admits to an unusual style of getting results. She admits, "I'd never thought that getting stabbed over and over was a good plan, but you seem to be implementing that plan superbly. I can't speak for that plan's effectiveness, though." The pain dampers are the worst part of this game, she feels. People tend to disregard or downplay getting hurt because it doesn't hurt that much. She's smashed her share of fingers with careless bricklaying, she's learned to pay attention. She's also fast as blazes, literally, and seems to have eyes in the back of her head - the way she reacts to the chaotic melee with deadly poise implies full awareness of things happening directly behind her.

Having finally dissuaded the sahaugin from their attack, the party presses forward and ... mazeward? She will follow Uta at this point, since she's the expert on mysteries, but that leads down into the water. "Gah, now I remember this. It's a bumpy ride," she says, and will take a deep breath and step down into the water. The chain mail she's wearing provides a bit of inertial in the strong currents, though, and gives her a bit of extra control, which she uses to avoid the worst of the bouncing off of rocks.

    "Did I mention I hate sirens? Because what I really hate is drowning!" Fuka yells loudly as they're swept away by the current. It comes out as a lot of bubbles though as it's rather hard to talk underwater. Sure they could breathe the strange still liquid, but it's another matter entirely when that lures them in and then does a weird bait-and-switch as the current sweeps through!

    Now, this kind of sucks for Fuka. She's armored, and she's not all that great at water or swimming. And she just spent plenty of her air meter attempting to scream out complaints. This is a bad combination, so by the time they bump up against a ship's hulk she's in desperate condition and starting to lose health.

"No, no... in hindsight, getting stabbed was not that good a plan, no..." Uta concedes to Goldenblade, finger on her lips gaze lost in the distance.

"On the other hand, the Sirens' skills are -awesome-. Haven't you ever thought how amazing it would be if we could replicate their entrancing properties? Think about it. You could... like..." Silence. She thinks. "...send a patient in a sort of coma and make them unable to feel pain. You could possibly navigate through opponents without exerting violence. So many possibilities!" She truns to Fuka. "Have I mentioned I'm working on exactly that? Being able to sing just like a Siren, with similar effects?"

"Runes..." Uta nods in acknowledgment to Haru. "Fresh water... eject us..." Uta nods again at Haru. "Any minut- wait! Did you say-"

SLAM! The impact of the wall of water sends Uta reeling, sending her to bounce along. Lots of flailing later, after she manages to resume a semblange of not spinning around uncontrollably, "Glub glub..." she nods in agreement to Haru.

The current sweeps the party away, eventually slamming them against the deck of a massive sunken ship. Looking at their oxygen bars and how far they are from the Colosseum, at this point, the only option the party has is to lick their wounds and attempt to get out of here with their lives and swim desperately to find the closest area where they can find air. Possibly a nearby cave, or even the boat itself could grant them the small boost to their breath bar that could let them get out of here and back to their boat.

Goldenblade manages to navigate the torrent, and while she takes damage from her breath meter running down, it's not as bad as it could be. But it looks like we're off course and not getting back any time soon. "Well, crap," she grumbles. On the other hand, she can supplement her breath bar, and she pulls a small flask from her belt pouch. Only one other player has thought this was a good thing, but she makes good use, sucking down fresh air. She gets a few HP back on top of the fresh air, and it seems like she's good to make another full effort.

Haru would respond to the conversation in an intelligent, perhaps even inspirational fashion. "Glub glub." The little air bubbles escape his lips and go to a language that no known translator has been able to track: Drownese. All the conversation comes from his noodly arms, which do what they do in the rather impressive motion of swimming. Impressive? No. They dont do well for fast movement because the lack of asosciated skills. It is like watching a majestic freeform in tar. "Glub," the Artificer agrees with Goldenblade. Oh crap indeed. One thing he does not do is panic. "Glub?" he motions towards the nearby object of rescue. Save us, oh glorious non-drowning object.

    Desperate for breath and scrambling, Fuka attempts to find a breathing space to allow her to recover. This isn't particularly effective. Hopefully one of the better swimmers can pull her to a safe place, or can heal her from the damage caused. Unfortunately the physical activity she engages in, darting around for an emergency breath stop, only hastens her end. Glub glub indeed!

"Glub," Uta replies, apparently fluent in Drownese herself. Scripture skillz FTW? "Glub," she acknowledges Fuka, with a nod, and then does likewise to Haru: "Glub.", before she begins to swim in the same direction as him, towards the sunken ship, in the hope that it will provide respiratory relief.

The party opts to try the ship to see if there's any air inside of it. With luck, they manage to find their way to a locked and sealed doorway. They can see through a porthole that there is probably air inside of the room, now they just have to get /in/ to the door. Perhaps if someone was skilled with a lockpick, or a strong enough strike could break the lock on the metal door to get inside. If they can't get in quickly, they're going to have to just swim frantically for the surface, as their oxygen meters and MP bars tick lower and lower.

Goldenblade has maintained a bit of situational awareness along with her own air supply, and will swim over to Fuka, passing her the oxygen bottle, for he remainder of air that it contains. She swims toward the refuge, but is lost from sight in the water. Which isn't as murky as all that. But as the others start shoving on the door, they get a bit of unexpected help. It's substantially easier to force when the lock is no longer locked.

