HUMBLE & HANDSOME

Only the fake Julius remained, surely the others could take him down without Forde’s help. He’d seen Kris’s magnificent swordplay in action just a couple performances ago, and of course he trusted Ephraim and Ewan with his life. Though he’d been healed, the sharp power of Ephraim’s lance was fresh in his mind, and… 

Forde sits up with a start, remembering how the lighting had coursed up the spear. Forde only had one of those zap tap pins, what pain would the fake Julius cause with three? 

“Kris.” He calls out with only a slight yawn, raising his staff. A shimmering barrier forms around the man, Forde’s glad to see he has a little magic left in him. “It’s uh, future healing. It’ll protect you.” 

Forde casts Ward on Kris Kris is immune to out of combat damage for one round

Satisfied with a job well done, Forde slumps back down. Forget a nap, he needed a full vacation.

“Looks like it’s you and me, good sir. You seem like you’ve got a strong sword arm, so I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you.” Personally, Homer would prefer to stay as far away from that replication as humanly possible.

Thankfully for him, keeping his distance was always an advantage, and he planned to make full use of it. As Homer felt the familiar ebb and flow of magic between his outstretched fingers, he honed in on his target. He had been avoiding eye contact for a while now, but when he finally got a good look—was that bastard smirking?

The light pooling at his fingertips surged and sparked with power, and Homer unleashed the unruly flow directly at the metal being. That would teach it! Or… not? The blast staggered it, for sure, but it was already back on its feet and ready to fire a counterattack.

Homer 12/12HP critically hits Julius 2.0 11.5/17HP with Nosferatu [Roll: 20+4=24, -5+2=-3HP,  JULIUS 2.0 8.5/17HP]

“Too slow!” The dark magic lurched forward, ready to strike, but Homer was faster. His own magic, bright and dazzling, took form and swallowed the threat whole before it could even come close to him.

Julius 2.0 3.5/17HP counters Homer 12/12HP with Copied Loptous. [Roll: 11-6=5, -1.5+2=-0HP Homer 12/12HP]

Homer would have begun his taunting in earnest if his keen eyes had not caught something interesting across the stage. The effort seemed to have tired their enemy, or at least, that was how it looked. Sparks were flying from it, and it seemed somewhat less energetic than before.

  They could take advantage of that. “Tall, blue, and broody! That would be your cue!” Homer pointed frantically at their common foe. Please kill that thing already!

Despite his own stature not measuring up to even a fraction of Mr. Drama’s, the anger bubbling up in the mage’s belly gave him the confidence to point towards the metal creature indignantly. “So you’re the one that masterminded this whole thing! You’re the one responsible for putting us in these messed up plays!” All the insanity they had faced up until this point… It was hard for Ewan to believe why anyone would do such a thing, but it was all this monster’s fault! “Hope you’re ready, because you’re going to pay for this!”

Ewan 10/10HP super appeals using Authority! [Roll 10d3: 2, 3, 3, 2, 1, 1, 3, 3, 1, 2; appeal succeeds!]

It seemed like the audience, which was previously not impressed by his joyful performance, did like it when he was riled up and angry. What a bunch of freaks, they were all just as bad as Drama was, if not worse.

Well whatever, he had no care left for a bunch of faceless weirdos. All of Ewan’s attention was reserved for the monster in front of them at the moment. He promised payback and a true sage does not go back on his word.

Ewan 10/10HP critically hits RIGHT HAND 9/30HP with Seraphim! [Roll: 18+6=24, (-3-0.5)*2+0.5 = -6.5HP RIGHT HAND 2.5/30HP]

Channeling every last drop of magic he could squeeze out of his body, he formed a huge sphere of blessed light and held it up above his head with both arms. It was then that an idea hit him. This was to be their final performance, right? Best then to give it all he got. He shaped the ball of magic into something resembling an animal- a huge, chonky rabbit, to be precise. It stood there, in all its massive glowy glory, ready to be commanded by its creator.

“Chaaaaaarge!” Ewan shouted, pointing at the Mr. Drama’s humongous form. Following the boy’s command the light rabbit slammed into the robot’s arm with immense force, the metal letting out horrible creaking sounds from the amount of pressure exerted. Once the magic rabbit faded the damage dealt could be observed. The robot’s arm was smoking, jolts of electricity escaping as it was left on its last legs.

