She had waited. Contamination of the city had made things difficult, had made it hard to regroup, and so she'd become weaker. Once she'd been purged of the filthy virus and had access to the city again, she remained at her place for several days. The monsters had become restless, and the arrival of their master satiated their wanderlust. It was just as well: Alessa had pent up aggression, and that could only be dealt with right with the creation of more, different monsters. To her irritation, many of them started to look a little like increasingly zombified versions of Sasami and Negi, two of the people constantly on her mind in the last few days. She'd kept them a secret for the moment though: she didn't need to give Sasami more reasons to be freaked out by her. Instead, she continued to increase her strength, and soon she was able to maintain her human appearance again.

Still, the monsters were numerous, and starting to attack each other. She would have to find a more permanent solution for her monsters, or at least have a new mission where she could kill things. Otherwise, she was going to land in hot water with the inhabitants of the ship. For the moment, Alessa wasn't going to think about it. New people had arrived on the ship and several different things had happened while she was in medbay.

Now she was simply wandering aimlessly for the moment, in older guise, unable to really pinpoint a feeling at the moment.

Night in the City led the Overlord to discover a grim and horrible truth:

Getting your mope on as a book is pretty darn difficult.

That knowledge frustrated him -- and since the prime source of his frustration was his frustration, it fed into the horrible cycle of irritation that had at last boiled over into a grouchy Overlord perched atop a pillar he'd had his minions haul over specifically for the purpose of perching upon as a suitable location to be a grouch.

The Overlord simply didn't have a nature that lent itself to frustration. From the beginning, he'd set his goal and fought for it -- and had done so for well over thirty thousand years. He had, in fact, achieved a goal beyond that of anyone else in the universe, and it had felt good. Damn good. Like nothing else imaginable!

"And now here I am!" the book said, out loud to the black and empty sky. "It's not being the damn book that bothers me. I can deal with that. I'm still the most badass freakin' Overlord in the cosmos. But give me a damn ENEMY to fight!

"Agh, this sucks!" Zetta made a motion that didn't work as a book, wobbled, and nearly fell off the pillar. Some choice words filled the air in place of his formerly magnificent monologue.

He hated this. He hated feeling frustrated. He hated feeling grumpy. He wouldn't stand for this sort of feeling in someone else! Go out there and DO something, he'd say!

But damn it all, he was already the most badass Overlord to be had! And a book! Where was he supposed to go from here?!

((Edit: Posts in the Giant Rumble thread cover the time period in which Zetta and Nanashi have gone off to brawl; characters who are spying on this should post there. The post in general still remains open.))

Rein had made the announcement. While she had plenty of fabric left, read: enormous piles, she was also excited at the prospect of making outfits for everyone for this event. And also, she had made an extra note that anyone who was participating in Miss Stacy could come get something made up as well.

She was flitting around, carrying stacks of cloth and hoping the first customer would walk in.

Evangeline had made her home on the ship at the Chateau d'If; not the dismal island fortress to which the name properly belonged but the private rooms of the author who had made it famous. Most important to the reclusive mage was the out-of-the-way location far from the most densely-populated parts of the city, but the history and style of the building appealed to her as well. It had a cute, compact appearance not unlike that of her residence on the Mahora grounds which, while in every way inappropriate to her fearsome reputation still suited her tastes just as well as the grand and imposing castles she had once raised.

But now the picturesque grounds were marred by the terrible light of her magic, flickering weirdly as it arced to and fro, and the air was filled with the strange keening wail of densely-accumulated magical power. And above that there was one more blatantly sinister sound: the recognizably human screams of the subject of the great spell, her luckless apprentice, Negi. The site of the ritual was no less alien; master and apprentice were both suspended in air above the great circle she had formed, Negi in his agonies and Evangeline in deep concentration.

