Demens Chosen IC [CLOSED]

[Giovenith]

It took Willow a second to realize that it wasn't Rache's human form that was greeting him, but the fabled Hans, whom he didn't actually know. He was apparently back in control of his own body and not suffering from the crippling episode that had forced Rache to puppet him in the first place. Willow wasn't sure how the whole daemon-human-host thing was supposed to work in the first place, but he assumed this was a good thing.

"Hello, Hans," the pony greeted with a polite smile. "Good to see you're feeling better."

Rache returned, apparently escaped from the broom beating. Willow was about to greet him and asked how his punishment had gone when the daemonpony began to flip out at Sallow, who responded by flying behind his flesh clone and gripping him tight like a protector.

"I'm innocent!" Sallow squealed, squeezing Willow tighter. "Don't be so frosted, man! It's not my fault I have such a classy chassis!"

"Alright, alright you two," Willow pried the paper-pony off of him. "Sit down and eat first, grievances later."

And so they did. Plates were passed out and muscles unwound, and a mental clock kept in check for when they all needed to return to duty. Until then, it was finally time for the first time in a long time to just sit and relax.

"Now," Willow announced, unfolding a napkin to spread it out. "One thing at a time. Sterling..."

He pointed to the purple unicorn.

"... it's okay. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for snapping at you, I was just surprised. This is Rache..."

He pointed to the grey pegasus dressed in a custom Nazi uniform.

"... he's a daemon that works for Mr. Klaus. We had a little, uh, adventure together recently, and I guess he's just decided that being a pony suits himself more than a human form. Rache, this is Sterling, my friend from Equestria, we first came to the Building together and he had to leave for a while, but now he's back. And this..."

He pointed to the paper greaser pegasus.

"... is, um, Sallow Slashes." Willow cringed a bit at the name. "He's made out of magically reinforced paper mache and was apparently created to tend to my responsibilities while we were gone. He says he's just one of many paper clones."

"I'm not a thing," Sallow piped in, leaning quickly out from behind Willow before jolting back in.

Willow turned to him. "What?"

Sallow popped back out with a bitter frown and pointed at Rache. "He called me a thing, I am not a thing. I am a pony."

"Oh, well..."

[Reventus Koth]

It wasn't too long before Zan Kraken found himself in the company of a stranger once again. It's not like he wasn't expecting it, he left the door open for a reason. At least he thought he did...maybe he earnestly forgot. His mind was racing so fast he was already forgetting what he had done not two minutes ago. Maybe that was part of the hallucination? Yeah, definitely; it's probably also the reason he was able to clearly understand everyone that spoke to-

"You're a long way from Mon Cala," Minvera mercifully interrupted.

He let the words sink in for a minute. Of course he was a long way from home, his homeworld hadn't seen peace and freedom for years. The only ones of his kind left there were Empire slaves, no doubt coldly awaiting the day they could break their chains. It almost made him a bit angry to hear. As if he needed to be any farther from home! What would she know about-

"Most of us are a long way from home," she sighed. "Everything we know is gone, save what we find in our apartment."

Zan finally turned and focused both eyes directly at Minerva. So this happens to everyone, huh? Like a bad case of the runs, or getting your package damaged in the mail. He let her words repeat over and over again in his head: everything we know is gone. She must have seen his eyes go wide, because she quickly corrected herself.

The dimension we left? Seriously? Any hope of this just being some extremely elaborate interstellar kidnapping was quickly being dashed, but he still wasn't sure if an inter-dimensional kidnapping was better or worse. His eyes narrowed when she finished her statement. "Our purpose is to keep places like your old home safe. That's why we were chosen."

"Chosen? Chosen for what? You keep saying this, like it's some...big honor or something! I didn't need to be stolen in my sleep, taken to another fucking dimension to protect my home, I was already working on that! I was about to put the finishing touches on a plan to liberate an entire planet from Empire rule! What the fuck could be so thrice damned important that you had to take me away from there?!"

Zan pounded his fist onto the bed, which gave an unimpressive thump. He couldn't think straight and he already didn't remember what he just said. He peeled his eyes away from Minerva and looked down in shame. He hated losing his temper, and now more than ever he was sure that he was fully in control of his actions. Only he could be such a monumental douche to the one person trying to help him figure out the situation he was in. She even offered him food, which he had barely noticed in his outrage.

"Just tell me why..."

[Northwest Slobovia]

RotLB

Deisitheos merely gave Nick a bemused look when he leapt aboard the carriage just before it pulled away; apparently, he'd gotten used to the odd behaviors of the city's cats. The carriage ride down from the acropolis was just as fast as before, and filled with Sandy and Deisistheos discussing the Library. Sandy was stunned – left with his mouth hanging open – to hear that the Library contained over 800,000 books, and the Library of the Living contained nearly 50,000 living and preserved specimens. The former far exceeded historians' estimates, and the latter was simply lost in Sandy's day.

Sandy did manage to cobble together a couple of excuses for why he knew nothing of Poseidon's cult rituals: Edessa was an inland city, in general, and few people dedicated horses to him, in specific. Sandy had decided that making that offering was the best way to avoid too many questions about his ignorance, and in any case, all but guaranteed he'd get a good look at the cult's public practices. Despite temptation, Sandy left the holocam off until he left the carriage at the temple of Poseidon, starting it as his feet hit the ground.

The initial meeting with the priests of Poseidon went well enough, though Sandy wished Deisitheos hadn't mentioned the fictional shipwreck, as Sandy didn't want to be interacting with the Olympians under false pretences. Sandy did quickly amend Deisitheos' suggestion of a penance offering: “I'd rather offer the Horse Tender something for better sea voyages in the future.” If the priests thought the sudden change was unusual, they said nothing, and merely nodded. They did point out a couple of places where Sandy might buy a horse, though they mentioned that horses were rare and expensive in Lower Egypt, having been imported from elsewhere.


Main Market

The city's main market wasn't far away, and there Sandy bargained away the team's last gem, a large amethyst. He tried to apply the little he'd learned over the past couple of days, but was hampered by the stone's hugeness for the period: even the cagiest of buyers had difficulty concealing their amazement at it. Sandy did manage to sell it after several attempts, even walking away from offers he felt were too low.

He ended up with a small fortune – several staters of mixed gold and silver coinage – prompting the wide-eyed Deisitheos to dispatch the carriage back to the Library to pick up some guards for his nouveau tres riche visitor, adding that while his own spells would make short work of a robber, that wasn't obvious to normal people, nor did he have suitable magic to protect Sandy. Sandy merely grunted in reply and cast the Ears of the Wolf and Adonis' Boon on himself. He also suggested to Nick that he keep an eye out for unfriendlies when he could.

”Trying,” jabbered the wide eyed feline. “There's so many other interesting things to notice!”

Sandy wandered the market apparently at random, picking up the sorts of things he thought a wealthy traveler should have: another silk chiton – white bordered by a pair of wide, dark red stripes, each with a narrow cloth of gold stripe down the middle – a couple more money pouches, an ivory comb, some perfumed soap, writing materials, more of what the locals called the Balm of Gilead but which he called raw materials, and other toiletries and small household effects.

