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Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) [CLOSED]

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Cerillium
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New York Times Democracy

Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) [CLOSED]

Postby Cerillium » Sun Sep 20, 2015 3:23 pm

Last edited by Cerillium on Mon Feb 13, 2017 5:19 pm, edited 7 times in total.

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Cerillium
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Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Sun Sep 20, 2015 5:17 pm

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Prolegomenon


It started with a whimper, as these things are wont to do. None heard it.

The whimper spiraled into a whine, and that took flight into a serious of groans. By now, a few had become Aware.

Neste, just out of bed for a cup of tea, curled into the overstuffed leather chair and breathed vapors off her cup as she watched raindrops gently patter down the front window's glass. The water marred the cityscape, streaking the vibrant lights and obscuring the view of the harbor. Ships sailed somewhere out there but, for the first time in her existence, the little lizard didn't need to send her imagination in pursuit of them. She was content for once, for the first time, for the first of many times to come. The bergamot orange scent rising from the cup tickled her nostrils and she suppressed a sneeze lest she wake her slumbering lover. The effort caused her eyes to briefly flutter closed and, during that time, the Building jumped and with it went several local Eldritch haunts.

The Building was prone to doing such things. It wasn't uncommon for it to shift through Time and Space for no other reason that a bad case of gas or a craving for authentic Atlantian bread. This time was strangely different. It had lifted its skirts to expose its pipes (thereby proving once and for all it was male) before plunging out of the dimension. All dimensions. Because fuck you.

Sandy, with ears clever enough to hear things others shouldn't, was on the verge of slipping into dreams when the grumbling became madcap laughter, a swirling waltz played on a music box too tightly wound. The metal tines seemed to strike the pins roughly, causing the notes to be sharp tinks rather than a pleasant chime. The tinks tightened, the drum spun, and the tines snapped off to leave some notes entirely missing. And still the laughter persisted, and the Building slipped into the Void.

Neste's dropped cup shattered upon the hardwood floor, sloshing its contents across the carpet and splatting her legs. Although she (and the other Residents) couldn't hear the music, the view unsettling. The Void was never pleasant; It was only the Building's properties that kept the Insanity at bay. Her bare feet slapped the floor as she sprinted to the bedroom. Sharp reptilian talons caught the jamb and she skidded to arm's length to bark out alarm.

"Septimus! Wake up!"

Her fuzzy bathrobe fluttered to the floor and, nude, she rifled through her closet to select the first pair of pants and a shirt that met her fingers. These things were thrown on in haste, and with a small amount of confusion. Jeans never fit well when tails get in their way. The flummoxed construct had no time to ponder it, nor the sudden return of the plumes that crested her head each autumn, for the view outside the bedroom window was more horrific than the one glimpsed before. She brought the seat of the jeans to her mouth and white teeth flashed. It would do for the present. She pushed her snout through a fluffy sweater's collar and pulled the material down over her breasts just in time to see that they'd slipped from the Void and into someplace entirely different. Her processor scrambled to find an identifiable channel and then, much to her surprise, detected wisps of communications.

"Septimus, hurry!"

She was gone in a flash, back to the living room, back to the chair, and back to the window that once held the blissful ocean but now looked out onto fog-concealed grassy meadows dotted with sheep. Lots and lots of sheep.

"Se-"

SLAM!

The impact caused cupboard doors to fly open and spill their contents. Residents were shaken out of their beds and roughly deposited on their floors. Ocho, a creature prone to sleeping with his claws dug into his wooden frame, was dislodged (perch and all) from the top of his sleeping loft. Even those lovely Eldritch apartments were not spared. The Luxans would find many broken things inside their lair, the location of which had been tucked behind an apartment door. The Raptors, too, had suffered the same fate, as had the Chaos Quarters.

Poor Minerva. Nash had finally stopped squalling, his tummy filled with formula, when the Building landed. It was all Minerva could do to hold onto him as her legs buckled and dropped her to her knees. She cried out in pain and then spewed profanities that Nash had never heard. His face screwed up into a bawling rage that intensified as his father charged into the room.

"Was zum Teufel?!" Klaus hated being out of the loop. Something dreadful had happened. Something dreadful had caught Chaos with its pants down. "Rudolf!"

The summoned Man scrambled from the sink tap and arrived in time to find Nash thrust into his arms.

"Guard him. Guard our Sophie," the growl was an unmistakable order from the god-avatar.

"Herr Klaus, I must report..."



Neste's claws dug into the window ledge as she pulled herself from the floor. The Building had come to a rest. The meadows remained but now she could see things running through them. No, not things -- people. they were pouring from a hamlet across the green acre and, judging by their state of dress they had been awoken from their slumber. It was a riddle quickly solved once her enhanced eyes picked up movement within the distant trees. Her mouth unhinged as the forest rippled to life. A line of creatures broke from cover to pursue their innocent victims across the moonlit grass.

Oh, innocent they indeed were. The construct could taste it. Their fear was likewise genuine. She stared, agog, as a human man tripped and the creatures set upon him, shredding his limbs and tearing them from his body.

"ALARM!" Protocols kicked into overdrive. "Ad bellum! Scel veniant et mortem nostram!"



The front desk cultist grumbled as he picked up the scattered copies of The Underworld Times. They'd been ruined by his coffee cup.

CRACK!


He turned to find people pressed against the front door glass. "Vas is-"

The Chaos Quarters door slammed open and Klaus charged forward. "LET THEM IN! GO! They'll be crushed against the doors. Let them all in!"

The front desk cultist vaulted over the counter and lobby chairs. Fingertips alighted on the lock fob, twisting it, and frightened humanity surged forward into sanctuary.



Minerva did not beg Bran's pardon as she bypassed Charumati's security system and kicked in his front door. His was the only PA system for the Building. Once again adorned in her customary leather, she looked every bit too imposing to be trifled with.

"Bran! Rylli! Arm yourselves!" she shouted towards the bedrooms before slipping into the intercom station and hiking up the chair.

The intercom warmed to life and Minerva counted the heartbeats until the old equipment was sufficiently powered enough to toggle the microphone. Feedback blared throughout the Building, squealing into bedrooms and bathrooms and closets and Eldritch locations. "Attention Residents," the cold words were snarled through clenched teeth. "We are under attack. Healer Group, report to the Communal Dining Room immediately. All medically trained personnel report to the Communal Dining Room. All armed Residents, and Lads and Men, prepare to defend and assault. This is not a drill. This is not a drill."

She left Bran and Rylli to prepare. The Lobby was already filled with people by time she arrived, and the room had expanded to accommodate them.

"We're from East Fork," a rumpled man was hastily explaining to Klaus. "We're the closest. There's more coming from West Bend. That's the village proper, North Warnborough. The Fiends come and we've been begging the UAC for months to put a garrison out here. They won't stop until they're driven back."

He pointed out the Building door to where a large line was crossing the grassy lawns. Minerva's eyes widened. Fiends - they should be called abominations! Dog-sized, rat-like creatures with maws bristling with needle shaped teeth. They propelled their bulky bodies forward with muscular limbs. She had seen worse in her time but seldom had she witnessed anything so numerous outside of a daemon swarm.

"Are they toxic?" she butted in to the conversation.

"N-no, madam. They bite, though, and there's a lot of them and-"

Minerva's lip curled. "Then they'll die."

A considerable amount of Residents had begun to gather in the Lobby. Klaus climbed onto the reception desk to shout over the din. His eyes roamed the upturned faces and he nodded. Good. This was good.

"Attention please!" he clapped his hands for emphasis. "The Building has shifted dimensions. There is not time to explain. We are needed here. The people you see here are refugees. Their village was attacked by a swarm of predators -- Fiends -- and these predators are at our gates. Neste, Ocho, FUBAR, take with you as many rugged Residents as will follow. Punch a hole, xenos. There's another wave of refugees on the way, also pursued by Fiends, and this first swarm stands in the way of their safety. The rest of us will tackle the enemy in our front yard.

"The healers will set up a makeshift clinic - oh, gutentag, Ogoti, so nice of you to finally join us - and all injured villagers and Residents will be brought there. Brit, confound it girl, where are you?! Oh, there you are. Organize the medics and healers. Giovenith, I need you here in the lobby. Form a welcoming party. Get these people moved to the library. It will expand. Hurry, people. There's not much time to spare."
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There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Swith Witherward
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Sun Sep 20, 2015 6:14 pm

Neste's eyes narrowed in affirmation of Klaus' request. A soft body pressed against her back and Nila's plaintive warble indicated her presence. It had been a long time since either lizard had seen combat on this scale. Both were determined to fulfill whatever destiny awaited them.

There wasn't time for tender partings between lizard and cyborg. If he didn't know by know that she loved him... well, Neste knew he knew. It was as simple as that.

"Nila, prep for harsh amalgamation."

The processors embedded in their minds began to sequence as they linked with the powerful exoskeletons that had pushed through the Building's back door and climbed around the structure's sides. The Fiends were beginning to swarm just off the flagstones, hesitant perhaps to approach the new thing that had dropped into their world. Their reluctance would buy the Residents some time, but not much.

"Never thought I'd see the day where I'd fight alongside you silly bitches," Ocho stripped off his suit jacket to give his powerful arms more freedom. Further wisecracks were cut short as both lizards pulled off their clothing to wade through the teeming masses. This shit was real. They were going to merge. That meant their A game. Although perhaps it wouldn't be quite as Nifid-level harsh as he was accustomed to. Neste had raised her delicate hand in the air to flip him off before squeezing through the front door. The gesture was rather personable.

Neste's raised arm was grasped by Scel, pulling her upward towards the creature latched onto the Building's side. The exo's midsection split and tendrils writhed outward to pull her in. It would take several moments for her to reach her life support pod, but it was Scel's job to place her. Her mind remained remarkably calm, even as the sharp interface needles pierced her ports. Her only regret was her failure to service the two damaged pairs. Perhaps there would be time later, if Septimus was willing to work on them. The thought drifted away. She was no longer Neste, nor was she Scel. She was Malice, and Malice was about to be very busy.

Ocho burst from the front doors and vaulted over the steps, taking it at a four-limbed run. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and found FUBAR moving to intercept him. The large Drone would take point, and Ocho fell along behind it as they burst through the first wave of Fiends.

The Exos rushed forward to flank the pair, driving away Fiends foolish enough to snap at Ocho's heels or to attack any Residents that had fallen in with them.

"Scan complete. FUBAR, adjust your course as follows..."

Neste's voice broadcasted itself into the teams' minds, no apology made for the intrusion. Imagery accompanied the words, a mockup headcount for the villagers as well as hundreds of dots to indicate each Fiend. They'd reach them within five minutes, if they kept up their current speed. Ocho grunted in affirmation although the communication was greatly distorted due to his physiology; his alien brain(s) left him no means to reply.

They pressed onward, unobstructed by the low rock walls framing each farmer's field. The first wave of Fiends remained to harass the Building, and the second wave had yet to be spotted. Ocho's ears soon picked up the frightened cries of the villagers, however, and he pushed himself to gallop faster.

They crested a low hill. The small valley below them was abuzz with activity. The villagers were fleeing on foot but a large throng of Fiends was giving chase. Malice sneered. It was time to work.

"NLA, fall back. We'll send the villagers your way. Protect their retreat to the Building. Ocho, with me. The rest of you can sort yourselves as you see fit. Mind where you use your weapons. I shall be most displeased if struck by friendly fire."

Nila's exo halted at the last stone wall, but Ocho and FUBAR bound forward. The thade's lungs filled with clean air as he barreled along his course, bypassing the villagers.

