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

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

There'd been a bit of a lull in the action since the grass had gone up. Crysal was glad she wasn't caught in that. Probably wouldn't have pierced her armor, but the prospect of getting her internals crushed wasn't a happy one, as blunt force trauma had proven to be one of the few things capable of taking her down. (The shrapnel of a point-blank artillery blast bounced off her armor, but the shockwave sure as hell didn't). This gave her time to reinforce the shieldwall with more people, more tables and shields, and more importantly, more guns. A few crenellations in the wall provided ample space for the few blessed with firearms to rest their weapons and fire.

Damn, it'd be great to have a .50 cal there. Crysal shrugged it off. "Shout when another wave's approaching. With any luck, the gods will have to save meeting us for another day." She hadn't really taken the time to question any of this. As far as she was concerned, this was some hysterical fever dream and she was just tossing around in bed, imagining it. That didn't seem to be the case. It felt too real to be a dream, physics still worked as they did in the real world, and a short bite of her hand confirmed that pain wouldn't wake her up. Bielefeld wasn't renowned for having a massive pest problem (Barring the anti-abhumans, who she'd consider beneath worms in the grand pecking order)... She'd figure it out over breakfast and a mug of water.

---

After the adrenaline had worn off, the pain from the cuts on Adri's legs had caught up with her. Every step was a laborious, painful process, and by the time she approached the improvised hospital she was dragging a leg across the ground, leaning on the wall for support. It didn't take long for her to get set up with a few medicated bandages and a place to sit. She observed the room. People with far worse injuries than her own. She'd have to wait for the bleeding to stop and her leg to heal at least a bit before she started helping, what else could she do? She prayed, closing her eyes and silently muttering to herself... unlike the many times she had prayed in her times of need, there was nary a response. This was typical, the Arkadacian gods didn't have jurisdiction over events outside of their homeland, but they were at least able to communicate with her outside of Arkadacia.

That begged the question... where the hell were they, if not still on Earth? Adri's eyes shot open and she leaned back in her seat, staring at the ceiling.

[Swith Witherward]

"I've sent the frazzled here," the mayor explained. "We have some able-bodied males to help transport people down from the roof, and a few that can held defend. But most of my people are simple sheep herders. They live in cottages away from the village. I suppose those homes are gone now, but there's nothing to be done about it right now. This group doesn't have much to offer in the way of healers. A few herbalists, a midwife."

Her eyes roamed the room, taking note of the numerous books. This strange cubby existed in the old ruins, and she'd always thought the decrepit shelves were used to store food. Ah, but much speculation would be answered by time things settled. The Cervitaur was certainly looking forward to it.

"Tell me, how did you restore these ruins?" she tilted her head. It was difficult for her to determine what sort of people the Residents were. Usually, newcomers arrived in very small groups or else one person at a time. She suspect Demens was behind it (bless his name) but so many questions remained unanswered.

"Where did you come from?"


The children eyed Willow, although they weren't afraid of him. He was interesting and pretty, and flew. The young girl that had started the leaves song lifted her bashful face towards him, marveling at his beauty mark.

"Excuse me," she said altogether timidly, "But do you have toys like the other Ponies?"



Naomi followed Aegis as far as the Luxan apartment door. She continued downward while he sorted his supplies. Truthfully, she wasn't sure if she'd be much help here. She could heal, yes, but the Fiends looked deadly. If people were going out the meet them and break through them, it would be good to have a healer in their midst.

She squeezed past villagers and gain the Building's front door only to collide with something big and bulky.

"Sorry," she gasped as she craned her head back to see Thaddeus' grim face.

Awkward. That was the only way to describe seeing her ex-husband. Very, very, horribly awkward.

Naomi suddenly became very interested in her shoes, her eyes cast downwards as a blush rose to her cheeks. "You look well."

There wasn't any reply. The old cyborg had pressed on, intent to join the extraction team. Naomi blanched. Did he hate her so badly? She supposed he did, and he had every reason to...

No, he didn't.

Damn you, Thaddeus Cerillium. Your addiction came between us! Not my stuff! Your bad. Not mine!

Naomi tugged her teeshirt hem to smooth the cottony fabric. There wasn't any time for nonsense reasoning. Now that she knew where she stood with him, she could move on. And move on, she intended to do! The avatar mustered her resolve and strode from the Building will all the confidence in the world. It deflated quickly once she realized Marcus intended to drive one of the trucks.

Marcus! She hadn't seen him in ages! He didn't look much different, of course, but it had been so long since her eyes had fastened on him. He had grown a bit more, and had taken on a young man's determination, judging by the way he carried himself. Naomi wouldn't miss any more of his life. Not now that she was back. To hell with Thaddeus, but her stepson deserved a mother.

[Monfrox]

"Just take it easy, girl. Take it easy. Can you tell me your name? Where you are right now?" Brit regrettably looked to the side when Rim talked about a wren.

She saw the woman bleeding out of her stomach. At least the bandage covered some of the wound, but it looked bad. Entirely bad.

"Ohhhhh FUCK!" Brit shouted, switching focus. "Keep her up, I gotta get her to the clinic."

Brit ran out of the Library and quickly grabbed the stretcher she placed for quick access. She ran back and got a one of the villagers to help her put the woman onto the litter before rushing to the clinic.

"God, this shit is so fucked." She said as she put the woman on the bed. "Gretta, this one's bad!"

That was entirely up to her less than stellar judgement, though. Brit realized that they were doing things a bit backwards. If the triage was meant to assess who was in critical condition while handling the other patients that were better off, then why was she working the clinic? She had only basic medical knowledge, but there was no one else. She slammed her fist on the table, taking her time to wait by beating herself up over not being able to do anything. She grabbed her gloves out of her pack and then walked over to Gretta.

"Take her, I'll tourniquet this one to stop the bleeding while you work. I can't do a lot, but maybe just enough to keep people going." She looked through her pack pulled out a pain reliever pill she had. "Here, look at me. Look. You're gonna be fine, okay?" She said to the woman.

The girl was almost hysterical and pointed to Brit's head. "Y-You're bleeding!"

Was she? Brit put her hand under her hat and took it off. She was. Without proper stitching, or any at all really, her head wound had reopened again. Well, that was just perfect. Another thing to tack on, but it was negligible for now.

"Don't worry about me, I just fell on a knife is all."

"You...what...?"

"Fell on a knife. I got a thick skull, though, so I'm fine. Now take this, I'll get you some water. It'll help with the pain. Whatever you do, don't look down. I need you to do at least that for me, okay?"

"But why?"

"Because it's not going to help either of us. Just relax. You'll be fine, I promise."

Brit handed the girl the pill and quickly ran some water. She came back and gently lifted the woman's head up to have her drink it.

"I'm going to tie a tourniquet around your leg, okay? It'll feel uncomfortable, but it'll slow down the bleeding. Like I said, I promise you'll be fine."

With that, Brit got out more gauze and snatched a colored pencil she kept for her map supplies in the pack. She wrapped the gauze as close around the wound as she could before twisting it down with the pencils as leverage. Once that was done, she put a pillow under her legs to elevate them and further prevent her body from going into shock.

"I've got more people to take care of, but you will make it, you hear me. You will live." She said affirmatively before letting the girl drink more water.

"Gretta, I don't feel I should say this, but pleeeeaaasseeee be kind to our patients for me, okay?" She didn't let her answer as she all but bolted back out to the Library.

By the time she got there, the blood had stained her shirt and was visible as it ran down the side of her neck. She went back to Rim and snapped her fingers in front of the girl.

"Hey, hey, look at me. You still dizzy?"

---

Varona, after being carried onto the roof by a bathtub, was a bit beside herself. Truly, at this point, home was looking less and less dangerous by the minute. She sat up and headed back down to the lobby, which took about a half hour between all the traffic. Once there, she stepped outside to the ice wall before noticing the vehicles. They would need an escort, and it looked like others had the same idea. She noticed one who also had more than two arms. Well, she certainly didn't expect to meet another person like her in her lifetime. For now, she waved down one of them before hopping in with whomever took notice of her.

Mon went up to the front door where Kelly was sitting. The two took time to rest for now, as they would need it in the time ahead.

