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

[Fvaarniimar]

Nick enjoyed the snuggle break, even taking a few moments to just cuddle before he set a rear paw on her arm, feelings of contentment spilling through.
<I can numb/block pain.  Wasn't sure earlier - entirely certain now.  Thought it might help here - wounds hurt.  Fixing them hurts (blurred image, needle pulling thread through skin) also.  Oh!>  Excitement now.  <Earlier there was this guy - he was dead.  There was a syringe in his hand (Image of the ReAnima syringe) with that reanima stuff and I got it injected and he's alive now!>  Pride.  Then a bit of embarrassment.  <Er.  Anyway.  Is there anywhere you think I'd be useful, now you know that?> She was organizing things, after all.

[Torsiedelle]

Well, there went Torii trying to lighten the mood. She hadn't been so close to the grass, but these women had. Thankfully, they were alright...

All except Flint. Torii was quick to notice, and a pang of fright shot through her. Flint was a fighter she didn't have many dealings with, but who she respected anyways. Torii saw that her injuries were pretty nasty, and thought that she should dress them quickly and get her to...wherever the healers were. She turned and ran back in, behind Mon. "I'll help!", She said, resting her AK next to her on the floor. "shouldn't we help the bleeding before we move her? I can put a quick bandage over her eye and side so she doesn't bleed too much on the way.", She said. "I can do it."

She felt as though she should repay the woman for that shot she gave her, after that fake Katya injured her arm. Torii grabbed the barrel of her rifle, and then pulled on the bottom of her tank top. She poked a hole in it, and began to tear around, getting a few inches wide of the fabric and tearing them further into two parts. "The best I can do is tie these tight and put pressure on the wounds. Is that good enough?", She asked, stretching the strips out. She didn't wait long, however, before the placed a hand to Flint's face. She lifted her head up just enough to slip a strip of fabric under it, and laid the rest over her face wound, leaving her other eye able to see. She made sure it was tight, but not too tight, and started to tie it in place.

"Is this good? How about her side, Mon?", She asked. "And what's with the grass? You and Varona are alright?"

[Swith Witherward]

"What in the hell is going on out there?" the old Abbot thundered.

The priests had backed into the Building and slammed the door shut once the grass had started to grow. Adrastus stormed down the maintenance hallway. The door whipped on its hinges and slammed against the lobby wall, startling those nearby. Brothers trailed in his wake, carrying their wounded towards the clinic. They hadn't expected to walk in to find so many new faces.



The Cervitaur accepted Septimus' firm handshake in kind. She had nothing else to offer him.

"What you see is what you get, Sir." It was an apology wrapped up in resignation. "The village itself is not too far from here. My people have shuttered their windows and barred their doors. The unlucky souls on your doorstep are but sheep herders and farmers. We're short on warriors, and we've asked the City for months on end to support us. These damn attacks are occurring more and more frequently."

Exasperated, Ayla stamped a tidy front hoof, then turned warm eyes framed by soft brown lashes on Septimus once more. "At least they'll be gone come sunrise. They perish in its light. No one knows where they come from, or how there can be so many. They aren't coming from the Freywold. They aren't coming from the Outermark."

The Cervitaur shook her head. She'd forgotten her manners. "Thank you, and your people, for coming to our aid. We use these ruins as sanctuary when the Fiends strike, seeking shelter as best we can. We never, in our wildest dreams, thought we'd come here and find the structure restored. How have you done this? Are you newly gathered from..."

The lobby dissolved in front of Septimus' eyes, replaced by rolling green grass up to his withers. The world around him had become pungent, and the colors a nauseatingly vibrant wash that went beyond his customary spectrum; these were unnamed by his mind, having never before been viewed by human eyes. He could detect the heat of the field mouse that had sought shelter in the burrow under his feet, and sensed its fear. The Fiend's screams assaulted his ears as they swarmed around him, leaping onto him to escape the grass that pierced them all and that had brought him to his belly. He struggled and convulsed although the man himself had made no conscious effort to, nor could he feel any pain. Above it all,the helicopter's rotors beat out their dull thump as Bran unleashed his volley, but the rockets were meant for suppression elsewhere, and he was alone in his struggles.

Scel was dying, defeated by the rabid nature around her, and her pilot could not be ejected. Protocol wouldn't allow the Overseer, already pierced and damaged, to be cast into such a precarious situation. She pushed to remain conscious, her mind clawing at the tether to summon the man that loved her other, quiet nature. She attempted to convey the emotion shared between them but Scel, lacking the ability to internalize love on her pilot's behalf, was thwarted. The tether dimmed, then grew still.

"...is understandable," Ayla sighed. The villagers in the lobby near them had broken out into soft conversations, each intensely curious about their surroundings.

Her head tilted. She placed a hand on Septimus' arm. "Sir, are you alright?"

Someone by the door gave an alarmed shout. Outside, the grass had turned deadly, and a monster grew from nothingness.




"What the hell?!"

It had taken Hans some time to extract himself from the Building's outside tap. He'd gone into the pipes to report to Klaus, and had been trapped there as the Building skipped from the dimension. Freed at last, he pulled at his uniform jacket to cover his exposed belly, then turned to find himself surrounded by... "What the fuck?!"

He hadn't any time to properly digest things. There were monsters. The monsters chased screaming people. The screaming people were ushered inside the Building. They must be allies or innocents and where the fuck are we? What the fuck happened to the stars? These aren't Earth's familiar sights! What the fuck happened to the moon? It was huge and blue and looked broody. And WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THE GRASS?"

And then the grass began to attack and Hans heard the villagers' terrified screams.

He wasn't a Klaus. He never had been and never would be, but all the Men were gifted with an insanity that ate at their minds and allowed them to blur reality. If you thought it - saw it, firmly believed it - it was so. And so Hans did what only he could do. He shouted at them to take a bath.

And so it was, as cast iron claw foot tubs poofed into existence under startled villagers. But the grass was unruly, and baths were more fun when high. And so it was, and the tubs floated into the sky, villagers and Residents alike grasping their smooth, rounded edges as the shower curtains, suspended by circular rods attached to thin poles, billowed into great sails that caught the evening breeze and sent them towards the Building. They began to cluster there like unruly bumper cars jostling for space, each slowly descended one at a time to allow their occupants to step onto the roof's surface. Aegis, Minerva, Ocho, Deuce and the rest of the Residents would land first.

He wasn't paying attention to tubs, though. His attention was drawn to the lumbering plant creature. A lip raised. Fucking plant girl and her nonsense! His eyes narrowed and Rache stirred within him. Tom screamed in agony as his body erupted into a pillar of contained fire, destroying the deadly grass down to its roots as it spread outward. The the flash fire lept over walls and danced across roads and would have killed every being in its path had they not been set into tubs. Minus the Fiends, of course. They burned with the vegetation.

It wasn't until the grass was gone that Hans was able to spot three massive forms in the distance. Only one form was moving. He hadn't imagined the Drone and Exos being there, and so had not thought to make tubs large enough for them. A wall of Fiends rolled behind them, having not been were the grasses were, intent on swarming them if allowed the chance.



The occupants in the garage were none the wiser about the chaos outside. Marcus took note of a fiery flash that scorched the grass and Fiends outside the gate, but that only meant someone had paved the way for them. He activated the gate with a press of the remote, then nosed the truck onto the gravel road.

It wasn't difficult to spot the burning Tom. Marcus almost hit Hans, however. The cultist sucked in his belly and hollered in pain as the tires ran over his foot. Hopping on the other, he opened the passenger door and hauled himself into the seat.

"Drive. Now. DRIVE! Rache is expended. We need to get the Nifid. FUBAR can't hold things."

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

Neil was taken by surprise in the grass, he had ran out along the edge to provide ranged support, but now his Electric Gun would only serve to set fire to the lawn. He holstered his weapon and took a leap into the grass, visually impaired but he relied on his sense of smell to track down the quarry. The grass slowed him down and was a bit more tiring ever since he skipped quite a few daily jogs. He began tearing through fiends that crossed his snaking path with his razor teeth and sharp claws. The blood spraying from their veins onto his hide triggered primal adrenaline, Neil was as much of a beast as he was an intellectual. He kept his path away from where he smelled the others, picking off the edges and constantly darting into the cover of the grass.

Suddenly he found himself in sudden pain as the needle-like grass sprouted and lacerated his hide from beneath and the sides. It hadn't knocked the fight completely out of him but he knew he'd be easier to track by scent with his own blood droplets pouring out. Once he saw a tree monster he knew it was time to get out of the grass. He made a leap forward and started to ran out of the grass where he found his fedora and tie full of holes and soaking up his blood from the wounds. He needed to take a breather from the encounter, and with that he found a bathtub carrying him up to the roof. He couldn't ask for a better break than that, though he was a bit upset he was physically out of the fight. Perhaps he could grab heavier ordinance on the way back down, he thought. On the roof he took several deep breaths letting the smoke of the fire below fill his lungs with the sweet aroma of purification.

---

Fortu fell back near the entrance as the grass shredded off parts of his flesh exterior, revealing the machinery underneath in some places. He yelped in pain as he dropped his makeshift weapon and held what was left of his face in place. It took a while for him to shut down the connection to his pain receptors, but once he did he could focus again. No major damage and food reserves were still at acceptable levels, perhaps a bit low since he hadn't had breakfast yet.

He tore a bit of his nightshirt off into a strip and tied it around his head like a bandana to keep the loose parts in place. With that, he grabbed another lamp to make sure the fiends stayed out of the building.

---

"I'm on it Brit." Gretta confirmed to Brit and grabbed her kit which was nearly drained of medi-beam solution. She hadn't expected to deal with this volume of patients. Going to the clinic she greeted Sandy. "Morning Horseman, now who needs a bit of surgery?" she said and noticed the woman with shredded legs. "That has to hurt." Gretta commented and with a swift motion stabbed the woman with a dose of anesthetics. She tossed her hat aside and examined the legs for foreign objects. "Miss, do you know where the rest of those meat sticks you call legs are?" she asked the patient with a brash bedside manner. Turning to sandy she spoke in a loud whisper, "We ran out of spare limbs upstairs. Can you help stop the bleeding so we don't go through the whole box of gauze." she asked.