At first, they thought something new had come to claim their souls, but they quickly realized that the newcomers were, in fact, allies. Their hearts gladdened at the realization, and spurred them onward. There were only a hundred or so, mainly agricultural workers that tended fields at night. Their wives and children would undoubtedly have shuttered their doors and windows when the warning bells first rang. They raised their eyes to locate the old ruins in the distance, and found the crumbling structures replaced by the Building. Onward they went, glad to have distance between them and the Fiends.

FUBAR shuddered as the monsters impacted his hull. Their strength was their numbers and they applied it liberally. It shook off several that had clamped onto his weapon arm, then seared the rest as he fired his first volley into the throng. The sickening sweet stench of burnt flesh rose up to the heavens as the blue beam traveled a stead course. Fish in a barrel, but only if one was built to withstand the entire school jumping on them when firing.

Malice likewise found herself engulfed by bodies, although those quickly dropped off to convulse on the wet grass as her neurtoxic fluids ravaged the membranes of their mouths. She lashed out with her great claws, swiping Fiends off their feet and batting them to the ground.
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Highfort
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Founded: May 11, 2014
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Highfort » Sun Sep 20, 2015 6:42 pm

"Septimus! Wake up!"

Septimus shook in his sleep. Usually dreamless when he was particularly tired - as was expected following the extravagant meal he and Neste had prepared for the good Doctor - he felt his mind being assaulted by all manner of strange images. His processor, perhaps? No, the kind construct had silenced it a while ago and even such a cunning machine could not come up with the afflictions which manifested in his mind.

He turned over, ignoring Neste's call and attempting to calm himself.

"Septimus, hurry!"

Bleary eyes cracked open just in time for the hapless body of the cyborg to be lifted from the comforting mattress and sheets before being propelled forward, slamming into the hardwood floor in front of him. His nose was, luckily, spared of any significant injury though his limbs only felt more tired and ungainly as he righted himself and shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. What in the Confederation's name was going on?

Quickly running into the living room, still only clothed in his red and gold pajamas, Septimus found himself beholding an impossible sight. His window, which had once looked out over the vast expanse of the Market District he had been elected to represent, was now providing him with a lush and pastoral view of meadows. He would've smiled had the description ended there, confused as he was.

His cyborg eye zoomed and clicked, focusing on the running shapes below and the angry, feral shapes following them. Neste punctuated the thought that was quickly dawning on him:

"ALARM! Ad bellum! Scel veniant et mortem nostram!"

Bellum? So it was war, then. Septimus offered a nod as he dragged himself back to the bedroom, limbs protesting as he grabbed for his old Confederation robes and belt, the scarf wrapping around his neck before he donned stiff boots. Though the cyborg wasn't much good at war - not without his augmentations and tools that made him a feared torturer and killing machine - there were many other jobs on the front lines that didn't pertain to discharging a weapon.

"Attention Residents. We are under attack. Healer Group, report to the Communal Dining Room immediately. All medically trained personnel report to the Communal Dining Room. All armed Residents, and Lads and Men, prepare to defend and assault. This is not a drill. This is not a drill."

The words crackled through the speaker Septimus didn't even know was set up in his apartment and he was off, then. Neste had her assignments; Septimus needed to find his.

Heavy boots clacked on concrete as the Building subtly shifted itself before Septimus' eyes. Of course, it would always take on the form the Resident found most pleasing and it continued to do so even under fire. There was a terrible grace to it, how it transformed itself from the minimalism that Septimus admired in peacetime to the concrete corridors and dim lights that he felt at home with during war.

Bunkers were secure locations. Bunkers protected people. That was what the Building was, a bunker - a safe haven from whatever was chasing those people out of their homes and villages.

"Let's face it, Septimus," Brutus set down a still-smoldering pipe filled with whatever concoction the Consul had decided was appropriate for smoking, "We're going to lose a lot of good people. That's war, you know that as well as I do."

"Then we hold," he replied simply, tapping on the hologram in front of him made solid at the whims of the Board, "The bunkers, they will sustain against prolonged assault and we can ferry in the civilians to minimize friendly fire while we prepare alternatives."

"They will be lost, eventually. The civilians will have to be evacuated off-world and if we hold at the bunkers we'll have no way to consolidate our own troops to evacuate with them." Brutus eyed him warily, "For what gain? Fewer civilians dead? A few more hours holding a doomed world?"

Septimus' eye twinkled as gestured at the hundreds of dots and the map zoomed out to illustrate the extensive bunker network across Kashtilag, "If this is the end and our home is doomed, Brutus, we can at least say we held out longer."


Finding himself in the lobby - now resembling more a floodgate filled with refugees and Residents alike - Septimus overheard Klaus clapping his hands and dishing out orders. With no weapon and little experience healing rather than dissecting people, he turned to the refugees crowding into the lobby.

"You!" he took up a position next to Klaus on the reception desk, hoping that the dapper officer didn't mind, before pointing out a farmhand with a thinning head of a hair and a grouchy disposition, "Follow Giovenith and take your family! She should be in shortly; follow her if you want to get out of here alive!"

"Medics, I want a triage station set up in the lobby so we can treat people when they come in; everyone who's not in immediate need of assistance, you'll be seen at the clinic and we'll have medics roaming the library!" he gestured at the assembly of Residents, "I want guards on that door at all times, melee weapons only! We're not firing into the refugees!"

More people poured in, Fiends at their heels, as the doors of the Building struggled to stay attached against the weight of the sea of villagers and farmers desperately scrambling inside for cover.

"Klaus, I'll take it from here if you're needed elsewhere," the cyborg offered him a nod before turning back toward the crowd, "Do not wait for your families in the lobby! You are crowding the entrance and the triage area; move out of the way once you're clear of the doors! Move!"
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Torsiedelle
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Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Sun Sep 20, 2015 7:40 pm

"Oh, shit! Not the good plates! What about the TV?"

Katya was distraught by the crashing and booming, which had left a good portion of their belongings scattered around the floor. She was cursing and whining all the while as Torii turned over. She was restless, and annoyed.

When the call to arms came up, it was so sudden that Katya simply stopped to stare out the window. She had to think over what had been said again. Torii, however, was instantly on the floor, kicking off her shorts and slipping on her old pair of fatigues and combat boots. "Get a move on!", She snapped at her older sister, who was still confused as the marksman rifle was tossed her way. She was lucky to grab it, but had little time to speak up as her little sister stomped on by, AK-74 in one hand. "I'm sure the bayonet will fit this. They're basically the same barrel. Where is it?"

Katya shrugged. She was starting to snap back into it as she walked over to pull out ammo crates. Torii ignored her and rummaged through quickly to pick out the blade. She ran over, snatched a few magazines out of the box Katya was looking in, and ran out. Katya had to grab this and that, and get her nerves together before following after her. She realized that Torii had left her handgun, so she stuffed that into her blazer pocket and ran out.

Random civilians were the last thing she needed to go through. Torii yelled and waved her rifle at the people, making her way through. She stepped just out the door and looked to see what was going on. She was surprised to see that it was just animals, but she was still cautious. If they would run a bunch of people inside, then they deserved to be taken somewhat seriously. She fired a few rounds off, dropping two, and backed up to the doorway again. Katya stayed back a few feet, ready to fire if anything got too close.
Last edited by Torsiedelle on Mon Sep 21, 2015 4:00 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Primordial Luxa
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Founded: Oct 30, 2012
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Primordial Luxa » Sun Sep 20, 2015 7:52 pm

The Luxans were immediately preoccupied by the sudden shift in the dimensional state of the universe. Their apartment was tossed about causing many fragile and dangerous things to shatter around them. Primordial used the hands of the All in Ones to hold many things in place and stop anything incredibly lethal from occurring. However Aegis did have to beat a lesser spirit into submission after it struggled out of a painting it was imprisoned in, while Insidious used the dust of some ground up pixies to return a malevolent ghost which had escaped from the psychic quark heart. Eventually when they had a chance to catch their breath they were able to survey the real damage.

“We lost the Zero point gibbous lances, so we don’t have any offensive weapons for the DEiMOS’s exterior.” Aegis said “Something else is interfering with the places teleportation capabilities. Im not sure if we can go anywhere, I…I think we’ve become a victim of the annihilating dimensional survivor effect. We’re not going anywhere soon.”

“We lost the Staff of the Sea, the Yithian Force Field and the Graven image, looks like they slipped out of a spatial crack during the transition we might be able to recover them if where lucky. But the Chime of Tezchaptl, Mood flatteners and Thumb screws were completely destroyed it will take a lot of energy to repair or salvage them.” Insidious said

It was at this point that Neste’s description of the situation reached the Luxans. A series of villagers and fiends being attacked won’t normally be something the Luxan’s would deal with. Typically they would let the fiends eat them all while laughing about it and recording it for entertainment purposes. But their time here had given them the stoutest fledgling of a conscious, not that any of the Luxans liked it but none the less they sighed and went off the help.


“Have at thee!” Aegis said as he leapt into the fray of malignant bodies alongside Malice and FUBAR. His mask had clicked and whirred into the form of a snarling enraged beast and his shadowed eyes made darting glances about him as he surveyed the animalistic formation of his foe. “Greeting comrades, are they warm or cold blooded?” he asked joyfully. The Luxan trampled many of the creatures with his size alone smashing them to a pulp with his hands and legs like a charging elephant with his raw mass. He wadded forward putting him at risk of getting surrounded but he didn’t seem to mind too much as the trail of flatten and snapped enemies showed. However it was obvious that the creatures where more numerous than he had first suspected and it was not long before his thick cloak was covered not only in viscous stains but also tears and gashes.


Primordial waved a hand and pushed the villagers which Septimus was yelling into the rooms adjoining the lobby with his magical manipulation of gravity. He was a little a little forceful but he wasn’t really concerned about comfort at a time like this. “I can guard the door Septimus.” He said “Good job taking the lead.” He reached out again and closed his open palm into a fist violently turning those fiends which had gotten into the lobby into messy pulps. “I sent Aegis outside to deal with the fighting and Insidious should be here soon with medical supplies and ReAnima.”


“Raise your hand if you’re lost a limb.” Insidious said as she pushed a chart full of vat grown body parts out of the elevator and into one of the side rooms. “Also could someone lend a hand and grab the buckets of blood in that are still in the elevator? We’ll need that for the transfusions and mending process.” Insidious immediately went about injecting anyone corpse like with ReAnima which would reanimate and fully heal anything which had died within the last ten minutes. She also handed out syringes of it to people near those who looked worse for the wear and told them to administer it if they stopped breathing. Once she was done with that she began pulling hands, feet and flesh out of the large cart and using a spool of hair taken from ensorcelled babies began sewing people back together Frankenstein style. All the while she made very inappropriate disembodiment jokes about “giving this man a hand” and “not being half the man he used to be”.
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The BranRiech
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Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Sun Sep 20, 2015 7:55 pm

Having been rudely awakened from their mid-night snuggles, Bran and Rylli angrily sat on the floor, unable to tell exactly what had happened. Without much they could glean from the inside of their secluded bomb-shelter, the couple quickly dragged themselves to their feet. Both of them were in a mild-state of undress, with Bran wearing a simple pair of boxers, and Rylli's form adorned with a loose t-shirt and some athletic-shorts.

Over the silence of them standing there, Bran spoke up, in their native-Russian.

"Rylli, get dressed." He whispered to her, the language almost sounding foreign to him after so many years.

