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

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The Carlisle
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Carlisle » Mon Sep 21, 2015 6:15 pm

Kale never had the best balance. So when the large mass of tardigrade hit the ground nearby, the little plant girl wobbled and fell. She hit the stone steps, bruising herself. She rubbed her arm, but then looked to the mass of grass she created. She crossed her arms quickly and regained focus on it. Kale knew at that instant that something went wrong. She could feel and see it. Whether it was from the unfocusing of ehr power or her rush to regain control, something went wrong.

On the fringes of the mass of grass sprouted more grass. It didn't grab at anything, but grew tall and fast. The growth of grass radiated from the center, quickly covering the front yard with tall grass, spreading over dirt roads and other fields. It towered high, reaching 3 meters in height before stopping.

"Crap!" Kale said helplessness in her voice. It had been a while since something like this happened. And now it was happening at the worst time. She couldn't get control of it without unfocusing on the mass of grass holding some of the beasts back. But the grass block direct line of sight on the beasts and the civilians. Thankfully, at the very least, the grass appeared to not be grabbing anyone. It just grew and grew.
Last edited by The Carlisle on Mon Sep 21, 2015 6:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Tsuyoi Tekikoku
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Ex-Nation

Postby Tsuyoi Tekikoku » Mon Sep 21, 2015 6:53 pm

Tsu and her sister Edge, shot awake. They slept threw the building’s movement, but the PA had awaken them. Confused and Dazzled they got dressed, as both rushed towards the door. Tsu had stopped Edge, and looked for words for a second before finally speaking up. “Stay here Edge, I know your completely capable of combat. But i don’t want you to get hurt, maybe you can help some of the other residents with something, but right now, leave combat to me. I’ll make us some popsicles after this is over!” Tsu said before running off, Edge wanted to say something but sighed and smiled at her sister.

Tsu formed a bow of Ice, and ran straight towards the roof. She could assist by providing covering support. She turned the stairs and ran up, kicked open the door to the roof, created a large block of ice to supply herself with arrows and took aim. She pulled back her bow, aiming straight for a fiend, and let go. It zoomed like a shining beacon of hope threw the tall grass created by Kale and pelted the fiend right in the chest, knocking it down and pinning it to the ground. With a smug look on her face, Tsu shouted. “Sorry their noose!” She quickly took aim again, started to fire at other target. “Your head is going to be a fine red mist!”

She formed other arrow out of the block of ice, took aim and fired again. “Take that you lard armed simpleton!”
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Giovenith
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Founded: Feb 08, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Mon Sep 21, 2015 7:06 pm

Catching her own name over the roar of the crowd, Giovenith turned to find Marcus and hear his brief command before he slipped out of view again. Jeep? Jeep! Checking to make sure the path to the library was lit and the flow there was steady, she sent a bird out to fetch Willow (whom she told to stay behind in 2D once the rumbling stopped) so that he could meet those she'd sent to the library in her stead, before hopping down from her step and searching out for Amanda.

Finding a single woman in a crowd of countless was no easy task. The panic and mayhem had ebbed somewhat upon her redirection toward the library, but it was still a mess. Squeezing about and crouching through the fleeing people, she finally managed to spot the magician's wife--out there on the battlefield, shooting away with the Dimitrov sisters. And she was to ask her for a car?!

Crouching down to her knees by the doorway, Giovenith pulled out some paper, folding it close to her mouth and whispering into it as she did so.

Zipping and flitting to avoid gunfire, a paper bird made it's way through the chaos to find it's way to Amanda's side, releasing a small, magical recording of Giovenith's voice: "Amanda, the team needs your jeep. People need to be picked up faster! Please, hurry and meet them at the garage."
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Swith Witherward
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Mon Sep 21, 2015 7:10 pm

A stately Cervitaur strode across the lobby, the soft taps of her four legs gently heralding her passing. She stopped beside the front desk cultist and appraised his uniform and he, in return, took in her warm brown skin and graceful deer's body. She carried an air about her, this no-nonsense creature straight out of a fairy tale, and the cultist's head cocked in curiosity.

"I am Ayla Mercer," her voice reminded him of distant thunder on the Savannah, or else the sound of milk chocolate, if it could sing. "I am the North Warnborough Mayor. Who is in charge here?"

The cultist wanted to say Demens, or perhaps Klaus, but the former was not to be disturbed and the latter had turned over the reigns for the time being. "We have a District Representative, madam. Itum. Septimus Itum. He's gone out to lend aid but he should return soon."

"I would speak with him, please," Ayla nimbly tucked a wayward curl into place under her turquoise wrap, then straightened one of the golden hoops adorning her ear lobe.

The villagers nearby grew silent. It was their mayor that had first rushed to the fields, white tail flashing in the silvery moonlight as she gave the alarm. She could have remained safe in her home. Ayla would never back down when her people were in danger. But this is why they elected her, and why they loved her.

"Yes, Madam," the cultist offered a polite nod. "Wait here, please."

He tugged his woolen jacket to neaten the wrinkles, then slipped through the people. He'd last seen the cyborg darting towards the front door.

The grass was obnoxiously high by time his jackboots touched the gravel outside the Building. He cast his gaze about, finally spotting Septimus not too far from him. "Itum! Hey! The Mayor wants a word!"
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Northwest Slobovia
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Anarchy

Postby Northwest Slobovia » Mon Sep 21, 2015 8:38 pm

The Lobby
Sandy had lost count of the number of frightened people he'd looked over in the past... how long had it been? His alarm hadn't gone off, so it hadn't yet been twenty minutes. It seemed longer, though: this guy, upstairs; this woman, a tiny sip of Ox Blood to prevent her lung from fully collapsing before she got into the clinic and had some curing spells laid on her; the child? Would never make it, regardless of his parents' pleas.

He'd become numb from repeating, "Hello, I'm Sandy. I can help you." and then having to send people upstairs or shake his head that he actually couldn't. His right arm was bloody up to the elbow from having to gently press tiny dabs of the Balm of Gilead against severed arteries deep inside people's legs and torsos. He was tiring, and his magic wasn't doing any better. He looked down at what was left of his alchemetical handiwork: a smidge of the Balm, and a sprinkle of Ox Blood, one in each hand. He looked over his shoulder, and found that the clinic was running out of bandages as well.

Impossibly-colored light flowed from the top of the vial of Ox Blood: something was drawing out its magic. As Sandy wearily followed the light up with his eyes. A few feet away from him, it was joined by an irridescent river, and the two of them flowed together into a into a tea pot. Classical Indian music filled his Hearing, nearly overwhelming him. Sandy needed nothing more to know that the hand holding the tea pot was a god's: he'd never before seen either Mastery or a Signature with his Sight; his Sight wasn't that good, and the casters he'd seen merely mortals. The god simply said, "I am Ogoti." Sandy gratefully accepted the pot of Ox Blood, emptying the last of his vial into it. The god departed with a wink, and Sandy noticed that the jar of Balm had overflowed into his other hand. He been too tired too notice what must have been a second colorful spout. Sandy put the tea pot down long enough to find a paper cup to scrape the Balm into. Now he had more than plenty. His spirit lightened.

A group of people carried in a woman lying on a blood-soaked litter. Sandy repeated his introduction automatically, asked his automatic question, and got the obvious answer: a Fiend had raked her back with its claws before somebody drove it away. Earlier, she'd have been bandaged and sent up. This time, however, he had her brought in to the clinic, gently rolled to one side, and held up so that he could press the Balm into the deep wounds on her back. This might not be a complete disaster after all.

Front yard

Amanda had been slowly driven back by the mass of Fiends, but she'd made them pay for every step she'd taken. She'd gotten into a rhymth of aiming, shooting, and reloading, and that had dulled her fear, but not ever extinguished it. There were too many of them, and while other people were joining the battle, they were slowly losing. They'd be lucky to hold the door at this rate. Somebody laid down a burst of automatic fire in front of her, mowing down a group of the Fiends. Amanda had a brief breather, and she lowered her arms to her sides; they were fatiguing. She pulled her phone from her pocket with her left hand; she'd get a longer break in a few minutes anyway, when the spells expired. While the heightened senses had made the Fiends more frightening, she'd been able to hear the slight changes in their paces that heralded leaps, and she'd plugged a few as soon as they'd left the ground.

Amanda was about to try to raise her gun again, but was startled by the grass around her suddenly shooting up. "What the hell?!" As the grass grew, Amanda lost sight of the Fiends, and she began to panic. She turned and ran a couple of steps before regaining some composure, then turned back around, stopped, and listened. She couldn't quite aim just by sound, but there were a lot of them, and they were blind too. She listened longer, slowly sweeping her gun back and forth; something snapped in the grass, and she fired. She was rewarded by a yelp; a hit, but not a fatal one. Time to get back inside. Maybe she could shoot from a balcony.