[Giovenith]

Eyeing Nick as he left with a concerned smile, Giovenith was quick to flick a wrist to set the paper dolls at a more extensive pace so that she could answer the mayor's questions. The part about their homes being gone was most concerning, and she immediately mentally penciled in plans to ask if they would have liked assistance rebuilding them once this was all over.

"Ruins?" the godling briefly looked around. "No ruins here I'm afraid, our home has always looked like this. We're from? Well, that's a long story..." She smiled more directly. "Technically, everyone who lives here comes from someplace different, but before arriving here, we all lived in this Building, and this Building was in a country called Bielefeld. Don't know how we got here though, we only just arrived as soon as this whole mess began..."

The girl gestured an arm and patted her pockets with the other to consider what to pull. "Please, may I offer you a seat? Surely it would be better to not have to deal with the planning, healing, and questioning while standing."


"I'm sure we have a few toys here you could all play with," Willow replied to the little girl, pressing his hooves together and smiling. And he was, Giovenith always carried some on her person, and if she was busy, it would be no big thing for him to run upstairs and fetch some from their room to lend to the little ones. He was a bit confused from her statement about other ponies at first, but quickly assumed she must have meant the colorful, equine-figured toys that Giovenith herself had—one My Teensy Pony franchise by some woman by the name of Megan Zarchele. "Do you mean you want some pony-shaped toys?" he asked innocently. "We have those too."

[Fvaarniimar]

"Just take it easy, girl. Take it easy. Can you tell me your name? Where you are right now?" Brit regrettably looked to the side when Rim talked about a wren.

She saw the woman bleeding out of her stomach. At least the bandage covered some of the wound, but it looked bad. Entirely bad.

"Ohhhhh FUCK!" Brit shouted, switching focus. "Keep her up, I gotta get her to the clinic."

Brit ran out of the Library and quickly grabbed the stretcher she placed for quick access. She ran back and got a one of the villagers to help her put the woman onto the litter... She went back to Rim and snapped her fingers in front of the girl.

"Hey, hey, look at me. You still dizzy?"

"...A little." A shaky sigh. "There is so much blood-color blood here. Even you -

"Do you need that bandaged? -

"Oh! You have my sincere gratitude. I was extremely worried about her, but could not think of any way to help except sending a messenger." A frown. "I hope that she is alright. I sent her a few minutes ago."

(Wren the fairy, having found all the powerful healers nearby to be busy, had decided to check the 'clinic' which she had heard mention of. Those inside and looking in the correct direction would see a flash of navy hair as she poked in her head and - spotting the woman for whom she was supposed to get a healer - spun midair to start heading back.)

[The Carlisle]

Running... running... so much running... running from her problems... running from her fears.... running from what she created...

The plants.... the red plants with the over-sized red heads.... with huge mouths and trichomes shaped like teeth... running around wildly and gobbling people up...

It's all her fault... She didn't mean to cause it but it happened anyways... Its all her fault... all her fault...

Kale jolted awake, the change in scene waking her from her nightmare. She tried to get up, but her body wouldn't let her. So much energy used up, her body was forcing itself to rest. All she could do was move her head, looking at the white walls flanking her and the curtain surrounding it. Her mind was wondering where she suddenly appeared, but that quickly faded as something dawned on her. She fell unconscious. She didn't realize how much power she used, it had been so long since she last used that much. Sending Tom out, it must have taken every last bit of her. She didn't realize she passed out. If she passed out, than that means...

Panic set in, and the little plant girl struggled to make her body work. Thankfully, it started cooperating, and she slowly edged her way upright, clinging to the tub edges for support. When she got up, she rested herself on the tub's edge, looking and being shocked at her surroundings. First, she was floating, high above the scene. Not only that, but the field was ablaze. She found where Tom was, burning in the inferno. She was half-thankful for that. Tom went out of her control after she passed out. Beyond the flames, the grass still grew, already reaching 3400 ft from the center all around, but slowing down as it went further and further away from the origin point of the growth.

Speckled throughout the unburnt fields was spots of red. Kale immediately knew what it was, and she stared agape in disbelief. She had control, she... she knew she had it... How could.... no, this isn't happening. Kale refused to believe that... killing use... went out of control as well. She didn't feel the change. Did she miss it? Did her weariness cause her to not sense it? Regardless of those questions, Kale realized what it caused, and the most sickening feeling fell upon her.

Kale jolted, as the tub landed on the roof of the building. Feeling an overwhelming disgust and the sudden bump caused Kale to vomit on the Building's roof. Her arms quivered, her skin pale white, and her eyes empty, not looking at anything, with her mouth agape in shock and horror. Too weak and horrified to move, Kale slumped on the tub's edge, one arm dangling free while the other was used to rest her head on.

[Fvaarniimar]

...Apparently taking care of Rmwtyliin had reawakened 'maternal instincts' or something of the sort. First Euphemia, and now Kwa'a saw a girl slumped in a tub and wanted to help her out. With a groan she crab-walked the couple of feet needed. Her muscles were stiff.

Drawing nearer, she also recognized the look on Kale's face. It was rather similar to that which she had glimpsed in the pool while washing the infant Ythfiid clean of blood; to the look she wore still sometimes when thinking of that and of her complete failure to protect the Fvaa (who were hers before they were Ythfiid's; who still were in a way) or to do something, anything, and then she had harmed someone so innocent...She had wanted to. Yes, it was because the Bomic people wanted to - she had been over that - but... It was still awful. She still wondered how she had stopped, what had changed.

It would be pointless to ask the child if she was okay. Clearly she was not. It was uncertain, from Kwa'a's perspective, whether things could ever be okay again after something like what she had done; she hadn't forgiven herself for it. Perhaps she should have stayed and taken care of her people...

They feared her. The stories made it impossible for her to approximate normality in her country. The new technology... She couldn't have risked the truth being realized and her reality breaking...

It didn't absolve her of the guilt, but it did allow her put it aside and focus on the present. In the present there was a very upset girl. Deliberately, Kwa'a looked at Kale. "Hello." That was all. Just an invitation to talk. Her tone was warm.

[Cerillium]

"Minerva, the constructs and FUBAR are still out there."

Septimus seemed distraught though he maintained a professional edge. The cultist leader's eyes narrowed as she peered into the distance again. She could seem them clearly against the charred earth. FUBAR and either Nila or Neste were standing together; the other Nifid was further away and the swarm had just passed over her.

"I ordered someone to deploy vehicles as part of a rescue convoy, earlier," Septimus continued, "Can you get me in contact with them? Do you anyone with the radio frequency of Bran's chopper? We need to coordinate the rescue before we lose anyone."

Minerva pinched the cherry from her cigarette, allowing the glowing ball to drop to the ground before stamping it out, and closed her eyes in thought.

"The trucks may not be on the same channel as Bran. We could send a runner down and tell them to tune into it, to help coordinate. Frankly, I think it's a shitty plan."

She stepped to the ledge. Her body leaned forward to the point of overbalancing yet her boots remained firmly planted on the Building's edge. Down below and awash in activity, two large rigs and a Jeep were making final preparations. Minerva clucked her tongue as she returned to Septimus' side.

"Do you know what kills one of those Nifid Overseers, Septimus? I'll tell you - nothing. Nothing kills them. They're bloody near invincible. They reform and regenerate, and emit radiation and electricity and EMP bursts and a host of other crippling things. They absorb magic and crap out raw energy. Lob 'em into space and they swim. Drop them into intense gravity and they run. Smash them, thrash them, swallow them whole and shit them out again and you still have a thriving, angry, violent biomachine capable of spawning a contagion with an infection rate beyond belief. There's no cure for it, you see.

"Out there in the field is Neste Trilb, the Malice of the Convocation, a biomachine so skilled in her sadistic methods that entire worlds would surrender upon hearing of her impending arrival. The Ba'a and the Thade shit themselves to this day upon hearing her name. Why else would I have assigned her to protect you?"

Minerva looked Septimus squarely in the eyes. "I recommend you go tell those silly mundane females to get the fuck out of that convoy. They're either cocky or uninformed. That swarm of Eldritch abominations took down Malice but we don't know how. What makes them think they'll fare better?"