Perhaps because it was so close to destruction, the arm gathered in its palm a huge blast of electrical energy at a much faster speed than before, firing it at the boy that had just damaged it. Unfortunately Ewan had exhausted himself casting that last spell, making him unable to react in time.

RIGHT HAND 2.5/30HP hits Ewan 10/10HP with Silly Beam. [Roll: 10+4-4 = 10, -2-0.5-1 = -3.5HP] Ewan 6.5/10HP

As lightning came into contact with the mage’s small frame, his body involuntarily seized as massive amounts of electricity coursed through his veins. His body felt like intense heat, as the boy let out a shout of pain. Thankfully it didn’t last longer than a few seconds before the spell dissolved. “Owwww, that hurt!” He whined, recovering from the aftershocks as residual magic left his system. “But… I’ll be fine! It’ll take more than that to take down a great sage!” He boasted proudly, trying to minimize any concern his teammates might have.

The moment the material of the portal met his flesh, he was instantly dropped onto a new kind of stage. One of three, all with enemies, but one with an absolutely monstrous metallic beast that peered down at all of them.

To address matters more closely related to him, he could spot the familiar Ephraim, accompanied by several slightly familiar faces. He had seen them all in the break room before his departure, but they hadn’t exactly exchanged pleasantries. There was no reason to, really. These guys looked like they repelled women, not the other way around.

On the other side of them was a hand, and a metallic-looking version of the only ‘friend’ he had made in this place. Next to her stood the same metallic figure, but in the shape of a man this time. Its visage stirred some form of recognition in him, but Homer couldn’t quite make out why. All he could say was that it truly, deeply, chilled his heart.

He would get back to that later, it seemed one of his new allies was addressing him. “I leave you crazy kids alone for a few minutes, and this is what you get yourselves into?” Inevitable, he was sure. His own experiences here told him they were always walking down a dangerous path. “Well, since I’m here, I guess I can lend a hand. The name is Homer, please don’t work me too hard.”

He winked at Ephraim, who had just retreated back to their ranks after attacking the robotic version of Mitama. Thankfully, whoever the blue swordsman was had already taken care of that foe. It certainly wasn’t Mitama; this version had mastered that cold deadpan she could never quite reach. Still, it was a bit disrespectful, wasn’t it? First their weapons and now this?

Turning to the other robot, and then swiftly to the hand, Homer quickly decided on the target he wanted to pursue this time. “When this is all said and done, I expect some kind of explanation on what the hell is going on here.”

Readying Nosferatu again felt almost nostalgic, but Homer shook the thought away in a hurry. It would not do to get too comfortable in situations like this. Regardless, the light pooled at his fingertips like usual, and with a snap it was fired at his target.

Homer 12/12HP hits RIGHT HAND 2.5/30HP with Nosferatu [Roll: 19+4=23, -2HP, RIGHT HAND 0.5/30HP]

More importantly, they had another opportunity forward. Mitama steps up to the door. On the off chance something is waiting to attack them once more on the other side, she would rather be able to throw out one of her spells without worrying about accidentally hitting him, thank you. "Quite ready. Let us-"

She takes the doorknob and tries to turn, but the door sticks. She pauses, blinking in quiet confusion as she tries again, but the door does not open to her. Glancing down, previously unseen in their rush to get rid of the burning key, she spies a second, identical keyhole right next to it, waiting for a second one.

"Oh, you have got to be..." Her hands fly into the air, frustrated. With an annoyed huff, she moves to the side of the door and rests her back against the wall. "We need them." She announces to him before sliding down the wall. When she reaches the ground, she sighs and lets her eyes shut.

"Alright, let's see how much resistance you put up now!" Homer gripped the handle tightly and, with a quick twist of his wrist, shoved the door wide open. A bit too much force carried him stumbling forward into a dark and stuffy room full of clutter and stage props.

"So this is what was so important...?!" This was pretty anticlimactic. Guess this meant they better get to digging around.

