Cassie and Oliver (made by ShadowSkul)

🌙 NIGHT 9 — THREE MORE CRASH IN, THE FOREST ROARS, AND TEAMS PICK SIDES

The air tastes like metal and old smoke. The survivors are scattered in their watch rings when a whir, a caw, and a soft, incongruous shuffle announce three new arrivals. The woods lean in — everyone knows a new face can mean a new threat, a new ally, or a new distraction.

✨ ARRIVAL — KUEEN (the flying, acid-shielded checker-piece)

A sound like a mechanized heartbeat grows above the canopy. Lights blink. The leaves part to reveal a figure in blue and white, sleek as a chess piece and twice as cold — a flight rig humming beneath a skirt of armor. She descends with a wind that smells faintly of ozone and battery acid.

She lands with a calculated stomp. A second mouth on her chest opens and emits a soft, deadpan murmur.

Kueen (flat, razor-cool): “Annoying insects, annoying noise. Who’s organizing this… carnival of fools?”

Stormy looks up from polishing his rifle. Grimm tilts his head like a critic. Mr AntTenna immediately swivels his TV-face to full, dramatic color.

Mr AntTenna (delighted): “OH MY—AUDIENCE! A NEW STAR! A ROYAL PRESENCE!”
Kueen (dry): “Remove the lights. I do not perform for screens.”
Mr AntTenna (charm undimmed): “We can adapt! You’ll be our centerpiece!”

Kueen tests a palm, and a thin laser slices a nearby log with a clean hiss. The log collapses into two precise halves; a small plume of sparks rises.

Goobert (wide-eyed): “:3 whoa.”
Shovel Man (hand on Scoopheart): “Is that— is that safe?”
Kueen (arch, approving the noise): “I can stomp. I can burn. I can make shields out of battery acid. I do not care for small games. I will survive.”

Her armor hums; a faint battery-acid sheen coats a circular panel on her forearm — she taps it, it blooms into a transparent acid-shield that sizzles a vine that brushes it.

Cassie (softly, to Oliver): “She uses acid as armor… that’s unorthodox.”
Oliver (watchful): “Keep distance. Don’t let her corner anyone.”

Reaction roundup:

Mr AntTenna immediately sees design potential (“ROYALE! STOMP! SHOW!”).

Grimm is amused; Kueen interests him as a dangerous stage prop.

Biowaffe says nothing; his eyes scan for utility.

Stormy is calculating — a powerful ranged-plus-close fighter is useful and dangerous.

End of her section: Mr AntTenna pads over, offering a bow and a pitch about “showcase synergy.” Kueen raises an eyebrow, then nods a hair. The Fragments (Mr AntTenna + Gambler + Zap) court her — spectacle and raw stomping make a tempting alliance. By night’s end she accepts Mr AntTenna’s offer — not for fandom, but because the Fragments have reach and electricity to feed her battery rig.

✨ ARRIVAL — MIKE CROWFONE (the crow-riding, scrambled-showman)

A sudden flap of a hundred midnight wings, and a black silhouette drops down — a crow wears a saddle. Perched in it: a small, twitchy cat-doll in a mended trench coat with eyes like mismatched coins. He caws into the clearing in a voice that stutters and bends letters.

Mike (unstable, excited):
“Th!s 1s @n ex̃ample—NO, LISTEN—
CROW—CROW—C @ W—BOOM—!”
He draws a tiny blaster — the Caw-boom Cannon — and fires one egg-projectile into the scrub: it pops into a flock of crow-shaped shrapnel that flutters down like confetti.

Scampton (giddily): “[PERFECT! A NEW ACT—NEW [MINI-GAMES]!!]”
Skrunkly: “I love crows!”
The Stranger (admiringly): “Showmanship with a murder-blast — yes, yes.”

Mike hops down, wobbly and theatrical, speaking in an improvisational mix of hammy lines and glitch:

Mike: “L@d1es—@nd—gentlemen—ME—IS—YO—FRIEND!!”
Scampton: “[WE’LL HAVE A DUET!!]”
Junkil (eyes glinting): “This could be chaos therapy.”

Goobert (curious): “:3 do you have snacks?”
Mike (mental skip, voice fizzing): “SNACKS—SNACKS—SN@CKS—NO—BUY ME—BUY ME—B U Y—”

His energy is contagious and unnerving — half carnival barker, half panicked radio host. He laughs, then whispers something about “Chains” that nobody fully understands.

Reaction roundup:

Scampton and The [GREATS] swarm him like moths to a bulb. Scampton offers roles in the “main show”; The Stranger offers mimicry duets; Spunch Bob is gone, but Skrunkly bounces in welcome.

Some express suspicion: Oliver murmurs, “Unstable is dangerous.”