A match flared to light a cigarette that hadn't been between Minerva's lips a second ago. "I'm going to attempt to step out of the timeline and see if I can't get close to one the swarm just passed. The physics in this dimension isn't typical. I don't know how successful I'll be, but I'll try. It might help us to understand our ratty foe. Of course, it's not entirely the Fiends that did it. If it wasn't for the grass, old Malice might have had a chance perhaps. Won't know until I investigate."

[Northwest Slobovia]

"Minerva, the constructs and FUBAR are still out there. I ordered someone to deploy vehicles as part of a rescue convoy, earlier. Can you get me in contact with them? Do you anyone with the radio frequency of Bran's chopper? We need to coordinate the rescue before we lose anyone."

Sandy glanced over at Septimus as he changed the subject and who he was addressing. The attack helicopter was Nikanor's? Wow! He hadn't realized that the Residents possessed heavy weapons. The rest explained where Amanda was going and why, but the implications were all bad: communications were lost and it seemed plans were changing. Sandy would have to take a look for himself... but first things first.

"Sandy, if you don't mind, could you take your things? I have to deal with some other non-medical business. This is your forte, of course," he spoke in an unsteady voice but nevertheless offered the gracious sorcerer a polite smile as he held out the healing supplies, "Tsu, if fortifications are possible with your ice magic, then we have the potential to extend the reach of our ranged combatants. Platforms on the roof would give them a better vantage point and eliminate the blind spots right in front of the Building so that we don't have to worry about the Fiends getting through and wrecking the lobby."

"Of course, of course!" Sandy reached out and took his supplies from Septimus, then turned back to Tsu as Septimus clarified what they wanted. She agreed, pointed a finger, and Sandy Saw and Heard her summon and direct magic like a conductor directs an orchestra. He leaned over the Building's parapet to see what she was producing; from the amount of power she was pulling in, it was going to be big.

The ground shook as a titanic wall of ice started to form, BOOM,BOOM, BOOM echoed as the wall started to form and gained sized quickly. Gigantic spikes formed to deter any fiend or gore those foolish enough to get close to it, the bodies of fiends that were on the ground got stuck on the wall and served as a grim reminder that anything threat will be eliminated by the forces at the building.

Sandy watched the wall grow as Tsu's magic conjured it from nothing. "Marvelous, simply marvelous!", he exclaimed. She seemed to be a mage or something similar, directing magic by force of will rather than by spell. Sandy wondered how broad her abilities were, since many mages were limited to just one or two kinds of magic.

As the wall stopped growing, Sandy turned to her, beaming. "You're amazing! Once this situation is over, we must talk magic. I've got to help with the injured" -- he raised the cups and teapot slightly in his hands -- "but please stop by apartment 6C afterwards."

Sandy took a few steps back, about to start treating people, then turned to take a hasty look where Septimus seemed to have been indicating the rescue mission was going. He followed the bright line of a road to a pair of large dots in the distance -- our people, apparently -- then the dark, swarming mass that must be the Fiends chasing them to the Building. Beyond was a motionless dot, a friendly casualty. Damn! Whoever it was must be the mission's goal. Lifting his eyes a little higher he saw a hazy shape, but couldn't make it out... but on the horizon was a brightly lit spot with skyglow over it. A city! It must be! But that was something for tomorrow. Now, it was time to make sense of the situation on the roof.

There was a line of people going down the stairs; Sandy figured that would happen, that's why he wanted to leave people up here. The injured were scattered around, some people were still in bathtubs, and there was a group of people standing by a hangar. Ah, that's what that was! I'd wondered! Sandy pulled one of the larger pockets on his cargo pants open, and stuffed in the tube of paper cups. It was a bad fit, but he needed a free hand.

The first order of business was triage. Sandy went over to the people by the hangar; mostly villagers, but a few Residents. "Hello, I'm Sandy Bela, a healer. I'm going to need some help getting people the treatment they need." He pointed out a bunch of what seemed like the strongest people and had them come with him. Triage on the roof was a brutal business: the wounds were all cutting and impaling ones -- either by grass or by Fiend -- and it was unfortunately easy to judge their severity by the size of the wounds and the color of the patient. "Deathy pale" was literally true now.

Those who were beyond their means to save he had carried over to one side of the roof; Sandy didn't say why, but they'd figure it out soon enough. The lightly wounded, who'd live regardless of treatment, Sandy sent or had carried into the hangar. The ones who needed treatment he had left where they were. Sandy sometimes dabbed on a little Balm or gave people tiny sips of Ox Blood to ensure they'd last to get that proper treatment. All the while, Sandy kept a tally on the notepad he'd borrowed from the clinic: well enough, moderately injured, severely injured, beyond hope. He shook his head at the numbers of marks collecting in the last two categories; this was bad, very bad.

Feeling an overwhelming disgust and the sudden bump caused Kale to vomit on the Building's roof. Her arms quivered, her skin pale white, and her eyes empty, not looking at anything, with her mouth agape in shock and horror. Too weak and horrified to move, Kale slumped on the tub's edge, one arm dangling free while the other was used to rest her head on.

Uh-oh! This one's not like the others! Sandy rushed over to her, suddenly afraid. Vomiting might mean the Fiends were poisonous or spread disease, and figuring out which was entirely out of his league. Where's Anais? This is her baliwick, not mine. Sandy knelt by the sprawled woman, taking a closer look at her.

"What's wrong? What happened?" A memory snapped into focus: her green hair. "You live here in the Building, don't you? We... we haven't met, but you look very familiar. I'm Sandy, in apartment 6C." Sandy waited anxiously for a response. If she was too sick to say what happened to her, they could be in far deeper trouble.

[Highfort]

Nodding as Sandy complimented Tsu on her handiwork, Septimus briefly observed the sorcerer running off to begin triage before turning his attention back to Minerva as he heard the Captain answer his question. He swallowed hard.

Minerva was right, of course. Neste was designed and constructed to be a killing machine, and he doubted that the Great Convocation would bestow the title of "Malice" so cavalierly. If anything, the rescue team was more in danger from being harmed if they accidentally contracted any of the infections Neste had in store for enemies, let alone taking a radiation or electricity burst point-blank. Logically, there was nothing to fear from the Fiends considering what Neste had dealt with in the past.

So why, then, did his heart race when he brought up her final words over the tether - still in existence, though now terrifyingly silent once more - and pondered them. Why did his chest ache when the soft inflection that indicated she was fading accompanied those words? Why did he entertain the horrifying notion that she might die?

Because she hurt. Because they had hurt her. Because the Fiends and whomever had the ridiculously moronic idea of summoning killer grass had hurt her and he didn't do anything to stop it.

He... couldn't do anything to stop it.

The cyborg looked down at his very fleshy and very useless hands before Minerva met his gaze and he felt the urge to shrink back. He nodded vigorously at her suggestion.

"O-Of course, Captain Blackwater," he suddenly wondered why he felt the need to address her so formally all of a sudden but went along with it, "I'll get down to meet the convoy right away."

Her mention of the grass sent a pang of anger through him, and he clenched his fists involuntarily though a polite smile remained on his face, "If you do find out what brought her down and it's the grass that did it... do inform me, Captain. I'll have to root around and make sure whoever pulled that stunt is sufficiently informed as to why they should never do it again. Some people simply need to be told properly so they don't put others at risk."

Septimus turned to ask Sandy for a ride down but he appeared to be busy with another patient. Triage was far more important than indulging his personal whims of getting everything done quickly so he would have time to fret and worry about Neste, and even in his fragile state, the representative knew that. He had a duty to these people first and to Neste second, much as it pained him to admit that.

"Mr. Bela," he ran over to the sorcerer and noted with some concern that the patient he was treating looked extremely sick, rather than just physically injured, "I'm headed down to alert the rescue convoy as to the danger of the operation. Minerva suggested that we get the mundanes out and leave the operation to the abhumans, who'll be able to better stand up to the Fiends. These bastards aren't pushovers like we'd first anticipated; I'd hate to see anyone else get hurt over this. If you need me at all, I'll be outside with the convoy. Good luck, sir."

The cyborg made his way toward the door on the roof, crowded by the uninjured who were eager to head down to the library.