"They will be fine. They can surely handle a little bit of pain between the two of them. It does not even seem to be hurting you particularly bad." Except when it does. She jumps a little at his sudden yelp before scowling. "Do not say things that are going to tempt it into hurting you!" She reprimands him. Ridiculous. That was like asking for the fates to lose any trace of pity that they might have held for him. 

“How was I supposed to know the key could hear me?!” It most certainly could not, that was not a skill inanimate objects had. The timing was suspicious, though. At least they were almost at their destination, as Mitama so kindly pointed out.

Her words left him tired, side-eyeing her as he continued his speedrun toward the large door at the end of the hall. “I’m sure Drama will see how considerate and chivalric I am leading the way, and grant me a great sum of… something! Not even a few more steps could take that away from me.”

A few steps would not, could not, beat him. Not when he was already at the door, shoving the key into the lock as fast as possible. As a parting gift, the key deemed it necessary to give him one last loving burn. This time, he muffled the incoming yelp. Not this time, you damn key.

With one last turn of the key, the door was unlocked and he was no longer burdened with its responsibility. “With that, my work is complete! Surely even you must admit I bravely carried its burden with minimal complaining.” Chest puffed out, a satisfied smile on his face, he had successfully done a good thing. When he next saw Nanna, he would show her his hands as proof of this endeavor.

Such is the intent, but as they continue back towards what is hopefully the final door, they are stopped again by the appearance of the other pair finally catching up with them. Homer stops, unexpectedly, and Mitama abruptly stops herself before she crashes into his back. They look awful again. She sighs and shakes her head. The obstacles within this area truly seemed to have it out for them, and coming crying for aid when they had just committed to going faster really was unfortunate timing.

She does not even bother taking the staff off her back this time. Instead, she just reaches behind her and grabs it with one hand before channeling magical energy through it. The spell is not the strongest, but it is not any weaker than it was last time. No one would know. "Fancy running into you here. A shame we do not have time to talk." She places a hand on Homer's back and nudges him forward, urging him to keep moving. "We are in a bit of a rush, you see. Try not to dawdle too far behind, I cannot heal you if you fall in the shadows!"

The heat hadn’t struck him in a while, and he began to wonder if maybe it naturally cooled down over time. That uncomfortable feeling abated, and the bard couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down to his hands. The key still radiated an ominous red…

“Maybe we should have told them what to expect before we departed… Not that I don’t appreciate you keeping it brief.” Homer picked back up again, letting the key rest in only a single hand this time. He would not go through the effort of swapping hands if its magic had worn thin.

It does not delight her, thank you very much. How cruel does he think she is? A worried smile pulls on her expression as she follows behind him, watching as the key bounces back and forth between his hands. In part to make sure that she is ready to try and catch it if he drops it, even if it looks as though it might hurt, and in part out of worry as she watches his hands for any spreading burns. They cannot afford any of their number to become incapacitated while they are here, and the hands are the worst possible vulnerability that could be exposed.

It wasn’t as though the key were searing his hands every second it rested there, but it was certainly noticeable. Sometimes it stung worse, sometimes it was mild, but the problem was that it was never comfortable. If only they had a brute who didn’t mind pain along for the ride, maybe then he wouldn’t be stuck with this.

Why even was he stuck with this? He side-eyed the girl at his side, who at the very least seemed to share some sympathy for him. If only he didn’t have to lead the way, but sadly something told him it was the right thing to do. He sighed loudly. Just what exactly had that princess done to his brain?

“Don’t say such things when we both know this is the only choice. You’ll tempt me…” Even without Nanna’s moral compass messing with his mind, he knew this was the logical choice too. He had seen Mitama’s healing prowess, and he could trust that she would keep him on his feet should it get rough. The same could not be said for her. If this key decided to mean business, he would have no way to ease her pain.

“All is well if we keep a steady march!” March, march, march! They would reach the door shortly if they kept a move on, and all would be well.

"Alright, alright. No need to whine, we can end this now." With a final bright cast of her spell, the jockey fades away into the darkness, like it is just as much a part of the nothingness itself. She expects something to be left behind. A key. The door magically opening up. Something. But no such incident occurs. Instead, the two are left in the silence of the hallway, with only the sound of the runners still running in the distance as their background.