The two got to work, Bran taking a few seconds to at least admire his beautiful wife, blushing somewhat as she dressed herself. Bran's clothes were arranged in a haphazard pile next to the bed, so getting dressed was as simple as pulling his jeans on, and slipping into a T-shirt. His trench-coat soon followed after.

While Rylli was fumbling around with her own pants, Bran had already turned on the lights, illuminating the drab, corrugated walls of their bedroom, when a large thud sounded, jolting the two Branriechians to attention. "Bran! Rylli! Arm yourselves!" Minerva's voice echoed through the chambers, bringing the call to action right to the couple's ears. They wasted no time in bolting. "That was Minerva." Bran hissed softly, their footsteps clacking on the hard-concrete floor of the hallway. Instead of taking a right and heading towards the main room where Minerva's voice had originated from, they both took a sharp left and entered the locked storage room.

"The service-rifles will have to do, they're the only one's I've got a supply of rounds for, grab one and a couple of mags each." Bran instructed.

"Yeah, alright." Rylli nodded quickly, crouching down to pop open a dusty old box adorned with Cyrillic writing, as well as a large "7.62-АДК-45" emblazoned over the lid. With a grunt, and a tug, the loose nails on the box gave way, having been sealed for the better part of a few years. Inside, the shiny glint of the ceiling-light bounced off of the never-touched magazines for the old Branriechian rifles.

--

A few minutes had passed, and the lobby was absolutely full of people, scared and confused.

"Agh. We're never getting through this crowd." Bran sighed, hopping up a few times to get a good look over the refugees. "What the fuck is this all about even?" He snarled, rifle slung around his shoulder, similar to how Rylli carried her own rifle. Both of them were well-laden down with ammunition, and eager to defend their home after the warning had been issued. "Bran, start pushing." Rylli whispered in his ear, a few strands of their hair tangling together. "We have to get outside with the others."

"Coming through, out of the way!"

Bran's heavily-accented tired voice shouted over the din, as only someone from Eastern Europe could. The crowd of disheveled masses was imposing, but it was still made up of individuals. Individuals who proved incredibly easy to gently ease out of the way as the two created a small path to the main door, where they caught glimpses of their enemies. Instantly, Bran was thrown back in time, remembering the beasts he'd encountered when he was whisked off to Monfrox's home nation, where they were assailed by horrifying beasts.

This was an enemy they could fight!

"Bran, love ya'" Rylli chided, raising the rifle as they passed the threshold, entering the outside air.

"Love you too." He looked over to his wife, admittedly sexy when she was carrying a large rifle. More or less at the same time, the two raised their weapons, and took aim at their first targets. They'd stopped just short of attacking the apartment doors directly, giving them a good bit of distance to shoot at.

As they scanned for their marks, Bran and Rylli noticed a number of apartment-goers were already out in the front, fighting off the vicious monsters.

Without further ado, the rifle barrels lit up, and a swarm of angry lead was unleashed upon a small grouping of the things, striking them down with true Soviet-efficiency, which meant a spray of fire guaranteed that the beasts would not be getting up again.

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Giovenith
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Posts: 19639
Founded: Feb 08, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Sun Sep 20, 2015 8:01 pm

Giovenith did not waste time babbling in confusion, questions, or fear. She'd been among the Residents long enough to know there wasn't time to be a lost bunny when shit went down, no time for awe or gasps at their extraordinary circumstances. Only time to act. The godling acted by scrambling atop one of the higher up steps in the lobby, high enough to be over the crowd but low enough to still be visible. She wore a look of cold determination as she pulled a megaphone from her pocket, which quickly shifted to professional cheer as she spoke through it.

"Hellooooooooo everybody!" she called over the megaphone, trying to get the crowd's attention. "Room and safety are in the library, which you can find by following the glowing markers lining the way as shown!"

Immediately upon saying that, she released a small flurry of paper birds from her pockets, each with a tiny, but obtrusively noticeable flashing lights, taking positions near and far along the hallways to indicate the path to the library.

"I repeat, there is room and safety in the library, please follow the path!" she announced again, before shoving the megaphone back into her pocket and jumping over the rail to floor. "This way, come on everybody! It's safe in here!" she yelled again to nearby refugees, before racing down the lit-up hall toward the library. It was her hope that when enough of them were following, by crowd instinct, the rest would pool in after them as well. That was the first step.
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Fvaarniimar
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Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Sun Sep 20, 2015 8:05 pm

When the intercom had gone off, Nick had been climbing the walls. He had, in fact, been alternating between those activities following being woken by extreme uneasiness and his subsequent wish that he had remained in bed... and then utter terror...

- UNDER ATTACK? Wha - HOW? Could he... He looked out the window and knew that he couldn't.

He couldn't really clean or bandage wounds. He thought back to Brit... Wait. It had hurt her. Some wounds hurt a lot. Sitches likely would.
Unbidden, the Carnival sprang to mind...specifically, facing off against the girl with the scalpel. At the end, hadn't he kept the illusion from being broken by the pain of the scratches?

...Could he do that without the Carnival? Well...he did it to prey, didn't he? It was upsetting when they suffered, so...so they didn't.

Would it work on a human? He ran for the elevator. Fortunately he could probably reach the kitchen in his sleep...the dining room was nearby, right? Oh. It was where everyone still on this floor was running.

As he skidded to a stop, Nick loudly used the collar.
"I'm not trained and not certain, but I think I can anes - uh, block their pain."

Kwa'a had risen early, and was finishing a shirt for Rmwtyliin (deep blue cotton, stretchy.) A pair of drawstring-waist denim pants sat nearby.

When the alarm went off, she grabbed her nice sling and - for good measure - every utensil in the kitchen which she could carry and thought would work well. She only would use one (she selected a huge iron skillet) - others would need weapons...

And then she heard footsteps and ran out, clattering.

Rmwtyliin had been fast asleep when the building had landed, as had Duncan. The latter was knocked off a dresser as the Building landed, pillow and Duncan soaring through the air to...their anticlimactic fate of whacking the girl in the face. "Emm? Emm, stop...." and she woke, and realized that she was not home even though it was nice here... And that her translator was crawling all over her face, resulting in the tickling.

And then a dung-covered noisy speech amplifier was sounded... She was irritated until Duncan , and then she was running around grabbing fabric. And some herbs from the kitchen which smelled useful...

Something made her check the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Things she didn't recognize...things she did. Four bottles of oil-and-resin smelling like a medicinal nutcase - that is of menthol and camphor. Some yarrow, an import. She bundled it all, tied it with a cord, and rushed out, to be intercepted...

Kwa'a freaked out upon seeing Rmwtyliin apparently about to head off to fight. The kid was a pacifist! She didn't have weapons...

"Move! I must join the healers!" Not for the first time, she ruminated as to her charge's mysterious background - the kid sounded downright imperious and Kwa'a actually started to step aside - then stopped. If nothing else the girl would take a pan... Wait...

"Didn't you sleep in that?" Not waiting for an answer, she bustled her charge into 9C and handed her the new items. The shirt was half-hemmed; that was alright. Rmwtyliin looked really puzzled. Right.

"If your hands and clothes aren't clean the people you help could get really sick later." The bathroom had antibacterial soap. "Use that. Carry these. Change. I'd explain but - well, I will later."

Long before Duncan finished translating, Rmwtyliin's hands were lathered up and under the faucet. As he finished and Rmwtyliin started disrobing, Kwa'a grabbed a scrap of the blue and cut a rectangle with four tabs to tie it on.

Duncan needed to go with the girl, and his outfit had not been changed in months, and if she could prevent an infection she would. She reentered, gown in hand. "More washing. Again."

With that, among protests, she soaped the naked mole rat up, trying not to get stuff in his eyes, rinsed him, and gave him a brisk rubbing dry. It was beyond fortunate that he wasn't furry.

Rmwtyliin finished (the clothing fit decently) and was hustled to the living room; Kwa'a regrabbed her pans, she regrabbed her bundle. The three rushed out, catching the elevator...

Rmwtyliin arrived at her position, due to insane handwaving and time fudging, moments after Nick. She considered grabbing the blood for Insudious but...red blood. Kwa'a's gown was tied on to Duncan.

Entering the lobby, Kwa'a saw a girl shooting near the door, nodded to her, and started looking around for slingable ammo. Oh - an egg in one of the pans... Had she intended to fix breakfast before all of this?

A huge mouth swept down to grab a fleeing civilian. Hitting that big a target that close? Easy.

A swing, and the raw egg whacked into the huge mouth, splattering. Hopefully the beast would be distracted. Or get salmonella.
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Monfrox
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Father Knows Best State

Postby Monfrox » Sun Sep 20, 2015 8:29 pm

Brit had her heart pumping hard in her chest as the entire situation destabilized around them. She stood with the collective of residents as Klaus began shouting.

"Brit, confound it girl, where are you?!"

She swiftly raised her hand and shouted. "HERE!"

"Oh, there you are. Organize the medics and healers."

"Yes sir!" She snapped a salute before turning to the others.

"MEDICAL TEAM, ON ME! NOW!" She practiced her command voice since her early years, and now it was paying off as she bellowed out in the lobby her regroup order.

As such, she looked to Septimus as he suggested setting a triage up in the lobby.

"That's a negative. With the amount of traffic coming and going through here, we'll have people tripping over them all to fuck. The waiting area will be in the dining room where we'll be able to sort out who needs attention immediately or who can wait."

She turned to the Healers. Brit was no prepared as much as she could be, and that bothered her. She needed to make a quick run back to her room. She needed to gear up. But who to delegate responsibilities to for that time? She took a long look over the Medic team. Wait, where did Sandy go? He would be a perfect second-in-command. Wait, there he was.

"Hey, uh, Sandy." She said, quickly going over to him. "I need you to get the team dispersed along the lobby to comfort refugees and see who needs medical attention. Take the ones that are hurt into the dining room before assessing how serious their injuries are. If it's anything critical, take 'em to the clinic. I gotta go run and grab a few things so you're in charge of them til I get back. I won't be long, I swear!"

With that, she quickly headed for the elevator and rode it up to the eighth floor before dashing into her room. There was no time to waste, it was time to pull out all the stops. She started by almost tearing her clothes off and changing into a black National Emergency Services Academy t-shirt, her BDU pants, and her old combat boots. She dumped out her other black uniform from a duffel bag and put her new weapons into it along with some ammo, her tac vest, some other odds and ends that she had lying around, and then zipped it up. She grabbed her BDU blouse, her web belt that had two canteens and an old M16 ammo pouch on it, and her 24 hour and 72 hour packs, both the summer and winter ones. The only real difference between the two was the type of sleeping bag they housed.

After everything was ready, she threw on her dog tags that had her name and address on it and put her iPod in. She called the elevator, stepped in, and waited for it to reach the ground floor while she listened to music. This was it. Every thing she'd done all her life was about moments like this. It was time to see if her training would pay off, or come up short. She promised she'd be on her A-game, as everyone else would expect.
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Mincaldenteans
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Ex-Nation

Postby Mincaldenteans » Sun Sep 20, 2015 11:06 pm

Something didn’t feel right within the ritualist. It wasn’t the change in weather that darkened the skies and set a chill breeze through the guild hall. It wasn’t the change in smells, the salty wisp of the promise of rain, nor was it the sharp tangy smell of dried leaves upon the earth parched and waiting in anticipation of the coming storm. The halls were dry, spare, empty save the chill that blanketed every inch. This was all done before, this was merely a change in weather and the surroundings whispering of welcome change in season.

Yet it wasn’t.