"Excuse me, coming through, important business," Septimus shoved through the crowd and offered piecemeal apologies as adults and children alike were roughly pushed against the walls, squeezing the villagers together even tighter as he made his way forward before seeing a crowd of villagers and cultists alike at the elevator. The stairs beyond the first flight to get to the elevator were far less-occupied, and he presumed that few were willing to walk down nine stories to get to the lobby.

He didn't have their luxury of time. Rapid clicks and clanks punctuated the chatter of the villagers as he descended the flights, working up a good sweat in the process. He hadn't exercised in quite a long time and it definitely showed, even if his body wasn't the pudgiest it could be. A good metabolism hid the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, a couch and a lab potato, preferring analyzing data and meeting with correspondents over a good run on the treadmill.

By the time he had reached the lobby, the cyborg was definitely feeling the effects of the middle-aged body Neste had chosen to bless him with. Sweat poured down his face and he noted with some embarrassment that parts of his clothes were darkened with heat and perspiration. Still, there wasn't much time to worry about that now. Wiping off the drops with his sleeve, he burst through the front door to confront the convoy, crashing right into Naomi as he huffed and heaved from the exertion.

"Oh, dear, sorry!" he caught himself and pulled her up before she could meet the ground, "Very sorry! Didn't mean to do that!"

Pushing her aside and tugging at her sleeves to clear up the musses from her clothing that his body slam had inflicted, he turned toward the convoy of vehicles, "Minerva's got a suggestion: all the mundanes, stay away from this. Fiends are more of a problem than we expected and she thinks it would be best if those who aren't as hardy as the abhumans stay behind. I concur: we don't need more injured. Our medical supplies and staff are spread thinly enough as it is."

[The Carlisle]

Kale did not respond to Kwa'a's introduction. The girl was too trapped within her mind and emotional state for Kwa'a's response to register. All she did was mumble under her breathe, not looking at her, as if she wasn't there.

"I k..... em..... A..... m... ault...." could be made out from Kale's muffled speech. It wasn't until Sandy's more involved action that Kale stirred. She looked to him, registering his presence, her eyes showing horror. The girl was clearly traumatized, and her actions showed. Using all her strength, she grasped onto Sandy, clinging onto his shirt. He could feel the girl shivering through her arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.... It's all my fault... I didn't mean it..." Kale said between tears, her eyes staring into his chest.

[Monfrox]

Blood-colored blood...what? Okay, this girl was probably out of her right mind due to fatigue.

"I'm fine, let's just get you out of here. C'mon, up we go!"

Brit took the girl up over her shoulders like always and faced towards the door.

"Make a hole!" She ordered.

As the villagers took steps to the side, she began walking with Rim out into the hallway. A few minutes later as she walked into the clinic and took her all the way in back where she had her gear.

"Alright, easy now, easy."

She laid her down on the floor and rolled out the bed roll and her summer sleeping bag before shifting Rim onto it and propping her head onto her pack. She took out one of her canteens and unscrewed the cap before handing it to the girl while still keeping hold of it.

"Here, drink some of this and take a break. Relax, okay? You're just worn out. No need to push yourself."

Brit dug out a Cliff bar from her food bag in her pack and put it next to her.

"When you're done, eat this. You'll feel a lot better, okay?"

[Fvaarniimar]

Kwa'a sighed. So her assessment had been accurate. The girl would need some help, yes, but while Kwa'a's medical skills did consist largely of assessing and dealing with her own wounds, the girl appeared physically unharmed. The man in front of them could potentially save lives; the girl might find living difficult, but was likely at no immediate risk of death. "Shock, I think. Wrong is something. Head, though, or heart. Body...not?"

For that matter, Kwa'a's own wounds were not comfortable, but she was at no risk of dying from them. She would probably need to lose more blood to even fall into a coma. (Sandy might notice a bandaged leg and a wrap of cloth around the woman's neck.) "Go. Others...you need."

--

Rmwtyliin complied, with an, "I am grateful." The drink was cool and refreshing, and while the bedroll and pack probably weren't that soft the girl had gotten up early and had had a hectic morning.

She closed her eyes. She didn't open them for...oh, perhaps a 125th of a day. It could have been slightly less.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Building Roof

"Mr. Bela," he ran over to the sorcerer and noted with some concern that the patient he was treating looked extremely sick, rather than just physically injured, "I'm headed down to alert the rescue convoy as to the danger of the operation. Minerva suggested that we get the mundanes out and leave the operation to the abhumans, who'll be able to better stand up to the Fiends. These bastards aren't pushovers like we'd first anticipated; I'd hate to see anyone else get hurt over this. If you need me at all, I'll be outside with the convoy. Good luck, sir."

Sandy looked up from Kale as Itum spoke to him. He desperately wanted to ask him what Blackwater had said, but Kale needed his attention. If Amanda was no longer part of rescue mission, the details could wait. "By the convoy, right. And thank you."

It wasn't until Sandy's more involved action that Kale stirred. She looked to him, registering his presence, her eyes showing horror. The girl was clearly traumatized, and her actions showed. Using all her strength, she grasped onto Sandy, clinging onto his shirt. He could feel the girl shivering through her arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.... It's all my fault... I didn't mean it..." Kale said between tears, her eyes staring into his chest.

Oh, boy! Ohboyohboy! Whatever's wrong with her is completely out of my league. PTSD? Survivor grief? There are people who specialize in those, and I am not one of them. Sandy tried to look friendly and sound comforting; he wasn't sure if his own worries showed through. "It's ok. You're among friends. You're safe here." Very gently, he peeled the green-haired girl's hands from his shirt, taking them into his own, and holding them softly.

What had happened to her out there? Should I ask? Should I not? Sandy considered that for a few seconds, a worried look on his face; he had no way of deciding which was better in terms of psychological care. He hoped Anais' magic extended to treating the mind, because otherwise, he didn't think there was anybody on the roof who could help. Sandy concluded that even if asking wasn't the best for her in the long run, it would give them something more to work with; something he could tell Anais or another healer. Sandy smiled at her, and spoke calmly. "You're ok now, you're safe. Please tell me what happened."

Kwa'a sighed. So her assessment had been accurate. The girl would need some help, yes, but while Kwa'a's medical skills did consist largely of assessing and dealing with her own wounds, the girl appeared physically unharmed. The man in front of them could potentially save lives; the girl might find living difficult, but was likely at no immediate risk of death. "Shock, I think. Wrong is something. Head, though, or heart. Body...not?"

For that matter, Kwa'a's own wounds were not comfortable, but she was at no risk of dying from them. She would probably need to lose more blood to even fall into a coma. (Sandy might notice a bandaged leg and a wrap of cloth around the woman's neck.) "Go. Others...you need."

Sandy eyes darted around as he looked for the source of the sigh; he hadn't realized somebody else was here. He found Kwa'a's face just as she said "head". Sandy nodded agreement at her, quietly adding "Soon". He'd go in a moment, but he felt Kale needed at least a few seconds more of his time. After that, he'd let Kwa'a keep her company.

Rescue Convoy
Amanda watched in amazement as an immense wall of ice sprouted from the ground. It grew beyond her view from inside the jeep, and she stuck her head partway out the driver's window to get a better look. She muttered to herself, a pleased expression on her face. "Looks like Sandy found the other spellcaster, and whoever it was really delivered on the wall."

“Well then, don’t mind if I do,” she murmured to herself, letting her powers lift her off the rooftop floor and sent her descending down back to the front where a convoy had gathered in the front. She bit down a smirk when the same flying rodent was hit, it seemed unfazed by the impact. Her descent was quick, quiet and within moments Mab stood by an old jeep with a woman at the wheel.

“I will join you,” she declared simply and without introduction, hopping into the vehicle.

Amanda barely had time to sweep her gun and extra ammunition off the passenger seat and into her lap before her unexpected passenger could sit down on them. "Um, hello? I'm Amanda, and welcome to my jeep!" She made a joke of it, not quite sure how else to respond. "And you are?"

[H]e turned toward the convoy of vehicles, "Minerva's got a suggestion: all the mundanes, stay away from this. Fiends are more of a problem than we expected and she thinks it would be best if those who aren't as hardy as the abhumans stay behind. I concur: we don't need more injured. Our medical supplies and staff are spread thinly enough as it is."