He eagerly examined his change, and from time to time, asked shopkeepers for other coins. ”Most of them are what I'd expect from the Mediterranean: local, Roman, Rhodian, Syrian, but one of these denarii is Bactrian, and I simply don't recognize the writing or designs on many of them. Some are doubtless from Indian states, others may be from further east or possibly even further south. Mementos, at least, and if I can get the metal content analyzed, I might even be able to say something about the extent of the monsoon trade routes now.”

Nick asked about souvenirs, and not only did Sandy offer him duplicates of the coins – all he wanted was to sample them first – he bought Nick a set of what the shopkeepers claimed were spells the Egyptian gods could deliver on. Sandy couldn't read the Demotic script, and Deisitheos doubted they were anything other than prayers. “Their gods seem like ours: they answer prayers when it suits them. If these incantations worked magic, we'd have known about it centuries ago.”

A pair of guards arrived while Sandy was shopping, skirmishers by the look of them: they carried small hide shields, padded caps, small swords, and a bundle of javelins in oversized quivers. Sandy gave them an appreciative nod and smile. “You'll more than do. Few criminals would attack soldiers.”


Horses for Courses

The last part of shopping was buying horses. Sandy wasn't quite sure what he wanted, but he decided that anything dedicated to a god should be as flawless as he could get it. The only problem is that nearly all he knew about horses consisted of being one, part time... and impressively large, flying, and supernatural. The perfect qualifications for picking winners, he thought sourly.

After watching Sandy's feeble attempts, Deisitheos whispered a suggestion to Sandy: ask the cult of Poseidon what they thought would do. Sandy had no doubt this would get him fine horses, and also had no doubt that the sellers knowing their use would double their price. He reluctantly agreed, the carriage driver raced off again, and soon returned bearing four priests and two other cultists.

The priests did have an excellent sense of what horses were appropriate 'to send to Elysium', an expression that caused Sandy's heart to leap. They choose a pair of nearly matched black Sicilian horses, a stallion and a mare. The asking price was as exorbitant as Sandy feared, and he was barely able to get the horse trader to budge an obol.

After watching Sandy struggle for a while, one of the lower-ranking cultists pointed out that the city was dependent on waterborne trade, and it would be unfortunate if that were to be disrupted, for example, by an unhappy god. The seller dismissed the implied threat with a snort, but passers-by heard the exchange, and one suggested that given the rarity of true devotion in this modern age, the horse trader should soften his position. When a crowd started to gather to argue the merits of the price and the offering, the horse trader lowered the price enough for Sandy to buy, though the horses did cost far more than he thought they should.

Sandy and the highest-ranking priest of Poseidon led a procession back to the temple: the two of them, followed by the rest of the cultists, the lower-ranking ones each leading a horse. They were followed by Deisitheos riding in the carriage, while Nick sat opposite him and scrutinized his coins under cover of batting them around. The guards flanked Sandy and the priest, walking a respectful distance away from each.

Along the way, the priest outlined the dedication ritual. Sandy would formally offer the horses to Poseidon, using a specific formulaic prayer and series of actions. The priests would accept the horses with an equally precise prayer, and then the cult would lead the horses around the temple under the peristyle, before the high priest would take them into the naos to show them to their god. “Unless something very unexpected happens, we will then bring the horses back outside, and you will help us lead them into the sea.” Sandy nodded uncertainly, so the priest added, “It will become clear at the time, and you will see why we need no altar for dedications.”

The group paused in front of Poseidon’s temple, and the priests who’d gone to the market spoke to the rest of the cult. With their sensitive hearing, both Nick and Sandy could make out their whispered words easily: they were telling those who stayed at the temple of Sandy’s offering. The lower initiates were sent off to gather the rest of the cult, and the high priest came down to talk to Sandy and examine the horses. He introduced himself as Nyktimos, and pronounced the horses of excellent quality before climbing back up the stairs to temple.

[OOC: Collab with Fvaar]

[Tiltjuice]

Chrys strode back up the stairs, breadstick-with-two-chunks-missing still in hand. She had promised to join in at Brit's dinner; but the evacuation was still ongoing, and something beyond her ken called to her, tugged her to go back into the Building. The sensation wasn't strange to her; close to two millennia of service to Fate had presented her with many such summons. Some more subtle than others; but always feeling moved along by an invisible, inaudible impetus.

She dodged the waterbear and the disco-tortoise making a beeline for the picnic, and began almost literally hopping up the stairs two at a time as a few Residents passed her on the left. Guildies mostly; though Wren, Colonel Fluffy and Hectaros brought up the rear of the group, sandwiching Kale and Blythe in between them. The seventh floor was probably all clear, then; just in case, she started off on that floor, to check on the one who'd once brought her to her knees with a casual wave of his hand.

"Primordial?" she called out, rapping on the door of the Luxan embassy, and then a scattered few words of a conversation with her Sister came back to her. The Luxan was out, on an adventure through her old homeland.

She felt wistful for a moment, and her eyes whitened again as she knelt before the door. Taking Mirare, still sheathed, off her back, she touched the hilt to the doorknob once, and the tugging sensation disappeared. Blonde brows furrowed as she climbed to her feet and moved down to the sixth floor, clearing it out as well, and then stopping in at the hospital to see if Ogoti or any of the daemonettes were there. Seeing it empty, she continued down and down - bypassing 3K with all confidence in Minerva, and pausing briefly at 2H with a short, somewhat bittersweet smile - and then up from the basement, and left the Building, joining the others at the picnic once again.

"Hello, everyone. Sorry I'm late. Er...breadstick?"

[Tiltjuice]

Booze-Run Part II
Into the Grass

Insidious
Mathias
Meps
Mez
Nivea
Ocho
Opa
Sigtrygg
Amanda

"How can we best distract it?" Mathias called down softly to Ocho, conscious of just how skittish young wild animals could be. What did this cub's species eat anyway, the naturopath wondered, as he moved gingerly off the branch and closer to the trunk to avoid becoming a real-life instance of the cartoon cat on the bending branch suddenly finding itself in the dog's face. Most of his more fragrant (or pungent) decoctions were gone, stored away aboard the Strumpet - but he'd hung onto the potato. Being without a spud in possibly troubled times? Unthinkable!

He mentioned it to the thade, adding, "Should I feed it, or him, or her?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

RotLB
When the rest of the cultists of Poseidon arrived -- there were dozens of them, apparently reflecting the cult’s importance to the city -- the high priest had them form up under in front of the temple, under the peristyle, with the high priest in the center, and the other priests flanking him in the front row. Sandy began the ritual, intoning one verse of the offering prayer as he stepped up each of the four stairs to the temple. He stood on the top stair as the priest gave the ritual reply, saying the cult would prepare his offering for dedication to Poseidon. Sandy then handed the horses’ ropes to him, and waited while the cult carried out their ritual procession and prayers around the temple.