Anais couldn’t pinpoint it. Her commune with the spiritual realm rarely came from those that called nature its home. Unlike the late Ranger, Anita, the Ritualist had next to nothing to bridge her power to that of the earth, save a few pointers in communion that were somewhat familiar when she herself communed with the spirits of the dead. But now, even the realm of the ancients felt distant, alien, unfamiliar… interrupted. Something wasn’t… she frowned, studying her mug of hot tea in attempt to find an answer in the herbal brew.

The ground shook then, first a rumble, like a small wave that shook pebbles off the ground and caused the many trees to groan. Anais looked out to see the skies darken even further. Her frowned deepened as the skies cracked in thunder and a second roar of the earth sent books, chairs, tables and cutlery scattering across the study room. The woman jumped, setting her cup down and grabbed for her staff lying haphazardly under a bed of tousled scrolls and open tomes. She rushed out to the entrance, the guild hall groaned in annoyance and struggle to maintain its structure while her other guildmates gathered within the courtyard of their home.

“What in Lyssa is going on?! My entire room is a mess!” Cherry huffed, gripping her chakram-focus and wand with both hands as she looked up and around. Rain fell upon the ground, its promise delivered, but the feel, the sky, the earth.

Anais looked upon the earth and felt a warm hand upon her right shoulder. She peered up to see Erick, hooded as always, but his demeanor was anything but calm. He looked as conflicted as she did. He could only ask, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment, “Yes of course. I wonder what…”

The echo of harsh words rang across the courtyard, deafening the sound of rain splattering upon the dry earth. "Attention Residents, we are under attack. Healer Group, report to the Communal Dining Room immediately. All medically trained personnel report to the Communal Dining Room. All armed Residents, and Lads and Men, prepare to defend and assault. This is not a drill. This is not a drill."

“We’re needed,” Alexia came out from the large cavernous entrance that led into their main hall. She was dressed in her white and brown healer’s outfit. Her dark scepter and circle focus that hovered above her hand radiated with a blue energy. “You have five minutes, prepare yourselves.”

“Oh goodie, we get to bash a few heads in,” Cherry said tightly, holding back a sigh as she shook her chestnut hair. “What will I wear,” she trailed off, leaving in a sprint to find the appropriate clothing. “Be there in two,” she echoed her promise as she disappeared into the hall for her disheveled room.

Anais turned to look at Erick, the simple garbed Dervish was always ready. He barely smiled, gripping his scythe with one hand and planting its end upon the earth gently. “I am always ready,” he said simply. The ritualist could only nod, as she was as well. Their connection to the gods and spirits alike didn’t require preparation, it rested within their bones, their very fiber of being.

Traxt walked up next to Alexia, his staff poking holes into the wet grounds as he waved a hand that shifted the direction of the rainfall around them. “I don’t care for getting wet before a battle.”

“And should the gods choose to have the rain keep coming?” Erick asked with a knowing smile.

“I don’t have to put up with it, for now,” Traxt said dismissively. Anais bit down a chuckle while Reyna came up from behind, her tall triangular shield and sword at the ready.

The mesmer made her way back, with a shrill “I’m here! I’m here!” heralding her rush through the hallway, dressed in a long white, grey and black ankle length jacket. Traxt could only shake his head and her insistence of appearance. The only thing they could agree upon was the functionality of her clothes, lined with runes and that empowered her abilities.

It was less than seven minutes that the group was fully equipped and found themselves among the many in the lobby. Already orders were being barked and Alexia noted Septimus command of the crowd, not unlike the character of the man already in a seat of (relative) power.

"Medics, I want a triage station set up in the lobby so we can treat people when they come in; everyone who's not in immediate need of assistance, you'll be seen at the clinic and we'll have medics roaming the library! I want guards on that door at all times, melee weapons only! We're not firing into the refugees!"

Alexia and Anais took their cues, both agreeing which places benefitted the waves of hurt innocents pouring through the doors. The monk stayed in the lobby, the crackling of blue energy from her wand and focus radiated up to her arms as she began a series of small mending prayers to the most severe of injured parties. She spotted the nearest group of huddled and injured refugees. They stared up at her, the power of life enveloped her arms as she knelt down, setting the wand to one side, her focus item still hovering atop her other hand. She closed her eyes, placed both hands upon an injured old man and prayed, “That which has been hath been broken shall be mended…”

The ritualist disappeared into the communal dining room, many of the refugees looked startled and terrified. The woman placed leaned her staff by the wall, her hands open and up to signal she wasn't a threat, “I’m here to assist, you needn’t fear me. Please clear the way, I will require a space to mend your injuries.”

They slowly complied, much to Anais’ waning patience but she reminded herself that this was not unlike the time the Charr had come running in pursuit of easy prey upon the Ascalonians. Of course these people were terrified, but here, at least she could give some measure of comfort.

Once they cleared a small space, she was surrounded by them, their arms gripping each other in a huddle filled with whispers mixed in curiosity, fear, and prayers of salvation. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the power within her build up before and cried out to the unseen as the ancients listened to her plea, “Hear me, ancestors…!”

And the ritual had begun.

Reyna tapped Erick’s arm, and both set themselves by the entrance of the building, sword and scythe firmly gripped in their hands ready to meet their assailants and hold the line, or die trying. It wasn’t long before the proud warrior woman set in upon the fiends that met shield and blade in a dance that complimented the whirling blade of robed holy warrior. For every fiend they let down, three more would take its place, and seemingly endless stream. “Feel the cold chill of Grenth!” Erick shouted among the horrific wails of these alien creatures.

The warrior woman could only smirk, striking down another fiend that challenged her, but it was all she could do as she sprinted for her companion, covering the Dervish with a swift kick to an attacking creature. "Get your prayers to Melandru," she said calmly, her shield raised in a defensive position, "let Traxt handle the offense." Erick nodded, shifting his prayers toward the earth, calling upon the goddess of nature to assist in the battle ahead.

Traxt let out a breath and trailed the duo already engrossed in battle; Cherry stayed by his side as they took another portion of the building far enough away from the main entrance. The elementalist hurled a series of spells that dotted the earth in scorching rain of fire, turning their foes into ash, and setting ablaze a dozen more foolish enough to keep their charge. He hurled an air spell after, sending fiends back on their haunches before Cherry cut in front, the mesmer laid down a series of illusions, nightmare conjures, that sapped their strength and hexes that made the enemy clumsy while paying dearly for their intentional mistakes. She was not as wide range as the elementalist, but where he dealt en masse, she would mop up those unfortunate enough not to die the first time.

--//\\--


Mab had been taken with the change in weather, a welcome of the cold and dark suited her being and the inner core of her rang in harmony to the darkening skies. She wondered if winter would fall upon the city, such a thing could not be stopped, such was the endless cycle. Already the queen felt her powers strengthen to the change of seasons. Summer would lose its edge, Winter would have its time, on and on, round and round. Perhaps staying for as long as she did wasn’t bad after all. Fairy would hardly miss her absence and her winter subjects feared her too much to try anything against her throne. Unlike her counterpart, she kept her house tidy and organized.

The fae felt a pang of hunger rumbling through her stomach, an odd feeling considering her immortality. Perhaps it was a hunger of a different nature. Fleeting thoughts of Fritz danced upon her mind and she bit a smile from forming. Duty was paramount above such emotions. Emotions were deadly in their own right, able to topped kingdoms by a single uncontrolled action backed by the power of such feelings. Ridiculous, Mab had had enough of such feelings. She danced the dance, and she enjoyed the dance but it would not win her heart and mind; she would chase and be chased the song will stay the same.

If she only knew what song that was.

Pushing the maddening mystery aside, Mab decided a stroll through the Market District would do her well. She dressed simply, pushing a dark red shade across her supple lips, dressed in a dark ensemble.

SLAM!

It took her off guard, the mirror in front of her shattered but dared not to mar her perfect complexion. Mab dropped her lipstick into the sink, rushing out only to lose her footing again to a large

CRACK!

Her fingers found purchases upon the ledge of her kitchen countertop that doubled as a breakfast nook. A growing impatience swelled within her, such interruptions were not welcomed and Mab found she had no desire to find out what other travesty the Residents had gotten themselves into again.

But somewhere in her loaned apartment blared the familiar voice of Minerva. Mab rose up from, her feet firmly set upon the floor with no threat of losing her balance and lent her ear, "...We are under attack. Healer Group, report to the Communal Dining Room immediately. All medically trained personnel report to the Communal Dining Room. All armed Residents, and Lads and Men, prepare to defend and assault. This is not a drill. This is not a drill.”

Mab gritted her jaw. This was not what she wanted to bother herself with, but curiosity overrode her desire to stay indoors and so she changed appearances once more for the occasion. With a snap of her fingers, her dark blue dress she had chosen turned into a fitting black renegade look. If there was a fight, she would plunge herself into the violence.

The rumbling in her stomach only intensified with anticipation.

"Attention please!"The Building has shifted dimensions. There is not time to explain. We are needed here. The people you see here are refugees. Their village was attacked by a swarm of predators -- Fiends -- and these predators are at our gates. Neste, Ocho, FUBAR, take with you as many rugged Residents as will follow. Punch a hole, xenos. There's another wave of refugees on the way, also pursued by Fiends, and this first swarm stands in the way of their safety. The rest of us will tackle the enemy in our front yard.”

While Mab didn’t require a team to dispatch the unruly, she wandered off on her own, pushing past the many crowding the lobby. She trailed behind presumably Neste, Ocho and FUBAR, not wanting to gain their attention or add herself within the group, she simply went a different direction.

The fiend, those few that Mab drew their attention circled her in curiosity; the Fae glowed within the night and she gathered them like moths to a flame. One snapped its unsightly jaws at her, and it seemed to have triggered a shrill roar among the group that surrounded her.

Her tri-colored storm grey eyes lit into terrifying beauty, the skies swirled in darkness while her skin glowed with power and the darkness inside her screamed for release of unmitigated violence and bloodshed. The air was electric, heavy, and the ground trembled at the wake of something horrible, something yet unleashed and familiar, known, a primal reminder of the consequences of trying a goddess like Winter itself. This was her nature, this was the core Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness. Violence and bloodshed, she had rare moments to revel in such a torrent of screams and agony, and what a joy it was for the fae to remove swaths of fiends while she danced upon the fallen and laughed in delight at the futility of their attacks upon her.

“Who dares,” she cried out in laughter, clapping her hands in midst of a swath of destruction, “Who dares defy Mab! Who dares challenge the Queen of Air and Darkness!”

So it served a purpose in helping the refugees, let it never be said Mab wasn’t helpful.

--//\\--


Dan pushed up his sleeves, pressing his hands gently upon a child with a broken arm. “Hold still, sweetie, this won’t hurt but if you move it’ll make it worse.”

“I want my mommy,” she sniffled, tears streamed down her fragile face with eyes that slowly grew distant at the dark thought of reality. Dan’s heart broke, watching the fear set upon the child’s eyes. She was one of many, and there was no way of telling if her mother was still alive. Too many were coming in, too many still would come. He needed to remain objective and he had a difficult time maintaining his composure at the sight of such raw vulnerability.

“I know, but we can find her later. Can you hold still, I promise I won’t hurt you,” he attempted to soothe. The summer fae was not used to handling children, but injured was injured, and the Fae laid gentle fingers upon the child’s injured arm and closed his eyes. His power flowed through and he heard the girl gasp, perhaps in awe or fear, he wasn’t certain, but thankfully the kid remained still.

