Chapter Twelve: The Blessed Tomb of the Elemental Sage

Fishmael stood brooding atop the crumbling battlements of his ancient castle, his vampire cape tucked tightly around him to protect against the howling wind. It was really pretty cold and he really should have brought his sweater but he didn’t because vampires don’t need sweaters or jackets or even mittens because they are really cool. They can fly sometimes and turn into bats if they want and are REALLY strong. They could even beat up my dad who is super strong but I wouldn’t let them because I’d stop them with the kicks I learned in karate class. I would kill any vampire that tried to mess with my family, unless he promised to give me twenty bucks so I could get a wii points card. I don’t have enough points to get Strong Bad’s cool game for attractive people episode 2: Strong Badia the Free. If I were a vampire, no one at school would mess with me because I would benchpress like 200 pounds.

“It’s been a long time, Moustafa,” Fishmael said as the shroaded mouse entered.

“I bring ill news, Dark One. Herbert has been killed while defending the Time Egg from Organization Seventeen.”

“Who the hell is Herbert?”

“He’s one of the Boos that Tubba Blubba ate in the first Paper Mario game,” Moustafa said, on the verge of tears.

“Oh. Okay.”

“And he’s dead!”

“NO!!” Fishmael’s eyes glew bright red because that’s what happens when vampires get really upset. He punched a wall so hard that he broke his hand.

“Those buttheads aren’t going to get away with this!” Fishmael snarled, “I will eat all their blood and then throw them off of a house!”

“Wowf, faf is ritty ardoar”


“Sorry, I was eating an apple,” Moustafa apologized and put away his lunch. Sometimes, Moustafa gets hungry too. “I saying that’s pretty hardcore.”

“I know!”

“I will go with you and help! Moustafa said, readying his bo staff.

“Not this time, dear friend. I must go and avenge Herbert alone. It will be way more badass if I take them on all by myself, because I don’t need any help from anyone. I am pretty strong.”


“I am running out of time,” Fishmael said gazing at the moon, “The sun will rise soon.”

“The moon looks as said as your heart,” Moustafa said.

“The cursed life of a vampire is truly tragic, though immortal they may never feel the gentle love of the morning light. Damn this wreteched curse! The weight of guilt has become so strong since Rosalina was killed. If only it were not for this curse! So many years have flitted by and see how our world has plunged into the deepest darkness. The crimson tears will not stop as memories flood in again and again. What good is endless life if in it there is naught but despair? We have all played a role in this grief-riddled opera, but the cruelest twist of fate is that the sweet embrace of death may not be tasted until at last a penance has been made at long last.” Moustafa said.

“Yeah I know!” Fishmael said, “It’s a good thing you’re not a vampire like me!”


“Anyway, I’m gonna go kill them now. Seeya!”

Instantly Fishmael flew away into the sky, is cloak billowing under his cape dramatically in the twilight. But little did little did Fishmael know that he was only playing into Organization Seventeen’s trap. But that’s okay because Organization seventeen had no idea that they were playing into Fishmael’s trap too. As the Prophecy foretold. 


“I must say, this Shroom Steak looks delicious,” Jr. Troopa said as the waiter placed his plate in front of him.

“I agree that this Shroom Steak is delicious,” Bombette said as she emptied her laser pistol into Whacka’s face.  “Also, I’m really Bombette for real, no doubt about that, no question at all.”

“That’s for sure,” Jr. Troopa agreed.  “…Wait.”

There was an awkward pause as the two dinner partners stared at each other, while Whacka sputtered blood over the croissants as he writhed on the table in agony. 

“Something’s been bothering me…”

“Is it the croissants?  I can ask for more.”

“No…it’s not that.  WAIT.  WAIT A MINUTE!”

Jr. Troopa leaped onto the table and stomped on Tap-Tap the Golden’s chicken pot pie five times.  Then he pointed an accusatory finger at Bombette.


“And what makes you say that?”


“Oh.  Shit.”

Jr. Troopa crossed his arms, satisfied that he had seen through the cunning disguise.  He then kicked the remains of Tap-Tap the Golden’s pot pie off the table.


“Sorry, I just get overly excited.”

Bombette (But she’s not actually Bombette) cackled.  “Looks the jig is up!”  She took off her fake mustache and revealed herself to be…


“What?  No, I’m Bow.”


“You know why I’m here, Jr. Troopa,” Bow sneered as she spit in Tap-Tap the Golden Nose’s strawberry milkshake.  “The Prophecy states that the Parasol of Death is to be passed down from generation to generation.  And that includes the Ministers of Reckoning.” 