Sandy reflected that the “harvest of knowledge” he felt at the Mouseion was a more intense sensation than the sounds of surf and hoofbeats that had risen in his ears (and Nick’s, via the telepathic link) as he climbed the staircase. He became aware of another sound beneath the surf and hooves, but couldn’t make it out, it seemed familiar, whatever it was. He listened to the processional chanting as the cult slowly made its way around the temple, gently leading the horses behind them. The prayers were amazing, far more complex musically than anything historians had suspected of Greek ritual: a mixture of call-and-response and polyphonic chanting. Sandy hoped the holocam would be able to reconstruct them, despite it not having as sensitive audio as his magically-enhanced hearing. As the procession neared the back of the temple, echoes muddied the sound, and he decided he’d need his audio software at home to try to make sense of the words.

He shifted his gaze to look in the naos standing wide open in front of him. As before, the interior was lit both through the thin marble roof and from reflections off waves in the harbor behind him. Something clicked in his mind: the temple faced north, so the sun was in front of him and only chance reflections of it off the water could possibly reach the temple. A mystery for now. He ran his eyes over the the interior, taking in the details before moving on the main attraction.

As he expected, the walls were lined with shelves bearing hundreds -- thousands! -- of votive offerings. They ranged from fist-sized terracotta horses to arm’s-length golden ships with ivory sails. The uppermost shelves were empty; apparently the temple was still new enough not to have overflowed.

Sandy looked straight ahead at the immense cultic statue of Poseidon. He took a guess at its height: maybe thirty local feet, substantially smaller than the statue of Zeus at Olympia. But where that Zeus was seated, Poseidon stood upright, his right arm holding his trident straight up and down, hand even with his head. His left hand rested on a hippocampus sitting next to his left leg.

But it was the statue’s gaze that held the viewer’s attention and gave meaning to the figure. Poseidon looked straight out, staring out at the harbor. The effect was that of a majestic king surveying his domain, the harbor and the seas beyond, all truly his.

The procession came back into view on the other side of the temple, and their chanting finished up as they reached the center of the the front. The cult fell silent as one, and soundlessly divided into two equal groups, one on either side of the doorway, facing inward as Nyktimos led the horses into the naos with a short, repeating prayer, much like a mantra. He stopped when when he was a few feet from the statue, and said another prayer, much longer, which was garbled by complex echos bouncing around inside the massive temple. When he finished, he reverently backed away from the statue, leaving the horses standing side by side in front of it.

Sandy felt a curious sensation: it seemed the statue was looking over the horses. He studied its eyes; no, they still stared out to sea, but yet, the sensation remained.

Suddenly, the sensation changed: a wave of both more and less than magic flowed from the temple doorway and Sandy felt he was the one being looked over… or perhaps greeted. At the same time, the sound of the surf rose to the crash of waves on the high seas mixed with the thunder of a stampede, first random as the ocean during a storm, then slowly making sense: a variation on the Olympians’ theme, played in a curious sort of percussion. The smell of sea air grew, as did a more familiar scent: horse sweat. Not the stink of a rider in the saddle too long, but the pure smell of fresh sweat. Sandy knew the smell well from a different nose, the sweat glistening on Pegasus’ flanks as he ran out a tailwind landing after a strenuous flight. It seemed to Sandy that the staircase -- perhaps the whole temple -- swayed and tossed like a boat in a storm, then it too settled down into a rhythm, a lullaby of sorts: a home on the sea. Or was the rhythm the swaying of being on horseback? Sandy wasn’t sure, having never ridden a horse, just been one. Sandy decided that the motion was probably both.

He glanced around: the temple stood rock steady, regardless of the rolling he felt in his … sealegs? Thighs? Strange. He focused on the odd sound he’d heard before, as it too had become louder, and his eyes went wide with terror. He knew when he’d heard it before: he’d considered it the ‘heartbeat’ of the Music of the spell that transformed him into Pegasus. It was an ostinato simpler than Music’s baseline, and more fundamental to its nature. Surely, Poseidon couldn’t tell?? It was just an effect of the magic, right? His eyes jerked to the towering statue, but it held no answers.

Nyktimos walked out of the temple, followed by the black mare and stallion. He no longer led them, but Sandy hadn’t seen what became of their ropes. He caught Sandy’s frantic expression, and whispered to him as he approached the front of the peristyle. “He has accepted your offering, and is gazing upon you, to see who you are. What you hear and feel is normal for His presence.”

“Now let me pass by you, then take your place behind me, one hand on each horse. His presence will be stronger, but it will feel more comforting as well.” Sandy accepted that with a weak nod, not sure how he felt about it.

As the high priest descended the stairs to make his way past Sandy, the other priests formed a line under the peristyle, and the initiates quick-stepped down the stairs to form lines from the bottom of the stairs to the edge of the harbor. Sandy stepped in behind Nyktimos and turned around, and saw that a crowd had gathered outside the temple. The initiates’ purpose became clear: keep them from interfering with the ritual.

Sandy cautiously laid his hands on the horses’ flanks, gently resting his fingertips a little behind their shoulders. Instantly, the apparent swaying increased, as did the smells and the sounds, waves now gently lapping at… well, Sandy supposed there should be a boat involved, though he was unaware of it. The motion was not merely comforting, it was starting to lull him to sleep. Sandy let his palms rest on the horses, and he was dimly aware of the priests filing in behind him and each doing the same.

The mindlink had carried the sounds of seas and hooves to an awed Nick, and more distantly, the salt spray, fresh sweat, and rocking. As Sandy took his third stately step with the procession, Nick felt a creeping sensation, as though somebody was running a finger along the mindlink, tracing it to its source. Momentarily, the sea-feeling reached full intensity, then it resided, though it was still stronger than it had been.

The procession slowly crossed the avenue. Sandy was distantly aware of the growing crowd on both sides of him, beyond the lines of initiates. Nick couldn’t help but feel the crowd’s press as it grew on both sides of the blocked thoroughfare.

At the water’s edge, Sandy thought the tide must have come in, as sea level seemed to be just below the edge of the pavement. It seemed faintly strange that the harbor would experience ten-foot or so tides, but there it was. Neither Nyktimos nor the black horses hesitated; they stepped off into the water as though it was the most natural thing to do. Their feet sunk in only an inch or two. ”Clever! A concealed floating ramp!” Sandy stepped off confidently, but there was no wood below his sandal, just water. There was a ramp of some sort, and Sandy somehow knew it was simply will of Poseidon.

The sacred group continued into the water, slowly sinking in as they went. Sandy was getting soaked, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. Nor did either the mare or stallion mind; Sandy wondered what they were experiencing in the Horse God’s gaze. The water came up to his waist, then chest, then neck, and Sandy continued comfortably forward, into its embrace. The water reached his nose, but he felt no drowning; he doubted he could while Poseidon watched him. The high priest stopped, Sandy stopped, too. The horses continued, slowly disappearing into the harbor. Just as the water covered the tops of their ears, the surface of the water in the harbor went mirror-smooth for an instant, the odd reflection on the water shone perfectly into the temple and, had Sandy looked behind him, lit up the face of the cult statue. And then it was gone… along with the horses. The wind stirred the waves like nothing had happened. Sandy followed the priests’ lead, turned around, and walked slowly back to the water’s edge, still borne and protected by Poseidon. Something tickled Sandy’s mind, and he half-Listened and half simply understood that the curious reflection was Apollo’s gift to his uncle. Its Tune reminded him of the Muses’ Themes, as befit their Choirmaster.