Amanda backed towards the door, firing intermittently at suspicious sounds. Something whizzed by from far overhead and crashed somewhere in the grass near her, landing with a sickening crunch. She glanced up to see another something sparkle in the moonlight as it shot down, and there was the sound of another solid hit. A spellcaster on the roof? She didn't have time to think about it, as a different spellcaster wanted her attention.

One of Giovenith's bird's flitted up to her, and she heard Giovenith's voice summon her to the garage. Definitely time to leave. Amanda stepped back, bumped into the Building's front wall, and edged her way into the front door. She allowed herself to be swept inside with the refugees.

Amanda holstered her gun, took a couple of deep breaths, and looked around for Giovenith. She was crouching so close, Amanda nearly missed her, but Amanda spotted her, and looked down with a weary smile. "Thanks for the message. I needed to come inside anyway; I'm getting tired."

Amanda waited to see if Giovenith had a reply, then pushed her way through the crowd to find Sandy. He was still at the clinic, shaking his head over a badly wounded man, so she gave him a little time to finish. "I need to take the jeep to rescue people outside. Got something for me to drink? Not coffee; I need something to steady my nerves. That was more than enough fighting for me. And I could use another round of spells."

Sandy gave her a one-armed hug, whispering comforting words to her. He then found her a paper cup, which he conjured full of fine wine. With a smile, Sandy handed her the cup and said, "You shouldn't drink and drive, but under the circumstances..." Amanda grinned back, sniffed the wine, and sipped it appreciatively, thanking Sandy. He started to recast the wolf spells on her.

Amanda didn't say anything for a couple of breaths, then something clicked. "We've got a spellcaster on the roof, firing down hunks of ice, or glass, or something like that. If you could find somebody to run messages, could you ask them if they could try to cast a wall or something, um, ten or twenty feet in front of the door? We're being pushed back, and some cover might help. Uh, we'll need to coordinate that with whoever's in charge outside, to make sure they're on the right side of the wall when it appears. I have to go, dear. Love you."

Amanda gave Sandy a tight hug; he was usually the one to go off and do derring do. Amanda jogged down to the garage, finishing her wine. Other vehicles were starting up, so she reloaded both of her clips, and started the jeep. Hopefully, somebody here was giving orders.
Last edited by Northwest Slobovia on Mon Sep 21, 2015 9:28 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Torsiedelle
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Mon Sep 21, 2015 8:58 pm

"Shit!"

Torii turned and ran back a few feet, getting low and keeping her rifle stuck outward, just in case the fiends rushed out; she'd be able to stab right at them with her bayonet. For the meantime, however, she continued to lay down fire. It was taking its tole on her shoulder, definitely, but it was preferable to not having one, should those beasts get through. Why did there have to be so many of the damned things?

Katya stayed behind her sister, having the semi-auto rifle. She continued to fire as well, going for headshots if she could. The rifle was heavy, and each shot kicked back harder than Torii's. She wondered how her sister could handle the thing. They had a bipod for it, but it hadn't been mounted yet, and there was no way she'd be getting on the floor, especially with a shorter skirt on.
Last edited by Torsiedelle on Mon Sep 21, 2015 9:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Mincaldenteans
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Ex-Nation

Postby Mincaldenteans » Mon Sep 21, 2015 9:21 pm

“One delusion, two delusions, three delusions, four… shatter!” Cherry murmured to herself as the timing was as precise as it could get given the chaos around them. Two fiends shrieked, stopping in their advance, gripping their heads from the psychic backlash that forced them to their knees (or whatever passed for knees with these creatures). She wasted no time and advanced quickly, summoning an illusionary haste enchantment to close in the distance between her and the enemy, leaving purple and magenta afterimages of her figure while she dashed into close range to finish the distracted two with her illusionary blade, ending it with quick slashes across their bodies.

The Mesmer took a deep breath, satisfied her attack was a success and pondered the next round of spells she could use; albeit as taxed as she was a little Inspiration Magic would do well right now, but none came to mind. She also had little time to gloat in her victory, or time to retreat back to the line, as something blunt hit the back of her head and sent her to ground, her illusionary constructed blade shattered, revealing her wand that dimmed in darkness. Cherry coughed, not from the surprise hit, but from the impact that drove her down upon her chest, forcing the air out of her. She shook her head slightly, pushing herself up with trembling hands only to feel an unnatural weight between her shoulders push her back down. A Kurzick obscenity escaped her lips while the roar of fiend deafened her remark. She heard her name, but it sounded distant, and perhaps too late.

So this is how it ends, with me face first in the dirt, Cherry thought darkly. The creature forced her to her back, slapping her sceptor away from her hand and clamped its claws around her neck, lifting her. She would have shrieked, but all she could do was kick her legs in futility. She thought of her patron goddess, looking up into the darkened skies and lost her focus. Time seemed to have slowed, and somewhere inside her, she had resigned to her fate: it was what she signed up for, she accepted the risk. Now to be among the many in Hall of Heroes. Another scream pierced her eardrums, the woman cringed, the creature’s grip loosened and dropped her to the ground. The mesmer coughed, looking up to find Tavana with her blades entrenched on both sides of the fiend’s torso.

“Get up!” Tavana commanded, ripping her blades free and quickly dispatching the creature. The Klingon woman wasted no more time wasting speech, pushing the creature aside and advanced a few steps toward the weakened Mesmer and pulled the woman to her feet. The Klingon took the sceptor, pushing it against the woman’s chest. “If you must die,” Tavana said tightly, “You will die on your feet, not under the bootheel on this p’taQ’pu. Do you understand?”

Cherry could only nod meekly, her head was still spinning while her equilibrium struggled to restore balance, but the Klingon was already dragging her back to the line, not bothering with the human’s plight. “Do not cross our sights. Stay behind the line. Regain your fortitude, the fight is yet over!”

The Mesmer could only do as she was told, sitting down with a hand against her head to clear the fuzziness and uncontrolled spinning. She felt a hand lay upon her free one on her lap and risked opening her eyes to see it was Traxt who gripped her.

He looked tired, pale and sported a sad, almost resigned, smile.

“That was too close,” he said softly, the cries of embattled residents filled the air as they held the line, “You should be more careful.”

“I had it on the ropes,” she said with a self deprecating smile. Traxt shook his head, wincing as he stood up, knuckles near white as he forced himself to his feet.

“You’re in no condition for another spell,” she frowned at him, looking up at his defiant face. The elementalist could only shrug.

“You’re right, I’m good for another two,” he said with a wider smile and hobbled toward the front, safe in his distance, but close enough for his spell range.

--//\\--


Mab delighted herself with the amount of violence wrought by her power alone. Many found the air so thick, it was suffocating, unable to take a breath. Others found themselves devoid of any air, likewise suffering a similar fate. Cold, unfathomable cold, frosted dozen more and shattered them into tiny pieces of crystals, unable to rid itself of Winter’s bitter chill. More fiends found themselves in darkness, disintegrated by touch, lost in the abyss while dark tendrils pierced the night, echoed by the howling of agony that played like a lullaby in Mab’s ears.

Such sweet, sweet violence. The rumbling in her stomach had subsided, sipping upon her engagement in battle like a sweet wine. It was far from sated and its core sought more like a blackhole, unable to be filled. The fae pressed on, but noticed the pattern of retreat, confirmed by barking orders from afar and the many residents taking a defensive approach. She would have frowned, perhaps even lashed out, in the face of such a tactic, but Mab reminded herself this fight wasn’t about the wanton slaughter. No, there was an actual objective, hardly germane to her own cause, and hardly a worthy reason why to assist, but she complied nonetheless, moving into a position that placed her into the thickest of fiends that were driven by some renewed frenzy for their prey.

Humming to a melody of Winter Old, Mab landed onto the ground in a wash of ice and darkness, the air became a solid form, trapping those in her radius, freezing the fiends with dark tendrils lashing out like whips, shattering the unfortunate frozen into a rain of crystals. Here, she would make her stand and Mab would delight herself into further conflict until the fiends grew weary.

The Queen could hope that wouldn’t be for awhile.

--//\\--


“By Melandru, begone you foul beasts!” Erick cursed, letting his scythe fall upon the closest fiend. He dug the blade in, wrenching free and whirled it around in time with Reyna who covered his exposed left. A swirl of dust formed around his feet and sprayed the air in a haze that blinded his enemies, the small enchantment an effective defense that blinded his foes temporarily.