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Unsatisfied with the lack of answer, and growing impatient rapidly, Crysal began to bark out orders. She'd deal with the social consequences of it later (likely through headbutting). "I want six of you to go pick up shields! Anything you can find! Tables, riot placements. I don't care. If it's sturdy and you're sturdy, form a damn wall!" She stomped on the ground to emphasize her point, and several waiting in the lobby quickly ran off. She scoured the room again... it was like a bunch of lost ducklings waiting for their parent.

"The rest of you, get anything with long reach you can stab or shoot with. Form up behind the wall, and attack at will."

It'd been too long since she'd used the shield wall tactic. It was once a mainstay of hers. Perfect protection from arrows and bolts, worked well against mindless, charging hordes as well. While she waited for her impromptu troops to return, Crysal kneeled down beside Adri, taking a look at her leg. "Get those cleaned up and help out upstairs... understood?"

Adri glared up at Crysal... after six hundred years on her own she considered it insulting to have to take orders from her elder sister again. Regardless of how she felt, she was right... The bleeding was going to cause faintness soon enough, and her skills would be better used healing the wounded rather than weakly swatting at the enemy. "Understood..." She slowly, laboriously got up on her legs again and began limping toward the elevator.

Crysal considered carrying her there, but she didn't trust those under her command alone. Adri could tough it out. With an extended sigh, she sat back and waited for the improvised shield-bearers. Two came with riot shields, two with rectangular kitchen tables, and finally a duo with some wooden palettes. Not the ideal combination, but it'd have to do. The other half of the wall ran inside shortly after, armed with an array of pitchforks, knives attached to sticks with duct-tape to create improvised spears, and one fellow with a hunting bow.

"Shieldwall, FORM!" She yelled, motioning her arm in a flamboyant fashion. The shieldbearers moved in front of the door, ready to part ways for civilians and residents fleeing the grass and beasts outside, but also prepared to hold back the horde. Behind them, the spears and bow, ready to start stabbing and firing.

"Hold your fire until I command it. Get your friends out of here alive, and I'll grant you some fancy estates in Arkadacia." It hadn't dawned on Crysal that they were far, far away from home. Impossibly far, at that.

[Highfort]

"Sir, are you alright?"

The short answer would've been a simple "No". Then, Septimus would've sat down and taken in how he felt about all this business, and perhaps he would've curled up into a ball and cried. He was crying too much these past few weeks, ever since he came to Bielefield. He had time, then; he didn't have it now. No, this had to be bottled and shoved deep down to where it could not hurt him. He had a job to do and people relying on him - people who would die if he fucked up.

The cyborg's organic eye twitched slightly as he pressed down the feeling of emptiness that flooded him as he mentally searched the tether, reaching out and finding nothing but silence on the other end of the line. Not even Scel was present to at least offer him some reassurance that a part of Neste had survived. The construct and her exo were so silent he felt a great pressure in his mind, as though he was going to explode. Nothing came out.

He let out a hoarse sigh and turned to the Mayor of North Warnsborough with a tired look on his face, "I'm... fine, Mayor Mercer. You say these were ruins, before? I... I'm sorry, something just... Let me handle whatever's happening first and we'll sort all this out. Terribly sorry."

Turning toward the alarmed shout, Septimus' mouth fell ajar as he witnessed red mist spray from the overgrown grass as limb and body alike were cut open in a horrible display of macabre horticulture and, slightly behind this fountain of crimson, a huge tree-like being could be seen wreaking havoc in front of the Building's lawn.

"What the fuck is going on?" Septimus sputtered, running forward toward the blood splashing on the front windows, "Someone get outside and secure those people! Get a bombing run on... whatever that giant fucking tree is and secure the area! Guards, get outside and free those people, NOW!"

Several of the refugees had taken up a shieldwall formation in front of the door, blocking the guards from exiting, and Septimus was about to grunt in frustration and yell at Crysal for arranging them in such an inconvenient position before he witnessed something extraordinary.

With how strange Bielefield and Mr. Demens' Building were, the word extraordinary seemed to lose purpose. It was repeating so often for events that happened regularly that he started to wonder if perhaps mundane things happening was, in fact, an extraordinary occurrence in this dimension.

Bath tubs appeared. Out of all the ridiculous things - bath tubs! Septimus watched in total shock as the tubs were raised into the air by what appeared to be their shower curtains now being used as makeshift sails. The huge treant that had been rampaging in the front yard was promptly set ablaze along with the grass, ending the rampaging vegetation with smoke and crisp plant matter filling the air.

The immediate refugees and Residents were safe. Still, there was no sign of Neste or Scel. He didn't have time to concern himself with their safety, however. There was still a job to do.

"You say these things disappear at daybreak?" Septimus turned back to Ayla, "So another wave might still be coming in to strike us? I lost contact with one of ours on the front lines; she looked like..."

The images, vivid as actual memories - which they were, just not his, of course - flashed in his head. He felt Scel reaching out to him, but he couldn't understand what she was trying to say. A grimace briefly crossed his face.

"She was overrun," he said, voice lowered and somewhat reverent, as though if he spoke in the wrong tone, fate would see fit to deny him the woman who had finally helped him confront his inner demons, "There's still Fiends out there and it's not close to daytime yet."

Voice rising as he focused on the matters at hand, Septimus looked over the lobby, "Guards, with the Fiends gone for the time being, I want all but two of you to help move the injured. Free up the medical staff so they can focus on triage and treatment while you guys do the heavy lifting. Two of you..."

He pointed at a steely-faced elf and a brash-looking Minotaur, "Stay by the door and watch the windows. As soon as the next wave arrives, I want to know immediately. I want everyone in the lobby to know. Soon as it arrives, you get back to your posts and you give them all you've got. Am I understood?"

"I may have the face of a bull but my mind is not so dull," the Minotaur snorted, "We can handle it."

"Good," Septimus turned back to the mayor, "Mayor Mercer, I know your people are not fighters, but they can help with the logistics side of the effort. We have medics going around but they're exhausted treating the injured. If anyone in your town knows of medicine - even rudimentary bandaging and helping cuts and bruises - they will be needed in the clinic. We also need people to help Giovenith, one of our other Residents, pacify the refugees in the library."

Realizing that those on the roof would be injured, he added, "I need to go to up and survey the damage. We'll be able to get a better view of the next horde of Fiends from there. You're welcome to join me after you sort out any manpower you can spare."

Before he could search for a medic to join him on the roof and start triage, he was interrupted by a family with nervous-looking parents and a slightly-scratched child offering him a note.

"Hm?" he accepted the paper and looked it over before nodding at the child, "Thank you for your help. Go to the library, Giovenith will take care of you there."

Turning toward the clinic, Septimus offered a final word to the mayor before he went to fetch Sandy. The healer would be perfect for this, not to mention a firsthand look at the surrounding environment would let Sandy communicate whatever needed to be done to Amanda without things getting lost in translation.

"Good luck, Mayor," he ran off, skidding to a stop as Sandy was turning his attention to a screaming woman with shredded legs. Gretta took over the situation, much to the cyborg's relief, and he tapped on the shoulder of the sorcerer, "Sandy, I got your note. The injured outside just got sent to the roof - some crazy magic shit with bath tubs and shower curtains or something. Anyways, I was thinking you could come do triage with me and help out some of the more severely wounded Residents and refugees on the roof, so we don't have to bring them down here. Plus, we could look over the surrounding area together and figure out, as Amanda mentioned, how to deal with the tactical situation. We have a breather right now, let's exploit it."

[Fvaarniimar]

The switch had occurred again a few minutes prior to the sudden existence of tubs.  Euphemia had been cheerily still describing the 'booful tearing castle' to 'Papa' and 'Mrs. Quacky'; she had apparently concluded that since they couldn't see it it was her duty to paint a clear picture for them with words. 

The adults...the adults had felt grim.  Perhaps a pretty picture would have cheered them up.  It wasn't likely.  They were tired.  Kwa'a saw that the man was tired.  She was exhausted and limping.  It was early; she needed sleep; she hadn't eaten.  The frying pan drooped in her left hand. 

Her leg bled (stabbed through as the grass had grown), as did Euphemia's hand (grabbing grass in an attempt to break a fall.)  It could have been worse than these minor injuries.  A grass blade had shot over the heads of her companions.  A few feet lower and Kwa'a would have returned alone, her companions more doomed than some of the creatures they could hear squealing behind them.

A large fraction were pinned.  It was bad and good.  Some weren't.  Some were and blocked the way.  That - perhaps that was the worst part: often they had to take wildly meandering paths to stand even a chance of making progress.  Euphemia, seeing the Building as a lofty castle, continued guiding them; without that aid they would have been lost.  Occasionally a fiend had been pinned fatally; then they clambered over the body, carefully dodging the blades.  Before things had been easier in a way.  They had fought for every inch, but they had gotten those inches.  They had (once they knew where it was) moved almost straight towards the Building.  The grass they had to avoid, hard in the dark; or, if they had to step where untrammeled grass grew, it was necessary to check every last blade.  The 'blade' grass could do more than maim.  It could kill them as it had some of those rats.  Ah, the rats.  They were hardly silent death; often they could be heard coming, especially then.

There was one advantage to this new method of proceeding, and that was that it allowed short breaks.  On one such break the squealing of rats pinned nearby drowned out Euphemia.  But they had needed the break.  Neither had noticed the sound of one more rat until its maw was inches from Kwa'a.

There was no time for slinging (too close anyway) no time even to scream.  Her adrenaline was by and large spent.  Strength shot through her right arm then; for an instant she could outclass most strong men.  The pan smashed into its nose - it backed away - she gasped in shock and in pain at the scratches' irritation.  Had it really been that desperate?

They pressed on.  It often felt as though they were going in circles. They were getting a little closer, but not a lot.  They hadn't hit the edge of the grounds.  Their breaks grew longer.  The weapons started being set on the ground.  They looked at each other and knew that they stood little chance of making it -

But waiting for rescue hadn't seemed like an option.  No one knew where they were.  Even if someone looked,  the grass obscured them.  The rats would smell them.  She expected a vehicle might be in the air; she had seen one earlier.  They didn't have any means to signal save lighting a fire; that would only turn the place into more of a deathtrap.  It wasn't something to completely eliminate as an option, but...it was a last-ditch resort.  Quite honestly, what the trio needed was a miracle.