“You don’t have time to heal her through,” Alexia cut his concentration. Dan frowned and looked up, seeing beads of sweat forming atop her hairline. The monk was pushing her power and spells to its limits; there were simply too many. “Heal her enough to move her along, we’ve got more incoming.”

“But…”

The monk shook her head, “No buts, I’m sorry, Dan but move her to the library or the dining room. We handle the incoming, they take the rest. Apologies, child, but you need to have your mother…”

“She may not…”

Alexia remained quiet, studying the hapless child. “I see. Bring her where you best see fit but get back here immediately.”

Dan nodded, grateful for the monk’s understanding. “You have two minutes,” was all the monk said and Dan scooped the young girl into his arms and hurried for the library.

Hunter was by the door, ushering them in with a wave of his arm as he held the door open. “In here, quickly we’ve got room for more. Place the kid there!”

The Summer fae was relieved to see a familiar, but confused at the same time. He set the child on a chair, who clung on a little too long. It did little for Dan’s heart, but he pushed the feeling aside and looked up to the resistance fighter, “Not that we can’t use more hands, but why are you here?”

The nevidian looked around, “Plenty of violence to be had, not enough hands. I don’t have any weapons to speak of so I’ll lend a hand where I can.”

Nodding, Dan managed a smile for the child. “Keep an eye on her will you? Her mother may be looking for her.”

“Of course,” Hunter said and looked at the child still cradling her injured arm.

Dan left, heading back for the lobby.

--//\\--


“Weak! How disappointing!” Mezran bellowed as his bat’leth slashed downward upon a fiend. One launched itself upon his shoulders, twirling the two in a dizzying fumble, deeper into the crowd. It bit the shoulder of the Klingon and it only angered the Klingon even more. Gripping its head, Mezran pulled it from its shoulder, shredding the tissue where teeth had sunk it and he grunted at the stinging pain while slamming the fiend onto the ground, meeting his boot right after.

“To Gre’thor with you all! Meet your end at my sword!” He charged into the fray.

Tavana, being the smarter Klingon of the two, stayed by the door dispatching one fiend after another in as many as her twin blades could meet. An equal number of scratches, bites met her body, but it only drove the female warrior further. The air was pungent with the blood of the enemy, and the effort of a prolonged battle against these new aliens burned her lungs with the exertion she taxed her body while her legs cried in aching pain as she pushed on. Tavana met the enemy with a grin of a predator as she waded through the fiends.

“Fall back!” Came the cry of a woman she did not recognize, a short hair woman with sword and shield as she slashed and parried. “Back! Now!”

Mezran caught site of a man shouting an incantation in a dialect his translator failed to process. His staff was raised with the other hand glowing with a miniature star between his fingers. The Klingon frowned, not understanding why it was necessary to dislodge from his position, but the order came in again, this time by Tavana who wasted no time in complying. Mezran headbutted a fiend trapped in his vice like grip at the neck, sending the creature crashing upon the ground while he whirled his bat’leth in a defensive strike to keep the enemy at bay.

“Now!” Another voice cried out, the two Klingons rushed back, behind a robed figure as the roar of blazing heat pierced the night in a wash of red, orange and yellow directed at the enemy. The screams of the fiends were a shrill and piercing sound, only to be taken over by the ones unaffected as it pushed forward. The man that finished his incantation leaned heavily upon his staff, exhausted from the spell and energy required to unleash it.

“I need time,” Traxt said simply. Cherry came to his side, her wand had been replaced with a sword, glimmering in shades of purple and magenta; an illusionary blade and far from harmless.

“Then time you shall have!” Mezran said, impressed by the destruction the human had wrought. Immediately, the Klingon took a step forward and Tavana stood by him flanked by Erick, Reyna, and Cherry.
Last edited by Mincaldenteans on Mon Sep 21, 2015 10:32 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Torsiedelle
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Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Sun Sep 20, 2015 11:35 pm

"Hi, Bran, Hi, Rylli!", Torii seemed chipper, if tired and not as energized as she usually was. "Any idea what the hell is going on?", She asked, happy that they joined up when they did. She continued to fire a few rounds here and there, having to reload once. She was glad for once that her AK-74 was 5.56mm, and not the bigger rounds used on older AK's. Still, maybe 7.62 would drop them more easily.

She missed the feeling of that rifle kicking against her shoulder, even if it was a bit tiring.
Last edited by Torsiedelle on Mon Sep 21, 2015 4:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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The New Velociraptor Empire
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Ex-Nation

Postby The New Velociraptor Empire » Sun Sep 20, 2015 11:41 pm

As their home was suddenly jolted from its anchors the Raptor Household found themselves awake on the ceiling as many of the furnishings were thrashed about. "Scarface! Take the children to the bunker! Neil shouted as he threw on his hat and tie not bothering to put on his shirt and jacket. Gretta threw on her straw sunhat with matching scarf as she opened the weapons locker in the bedroom. She tossed Neil a Tesla Pistol as she grabbed her Handheld Combustor. "What the hell happened?" Gretta yelled as she looked down the halls of the mansion where immobile minions were scattered about leaking goo onto the floors. Neil checked the maintenance console to an unhappy surprise, Minion systems had gone down and were unresponsive while escaped specimens were running amuck and some rooms had fallen off during the trip.

"Hold on gotta freeze some rooms." Neil said as he entered commands only partially containing the mess. "Looks like we're gonna have to jettison some of the rooms we can't save." he added as he entered a few more commands and had the rooms and the contents therein cut off from the rest of the house probably adrift between dimensions, but all that mattered was that it wasn't going to destroy them.

Arthur and NVE fought off the stragglers of the hostile specimens as they worked to fix what was left of the house.

Neil and Gretta were prepared as they kicked their front door open with their weapons drawn, to find the apartment door at the edge of their front lawn. Curious they slowly walked up to it, then proceeded to kick it open as well. Listening to the intercom, Neil thought back to the last time he heard the intercom of the apartment, it had been quite a while.

With the call for medics, Gretta ran back and grabbed her medkit then rejoined Neil as they both went downstairs. Gretta gave a parting kiss to Neil as she went towards the dining room while Neil continued for the lobby and out the front door.

---

Velocidoctor awoke abruptly from his chair to find all his papers floating through the air, even te blueprints from the pilfered envelope. Nothing moved save for the chairs and decor as he bolted down all the furniture out of habit. He knew a bit of medicine so he sought to help tend to the wounded, combat was a last resort. He grabbed his Laser Spanner Cane and ran for the dining room.

---

Fortu, still under his guise of Jonathan, clung to the bed as it moved about. As he listened to the intercom and ran down the stairs he saw there was trouble. Heading back to the apartment he shared with Monique (still living as Caroline) and opened the dressers looking for his backup gun. He didn't like resorting to violence but he wasn't a healer and he very well couldn't let innocent people get hurt. He pulled out a silenced 9mm pistol he kept in case the Raptors found out who he was and came after him.

In his haste to help defend he didn't notice the coffeemaker laying broken in the kitchen, unable to speak its dire warnings.


Outside Neil was underwhelmed by the foe, "Overgrown rats? Mammals are so pitiful." he said and proceeded to ignore Septimus as he ran out and flanked the Fiends, blasting them with bolts of electricity. This was not a battle, this was pest control.

Fortu, however, listened to the man he voted for, lowered his gun and grabbed a sturdy standing lamp and ran out wielding it like a club swinging at the frightening beasts. His cybernetics may not have enhanced strength but they greatly increased his durability. He cared not about breaking his masquerade, Fortu saw these people in need and would not let more harm come to them.

---

Gretta went to work setting up her equipment, a syringe gun loaded with various antibiotics and anesthetics, a medi-ray beam to quickly heal minor wounds, and a bone saw that had ended more lives than it saved. She began trying to pick out the most wounded who might need surgery. She then helped Insidious with getting the blood out of the elevator.

Velocidoctor knew his cane would be of limited use so he broke open a first aid kit he found in his room and began treating those who he could.
Last edited by The New Velociraptor Empire on Mon Sep 21, 2015 1:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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TotallyNotEvilLand
Senator
 
Posts: 3570
Founded: May 29, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby TotallyNotEvilLand » Mon Sep 21, 2015 12:24 am

Adri had been looking forward to a good night's sleep after the exhausting plane ride back to Bielefeld and a walk around town. Unfortunately, her evening itinerary was rudely interrupted by a sudden shaking, and a forceful throwing from her bed. She tumbled to the ground, covered in blanket and robe. After a good few moments spent unwrapping herself from the fabric and regaining her balance, she heard the intercom go off. They were under attack. Why in the name of the gods did she leave her Uzi back in Arkadacia? She quickly drew her kukri and grabbed the nearest piece of kitchen equipment to use as an improvised buckler shield. Slowly she shuffled her way outside, not willing to put herself in front of fire (nor was a small child with knife and smoke poofing more effective than a grown adult with a rifle). She landed behind Bran and Rylli, quickly lifting her hands up in case the two were startled.

"Hope you don't mind if I drop in." Adri says, chopping off a few pieces of her robe for use as bandages... in case they were needed. Her knife was at the ready for anything that managed to get past the two Branreichians (was that the proper term? She hadn't taken the time to research it).




We are under attack. O, such joys the words brought! Crysal had been waiting for a very long time to get a chance to kill things. Finally, it was time. The Arkadacian usually slept in her normal form just to be prepared for this sort of situation. A few minutes spent putting on her armor and grabbing her axe, she was good to go. Crysal nearly kicked down her own door with absolute glee, her pole-axe ready to hack, crush, or stab anything she deemed worthy of killing.

Sadly, she didn't have time to apply the traditional blue face-paint, but judging by the looks of the creatures, the paint wouldn't have scared them anyways. Her eyes went off to the side. Adri was fine, hiding behind two with rifles. She began clanging the flat side of her axe against her helmet, screaming loudly to draw attention. A few of the beasts took note, and she got to work.

Disposing of mindless animals wasn't as invigorating as fighting a person. They were more predictable, they weren't exactly armored... but still, something about the cracking noise they made when she stomped on their grotesque little heads was like sheer euphoria.

This was what she lived for. Soon the area surrounding the building was filled with jubilant, nigh-incomprehensible singing. Crysal could've been praying to some obscure pagan god, or perhaps taunting her foes. Either way, Crysal's movements suggested a never-ending dance of death. A kick to a rodent-face here, the blunt end of her axe crushing a spine there, and maniacal laughing sprinkled throughout.

"KHARKISSAL, EAT YOUR FUCKING HEART OUT!" She cackled, letting out a loud, echoing roar.
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Fvaarniimar
Minister
 
Posts: 3125
Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Mon Sep 21, 2015 12:32 pm

Realizing that they were basically being left to their own devices, Nick twitched his tail, swiveled his ears, and headed for a moaning man, setting a paw on his intact shin. He focused on the man, trying to figure out how it worked...it worked with prey... He thought of a rat who he didn't want to feel a thing as it was eaten...

Great, now he was hungry. However, he had got the feeling. He understood what to do...he strengthened it and abruptly the moaning ceased entirely, the man sighing in surprised relief. He knew that he could block this man's pain for some time. There were so many others wounded, more coming in by the minute. Could he keep it that way, make it hold... He stopped maintaining what he had done.  It was holding.  It felt a little weaker.

It wouldn't last forever, although in theory it could last a while if the nerves in the area were not stimulated; with even the slightest bit more stimulation to the spot than was present already, the nerves would start signaling again.  After that, it would be a few minutes at the most until they were once again behaving normally. Nick did not know any of this.