The roar of the Klingon warrior only served to motivate the Dervish, pushing his body and mind further while whispering incantations of self protection to Melandru, granting enchantments that shredded with each swipe of the scythe or impact upon him but an attack. Reyna and Tavana were back to back at this point, no longer the Dervish’s combat partner as the robe holy warrior went into a frenzy of his own propelled by the blessings of the earth goddess. Instead, she found herself with the female Klingon while the two covered each other, dispatching one fiend to the next. Reyna wiped beads of sweat, barely seizing a moment to catch her breath before bringing her tired shield arm to defend herself.

Cherry shouted again from afar, “Fall back!”

The four warriors didn’t hesitate this time as Traxt unleashed another fire spell, his last words launching a phoenix that went from one target to another. It found its main target, exploding on contact and burning any fiend nearby. Cherry held the elementalist, her arm around his waist as he tried to shift his weight more onto the staff.

“He can’t keep this up,” Cherry said, almost a plea.

“Take him in, we will hold the line with the others.”

--//\\--


And this was the reason Dwayna’s wept. Too many injured, too many terrified, gripped with fear, torn from the safety of their homes, dislodged and made refugees. It was the reason she had tried many times to distance herself from the plight of others; to heal but not feel, to mend and not empathize. It was harder than most realized.

Alexia worked feverishly from one injured to the next; the others were doing the same while someone in charge delegated which injured went where. The monk wondered how long she could continue as her powers dimmed with every spell casted. Most battles were short, decisive; this was prolonged and it was beginning to show as self-doubt and fatigued affected her healing prayers.

A gentle hand pressed her shoulder and immediately Alexia felt a rush of energy. Her fingers tingled with power and the runes lined within her outfit almost buzzed with renewed vigor. Alexia looked up to see a dark complected man with comforting eyes as he bowed his head in greeting.

"I am Ogoti," he said, before moving on to the other healers.

“Thank you,” she said out loud before setting her focus back upon the injured.

“Alexia! Alexia!” Cherry cried out, tearing the monk’s focus as she saw the hobbling elementalist with Cherry supporting him.

She could not offer any comfort immediately, quickly tending to the immediate wounded first and then moving to Traxt. He looked pale, injured even, as he winced when she moved the long jacket he wore to cover up a deep gash.

“How long have you been out there?” Alexia asked but didn’t wait for his reply, her hands gripping his face as she checked his eyes, “Your eyes are dilated. You’ve casted too many spells too quickly. You’re at the point of complete exhaustion. Did you use any of the glyphs?”

Traxt shook his head, “There was no time.”

She shook her head, “You’ll need rest… but first, a more pressing issue…” The monk trailed off as she started to take his jacket off with Cherry helping. The monk laid a hand upon his wound.

“This is going to be unpleasant,” she warned and whispered a prayer to Balthazar, the patron god of protection spells to mend wounds or mitigate damage. The guild leader chastised herself for being in here when she should have been out there, with her guildmates.

A few moments passed, “This will have to do for now, move him to the dining room, Anais can treat him. Cherry, you have to come back, we’ll need you out there now with one less person to defend the refugees.”

The mesmer nodded, taking Traxt’s staff while the man hooked his arm around her shoulder and got up to his feet. Anais looked at the two of them, a sinking feeling gripped her, but she ignored it rather than succumb to even more self-doubt. She nodded, gesturing with her chin, “Go.”
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The BranRiech
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Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Mon Sep 21, 2015 9:29 pm

Air support?

They must have been crazy, what did they need air support for?

Bran was making himself quite busy as it was, firing off a quick burst of rifle-fire towards the fiends, taking down a few more than he'd bargained for thanks to the relatively horrid-accuracy of the Branriechian ADK-45. It was the gun he was given after basic-training, considering he wasn't a frontline soldier back in the day, they only had the locally-produced rifles to give to non-combat personnel. It was rugged and never broke down, but left much to be desired in the form of accuracy.

Bran loved the thing.

He looked back for a split-second to see Septimus calling out for him, pleading him to get his chopper in the air.

"Fuck . . . Uh, yeah!" He called back, patting Rylli on the shoulder, as she stood a few feet from him, spraying a torrent of bullets at another horde of the fiends. They dropped quickly, and the lack of Bran's fire didn't seem to matter much considering the fiends were basically useless at ranged-combat.

"Give me a bit, I need to get it ready!" Bran streaked through the lobby, slinging the rifle back over his shoulder as he disappeared up the stairs.

--

"Get her ready! You guys use the damn place as a clubhouse, now time to pay up!"

Bran neared the hanger moments later, running towards the structure that had been a part of the roof for who knows how long. Inside of course, sat an aging Ka-65 Twinblade Attack Helicopter. It had been Bran's ever since he'd had it shipped over from home all those years ago. It had seen good times, and most definitely some rather bad times, taking damage a little more than once. Bran looked towards the Lads that had been sent up to the roof.

"Come on, guys!" He shouted, beckoning to them. "Get those rocket-pods strapped on, quickly, will you!?" Bran's voice rasped, tired from all the yelling and screaming over the sounds of battle. "That's all I need from you then, get to work!"

--

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

Only several minutes after Septimus' call for support, the wheels of the old helicopter left the ground for the first time in a while, no doubt thanks to the quick-wits of the Lads that had assisted the mechanic at getting the infernal machine airborne again. The hull twitched ever-so-slightly, winds and breeze rocking against the sturdy airframe.

Bristling with weapons, the Twinblade was a fearsome opponent on the modern battlefield to say the least. When pitted against a horde of small, vicious animals, there was no competing. Anyone fighting in the fields directly outside the building were the first to see it as it soared over, a massive roundel painted over the bottom.

"I-I'm up." Bran spoke over the radio, cackling with that distinct sound that nothing else could ever reproduce outside of a Soviet-made radio. "Opening fire."

Plumes of smoke appeared nearly instantly, arcing out of the small pods on the wings. The rockets were older, but flew relatively straight, impacting a rather large gathering of fiends, perhaps feeding on some poor soul who didn't make it. Bran couldn't tell before, and certainly wasn't able to tell after, when all that was left was a red-ish mist, and a number of pockmarked craters.

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Swith Witherward
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Mon Sep 21, 2015 10:20 pm

It took a few minutes for Malice to properly remedy the radio situation on her end. The equipment, installed half a century ago, had been vital to operations at the time but remained largely unused. Scel frequently complained that it gave her indigestion. Yet neither exo or her pilot would readily yank out anything that might have a later purpose.

She scanned the channels periodically in the hope of picking up communication from vehicles on the ground or perhaps the helicoptor. It came as no surprise when Bran's voice crackled through the system, leaping from sound to data in order to be internalized by Malice. Her thoughts would follow the process reversed, broadcasting into Bran's headset.

"Branriechian craft, this is NST 3v1 requesting fire support four klicks east of Building location."

GPS was useless here, of course, as there weren't (to Scel's knowledge) any satellites to support it. The mechanic-turned-pilot would need to fly by his senses. She conveyed quick thoughts to Buttons and the exo's weapon pivoted to point upwards and she released a plasma ball.

"Mark flare. That is NLA," she advised as the ball expanded outward, bathing the ground below it in peculiar blue light.

The glow also allowed Bran a brief glimpse of the entire battlefield. Malice's massive body was surrounded by Fiends. Not more than a kilometer from her, between her and the Building itself, stood NLA on a gravel road. A cluster of weary humans had gathered around her. Between them and the Building sat the rest of the hoard. The road leading to the Building had vanished under the thickness of their bodies, although they had thinned out the closer the path came to reaching the property.

"Vehicles will move to intercept NLA's group to transport survivors. Clear all obstacles between them."
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Why is everyone a social justice warrior?
Why didn't any of you choose a different class,
like social justice mage or social justice thief?
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Fvaarniimar
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Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Mon Sep 21, 2015 10:29 pm

Kwa'a's right arm felt heavy.  One more round of bashing with the pan - to buy time to switch it.  Lucky hit.  One was knocked out.  Slinging was easier with her right arm anyway.  Fast switch - barely done in time. Needletooth - scored a rat's belly.  A twig... Where were all these twigs coming from?...hit her in the face as a rat stepped on a tree in a small copse.  She started moving towards the edge, panting.  It might provide a bit of cover so she could catch her breath.  Meanwhile.  In.  Out.  Re (whack)peat -

"Hey!  Hey!  You!  Over there!!" Bash kick (not in the mouth) sling grab running low on anmo another hit with the pan eight more teeth.  The shouter came into view.  Male.  Short.  Overalls.  A snout came close to the tree he stood at the base of.  A large wrench, held by a muscular arm - it backed off.  A tree trunk, snapped - she clambered over, muscles protesting - a flash of white in the tree.  Another of the things approached, trying to step on the tree from the back.  In moments it was clutching its paw, whimpering.  "Why you -"

- And then she was close enough to see the white thing clearly.  A robe - on a small child. All sorts of crazy ideas ran through her head then.  But those teeth would slice right through a plaited bridle, and she lacked the tools to make something stronger...her powers weren't going to help...