As he slowly made his way up the water-ramp, Sandy realized the seawater simply rolled off of him, leaving him and his clothing dry. He was pretty sure it only wetted him in the first place, not his possessions, and he had no doubt that the holocam was just fine. When the last priest’s back foot touched the pavement, Poseidon’s gaze departed as though the god blinked and turned his attention elsewhere. The sensations of being on the sea and on horseback disappeared, and the ritual ended.

Nick was very quiet as Sandy returned to the shore. He'd honestly thought that the horses simply would drown, or at least seem to - and that, save perhaps from the perspectives of those participating, there'd be little to see. Sandy’s perspective had proved fascinating, and frightening; yet even the most normal person couldn't fail to notice that everything was dry, or that the horses hadn't been frightened in the least. He hadn't realized for several seconds when Sandy's nose had been submerged.

Sandy stood on the shore, stunned and blinking. So that was worshippers' experience back when the gods were powerful. The gears in his mind slipped, ground for a few seconds, and then finally started turning together again. No, that was the experience of worshippers who were very dedicated to their gods and who made some of the largest of offerings. Most people never experienced that.

Sandy realized he'd been standing thinking – or trying to – for a while, as he finally noticed the crowd of people gathered around him. Deisitheos beamed at him, Nyktimos was congratulating him and thanking him for his offering. Many others simply wanted to see or touch such a devout man. Sandy mumbled polite words to all of them, and shuffled away with Deisitheos, still trying to come to grips with what he'd done and what it meant.

In the crudest sense, it meant he'd made contact with 'his' pantheon, even if they didn't know why he'd left a gift at their doorstep, or even who he was. How long would Poseidon remember him? If Sandy returned to his own era, would Poseidon recall a 2,100 year-old gift? Would he believe that Sandy was the one who made it? Sandy had no way of knowing, even if he hadn't left Nyktimos behind: what could the priest possibly know of such long stretches of time.

That was what he though, but what did he feel? Beyond uncomprehending. 'Surprised' came to mind: he didn't expect the ritual to be anything like that. Amazed. Awed. Yes, that was the word, long before it had been debased. He'd made contact with a god. Direct contact, nearly as close as mortals ever got.

His perspective on the Resident deities shifted: many were avatars, not gods; Giovenith was a child, not yet come into her adult glory and power. They shrank in his sight. Not diminished, simply now outranked. Demens was slotted into a new place.

Sandy raised his eyes back to the cult's statue, then looked out to sea. Yes, this is what it meant to be a god, to really have domain over most of the Earth, to have men build monumental universities to you, to have even more, and yet depend on mortals for support. Sandy tried to make sense of it and failed, simply gazing out to sea in wonder.

[OOC: Collab with Fvaar]

[Monfrox]

Spaghetti for the Chosen's Soul

Brit gave Volker and Minerva each a small smile after they had taken their bowls. Poor guys worked so hard to keep things from falling apart at the seams around the building, and were rarely recognized for their hard work. This, she thought, was the least she could do.

"It's the least I could do." She in fact had said to Minerva before she had to cut and run. She hoped the redhead hadn't noticed the slight streak of pink across her flushed cheeks, as it was still hard to get over her crushing on the woman.

But with that done, Brit turned around and rejoined...yelling. The one pony, who's name she couldn't remember and probably didn't even meet at all during the now-over adventure, was making a fuss over something she had no understanding of. Well, when all else fails, food! So she shoved a bowl into his personal space in an attempt to get him to forget what was upsetting him.

"Don't be upset-y, have some spaghetti!" She said with a goofy smile, knowing the joke was awful but made it anyway. "I think that's everyone..." She said, looking around to the rest. Chrys, Hans, Willow 1 and Willow 2, Rache, and some others she had yet to meet. She had barely tended to her own bowl, and had forgotten where she had put it. Well, that's just how things went sometimes.

[Giovenith]

Sallow quickly snatched up his spaghetti and slammed his face into, gobbling it down. He gave his face a big lick after pulling it out.

"You have a paper person too," he said, turning to Brit. "She said that you were enduring a lot of stress and to tell Willow to keep a better eye on you. But how can anyone who is over stressed make spaghetti? It makes no sense!"

[Northwest Slobovia]

RotLB
Deistheos asked Sandy if he wanted to return to the Library now, and he started to answer yes, but remembered Nick’s interest in another temple: Bastet’s. He had the carriage take them there, spending the ride staring out the window as he continued to dwell on his contact with Poseidon. He was slow to remember to give the holocam a good view out the window, so the first part of the journey was recorded only as the tops of buildings. Sandy remembered none of the ride, and would have to rely on the holocam to know where he’d been.

The temple of Bastet was nothing like the temples of Poseidon and the Muses. It was surrounded by a tall wall -- Sandy guessed ten feet or more -- painted with scenes depicting the goddess in the Egyptian style. The tops of trees were visible above the wall. The wall, in turn, was surrounded by a rectangular moat on both sides and the back. ”The city has a series of underground canals. The moat water is probably raised by magic, but for all I know, legions of slaves work pumps to raise it.”

A tall colonnade, much taller than the wall, started at a wide opening in the front wall and led back into the temple compound, and a narrow view of the courtyard and the temple at the far end of the colonnade were visible. The compound seemed several times larger than either of the temples Nick and Sandy had visited, but it was dwarfed by the Mouseion complex as a whole.

One thing drew Sandy’s attention into the compound like no other: he could easily see more cats than he could count, and they walked freely in, out, and around the compound. Deisitheos waited politely while Sandy looked around the compound, then coughed softly to get his attention. “Bastet has a double nature, like Poseidon, being both lioness and mother housecat. You may want to flee her at the same time as pet her.” Sandy gave him an uncertain look, as he knew little of the Egyptian pantheon, and decided to wait for Nick.

Nick instinctively sniffed, picking up the scents of all cats… and one, mixing with and somehow directing the others. Nick didn’t need the Sight to realize he smelled Bastet. Her scent was oddly welcoming, inviting even, and - feeling a primal urge to enter the temple compound - Nick ran ahead.

The scent and the urge were far stronger in the compound, and it was only with great difficulty that Nick managed to keep his wits about him. He desperately wanted to revert to kittenhood and curl up beside Mother Bastet, and at the same time, he wanted to join her on the hunt. He seemed to remember the smells of antelopes, zebras, and even wildebeest, their blood running down his chin, the different flavors of their flesh as he tore it with his incisors.

With difficulty, Nick circled back. ”Sandy - it's like with you and Poseidon’s sounds. I can smell her! I...she's really here. I can smell her. She feels so welcoming. She's actually here, Sandy. She's real. I can't believe this and yet..” The cat was exultant, and sharing much of that joy with the man.