They pressed on - check all upright grass, check death of rat, climb, narrowly dodge blade grass on other side, sling mobile rats - and before long they actually got one.

Her next step made the ground ring.  Metal?  It wasn't the right sound.  But why would there be ceramic underfoot?  She became aware of something soft.  Fabric.  Synthetic?  It touched her hands and cut off her view.  She had walked into a bathtub without realizing?  Her foot slipped enough to frighten her.  She found the gap in the curtain, peeked out.  Another tub alongside her, two now-very-familiar voices emanating from it.  Far too coincidental.  So...rescue!  But they would be easy to trap in these tubs...was the ground further away than it had been?  She watched as the creatures and plants which had so harmed and impeded burned away.  She didn't feel glee at their plight; the glee had been in a good fight for a noble purpose, at the start.  Now it was satisfaction; the monstrous things were paid back in full and done menacing them.  They were safe -

They were safe!  She could have someone see to her arm and leg.  Euphemia's hand would be fine.  She could take an actual bath...soak her feet and everything else for hours.  Maybe with that scented soap. Ahhhh.

Soon she perceived her bathtub atop mossy iron-rich rock; something between the grass she would expect atop what the building suddenly was and the mica-laden fire-red quartz almost glowing in all colors of the rainbow that it would have been to her had circumstances differed (and had there been more light.) It was a cave; in times of danger that was always her refuge.  It was however the best-lit cave Kwa'a had ever encountered, warm light from within illuminating the lawn; it was also shifting back to normal now, as she went from desperation for a safe place to rather desiring some creature comforts.  She gasped in delight as the roof started to shimmer softly in moonlight, and stood.

A stain on the right side of the tub was revealed - her blood.  She tried to step out.  She could barely feel even her unstabbed leg.  Sitting herself back down and easing herself out from that position, she sat down and enjoyed the roof, taking inventory of her wounds.  Feet.  Likely blistered.  Maybe bleeding.  She removed her shoes, biting her lip.  Heavily blistered.  Many of the blisters had popped.  Legs.  Right had been stabbed, through flesh and muscle; the flesh surrounding had been further damaged when cutting the grass had not been an option and she had had to pull it out.  Currently wrapped with a long section of her hem; the brown was now quite reddish. Additionally, both legs bore multiple lacerations.  Torso.  Largely fine, although she had sweated enough for the cloth of her dress to chafe pretty badly. Some rips in the dress. A laceration over her ribs, another on her back or so it felt. A pinprick near her right hip. Neck. Her collar felt hot and was falling to yarn. She untied the drawstring. Laceration on left of neck. She had a knife, very dull due to its recent use to cut vegetables, cloth, and the like set on a wooden board. It served as a mirror. Deeper than skin. Clotting a little in spots but bleeding. Sap or something might have held it shut. She considered stitching - later if absolutely needed. For now she pressed it closed, pressed on a strip of her dress and most of the yarn, and wrapped a denim strip over it as a bandage. Head. Fine. One laceration: tip of left ear to cheek, depth varying. Arms. Five lacerations, three on right arm. All on top side of arm. Only one on upper arm (left). One, no, two scratches on underside of right arm - one an inch long, one nearly a foot. Swollen, pink skin around both.

Most of her muscles: numb.

She was so tired, and she could barely move. It wouldn't hurt anything if she took a nap while waiting to be seen; of course, she would wake up if moved.

[Primordial Luxa]

Insidious took the redbull from Brit and chugged it like a cool glass of standard water her skin flashing with hues of luscious red and pure white like a set of ambulance lights. As she looked up at Brit her eyes were dilated beyond belief as a cocktail of dissociative ketamine and simulative cocaine, it wasn’t more than she could handle but given the current circumstances it was very unnerving to see her so intoxicated.

She allowed Ogoti to carry her in an almost sleeping state of blissful narcotic peace that occurred before the drug fueled mania would force her into action again. As she sat there, her skin became a series of black and white rings expanding like a classic hypnotist’s wheel. While her skin changed so did the air around her which popped with small sounds as she drew energy out of her crystal earring and into her eyes in order to cast a spell of domination on those people that caught her gaze. She gave them a simple order which wouldn’t require much spiritual residue and which would be easy for them all to carry out. “Live.”

It was simple and hopefully it was as efficient as Insidious hoped it would prove to be. Her goal was to instill a greater passion for life in these people to stop them from falling asleep with large wounds or subtly effect their subconscious. She was trying to construct unnatural bridges of alien mental light between the crowd’s subconscious, conscious, and bodily functions. However eventually after trying to write the will to live inside these poor villagers she allowed the final rush of cocaine to fill her muscles and the last drop of ketamine to push the pain to the back of her mind.

---

Aegis was very surprised by the fact he was surreally being carried aloft by a floating bath tub to the top of the roof but he didn’t struggle afraid of a deathly fall from such and incredible height which would certainly prove fatal. Once it had safely landed on top of the building’s roof he leaped out and looked at the others taking note of what states they were all in as he tried to steady himself and maintain a decent composer.

Eventually he turned to the others on the roof and said “We’re missing three people. We need one team to get down to ground level and help guard the perimeter before more of those things arrive. We also need another team to go back out there and look for the fighters that got too far away. ”

---

At this point Primordial had dropped his tactile telekinetic shield in order to use his abilities instead to move things around the lobby for the medical team and to drag villagers from outside into the building in order to speed up the whole process. They would find themselves suddenly being pushed or hover quickly through the buildings door and up the stairs to the medical area, before he finally relaxed his powers and stopped tapping into the mighty talons of the All in One and the One in All.

By this point Primordials skin was a patchwork of blisters and boils from his overheating skin and he ran with much agony into the nearest restroom in order to get a drink of water and soak his roasting head under a faucet.

After a while he made his way back to the lobby where his cane was still sitting and he retrieved the dagger hilt and walked over to the front door. He began carving into the frame of the door a series of pseudo-religious and Arcanotech symbols into the wooden portal all the while chanting softly in a language where every other syllable was either from the ghoulish dreamers tongue or the even more ancient sounds of the moths from the dark side of moon. It was a string of potent hexes which would be effective against a particular foe and after they were carved he collected the organs from one of the fiends in the lobby he had killed and began smearing its vicious remains on the symbols to code it to their unique signature.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Going to the clinic she greeted Sandy. "Morning Horseman, now who needs a bit of surgery?" she said and noticed the woman with shredded legs. "That has to hurt." Gretta commented and with a swift motion stabbed the woman with a dose of anesthetics.

Sandy ignored Gretta's jibe, but winced at her ham-handed greeting of the patient. He gave her a dirty look, but said nothing. He had more important things to worry about.

She tossed her hat aside and examined the legs for foreign objects before applying antibiotics and wrapping them up in bandages.

Sandy stopped Gretta as she moved to bandage the poor woman, catching one of her taloned arms in his hand. "Save the bandages for another patient. I have better means of treating this woman. Just watch." Sandy carefully dabbed his fingers and thumbs in the cup of the Balm of Gilead, and rubbed the Balm on one of the woman's thighs, working his way down from the top-most section of her wounds. The Balm joined her tattered flesh into a whole, and it started to gain some color as the salve knitted her severed blood vessels together.

Sandy was most of the way down the woman's left leg when Gretta shot her mouth off:

"Miss, do you know where the rest of those meat sticks you call legs are?" she asked the patient with a brash bedside manner. Turning to sandy she spoke in a loud whisper, "We ran out of spare limbs upstairs.

The woman let out a terrified wail, thrashing and trying to a better look at her damaged legs. Sandy reached out and caught her gently by the shoulders, looking at her with his best Kindly Professor Bela expression. "Pay no attention to the nasty reptile." He softened his tone, becoming soothing. "Listen to me, please. My name is Sandy Bela. I'm a skilled healer. Your legs will be fine, I'm sure of it."

The woman stopped struggling, and relaxed a tiny bit. Sandy returned to rubbing the Balm on her legs, talking to her as he did so. "What I'm applying now is called the Balm of Gilead. It closes wounds, and helps them heal rapidly. It comes from a plant that's mentioned in the holy books of several gods, so it's very well regarded." Sandy kept up his calm, matter of fact patter as he finished coating her legs. The Balm soaked in almost immediately, and the initial results looked promising: her legs looked like legs again, though they'd lost a lot of muscle.

As he poured Ox Blood into a paper cup from Ogoti's tea pot, Sandy resumed his quiet explanation. "This... this is a gift of a healing god who paid me a visit earlier this morning. It's extremely effective; it'll help your legs even further." He offered her the cup. "I know it has an odd spicy-salty taste, but do drink it all. It'll start to work almost immediately." The woman sipped the Ox blood tentatively, made a face at it, but then finished it all. Good, that was a double dose. The effects of multiple doses were never quite additive, but under the circumstances...

As Sandy watched, the woman's legs seemed to swell a bit, as the Ox Blood sped her body's regrowth of its lost muscle. Sandy doubted she'd be in perfect health afterwards, but she might be able to walk again in a few hours. He checked her feet. Hmmm. She had most of her right foot, and a little more than a heel on her left. Doing more for her was beyond his means, but other healers -- or as Gretta crudely suggested, transplant surgery -- should be able to do the rest. Sandy bandaged the woman's feet to try to cover the extent of her wounds, then directed the other people to take her upstairs to the other healers.

He button-holed one of them, an older man, on the way out. "What happened? Teeth and claws didn't do that to her." The man offered only a fragmentary, confusing answer. "We were running from the Fiends, and the grass grew over our heads. As we were just about to your front door, it started to attack, cutting and slashing like swords and spears. She was the last of the four of us, and... you see what happened."

Sandy let him go, and angrily turned to Gretta. "Why are you here?? And why are frightening my p--"

He never had been and never would be, but all the Men were gifted with an insanity that ate at their minds and allowed them to blur reality. If you thought it - saw it, firmly believed it - it was so. And so Hans did what only he could do. He shouted at them to take a bath.

And so it was, as cast iron claw foot tubs poofed into existence under startled villagers. But the grass was unruly, and baths were more fun when high. And so it was, and the tubs floated into the sky, villagers and Residents alike grasping their smooth, rounded edges as the shower curtains, suspended by circular rods attached to thin poles, billowed into great sails that caught the evening breeze and sent them towards the Building.

