Shovel Tirelessly!

     It’s Specter Knight all right. Calling out to them when it very well could have been any other red robed litch would be most embarrassing if he was mistaken. ❝ Um… err… ❞ He stammers, clutching the toy to him like a shy child. He didn’t know why he expected it to be less embarrassing to gentle prod them. Their being subdued over it only made him feel worse. ❝ You’ll have to forgive me. I… could not help but be curious what state those sordid scientists have left you in. ❞ He says, straightening his stance again. Clearly, Specter can’t be having a grand time. He’s usually has a remarkable flare for dramatics!      ♠

Specter Knight held their former enemy’s gaze for some time, silently weighing their options. Admittedly, it was surprising to see an equally-subdued reaction on Shovel Knight’s part; Specter just assumed that they would have been forced into a game of cat-and-mouse by proxy.

Now Magnus has seen some cool armor, especially in Fantasy Costco, but this took the cake. The armored out person, whatever they were, was decked out in a steely blue armor with, what Magnus thought was, the biggest set of horns he’d every seen. Even during the race there weren’t people with big ol’ horns on their masks, which was kind of a tragedy now that Magnus thought about it. They were missing out on this. The fighter wasted no time in talking to the stranger.

     And he thought King Knight was one for dramatics. The little knight that could stares at what remains of his hard earn sandbox toy in wonder if eating the top half had really been worth it to Treasure Knight. It mattered not. He couldn’t let him walk away. As outmatched as he knows he is, he has an oath to uphold and this would not stand. Literally, in this case. Shovel Knight slides next to the lumbering beast and sticks the plastic handle in front of Treasure Knight’s foot in the hopes that that coupled with his incredible strength could trip him.      ♠

Treasure Knight thoughtfully crunches the plastic between his teeth as he makes his retreat, unaware of the cerulean champion silently sliding up beside him. The tripping hazard causes him to stumble but not quite fall. Spitting the remains of the toy shovel on the ground between them, he bares teeth in a sour expression.

@forshovelry

To say he wasn’t surprised to be back here was an understatement. His memory is failing, sure, but what man couldn’t forget the months spent in this realm? The city buildings and street were fuzzy, but he remembers his first steps here. He remembers the feeling of nausea and disdain toward the sky-high buildings. He remembers the sector filled with flowers, one of his favorite places.

He remembers those long horns connecting to a small, blue-armored body.

Lips parted, a moment of silence overwhelming him as he could only feel the mixture of emotions waver through him. Was he to be jolly in this moment? Or fearful that Shovel Knight had potentially suffered the same fate as himself during his absence.

To say he was quiet about approaching was an understatement. Siegmeyer’s voice carries out in a pride-filled roar, echoing across the buildings he’d grown grey-feelings towards. The clunking armor, the jolly-filled laughs, the open arms–all of it shot towards the small, shovel-wielding knight’s way.

That is why he sits in the mud of the sixth sector among a circle of rocks. All is still, save for the whisper of the wind in the grass. This is one of the reasons he remains a wandering knight. It dampens the spirit to find the thugs you’d put away in town were replaced by yet more the very next day. A sense of accomplishment keeps the soul well nourished, as does unfamiliar dirt. He may not be able to hear the songs of the earth in this accursed cage, but he can still smell! This mud smells nothing like the mug in the heart of the forest and he likes the smooth texture of it better.

Peace shattered by a tough sounding voice hollering his name propels him into the air, ready for battle! With his yet again broken plastic blade. But wait! An onion knight is stomping toward him! He knows an onion knight all too well!

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

This city was a foul one, familiar in a dream-like sense and foreign in every other. The smog was pungent, the noise unbearable, the technology alien– Specter Knight stuck out like a sore thumb on these modern streets, their scarlet cloak billowing at each passing car. Car… yes. They remembered that one from the last time.

It went without saying that they were not pleased to be back in the Hive. Crooked claws tightened around the wooden staff inexplicably in their grasp, a crude imitation of the scythe they treasured so dearly. They were content to stand there, lost in dull rumination and taking in the sights– that is, until a gentle CLUNK against their armored back jolted them from their daze.

Specter Knight let out a deep sigh before they had even completely turned around; the flash of distinct blue armor was all they needed to fill in the gaps. It seemed fate had some games to play with them today to sweep Shovel Knight across their path. Had they just been prod with that little toy in his hands…?