She had been trying to get to Ocho and the huge creature and try to help... after that display?  She had been able to tell they wouldn't need it.  Still... she was making progress, making things less dangerous - it had been a purposereasonto keep fighting - now I have a different task...the others are busy and elsewhere... (strange, how she'd slipped so easily into relying on the Residents.)

A rat reared up.  Could it reach the kid?  She didn't want to find out.  Load needletooth.  Sling... Oh.  She had had one in already.  One had pierced the eye, another had ironically hit a tooth.

"Aaaugh!"  It retreated. More twigs - the man dodged sluggishly.  For some reason the movement had irritated the scratches on her arm.  Not to mention the strained muscles...  She hoped Rmwtyliin was using the clove oil.  If not, not good - she needed it here.  Bites got infected.  Saliva.

She noticed two things as she continued: one, the tree was tilted slightly. "One plowed into it." Two -was that grass? But it was shooting up so fast - she realized what that meant. Powers. And in that direction -

That solved the problem of relocating the Building. Now for the rest -

"Get child down. I'll protect. You're tired. Me tired." It was thousands of foot-lengths...feet...away. If they waited they would lack the energy. A plane flew out, at an angle of perhaps a sixth of a circle from their path; streaks against the sky fired from the same angle.

"We need run can while..." No, that grammar was off.

"Run...while...we...can."
---

Nick touched a cheek, a foot, a wrist, stepped on the chest of someone who looked okay expecting it to rise and fall.  It didn't.  Dead?  A paw touched skin.  There was something that felt like a live person.  (The nerves were still working - a little.)  Not for long, then...Aren't people like that usually possible to revive?  The actual healers were busy.  He checked a wrist - no pulse.  The hand held a syringe.  Something niggled at his brain.  There was something really, really important.  He felt like brushing it aside.  It's not like it'll bring him back to - THAT'S IT!

Administer it if they stop breathing. It's called ReAnima. Reanimation...


No time to be squeamish.  He touched the wrist, had the fingers turn the syringe and clench, nudged the arm over the belly and sat on it.  His weight pushed the syringe in - and suddenly the man was sitting up, gasping, coughing blood, spilling the cat.

"What happened?"

"A talking cat? Whatever you people're givin me for th'pain is making me loopy..."

He fell asleep. Nick checked: he felt normal. No pain, once he'd sat long enough to know that. Inside he was dancing. BUT it wasn't okay for this healthy guy to take up space - he focused.

<Hey! You! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP.> It even felt urgent. <I'm sorry. NOW. NOW!>

...So the man thought he was dreaming. And had woken up into another dream. NO. The man's mouth opened. Then his cheeks twitched. Then his tongue stuck out. Then his eyes opened. Then his head bobbed -

Nick relaxed as the man screamed. "YOU! DAMN CAT!"

"Listen. I'm not a damn cat. I'm a cat - my name is Nick. I would have let you sleep. You see this room. Many people, wounded - you're fine."

"They said I looked alright earlier. 'Just a bit of shock...' Told me to lie down, inject that guy if he stopped breathing... soon I could...my stomach hurt so bad...I couldn't breathe...everything went black...I suppose you think it was a dream?" He sounded quite bitter.

"No. You were dead. The injection you were told to give him? You got it. You ARE okay now. You are not in pain. Um..."somewhere to sleep...the stairs... He sat on the thigh and provided directions, recommending that the man go up at least two flights of stairs prior to napping. With an exhausted apology exchanged, both headed off.
Come to the light side.  We have teamwork, waffles, popcorn, grape juice, and way too much ramen.
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Tiltjuice
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Founded: Jan 20, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Tiltjuice » Mon Sep 21, 2015 10:30 pm

Chrys wavered. The Building's alerts pinpricked her beside the perturbation in her head, something that penetrated much deeper than mere dizziness and ringing. All of it roiled through and past her, overwhelming her Time-given senses in torrent after torrent. The slight woman sobbed slightly as the sign of the limitless above her lover's head disappeared in a blinding flash - and her eyes blackened in response, something entirely without precedent. Driven to her knees by the onslaught, only centuries of training had allowed her to shake her spatha out of its sheath. The tip of the broad, flat blade dug a divot into the floor of Hans' apartment. Klaus' announcement of the Building's dimensional shift passed outside her ken, but very few things passed outside the experience of a society as ancient as her own, and she slowly eliminated all but the final truth as she rose to her feet and caught sight of her eyes in the nearest reflective surface.

The fouled sclerae surrounding the dilated snow white irises cast the Conservator's beauty into a ghoulish madness. Behind the macabre face, a suddenly implacable mind parsed the warning delivered by PA system. Nothing filtered in save the first six words, and her exit carried a smoothness that did pride to the fighter she was and justice to the soldier she was not. Whether Hans followed or not she did not know, could not mind. Each barefoot step down the three flights was perfectly measured. The last footfall came with a clink of Conservator armor, and now any who noticed could be pardoned their alarm at the 'Drone' that had appeared in their midst.

But they, too, would be wrong; and as before, Chrys pushed out against the doors and stepped out into the twilight dim, heedless. Of them, of illusion far in front, of machine far overhead. A group of the creatures had circled around through the front, she saw. The doors fell closed again behind her, and so she marched into hell with her glowing blade, orange against the midnight blue. A neat circle of fifteen trapped her.

None survived the first minute, from the first who had charged directly at her to the last who had done its best to crush her with the bodies of its fellows.

The smell of charred flesh hung heavy in the air as Chrys stood facing the Building, spatha at the low guard, still unbowed and still fresh. The beat of her heart's drum carried through evenly, far from the ferocity that was her birthright and the heavy strikes from her past.

All else awaited her in silence.
Last edited by Tiltjuice on Tue Sep 22, 2015 1:40 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Giovenith
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Posts: 19629
Founded: Feb 08, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Mon Sep 21, 2015 10:46 pm

Giving Amanda a quick smile and salute, Giovenith made her way away from the doors and headed as fast she could back to the library, where further challenges were waiting for her. It was one thing to get all these people into the library, which she seemed to have succeeded in doing, but it was another to manage them. Though she got a grey flash of her pony companion flying overhead inspecting others once she entered the room, the sheer magnitude of the job was still something to behold. Many of these people were scared, or injured, and it was her job to find a way to lull them all into a semblance of security.

"Willow!" she called out over the chatter of the crowd, summoning the pegasus-pony immediately to land beside her. "Do you think you could lift me up above these people?" He gave her an expected, skeptical look. "It's not about riding on your back, I promise, I just want everyone to be able to see me."

Rolling his eyes but nodding, Willow allowed the godling to very carefully climb on top of him, trying hard to avoid his wings, and dig around for her megaphone once again. Once she gave the signal he carried her up above the heads of the refugees which, while not easy, wasn't too difficult considering Giovenith's rather minute size and weight.

"Hello again, everyone!" Giovenith called through the megaphone at the crowd, being careful to point it away from Willow's ears while remaining balanced. "I'm so glad you're all here! My name is Giovenith, and as we speak, some of the most top-notch forces this universe has to offer are outside and fighting off the oncoming monsters." Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but the Residents were far from inept. "They are doing everything within their power to rescue your loved ones and secure the safety of the area. Till then, you will all be safe and comfortable here in our Building. If you are in anyway injured or need medical attention, or are tending to someone who does, please carefully maneuver yourself as organized as possible to the far left of the room..." She pointed to the direction she desired. "... and we will get to you as soon as possible. If you are not, please crowd in a careful fashion to the opposite far right so that we can more easily tend to the needy, and we will get back to you as soon as possible."

Waiting for the crowd to follow directions, Giovenith gave the signal for Willow to let them down, which he did, settling them both on one of the library tables.

"How are we going to manage all of this?" Willow asked, sweeping a foreleg out to gesture to parting waves of the crowd.

"As best we can," Giovenith answered, crossing her arms with a determined look on her face. "If I know the people here, they should be through with those creatures in no time, and we'll have more hands to help, if there aren't some on the way already. Till then, you and I will hold down the fort."

"But how?"

"You'll have to take the right side and try to work with the people," she explained, turning to look at him. "I know you're not a huge people person, but I'm the only one between us that has medical training. I'll try to use some of my magic to heal the most serious, but it will take a while. You should try to speak to whoever seems like a leader-type among the crowd, answer what questions they have as best you can and reassure them that we've got everything under control. You're well aware of what our neighbors are capable of, so you shouldn't have too much difficulty with filling in the blanks."

"Sounds like a plan," Willow broke gaze to scan the crowd. "Okay, I'll try and work what I can, and I'll get back to you if I have anything important in about thirty minutes or less. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. Let's go."