How disappointing. She imagines she does not need to inform him of such. With a sigh, she crosses her arms and looks down the rest of the hallway yet unexplored. "It seems we should need to keep going." She tells him. Without waiting for his newly stomped foot to recover, she begins to walk that way. She does not have ice, after all. "I am not carrying you."

“Putting an end to this game of tag would certainly redeem you, yes.” Homer puffed his chest in frustration, steadying himself back onto both feet. He would enjoy this front row seat to watching this guy get blasted into the heavens. He had seen it before, and he would likely see it again. Mitama was something of a magical genius, huh?

When the tantrum ended and the attendant was nowhere to be found, they both snooped around greedily for their target. Yet, unlike with their other trials, it was not left dangling before their eyes. They would need to keep looking. “That is quite apparent, yes.”

Rolling his eyes, Homer limped down the hall with her, a frown replacing his previous carefree features. “Like I’d ask for that now… I’ll be worked to the bone down here.” Whatever they got out of this experience, aside from his wounded pride, had better be worth it.

When they reached the end of the hall, Mitama rushed forward to bend down at an interesting-looking key on the floor. That was their target! Ah, but what was with that scary hue of red radiating from it? “It’s hot? Maybe you’re falling ill from all this exercise, let me see it.” Homer bent down too, collecting the key nonchalantly, ready to achieve their new V.I.P. status.

Alright, enough of that. They do have an angry racer to deal with. He strikes out at Homer not once, but twice, and that certainly will not do to allow. Quickly, she calls down another beam of light onto the foe. A flailing arm nearly hits her, but she is able to duck under it. She is not even sure if that was so much of an attack as it was a simple thrashing as part of this overblown tantrum it seemed determined to throw.

"I do not think there is much praise to be earned from bullying a bunch of the staff who work here while trying to snoop." She calls over to him as she backs away. It is so tempting to just run while its attention is on Homer and see if she can be fortunate enough to find the key on her own down the hall, but...ugh. He will never let her hear the end of it if he wakes up in their resting room after being knocked unconscious.

“Yeah, yeah… All that coin, yet you let it rot in your pockets. You may have been the fan favorite, but I’m coming for that title.” Though it was looking like it wouldn’t be on merit alone, more like a runner-up in comedic relief. Whoever was running this show must really enjoy watching him struggle.

“You say there is nothing noble in what we have to do, but I must disagree!” Light charged at his fingertips, and with a snap of his fingers he released it onto the workhorse. “We’re assisting the heroes of this tale, and besides, if anyone is being bullied here it’s me…” Homer squeezed out the last part quietly, still feeling the phantom pangs of a saddle against his precious face.

And to prove his point, the racer came flying forward at him yet again, another futile attempt to trample him. “Heh,” Homer smirked, already dodging the charge with nimble footwork and a performative spin.

Nothing could wipe that smirk off his face, well, nothing except for the flat soles of a large boot pressing into his own sandals with full force. “AH!” Again, he thought, if anyone was being bullied here, it was most certainly him. Some kind of karmic force was always at the ready to punish him for his witty remarks and playful banter.

The promise of ice, whether real or not, does also motivate her to push that final distance. She even spares him from having to answer just where he expects to find any.

As they pass the finish line, Mitama immediately collapses. Not all the way to the floor, but she stops with her hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. "I...am not one...for running..." She had not even marched in her army days! Lilith's magic allowed them to just appear where they needed to be. Agony. Misery. The life of a foot soldier truly was the worst to experience.

While she catches her breath, Homer begins to look around. His discovery drags a horrible, loud noise out of her, halfway between a horrified yell and agonized groaning. "For a theatre there is a shocking lack of creativity!" She complains as she finally stumbles after him. The door in question bars their path to the right, which leaves only one way to go.

Turning to head that way in question, she gasps as she finds something being thrown their way. Though she attempts to avoid it, the riding crop still bounces off her before clattering to the ground. She stares at it in silence before raising her head to find one of the racers before, yelling and kicking up a storm as he stomps their way.