Sandy's Hearing caught the rising edge of a harsh, furious shout, and he darted out of the clinic and into the lobby. He looked out of the front windows just as the shout died away and began to echo. He'd Heard the shout tear the fabric of reality, and the echos Heard were the weave's attempt to rejoin. The pattern broke across the mismatched gap, and bathtubs rose into the sky. Sandy's eyes widened as the implications sank in. That wasn't quite a god's work, but it was extraordinarily powerful, so much so that even his dulled Senses told him the caster wasn't too far away; not somebody he'd Heard or Seen before, but he'd recognize their magic if he Saw it again.

The firestorm he Heard as a raging screech was almost an afterthought: Sandy doubted mortals could manipulate magic that strong, but it seemed a tiny thing to the previous spell. Sandy couldn't catch a Signature in its discord, but he knew it wasn't the same person's magic. Two of them? Good thing they seemed to be on our side.

[Swith Witherward]

"She was overrun."

The Representative's words burdened Ayla's heart. How often had she heard similar? One more candle snuffed out. One more empty chair at the table. Her eyes roamed the vicinity to take in the family groups moving towards comfort rooms, and she sighed for the recently widowed or orphaned. Nothing could banish this horrid feeling, not even the enchanted tubs sailing through the air, although they did lighten the load in the Mayor's heart.

"We will do all we can to help," the Cervitaur patted Septimus' arm to indicate she understood. She watched him depart. "By grace of Demens, we will endure, Sir," she murmured at his retreating back.

Ayla shook away the dark clouds threatening to envelope her. No time, no time. Her white tail flicked and she reared before dropping front legs to the ground in a lout clatter. Deer barked loudly, and Ayla was perfectly capable of making herself heard over the lobby noise. Several short, explosive cries rang out. Villagers paused at the familiar sound, so reminiscent of a hoarse dog's vocalizations.

"People of the Burrow! Listen!"

Conversations ceased. Now only the sounds of the injured and dying, and the noise of the healers treating them, could be heard. But this was part of Ayla's plan. "Do you hear? There is no time. Strong bipedal males of the Caravansary, form teams and report to the roof. Quadrupeds, become litters to move the injured and dying here on the ground floor. Herbalists, report to the clinic to wrap wounds."

She strode forward, elegant legs carrying her along in graceful stride. "If you are not seriously injured, move quietly to the library. Do not take away attention from those needing it most! Masquiel, are you here?"

It was an odd word to utter, but it was also the name of the village hag. The old, ugly creature stepped forward, her gnarled and warty hands hands firmly grasping her toad familiar. Ayla smiled upon seeing her. Good. Perfect, in fact. The local schoolteacher didn't spook easily.

"Masquiel, gather the children in the library. Set them to songs and stories, or art. But set older ones here, by the desk, as well as on the floors to serve as runners between roof and ground. Then, please, let's find a way to do a head count. I want to know who is with us and who has fallen."

The hag's withered face flinched. Fallen. There had been so many recently. "Yes, Ayla," came her reply, and a hand reached into a dark cloak to produce a brass bell.

She set it to ringing, calling children to her as she shuffled towards the library. Their parents released them, knowing what came next. Those still with strength stepped forward to volunteer themselves as defenders. Those weakened or too overwhelmed by grief, or those too small to be of much help, were escorted away. The rest set off, as Ayla requested, to lend assistance.

The Cevitaur trotted ahead, seeking this Giovenith.



The roof was the embodiment of insanity when Minerva arrived. The vacant tubs had floated away a little and bobbed on the gentle night wind. Confused people milled about, and those lacerated by the grass screamed in agony. The scant Lads on the roof - retirees, mainly - had their hands full. Minerva didn't believe in micromanaging; they were professionals, let them fall back on their training and experiences.

"People, if you are not injured, please go stand next to that large building on the right. That's a hangar. We need you out of the way so we can gather the wounded. We'll alert people in the lobby that they're needed here. Listen to Aegis. If you can defend, take the stairs down. I'll ask that only the powerful go back out to search for the missing people. Don't take unnecessary risks! We don't have the resources to come get you!"

As with any spontaneous battle, there were always miscommunications. A Lad departed, heavy boots clattering as he tore down the stairs in search of either Klaus or Itum.



The girl stepped from the hangar's shadow. A soft hand tucked itself into Aegis' own, the fingers gently intertwining with his. Her head tilted, and the breeze captured her honey-blonde locks, causing them to billow and curl around her face. She smiled, though her eyes were filled with sorrow.

"Hello Aegis," Naomi's breathed greeting matched the expression captured by lavender eyes. "I've missed you very much, good friend. I will help you look for the lost."



Ocho was beside himself, thrashing about in his tub so violently that it briefly considered dropping the unruly thade. His savage cries for Nila had abated, replaced with a seething growl that vibrated his chest wall as he waged his tantrum. The xeno didn't wait for the tub to lower itself. Once he was sure he was over the Building, he vaulted from it and fell the remaining 30 feet, landing hard as rear legs and secondary arms absorbed the sudden shock.

"We've got to go back!" he barked unnecessarily loudly at Minerva. "You can't leave them out there. You can't leave Nila out there!"

Damn fucking stupid asshole cultists and their fucking stupid asshole magic! Fuck them! Fucking worthless zombified shitfucker cultists! He galloped to the roof's edge and then threw himself into the air because - fuck it - weasels bounce!

Bounce he did intend, dropping the full ten stories before feeling his toes strike the gravel. It would have been spectacular had he not unknowingly dropped into the convoy heading out. The 'Step Van' struck him, knocking him off his feet and into the back of Marcus' truck. The driver squealed and covered her mouth with her hands, then burst into tears as she cracked open the door and slipped to the ground.

The rig was build to withstand heavy impact, and Ocho was thade. Physics would have been fatally applied had it been any other way. Dazed but not seriously wounded, Ocho rose on shaky arms as the truck came to a stop.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" the girl was frantically climbing into the truck now, bawling like a baby over the prospect of killing someone.

The collision had knocked sense into the lawyer, at least. Luckily for Myra, it had also knock out his persistent growl. He blinked at her, recoiling a bit as her hands wrapped around one of his arms in an attempt to lift him up. The notion was ludicrous, yet the good intentions behind it strangely warmed him.

"I'm alright," he fumbled through his pockets and produced a handkerchief. "Stop making that noise. You have snot all over your face."

Myra's sobs petered out into hiccups and coughs before ebbing completely. By now, Marcus had also left his vehicle and was clambering into the truck's cargo area. His eyes widened. Holy shit, the space weasel looked scary in the dark.

"Where are you going with these trucks?" Ocho cut off any apologies that could possibly come from Thaddeus' son. "We need them to transport Nila and Neste."

Now that some sensibility had been restored in his though process, he reflected that Aegis was still on the roof. Potent Luxans could provide support if they encountered Fiends along the way.

"Pull to the front of the Building. We'll need to pick up some protection," he advised before departing the truck to gaze towards the roof.

"Aegis! Hey, Luxan!" his voice thundered. "Aegis, we have transport for our team."


Marcus hopped from the truck and extended a hand to Myra so she wouldn't fall while getting out. It was only when she was on the ground that he noticed the damage to her face.

"Myra, your mouth's bleeding."

The girl tenderly pressed her fingertips to her lips, grimacing at the sudden pain. Her tongue explored her teeth and found one of the front ones missing.

"I must have face planted the steering wheel," she blotted her mouth with the snotty rag.

Marcus blew out a steady breath. "I'm surprised your face didn't cave in."

"Should it have?"

The boy snorted. The impact must have felt like hitting a brick wall. "Uh, yeah, I'm pretty sure. I guess you got lucky. Let's get moving. We'll pull around out front."

The convoy rumbled to life a few minutes later, and Ocho climbed on top of the Step Van as it pulled forward.

[The BranRiech]

"Keep those things away from my rotors!" Bran shouted, watching a tub float by.

The pilot of the lumbering airborne beast had watched with wonder as everyone outside was floated up the roof gently, his wife among them. Though in response to the nearby tubs floating upwards, the Twinblade jerked upwards and to the left, letting them pass by harmlessly. The blades produced a few sparks, as they danced cautiously together, providing precious lift to the hull.

Bran's eyes panned from the peacefulness of everyone's landing, to the inferno that now engulfed the grass, wondering if anyone was caught up in it, or how many fiends it would kill indirectly.

At the same moment, a small convoy entered Bran's field of view, several trucks/vans chugging out of the complex. "Hey, you guys need cover?" Bran asked. "In the vehicles, I cleared the way up ahead, but if you need any more, let me know." He flicked his wrist, hitting the broadcast button on the radio, before switching it off again after his message was complete. "Fuck this, I was asleep about 20 minutes ago." He mumbled to himself, slinking back further in his seat.

[Northwest Slobovia]

In and Atop the Building

[H]e tapped on the shoulder of the sorcerer, "Sandy, I got your note. The injured outside just got sent to the roof - some crazy magic shit with bath tubs and shower curtains or something. Anyways, I was thinking you could come do triage with me and help out some of the more severely wounded Residents and refugees on the roof, so we don't have to bring them down here. Plus, we could look over the surrounding area together and figure out, as Amanda mentioned, how to deal with the tactical situation. We have a breather right now, let's exploit it."

Sandy turned to Septimus slowly, a bit dazed from what he'd just witnessed, and almost unwilling to turn away from the sight of the burning tree creature. "Yes, that's about as crazy as magic comes: that's Chaos magic... very powerful Chaos magic. There's two of them out there; somebody else cast the pyroclasm. Still Chaos though."

Sandy was silent for bit, taking in what Septimus said, and becoming more aware of immediate situation around him. He shook his head. "No, not just triage on the roof; they'll be too many of them. We should send the all healers up, treat the serious cases there, and send down just the uninjured."

Septimus disagreed: "Sandy, we still have injured in the lobby. Even with the refugees helping out, they can't be carried all the way up to the roof just for treatment. If we split the teams and supplies, we run the risk of running out on one end. No, triage is all we can offer on the roof. The elevator will allow the injured to be moved back down, and the uninjured can head down the stairs."

Sandy persisted: "This end is running out: we're not going to get anybody else down here for a while, not after that firestorm. We can send up more healers as they become free. We have only the two elevators; sending people up and down will be too slow, and our communications are a mess already, just working on the first and second floors."