He moved on, after a reassuring pat on the man's cheek, pawing person after person, working his way into a clump without healers in sight. Soon he'd started trying to transfer reassuring emotions, with rather limited success; the emotions didn't persist for long, and half the time Nick's nervousness was what transferred. He wouldn't get to everyone, but after some time healers would find that an occasional patient was more comfortable than expected.
-------
Kwa'a heard the woman say to use only a certain sort of weapons...apparently, swords and the like given what the others held. She thought she could avoid hurting the people with the sling- particularly as the targets were huge -

There was no shortage of people covering the door and she needed ammunition anyway.  Surely some of the stones in the wall would have fallen... Movement drew her eye to a corner.  There was a pile on the floor, but the stones floated up to settle back into place..."Sorry."  She took them.  When she next looked, the wall was intact.

With that, she charged out the door - holding the largest and heaviest pan, the rest (save for one) to the left of the exit for others to grab - swatting one of the fiends on the kiester, loading a stone, hitting another right in the eye.  She was good at dodging.  Those teeth looked like they would hurt, even if she could probably whack her way out of the mouth... Hmm...  Why not make it tougher for them to attack?  She could even use the teeth as new ammo.  She'd been slinging as she thought - rather wildly, perhaps, but the advantage of huge opponents seemed to be that it was hard not to hit them.  She gave the needle-mouth a good solid whack as it opened wider; she missed.  Her arm grazed the teeth, and reflexively pulled backwards as the mouth shot closed.

Inadvertently, the pan hit the roof of the mouth as the arm pulled out.  It almost had to have hit somewhere.  It hit there.  The monster's jaw relaxed, opening a fraction wider - buying her time.  In another second it would have hit her hand - two, amputated.  It would have been horribly painful.  It would have been difficult to explain regrowth.  It - it was hard to do much with a single hand.

As she shuddered at the narrow escape, movement caught her eye - another coming at her.  A stone fell from sleeve to sling.  The throw was reflexive - born partially of desperation.  If she let two near her, she might end up seeing one from the inside. 

The stone went a little wide.  Her target snapped it right out of the air.  The jaws closed... The jaws closed?  Maybe she could keep them shut...

It proved irrelevant.  That one had moved aside a little - there was a gap - its snout moved towards her - a heavy pan to the nose.  It withdrew a step.  She moved forward, turned - the others were too far away to be much help, especially without ranged weapon use.  Feeling rather alone, she pressed on.  She was gasping a little.  She could not take time to catch her breath -

Breathe.  Slowly.  In.  Out.   Re  peat.  She swung the pan around.  She had to focus on the fight.  She had to focus on breathing so she wouldn't pass out.
Last edited by Fvaarniimar on Mon Sep 21, 2015 12:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Primordial Luxa
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 12092
Founded: Oct 30, 2012
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Primordial Luxa » Mon Sep 21, 2015 1:25 pm

Insidious thanked Gretta as the two of them made their way through the injured, wounded and dead fixing and reserving what they could with dark forbidden arts of science and magic. The Luxan eventually however began to run out of raw meat and extra flesh which she could aimlessly graft onto the injured and began having to use her resources sparingly. This meant than an occasional person was overlooked in favor of those more injured or near death.

“Primordial do we have any extra ReAnima? I don’t think we have enough for all of these people and anyone else who might get hurt. If one of our guys outside with the fiends gets killed I’m not sure how much we can do.” Insidious yelled over crying children and screaming adults.

“I got one shot on me that that’s reserved for myself and I think Aegis took some with him before he left. I think we have quite a bit more up in the DEiMOS but I can’t get to it just now” he replied releasing a sudden blast of squamous telekinetic gravity at some of the rat fiends clawing at the windows in order to turn them inside out.

Insidious turned back to the others who were tending to the wounded and said “I’m making a supply run besides more ReAnima and Flesh does anyone here need me to grab anything?”




Meanwhile outside Aegis was trying his best not the get covered in the damned fiend things and had pulled out a fire arm in order to deal with the threat. The gun discharged normally but the reaction when its load struck the horde in front of him was anything but. Rather than simply rip through one of the beast the small bullet exploded with the force of a hand grenade and killed almost of a dozen of them instantly as the bullets geometrically hermetic casing was breached unleashing pent up raw cyclopean energy.

He fired a few more shots into the horde quickly clearing a space around him where he could move without worrying about being overwhelmed and began walking slowly backward towards the other members of the apartment all the while taking shots at the cluster of fiends in order to disperse their numbers.

“Does anyone know how many more of these things we can expect?”
Swith Witherward wrote:But I trust the people here. Well, except Prim. He has shifty eyes but his cute smile make up for it.

Monfrox wrote:But it's not like we've known Prim to really stick with normality...

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Cerillium
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 12454
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Mon Sep 21, 2015 2:15 pm

collab w/sleepy Fennec

Marcus was still exhausted from unloading the truck. It remained parked in the underground garage and he, being practical, had curled up on the seat to catch a few minutes sleep. The minutes spanned into hours, such was his fatigue, and he might have remained until morning had the Building not skipped the dimension. The momentous crash lifted the truck from her tires and Marcus from his seat before slamming both back to solid concrete. He awake with a yelp and tumbled from the cab, coming to rest on his hands and knees.

Bewildered and with his heart beating a rapid staccato in his chest, he scanned the garage for the source, but found nothing. Minerva's voice cracked over the PA system and echoed amid the assorted vehicles. His eyes widened and his thoughts sprung to his beautiful godling.

"Giovenith!" the shout echoed as did his heavy footfalls as he tore through the garage to seek the lobby.

He arrived to find it filled with quickly thinning pandemonium as Septimus took command. Their Representative barked an order and the lobby complied, furniture rocketing towards the walls to make space for direct pathways as well as a triage area to avoid overly burdening the stairs. He turned sideways to slip between the herd fleeing towards the library, and spotted Primordial advancing to guard the door. Relief swept through him as the potent man took up position. Whatever dumbfuck enemy was out there would soon learn not the tangle with a Luxan.

His eyes searched the lobby as he moved, smiling as Giovenith's voice lit up the grim room, and he spotted the flashing paper birds - she was safe and sound! He was about to join Mr. and Mrs. Nikanor as they headed outside to drive back whatever was out there, but spotted Septimus and Klaus. The avatar must have turned over command, for he was galloping towards the doors alongside Minerva.

Avatar and Cultist Leader in action? Whoah shit, whatever was out there had drawn down the big guns. Those two never engaged for petty reasons. And there went the Klingons and a few other warriors. Oh man, oh fuck yeah! And was that Mab? The actual Fairy Queen the cultists had whispered about? The thought of brave people like the Nikanors, and the girl with the frying pan and even little Tora standing shoulder to shoulder with these potent beings positively excited him.

"For the Teen Club!" he shouted to empower his friends. "For the Building!"

He hadn't any weapon, he wasn't a healer. But Representative Itum was a fellow Brother, and so the boy took up position beside him to serve as runner and protector. It was only then that he realized the new arrivals weren't entirely human. Four Elvish persons carried a crippled Minotaur past him, followed by what could only be an anthro cat and a severely bleeding, wailing werewolf.



A gentle hand pressed Alexia's shoulder, and its owner imparted restorative energy to replace what she was rapidly burning.

"I am Ogoti," the Indian man replied simply, his kindly eyes twinkling as he respectfully bowed his head in greeting.

He moved on, Sanjay at his side as he traveled from magical healer to magical healer, calling upon his own gifts to draw down their own brand of magic to stave off their fatigue.



The Building's back door slammed back on its hinges. Red robed priests flickered out like flames, amalgamated and carried weapons vomiting offensive ballistic, plasma and beam weapons.

A Fiend slipped from his swarm to alight on Adrastus' back. Needle teeth gnashed at the heavy appendage extending from the housing unit affixed to his reinforced spine. A heavy, metallic hand latched onto the ratlike creature, crushing its skull. Fingers drove into the pulpy brain and bone fragments, and the Fiend's heavy body became a weapon to bludgeon any that followed its foolish example. The black swarm rippled to release four Fiends his direction. Two were greeted by their dead companion, but the third and fourth were picked off mid-air by an explosive blast that splattered the old abbot with fetid gore.

"Gratias tibi, Thaddeus," he intoned humorously, only to have an equally voiced "Precare!" given in reply.

The brutish machine man pushed through the brotherhood and called them to form a line where they could unleash the holy hailstorm of their god's wrath.

Wren wiped splattered blood from her cheek with the back of her arm and fired several more rounds into the teeming wall of bodies. They were shoulder to shoulder, at times crawling across each others back. The priest's eyes narrowed and then her voice rose above the noise. "Luminen!"

Her father turned his head, comprehending her idea in an instant. "Brotherhood, ground yourselves!"

A small detachment of priests surged ahead. The sparse hair on Thaddeus head stood on end as the men's Voltagheist Fields crackled to life. Deadly electromagnetism pockets sparked from their bare skin, blue-white flashes that arched outward to course through compacted Fiend bodies as the priests pressed through the swarm's wall. The wall momentarily ceased rolling, muscles stretched taunt as the energy besieged their nerves. The stench of seared flesh and pungent ozone rose from the back garden, buoyed to the heavens with a rising cheer from the brothers protecting the back door.



A heavy body slammed into Aegis' back, only to be pulled off before its full weight could cause the man to stagger. Minerva's laughter rose above the screaming Fiends as she pressed her back against his and flung the dead creature back into the swarm.

"No idea how many," she turned her head to glimpse Aegis' golden mask before refocusing her rage on her foes. Her sword flashed and heads rolled and all the while a charming yet cold smile danced upon her perfect lips.

She could hear the raptors although she couldn't spot them. Crysal appeared on the edges of her vision, but the swarm parted them.




Nearly 5 kilometers away (3 miles, to you North Americans) the battle continued to wage.

The thade was no longer a plodding lump of fat. Predator reflexes snapped two sets of powerful arms forward to drive fully extended claws into flesh. He reared on his legs, unconcerned by the Fiends attempting to break through the thick skin and fatty layer protecting his heavily muscled abdomen. He moved shoulders first and with head hauling in opposite direction, undulating his spine as bowed legs pressed him onward in a fully upright gait. He couldn't sustain the position for long but it served well as it allowed him to see in the dark far beyond the swarm directly in front of him. The loose facial folds that normally have him a sour expressed were drawn back to fully expose his maw and double row of rear teeth. It was the front ones that meant business but the back ones were used explicitly for crushing bone. His torso bowed forward into a hunch. Enemy blood stained his lips and cheeks as he opened his mouth wider to unleash a throaty roar.

The tether between Septimus and Neste rippled but the message traversing it was stripped of the sweet warbles and gently reassuring words that customarily floated through it. The growls, monotone in nature and wrapped by the static hiss and clicks of her species' language, carried a sense of urgency. "Principle objectives 3.8 kilometers from refuge. NLA not sufficient enough protection. Principle objectives suffering extreme fatigue. Requisitioning supportive measures: Deploy Branriechian air support to suppress opponents; deploy transport vehicles from garage. Total Primary Objective headcount: 97 alive, 12 gravely wounded."

Although the tether was kept open, Malice abandoned use of it as she reassessed the battle. The Drone, Fae Queen, and the rest could serve for as ground support.

"RETREAT AND DEFEND!" the exo broadcast to her allies.

Ocho raised a brow. The old bitch intended to infect, and he wanted to part of that. His arms slammed into the ground and claws found purchased on the moist loam, and then he was off like a shot. The run took on a weasel's bounding, at times keeping him completely off the ground as he streaked towards NLA and the refugees. Vibrations from the ground told him that Malice's mayhem was now afoot.