Turning from the projectile, to Mitama, and then finally back to their less-than-friendly company, he sighed loudly. “We were just discussing the lack of creativity in this place. Something tells me it’s back to clobber the idiot.” Preparing Nosferatu from his waist was a simple task, yet he was growing tired of this work.

“To whomever might be watching us from the shadows, just know… I better be getting paid overtime for this performance.” He was practically carrying this show on his back with the help of his lovely and dangerous assistant.

Making small jumps in place to ready his limbs, and with a tired grin plastered on his face, he was ready to get this going. Mitama was the real powerhouse in combat, so he would just provide support from the sidelines and let her get to work. “Just think of all the praise we’ll surely receive when this is all over.”

The thought gave him a bit more motivation. Maybe a pretty maiden would find it in her heart to court him? Conjuring the mana from his tome for the first time in a while, the warm waves of magic comforted him slightly. This was going to hurt that thing more than it was going to hurt him.

A whirlpool of light engulfed the disgruntled stage employee, and as it fought for its balance, Homer felt the fatigue leave his limbs. Good. Once it was free, it came dashing at him full force, but he had seen this move before. “Woah now, maybe try a more creative approach. That one’s a little boring.”

He taunted the racer as he sidestepped the rage-induced rampage, but was completely oblivious to the explosion he had set off. Before they could settle back into a rhythm of combat, the attendant stomped on the ground violently before beginning a secondary assault. This time, it launched various items at him full force. The final straw was, of course, the full-sized saddle it pulled out of nowhere to slam into his face.

In the far distance, a goalpost appears. Another entry way, seemingly leading to another part of this bizarre backstage area. They are already half of the way they, they just need to make up the remaining distance. 

She wishes she knew how to warp. By the Dawn, she really needs to learn that spell.

Another flurry of races go past them. Though they do their best to weave between them and dodge the hurried forms, Mitama has never been one known for her speed. One wrong step, one misplaced foot at the wrong time is all that it takes. A passing racer stomps down on her foot as they go by and she yelps in pain, throwing her way forward to hop on the other foot out of the racer's trajectory. "I hope the Dusk curses you all!" She yells after them.

When Mitama righted herself to curse at the racer who was already far away, he quickly matched her pace. “Who’s in need of a ride now, huh?” Homer pointed at her foot, a smirk on his face as they ran in stride. “Oh, but you’re an adult, so you’ll just have to suffer, won’t you?” Not that he would have risked slowing himself down like that anyway. Slowing down was like asking these things to trample you to death.

In truth, he hoped the injury was not enough to muddy their pace, and it did not seem to be. This girl was running on pure spite and persistence, which was certainly admirable. Any time Homer had it in his head to worry about her, she powered through with a resilience not found in most.

“Maybe we can ice it when this is all over. My treat!” Seemingly finished with his banter, she echoed a question that had been in his mind since the start. “The finish line is right up ahead, just a little bit further!”

Crossing the threshold onto the other side, Homer was almost willing to miss the nostalgic empty hallway. It was certainly better than where they had just come from. “By the gods, that was terrible.” Homer huffed out, doubled over with hands on his knees. He had not run that much in forever.

She gives the other two a short bow paired with a reminder to be mindful of future threats before hurrying after Homer towards the tunnel. "I never said was scared of it!" She objects, huffing as she continues past him. "Unbelievable / rudeness knows no boundaries / no thanks even got!"

The tunnel is pretty dark though.

Carefully, she steps into it. Though it tilts downwards, it is not steep enough to drop off into an immediate fall. She is able to stay upright and slowly make their way down, until light begins to trickle its way through the mouth and beckon them to their next goal, along with the sound of footsteps increasing in volume.

The next area is odd in shape, clearly surrounded by something. Mitama blinks for a moment, lost in the sudden shift of light. This space is much larger than the previous ones had been. She is not given much time so study it, however, before someone goes flying by them.

Obstacle 3: MITAMA 10/10HP rolls a 5. -2HP, MITAMA 8/10HP, HOMER 10/10HP. MITAMA 8/10HP rolls a 4 for Haiku.

It was all well enough, though. He had kept the rise of discontent and the bubbling panic under wraps just enough to function. When it slipped for even a moment, his partner was none the wiser that it was he who was scared. At least it came with a benefit: he did not have to make the first step inside.