Septimus gave Sandy a long stare before nodding, "Alright, you know what you're doing and I'm no doctor. Just make sure everyone on the ground floor gets treated before you start sending up any significant supplies. Triage the top floor first, then send up your specialists. No sense in having them run up while there's people down here who can't afford to be moved right now."

Sandy saw Alexia on the other side of the lobby, and urgently called and waved her over. "Have you two met? Alexia, this is our Representative, Septimus Itum; Septimus, Alexia, a member Dwayna’s Vigilant, a Guild upstairs. They're skilled healers and fighters."

"Alexia, we've come up with a plan. As you doubtless saw, we've got people arriving on the roof. We're going to shift to treating patients on the roof as we finish up with ones on the lower floors... but only a gradual shift, as we're sure people down here and in the kitchen are stable. If you could please tell the other healers, I'd appreciate it. We're going to head up their now to see what the situation on the roof is."

"If we can, we should also put signs on one of the elevators that it's for medical use only: healers, medics, and patients. That'll keep it free for our use. But only if we can find a spare warm body to do it." Sandy waited to see what Alexia said, then turned back to Septimus.

"As for getting to the roof and taking a look, I can fly and take you with me. That's the fastest way up. Even including casting the spell, it's just a matter of seconds. Much faster than the elevators... oh, and there's another flight of stairs to the roof. People are going to be coming down now, and we're going to run right into them."

Sandy paused for a second, then added a final thought. "And the way I fly, I can find our friendly spellcaster very quickly. I... I've got some magic on loan from the Olympians." Sandy paused, wondering how a man from a technically advanced, star-faring society would take what he said next. "I can turn into Pegasus, the winged horse. He can sense magic like few others. Up for a little night flying?" Sandy's eyes twinkled; he could use some fun, even just a short jaunt.

"A Pegasus, eh? Sounds like quite the magic," Septimus chuckled, appraising the man with some skepticism and a polite smile before he realized that Sandy, being a sorcerer, was probably not kidding, "R-Right, a Pegasus, of course. You don't mind if I come along, then? It would be the fastest way up and it would free up the stairs, I suppose."

Sandy burst out laughing, breaking the serious mood. "Amanda thought I was crazy too. The world we come from has no known magic, and she thought I had gone quietly insane. I wonder if you'll react to the proof like she did."

With Septimus' agreement, Sandy wasted little time. He ducked back into the clinic, picked up the paper cup containing the Balm, folded the top over, and stuffed it into a pocket. He emerged with his hands full, carrying the teapot full of Ox Blood and a tube of paper cups swiped from the water cooler. "If you would, Mr. Itum. The teapot and its contents are a gift from Ogoti, a healing god. The cups are to give people doses. It's just for the casting and the ride to the roof; I can't cast the spell with my hands full."

Sandy quick-walked to the front of the building, rapidly chanting in Arabic as he did so, recasting the Spells of the Wolf on himself. As he exited the Building, Sandy added a few last comments. "I'll kneel down so you can get on and off, and I'll give you a gentle ride to the top."

Sandy quickly ran through the spell that would transform him into Pegasus, ending the ritual with it's usual arms-out flourish. Sandy briefly stood as Pegasus in all his spread-winged glory, before tucking his wings and kneeling so Septimus could get aboard. As he waited, Sandy Heard the final notes of the tree creature's enchantment fade away as it burned up -- so, it was a conjured being! -- and caught the music of ice magic above him. Sandy had already heard the chop-chop-chop of a large helicopter overhead, and he now added the sounds of heavy engines from around the side of the Building. That must be the rescue convoy moving out.

Sandy gave Septimus the promised gentle ride to the roof, making a climbing 180º turn. He studied the attack helicopter circling the building with interest, wondering if the unfamiliar markings meant that the refugees had tried to put up a fight, but only managed to get part of their airforce aloft before being overwhelmed. Merging with the stream of arriving bathtubs was no problem for Sandy, and he homed in on Tsu, the young woman with the ice bow. Sandy pointed her out with a forehoof, so Septimus would get an idea of who they were meeting, then carefully set down a comfortable distance away from her. He let Septimus off, then returned to his normal form.

Sandy addressed Tsu, "Miss? You're one of the Residents, aren't you? I'm Sandy Bela, apartment 6C. You seem to have some very strong ice magic. We'd like to talk to you about it."


Rescue Convoy
Amanda pulled in at the tail of the convoy, following them up the gravel road around the Building. She marveled at the flock of curtained bathtubs coming home to roost, and was simply astounded by the scorched grass as far as she could see. The burning tree-monster suggested several spell-casters had duked it out in front of the Building... was the tall grass enemy action, too? For a moment, she worried about Sandy: he would likely have joined the fight.

That thought was banished by Ocho falling from the roof of the Building, and Amanda slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting the step van as he bounced into it. She yanked the parking brake, cut the engine, and hopped out to take a look at Ocho. She was pleasantly surprised he wasn't turned in space weasel surprise, and started up again. Her concerns for Sandy were answered when she saw him soaring overhead, carrying somebody to the roof of the Building. She smiled at the sight: he'd been going stir-crazy waiting for an opportunity to fly. Amanda followed the convoy around the corner, then waited with the others in front of the Building as they hoped for reinforcements.

[OOC: Septimus Itum appears courtesy of the Confederation Collective Council for the Promotion of Unity and Truth]

[Torsiedelle]

"Hey, isn't that Marcus and Amanda out there?", Katya asked. She was ducking down, trying to get a better view of the chaos outside.

Torii looked back in surprise to see the small convoy outside. What the hell were they doing? She assumed going out to help the others who were caught in the grass. Speaking of, where did the shit come from? Torii felt as though she needed to help them, to at least protect her friends. She didn't want to leave Flint, though, but the woman was in good hands.

She looked at her and Mon. "Hopefully, help will be here soon. I did my best. I, uh, sorry, but I think I'm gonna take this other strip from my tanktop, just in case we get an injury out there. I'm going to go see what's going on outside again.", She said, grabbing her AK-74 again. She got up and ran back to the door. Katya stepped next to her, protesting. "Are you sure you should go out there again? What if you get hurt? I'll go, I won't mind."

Torii shook her head. "I have more experience, and they're my friends. Besides, if you get a nasty cut, it'll scar.", She joked. That made Katya stop and think.

"Anyways, see ya.", She said, before ducking out. Katya sighed. Torii was crazy.

Torii ran out onto the gravel, towards the convoy. "Hey!", She waved, "Need help? What are you guys doing? Do you know what's up with the grass?", She asked. Sure, she was nervous, what with fiends, deadly grass, and a flaming monster out there, but her friends were out there as well, and she had cover from above. She clutched her rifle close and waited for a response as she got closer; she looked like she walked out of a war movie.

[Giovenith]

"Well as you can see, quite a few of these people are in shock from the experience," Giovenith rapidly explained, wanting to enlist Nick's help but having little time to stop and casually go in-depth with him about it. "Well, everyone is, but shock is worse when you're injured, people could panic and hurt themselves more. If you really can naturally numb pain, do you think you could try to locate who among the injured seems to need it best before I get to them? Especially if they're young or elderly, I'm sure those two groups would appreciate your feline presence as well."

It was then that Giovenith began to notice that quite a few of the people in the library and currently entering were not human, some more obviously not so than others, which might have posed a problem. Although the godling was generally good at figuring out what care individuals needed, there was a good chance many of these people would have unique special needs that her expertise did not cover. Sending some magical being into a fatal allergic fit from vitamins that contained iron was the last thing they needed. Perhaps that could be one of the things Willow could search for among the right crowd, but that would have to wait a little longer.

"Does that sound good, Nick? I think other people want to approach me for answers..." she said, eyeing a Cevitaur that seemed to be heading towards her direction.

[Swith Witherward]

The ashes closest to Scel's ports curled into soft clouds in response to her labored breathing. The Fiends she hadn't had time to infect rolled over her, no longer afraid of the monster now that it was on its side. A few paused to bite at her, in turn falling to the ground as her toxins tore through them, but most of the swarm paid her no heed.

"Neste... Neste girl? There you are!"

Doctor Trilb's face loomed over the box ledge, his funny mouth dancing with laughter. Arms extended to pluck his minuscule charge from her confinement. Neste's tiny claws caught in his protective coat, and she attempted to climb higher to see the world better. Boxes were dull. Sitting in them was dull. She gained his shoulder before feeling a playful tug at her tail.

"No, no, Neste. Mustn't squirm so."

The world spun and his odd hair came into view. She grabbed at the locks, latching on to a tiny tussle and pulling his head downward as he lowered her. He was funny. He was very funny and brought food and held her when the bad dreams came. She whipped her head around, and he closed his eye moments before her snout tip gently pressed against it. The tiny construct sniffed, and warbled, and the snout slid down his cheek until her temple came to rest near his jowl. She released his hair, content to listen to the rhythm his heart made as blood coursed through the carotid arteries of his neck. All the colors of the world swirled inside her when he held her, and each morning brought the bright promise of his warm embrace.

"Dr Trilb, we haven't got all afternoon."

Neste opened an eye to view the speaker, taking an immediate dislike to him.

"I know, yes, I know. I still don't see why you need this particular parvulus when-"

"We've been over this. NST 3v1 scored well. Its drop rate is negligible."

Neste recoiled as the speaker approached. Dr. Trilb laid a hand on her head and gently stroked her muzzle. "I'm not pleased. I'm not pleased at all. I want her returned exactly as I give her to you. She's an infant, damn it, not some indestructible-"

"Enough, Doctor!"

Trilb lifted her from his chest and held her out. A hand clamped around her ankles, pinning them together, and another latched onto the soft skin just under an ear. She broke into a squall, legs uselessly pumping to break herself free. Her arms rushed forward and grasped at the air, but found purchase on nothing. The lab spun, and she was forced to look straight ahead at the doorway.

The doorway.

Always the doorway, and the yellow lights that were too warm, and the silver thing that painfully plied scales to seek out the tender nerves lining her spine. Dr Trilb shouted in protest, rebuking the stranger for treating his construct poorly, but the stranger had no reason to pay him any mind; the standard restraining procedure was necessary for safety reasons.