Amanda was surprised to hear Mr. Itum's voice, and ducked her head awkwardly to get a look at him through the passenger-side windows. She shivered at his message: how close to getting killed had she come? She'd better find out. She started to ask Septimus, but shouting across her unknown passenger was rude. She politely excused herself, unbucked her seat belt, got out, and spoke to him over the hood of the jeep.

"I can leave the mission, but you'll be down a driver, a vehicle, and seats for several rescuers or survivors. What did Captain Blackwater say the danger is?"

[Mincaldenteans]

Anais
The Ritualist had finally made her way up to the roof, though it was no one’s fault, per se. Having to wade through the crowds and attending a few that needed more help than their reassurance could convince her otherwise, she reached the rooftop a little short of breath and noted with some despair an equal amount of wounded… and bathtubs, but never mind the odd appearance of bathroom fixtures. She took a deep breath, walking slowly and assessing the wounded for what they were, ignoring her own power that begged its release to mend the injured and bring peace to those that would pass long before the sun would rise.

It was only then she felt the difference. The air, while foul of blood, smoke, and other bodily fluids, felt different. Anais noted it just felt displaced and the obvious open space before them rather than the city scape that was Bielefeld gave it away that the building had shifted. She couldn’t stop to question or wonder why, however, as her attention went straight back for the wounded.

The ritualist spotted Sandy with two others she did not recognize, or rather, not formally met, though seen in passing a few times. The first one was bandaged at the leg, while the other looked pale as though she suffered from something not physically shown. Anais refrained from frowning and instead placed a hand on Sandy’s shoulder to get his attention; she only nodded in greeting and went straight to business.

“Alexia requested I be here, she said you needed an extra hand. I shall work immediately, but have you been able to assess which injured need the most help?” She looked up to see the many groups, disjointed, separated, yet unified in their need, their fatigue, desperation, and overwhelming sadness and terror. Anais didn’t need Cherry’s abilities to sense it, it was etched in their faces and the manner in which they held themselves.

The ritualist shook her head, having contemplated re-summoning a spirit of rejuvenation, though it would deprive those in the dining hall of it where Ogoti and Sanjay were currently tending. She would wait until the spirits duration in this plane field, which would be gone within minutes given how many it was slowly healing in that room. Anais faced Sandy again, “I can handle groups at a time, but the healing process will be slow, their life force may not react well with their physical conditions if I try anything too powerful. I will also need able bodies to transport those sufficiently mended down to the library for additional tending while I move through the injured here. Do we have spare hands up here to assist us?”

--//\\--

Mab
Mab remained in her seat, folding her arms and avoided answering Amanda’s direct question. She may have entertained that with beings such as Fritz, but kine like Amanda and their ilk? She’d rather string them along. The lived this long (granted a blink in Mab’s eyes), they could certainly piece it together sooner or later. When Amanda addressed her concerns, Mab merely perked an eyebrow: the mortal had a point.

The fae murmured politely for Amanda’s ears only, “A suitable concern. Do point out that using this conveyance is rather distracting from a tactical standpoint,” she said sweetly, flashing a smile as she continued, “As liberating as it is to fly, I doubt very much that would be effective carrying out our objective. Do press the issue with him, won’t you, dear? And this… thing,” Mab tried not to visibly fuss with being in the passenger seat of the vehicle, “looks small, perhaps agile? Would it do well in a quick dash? Matter little, you steer this transport and I will keep the enemy at bay until the situation calls otherwise.”

The darkness within her was protesting that the convoy wasn’t moving along, already pleading and tempting her to leave the convoy and set out for challenge ahead. She knew better, of course and remained seated.

[Torsiedelle]

There it happened again...

Torii rolled her eyes. First the convoy rolls out of nowhere, and now people were walking by and saying that it was more dangerous than expected, and now they needed to fall back. Why the hell were other people out there then, and why was she doing all of this? She had no sense of what was going on, and her being ignored wasn't helping; in fact, that, coupled with the incompetence of their "leaders" and the random abhuman monsters in the building was starting to piss her off. What the hell was going on, why were they not in Bielefield anymore, and why the hell were they being attacked and disturbed in the middle of the night?

She turned around and simply walked back towards the lobby door. She had changed her mind. She wasn't dealing with this shit so late at night. If something needed shooting, then she'd do it from the comfort of the building, and not moving in some hastily-assembled force or to go rescue some idiots who went running out, the exception being possibly the Klingon and the Drone, since she had an interest in the robot, and the Klingon's charisma and love of battle endeared her.

Why Marcus and Myra were there, she didn't know, but she hoped they knew what they were doing. She certainly didn't.

She walked back inside, past Flint and Mon, and ignored her sister's confused expression. "Where are the healers at? What the fuck is going on right now?", She said aloud in the lobby. "Where's someone who I can actually work with, like Mister Thriller, or better yet, one of the Raptors?", She rambled. She checked her ammunition and wiped her bayonet to clean it a bit.

[The Carlisle]

Kale listened to Sandy's words like they were the only sound that was being made. She's fine, she's safe, she's with friends. But the people in the grass weren't. they weren't fine, they weren't safe, they were with their friends. They were violently ripped away, torn to shreds in a most cruel and painful way, and sent to the realm of spirits. All her fault... all her doing... Why does she deserve all this when she took that all away from so many people?

"I don't deserve that... any of that...." Kale said, shivering, "I... I took so many away.... It's all my fault...."

Some more reality snapped back in, as another person came to her. The thoughts in her head clicked for one moment, allowing her to discern something in the chaos in her mind. They were healers.

She let go of Sandy, inching away from the other, bumping her back against the far tub wall. "I-II'm fine! No injuries! none at all!" She said, raising her arms to show no wounds. The girl was clearly not injured bodily, but her mind was scarred. Anyone can discern that. "Go. Leave me. There are more urgent... more deserving of care than me," she said, looking at all three of them with those horror filled eyes, "Please go and help them, that's all I ask for."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Sandy looked up at Anais' touch, and acknowledged her with a nod, but inclined his head towards Kale to indicate that she also had his attention. He turned back to Kale, hoping she'd say something. Anais managed to get most of her message across before Kale spoke, but he'd need to ask for a repetition of the last part, as it was lost under Kale's words.

"I don't deserve that... any of that...." Kale said, shivering, "I... I took so many away.... It's all my fault...."
[...]
She let go of Sandy, inching away from the other, bumping her back against the far tub wall. "I-II'm fine! No injuries! none at all!" She said, raising her arms to show no wounds. The girl was clearly not injured bodily, but her mind was scarred. Anyone can discern that. "Go. Leave me. There are more urgent... more deserving of care than me," she said, looking at all three of them with those horror filled eyes, "Please go and help them, that's all I ask for."

Sandy looked startled, then worried, as Kale raved. He guessed survivor guilt, but admitted to himself that was a complete shot in the dark. Still, he tried to calm the frightened girl. "Everybody here is deserving of care. We'll help them, but we'll come back and help you too."

Sandy slowly rose, keeping his eyes on Kale as he did. As he reached standing, he turned to Kwa'a, and softly asked a question. "Could you keep her company until we return?"

Sandy led Anais a few steps away from Kale and whispered to her. "That's the most I've been able to get from her. I was hoping you or one of the other healers might be able to help her. Something happened to her outside the Building during the fighting with the Fiends. I'm not very sure what went on outside. I treated a patient with severe leg injuries, and the people who carried her in said that the grass outside suddenly grew very tall, then attacked them. I'm not sure what that means, but her injuries and the injuries I've seen here are cutting and stabbing wounds.

"All of the injured here were brought here in the bath tubs; somebody with one of the Chaos cults cast a huge spell do to that. Another Chaos cultist cast a spell only slightly less intense that ignited a fire that burned as far as I could see from the lobby. I guess that cleared the grass. I don't know anything else about what might have happened to her, but perhaps knowing that will help."

Anais
“Alexia requested I be here, she said you needed an extra hand. I shall work immediately, but have you been able to assess which injured need the most help?” [...] Anais faced Sandy again, “I can handle groups at a time, but the healing process will be slow, their life force may not react well with their physical conditions if I try anything too powerful. I will also need able bodies to transport those sufficiently mended down to the library for additional tending while I move through the injured here. Do we have spare hands up here to assist us?”