"I do hope you don't feel underappreciated, My Lady. I'm just a humble bard, so please allow me continue shadowing you." Homer let out sarcastically, following her down the steady decline that gave way to their next trial. Before his eyes could even adjust to the light, to gain a sense of space around him, there was already trouble brewing.

Mitama cried out, and then her hand was on his wrist, beckoning her to move it while there was still something to move. If he tripped, would these freaks trample him? Scary thought. “You don’t gotta tell me twice, let’s get the hell out of here!” Homer gripped back, making sure not to lose her.

Rushing past this track was not a complicated task, but someone should try telling his legs that. Even just a few seconds of full-speed running and they were burning from overuse. Blast it, maybe he should have tried a bit of training back then.

It was enough to slow him down if only for a second, and one second was all this vulture needed to come flying at him from the side. “Hey-” Homer scooted to the side as best he could, having to release his grip on Mitama to do so.

"There is little reason to believe that May would want to assist us." She concedes. The woman works for the so-called Dramatician after all, and had proclaimed herself as his permanent favorite. "The part she mentioned about the show continuing even if we fail to achieve the goal of becoming shining stars concerns me." There had been something to her tone when she spoke of that idea, something that reminded her of similar magic being explained to a younger her in quiet, apologetic tones. The nagging voice in the back of her head will not leave her alone again.

"How long do you think she has worked here?" She asks. "She is obviously different from the other employees..." She had seemed sad. If she was to believe, one might even think that she worried about them. It would be foolish to blindly believe that someone had good intentions for them just because they claimed it to be so, but there is a part of her that hesitates at the idea that all of this is just another convoluted trap, somehow.

"What if she is trapped here just like us?" Another idea with no basis, but no one ever gets anywhere by only looking at the obvious that is in front of you. "Or, perhaps, what if she has been here so long that she has become just as much a part of this charade as the prisoner himself? Or what if..."

“I haven’t any more of a clue than you do, but I know there is little point in pondering the unknowns right now.” They were already in this maze of boxes and stage props, so they might as well make the best of it. Besides, if this was still a performance, staying still would certainly work against them on the road to stardom.

“All I can say is that this place is odd. It feels like there are eyes on us even when there is nobody here. Not to mention the lackeys that seem to form out of thin air. I would not be surprised if we were being judged even now.” He had thought as much since they met the first attendant, who insisted on gambling as a form of payment for a way forward. That made no sense.

“Let’s just keep going.” Homer paused, readying himself to point toward the open pathway, but stopped when he saw two familiar faces. Yeesh, they looked like hell.

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  “Your charity knows no bounds, Mitama, but it would be foolish for all four of us to idle here for much longer.” They had been sent back here to collect something, even if it was nothing. He suspected their teammates would not be too happy to see them returning empty-handed. Or, worse, if whoever was pulling the strings here was dissatisfied with this charade.

The timing is inopportune. She will simply keep an eye out for now. She follows after him with a sign. "Surely there has to be more to this place than an endless collection of doors." She grumbles as she waits for him to unlock their current one. Surely. Hopefully. Please?

The gods are merciful. The door swings open, and Mitama leans towards him to spy a room on the other side, larger than the space that they are currently in. Far off in the distance seems to be another wall, but no more VIP or Super VIP or Ultra VIP signs are in sight. She lets out a relieved sigh, nudging him with her shoulder as she scoots past him to enter the space.

"What a relief...Jokes are usually told in thirds, but I had no interest in hearing a repeat of that one again." Off to their side, she sees what appears to be a tunnel of some kind. It slopes downwards, cutting off any possible hint of where it may lead from sight. Actually inside the room now, she can also see what appears to be the outline of a door on the wall they were facing, but no actual door in sight, as though whatever was there could not be opened from their side.

“We may be through with that joke, but-” Homer bit his lip and looked out toward the menacing hallway that dipped below their line of sight. “I have a feeling we haven’t had the last laugh just yet.” This place was so wide and vast that it could hardly be called a backstage area, and yet here they were.