Sandy gave Nick a thoughtful look, trying to make sense of this new revelation. He rubbed a finger on his nose, idly, as he considered it. He smelled nothing, and with the Nose of the Wolf, only cats’ normal smells. He followed Nick back into the compound, and only then got a sense of what he meant.

As Deisitheos had predicted, Sandy’s reaction was a human one, though not very strong. He felt a vague inclination to see if Bastet was around and wanted to warm his lap, and he considered her dangerous only in an abstract sense: a lioness was close enough that he’d hear her roar, but not so close as to provoke panic. Was his exposure to Poseidon armoring him, or was he just too overwhelmed to fully feel attraction and terror?

The three of them, Nick, Sandy, and Deisitheos explored the compound, Nick in the lead. He seemed drawn to the temple at the end of the colonnade. Other cats seemed to be as well, as there were more of them lounging near it.

Where Olympian temples were broad, Bastet’s temple was tall and slim, easily twice the height of Poseidon’s, but only a bit more than half as wide. And much to Nick’s frustration, it was closed, its immense golden doors shut. For a moment, Sandy thought of trying to open them as his friend yowled, but unfamiliar Music told him the temple was enchanted and the doors doubly so. Even had he possessed the right spells, he wouldn’t have dared try to bring down the spells on the lion-goddess’ shrine. That way lies a bloody end, he thought. Nick settled for curling up by the door, allowing himself to revert to kittenhood for a few minutes.

Sandy let Nick roam the compound for awhile longer, until the holocam vibrated its low-memory warning. Sandy turned it off, and tried to convince Nick to leave via the telepathic link. Nick flatly refused, and when Sandy tried to pick him up, he demonstrated that he did descend from great hunting beasts, snarling at him, rearing back, and then threatening mentally and toothily to take a hunk out of his hand. Sandy leapt back, watching Nick nervously. Deisitheos shook his head at Sandy. “Not the wisest course to try to take a worshipper away from his goddess.”

Nick eventually got enough used to Bastet’s aura to allow himself to be led out of the compound. Outside the walls, Nick yearned to return, though the desire faded as the the carriage sped back to the Library: it was getting close to dinner time, the main group meal of the day.

[OOC: Collab with Fvaar]

[Holy Lykos]

Spaghetti for the Chosen's Soul

"Nice to meet you, Rache. Also you, uh human whose name I do not know." Sterling nodded to Rache, and then Brit in turn. The purple pony glanced around, double checking his work before tucking the paper and quill back into his collar. The purple unicorn smiled at Willow before nodding.

"I should apologize too, for not thinking that you might have been under duress. Its good to see you again though Willow." Sterling adjusted his hat before grinning brightly. "Oh, I've learned a bit of new magic since we spoke last! During my attempts to try to return to the Building, I actually managed to get a handle of teleportation! Not very far, but its surprisingly useful. I've been trying to practice other magic, including a variant of the lights I make, a sort of pyromancy. No luck on anything other than teleportation, though..." The pony trailed off, taking his own plate of spaghetti as he realized he was starting to ramble once again.

[Primordial Luxa]

RotLB

Nick and Sandy returned to find the Baron still reading, his table piled high with scrolls. Primordial had to give the now dozen or so assistants he'd collected hints as to what he was looking for – nothing too specific – and that merely cut the number of scrolls to read to a hundred or so, mostly Greek or Egyptian in origin. While he couldn't quite put his finger on it, there was something different about some of the math from those areas. Nothing that was precisely a hallmark of the Mythos, but yet something that suggested somebody – or more likely several somebodies – knew something suggesting access to concepts the mere human mind couldn't fathom. Primordial copied summaries into his notes using the cipher and took pictures with his ring camera of everything. He hadn’t used much of his memory like Sandy had, and was able to copy to his hearts content with discretion.

Discretion proved to be the limiting factor, as the Baron discovered quickly. When he tried copying the scrolls faster than seemed reasonable for skimming, the two Librarians near him started whispering together. Still, he managed to get photos of eighteen scrolls, all of which seemed worthy of further study.

[Swith Witherward]

Spaghetti Picnic
Hans said nothing as more gathered, preferring to focus on his meal rather than contribute to the chaos. Things would iron themselves out, including whatever thing had happened to Yuna. He acknowledged Willow's greeting with a nod, then leaned back while Brit added more food to Rache's hubcap. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to grab Chrys and wisk her away to someplace quiet; to ask her if she forgave him for what he'd done during the fiend attack, and to share a moment of peace. There was no way to politely excuse himself.

Hans sighed, then made an attempt to strike up conversation.

"So, Brit, what happened to you and Chrys? I'm guessing you showed up at the unicorn city," he added more cheese to his bowl before passing the canister on. "From what I gather, Willow and I woke up on a cloud near the Pegasus city. Still don't understand how we got there." His shoulder rose and fell. Like with all things in life, Hans went along for the ride regardless of where it took him. "Did we fulfill our purpose? Was everything sorted?" His eyes shifted to their former guide, Willow.

Rache had wondered these same things, but talking about them only dredged up memories of Pansy. It was better to push away that sorrow. "I know you," he turned his attention to the unicorn instead. "Sterling, the librarian, yes? Arrived at the same time as Willow, back in the day." He paused in reflection of a proper greeting, and decided there really wasn't one for unicorns anyway. "You missed the prelude to Hearth's Warming."



Zan
Zan's emotional flareup put the cultist more at ease. Denial shifted towards anger as words tumbled from his mouth. Minerva quietly allowed him to purge it, dismissing any guilt that it stirred within her own mind. His outward hostility certainly was justified, and he barreled straight through bargaining to embrace depression. Seemingly spent of wrath, and he dropped his gaze.

Her mouth opened to explain some of his questions, but he passed that moment by to enter the next stage: seeking to understand.

"Just tell me why..."

The tone in which he spoke prompted Minerva to break her own rules. He wouldn't be able to accept his fate otherwise. How many Residents were unable to fully embrace their new lives due to that niggling feeling that they could return home and find their easier lives awaiting them? She pushed some papers aside to clear a spot for the bowl before offering a kind smile to the Mon Calamari.

"Residents are normally snatched a heartbeat before their death," Minerva gently began. "I don't have a report yet, so I can't speak with any authority regarding your situation. It may have been a physical ailment you were unaware of, or an assassin. If you were on a ship, it might have been an attack. Demens' Shadow Cells are usually sent out when there is no other option. Otherwise, they send people like me in order to approach the person. We make the offer personally."

She furrowed her brow in frustration. "If I had my way, we'd eliminate Shadow Cells completely. I can see the need for them. I don't agree with the tactic."

[Monfrox]

"What happened with us?" Brit repeated the question to Hans as she sat down.

She looked at him, then looked past him. Through him, even. She remembered the horrible nightmare, the creatures, the mind games...most of all, she remembered when they showed her true fear: Abandonment. She looked away from him as her smile flattened out on her mouth into a neutral line. The faux Willow who so callously blew her off, and that feeling when she was told that she was exiled from the Building. Deemed unworthy of the Residents time. She knew now that it was an illusion, but that didn't stop the fear from being real. After all, there was truth in that fear.