Sandy asked Anais to repeat the last sentence, then answered her questions as a unit, still very quietly. "I'm most of the way through triage. I started at the front of the roof and I've been working my way back here. Captain Blackwater was here when I arrived, and she had the uninjured stand by the hangar over there. I've been moving the slightly injured -- those who will live without our help -- there as well. Those who too badly injured to save are by the edge of the roof. The ones in the middle here I judged that we could treat, but it's a mix of moderately and severely wounded people. I have been using alchemetical cures on the ones that I thought were treatable if we could get to them in time, so that they didn't die beforehand. I can go back and point them out to you."

Sandy dug his pad of paper out of his pocket, and showed it to Anais. "I've been keeping a tally of the injured by severity so that we can direct our limited manpower to where it's needed most. If you'd like to start triaging at the back, we could finish up faster... and if you could also keep a tally, we could merge the tallies, and then I'll send it down to the other healers, so that they can see it and reply with their own counts. I have another pen and can tear you off a sheet of paper."

Sandy paused, recalling Anais' repeated question. "I asked a bunch of the uninjured to help me sort people out. But I'm not sure--" Sandy stopped as he saw a few people emerge from the staircase, look around, and start heading for Anais and him. An unfamilar teenager was the first to reach them, running across the roof. He said, "The mayor sent us. I'm a message runner. The adults will help you take people downstairs." Sandy thanked him, then turned back to Anais with a grin. "I guess we have our help."

Rescue Convoy

The fae murmured politely for Amanda’s ears only, “A suitable concern. Do point out that using this conveyance is rather distracting from a tactical standpoint,” she said sweetly, flashing a smile as she continued, “As liberating as it is to fly, I doubt very much that would be effective carrying out our objective. Do press the issue with him, won’t you, dear? And this… thing,” Mab tried not to visibly fuss with being in the passenger seat of the vehicle, “looks small, perhaps agile? Would it do well in a quick dash? Matter little, you steer this transport and I will keep the enemy at bay until the situation calls otherwise.”

Amanda blinked, and tried to make sense of Mab's twisted verbiage. She was stonewalling, and on an oddly simple question. No, not stonewalling, she was slipping around something... more slippery than a mob lawyer. Amanda momentarily flashed back to Ocho's comment about the devil being a force to reckon with in his own lawyerly domain, but no, that didn't work: one of his servants would have passed off a plausible lie.

She shook her head slightly; ask whom? It made little sense... and perhaps it didn't matter now.

"All right, keep your name secret. Yes, the jeep is quite agile, and it'll do 70 miles an hour in a pinch. I'm not quite sure I like the last part of what you said, but I'll drive you regardless. If you're here, there's a good reason for it."

[Fvaarniimar]

She wasn't sure she should ask.  So she sat awhile.  Experimentally, she flexed her toes... Not great.  A little numb.  The leg was terribly sore now that she could focus on soreness. The cool rock of the roof helped somewhat...soothing... That bath which she'd thought of earlier... Ahhh. Bubbles. Salts or oils - no, both. Warm, not too hot... Maybe some lights surrounding... Could she justify candles? Not really. It wasn't that different an ambiance, and a fire would presumably upset whoever her landlord was.

It occurred to her then that although she was technically keeping the girl company, someone daydreaming the time away was hardly good company. Kwa'a was tired, didn't feel like talking - particularly about anything negative. Much as she didn't wish to, however, she thought talking might help the girl... Should she ask? Maybe it would be better for them both to focus on something positive.

"When off roof... What you want to do? I..." She sighed, gasping as another pain shot through her leg. "I want...a bath. Warm, nice, smelly." Er. "Scenty?" Then she looked at the girl's face again. After Ythfiid, she had hardly wished to focus on simple pleasures of the future. It needed to be addressed. Whatever 'it' was.

"I'm sorry. What you your fault think?"
--
Rmwtyliin blinked, and sat up.  Hungry.  She was hungry.  Something to eat... Was there not something she had been given? Yes, there was. Part of it was red. Oh. That was the container. It was the kind one tore to get open. The red would have kept her from eating the contents normally. This wasn't exactly normal - someone had given it as medicine of a sort. The bloodcolor-animal-head drink had helped. She tried the bar - chewy, tasted sweet but rather strange. Her stomach felt more full.
---
Nick had continued anesthetizing... His paw sat on the belly of someone with a painful but not otherwise bad bite. Suddenly they groaned. Had it not worked? Contact had been maintained long enough to go both ways, as the cat had needed a bit of rest, the chest was inviting, and that wasn't where the bad wound was. Hungry.

He moved on, thinking little of it. But after his next two patients also complained of hunger, it occurred to him that it might have something to do with his own...grumbling...belly.

With that understood, he switched directions, heading for the kitchen... More accurately starting to head for the kitchen. The library, suddenly, was huge. It had been large for a while, but, focused, he had not realized just how large...

[Primordial Luxa]

Primordial was trying to make sense of some of the readings the DEiMOS was picking up, but it was difficult because he didn’t have time to fully adjust some of the more delicate devices and it appeared that some of the more fragile ones had been totally or partially destroyed by the sudden shift. While the outside of a DEiMOS was incredibly well defended the inside had a level of instability due to the strange geometry and alien angles which gave it much of its power. However he was able to get some useful data from an intensive medium range scan.

The amorphous extra-galactic light readers were able to bounce a trio of intrinsic fields off of the nearby stars in order to give Primordial a basic read out of the solar content which, showed they most likely weren’t putting out any dangerous sorts of radiation or harmful rays. The singular shadowloom shroud used its complex set of radar based shades in order to bounce sentient blackness across the nearby area to detect the location, position and size of regions where light from a light source was obstructed by an opaque object. Running this through a computer and then a printer gave him a rough map of the surrounding area based on the shadows it was casting, he would need to make more of these pictures at different times in the day for more accurate readings but it would do for now.

After that he turned on the quantum fungoid ichor, a set of sub-sub-atomic mushrooms which could grow on individual protons and quarks. They possessed a power nervous electrical system which made them effective organic probes and by using the aliens angles of the DEiMOS he was able to have them simultaneous exist in his lab and in several nearby sources of water for a few microseconds at a time. Then by testing the electrical effects he concluded that while there was salt water oceans the rivers appeared to be fresh water. However there was some uncertainty to this and he resolved to investigate once things were calmer.

All the while readouts from the psychometric flensing psionics, red cross sigil and the atomic liquid Grimore gave fluctuating and sometimes contradictory accounts of different alien phenomena forces all across the scanned area. This showed that there was probably a large amount of hidden lower realities, intrinsic field manipulators, or Arcanotech constructs nearby, or in the terms of species who still enjoyed the privilege of sanity, magick. Similarly contradictory accounts about definite radiological and gravitational phenomena were coming from the patterns traced by the clairvoyant tarot blade as it danced across the fabrics of colored medieval styled paper. Some of these account worried and intrigued Primordial since some would be intensely fatal but without proper readings he simply wasn’t sure.

[Swith Witherward]

Minerva stepped out of Time and staggered forward. This dimension was like no other, and the effort to use her ability (without killing herself in the process!) had taken its toll on Purna. Ash rolled off the ground in little puffs as her boots tread upon the scorched earth, and her breathing was slightly labored due to the overwhelming stench of burnt flesh that drifted on the winds. She passed what remained of sheep that had been torn asunder by Kale's grass before igniting in Hans' flames. The Fiend wall stood between her and the Building - it was rolling along at a good clip - but her mind was focused on the large beast in front of her.

Scel lay on her side, the great chest wall shuddering as the creature gasped its last breaths. Even in this compromised position, it was huge. Its shoulder crested far above Minerva's head, and the legs were easily as thick as her entire body. The exo's claws were curled in agony, and its odd face had twisted into a grin to match. The Cultist Leader paused a few feet from the snout. The last time she had been this close to this particular unit, it was during Bielefeld's construction, and she had given the Nifid creature wide berth.