Behind them was where they had just come from, in front of them was a never-ending dark abyss, and to their right was a large wall. Ugh. The bard had certainly seen enough of that. When he looked closer, though, he noted it was similar to where they had come from. There were hinges where a door should be, but no handle to open one. Odd.

“She was quite insistent on it, but… perhaps she was lying to us.” They had just met her, barely spoken any words, and yet here they were. If he went through all this trouble for nothing, she would certainly be hearing words from him. “Or maybe we just aren’t looking hard enough? We have been fairly occupied trying to secure a way forward.”

The guard does not take kindly to the threat either, if the grip it maintains on Homer is any indication. Mitama sighs, but unfolds her arms and raises her hands anyway. "Alright, that is enough, if you do not mind!"

Abraxas is a difficult spell to aim, and Homer's wiggling attempts at escaping do not make it easy. When she casts the spell, she only manages to clip the guard as it stumbles to the side. She sucks her teeth impatiently, though the sound is drowned out by a horrifying sort of gargling that emerges from its not mouth before it roughly shoves Homer into the nearby wall. Mitama's eyes widen briefly before narrowing. Her patience with this place is already wearing quite thin.

"You can give us the key now and live!" She offers quickly before throwing out another spell. With it no longer struggling to maintain its grip, it is a much easier target to hit. The beam of light crashes down onto it again. It stumbles out and forward, smoke from burns drifting off it as it reaches forward towards her. It stumbles over its own feet, giving her plenty of time to move out of the way and call down one final spell. As the light fades away, the attendant is gone, and only a key sits in its place.

His poor head had sustained enough damage already, and now it throbbed with the familiar pangs of discomfort. Dazed and crumpled on the floor, he could only watch through his slowly steadying vision as Mitama unleashed her frustrations on the bouncer. If only he had been able to do that… but, well, he was not entirely opposed to her doing all the work.

He might have some pretty bad luck on occasion, but being paired with her was certainly his first stroke of good luck. Before Homer could even pretend to offer assistance, she had already fried their foe and was at his side on the ground.

“I think all my bones are in place. Somehow…” What he could really go for was some ice. He could already feel his beautiful face swelling from the force. Maybe they would find some through this next door? “Now,” Homer stood up quickly, ignoring the way his vision narrowed for a few moments before righting itself.

Confusion is lost in the flurry of events that follow, swiftly replaced by Mitama scoffing at his petulant reaction to her victory. What, was he no more mature than a child having lost a silly game between friends? "Beginner's luck is still luck. If you insult the fates like that, they will never see it fit to bestow you with their support ever again." Not that the fates actually cared about things like human words or wants, but she was by no means in any rush to tempt their anger by insulting them to their faces.

He does have a point though. Better to continue forward than linger unnecessarily. However, while they have the chance, she does not see any reason to miss out on the opportunity to learn more about the situation they have found themselves in. "Excuse me, but do you-" Mitama turns, intending to question the attendant, only to find that they have already disappeared from the area. She looks around, but does not see them anywhere. "...nevermind then."

Forward it is. Mitama moves over to the door and inserts the key. The door unlocks easily and swings open to reveal...another room. From her place in the doorway, she can already see another grand door further in with an equally gaudy sign above it, this time proclaiming that the room may only be accessed by super VIPs.

She stares blankly. "Oh. Oh you have to be kidding me."

With a groan, she walks into the room. "Another door? Are we just going to find door after door as we travel about here? This is not my idea of finding important information back here!" Unbelievable. Stopping a short distance away from it, she crosses her arms and glares at the door in front of them.

He followed alongside Mitama as she unlocked the door and led the way down a second, equally long hallway. They were halted again by a large and vibrant door, accompanied by a neon ‘Super V.I.P’ sign near it. Really..?

It was good to know he was not the only one feeling frustrated by this obvious stall for time by the stagehands. Who had even heard of a Super V.I.P, anyway? “I’d like to see those featureless creatures crack a joke…” Actually, on second thought, maybe he would not like to see that.

“There isn’t anything for us here but a bad sense of humor, so I guess we’ve got to power forward regardless.” Homer sighed in resignation, already matching her glance to the lock on the door. “I’m not sure what kind of vibe I give off, but I am no criminal! Besides… I don’t have any tools for that right now.” He muttered the last part quietly, walking closer to the door to inspect the surroundings.