Jr. Troopa turned and glared viciously at Tap-Tap the Golden Nose for twenty minutes.  Then he turned back to Bow.

“Parasol of Death?  HA!”

“I DID NOT TELL A JOKE,” Bow snarled.  Whacka’s body twitched and Bow shot it eighty more times for good measure.  “We know you have the Parasol of Death, because you’re Jr. Troopa, for real!”

“Oh, is that so?”  Jr. Troopa chuckled.  “Behold, the element of SURPRISE!”  Jr. Troopa took off HIS fake mustache and revealed himself to be…

“You’re…you’re still Jr. Troopa.”


There was another awkward pause as Jr. Troopa attempted to put the fake mustache back on.  After it fell off for the third time, Bow got really tired of waiting.

“Enough fooling around!” Bow yelled.  She aimed her laser pistol and turned the lever to 30 on the 1-40 scale.

“Why are you pointing it at me?!”

“Whoops.  My bad.”

Bow awkwardly moved the laser pistol 90 degrees to the left away from Tap-Tap the Golden Nose, to where Jr. Troopa was sitting. 

“You’ll never succeed,” Jr. Troopa warned.  “I have allies everywhere.  Allies in locations you would never suspect.  They have really good disguises too, so you would not even know who they are, even if you looked at them.”

“So you’re saying…you’ve got allies here?  In this Christmas-themed diner rocket ship?”

“That’s right.”

Bow’s eyes darted around the festively decorated dining room.  Other spies?  Here?  But who were they?!  Where were they?!  HUH?  BUH?  WHUH?! 

“AHA!  I KNEW you looked suspicious!”  Bow shrieked as she pointed her laser pistol at Tap-Tap the Golden Nose.  “YOU WERE THE SPY!”


“Oh.  But.  If you’re not the spy…then…”

The kitchen doors swung open and the waiter from the first sentence entered the room dramatically.  Bow gasped as she saw who it was.



Axem Yellow ran toward the table with a murderous look in his eyes, pushing aside the astronaut Santa statues in a mad frenzy.  He unsheathed his katana and threw it five hundred feet across the room, where it landed in Whacka’s back.  He then grabbed Tap-Tap the Golden Nose’s table and threw it into Dark Chaos Space.  Then he had to run five hundred more feet and arrived at Bow and Jr. Troopa’s table, panting heavily.

“Axem Yellow,” Bow whispered.  “After all we’ve been through…you would betray me?”

“Actually, I’m just here to give you your complimentary dinner mints.  I hope you had a holly jolly meal!” 

Axem Yellow gave the two diners a cheerful wave and took his katana out of Whacka’s back.  He then walked five hundred feet back to the kitchen, setting the astronaut Santa statues up that he pushed over.


“So who was your spy then?”  Bow asked.

“Actually…I think it was Whacka.  Well, actually, that’s Daisy with a fake mustache, not Whacka.  Regardless, I probably should’ve taken the opportunity to run after that ridiculously elaborate distraction earlier.  Instead, I’ll just do this!”

Jr. Troopa took out the Inferno Gauntlet and punched a hole into Dark Chaos Space.  He leaped out, cackling maniacally with his purple cape fluttering behind him.  Then he realized he couldn’t breathe in Dark Chaos Space and died. 

Bow merely sighed in annoyance and reported to Organization Enigma.  The tides were now in their favor.  Even Belome wouldn’t be able to interfere. 

Meanwhile, Tap-Tap the Golden Nose was really hungry.


Boshi walked through Toad Town with his hands in his pockets. Wait, he doesn’t have pockets, never mind.  Boshi walked through Toad Town with his hands just sitting by his side.  He was thinking about the Chaos Door.

“I wonder what Merlon meant by ‘Those Cheesy, Goofy Openings’… Hmm…”

He looked up and saw Café 64, which was neat.  Then he turned around and saw a boat.

“Whoa, sweet, a boat!” he shouted.  It made him smile.  The boat went out to sea and he entered the Café.  WHAM! He bumped into Lakilulu, who flew back thirty feet and destroyed a juke box.  “Oh, I’m sorry, uh… durr…”

Lakilulu got up and dusted herself off.  She looked into Boshi’s sunglasses.  Her eyes were like two beautiful shining pearls that were black, and her hair was orange, like a carrot, except like a carrot that was really beautiful.  Not even a normal carrot.  She smiled.

“Err, hey, I like your, juke box… I MEAN, your hair is very, hot, and… FUCK!” Boshi muttered.

Lakilulu giggled.  “You’re pretty cute.”

Boshi’s heart got warm.  A bar fight broke out, but that’s not important right now.  “You… you think I’m c-cute?” Boshi blushed as Misstar bludgeoned Spitz with a wine bottle, killing him.