Junkil grins — he’s thrilled by a kindred spirit of chaos.

End of his section: Scampton claps and practically drags Mike into THE [GREATS]. Mike squeals, cackles, and immediately starts plotting a “crow-cannon” routine that will confuse enemy camps. He accepts with a theatrical bow and a salvo of star-projectiles that set leaves dancing.

✨ ARRIVAL — GERSON BOOM (the tortoise sage who simply appears)

There is no fanfare — just a faint soft scuff and a smell of old books. In the middle of the clearing, leaning on a gnarled walking stick, stands a hunched tortoise-monster with a pink beard and a single half-closed yellow eye. He laughs — a slow, knowing sound.

Gerson (calm, warm): “Ah. New faces and old troubles. Mind if I sit? I remember the route through here fifty years ago when the pines were young.”

Cassie (surprised, brightening): “You— you know rituals? You… you might help with wards.”
Oliver (considering, quietly): “We could use an old brain.”
Gerson (humble chuckle): “I’m mostly here for tea and to prod the young ones into not falling off cliffs. I’ve read over a thousand winters and taught the Hammer of Justice to more than a few fools.”

Junkil (curious): “Where—where did you come from?”
Gerson (smiling): “Wherever the road bent. I walked into your world and decided to stay for the drama.” He taps his stick. “If you need strategic history, I will tell it. If you need a push, I’ll give a shove. I am not interested in spectacle, only in survival — and perhaps one good story.”

Reaction roundup:

Oliver approaches, low-voiced: “We need steady heads. Could you… stay? Help us plan?”

Cassie looks at him like finding a missing stitch. “Your knowledge could protect people.”

Shovel Man nods solemnly. “A clever old tortoise is stronger than many blades.”

Grimm watches with thin amusement — a wise creature is a potential rival for theatrical hunts, but also a buffer against rash violence.

End of his section: Gerson accepts Oliver’s quiet invitation. By nightfall he’s seated near the stream with Oliver’s crew, mapping ancient trails, marking escape routes, and telling low stories that teach patience. He joins Oliver’s team, not for glory but because he believes a steady camp is the best bet for a long life.

⚖️ LATE NIGHT — TEAM REACTIONS, BARBS, AND POLICIES

The new arrivals stir the field in immediate, loud ways.

Kueen with the Fragments:

Mr AntTenna purrs and offers a miniature stage; Gambler barks yes with a coin flip; Zap just stares and says “stomp” like it’s a new snack. Kueen accepts — not for applause, but because the Fragments’ power grid (AntTenna’s tech) feeds the battery acid that keeps her shields humming. She tells them bluntly, “Pay my batteries, and I’ll keep your enemies broken.” AntTenna happily promises “sponsor-coordination.”

Mike with THE [GREATS]:

Scampton puts a glittered collar on Mike; Skrunkly and The Stranger clap; Puppet floats nearby, smiling kindly. Mike starts planning a crow-ambush routine and flashes unstable smiles at Junkil. The [GREATS] love the chaotic energy and the potential mini-games Mike brings.

Gerson with Oliver:

Oliver nods in relief as Gerson sketches routes and fixes traps into something less deathtrappy and more survivable. Cassie hums as Gerson teaches her a variation of an old ward; Sector shatters into a glass scouting mirror and Gerson chuckles like a proud grandfather.

🔥 NIGHTWRAP — TENSIONS & PROMISES

Kueen’s boots echo in the Fragments’ camp. Her laser drill and acid shields make other tributes give a wider berth to Mr AntTenna’s bright tent.

Mike’s caw-boom eggs make Scampton giddy; The [GREATS] rework their routines into dangerous, beautiful traps.

Gerson brings quiet competence to Oliver’s camp — a voice of strategy and a reminder that a few clever moves can beat brute spectacle.

Final exchanges before sleep (heavy on dialogue):

Mr AntTenna (to Kueen, wheedling): “Imagine—KUEEN ON BROADCAST. WE COULD—”
Kueen (cutting): “I will not be marketed. I will be useful.”

Scampton (to Mike, hugging): “[WE’LL PERFORM!]”
Mike (glitched grin): “SH0W—SH0W—SH0W—C4W—BOOM—”

Gerson (to Oliver, quietly): “If they come by dawn in force, push them toward the ravine, not the ridge. Predators obey momentum.”
Oliver (soft, steady): “We’ll hold the middle. Keep the watchers awake.”

✦ Outcome: Who Joined Who by Dawn

Kueen → THE FRAGMENTS (Mr AntTenna’s pitch + power)

Mike CrowFone → THE [GREATS] (Scampton’s open arms, performance synergy)

Gerson Boom → OLIVER’S TEAM (practical strategy, wards, survival intellect)