The ground in front of the Nifid rippled, buckling towards the swarm as the living things housed in the earth twisted in protesting agony. Virus leached into the dead Fiends, overpowering their still-thriving immune systems and infecting each cell's tiny power factory. The cells rapidly divided, fueled by alien infection, and the now mutated creatures rose from their resting places to follower their Overseer's command. The corrupted creatures streaked towards their former swarm, biting and lashing out to spread contagion to everything they touched. Malice was gathering her army, and soon she'd turn them towards the Building to annihilate the Fiends.

Oh Rodney would shit kittens - nay, fully grown lions! - had he known that Neste, tucked within her life support pod and cackling in delight, had taken this drastic measure willingly and named her corrupted legion 'Tim'.




The Fiends surrounding the Building's front yard became enraged by the denial of their quarry. They broke ranks and poured towards the defenders, seeking out the strongest and weakest alike.
Last edited by Cerillium on Mon Sep 21, 2015 4:10 pm, edited 4 times in total.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Torsiedelle
Post Marshal
 
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Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Mon Sep 21, 2015 2:26 pm

---
Last edited by Torsiedelle on Mon Sep 21, 2015 4:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Monfrox
Post Czar
 
Posts: 33454
Founded: Mar 25, 2011
Father Knows Best State

Postby Monfrox » Mon Sep 21, 2015 2:43 pm

"Jesus Christ, it's all coming apart at the seams." Brit stated as she looked on at the ensuing chaos. Wait, where was her entourage? As if summoned by that thought, Mon, Varona, Flint, and Kelly showed up at the steps. Of course. Always fashionably late. She assumed Mon had gotten Cinnamon to look after Sinyaya, as neither was present. Brit turned around. Part of her wanted to get out there and fight. To show them that she too was able to protect herself and others. But she knew that there was a lot of people who needed medical attention, and right now that was the priority. She went down the line and got out her gauze and bandages to stem bleeding and then helped take them to the clinic over her shoulder. Once in the clinic, she deposited her 72 hour packs and her duffel bag. She was fully expecting to be busy all into the night.



Kelly twirled her Colt Peacemakers along her fingers as she walked down. Truly, it was a bit impressive. However, what came next was even better. She spied a Fiend that ran around a corner after she pointed her pistols at it. Trying to hide from her? No, that wouldn't work. She fire a round at the metal from the side and watched it ricochet into the beast. 45 Long Colt was a powerful round. More than enough to kill anything that moved. She kept up firing as the rest went into action. Still, times like this made her really wish she had her Super Pershing armor. That 90mm cannon would tear through anything and everything.



"We need to secure the cordon around the refugees. Go!" Mon ordered.

The trio of Froxians moved on the defensive line. Flint was no stranger to beasts like this. She grew up around them, and as such she persecuted her targets efficiently. Varona had her arms full firing her Kalash and both her USPs as the others worked on reloading. Mon, with her old rifle, sought to putting the rest of them down, and giving one that got too close a swift kick. Like the others, they weren't going to give up the building without a fight.
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I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
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Fvaarniimar
Minister
 
Posts: 3125
Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Mon Sep 21, 2015 3:42 pm

The apparently-thirtysomething woman gaped.

Wow. Just...wow.

Not for the first time, she wondered how potent her own powers could be if usable directly or even at a single remove on other creatures with minds. Could she have done that? Even with the limitations, her powers could have helped greatly at 'Savage' Era levels. She had never really used them at their full potential, mainly only in obvious ways, before so much of the energy was used to continue existing that she was forced to use excess creatively. But that wasn't an option - that was fine. This opportunity was well worth its price.

All of this, however, was in the back of her mind. The rest of her brain was occupied with trying not to incur serious wounds. Pummel. Twist. Duck mouth. Another. Stone - sling - nose - yes! Step forward, pummel, step - A twig snapped under her foot, drawing rather unwelcome attention - from Kwa'a as well as the fiends.  She had been running for too long.  She resolved to get some more sensible shoes.  Her arm smarted, too.  In fact it was bleeding...she thought it was bleeding?  It wasn't much pain, really... She pressed on, thinking.

Twig.  It plucked it from the air...

Pummel all nearby. Wait till they draw back. [i]Now! Fast!
She grabbed the twig pieces. Grass tickled her hand. Skillet positioned. She tossed one at the nearest. Its mouth snapped shut. Yes! Kwa'a whammed the pan into its lips. It let out a sound of pain. Coughing, sputtering, it pressed its lips on the pan - she pulled it out with five needle-teeth and loaded one into the sling with an almost feral grin.

A piece of hair fell in her eye. She brushed it back, surprised at the fresh scent of grass on her hand.

-----

Rmwtyliin, for a while, had been lost as to how to proceed. The others healed miraculously. She did not. There were no fevers, as far as she knew; nor were there burns. Or that many bruises. Medicinal nutcases weren't used on open, bleeding wounds.

The bottle Kwa'a had given her apparently was.

"It stings, a lot." She had winced. "But it helps people not get sick later." A laugh, not really of amusement. "I ought to know."

The girl had eyed it dubiously, but took the oil.


After applying it to a few wounds - screams of pain adding to the pandemonium - she decided to try the next option. Yarrow. Was not that for pain? It was imported - she really was not sure.

At this point, however, it could only help. "Here, chew this." She handed them some of the dried leaves...or was it the flowers? Rmwtyliin broke those off the stalks as well and dosed her patients.

That done, she wrapped the wounds with lavender cloth, sighing as she did so. The sheets really had been nice.
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2.(PL only)If I type"Nick touches your character and does <this>",he is communicating. If your character has nerve endings in the spot being touched,they'll get the message.Otherwise/if neither bare skin nor explanation given,TG me;something else may come into play.

I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
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Highfort
Minister
 
Posts: 2872
Founded: May 11, 2014
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Highfort » Mon Sep 21, 2015 4:09 pm

Septimus turned as Marcus let out a cry of triumph: "For the Teen Club! For the Building!"

"Good, you're here," the cyborg dispensed with a curt greeting before turning back to see more beasts approaching the door. He noted with delight that not all the refugees were human and some of the bulkier ones still looked fit enough to fight, "Anyone who can stand and fight, I need you at the door! If those beasts come in, we'll have to move the wounded! Hold that door!"

Grunts and roars indicated at least some of his words had fallen on receptive ears; a cyclops wailed and raised his shepherd's crook above his hairy head, running over to the door and shoving past several injured refugees before catching a Fiend in the neck with the head of the stick before sending it flying into its own kin, the sound of snapping flesh and muffled snarls bringing a sickening smile to the brute's lips. Another of his kind swiftly joined him, though she was not partial to improvised weaponry. Instead, she drew a massive javelin from a quiver on her back and sent it careening toward the head of an unfortunate Fiend, the bronze tip piercing its jaw before settling in its throat as the dying creature let out squeals of pain.

Several Minotaurs who had just rushed in met Septimus' order with force and precision. Taking up stances by the door, their eyes scanned through the crowd of refugees as bovine snouts sniffed to pick out any Fiends that might be breaking through. Sinewy fingers gripped sharpened axes and flails, ready to dispatch any unwelcome intruders with sadistic glee.

Septimus turned his eyes away from the doors - they were motivated and inspired and that would have to do to hold the door. Before he could focus on the triage unit in the lobby, he felt a tugging at the back of his mind: Neste's tether.

"Principle objectives 3.8 kilometers from refuge. NLA not sufficient enough protection. Principle objectives suffering extreme fatigue. Requisitioning supportive measures: Deploy Branriechian air support to suppress opponents; deploy transport vehicles from garage. Total Primary Objective headcount: 97 alive, 12 gravely wounded."

Air support. Branriechians. He saw them go through the front door to fight; but that would be wasted potential if Bran and Rylli were injured before it could be brought to bear.

"Marcus, send word to any Residents with transports; we need them to pick up the wounded outside. I'll get Bran," Septimus offered the boy a serious nod before departing from the lobby. Marcus was Thaddeus' son, and as much as Septimus didn't understand or know Thaddeus, he knew well enough that the man's bloodline wasn't one to fail in times of need.

"You two, on me! The rest of you, stay on the door!" Septimus pointed a comparatively-tiny finger at the hulking bulk of two Minotaurs standing near the entrance. They acknowledged with snorts of amusement at the tiny man before following him outside.

"Bran! We need air support!" Septimus yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling to make himself heard over the chaos of battle. A Fiend came rushing toward him.

"For Crete!" the first Minotaur bellowed, raising the heavy axe above his head before sending the sharpened blade down to cleave the Fiend's head in two, "For Pasiphaë!"

The second, not to be outdone, lowered his head before rushing forward to gore two unfortunate Fiends on his horns. Grossly underestimating their weight, he struggled as he whipped around with both hapless beasts squrming on his horns before eventually bucking them off, the two creatures staining the side of the Building as they slid down the front facade.

"Bran! Air support!" Septimus kept up a sprint as he peered through the chaos and attempted to identify the young man in Soviet regalia, "We need it to cover the transports! Air-"

The wind was promptly knocked from the cyborg as a Fiend descended upon him, only to be left chewing on the edge of his belt as it was quickly torn away from the cyborg's body with the angry cry of a cyclops.

"No one hurts my sheep!" the brute grappled the Fiend with both hands and proceeded to squeeze the life from it with rage blazing on his face, "Or my friends!"
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TotallyNotEvilLand
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Ex-Nation

Postby TotallyNotEvilLand » Mon Sep 21, 2015 4:15 pm

Adri kept herself on the move, letting Bran and Rylli fire away as she moved to clean up the stragglers. There were a lot of them, and it wasn't like her swings were the most powerful. Thankfully, what she lacked in strength she made up for in precision. Chop to neck after neck, her kill count approached ten. The Arkadacian panted and took a moment to catch her breath, swapping her kukri to her left hand. She was exhausted, and she hadn't even tried to poof away in smoke yet.

Taking a step back, she exhaled a small cloud of gas, low to the ground. It'd give the little buggers a moment of pause, at any rate. Making a brief moment of eye contact with Crysal, she made a few gestures.




While it'd been a long time since they were fighting alongside one another (Centuries, at that), some things still stuck with Crysal. In particular, the duo's hand signals. They'd slowly begin moving back to the entrance. Crysal drew her revolver and fired once, holding it with one hand. Like the sound of a cannon going off, the over-sized weapon cracked in the air, sending a rat's viscera flying out onto the ground.

Fuck, that hurt... Crysal thought. While on a normal human that would've snapped a wrist, Crysal would normally be able to fire it with ease. Spinning around and swinging an axe for the better part of twenty minutes? That exhausted her a bit. She let her guard slip for a moment and was tackled to the ground by one of the beasts, roaring in her face.

Crysal replied with the traditional Arkadacian method of asserting dominance, a headbutt. Stunning the creature for a bit, she climbed on top of it and began punching it in the face, pulling away once she was certain it was dead. She holstered her axe and began walking back slowly, taking her shots carefully, each one causing a rat to combust. Soon enough, the five shots were used up. Crysal hopped back and leaned against a wall, quickly shoving more rounds into the cylinder.

A good shield wall would make this much easier. She looked around... nobody had a riot shield or even a scutum out. Shame. The conqueror waited a moment before slowly heading forward again, intent on covering Adri until she made it back to the entrance.

