Lorelei opened her eyes to a very different world than they had closed in. For a start, gone was the brooding malevolence of the Winding Way and the horrors of Crookshollow, replaced by . . . something else. It was all too loud and bright to properly categorise immediately, but—even after such a very short acquaintance—she was painfully reminded of when she accompanied a friend and her two-year-old to a soft play. The chaos, the pounding music, the shouts and screams of triumph and disaster . . . yes, it was definitely reminiscent of an afternoon that had single-handedly convinced her to go back on the pill.
***Help Message***
Welcome back to the land of the living, chicken-little. I was a bit worried you were going to sleep through all the fun.
"Fun?" Lorelei tried to crack open her left eye, wincing at the effort. "The increased weight debuff still running, I see?"
***Of Course Message***
You didn’t think a little thing like defeating the Cursed Knight, claiming the Amulet of Drayton, and foiling the machinations of the Weaver of Fate would grant you a break, did you? You can bet your sweet, sweet arse that debuff is still running.
"Maybe. But, you know, hope springs eternal." Ignoring the worrying development of her Guide appreciating her backside, Lorelei tried to open her other eye, but the effort was too much, so she had to do the best she could to take in her surroundings with the view she had. It was fair to say the whole vibe was akin to being dropped into the worst sort of fever dream—if that dream had been designed by a sugar-addled child with a penchant for lurid colours, no regard for sanity, and easy access to crack. A migraine began forming in Lorelei's head just from this short glance. The whole scene pulsated with a manic energy that screamed "fun," much like a clown screams "trust me."
Of course, she recognised that the cursed weight debuff wasn’t helping her frame of mind. The heaviness that had settled on her was like someone had strapped an aircraft carrier to her soul and told her to swim—upstream, naturally, and against the current of an oncoming tsunami. Trying to get a handle on what was going on in her current state was like trying to peer at a rave through a letterbox whilst being punched in the face by Tyson Fury.
Nevertheless, even from the little she could see, it was enough to make her wish she hadn’t bothered. Everything was too much. The colours clashed in a way that would have made the most joyous, carefree and woke unicorn nauseous—neon pinks battling toxic greens, with flashes of violent orange and searing yellows thrown in for good measure. A multitude of banners fluttered overhead, emblazoned with logos and slogans that might as well have been written in a foreign language or possibly the scribbles of a very determined serial killer. And the noise. Oh, the noise. It wasn’t just loud—it was a riotous symphony of shouting, cheering, and... was that bagpipe music? Someone really wanted this to be the most unwelcome place in the universe. It sounded to her like they were trying to play 'Imagine'. Somewhere to her left—her depth perception was a touch out of whack—a brass band was valiantly trying to keep up with the pace, while to her right, an announcer in the soothing tones of Gordon Ramsay was bellowing something about “the greatest showdown in history!” Mind you, if this was history, Lorelei decided, she’d be pretty on board with skipping the lesson.
The arena itself—at least, that's what she thought she was lying in the middle of—was a mess of activity. Everywhere she managed to look, there were people, too many people, all of them bustling and jostling like they were on a mission to be the most obnoxious thing in sight. It reminded her a bit of the crush in the Mystical Market back on Day One, where people in outlandish costumes strutted about, their outfits defying both taste and gravity. It was a seething mass of bodies packed tighter than sardines, hollering and whooping with abandon. It was the sort of place where personal space came to die.
***Help Message***
Speaking of which, chipmunk, you’ll have to get up off the floor soon. I’m doing my best to keep you from being trampled, but, well, I’m getting bored, and I’m starting to visualise how funny it would be for a really big fucker to step on you.
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"What do you want me to do, Guide? I can’t stand, I can’t even fucking move under this debuff. Unless Pete or Ent or someone arrives to pick me up, I’m kind of trapped here. Speaking of which, where is everyone else?"
***Help Message***
Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about them. They’ll be about, I'm sure. Dimensional transportation isn’t an exact science, but you’ve all been flagged as being in the same party, so don’t stress too much. I have no doubt you’ll be reunited before your turn to make your first run comes around.
"Our first what?"
There was a tug on the edge of her perception, and from her limited vantage point, Lorelei could just make out all manner of contraptions apparently designed to maim, humiliate, or at the very least, terminally inconvenience anyone foolish enough to participate. Platforms were spinning, others were tilting, and one particularly fiendish set was launching participants into the air like they were nothing more than very unwilling human cannonballs. Lorelei reevaluated her view of this being the worst soft play centre imaginable. It appeared there were even fewer health and safety regulations.
The spinning platforms were the sort of thing a sadistic game designer would throw in just to laugh at the inevitable chaos. And, oh look, there went some poor soul catapulting into the air to land with a crunch that suggested all the king's horses and all the king's men were going to be required. Lorelei imagined that whoever had created this was sitting back with a bucket of popcorn, watching the carnage unfold with the gleeful expression of a voyeur who had just telescopes, blackout curtains and uninhibited young women who failed to properly close their blinds.
There were also slides. Because, of course, there were. But these weren’t the friendly, plastic affairs from a regular soft play. No, these were towering, spiral monstrosities that looked like they’d been constructed by someone who wanted to recreate the experience of being flushed down a toilet. Lorelei could just make out someone—a tall, thin woman who was probably reflecting on a series of very poor life choices—hurtling down one of them, their screams barely audible over the general din. They cut off pretty immediately when she passed under - or through was probably a more accurate word - a thin coil of wire stretched across it.
Lorelei tried to move, to turn her head and take in more of this sensory assault, but the cursed weight debuff held her fast. She could only watch helplessly as it all unfolded around her. If she could have sighed, she would have, but even that small mercy was denied to her.
Somewhere in the distance, a buzzer sounded, loud and obnoxious, signalling the start of something—what, exactly, Lorelei couldn’t tell. It could have been the beginning of the tournament or just someone’s idea of a good time. Either way, she wasn’t particularly keen to find out.
***Help Message***
Look, this is a bit pathetic. If I wanted to hang around with an immobile blob, I’d be basing myself somewhere that deep-fries their protein. Can you at least make an effort to stand so this is less dull?
"Tell you what. How about I cast
There was a pause where her ticker tape didn’t move.
***Fine***
With no further ado, Lorelei targeted herself and fired up
"Sorry," Lorelei said, backing up away from them.
Or at least, that was what she intended to say. Instead, she appeared to scream at them in a rather . . . erotic way. They blinked back at her, confused, then shrugged and went on their way.
Lorelei watched them wander off, a little puzzled at what had just happened and then turned to promptly crash into a shorter woman carrying a broadsword that looked as though it had eaten three square meals a day and was still hungry for more. Once again, she opened her mouth to apologise for the intrusion, but instead of words, more noises escaped—noises better suited to an entirely different kind of interaction.
The woman stared at her, one eyebrow raised in bemused contempt, before shaking her head and walking away.
***Satisfied Message***
Yes, you’re right. 'Cursed Weight' out, 'When Harry Met Sally' in. A much more satisfying outcome.