She'd had ample time to consider her approach while the boy recovered to a state she thought sufficient to withstand the rigors she had most definitely intended to put him through, but she would not simply be implementing a preexisting design. She was dealing with a living system, in more senses than one, and though she was intimately familiar with the theory behind Magia Erebea she had never intended it for use by a human, or indeed anyone other than herself, and its expression in Negi was not something she understood in detail. She would still have to think on her feet, as it were... in fact, it would be as great a challenge as anything she'd done in decades, she expected. For that, the chance to revisit her greatest work, she could almost thank Negi.

[Though this is supposed to be somewhat out-of-the-way anyone who wants to come complain about Eva's less-than-stellar bedside manner/nuking small children is welcome]

The pounding of fists in the Sensorium reverberated as the noise of shockwaves echoing from each the punches could be heard as a young boy barely of the age of 10 continued to wallop on the punching bag. Normally Negi would have selected a live opponent, such as Ku Fei or perhaps a Fate-Shaped Punching bag, but all he had right now was a simple dojo with a hanging bag.

The bag buckled with the impacts as Negi continued to slam his fists at it, magic bursting from each impact as his face was contorted into a mixed expression of fury and pain. Fury because once again he was unable to stop and get everyone home safely, and pure pain because he had lost everything. His world was GONE. He’d never see anyone again; Asuna, Nodoka, Kotaro…. A faint nagging told him they were safe but he ignored it in favor of slamming his fists faster and faster into the bag.

“All of this… all of this and I’m not strong enough” Thud “Powerful enough” WHAM THUD THWACK “AND MOST IMPORTANTLY I FAILED!”

Letting out a furious scream of equal parts fury and pain, he reared back and drove his fist into the bag, the tattoos of the Magica Erebea flashing dangerously.

The bag disintegrated in a shower of shining dust, atomized from the force.

Panting, Negi held up a hand and in an instant, a teenager grew from his form, stretching and ripping the plantsuit. He didn’t care. “STACY! ANOTHER!”

The chiding motherly tone replied in his mind and he growled. “I don’t care! ANOTHER!”

Almost reluctantly, another bag appeared and he continued to pulverize it, the beatings continued as tears rolled down Negi’s eyes.

Samus has decreed that Grif exercise and hopefully, through some act of god, become less of a slob than he currently is. Part of this is getting him to do something besides laying around on the Obs Deck whining about everything under the sun and several things that aren't.

The sensoriums are set up like a gym, a not uncommon thing considering some members of the crew. One of the treadmills is running, but there's nobody on it. Grif is sitting on a bench off to one side, playing what might be some sort of species of gameboy with the sound muted. He listens in case of approaching footsteps as he waits on the distance to rack up.

What? He's not running a couple miles. Not in this or any universe!

It had taken a little planning and some inquiries to the ship but the two kids were preparing for their match. Negi finished his stretches and looked over to Chamo. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Trust me Aniki, this'll be just like sparring with your teachers," assured Chamo. "You two will be okay."

Negi nodded. He was currently shirtless again, his still damaged plantsuit tied around his waist. His scars were showing but he was prepared for the match.

His opponent? Vivio Takamachi. The pair had hit it off quite well and when the discovery that they could both grow up AND did martial arts came up, well, a powered match was nothing short of exciting to the pair.

Getting into position, he nodded to Chamo. Sparring in an outdoor area would give them more space to work with.

"This is a submission match!" exclaimed Chamo, waving little flags. "Both will fight until one cannot continue. No time limit. In this corner, the daughter of Nanoha Takamachi, the powerful mage-girl herself, Viviooooooooo Takamaaaaaachiiiiiiii!"

"And in this corner, the son of the Thousand Master, said to have known a thousand spells, the child prodigy himself, Negiiiiii Sprinnnnnnggggfiiiiieeeeld!"

"Fighters to your sides, and lets get ready to ruuuummmmbllllleeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

(ooc: spectators are free to, well spectate. And place bets. Please make separate threads if you want to spectate the fight.)