For once, she was worried. Sapient foes could feel fear. They were scared and tended to break when she came running at them. Animals? Not so much. They didn't care.
Last edited by TotallyNotEvilLand on Mon Sep 21, 2015 4:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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The Carlisle
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Founded: Aug 25, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby The Carlisle » Mon Sep 21, 2015 5:29 pm

Kale was launched from her bed onto the floor when the Building shifted dimensions. She woke up upon hitting it, and grabbed onto the bed post for dear life. The girl never experienced a shaking like this before in her entire life. She thought the building was collapsing. Soon, it stopped shaking and the PSA burst to life, calling an emergency. Kale scrambled to her feet, confused and afraid. She took a few deep breathes and wrapped hreself up, tripping a few times on the way to the door.

She rushed down as quick as she could to the lobby. A whole mod of people were amassing within it, more scared than her. Klaus spoke explaining the situation. Fiends... attacking people. Kale stood still, in thought of what to do. They were attacking but... could she kill them? The girl didn't think she had the will to take another being's life. Her powers.... they had the ability to easily do so but... she didn't want to use them for that.

Then, two people carried another, severely injured and bleeding, past her on the way to the infirmary. The sight shook the girl to the core. She looked at all the other people in the room, afraid for their lives. Kale gulped and took breathes, fortifying herself. She knew what she had to do.

Kale walked through the crowds, passing through the disorganized mass with surprising ease. She stepped through the doors of the building, witnessing the sight of death before her. She looked to both sides of her, her friends and fellow residents fighting off the horde of fiends.

The beasts flooded the front yard. But the beasts were also surrounded themselves. They were green, and numbered in the trillions. Kale crossed her arms and let the power flow. Green blades, tiny blades, grew rapidly and grabbed at whatever beast they could find. They twisted and turned, wrapping themselves around the toes and fingers, legs and limbs and bodies of the fiends. The entanglement continue at a fast pace, snatching the beasts in its grasp and pulling them into the now growing mass of grass. The fiends howled and flailed, trying to break away. But like hydra, they grew two more grass blade to replace the one cut. Soon, the mass had grabbed onto several fiends, too entangled to escape and growing larger to grab others.
Last edited by The Carlisle on Mon Sep 21, 2015 5:47 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Northwest Slobovia
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Anarchy

Postby Northwest Slobovia » Mon Sep 21, 2015 5:45 pm

Cerillium wrote:Sandy, with ears clever enough to hear things others shouldn't, was on the verge of slipping into dreams when the grumbling became madcap laughter, a swirling waltz played on a music box too tightly wound. The metal tines seemed to strike the pins roughly, causing the notes to be sharp tinks rather than a pleasant chime. The tinks tightened, the drum spun, and the tines snapped off to leave some notes entirely missing. And still the laughter persisted, and the Building slipped into the Void.

"That's not a good sign. Any magic I can Hear distinctly is too powerful for comfort." Sandy switched from muttering to himself to urgent commands as she shook Amanda awake. "Amanda! Wake up! The Building, it's-- There's too much magic in here. Something's happening. Get up!"

Amanda tried to pull herself all the way awake, confused by the end of a dream blurring into Sandy's unexpected demand for wakefulness. By the time she made sense of it, Sandy was already at the window, looking out into something they'd never seen before. The view made no sense to her, and even less to Sandy. "I can barely See through the spell on the Building. It's got a lot of power behind it, but... Stand back, please." With no other warning, Sandy quickly chanted in Greek, bringing his arms across his chest and sweeping them out like extended wings as he turned into Pegasus. He cocked his head to listen, then cocked it in a different direction, and listened more intently.

In a flash, Sandy returned to human form. "We're moving across dimensions, like the Gateway, but with more control and far more power." Amanda didn't wait for him to finish talking before she was pulling on yesterday's clothes. She changed her mind, and dug out a pair of jeans rather than putting her skirt on. Sandy followed her example as quickly as he could, digging out a pair of cargo pants just in case.

The view outside the window changed, but the Belas barely had time to take a look before their stomachs dropped out from them as the Building dropped a short distance. Sandy dropped into a low crouch with the impact and Amanda ended up leaning heavily on him as she staggered from the jolt. A series of crashes from elsewhere in the apartment told them that much of Amanda's grandmother's treasured china had joined some of Sandy's delicate alchemetical glassware in tiny pieces on the floor. Plutarch's paniced squawking prevented them from hearing anything else for a while.

The Belas had barely started figuring out the extent of their losses when they heard Captain Blackwater's call to arms. Amanda wasted no time running back into the bedroom to get her gunbelt and start stuffing boxes of ammunition into her pockets. Sandy stood frozen for a few seconds after Blackwater's alarm. "No! Too soon! Nothing's ready!", he cried. Then he hurried to the bedroom to dig what little he had out of their overnight bags: a small jar of the Balm and two vials of Ox Blood. It would never be enough, even stretching it all as thinly as possible. He added his already-pencil-sized stick to them, packing them into convenient pockets.

Sandy looked up from pocketing them to see Amanda handing him his phone. She said, "No signal, no net, no nothing. But they're still good alarm clocks. Twenty minutes, right?" Sandy smiled up at her as he rose and took his phone. Right: how long the Eyes, Ears, and Nose of the Wolf would last. She'd need them for night fighting. Sandy fished through a dresser drawer that had crashed to the floor, and brought out two dog whistles on chains. They could signal to each other, even if they could do little more than that. They slipped the chains around their necks, grabbed the first-aid kit from under the kitchen sink, and caught a down-going elevator, already packed with other Residents heading for the lobby. Sandy decided he could just take the stairs back up to the kitchen rather than add a stop to everybody's trip. He spent the ride down enchanting himself and Amanda.

The Belas arrived in the lobby just in time to hear the orders of people taking command. They took most of them at face value, but Sandy amended Brit's triage order: it made no sense to take the wounded upstairs and then bring the gravely injured back down here to the lobby clinic. He'd do first-pass triage here. The goners could be pushed to a side and carried out, the critically injured moved into the clinic, and everybody else would go up for better triage. The clinic door was locked, but Sandy threw his weight against it once, and then again: the lock gave, and he had a medical space to work in with more mundane supplies.

Amanda headed out the lobby doors with the first wave, but watched FUBAR, Ocho and the other exos disappear into the distance... and now she had the full answer to Ocho's cryptic comment about Neste being a two-part weapon of mass destruction. She had little time to think about that, as the horde of-- "Dear God have mercy!" It had been years since Amanda had said that in any seriousness, but she wouldn't turn down God's help now. In fact, any divine assistance would be welcome. The Spells of the Wolf were a complete mistake: the moonlight was more than adequate for shooting, and now she could hear and smell the damn things, too: unearthly growls, and a musty wetness mixed with fresh blood. She took a step back; this was a bit too much for her. Magical people, yes; a single supernatural being at a time, yes. Endless hordes of things from another dimension? Her resolve weakened. Maybe she could shoot from the doorway.

Before Amanda could take a step, she heard familiar voices behind her, and she decided to join them. With the Wolf's Ears, she had pretty good idea where they were, and quickly walked backwards towards the Dimitrov sisters. "Good weather for shooting, eh, ladies?" She tried to sound confident, but doubted she quite succeeded.

Katya and Torii sized up the unrushing enemy and opened up, but Amanda faced an agonizing delay. He pistol was good out to about 20 yards, and little more. She clicked the safety off, lined up, and waited... and waited... and waited. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to Amanda; she could now easily distinguish individual Fiends by the differences in their snarls. They raced closer. "Three... two... one..." *blam* She hit, but her bullet glanced off the Fiend's shoulder; she'd need to do better. She shifted aim fractionally. *blam* Caught it in the right eye! It crumpled and she fired at the next one, and then the next...
Last edited by Northwest Slobovia on Mon Sep 21, 2015 5:58 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Swith Witherward
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Founded: Feb 11, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Mon Sep 21, 2015 6:01 pm

Turtleboss made a spectacular (for a waterbear) leap between a Minotaur's feet and alighted on the Building's stoop.

"Rawrrr!" the tardigrade bristled and hopped in place, his curved claws scratching the concrete.

Eye spots took note of the horror on the lawn, and he withered, leaking a minuscule puddle as he realized he was grossly outmatched. A villager, rising to Septimus' call, rushed through the door and tread upon the piss. He slipped, a leg shot forward, and Turtleboss became a flabby, squealing football that sailed cleanly over a Cyclops' head. Goal!

The wet ground absorbed some of the impact. Turtleboss promptly made a nuisance of himself to friend and foe alike as he scrambled to regain his footing. Now no better than a greased pig, the waterbear bolted this way and that, forever fluting in protest of the blows to his side from shins and feet. He narrowly avoided the heavy blow of a frying pan, almost managed to get shot by a Froxian, accidentally knocked a Fiend's legs out from under it, and crashed into Septimus' leg. Dazed, he offered yet another puddle before screeching anew.

A hulking mass pushed Residents, villagers and Fiends alike aside as the Astartes strode towards the frightened waterbear. Deuce paused to steady Septimus, then stooped to scoop Turtleboss up. The waterbear ceased its squeals once placed inside the empty helmet and hung amid the blackened chains and cracked skulls suspended between the twin sonic pillars festooning the top of the Noise Marine's armor.

His acute hearing had picked up the Representative's call for vehicles. He hadn't any but he realized they'd need a hole if they hoped to get past the gathered Fiends. Deuce's lips parted to reveal pointed teeth offset by pale gums and, although his face looked as though someone had pressed it through a wood chipper once upon a time, the smile was genuinely warm. He said nothing but moved onward, a hulking battleship drifting the currants of a black, writhing sea as he heading towards the garage entrance, though his arms occasionally flung out to bat away leaping Fiends.



Marcus didn't need to be told twice. The boy set off as quickly as he could, pushing through bodies and offering pardons as he made his way towards the healers. He didn't spot Sandy, but Giovenith's wonderful locks made her stand out from the crowd.

"Giovenith!" he called to her and then, once she was looking towards him, "We need Amanda's Jeep. We need to pick up people and bring them here. Tell her to head down to the garage! We need residents with vehicles to help."

His view of her became obscured by something that looked remarkably like a bugbear wearing a fuzzy sweater and matching pink skirt. No matter. He knew she'd heard. He pushed back through the masses and took the maintenance corridor to get to the garage.



Myra's fingers nervously twisted a wayward lock of her hair as she took to a corner of the lobby. She couldn't really be helpful anywhere. She wasn't a fighter. She wasn't a healer. The most she could do was write about the event afterwards. Surely they didn't need more bodies milling around the lobby? The teen was about to slip back up the stairs when she overheard Marcus.

Well now, this was something she could do! Her fretful expression evaporated into determination as she followed Marcus.

The garage was still dimly lit. There were only a few vehicles parked there, once of them being the Rolling Roid. The keys were kept at the eternally-vacant attendant's booth, and were marked "Step Van". She didn't know who it belonged to, but it had been sitting there for quite some time, and she had taken to occasionally letting herself into it, sometimes even cranking it on to make the radio work and to listen to the heavy diesel engine. The cargo area remained empty. Maybe she could fit a bunch of people into it?

She heard Marcus' truck fire up, and realized he was pulling it around to the gated entrance. Once those iron gates opened, they'd have hell to pay if Fiends flooded in. Myra slipped the keys from their peg and sprinted to the van. The faithful engine turned over and she wrestled with the shifter. It lurched, then rolled forward on knobby tires. She pulled directly behind Marcus' truck.

Thaddeus was gonna be pissed when he discovered his missing baby.
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