They then hopped off the table and swapped directions, running off to their respective sides of the crowd.

Giovenith thought about fashioning a few crude paper dolls for extra hands (as she had done in previous invasions) as she walked by the left crowd and try to analyze the overall damage, but weighed that with the possibility that some people might find a bunch of walking, faceless, white, flat humanoid shapes disturbing. Still, better to be scared than bleeding, so doing her best to make reassuring eye contact with as much people as possible, she pulled out a few pieces and made them grow to the necessary height, continuing to reassure anyone listening that it was normal and helpful. Willow, meanwhile, tried to read his own side of the crowd, guessing who might be a good person to stop and exchange with--obviously he could never manage to talk with everypony, but if he talked with just the right people, those people might do their own part in conveying the message to the rest of their respective "cliques" in the larger crowd, thus spreading the message faster.
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Highfort
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Founded: May 11, 2014
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Highfort » Tue Sep 22, 2015 1:47 am

Septimus let out a grunt of displeasure as he felt a warm liquid spraying on his boots - luckily avoiding his pant legs - before watching the enlarged waterbear that was Turtleboss get safely placed upon the armor of the intimidating Noise Marine. The representative offered a quiet thanks as Deuce helped him up before the armored man stormed off to kill more Fiends with a smile.

Turning back to the entrance, Septimus stumbled forward - dodging refugees and vicious Fiends alike - into the thick patch of grass so inconveniently conjured by Kale. Forcing his way through the growth - which, to its credit, did slow down the beasts as well as the survivors and the Residents - he was interrupted in his trek by a voice calling his name. He quickly found the matching body, jackboots and all.

"Itum! Hey! The Mayor wants a word!"

"Mayor?" he was struck dumb for a moment and merely gazed at the man curiously as he made his way through the underbrush and back through the safety of the door, following the cultist in, "Of the refugees, you me-"

The cyborg's question was cut off as the wind was knocked out of him by a Minotaur, the smell of Fiend saliva on his ripped belt nearly driving the impromptu door guard into a frenzy before one of the others could restrain him.

"No! He is not the enemy!" the powerful muscles of a cyclops pulled back the bull man before he had the opportunity to charge and gore Septimus on his horns, "Think! He stands and does not bite!"

"He reeks of them! They all do!" the horned man would not be dissuaded, but before he could cause further damage the one-eyed giant sent several heavy punches his way and the Minotaur collapsed before being dragged away by medical staff.

"Sorry, he smells them everywhere," the cyclops helped Septimus to his feet before returning to man the door, "How does it look outside?"

"Can't tell, too much chaos," Septimus replied, patting the cyclops on the back - though he was much shorter than the giant and thus his pats fell upon the one-eyed man's midsection rather than his shoulders, "We're deploying a rescue team, though - vehicles with an air escort."

"Pegasi?" the cyclops cocked his head curiously, "How will they help us?"

As if to answer the question and spare Septimus the breath, a rocket came careening out of the sky and detonated upon one of the groups of Fiends in the meadow, sending splashes of red flying through the air as the chopper came into view from within the lobby's wide windows. Septimus managed a chuckle despite sucking in a quick intake of breathe to steady himself; Branreichian air support was something to behold, even if it wasn't quite as advanced as Confederation tech.

"Fire-breathers," the cyclops gazed upward in wonder before a yell from his fellow guards alerted him to a Fiend at the door, quickly dispatched with a punch to the face before it could do any serious damage to the incoming refugees, "Truly, we are blessed. The gods favor us today."

"Itum!" the cultist interrupted with an insistent tone, gesturing at the breathtaking Cervitaur still occupying the lobby with quiet, respectful citizens surrounding her, "This is Mayor Ayla Mercer, of North Warnborough. Hers was the town that was hit by the attack, these refugees are her people."

"Mayor Mercer," Septimus turned away from the door guards to address the new arrival with a firm handshake and a cordial, if grim, smile, "Representative Septimus Itum; I don't normally head the Building but the usual staff are otherwise indisposed. I'll be your contact for now. What do you have at your disposal? We need more medical supplies for the wounded and if you can spare any fighting men and women, they'd make good escorts for those approaching the front doors."
Last edited by Highfort on Tue Sep 22, 2015 11:59 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Fvaarniimar
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Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Tue Sep 22, 2015 8:55 am

"We stopped bec -" the wrench hit a fiend hit in the eye "- ause she couldn't run anymore!"  He eyed her incredulously.

She hadn't intended for the girl to spend any time running at all. Strip branch of twigs. Children could run.  Her multitude of adopted siblings had certainly taught her that.  But - even between the adults - she would be an easy target, and children had a tendency to startle and run when scared... (Adults, too, but in rather more controlled fashion.)

"We...hold.  You."  She took two steps, slinging two teeth into an approaching clump; two drew back, the rest hesitated.  "I."  Two steps more.  "You...again, me.  There until."  They're surging forward again -

Still he hesitated.  "GO!  Little time!"
...Apparently he was an orchard-grower or similar.  (Electrician, actually.)  Taking both hands tolift thispan, really bad...
She fended them off, panting -
If  her   carrier...needs pan... Way too close... - assaulting the mouths - losing a few teeth to convince them to shut.  Gaining over fifty.  Within some moments he had reached his daughter.  Good!  Panting.  Focus. Breathe.  Out.  Load.  In.  Out.   The area stank of fiend breath, two stepped forward from opposite directions, quite near simultaneously.  Sling.  Load.  Sling.  Zeeb and a ppai'ow'ow, hurts.   Needed to rest the arm.  Needed both hands for pan - any fabric?  Pocketed denim.  Bundled the teeth as they pulled back squealing.  A moment more and the pair were half-scrambling half sliding down.  Switching the sling back to her left hand, Kwa'a grabbed the girl as her father hit the ground, expertly positioning her in a piggyback.  Short robe pants yellow sash flimsy material (thin cotton?)  It had already ripped in several places.  Pajamas although (pull knees forward) miraculously the shoes were decent for running.  Hers really weren't (her feet protested, she thought of switching shoes... But if both collapsed (and that was a risk) the child would need every advantage.  Fresh muscles.  The wrench, pan if she could lift, whatever teeth remained.  The twigs she'd pulled.  Knowing how to use them.)

There was little time.  Could hinder speed - will protect her - worth it. She pushed him behind her, handing over the heavy pan with a relieved sigh.

Rat stood on rat, higher rat launching itself into the tree. This time they didn't take a stand to defend it, but in silent agreement sprinted as far as they could while the creatures were distracted  - about a hundred feet, nearly straight.
Towards the end of that stretch teeth severed half her skirt.  The skillet caught the snout and its wielder increased his pace to catch up.

---

Nick had intended to think it, but enough of him really wanted to say hi to Giovenith to activate the collar. 

"Giovenith!  Hi!  Thanks! That helps."  Unless close she likely wouldn't hear over the general din.  A brown streak as he moved left.  Those of his former patients whose pain was still blocked winced as they stood, nerve endings starting to reactivate.
(Meanwhile a different former patient - relieved that he would not need to move half as far as he'd been instructed - ran right, slumping against the wall and falling asleep.)

---

Most of Rmwtyliin's eleven patients were mobile enough to reach the wall.  A few weren't.  She was fairly slight.  Two people were walking right - a couple perhaps, muscular.

"I need help!"  They didn't hear; she walked over, pointing.  "Some of them cannot get to the left side - too injured.  We need to carry them."  Although they at first shook their heads at the girl's gibberish and then gaped as it was translated, once the two understood they were more than willing to help. 

Promptly they organized, counted. Six reasonably able-bodied (two who could walk, or in a fairy's case fly, but not carry.  Four who could carry others.)  Five in bad shape, or asleep and weak enough to avoid disturbing while stable.  One of these (female, with rather odd skin) close enough to death that at home Rmwtyliin would not have tended to her; her guts had been spilling out.

Seven who could carry five.  They would need ten - no, nine.  The woman (midsize, golden-orange hair catching the light) had picked up another woman - old, likely rather striking without so much...red... on her face - and was cradling her as though it required little effort.  At this point she was not even surprised.  The pair started waving frantically.  "Avitus!  Blijana! Joe!"

"Morwen!  Adisa!" Three persons rushed over: a brunet who looked ordinary save for his eight arms, a blonde woman with a crew cut, and a greying satyr. In short order the convoy had arranged: one of the five carried by two of the four, two of the five carried between four of Joe's arms and the other two of the four, Morwen carrying the elderly woman still, and the one whose guts were exposed being lifted very gently and carried between a tall, dark-skinned man who turned out to be Adisa, the shorter blonde Blijana, and Rmwtyliin herself, supporting the belly so as to not further stress the wound.