Haru offers a "Glub" of agreement to Uta's glubbing. Its easier to talk when you dont need to use words. Communication is a wondeful thing like that. Amusingly enough, Haru is not going directly for the door. He place a hand on his monocle and does a quick assessment of the wall weak points. Upon finding one he conjures up an Air Wave Arte into his hand, creating a small pocket the size of a basketball around it. The hand is pressed against the wall, noticing the crack and pushing through with a bit of air pressure. This wouldn't matter much if he didn't also summon out a sparkling Air sprite on the other side. His body crackles as he looks back to the group working on the door, tipping a wave with a notable "Glub!" before his body ZAPS to the other side, replaced by the small sparkly fae sprite that zips through the hole while there is still an air pocket there. Pop! Its gone.

Haru is on the other side of the door, helping with the unlocking of it against the pressure of breaking it down. There is a latch or two that doesn't have a tumbler, sliding it off around the same time the tumblers slide into place and he is right in the middle of a 'forced collision' if anyone is forcing their way in after he opens it.

    Pulled in to the cabin and saved and energized with a dose of oxygen, Fuka peers at the door blocking their way. AIR, surely the sealed door will have air right? Gritting her teeth, she pulls out a long jagged sword and RAMS it into the lock, wrenching and prying until the lock gives way.

    The sweeping rush of water smashes her into Haru, then draws them all up and into the previously-sealed room, and Fuka gasps for air. "Ew." she exclaims, coughing and wheezing. It's life-giving though, and gives her the strength to go on. Maybe she's clinging to Haru a little too right now, half drowned and miserable and finding the whole situation more than a little unpleasant. She's not normally all that clingy, and if they're going to embrace this isn't exactly an ideal place and time.

    On the other hand, found ring. And success! And escape! "I am so going to burn something down so we can dry off properly." she grumbles.

Uta... well, considering how much work Goldenblade, Fuka and Haru have put in the whole ordeal of breaking the locks, has not much left to do than helping operate the heavy door, opening and keeping it open on the way in, and closning (and ensuring it stays closed and sealed) after everyone's gotten in.

After leaning against the ship's hull and panting some, in agreement with Fukaziroh that some way of blowing off steam is needed (sadly, no burning things for Uta -- no Fire concept), Uta leads the team up a stairwell, in room full of stale air that smells of decay and death. The skeletal remains of a humanoid figure sits in the captain's chair, the remains of black clothing and a pirate's hat on its body. It looks almost as if it could wake up at any moment, but it doesn't. It is nothing but the remains of a captain who went down with his ship as is a captain's duty. Regardless, the stale air, even if unpleasant, is enough for the party to refill their oxygen meters. As they rest, recover, and explore their surroundings, they find a small chest full of jewelry and the rotten remains of what was probably once a map, but is illegible now.

Haru is the more clingy of the two and less durable so he is doubly surprised when he gets a water propelled Fuka bullet atop of him. "Were you just dying to see me," the man coughs from below. "Did I -cough- take your breath away?" he asks having had a few of these waiting in the glub-o-sphere earlier for when they got out of that mess. A hand brushes away some of the wet hair from Fuka's face sweetly before getting a wild grin and conjuring up a mixture of Fire and Air Wave Artes to do a New World style blow dryer for all her hair. "Hah! You want to do Fire and I'm doing Air. How the tides have turned. Well, we always were rather hot." A mock gasp at the ring, as he finds one of his own. "A place that has a romantic rose and a fancy ring? Maybe we can turn this into a Confession Colesseum as well as a battle one when its all done. Make it the halftime show."

Goldenblade will join the others once the acquisition of air is secured, and though it's kind of foul, it's breathable. Drying off is an important matter for her mail shirt and leggings, but that can be accomplished by a full-body menu wash-n-dry when we're not someplace where the stink will get on us. Fuka and Haru and rings draw a smirk, and she advises them both, "Get a room, you two." She tucks a ring in her own inventory, that could be useful at some point. But for now, there's planning to be done.

    Not that Fuka has anything against clinging, in a proper time and place. "Mmm, I think it was the water." she concludes, though she does offer a slight grin at the playful punnery. "Not that I don't appreciate you drying me off, but we still have to swim to get out of here don't we?" she points out. "AND get a room!" she adds playfully as Goldenblade makes her suggestion.

"You mean I have to do this again," Haru asks in shock, putting a hand to his chest. "Unacceptable," he mocks at the idea. "We will simply have to compensate this salon style treatment with a top class room." Which may just be a room on the second floor that has fifty percent more candles. He directs his hot hair again at Fuka and the endless hair situation. "Fancy place, though," he notes, taking stock of the surrounding. A token of adventure is a shipwreck full of treasure. Checking that one off of the list.

While Haru and Fuka are doing ... whatever they're doing, in the stale, nasty air, Goldenblade will look for a way up and/or out. The old submariner's trick will have to suffice, she pulls a fairly airtight bag over her head and swims out into the water. The air is bouyant and pulls her upward quickly, and she makes sure to exhale all the way up to avoid the bends. Once on the surface, the bag is waved like a flag until she can hail the captain that dumped us off on the islance, now making a getaway.