Brit shook her head clear. "I...don't want to talk about it. Where's my bowl." She stood up, and after about three minutes she was back, and she plopped down and resumed eating. Then she perked up a bit. "Hey wait, Chrys? Uh...what happened to Straight Arrow? I don't remember seeing her at the gathering..."

[Cerillium]

Booze-Run Part II
Into the Grass

Insidious
Mathias
Meps
Mez
Nivea
Ocho
Opa
Sigtrygg
Amanda

The cub's teething efforts slowly diminished as the colorful human stepped forward. Patterns of blue warned of possible toxins, or maybe even a deadly bite. Luckily, this cub had once eaten a blue beetle, and wasn't keen to repeat the experience. To him, Insidious was roughly the same size as that bug, and she moved just as purposefully.

Ptoo! Long spit strings clung to Opa as the cub spat him from its mouth. The large predator issued a low hiss, backing away with hackles up and lips pulled back. It chanced a final glance at the group before turning to bound into the grass. The receding vibrations from each pounce told them that it was heading off to seek a new source of pain relief.

"Aw," Meps holstered her weapon, "I thought it was cute. Would have made an interesting pet."

Grunting choice curses in a low pitch only Opa could detect, the thade shouldered his satchel.

"Let's move out," he gestured towards the largest tunnel. "Opa can fit through it. We'll widen it if it narrows." His face tipped towards the sky where, far above, the canopy of actual trees filtered out most of the sunlight. "It seems dim now. It's daylight. We should find a place to make camp and wait for night."


Two hours of silent trudging passed, during which they met no opposition. The tunnel widened and gave way to rocky terrain (pebbles, really, though of great size). The grasses dwindled, crowded out by dense plants reminiscent of earth's hostas, though the leaves rising above their heads were much wider and sported small holes along the edges. Ocho showed Mathias how to nick the stems to collect the milky secretions - the sap had healing properties once rendered down into a powdery form.

They found themselves on the edge of a wide stream. A scattering of larger rocks provided some shelter, and the vegetation surrounding the banks offered plenty of cover. Opa's quick scan revealed nothing large in the vicinity, excluding some insects and a few small animals.

"We'll rest here, and eat," Ocho suggested as he filled his canteen. "Gives us a chance to collect our thoughts."

He settled near the rocks, taking pains to make sure he was under a 'hosta' leaf.

Angels of Avalon

MB
Alexia
Klaus
Maghrl
Giovenith

"We don't know how to disable nuclear devices," the German removed a thin metal tube from his pocket and prompted shoved it up the exo's nose, breaking blood vessels and digging through snot in the process. "Why the fuck would we?" he said testily. "A rabbit, a young girl, a woman, and a fuzzy rodent don't come across bombs every day. Of all of us, I'm the only one with knowledge in modern weaponry, and I don't know how to diffuse bombs."

Klaus extracted the tube and flipped the metal cap closed, sealing the genetic material away before slipping it into a hammerspace pocket. "Goodbye, Nila. You served your people well, and were a good friend to many of us." He offered the exo a moment of silence.

He had half a mind to scrub the mission and bring everyone home, though that would accomplish nothing. He felt put over a barrel. The headstrong bitch just might come after his companions, or retaliate against them if they didn't do her bidding. What choices did he have?

SNAP!

Two spheres blinked into existence, enveloping exo and bomb alike. For those gifted with the ability to sense magic, each seemed imbued with malice though, for the Jedi, it was as though the dark side had taken form. Little commentary could be had before both exo and bomb did exactly what they were designed to do. A sickening splatter instantly coated the sphere on Klaus' right, giving shape to the bubble. The one on his left flared to brilliant white as he forced it to detonate, though the energy did not penetrate the walls. Both spheres shrunk to the size of a softball. He called them to him, then allowed them to float into his pocket.

"I didn't expect that to work outside the Building," he murmured to his party. Of all of them, perhaps only Giovenith and MB had witnessed containment before. It would do nothing to stem the activity of what was inside and, once the sphere dropped - "If I die, run like hell." Maintaining the magic would drain him in time, and dropping the exploded bomb's sphere would unleash the energy within the confines of the pocket universe, destroying a lot of prize possessions, if not also detonating all the atomic kittens and a few exploding shrew.

"Caroline, is it?" he eyed the Angel. Her attitude hadn't impressed him. What would his team have done had he not revealed his magic on so large a scale? As for any sympathy for Annabelle and her people? He was a chaos god. Dying things benefited him, though his sense of honor meant that he loathed watching innocents suffer. "You piss me off, Caroline." Diplomacy flew right out the window. "We are here to help you and, so far, all you've done is treat us like monsters and threaten us with your magic. 'Disarm the bomb or else', indeed. We can't even begin to explain ourselves thanks to your bristling."

It was rare for Klaus not be in good humor. His arms crossed, signaling the end of his habitually boisterous antics. It was a good indication to those that remembered the Drone invasion - he wouldn't use his magic again unless it was to slaughter the angel or rescue the team.

[Mincaldenteans]

OPERATION: LAST CHANCE
DIMENSION: 4590K
LOCATION: Xo'Lok, Vim System, HZSC space
TEAMS: SECRET OMEGA TENTACLE

---

Venla
Romulus
Rmw
Maureen
Macy

A thud from the distance, or was it a rumble? The ground had shook ever so beneath their feet, and for a moment, Maureen thought she had sensed a dread amid the Xo. A focus of extreme fear that left a ghosting impression of fingers dancing upon her neck and shoulders. She shivered ever so slightly, shaking her head to repulse the intruding senses and put her mind to task as requested by Venla.

But Maureen was not a babysitter.

Having to distract a bunch of youth was probably the most challenging task than doing a search and rescue operation. The younglings, while clearly agitated and frightened, did little to hide their curiosity of the interior of the vessel and it quickly became their sole emotion and thoughts as they tried to venture and roam. The former padawan did her best to gently ease those that managed to escape their charges (as she couldn't rightfully claim any of them were the youngling's parents) back to the safety of their elders' watch and care. But it proved a bit annoying as she had to quickly return a set of twins to their seats the moment her back was turned; some like the twins, didn't have any parents and Maureen had to be mindful of the orphaned in particular. She made a low irritated huff as she got the twins back to their seats and moved off to another small group as they stood together with uncertainty and Maureen sought a space amid the growing crowd for them.

---

OPERATION: MASS SANITRATION
DIMENSION: NATIVE
LOCATION: OUTERMARK - BOILERPLATE
TEAMS: BLASTING ZONE AHEAD

---

Calani
Traxt
Paper! Romy
Whoever else wants to come along

Traxt had shook the man's massive hand, although in comparison, he mage may as well been a child. It bothered him none, the charr were as big if not bigger than Romulus (depending on which clan they came from) and had paws that sliced through most forged metal. The mage took it as a boon that he didn't have to contend with those vile furred creatures here; although boons came with a sickening amount of irony in the form of the Outermark.