Avitus, the satyr, supported the two wounded who were walking, letting the fairy nestle into his hair.
Come to the light side.  We have teamwork, waffles, popcorn, grape juice, and way too much ramen.
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1.I'm a cis female.
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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Primordial Luxa
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Posts: 12092
Founded: Oct 30, 2012
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Primordial Luxa » Tue Sep 22, 2015 12:34 pm

Aegis ran out of bullets just as the horde of fiends surged voraciously forward propelled by their unwholesomely fearsome prowess. A wave of mortal despair washed over his body and mind at the same time that the sea of black squamous rugose bodies descended onto his startled form. Their filthy forms were repulsive to touch without his protective cloak which had been torn apart long ago by their masses of sickly yellow claws and now he only had his think body suit to guard against their snaggleteeth.

The stench of the creatures was almost more than Aegis could bear and if he hadn’t removed his digestive system with the rites of Ka he knew he would be struggling to hold its contents down. They reeked of animal waste, emotional terror perspiration and the filthy mud of some uncleaned swamp, he feared that whatever malignant illnesses these creatures carried would be just as ravenous and deadly as the beasts they rode upon and so he had no interest of even suffering a single scratch. For while he lacked many of the organs which could be injured by their claws he feared a blood or skin illness might slow his progress.

Because of this terrible fear Aegis was quickly dragged under the mass of bodies by a sudden attack, and even as he fell he crushed several over their numbers beneath his weight which had been unlucky enough to be cluster behind him or stupid enough to grab onto his back. As soon as he hit the ground they immediately began to pile onto of him swarming across his body with rending limbs and gnashing fangs. He responded by lashing out widely grabbing and breaking as many of them as he could in his hands all they while trying to rise from the almost liquid mass of attacking rodent-like creatures.


Far off Primordial was trying to deal with the increasing heat which was radiating from his body due to the cost of defending the lobby door and the various other front windows. He had put up a semipermeable barrier of alternating strong and weak gravitational forces around the front entrance in order to allow him to rapidly allow people in and keep fiends out. The effect was only partially visible as a heat mirage surrounding the portal and wafting about Primordial himself, the effect was a parallel to how the sorcerer was currently feeling as he had chosen to put the cost of his magic on his body rather than his soul or his mind.

His cane was nearly filled the psychic spiritual residue that had seeped out of him over the last week which mean that if he wanted to he could draw his power from their and avoid any seriously damaging sorcerous payments. However he feared that soon something much stronger or more dangerous than these weak fiends would appear and he would then need to commit to a feat of horrifically awesome proportions, thus he wanted to save his excess reserves for that moment.

So the penalty for this current spell was heat instead of religious excrement, each second that went by his body was growing hotter as energy was both syphoned and spread throughout his body through a serious of Arcanotech words and thoughts in order to rewrite gravity and physical forces. He had already unbuttoned his shirt and removed his coat to prevent from roasting alive but it was not doing enough and he knew that soon his cells would begin to boil and rupture from the pressure.


Insidious moaned in desperation and pain as she tried desperately to keep the woman in front of her alive. She had a hole in her stomach large enough to stick as globe into and it was becoming harder and harder for the either of the woman to hold onto their strength and stamina. Insidious had been working almost non-stop since the villagers had gotten here and it was showing in her medical abilities. She was barely able to raise her arms from the exertion of having to having to sew nearly a hundred limbs back onto people and close up massive wounds like this one.

It was because of this strenuously exhausting labor that the woman in front of her died, one of the few who were simply beyond the abilities of her natural science and weak magical abilities to fix. She railed against it with a quite shriek horrified by her own physical weakness and inability to work under such strenuous conditions. She cursed the frail mortal form which she called her body and resorted to using up more of the precious ReAnima in order to bring the woman back to life with necrotic tissue giving way to semi-sentient stem cells.

Insidious slumped back against one of the walls her body feeling like it was on fire and she looked down at her shaking hands which were covered in blood and cold sweat. On one finger she saw her ring which was filled with precious narcotics and she hesitantly opened it to take something that would relaxed her torn apart nerves and fill her with mania fueled strength.
Swith Witherward wrote:But I trust the people here. Well, except Prim. He has shifty eyes but his cute smile make up for it.

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

Postby TotallyNotEvilLand » Tue Sep 22, 2015 3:12 pm

Adri's robe had started to come unfurled from the constant scratches and bites. While none of it had touched her fur or skin, it was starting to get rather difficult to move when her clothes were falling apart. The grass grew massively and blocked her sight, but through hearing the sounds of chatter and gunfire, she figured out where she was going, hacking through the thick brush with her favored machete. Eventually she made it back to the doors, the lower half of her robe nearly falling off.

The girl was exhausted, to say the least. Her arms were limp from hacking at the brush and the occasional rat. Her breath was ragged and heavy, and she slowly pushed through, leaning against a wall and slowly sliding to the floor.




The tall grass made Crysal's life a little difficult. It was a pain in the ass to aim her pistol through it and even harder to swing her poleaxe. She was stuck awkwardly stabbing at the approaching fiends with the short spike on the end of it as she side-stepped to the door and inside. She spotted her younger sister sitting on the ground, catching her breath. Her robe was heavily damaged and there were a few claw marks on her legs, but she'd be able to drag herself upstairs soon enough. Crysal surveyed the lobby, her commanding instincts hard at work.

The most ideal solution would be a shield wall. A line of riot shields in front of the door to block the rodents from entering and people with firearms or longer weapons stabbing the rodents as they came, but she doubted there were enough riot shields to go around. Next best thing would be essentially the same, but replacing the row of shields with spears. Sadly, she wasn't too familiar with the building as of yet.

"Where's the armory?" She yelled out, hoping to get an answer in a timely manner. "I've got an idea."
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Monfrox
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Founded: Mar 25, 2011
Father Knows Best State

Postby Monfrox » Tue Sep 22, 2015 4:59 pm

Brit put the last man she was carrying down on one of the hospital beds before taking a step back and sighing.

"Phew. Nice work with the door, man." She said to Sandy. "I'm gonna go see who all needs more help. Take over til I get back for me."

With that, she darted out again. Take over. Right. Take over what? She wasn't a surgeon, so she really could only give the basics out to those in need. They needed the others. Where the hell were they, anyway? There wasn't any time to waste looking for the others, though. She just had to trust that they were helping. She walked along the way of the refugees and saw Insidious and Gretta moving as well. Well, one was moving.

"Ah, Christ!" Brit cursed as she quickly doubled back to the kitchen and looked in the fridge.

Redbull or Gatorade. She snatched the energy drink for now, as it would get the quickest results. With haste, she made her way back over to Insidious. As though the fact that she was a Luxan didn't matter to her; Brit knelt down and handed the can over to her while putting her other hand around the back of her neck. Jesus, she was cold.

"Hey, look at me. Take it easy, drink some of this, and relax for a little. Go head over and grab a Gatorade out of the fridge when you're done with this and then I want you to go grab the stretcher from the clinic's locker for me. Can you do that?" She asked her before looking at Gretta and waving at her.



Kelly was more than a bit taken aback by the colorful cast running around, but her veterancy as a soldier of war had prepared her mind for situations like this. To her, this was wartime, and there was no time for questions in war. With her two pistols, she blasted any fiend she could see that got too close to the lobby until she had to reload her revolvers. Times like this made her glad she carried the M1911A1 as well in the event that she had her reload interrupted. For now, she worked with the others to protect the Building and the refugees.

The others were already on top of things outside though. Well, literally as soon as the grass sprouted. Both a blessing, and a curse. Now anyone could get the drop on anyone else, which heightened the chances of friendly fire. Still, they would continue to do the best they could, as it was what was asked of them.
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The BranRiech
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Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Tue Sep 22, 2015 5:55 pm

"Yeah, yeah . . ." Bran muttered.

He looked down at the map, seeing nothing but static occupying the screen that would normally be connected to a vast array of date available to find location and coordinates. There was nothing of the sort available for him, and a swift smack across the screen did nothing to fix the malfunction. "Fucking thing." He muttered, looking out back over his shoulder, spotting the apartment building, and the battle still raging down on the ground. He still had nearly a full load of ammunition, and plenty of places to spend it.

"4-clicks? G-got it." He spoke back into the radio, not even knowing who was contacting him. He'd never heard the voice before, but was certainly inclined to believe it. The fiends probably didn't even have a radio anyways, or the voice in which to call fake-air-support from.

The helicopter banked hard to the left, turning directly back around. He used the apartment-building as directions, basing his NSEW directions on where they were when the building was actually in Bielefeld. Gently easing the stick down, the chopper's nose pointed towards the ground, propelling the craft off in the direction of the requested support. "Launching rockets, everyone get heads down!" He shouted, squeezing the small trigger.