The doorway became a hall, and the hall eventually became another room, and the yellow lights tore at her eyes and whispered cruel things in their humming brightness. The pain wasn't far behind. The pain that bit into her and held her in its unbreakable jaws. She opened her mouth and hissed but the hiss quickly turned to agonizing screams as the process began...

"Hey, you guys need cover? In the vehicles, I cleared the way up ahead, but if you need any more, let me know."

Relief washed over Scel. Someone had arrived. They'd crane her onto a transport and take her away.

But the sound was different, and the swarm was thick. There wasn't any way her handlers could have reached her.

The exo's flat ear twitched involuntarily as she tried to fathom where the voice came from. It was a familiar voice, the accent of a man from the Building. She strained to hear him, failing to comprehend that she was still picking up his radio signal, but the sound of Fiend feet blocked out the loud thumps from his helicopter's blades. She caught a different sound, a slow and irregular drumbeat. This one came from within, she was sure of it. It shouldn't be there. It should have been dormant. Stasis was hibernation. Circulation was maintained through the exo's own systems. Neste's heartbeat-

-thrummed in her ears as she crept around the final row of incubation tanks. The explosion that had shattered the window glass had also toppled several of the vats. Their ooze coated the floor and squished between her splayed toes. She pressed on, creeping down the line until she reached the very end.

The ooze was replaced by scattered papers that made a raspy sound under her feet. Dr Trilb would never leave his lab in such disarray. Panic leeched into her chest as she carefully lifted her feet to step around broken equipment and glass shards.

The remaining tanks along the row had fallen and -

Neste's breath hitched. There, splayed upon the floor and crushed beneath the cold metallic cylinder, was her her beloved creator,.

Reptilian feet shattered test tubes and knocked aside instruments. She was at his side without any regard towards exposing herself to the security system. Hands gently smoothed his hair, seeking to find a pulse as she caressed him. His shallow breaths fogged the metal pressing against his face and his lips moved to form words that remained unspoken.

Horrified, Neste pressed her hands against the vat, pushing, and then tugging to rid its weigh from the man beneath it. Anxiety fluted from her lips once she realized the futility of it, and her claws extended to rake gouges in the metal crushing him. He was slipping away, going to that place where failed constructs went when yellow lights no longer called to them, where the furnaces were warm and the air tasted of soot.

"I'm sorry Neste."

Her motions ceased and she cocked her head to regard him.

"I had hoped to see you through your program."

His ancient hand lifted to stroke her muzzle. Neste closed her eyes, blocking out the horrible world and the vats and the glass. He was slipping too fast. Her mind reached out to his, and she cradled his consciousness, willing him to live.

She was too new, too weak to heal him.

"Be good, Neste. Do well."

His words sunk in, the last breath in his lungs pushing over tongue and lips in final parting, shocking her to the core.

Wails tore at her vocal cords as she lashed out at the tank in a final and desperate bid to free him. Her claws blunted and then bled. But he was physically no more - no heartbeat, growing cold... only his mind remained, the thoughts slowly decaying, and then the neurons cease to dance. She was alone just as dawn broke over the distant hills.

Shafts of light cascaded through dusty glass overhead, caused the broken shards on the floor to glitter in its presence. Neste lowered herself and curled next to him. Her head lifted and came to rest over the place where the heartbeats once kept time with her own body...

Scel's pilot kicked against the membrane containing her. Grief threatened to overwhelm her, as it always did when that cruel memory surfaced. It had plagued her for uncountable centuries, always present in her mind as a cruel reminder to keep the world at arm's length. She hadn't though of this memory in several years, however. It was a cyborg's simple logic, imparted one summery afternoon inside a library filled with musty books and strange diplomats, that had allowed her to explore a means of breaking free of it.

"It is not good to dwell on concepts of the spirit, when one is still in the body," he had said, "The mind wanders to dark places - places no sapient should need to explore until their terminal hours and days. I suppose we should shift the topic."

She had thanked him for reminding her to exist in the Now. How strange that something so basic could lead to introspection that would, in turn, give her the confidence to realize she was more than the sum of her parts and the etchings of her design.

There was no shifting the topic now. But these are possibly my own terminal hours, Septimus.

The knowledge saddened her. Neste wasn't a fool. Without Scel to support her life, there was little she could do but slowly drown. Her jaws parted and her diaphragm spasmed to fill her lungs with more fluid, pushing her systems to extract as much remaining oxygen as possible from it.

She couldn't see him - her contact with Scel was waning as quickly as the fluid within her cocoon cooled - and she had no way of knowing that he was even now flying on Sandy's back to survey the scorched earth that extended from the Building down to where the exo had fallen a few kilometers away. The swarm had passed, rolling on to overtake FUBAR and Nila. The Drone still stood, but Neste's sister was engaged in a similar struggle.

Neste mustered her resolve, much as her creator had over a thousand years prior, and she sought the illicit tether. It had remained intact, much to her relief. Her jaws parted and her diaphragm spasmed to fill her lungs with more fluid, pushing her systems to extract as much remaining oxygen as possible from it, but her mind fixed itself on a singular purpose as it pushed through the wash to reach him.

"I'm sorry, Septimus. Be good. Do well."

Her thoughts slipped as rudimentary systems quieted her mind.

[Monfrox]

Brit wiped her forehead after her compressions had succeeded. The man was breathing, despite having a broken rib or two now.

"Okay, keep an eye on him while I go get a stretcher. Anyone else who's injured should be brought towards the Library entrance. We'll take it from there."

With that, she took like the wind and headed out, grabbing Kelly along the way. She burst into the clinic to see Sandy gone. Where'd he go? Brit didn't dwell on it too much, as Sandy knew his shit. She looked over to Gretta and the woman who had her legs shredded. She almost hurled, but didn't let the woman see. She took the folding stretcher out of the locker and went.

"Good work, Gretta. Just make sure to keep them calm."

With that, they were out and back with the resuscitated man and put him on a bed. She and Kelly ferried a lot of the critically injured in after the triage had tended to them. Brit then let Kelly go back and went on to grab a few more drinks. She set them out along the table with a post-it that said "take one" next to it. She took one and went to the lobby, and then back to check in the library again to see who all needed to be tended to. Kwa'a charge was nearby and some were hailing her over there.

"Shit, what happened?"

"We think she's exhausted."

Brit sat her up and cracked the redbull for her.

"Hey, look at me. You okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

[Swith Witherward]

Masquiel's bell heralded the arrival of children, most no older than eight. The old hag ushered them into the library, and the young ones already within flocked to her side. The prospect of a song or perhaps a story bolstered their spirits as they moved towards her. Here was something familiar they could take comfort in.

"Gather 'round," she wheezed as she lowered herself into a chair. "Gather, children."

Several adults gathered as well. They, too, had been in her custody once upon a time. The children settled upon the floor in front of Masquiel, eager faces looking to her own.

"Next week is the Autumn Festival," she crooned as she pulled a book from her pocket. She opened it to reveal blank pages to the children. An excited murmur rippled through them.

It was as though an invisible artist had begun to paint upon the pages. A green line formed at the bottom, followed by trees sprouting and thrusting branched towards the pages' tops. Leaves emerged from tiny buds, each a cheerful shade of green that subtly shifted until the pages became awash with shades of orange, red and yellow. The children clapped their hands, and one of the smallest lifted her voice to sweetly begin one of their favorite seasonal songs as the book in the hag's hands summoned up matching imagery.

"They're coming down in showers,
The leaves all gold and red;
They're covering the little flowers,
And tucking them in bed..."


Someone near the library entrance pointed directly at Giovenith. Ayla strode forward, following that direction until she was within speaking range of the godling. Cervitaurs knew from experience that people were often intimidated by their species. It wouldn't be right to frighten Giovenith.

"Hello Giovenith," she smiled at the young woman. "Representative Itum said you might need a little help in here. I am Ayla Mercer, the North Warnborough Mayor. These are my villagers."


"They've spread a fairy carpet
All up and down the street;
And when we skip along to school,
they rustle 'neath our feet."

The song came to an end, and the children quieted to hear the distinctive noise of crunching leaves. They didn't have to wait long, and laughed to each other as the sound rose up from the book.



Minerva peered into the night, aided by Purna's innate abilities. The moon cast light over what had once been lush fields filled with sheep. Ouch, they'd need to replace those! The scorched earth rolled ever onward, separated here and there by the stone walls that had once designated property lines.

The gravel drive leading from the Building was clearly visible, a white pathway lined by dark ground. She followed it's course until her eyes alighted on FUBAR's distinctive outline. One of the exos was on the ground beside him.

Her gaze continued down the gravel road until reaching the swarm heading towards her downed companions. They had escaped both grass and flames, undoubtedly further away than the spell's properties could reach. It traveled quickly, rolling along like black foam in a dark tide. Beyond the line rested the other exo, and it didn't appear to be moving.

She lifted her eyes and spotted what could only be a village in the distance. The doors and windows were shuttered. Fiends swarmed here as well although, by the looks of it, they didn't have any targets.

To the far west sat a larger city, this one sporting electricity and only clearly visible to those on the roof with enhanced vision. Skyscrapers rose from its base, their lights glittering in the night air. Vehicles traveled its roads, ferrying its inhabitants to their destinations. Had these people no idea about the horror in their own backyard? It seemed the Fiends were either reluctant to go there, or else kept at bay by something unseen.

A match flared to life and Minerva touched its flame to the cigarette propped between her teeth and lips.

[Highfort]

Dismounting Sandy with shaky legs, Septimus let out a breath he didn't know he'd held. The teapot of Ox Blood and the paper cups rattled in his hands as he found his footing on the roof and found it oddly absent of bath tubs. Catching one of them floating away, propelled by their shower curtain sails, he offered a smile at the quaint little thing and shook his head. He never would understand the idiosyncrasies of this dimension. Perhaps they were not meant to be understood.

Following Sandy's lead, Septimus turned to Tsu, "You've got a good vantage point but, as Sandy mentioned, ice magic is what we're interested in. Amanda suggested that the Building could benefit from reinforcements in the form of ice blocks, palisades, and walls."

Pausing, Septimus turned back to take in the view of the roof. Frantically, cultists and refugees alike ran around tending to the sick and dying, all maimed by Fiends and torn and sliced by the weeds now torched to oblivion. Speaking of the torching...