Anais had warned against the dangers here when she was briefed about it personally. This was no place for the faint of heart and even magic may not prove resilient enough to ensure a modicum of safety. While Traxt had arrived with his usual staff in hand, he was not anticipating a travel through the region and the thought alone had him glance at the companion; just how hearty was she and what her capabilities were to be so at ease in a hostile region like this.

All thoughts to ask her evaporated as he was (politely) shoved into the driver's seat. Traxt perched an eyebrow and an amused look that couldn't be helped, "You realize, I cannot steer this metal carriage? I've yet familiar myself with all the other technologies at the Building, much less," he gazed upon the dashboard, "This... thing."

[Giovenith]

Willow stopped mid-spaghetti bite when he saw that everyone in the group was staring at him, expecting answers. He swallowed guiltily and tried to find worthy answers, afraid of the slowly returning storm that had been brewing inside of him ever since their return.

I hurt my friends! one of his inner voice screamed, then started babbling all the horrible things the Umbrum had put into his head, twisting his insides again.

Stop it! he chastised it. You did no such thing! You got them all out, back here, safe and sound!

There wasn't any sense in seeming morose, not when they were looking to him for reassurance. Willow collected himself. "Well," he began. "We couldn't have not succeeded. Me, Sterling, and I guess Sallow too, we all still exist and have our same memories and personalities, so history had to have played out the way it was supposed to. I'm not sure why we were sent there in the first place or by what, or who, but maybe it has to do with this mission Demens has sent us on and we'll find out more soon. As for where we were specifically..."

As they ate, Willow repeated the story he had told to Rache, of the tribes' fighting and the things that had happened after they left which would all eventually lead to Equestria.

"... and so I guess we all had a hand in that," he said. "We were all sent to one of the tribes to help the chosen ponies reach their fate. They obviously must have come through. I don't know what happened to the rest of the ponies we encountered there though, or why..."

The painter tensed up. He didn't want to reveal a shudder at the memory of the last he saw of Cloud Duster, or worse yet, the shameful tale of how the shadows had almost convinced him to leave his friends. He disguised any curiosity the tension might have set off by brushing an imaginary bug from himself.

"... or why certain things happened along the way."

[Chedastan]

Angels of Avalon

MB
Alexia
Klaus
Maghrl
Giovenith

Caroline watched from her elevated height in the air of Klaus giving some rather poignant mourning to the alleged Gargant who remained chillingly still and lifeless, he delivered it as though they had knew each other personally for quite some time, like friends. It was in that sorrowful display that she realized she had made a hideous misjudgement of character over the strangers.

Her heart began to sank, what had she done, threatening them like that?

Before she could try and say another word, a loud SNAP was quick to break her train of thought. The bomb and the dead friend had been enveloped into powerful spheres that held with them disturbing malice.

The angel was then quickly startled over the gruesome sight of the dead body suddenly splattering without warning from within the protective sphere, with all she could do was stare into the oozing brown sludge horrifically with a hand over her mouth and her whole body remaining still and fearful. That was not a Gargant! That was somebody’s friend, somebody’s child! Damn me! The blue streaks shown in the blood only added to prove her wrongful accusal.

She then shielded her eyes from the detonating bomb, the very perpetrating object that made this tragic misunderstanding continue and not cease. But like the now desecrated body, it and the bomb were then compressed even further into the size of softballs and were stuffed away into Klaus’s pockets. The man was a very powerful magic user that was for sure, and definitely one to not trifle with.

"Caroline, is it?"..."You piss me off, Caroline."..."We are here to help you and, so far, all you've done is treat us like monsters and threaten us with your magic. 'Disarm the bomb or else', indeed. We can't even begin to explain ourselves thanks to your bristling."

She listened to every word the Germ Man had to say, remaining silent and letting there be a noticeable pause before attempting to say her own words after taking a short breath. The man had every right to be outraged by her.

“I am dreadfully sorry that I assumed you and your friends were the Enemy, it was wrong to place that total accusal on strangers we’ve haven’t met. And I am also very sorry about your fallen friend.” She then put her spear away and onto her back and landed calmly on ground near to them.

“Please understand, while it’s quite clear now that you’ve been framed by the Gargants and had that bomb planted with your group during transit into Avalon, we’ve been experiencing attacks here for months since the warmachines got the Ellis Gates working. So if we let our guard down for any waking moment, they could destroy this island in an instant. My command to disarm the bomb was to see if your group were mimics or not, obviously you're not."

The sun continued to gleam and shine at it's peak in the sky, it was still midday, and no doubt the markets were still bustling in a nearby street despite the commotion. Weapons were still trained on them by the humans in the rooftops and shops however, this was likely a sign to the angel that the captain was still rather unease.

Not trying to paid mind to the glimmering barrels of nearby fusion weapons, the angel tried her best to keep things relatively calm. "My name is Caroline as you've heard, the human captain on the rooftop over there is named Dewitt. What are your names, where do you come from? I see you've met my cousin Abelle already, how did you meet her?"

[Tiltjuice]

Angels of Avalon

MB
Alexia
Klaus
Maghrl
Giovenith

MB snuffled, twitching his nose confusedly as he turned this way and that. The little rabbit began digging quietly into the ground, hoping to create a den for himself since it now seemed that Klaus had managed to deal with the boom balls that would have fed him for months. Somewhat disappointed with the cultist for taking away that feast, he tipped his ears straight up, letting them seem to sink into the ground as he dug his way down. Klaus had taken over being the face of the group for now, and sometimes it was worth more to listen than to talk. Especially in the urban jungle.

One ear swiveled so that it stayed facing Giovenith. The other rotated as much as it could, front to back to front again.

Booze-Run Part II
Into the Grass

Insidious
Mathias
Meps
Mez
Nivea
Ocho
Opa
Sigtrygg
Amanda

The tall naturopath knelt on a flat-ish rock next to the stream to clean some of the sap off his hands and out from under his fingernails. The sticky plant juice formed thin white trails and whorls through the water, like streaks of mayonnaise. Delighted with the discovery of a new, foreign plant, he'd taken a leaf as a sample and folded it gingerly to put into his pack. It'd be properly preserved and pressed later, into his scrapbook. But for now, he'd spent considerable time making gleeful noises about studying the hostas-like flora.

Following the customs and practices of the natives had served him well on Rigel, and he didn't see any reason to change that here on the thade world. He sat back under a leaf of his own, just as Ocho had, and rolled his potato from hand to hand. It must have looked a little strange to at least some among the party, but really, the tuber was quite handy as a distraction for human-sized sophonts, food, and now as a fidget device. He wondered if any of the small animals or the insects might come in to take a closer sniff of the potato, and watched the surroundings for them.