A flurry of rockets hailed from the 4 pods under the wing-pylons, streaking downrange. The Soviet rockets' standard range hovered right around 4-kilometers, meaning Bran was basically able to hover above the apartment, launching the rockets far-out to the target. "Barrage over, what did I hit?" He crackled over the radio once more, relaxing somewhat as the lumbering chopper came to a stop, station-keeping.

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Swith Witherward
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Posts: 30306
Founded: Feb 11, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Tue Sep 22, 2015 6:14 pm

"Easy there," Ogoti gently laid his hand on Brit's shoulder. "I have her. She's barely able to function. No energy drink made by mankind can assist a depleted healer such as Insidious."

He draped the Luxan's arm across his shoulder and then plucked her legs from the ground, cradling her as tenderly as a bride as he carried her out of the traffic pattern. Luxan physiology was atypical, and the avatar wasn't personally on speaking terms with the woman's pantheon. But Ogoti was Ogoti, and he'd address any wrath surrounding his healing administrations later. He hummed as they moved, the song nothing but a soothing lullaby to those who heard it, but within it was woven the restorative magic necessary to replenish both her resolve and resources.

"You've done well, Miss Insidious," he gently assured her as they passed by some of those she had tended to earlier. One of the lobby's comfortable chairs remained unoccupied and he sought it out and gently set her in it.

Ogoti tugged at the fabric at his knees as he squatted, then took both her hands in his. "Noble Daughter of Chaos, rest here a short while. It will take a little time for you to regain yourself, and I fear I'm unable to bring you back to the state you were in before all this started. Not without your gods' blessings. But rest, nonetheless, and return to us when you're ready."

His hand caressed her cheek, and he allowed himself a brief moment in which to admire the ingenious patterning of her skin, and then he was gone. His own matrix had begun to feel the strain, but the healers were in need of him. He had only himself to offer.
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Torsiedelle
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Tue Sep 22, 2015 6:20 pm

Torii loosened up on the trigger after a bit, and took the time to reload and watch Bran let loose with rockets. "It's like Afghanistan.", She chuckled, looking out at the scenery. "And those dumb animals are the Mujahideen."

She stepped just outside the door again, just to make sure that the women who were still out on the patio were safe. "Need help?", She asked the Froxian group. She built up some more courage and jogged a few feet over to them. "I'm just conserving ammo right now, waiting for another big wave.", She nodded. "My bayonet is dirty, too."

Inside, Katya sighed and checked her ammo. She was still good, nothing to worry about, although the rifle was beginning to feel heavy. She glanced at Rylli, and then at a few of the other residents. The had everything under control, but still, how long would they have to keep shooting at animals?
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The Carlisle
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Posts: 10024
Founded: Aug 25, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby The Carlisle » Tue Sep 22, 2015 6:47 pm

The grassy mass continued to entangle fiends from all sides with reaching blades, grabbing and dragging them into the main body. The mass was riddled with fiends, on the surface and inside, all struggling to escape. Kale grew more weary and wear with each one added, as more of her strength was being dedicated to maintaining the entrapment of the vicious fiends. More power dedicated to keeping the grass strong, to grow more to replace ones broken, and to grab more fiends. Kale was starting to feel the weight of her power usage, but despite it, she continued to maintain and entrap them.

In her mind though, another battle struggled. A battle of morals. Kale struggled with the decision of killing the fiends, whether it was necessary to kill them. Doesn't the starving wolf attack livestock and people out of hunger? Was this what they normally do? She didn't know whether they attacked out of starvation or malevolence. To keep them trapped would mean that they wouldn't attack others. And it wouldn't mean killing them. But the energy to keep them held back was increasing, and she couldn't keep that up forever. If she ran out of energy and fainted, the fiends would go back to attacking. She had to keep them from attacking people, but she couldn't kill them without full knowledge of their nature.

More and more were grasped, more and more entangled, and more and more energy was being drained. Kale had broken out in a sweat, and her arms were starting to shake from weariness. Soon, her legs will shake and after that.... she'll fade into unconsciousness. Time was ticking. She couldn't let them escape, but she couldn't kill.... she couldn't let them escape but she couldn't kill....

she couldn't let them escape but she couldn't kill...

She couldn't let them escape but....

She couldn't let them escape....

She couldn't.... they'll kill more.... more loss of life.... more loss of people.... people with lives and families.... she couldn't let that happen...

"J-Just die!" Kale exclaimed. She gripped her hands into fists, and let the power flow.

Grass around and under the trap grew and shot straight into it. Like swords into a magician's box, thousands of needle-like grass pierced the mass, going through it and anything in its way. The sharp cried and death wails of the entrapped beasts echoed throughout the field, as dozens were snuff out of existence in a mere second. The piercing grass dotted the green mass, colored red with the blood of the fiends, like red pins stuck into a green pincushion.

Kale stared at her work, her doing, almost puking in revulsion. She.... she killed so helpless creatures. She could barely handle what she did. Memories rushed by in her mind, of similar incidents. All so close, all displays of her power. But... she couldn't recall one instance taking a life, and none so many as this... She had great power over life.... and death...

She snapped back to reality, looking away from the red and green mass. This was a fight, a fight of life and death. She couldn't keep them entrapped without endangering herself and others. This was a time of actions, and she needed to act quickly in order to preserve the lives of her friends, others, and herself.

She took several deep breathes and calmed herself. Keep cool and collected. Sound mind, sound actions. She crossed her arms again, shaking her head and letting an acorn fall out, and let the power flow. The acorn burst with green and woody growth. A sapling quickly grew into a trunk, sprouting many branches with toothy leaves. It grew tall, standing 12 meters from top to bottom. As it grew, the trunk sprouted thick and long arm-like branches which bended at joints and ended with three fingered hands. The bottom split in two, forming thick woody legs with flat bottoms and roots for toes. Two knots formed side by side near the top of the tree with a horizontal split opening right under, forming a face on the tree.

It creaked and cracked as it moved for the first time, the wind rustling its leaves. A treant was born.

Kale dropped to her knees, breathing heavily from the expenditure of energy. She could barely move from it, but it was worth it. Her proud companion was born anew, ready to fight off the beasts that threatened them.

"Go Tom!" Kale shouted, pointing into the grassy fields. Tom acknowledged it, and jumped forth into the grassy field, trampling on two fiends and shaking the ground with its landing. With its long arms, it sweeped through the grass, sending fiends flying off into the air hitting them with strong blows that shattered bones and broke arteries.

Kale crawled to the near wall of the Building, leaning back on it. She used a small bit of her power to maintain control of her friend, but beyond that she sat there resting.
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Northwest Slobovia
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Posts: 11976
Founded: Sep 16, 2006
Anarchy

Postby Northwest Slobovia » Tue Sep 22, 2015 7:10 pm

Monfrox wrote:"Phew. Nice work with the door, man." She said to Sandy. "I'm gonna go see who all needs more help. Take over til I get back for me."

Sandy looked up from the boy's arm he was examining, and nodded distractedly at Brit's departing back. An A for delegation, but Dr. Bela's going to have to fail this one for leadership. Nice fashion sense, though: can't fight a war in our street clothes, can we? Looks like Adrastus guessed wrong.

Sandy turned back to the child. His wounds seemed too minor to be worth spending magic on. What looked like an partially-healed scrape had gotten infected, but that wasn't a concern under the circumstances. Sandy would have sent him and his parents upstairs without another look, but his parents hovered nervously and kept insistently asking Sandy to treat him. They'd just get in the way of the other healers, so Sandy dug out the antibiotic ointment and a band-aid from his and Amanda's first aid kit.

Sandy slathered ointment on the scratch and placed the band-aid over it with exaggerated care, and the boy's parents started oozing gratitude. "Thank you for saving our child, Healer!" Once started, though, they wouldn't stop, and Sandy wondered what helicopter parents were called here.

Sandy tried to dissuade them -- "No, it's nothing, really." -- but they persisted until Sandy got an idea. "Would you like to do a small favor to repay me?" Yes, yes, they would. The fighting between the cyclops and the minotaur had drawn Sandy's attention to the to lobby, and he saw Itum greet an odd-looking centaur, who was being introduced as mayor. That would do nicely.

Sandy found a notepad on a desk, and quickly wrote out a note for Septimus in block print.
Septimus:

Amanda says we have a friendly spell-caster on the roof hurling blocks of ice or glass at the enemy. She thinks these materials might be better used to make field fortifications, to block the enemy and provide a higher vantage point for our gunners. I agree. If you could send somebody up to the roof to see who's there and see if they can do this, I think it would improve our tactical situation. If I could get away from my patients, I'd do it myself.