Peering over the edge of the roof, the night broken by the powerful floodlights atop the Building, the representative found to his disgust that destroying the overgrown weeds had come at a heavy price. The land now resembled Garav-III after the scorched earth campaign that the local populace had unsuccessfully committed to in order to halt the Confederation's advance. Beyond the immediate front yard, he could see the distinctive outline of the four-legged FUBAR in the distance, next to a hulking image that could only be a downed exo.

His head pounded as he observed the darkness that was the mass of Fiends rolling toward the Building like the unrepentant tide of the sea. But it was not their presence that left him speechless and deflated the air from his lungs.

He saw the second exo and he realized something. The tether at the back of his brain was working, though quiet and strained. He felt a gentle caress and attempted to grasp back, to communicate how he felt even as he knew that the woman on the other end of the line - the construct who had brought him out of the shadows and into the light - was fading away.

"I'm sorry, Septimus. Be good. Do well."

No, not her. Anyone but her. The world - hell, the fucking universe and all its damned dimensions - but not her.

"That's... That's..." he swallowed hard, turning back to the denizens on the roof before running over to Minerva, the representative of Slaanesh having a cigarette to calm her nerves as she surveyed the landscape, "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."

More specifically, her. If they lost her... He was going to kill whoever deployed those godforsaken plants. Wasting his goddamn time, diverting resources from executing a proper rescue.

The hands gripping the teapot and the cups tightened and his knuckles went white.

If he lost her... He wasn't so sure about what he would do. All he felt was a tensing in his chest and he realized then and there that if she was gone, he would have to leave. He could not be around these people any longer - either they would be the death of him or, if he was lucky, perhaps, he would be the death of them.

He couldn't wait for a response, though he kept Minerva within earshot. He had to keep moving or he was going to lose his calm and if that happened, Demens help whoever was next to him. He may not have had his augmentations from his old body, but he hadn't forgotten how much it hurts to be punched or thrown off the roof of a ten story Building.

"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."

[Giovenith]

"Oh!" Giovenith clutched Nick a little tighter, petting his head as she turned to meet the creature person who had approached her. The mayor was not alone (kiddies!), the godling noticed, but Giovenith was hardly disturbed by odd-looking people. She gave a winning smile, "Yes, yes yes! We've been waiting for someone like you to show up. Welcome! I am indeed Giovenith, oh, and this is Nick..."

She held up the cat slightly, not wanting to be rude and ignore his presence.

"We're two of the helpers here in the Building," she explained. "We were just now trying to get organized for the first aid, as we've tried to locate toward the left..." The godling gestured. "... it was starting to feel overwhelming, but now that you're here, I'm sure things will run much more efficiently. I know the basics of medics, but I couldn't hope to guess at any of the possible special needs of your citizens."


Meanwhile, Willow had been flying this way and that trying to prompt small exchanges, learning a bit of this and that, and passing on important reassurance as had been requested of him. However, as scared as many of the people here were, they did not seem to be any blind panic... which was good. They trusted them, enough. He supposed they couldn't NOT what with the miraculous shelter that had quite literally fallen out of the sky just when they needed it most.

Continuing to inspect from above, he really couldn't ignore the sudden influx of children in the library. It was most endearing and concerning. They seemed to be under control now, but the presence of kids meant higher maintenance and attention to security, not to mention the possible ruckus. They were being read to when he flew above, and not wanting to disturb the sight, descended only during the break in the piece.

"Hello," Willow smiled an approachable smile, hovering a respectable but still manageable distance from the strange elderly woman. It was no terror, this world was full of the bizarre for him. "I'm one of the patrons of this safe place, is there anything I can help any of you all with, anything at all? Questions and concerns are welcomed."

[Mincaldenteans]

The battle had invigorated his Klingon spirit, his blood burned with each fallen and his muscles ached with exquisite stings, and his joints pierced him in strain with every swipe of his mek’leth against the fiends; the bat’leth having long been discarded during battle in favor of the slender short sword. His armor was painted with the blood of his enemies and more than a few puncture holes and cuts had spilled his own, liberally adding itself to the mix. It hardly stopped the warrior, minor wounds (minor to Mezran’s point of view anyway) were scars that would be stories in the making, meant to be told over food and drink ...or in halls of Sto-Vo-Kor, among the honored fallen. Either way, Mezran was ready for whatever fate had in store.

But when the grass grew, shooting itself wildly, lacerating friend and foe alike, and a behemoth of earthly construct suddenly appeared, the Klingon’s grin only grew wider as he stood in defiance, ready to face an unstoppable enemy. Much he had seen in battle: Jem’Hadar and their Cardassian lackies, possessed mutant Tribble filth and rampaging Daemons... but this, this was altogether unique as it towered over everything. The captain knew he stood no chance in the coming fight, but Klingons didn’t cower away. Fire suddenly washed the field and before Mezran could dispatch fiends in his way, a tarnished looking porcelain sink scooped him from his position and lifted him into the air.

His translator having been damaged sometime during the battle, Mezran lean forward in the ascending bath tub, shaking his mek’leth fist at the fiends and giant. His voice boomed with every word as the distance grew, “SoHvaD nojtaHghach Ha'DIbaH lutmeyvam Dalegh Qav jIHvaD! Qo' patlhwIj Hegh! ghu'vam Hop vo' rIn!”

Mezran hadn’t noticed Tavana had been likewise scooped up and sitting in the bathtub enjoying a moment’s reprieve from the battle. The filth were endless it seemed and catching a breath was a welcome before facing the horde once more. She rolled her eyes at Mezran, who continued his rant with choice words that even his universal translator would have censored. Reaching out, she stopped his shaking fist and pulled the oaf back before the tub dipped forward, sending them both to a most unremarkable death and curse them to an embarrassing afterlife. Tavana had been by his side since the translator became damaged and she was in no mood for his griping at stolen glory.

“Sit down, fool, you’ll kill us both!” She shouted at him as her grip sent him back, nearly toppling over her. Tavana huffed, “Typical. It’s a wonder how you survived this long.”

“We are retreating!” He exclaimed, spittle painting his whiskers and jagged teeth gleaming in the night, “What honorless dog cheats us out of battle! We do not retreat in the face of the adversary for any reason!”

Tavana could only reply with a deep sly and resist the urge to smack him. “We’re not retreating, we’re advancing in a different direction! Look below, the enemy burns!”

“Bah! We should be down there!”
No sooner had he said that, the tub deposited them onto the roof of the building. Many were wounded, including the guild warriors that had fought by the Klingons’ side.

"We've got to go back!" Mez turned to see some hideous looking alien shout and jumped off the building.

“lugh qech ghaj” Mezran muttered, glowering at Tavana who simply ignored his complaint.

"People, if you are not injured, please go stand next to that large building on the right. That's a hangar. We need you out of the way so we can gather the wounded. We'll alert people in the lobby that they're needed here. Listen to Aegis. If you can defend, take the stairs down. I'll ask that only the powerful go back out to search for the missing people. Don't take unnecessary risks! We don't have the resources to come get you!"

Tavana had managed to listen in, stopping Mezran from his muttered cursing as she strained to hear amid the many other voices that muffled the directive. The quieted for a moment, only to rise again as soon as the woman was done.

Reyna appeared by Tavana’s side, with Erick next to warrior woman. The two of them looked fatigued, but determination was etched in their faces. Erick looked tired, his scythe was firmly gripped in his hands, but it was as though his simple robes and weapon shared the image of a worn down warrior. His eyes remained cool, his face stoic as he gave a polite nod to the Klingons in greeting. Reyna sported an array of tiny cuts, bruises and shallow wounds; it didn’t seem to bother her. She ignored her tired muscles, the stinging aches and pains, and her eyes glazed with that of warrior that would only submit to death itself. She griped her shield and sword tighter.

“We defend the building. Are you with us?” Reyna asked.

Mezran narrowed his dark eyes upon her, though his guarded annoyance wasn’t upon the warrior woman, but for the translator that no longer worked. Tavana translated.

“HIja'! p'taq 'etlh Sov pu wa'logh vI'Iprup!” Mezran said, thrusting his sword arm into the air, a faint smile upon his lips.

Tavana smirked and turned to face the guildmates, “Of course.”

And the four went back down the stairs.

--//\\--

The fae had lost herself in the call of violence and death. Violence, Mab had long believed, was a precision weapon, not a club to swing about wildly. Anyone could do that. No, this was an artform on its own. Why expend unnecessary energy when economic movements with equally theatrical results gave the greatest yields; for every fallen fiend a wider grin spread across the Queen’s face. She wondered if anyone else could feel such joy in “letting loose”. Mab didn’t get such opportunities often and the fae grudgingly realized why - too easy to continue this to the end of days. Violence, for all its purposes, was still mindless.

Something must have read her thoughts, or perhaps chose that moment to interrupt her dance at the edge of unrelenting fury, had scooped her from the battlefield in a bathtub. It was a ridiculous notion and the fae could only laugh in the face of such random happenence.

The tub tilted gently to the left, letting the fae land on her feet as she fussed with her crumpled pants. The black renegade outfit nearly matched the night, glimmering in shades of purple and blue. She flicked her hair to one side, listening on to the directive of Minerva that got everyone’s attention. Someone had already taken offense to being sent up, apparently more than one, as a strange looking… thing… jumped off the building. Mab smiled at the of Minerva’s directive, the Queen was far from done with the night: it was still young and there were things out there for the slaughter to sate the hunger within her, fed and content as it might be now.

“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.

--//\\--

The spell was a weaker version of a stronger spell she preferred to use, but it would do for the time being as the man looked to be adequately stabilized from the gash across his abdomen. Already the exposed tissues were mending in beads of blue and white energy joining the torn ends together and sealing the torn skin in the energy halo. Satisfied, she nodded to the woman by his side, picking up her wand and moving to the next patient. While Ogoti’s touch had revitalized the energy within her to carry on, the monk was being more circumspect with how potent her healing spells needed to be. She didn’t have a retinue of spirits and ancestors to call upon like Anais, her powers were solely dependent on her fortitude and energy to carry on. She didn’t experience exhaustion like the elementalist, or risked her life force like Anais, but once she was sapped of strength, not even the weakest healing spell would do make a difference.