“Yeah, that’s why I said that.  I don’t know why I would say something like that if I didn’t think you were cute. That would be so awkward.” Lakilulu said.

“Heheh, yeah…” Boshi chuckled.


There was a two hour pause as Boshi twiddled his thumbs and thought of some way to sound super cool.  “I can control the darkne-“

“HEY! PAL!” shouted someone from the bar fight.

“Yo,” Boshi said.

“YOU’RE PART ORGANIZATION ENIGMA!!” the voice shouted.

“No, I’m actually a part of Organization Seventeen,” Boshi corrected.

“OH, SWEET,” the voice said.


“Just try it, short guy!” Boshi growled, unsheathing the Blade of Rainy Torment.

Rawk Hawk rose from his chair and pulled out four darkness-infused nun-chucks.  “TIME TO RAAAWK!”

Boshi gathered his energy, and was surrounded by a ring of energy.  The eight Dry Dry Runes glowed around him as the Seventeen Arch-angels sang a hymn about Mid Mushrooms.  “Battle strategy…” Boshi growled, his voice echoing through the darkness.  “CRESCENT BEAM TORNADO!!”  VWOOOOOOOOOOFFF!!  The tornado beam destroyed half of the bar and killed Fice T, Marilyn, Goompa, and Rawk Hawk.

“Whoa…” Lakilulu said.  “That was incredible!”

“D’aw, geez, it was nothing…” Boshi chuckled, scratching the back of his head.  “Just an old technique Tatanga taught me…”

The two looked into each others eyes.  Boshi found himself inching towards her, and saw she was doing the same.  He closed his eyes.

BANG!  Mouser shot Lakilulu in the head and killed her.

“Hey, dude!” Boshi spat.  “What are you doing!?”

“Huh?” Mouser said.

“I loved her!” Boshi yelled.

“Oh, whoops, my bad,” Mouser said.  “Anyway, the prophecy is almost fulfilled, did you gather the stones?”

“Yeah, most of them…” Boshi fished in his knapsack.  “Wait… Oh, no, I forgot. Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Mouser said.  “Come on, let’s go do that.”

“Sounds good,” Boshi smiled.  “Let’s go…”

The two walked into the sunset as Boshi secretly planted a Belome-shaped bug on the back of Mouser’s neck.   “I’d never betray you, old chum!”


The Jonathan Jones Memorial Restaurant and Bar was packed to the brim with eight people, one of them convulsing violently on the floor due to a seizure.  Funky Kong gingerly stepped over Grodus’s thrashing, flailing body and made his way over to where Kooper sat, drinking milk from a dirty glass.

“Organization Enigma doesn’t suspect a thing,” Funky Kong snickered as he lit a cigar made of platinum.

“I’M part of Organization Enigma.”

“Oh.  Uh.”

Funky Kong awkwardly got up from his stool.  He then took a few of Kooper’s crazy curly fries and tripped over Grodus, who was still twitching on the floor.  After going back to get some more of Kooper’s really tasty curly fries, he walked over to Crystal King, who was drinking his fifteenth Bloody Mary.

“Crystal King.  I thought you were dead.”

“Oh, actually, I am, but this is a flashback.”

“…Oh.” Funky puzzled over this for fifteen minutes and finally just shrugged.  “Well, uh, anyway.  Organization Enigma doesn’t suspect a thing.  Everything is going according to plan.”

“Let’s just hope our agent doesn’t let us down,” Crystal King muttered.  “Otherwise, we lose the Scroll of Nightfall to the Order of the Crying Fire Flower.”

“Who’s actually IN the Order of the Crying Fire Flower?”

“I don’t actually…know.”

Suddenly, the lights went off in the bar and groovy-time disco lights began flashing around the room.  Luma was in da’ house fo’ real.

“AWWW YEAAAH LES’ GET DIS’ PAH-TY STARTED BOYEEEE,” MC Luma howled.  He scratched the turn tables five thousand times in a row, showing off his hipster styles and his mad skillz. 

An hour passed.

“O…okay, phew, that was really tiring.  I did not even take one break…PHEW.  Man, I am tuckered out.  Let’s-“

But too many hipster styles had been shown off.  MC Luma gasped and hacked blood all over his Turnz Tablez Eightyz Thouzand 80,000.  “…Let’s get this party started.”   

Luma crumpled over the TTET80,000 shivering violently.  Letting out a shuddering sob, he whispered, “Hooktail, my darling …I never got to tell you how much I loved-“


Everyone clapped and cheered really loudly because the party got started and they were so excited for the rap battle.  Funky ate seven chili dogs because he was really hungry from all the excitement and because he really liked chili dogs.  More than ice cream, even!