“HALT! This is for Super V.I.P.s only!”

Homer jolted back to life, back straightening and feet skittering several steps from where they had been. “W-What the?! Hey, man, hands off the merchandise before she whacks you with her staff!” The bard pointed behind him to the girl.

Which of the four to chose...the lady with the sword seemed to be faring well, though she could also wager upon Griss's continued struggling...her eyes land on Bernadetta and her frown deepens. She had worried about the other student so much during their brief respite, but she had only seen such concern as a promise to do better. One generous act does not really inspire the belief that she knows her well enough to know how she might bet upon a person like Bernadetta, but...

"a-and i want to be reliable, too."

Mitama nods to herself. "Bernadetta will fare well enough on her next challenge." She declares to the attendant. Her eyes do not move away from the monitor as she waits, arms crossed before her. Bernadetta had asked for her faith in her, and she wants to ensure that when the time comes, she sees it happen.

When the ramp comes up, Mitama holds her breath as she watches. Bernadetta manages to jump and keep going. It's so anticlimactic and normal that she really has no idea if she has achieved anything or not, but with about as much abruptness as with which it had appeared in the first place, a burst of confetti appears from directly behind the attendant. Mitama jumps again as she spins around to find it beaming at her with a hand outstretched. "Congratulations! A well enough performance indeed!' In the palm of its hand sits the key. She stares at it for a moment until she recovers enough from her shock to pluck it up. VIP is engraved upon the very end of the key.

His only consolation prize was that Mitama seemed to know these people, and was offering to introduce him. “My, how kind of you! So her name is Griss, is it? How exotic. Wait a minute, don’t you mean she-” His question did not linger in the open for long, Mitama already placing her bet.

He followed her gaze to the moving tablet, finding a very fragile-looking purple mess to be her focus. Bernadetta, she had said… She did not look like much; if anything, Homer probably would have bet against her. “That’s your winning horse, eh? She looks like a brisk winter breeze would knock her over, but have it your way. Beginners have to learn the hard way.”

The bard could not even watch, instead turning away from the screen as he continued his lecture on proper gambling. It was not until confetti appeared out of nowhere, and the attendant handed her a key, that his yapping stopped. “You have got to be kidding me…”

"I cannot deny that I do not feel similar...if I at least had a familiarity with how capable they normally were, i would feel more assured in making any kind of assumptions about them, but..." She knows that Griss is good at fighting, but not necessarily at running. She has seen Bernadetta go racing into hiding before, but never under spotlights on a stage as grand as this before. The other two are complete unknowns. 

Luckily, Homer finds another option for them. Unluckily, it is one she feels even less confident about. "Surely you mean a toy hammer and not a real one, yes?"

The attendant does not answer, just moves the mouth like hole in a gesture similar to a smile and waves their hammer.

She does not like those odds. She wrinkles her nose a little in return. "Unfortunately I have a lifetime of history to suspect that fate will not allow me to win such a venture easily." If it was just once, she might be willing to take the risk, but three times seems unlikely. "If you believe that fortune will smile your way enough for you to find success, however, I would not stop you from making an attempt at testing it. If you win alone, then that should be enough to-"

"No no!" The attendant interrupts cheerfully. "Though you arrived together, you are two separate potential VIPs! You both have to test your luck separately!"

When it came to the flip of a coin, though, Homer had won hundreds, no, thousands of games just like this before. The loss usually involved a round of drinks, but surely that hammer could not hurt too badly.

“Alright, big guy, I’m feeling lucky!” Homer played with the coin in his hands for a few moments before shooting it high into the air. At last it landed on the back of his hand, and quickly his other palm slammed down on it. Flipping it over revealed… tails?! Screw you, Lady Luck!

His eyes wandered back toward Mitama to share the bad news, his luster completely gone and replaced with defeat. “Oops-” BONK! The hammer slammed down on his head almost comically, causing the bard’s teeth to chatter. “What the hell?! Can’t you at least go easy on the first flip? I’m just warming up!”