Sandy had waved her over, catching the Monk’s attention. She apologized to the patient, letting her know she would be back quickly and quickly waded through the crowd to meet the sorcerer and Sep. She nodded to the two and Sandy didn’t miss a beat, "Alexia, we've come up with a plan. As you doubtless saw, we've got people arriving on the roof. We're going to shift to treating patients on the roof as we finish up with ones on the lower floors... but only a gradual shift, as we're sure people down here and in the kitchen are stable. If you could please tell the other healers, I'd appreciate it. We're going to head up there now to see what the situation on the roof is."

“Of course, I’ll have word spread. Anais would be better with lending a hand with a large group, her abilities are adept to handling such numbers.” The monk looked around, seeing a large reptile, the summer fae, a young woman, along with a few others she recognized as residents tending to wounded here. The petite woman looked back up to the two of them, “I will send for Anais behind you, if you’ll excuse me…”

Alexia moved away, weaving through and into the dining room where Anais had finished a ritual, a non-corporeal spirit forming up from the floors anchored by some unknown energy from the ether. “Anais, Sandy and Septimus are headed for the roof. We have more wounded and your skills are best suited for larger crowds. I will send for someone else to cover this area,”

The ritualist nodded in response, Alexia returning the same acknowledgement to spread word of the development happening on the roof to the other medical teammates. Anais took a deep breath, letting her powers scan for the spirit of rejuvenation she had summoned, to make sure it was properly summoned and would last the amount of time she had beckoned her ancestors for. Someone grabbed her hand and Anais looked up, only to look down to scared boy shaking his head. Anais knelt down, “It will be fine. We’ll help you find your mother and father after this. Stay close to the others, and should you move from this room, I will find you.”

“Promise?” Came the vulnerable question.

“Upon my power,” Anais said, planting a comforting kiss upon the messy-haired child before whirling away with staff in tow for the roof.

[Primordial Luxa]

Aegis shuddered as he heard Naomi’s young serene voice coil out of the shadows like it was the sudden hiss of some animal and he slowly turned to look down at her holding his hand. He was quite for a moment before nodding and swallowing a lump in his throat. “Naomi…its good to see you again it has been quite a long time. I would make ideal prattle but unfortunately now is not the time for such luxuries. But come if you feel you are strong and resolved enough to help retrieve the others.”

With that he made his way quickly down to the ground and joined Ocho and the others in the convoy. He made a quick stop along the way to grab some items from the DEiMOS such as a Yuggothian Electrical gun which he knew would be helpful if the fiends where still in such large numbers. Along with that he got another thick military cloak for added protection and a medical case filled with ReAnima in case any of their numbers fell.

“Greetings Ocho, smart moving grabbing this truck. Who is in the other ones?”

---

Having sanctified the front door against further fiend intrusions Primordial allowed himself a moment to relax taking a seat down in the lobby and watching the door for any further attempted entrance. He was sure about the abilities of his wards but he was concerned about what else was around them. They had no real knowledge of their locality and for all they were aware it might be a universe on the verge of a sudden collapse dreamed up as a sudden prison for all of them. It was also possibly filled with nascent dangers which could manifest if they didn’t take proactive action something which further disturbed him.

So he departed leaving the front door to the very capable hands of the folkish guardians who had most likely come in with the villagers or been summoned by one of the powerful denizens of the apartment. It was hard to tell what exactly had transpired in all the confusion. He journeyed up to the third floor and reentered the DEiMOS’s baroquely decorated Victorian interior and set about scanning the surrounding area for celestial phenomena, traces of alien sciences and other odd occurrences.

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

Dismounting Sandy with shaky legs, Septimus let out a breath he didn't know he'd held. The teapot of Ox Blood and the paper cups rattled in his hands as he found his footing on the roof and found it oddly absent of bath tubs. Catching one of them floating away, propelled by their shower curtain sails, he offered a smile at the quaint little thing and shook his head. He never would understand the idiosyncrasies of this dimension. Perhaps they were not meant to be understood.

Following Sandy's lead, Septimus turned to Tsu, "You've got a good vantage point but, as Sandy mentioned, ice magic is what we're interested in. Amanda suggested that the Building could benefit from reinforcements in the form of ice blocks, palisades, and walls."

Pausing, Septimus turned back to take in the view of the roof. Frantically, cultists and refugees alike ran around tending to the sick and dying, all maimed by Fiends and torn and sliced by the weeds now torched to oblivion. Speaking of the torching...

Peering over the edge of the roof, the night broken by the powerful floodlights atop the Building, the representative found to his disgust that destroying the overgrown weeds had come at a heavy price. The land now resembled Garav-III after the scorched earth campaign that the local populace had unsuccessfully committed to in order to halt the Confederation's advance. Beyond the immediate front yard, he could see the distinctive outline of the four-legged FUBAR in the distance, next to a hulking image that could only be a downed exo.

His head pounded as he observed the darkness that was the mass of Fiends rolling toward the Building like the unrepentant tide of the sea. But it was not their presence that left him speechless and deflated the air from his lungs.

He saw the second exo and he realized something. The tether at the back of his brain was working, though quiet and strained. He felt a gentle caress and attempted to grasp back, to communicate how he felt even as he knew that the woman on the other end of the line - the construct who had brought him out of the shadows and into the light - was fading away.

"I'm sorry, Septimus. Be good. Do well."

No, not her. Anyone but her. The world - hell, the fucking universe and all its damned dimensions - but not her.

"That's... That's..." he swallowed hard, turning back to the denizens on the roof before running over to Minerva, the representative of Slaanesh having a cigarette to calm her nerves as she surveyed the landscape, "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."

More specifically, her. If they lost her... He was going to kill whoever deployed those godforsaken plants. Wasting his goddamn time, diverting resources from executing a proper rescue.

The hands gripping the teapot and the cups tightened and his knuckles went white.

If he lost her... He wasn't so sure about what he would do. All he felt was a tensing in his chest and he realized then and there that if she was gone, he would have to leave. He could not be around these people any longer - either they would be the death of him or, if he was lucky, perhaps, he would be the death of them.

He couldn't wait for a response, though he kept Minerva within earshot. He had to keep moving or he was going to lose his calm and if that happened, Demens help whoever was next to him. He may not have had his augmentations from his old body, but he hadn't forgotten how much it hurts to be punched or thrown off the roof of a ten story Building.

"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."

“Ice Wall? With spikes and all that? Okay...let’s see what i can do..” Tsu turned towards the ground, she pointed a finger out and closed her eyes, and created a frozen patch, that slowly expanded around the building, it stopped at a certain point, a access part for the trucks and slowly ice rose. 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.

Tsu’s wall of ice finally ended its growth, it stood, like a glacier, still and silent. Cold mist dropped from it, to give it a nice erie feeling. Tsu opened her eyes and smiled, she held back a bundle of cheer before smiling. “Yes! I made a Great wall of....Iceina?”

[Fvaarniimar]

Rmwtyliin groaned. "What happened?" Accepting the Red Bull, she winced at the, well, red bull. Normally she wouldn't drink something marked with the hue, but... This girl seemed to be some sort of healer. Not the supernatural kind -

Oh good Esine. "Did...Wren come back with someone?" It did not appear as though she had. The bandage was there still, and bloody. Red. So much red...Dizzy...

"I feel dizzy. My head hurts."

--

Nick wanted to greet Ayla, as he had been introduced, but interrupting was rude; he settled for waving his left forepaw in an exaggerated fashion prior to jumping down and heading for a boy clutching his chest and moaning. Young or old... Cats were kind of comforting, at least in books. He thought that might be what Giovenith had meant by that; it sounded like her.

Given that, he gave the kid a quick nuzzle before setting to work. He focused; his eyes closed partway, as though he were sleepy. Actually, he was. He started slipping towards sleep. He pulled himself back, eyes opening. He didn't want the kid feeling pain; he focused on what that sort of sentiment had been triggering. There. Another nuzzle, and he moved on...

[The BranRiech]

"Anyone? Hello?" Bran asked.

His ears received nothing but the lonesome hiss and crackle of static, prompting a few channel-switches, finding that no one was responding in any valuable way. He was cut off from the ground. A minor inconvenience, but certainly not the end of the world. Attack-choppers usually operated over a battlefield with carte-blanche in these sorts of situations, doing whatever they saw fit to ensure success.

He figured the earlier request for support was for the vehicles, beginning their trek from the apartment to pick up wounded. Bran knew not what the purpose was, but knew enough to figure that they were the most vulnerable.

The building could properly defend itself, with all the men and women available, so Bran was no longer needed in a defensive capacity.

"Anyone listening? I'm headed with the vehicles." His neck craned down to speak into the mic, as he gave the rotors a little more 'gas' and pointed the nose down slightly. The twinblade gently started slicing through the air. It's slow pace seemed to match the vehicles on the ground quite well, letting both of them stick together.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

Neil made his way back to the Manor and threw open the clinic doors to find a trashed lab from the move. He took a quick shower in med-gel to close up his wounds from the grass. Thinking back to all the wounded he took time to filled a cart with more supplies for the healers, everything from bandages to antibiotics. He then swung open the armory doors and grabbed Gretta's signature Flamesaw (that's a flamethrower with a chainsaw bayonet), he knew she wouldn't mind him borrowing it for a bit. With a tap on the fuel gauge and a headset radio pulled from the shelf along with a bandolier of 5 incendiary grenades, he was almost ready to go back out and fight. He passed the private kitchen and mixed a concoction of coffee, coca tea, and a slightly irradiated energy drink with sugar. Downing it, he felt a rush of energy that he hoped would carry him till the end of this whatever it was.

---

"Brit said you needed a hand and now I'm here." Gretta said as Sandy got distracted and left. She could smell the familiar pleasant smell of smoke in the distance. "Well now, value the fact you survived that, feet can be replaced." Gretta said to the patient after Brit checked in. She began to tend to the other patients in the clinic. Neil came in and dropped off half of the medical supplies he had brung, leaving the other half in the dining room. She took notice that her husband had taken her Flamesaw. "It better not have a scratch on it when you get back." She warned against destroying her prized weapon. "Wouldn't dream of it my love." Neil replied trying to quiet her concerns as he left her to tend to the patients.

Neil ran out past the new ice defence through the one gap as he slipped the radio headset on his head and set it to scan. Though encumbered he still had good speed at about 47 mph and he moved to follow the vehicles.

Catching Bran's signal, he replied, "This is Neil, I got ya. I'll try to keep up on the ground to burn those rats out."