Her arm extended, and her hand trembled as she dared herself to touch the abomination. Fingertips came to rest on Scel's nose. Minerva marveled at how soft it was, and how cold the skin had grown. The exo was dying and there wasn't a damn thing that she or any other magic user could do for it other than perhaps to offer it some comfort.

"Hello Neste," the hand settled more firmly on the creature, and then Minerva rested the other beside it. Each inhale pulled the loose strands of her hair towards Scel, and the exhale whispered oddly scented notes reminiscent of a vanilla-based perfume. Odd. Minerva thought it would smell fetid to match the Nifid's ugly exterior.

"We might be able to airlift you back to the Building. I just need to see if you're rigged for it, alright? I'm not going to harm you. I'm just going to look around for hoist points. You just rest easy, dear."

---

"But dad, I-!"

Thaddeus' scowl tore away the last of Marcus' resolve. His arm raised to extend a solitary, pointing Finger of Command (or so Marcus had always called it) that meant - under no uncertain terms - that he was to return to the Building at once. There was no way in hell the old cyborg would allow his son to drive some shitty truck into the thick of Fiends. For that matter, neither would Naomi.

The avatar had righted herself after Septimus' impact, but she hadn't much time to speak to him before Thaddeus' voice rose once more.

"You, too," the old cyborg's head rotated to bathe Myra with the same fierce expression. "What the hell are you thinking, stealing my truck like that? Go. No complaints. You're lucky I don't tell your father about your nonsense!"

Both teens eyed each other. Thwarted! Oh yeah, there wasn't any getting around it. Their glory would come while defending the Building and not through the foolish belief that they were crack drivers capable of actually surviving the mission. Marcus supposed his father was right but, DAMN IT, why embarrass him like this in front of all these people? His only buoyant thought was that Giovenith wasn't standing outside to witness it.

"C'mon, Myra," came the grumpy murmur from the boy denied a chance to be a hero in his own mind. "I think Tora already went back inside."

This was true enough. She'd left before Ocho could answer her question. The thade shifted his position atop the large rig in order to study the retreating teens better. He put them out of his mind once they had gained the Building's front door.

"Might be a good idea to follow suit," he murmured for Amanda's benefit. Wouldn't be good at all if he lost his colleague. Perhaps they were all being a bit too rash?

Ocho shifted again, his head tilted to the side as he reflected upon the matter. "What's our game plan?"

---

The villagers in the Building were finally starting to calm down, and the lull in their fears gave them time to reflect on their situation. Some of them were staring at the spare body parts that had been sewn onto them. These poor souls would need intensive therapy to cope with the horror of the situation. Others - mainly those in the library - were echoing Rmw's thoughts: what's for eating? Still others had found quiet corners and had tucked themselves into them in order to banish their exhaustion.


"I haven't time to sit just yet," the Mayor kindly explained to Giovenith, although the thoughtful gesture wasn't lost on her. "There's still some organizing to do. I fear the shock of all this will kick in soon, and people are going to start demanding answers of me."

Ah, the joys of being in a leadership role.

"Tell me, do you have coffee or tea or food? That might help appease their concerns for the time being."


The little girl cocked her head at Willow's question. Her eyes widened. How could somebody not know about the toy makers? The notion was inconceivable!

"No, sir, I meant the other Ponies. They're like you, only they don't have wings. They talk, and sorta look like you, and have Cutie Marks on their butts, too. They own the toy shop, and they make the best toys ever. I mean, ever. And they don't break easy. The toys, I mean. And every birthday is so much better because we know we'll find one in a box with ribbons and paper, and then we bring them to school and show all our friends."

The hag cackled at the child's zeal. "Sir, she'll talk your ears off if you let her. Come here, child, and let's sing another song. Leave this Pegasi to his work, there's a good lamb."

---

  Nifidium Machina Mortifero N-Series Recovery Hub
  Version 9.1.3, Beta
  Ready...
> launch bootstrap trilb t15a
  Bootstrap launched. Estimated time until completion:  95 seconds. Please stand by. 
> access command panel
  This is a high security area. Passphrase required.
> oppugn cumberground
  Passphrase recognized.
  Welcome to the Thoughtstream NST 3v1. Where may I take you today?
> to hell
  The location you have selected is not a recognized destination. Where may I take you today?
> inner sanctum
  Please stand by while higher tier is accessed.
  Inner Sanctum accessed. Welcome NST 3v1. Awaiting command.
> exo diagnostic report 
  Diagnostic Report
  System........................NST 3v1 Shell, "Scelerata"
  Applications..................(Exoskeleton offline)
  Processes ....................Bootstrap Trilb T15A
  Connections...................None detected
  Exo Status....................(Exoskeleton offline)
  Exoskeleton systems critically damaged. This unit is not operational. Recommended course of action: euthanize unit.
  Shall I launch Protocol VI?
> no
  Awaiting command.
 

Protocol VI. It hung in the back of every higher construct's mind, a boggart that danced on the fringe of consciousness. It was the reward for catastrophic failure, and most constructs refused to even wince in its direction lest it somehow reach out from the depths to drag them into oblivion. But, for one particular construct, it was an elusive beast painstakingly tracked through the centuries but never captured. To a creature that had grown weary with the drudgery of her existence, Protocol VI couldn't come soon enough.

Until now.

Now it loomed close. She could reach out and latch on to it. It was the opportunity to end a lifetime. But now, after all these centuries, she actually had something worth living for. She had hope, and love, and a chance at normalcy. Her prey became a boggart, and Neste recoiled from it in fear as it rose from the depths of her tiny processor and extended its claws.

The fluid filling her pod was slowly clouding. The pinkish tinge stained her skin. She blanched at the taste of her own blood.

This unit is not operational. Recommended course of action: euthanize unit.

Neste whimpered and feebly kicked out a leg. Her toes struck the tissue comprising the pod's wall, robbing her of her resolve as they uselessly slide down the membrane. The prompt displayed by her processor blinked and she growled. No, this wasn't the time to whimper and hide. Fuck that. She was too old, and too stubborn, and too damn proud to let a bunch of rats and grass take her down.

> override pilot safety protocol alpha
  Passphrase required
> fuck me running
  Passphrase recognized. Pilot Safety Protocol Alpha override permitted.
> eject pilot and biosink exo
  Initiating Exoskeleton BioSink. Prepare for pilot ejection.

Minerva gazed at Scel's back. The pale moonlight should have reflected off the glowing blue vines that seemed to interlace the exo's skin. These had grown dim, nearly fading in their entirety. She breathed a sigh and continued looking for loops or strap points. Surely these creatures could be lifted somehow? Perhaps they'd throw straps around the entire body and worry about decontamination later?

A sharp crack startled her. It was followed by a creepy splattering sound that drove Minerva's heart into her throat. She sprinted around the exo, skidding on the powdery ash with enough force to lose her footing. Landing hard on her hip, she winced, and then set her eyes on the form that had obviously been expelled by the exo itself. The Cultist Leader looked back at the beast and realized that she was looking inside it, deep into that place where the pilot rested. Slick intestines pulsed and quivered from their resting place on the ground, and the exo exerted a final, wheezing groan before growing completely still.

"Oh, damn. Oh!"

She was at the pilot's side in an instant, graceful hands grasping Neste's mucous-covered shoulders as Minerva attempted to roll her onto her side. The grass had somehow pierced the exo deeply enough to strike the little lizard, and the gashes bleed freely. The construct shuddered at her touch, momentarily blinded by Minerva's insanity, and then she feebly wretched in an attempt to purge the fluid from her lungs.

Minerva rolled onto her sore hip and cradled Neste for a moment, then began to tap her back to help her cough up the snot. As slick as a newborn fawn, and equally as weak, the lizard offered no protest as the blows roused her into deep coughs. Her feathery hair remained plastered to her skull and shoulders, and her ganglion stem flopped uselessly against the muddy ash surrounding her.

Neste coughed up a large bolus and then slumped against Minerva. The Cultist Leader cast her eyes towards Scel in a futile attempt to get aid, but she recoiled and hauled Neste back with her. The exo had sprouted a thick fuzz. The velvet of decay continued to coat her before Minerva's eyes, obscuring her completely, and then the entire mess began to deflate as the biomass pooled onto the ground and leached into the soil. The sudden stench of death rolled out from it. Minerva turned her head to the side and narrowly missed coating Neste with vomit.