The two rap battle contestants entered the bar.  Dr. Topper popped his collar and rode his golden Segway towards the stage.  He tried to ride the Segway up the stairs for a solid fifteen minutes until he finally decided to just walk up onto the stage awkwardly.

On the other side of the room, Chuck Quizmo made his way through the crowd and gently nudged aside a frothing Grodus as he stood up next to Dr. Topper.  The two rap rivals glared at each other viciously.  Dr. Topper licked his lips vigorously to try and inspire fear and immediately regretted his decision because it just looked really awkward. 

Chuck Quizmo grabbed the mic and began to speak to the crowd.  “Before I begin this rap, I’d like to dedicate this song in memoriam of Jonathan Jones.”

“I’m…I’m right here, guys!  Why does everyone think I’m dead-“



Crystal King leaned over to whisper to Funky.  “Now remember, we need to figure out which of these two is our agent and which one is Organization Enigma’s.  They’ll be delivering messages through rap code, which, as you know from the Prophecy, is the most deadly and important code of all.  We need to stay focused, alright?”

Funky shook his head grimly.  Then he realized he was supposed to agree and nodded grimly.

On stage, Chuck Quizmo took a deep breath and gazed upon the audience.  Then he started his rap:

Yo, I’m Chuck Quizmo, the super stylin’ g.

My posse is the  numba’ twenty minus three.

Those other dudes are lamers, disgraceful, a stigma.

Hey, Crystal King and Funky, I am not from Enigma!

Chuck Quizmo finished his rap and flashed a few gang signs followed by a triumphant thumbs up.  Everyone cheered as Chuck sat down at a nearby table and made meaningful eye gestures towards Crystal King and Funky.

“Hmmmmmmm,” Funky hmmed.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmm,” Crystal King shouted.

“Yeah, I have no idea which side he’s on,” Funky concluded.  “I need some more time to crack the rap code.”

“Well, let’s wait and see if Dr. Topper can clear things up for us.”

Dr. Topper looked nervously at the crowd.  Gallons of sweat poured down his pants.  He popped his second collar to try and ease his nerves, but that did not work somehow.  Resigned, he grabbed the mic.

“Uh…I’d also, uh, like to dedicate this rap to Jonathan J-“


“S-sorry.  I’m just gonna, uh, I guess I’ll start now.”  Dr. Topper mopped the sweat from his pants and started his rap.

Yo, I’m Chu-I mean, I’m Dr. Topper, the super stylin’ g.

My posse is the uh, the numba’ twen-um, uh, ummm enigma.

“You can’t just copy MY lyrics!”

I’m-I’m sorry, uh, these other dudes-no, uh, gosh, ummm crap, crap, crap, hold on.  These othe-no, I mean, er, uhhhh, come on, these-I’M FROM ORGANIZATION ENIGMA!!!

There was an awkward single clapping noise which turned out to be just Grodus’ skull rapidly bashing a nearby table leg.  Dr. Topper popped his third collar for good measure and then rode to the back of the room on his golden Segway.  For the most part, he thought he had done pretty well.

Crystal King stroked his beard in deep thought.  Since he didn’t have a beard, he ended up just stroking his cloak uncomfortably instead.

“I wanna say he’s Order of the Crying Fire Flower.”

“I’m completely clueless,” Funky said.  “I never realized rap code could be so intricate and magical.”

“ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS?!”  Jonathan Jones shrieked as he pulled out his katana crossbow from behind them.  “DR. TOPPER IS FROM ORGANIZATION ENIGMA!  HE CLEARLY STATED HE WAS FROM ORGANIZATION ENIGMA!”

“Jonathan Jones!”  Crystal King gasped.  “I thought you were dead!”

“Oh, for the love of-“

“Wait a minute!”  Funky shouted.  “I’ve got it!  I think Jonathan Jones is our agent!”


Jonathan Jones aimed his katana crossbow at Funky when suddenly a wave of chaos energy soared across the room and cut off his head.  Kooper placed his dark scythes back in their holsters and crossed his arms in triumph.

“Uh, Kooper, you do realize that he was on your side, right?”  Crystal King asked delicately.

“Oh, really?  Whoops.”

Kooper sat down in his seat and continued eating his curly fries.  Everyone sat around the table and dug in and they were so busy eating that they didn’t notice Grodus bumping into several tables, knocking over a glass pitcher of lemonade juice, and grabbing the Scroll of Nightfall from the stage.  As he rode away on the golden Segway, Grodus cackled to himself.

“The Order of the Crying Fire Flower will surely be pleased.”

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