--Sandy

Sandy folded the paper in quarters, telling the parents to hand it to the man speaking to their mayor when it was convenient for him. "That man, Septimus Itum, is our mayor, more or less, so please treat him with respect."

As the parents left with their child, Sandy turned back to his previous thoughts. Perhaps one of the Guild members could lead the healers. They seemed used to working as a team already, and unlike Brit, were magically skilled. When there was a lull, he'd ask.

A few seconds later, three people carried in a screaming woman with shredded legs, and Sandy turned his full attention to her.
Last edited by Northwest Slobovia on Tue Sep 22, 2015 7:19 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Fvaarniimar
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Posts: 3125
Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Tue Sep 22, 2015 7:39 pm

Some time later they were not running.  That first sprint had worked with the distraction of the tree, but further progress had been slow; they had fought for every bit of ground, fought to keep a circle clear around them.

It was surprising that they were not completely discouraged, but the cheerful chatter of the rather aptly named Euphemia helped to keep their spirits up.

"...were on the slide and Tiia said 'Let's slide sim -' uh, at the same time - the slide looks like a tube, Mrs. Quacky.  So she sat on top and I sat inside, and it was cool!  We could feel each other going down!  But then...aww, come on, you aren't listening again?"

No, they weren't - not really.  Subconsciously it was a little helpful - like a happy little song.  Consciously...no.  The adults were incredibly focused, sharing a single objective and rarely even taking time to speak.  If either human was to survive, they couldn't.

A gap - not the exact direction but close.  They thought. A glance at each other.  Needletoothslingneedletoothneedletooth sling. Owwww.

Wrench pan wrench.  "Twig."  A piece passed over.  Toss.  Pan to the mouth.  The man panted, hyperventilating.

"Breathe!"  It was urgent.  "In."  Breath.  "Ou - zeebppai'ow'ow!"  It took too long to say.  Before the adridged swear finished the rat jumping was hit by the tooth of one of its fellows.  It flailed in the air, throwing off its course slightly; sprinting through the gap, they dodged - Kwa'a embraced the man backwards as it hit; not affection, balance.  Her feet were planted widely; his weren't.  Still, a tripod was fairly stable.  They remained on their feet, and pulled apart, breathing hard.

Some of the rats had managed the same, being pressed side-to-side.  Not all.  Maybe a quarter of the surrounding ones had toppled to some extent, chain reactions raising it to a third.  Good and bad - the right path or close was blocked.  She didn't understand why the Building wasn't visible against the sky; lacking that all they had as a guide was a distant tint of green, faint enough to imagine.

Fighting through, they went in a close direction to that which seemed correct...but apparently not.  "I thought we were going to the pretty castle over there!"

Kwa'a froze for an instant, breath catching in her throat. Rmwtyliin saw one place.  I saw another.  Could it be...

"Point castle, Euphemia!"  Her father looked very confused.  She pointed confidently.

"But - nothing -"

"It's..."  A shrug, unseen though felt by Euphemia.  "It's there."

"I've been talking and talking about it, Mrs. Quacky!  Can't you see?  It's huge and shimry and tearing and masonly booful!"

"Um."  The man's attempt at throat-clearing was interrupted by a snout.  Whap!

"Now -" four needleteeth - "NOT."  Explanations could be given when safe, by people actually fluent in English.

A twig snapped.  Kwa'a looked - a trunk.  Pike.  The end was split already, the wood soft and green.  She kicked it, loading a needletooth, forcing her eyes back open, holding another in her hand.  It jumped far enough into the air (sling needletooth) to grab.  (Load.)  She jammed the needletooth into the split widthwise, and poked at a beast in the way -

It grabbed the trunk in its paws and bit off the end rather as though it were nibbling on a pretzel, stabbing itself in the soft palate in the process.  Squealing at a pitch which hurt ears, it rolled around - taking out three of its fellows along with tripping the man.  A rat leaned over his face and lost some teeth; as it recovered, Kwa'a aimed for its butt.  It whipped around fast enough for the tail to act as an actual whip, stinging Kwa'a, but the father got to his feet.

(And so they pressed on.)

--
In time the convoy had reached the far wall.  The woman Rmwtyliin was supporting looked horribly grey.  They lowered her.  Rmwtyliin checked.  A pulse still beat, but too slowly. 

"What now?"  Morwen looked at Rmwtyliin.  So did every other member of the group in decent condition.

Oh.  Of course those who'd helped were not returning.  These were their people.  And... Apparently they respected her enough to let her lead.  Her, the years-younger second child!  The little girl without experience! It was an unusual feeling - warming and stomach-turning.

Her heritage had taught her some things. Bielefeld had substantially increased what it took to faze her.  Highest priority...  A calm voice, almost rhythmic.  "We need someone who heals really bad wounds, very quickly."  As it was translated, she thought.  Doing it on foot would not help much.  Too many on the floor in the way.  There was no other option - not at home.  She wasn't.  Her gaze landed on the satyr - or rather more accurately on the fairy in his hair.  A broken leg.  Wings like an insect.  Could she fly?

'Ask for names.  It helps you connect.'  No time.  Later.  "Tiny person with wings!"

"Wren!"

"Wren." No time to apologize. "Can you fly? Will you take a message?"

"Yes!" Her eyes - an unusual green - lit up.

"Message: woman dying due to belly gash. Help needed right now. End message. Find -"

"Someone who heals really bad wounds, really quickly." Wren was already flying away.

"And bring them back here!" That hopefully handled, she turned back to the group. Oh. So much red. So much blood.
"I - I need to sit down."  She did. Too warm.  Too loud.  The world was going fuzzy and bright.  So much red -

She lost consciousness, slumping, around the time that Wren spotted someone likely and flew over.

"Woman dying due to belly gash! Help needed right now! Need someone who heals really bad wounds really fast! If you can, please come!"
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Giovenith
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 19629
Founded: Feb 08, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Tue Sep 22, 2015 8:11 pm

It would have been easy to miss Nick's voice had Giovenith not been coincidentally looking down at home, smiling but hurriedly scooping him up onto her shoulder as she latched on to a bleeding arm.

"Hey Nick," she tried to chat with the kitty as she mended the arm. "You might be squished in this crowd! Do you need a safe place to be?"

There could be several places Giovenith could stuff Nick, but she couldn't hold onto him while doing her healing. Unless...

"Or you could help Willow too, he's talking with the others!" It was such a rush to pass suggestions.
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Monfrox
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Father Knows Best State

Postby Monfrox » Tue Sep 22, 2015 8:37 pm

Brit nodded to Otogi and side-stepped to let him in, taking the redbull back and stuffing it into her cargo pocket. This would perhaps come in handy at some point. What else to do. The triage was going well, Sandy would still need help though. Gretta. Where was she? Over there. She quickly headed over to the raptor and nudged her a bit.

"Hey Gretta, Sandy needs some help down in the clinic. I'm gonna go to library and see if anyone needs any help. Can you go see him down there for me? We really need the extra help." She would leave Gretta to decide on her own, as Brit was merely making a suggestion.

The girl walked into the Library and took a second to look over the crowd. Holy shit, this was a lot of people. Giovenith and Willow sure had their work cut out for them. She walked among them and looked around.

"Is anyone hurt?" She asked.

Almost immediately she was grabbed at by an older woman.

"It's my husband! Please, you have to help him!"

Brit went with the woman to see a man laying on the ground.

"What happened."

"He just collapsed, I-I don't know-"

Brit went to a knee and laid her arm across his chest after turning him onto his back. Her heart pumped a mile a minute as she felt around his neck for a pulse.

"Is he-?"

"H-he ain't breathin', gimme room."

Brit's assessment was that CPR was going to have to be done here before moving him. So she tilted the man's head up to clear his airway and then went to work doing compressions.

"One - Two - Three - Four." She counted over and over as she breathed with each push.



The three Froxians fell out of the grass and out into the river of villagers still trying to escape.

"Sound off!" Mon called out, throwing her torn overcoat off. Thankfully, the grass hadn't stripped her naked.

"I'm here!" Varona called out, taking Mon's coat and taking her cloak off as well. Both were almost ribbons by this point.

Flint merely groaned and stumbled to her feet. A nasty gash across her face narrowly missed her eye, but was bleeding profusely. Her side also looked like it had a piece missing from it. Mon and Varona had gotten off lucky with several light cuts and shredded clothes, but Flint was in trouble.

"Varona watch yourself, I'm going to Flint inside."

"Yes ma'am."

Mon took Flint onto her back and walked into the lobby to set Flint down.

"Can I get a hand here?"
Gama Best Horror/Thriller RP 2015 Sequel
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
Xing wrote:Yeah but you also are the best at roleplay. (yay Space Core references) I'm pretty sure a four man tank crew is no problem for someone that had 27 different RP characters going at one time.

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