She freed up a hand to wipe away flecks of last night's supper, then grasped the creature tightly. "You're immune to magic, but this isn't magic."

True enough, really. Minerva stepped out of Time, hauling the construct with her just as the first rays of sunlight broke the horizon to touch the withered fields.

---

In the fields afar, FUBAR's optics scanned the Fiend wall. This was to be their final stand. It posed itself over Buttons and raised its weapons, and fired. The blast never struck.

The wall rolled and then exploded with the force of a small hurricane. A new sort of ash billowed out of it and the Fiends, defeated by the magic of day, disintegrated before FUBAR's gaze.

A deathly silence remained, echoing and ringing in Button's ears. She lifted her head and stared at where the foe had just been, and relief washed over her. Carefully crawling from beneath FUBAR's odd feet, the exo rose upon wobbly legs and turned to face the Building. Her enhanced vision could make out the forms of the extraction team, as well as Bran's helicopter in the skies above. The floating bathtubs clustering around the Building's roof made no sense to her, but she also wasn't in any state of mind to make sense of anything.

"We go back now?" the exo lowly purred and attempted to take another step forward. She staggered instead and came to rest against FUBAR's cold exterior.

---

"Make a hole!" Minerva barked the moment she entered Time once more. There were too many chances of accidentally merging with people, or frightening them, so she had chosen to step into reality a few feet from the Building itself.

"Thaddeus, I need you. Now!"

She spared no other explanation as she carried Neste towards sanctuary. The construct's humanoid face was slack, and the horns painfully knocked against Minerva's side.

"Give her to me," Ocho hopped from his perch. "Your thoughts will kill her. She can't block. She also can't touch my species' minds."

He lifted the nude humanoid from Minerva's arms and cradled her to his chest, holding tightly to keep his grip on the slippery body. "The clinic. It's more private. Don't let the Raptors near her."

Thaddeus abandoned his attempts to join the extraction team. From what he could see at this distance, the enemy had vanished in a black cloud. He jogged after Ocho, taking the front steps two at a time, and pushed through those gathered at the door in order to kick open the clinic door.

"Treatment room. Someone find Rodney."

---

The villagers on the rooftop gave a loud shout as dawn broke. Salvation! Temporary, but so sweet! News of the sunrise became a wildfire that tore down the stairwell, passed on by joyous lips. They now had some breathing room, although nobody would hazard a guess as to how long it would last. It could be another week before they saw Fiends again, or a month. The creatures could also return once the sun set again.

[Torsiedelle]

Torii was still in the lobby, and still confused and angry, rambling on and wondering where everyone had gone to. She was still quick to notice her two friends, however, when they reached the door. Hey, at least someone had stopped by, but weren't they with a convoy?

She hoped they wouldn't mind her appearance. She held her AK-74 down and approached them, a mixture of impatience and confusion on her face. Her expression became even more puzzled as she saw behind them, at the enemy retreat and the scene outside. "Can you guys please tell me what the hell is going on?", She asked, sighing. "I got tossed out of bed, and shot some shit. I really haven't been in on the loop besides that. Weren't you guys going out to help FUBAR? What the hell are those assholes doing out there?", She shot out. "Why have I been ignored so much? What's with all the weird villagers? Why are we in a field? Where's Chaos? The bar, not the people. It's weird to not see it outside."

[The BranRiech]

"Damn, someone talk to me." Bran sighed, basically sitting blind up there in the skies, watching the slaughter of fiends below him. There wasn't much left for his chopper to do, though he still had a healthy amount of rockets left. The rockets felt a little dangerous to Bran, who, at all costs, wanted nothing more than to avoid friendly-fire. Considering the rockets were built to take out tanks, getting someone caught in the area of the explosion would have been pretty easy.

Looking down towards the controls, the sole-pilot of the helicopter knew that he still had the 12.7mm chainguns, located under the cockpit aiming down. They were usually for the co-pilot to operate, as a deterrent against infantry and even small vehicles. They could slice through something as large as an armored car in seconds, leaving nothing but a bullet-ridden husk.

"Auto-hover . . . Seatbelt, uh, yeah, good." Bran nodded, clambering out of the pilot's seat back into the spacious cargo-bay.

Right below where he'd climbed from, a small hatch existed, giving someone access to the co-pilot's seat while the helicopter was in-flight, which was exactly what Bran had crawled through to get to the co-pilot's seat. He dusted off the control panels with a swish of his sleeve, and strapped himself in.

Several moments after, observers would be able to tell the chopper hadn't fired much. To dispel this notion, the crackle of rapid-fire snapped over the field, and a hail of bullets rained out towards the fiends, mowing down a large swath of them.

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

It seemed to be over, at least for the moment. Crysal was a little disappointed by that. She'd set up this glorious improvised shield wall, and for what? All of the fiends to go away because of the sunrise. "... I'm almost saddened by that." She sighed, letting her guard down only a little. "Stay in your positions for a half-hour in case that's just a trick, then go to eat breakfast in shifts of two or three."

Her improvised militia let out a collection of nods, yesses, and a few goddamnits. Crysal would catch up with Adri later. Food was on her mind. She wasn't sure when they'd come back, but it'd be a good idea to fortify as much as possible for safety's sake.

---

Adri rubbed her stinging leg slightly, wiping her forehead. She wasn't feeling too well (the combination of scratches, bandages, and disinfectant wasn't a recipe for comfort), and combined with how exhausted she was, she elected to keep sitting in place, staring up at the ceiling while her mind got to work on the question of where the hell where they, and perhaps a little more importantly, how to get home.

[Highfort]

She was there in Minerva's arms.

Septimus was about to address the comments that had popped up among the convoy's crew, but he was struck dumb as the Captain emerged from the rift carrying with her his soul mate. He didn't even make time to crack a comment about the sunrise having just barely saved them from a battle they had quickly begun to lose after those damn killer weeds had shown up. All else was erased from his mind as he took in Neste's face - her construct face, the one she only showed to those deserving of it - and Minerva passed right by him to deposit Neste's battered body in the arms of the hunched thade.

"Clinic," he repeated, following Thaddeus and pushing silently through those blocking the door as he followed the larger cyborg and the space weasel inside to attend to Neste. He needed to know she'd be okay - for her sake and for his. He wasn't so sure his mental state would remain stable if anything else were to happen - the representative was nearing the end of his rope as it was and he was exhausted from all the yelling and running and thinking and just... everything.

And how funny, too, that just the day before he had curled up with Neste and they'd intended to sleep off a nice meal after the little reunion with the Velocidoctor. How strange was fate's sense of humor, he thought.

He couldn't remain. He had others to tend to - such was the burden of civil servitude. His concerns were not just his nor his lover's nor even his friend's - but of all those who he claimed to represent and all those in suffering and in need in his general proximity. Neste was only one such individual, as special as she was.

But he'd be damned if anyone was going to hurt her from now on.

Peering one last time at Neste's body as she was set up for treatment in the clinic, Septimus addressed the two burly men, "I'll get in contact with Rodney and post guards. If her status changes, you let me know immediately. Immediately, am I understood?"

As he waited for an answer, he turned and snapped his fingers toward the lobby, catching the attention of two of the former door guards who were enjoying the rays of dawn as they sat and relaxed in the lobby's chairs.

"You two," Septimus jerked his head toward the clinic door, the minotaur and the cyclops he was addressing letting out groans of discontent as they stood from their comfortable positions and grabbed for their weapons, "Stand by this door and don't let anyone in unless the men inside give you permission. If anyone wants to come in and they don't take no for an answer, beat it into them."

The minotaur offered a grunt of acknowledgment and, thanks to his better judgment, Septimus clarified the statement.

"No one is to die, but if you must knock them to the ground and keep them there, then do it," he eyed the one-eyed shepherd to make sure that he understood, and he responded with a wave of his club and a scratch of his bald head. Good. The cyborg offered a satisfied grin; he could use more people like this - people who understood their place and understood how to follow orders.

And with that he was off to the lobby to discern Rodney Bodkins' whereabouts.