OPERATION: MASS SANITRATION
DIMENSION: NATIVE
LOCATION: OUTERMARK - BOILERPLATE
TEAMS: BLASTING ZONE AHEAD

---

Calani
Traxt
Promy

Calani had climbed into the other side at first. Not merely a response to the paper General's desire for haste, it had been her lifestyle for many a year. Both the Lodge's training and her work had meant, among other things, that she followed where her male principals led. But as Traxt stopped to mention that he was unable to operate the truck, she began gathering her hair up, deftly fishtailing it. With the red strands out of the way, she got up from the seat and turned inside the cab.

"Please excuse me, gentlemen," she said, and slid sideways without any further ado. Being what she was, the undershirt within her Chosen uniform was rather less close-fitting than others might have worn, and if either Traxt or Paper Romy had been looking, they might have caught the briefest flash of violet and green peeking out from under her collar, right at the nape of her neck; though that seemed strangely offset. Then it was gone again as the dark fabric shifted with her movements toward the driver's seat. With a wave of her hand, she invited them to open up the driver's seat for her. Without further ado, they were off.

Not oblivious to Traxt's thoughts - though mainly because it was a question she would have asked him if she and he had been in their original places - she gave him a polite nod. "Perhaps we could assure each other that heading to the Outermark won't be the end of any of us?"

[Reventus Koth]

Zan Kraken let his fists unfurl and let his body relax slightly in anticipation of Minerva's answer. He knew he may not be prepared to handle the truth, but he needed to hear it. If he was going to he able to manage being anything in this brave new world, he needed somewhere to start.

"Residents are normally snatched a heartbeat before their death. I don't have a report yet, so I can't speak with any authority regarding your situation. It may have been a physical ailment you were unaware of, or an assassin. If you were on a ship, it might have been an attack. Demens' Shadow Cells are usually sent out when there is no other option. Otherwise, they send people like me in order to approach the person. We make the offer personally."

Zan reflexively smirked. He didn't even realize why at first, the logic had to come at him in waves. There was something very off about what Minerva was saying, he could tell...but what was it? This was clearly a rehearsed line, presumably something she had to tell a lot of newcomers to make them feel at ease.

That was the first clue. Yes, it was rehearsed. No, it wasn't something she told everyone. He thought about it a bit harder before realizing that if this bit about being snatched before death was common, surely the rather blunt horse-creature that was attempting to "rip the band-aid off" would have mentioned something like that. The word "chosen" was used too often for it to make sense that it was some altruistic intervention. No, this was a line that was only deployed tactically, further reinforced by her mentioning that she did not yet have any proof to back it up.

This was a carefully calculated lie, he concluded. It was a lie that had no negative outcome for Minerva. If he was to call her out on it, she would merely only have to reply that she's not speaking with any authority and that she could be wrong. Her distaste in the tactic would be emphatically restated, ensuring that he would be validated in his feelings of oppression. In this way, the ire is redirected to this "Demens", and she keeps her hands clean.

On the other hand, if he was to just accept the tale, he would of course appreciate her forthcoming. He would have to resign himself to being here or being dead, and clearly one option wins out. More importantly, he would have to accept that going back was not an option, and that was his second clue. This wasn't a lie told to everyone, just the ones that are being too difficult. The ones that think they can go back. Minerva needed to destroy this line of thought and replace it with an appreciation for Demens saving his life.

So Zan just kept up his smirk. The third clue had finally hit him: After realizing that any response he could give Minerva would result in her redirecting his emotions toward Demens, he realized that she never actually answered the question. She did not tell him why Demens had chosen him at all. There's no reason to randomly save a person, one not even from your own dimension, from death. Not unless you need them for something. And not just a generic something, you needed them for something specific. It was too much of a coincidence to be truth. Answering the question without first crushing his hopes and absolving herself of responsibility for it would have led to a negative outcome. The only thing left now was to find out why.

"I don't care what his excuse was. Why did he choose me, why did he go out of his way to bring someone in the clutches of death across dimensions to his doorstep? The sooner you tell me, the sooner the nightmare ends and I can get back to work, whether it be for your boss or myself," Zan replied.

[Holy Lykos]

Angels of Avalon

MB
Alexia
Klaus
Maghrl
Giovenith

Maghrl's nose twitched, keeping his back to the bright flash of the twin detonations. It was... exceedingly bad that they had already lost one of their own. They were supposed to be helping these people though, and sacrifice was to be expected in such a dangerous world. At least this part of the world still felt... alive. The Force here was still healthy, like an island in the storm of death and decay that this world was becoming, or had been for a long time. Maghrl had no idea of course, but it seemed this had been like this for a long time, given the Angel's attitudes towards outsiders.

The fuzzy being observed the humans and angels that had challenged them, letting his mind read over the various emotions of the crowd. Fear and distrust was obvious, but this Caroline seemed concerned about Abelle. "Abelle lead us here, help fight undead, yep yep." The Squib answered her. He pointed to himself before introduce myself, "Maghrl’laundersando’tamil’reumaur. Mag or Maghrl for shortname. Maghrl is Jedi Knight. From Skor. No speak-talking Basic super duper well, no no." As always, his accent was rapid, strange, and hard to understand. The name especially was foreign and rapidly spoken.

---

Booze-Run Part II
Into the Grass

Insidious
Mathias
Meps
Mez
Nivea
Ocho
Opa
Sigtrygg
Amanda

Sigtrygg blinked, about to respond to amanda when the beast suddenly scampered off thanks to the work of Insidious. "Oh. Well that solves that titanic problem. Good work, Miss Insidious." Sigtrygg nodded to her, before dusting a bit of moss off of his uniform. The stuff seemed to like clinging to the fabric, which was unfortunate if they were to hide in tunnels more.... Which according to the thade, they were about to travel through. Sig just figured he would need to stay on top of keeping himself free of moss then.


After their march, the Viking stretched out his limbs and glanced around the... Well not really clearing, as much as an overhang in the vegetation. It felt strange to the giant man to be in a world where even the plants dwarfed him. "Ocho. Should we set up a fire, or is that too dangerous on your world? Given the climate it seems we will be warm enough, but we may want to cook some food, aye?" The viking asked their de facto leader, since the thade was a native.

"And for food, what do we have? Will we need to go hunting before we resume traveling?"

---

Confused Pony and Spaghetti

It took Sterling only a short time to begin piecing together what the group was talking about, and get a general idea of where they were. At first the piecing together led the pony to hold his mouth slightly agape in confusion, only for this to increase until it was very accurate to say his lower jaw was practically hanging. Time travel? To the era before Equestria? The names gave it away, as did Willows concerns that they were sure that everything had been left as it was supposed to be...

"Prelude... to Hearth's Warming? You mean... That's where you all were? Back in Equestria thousands of years before the time me and Willow came from? And you helped make sure Hearth's Warming actually happened, right? Wow, you'd think the history books would record bipeds having helped ponies, but I do suppose things like that were before properly recorded history anyway... Must have been quite the ordeal, then." Sterling swallowed nervously, glancing over towards Willow now that he had a better idea just what he probably went through.

"But yes, I'm Sterling, Rache. You're right about when I arrived too, but as I told Willow earlier some... unforeseen circumstanced led to me being forced to return home without him a few years ago. I feel pretty horrible about that, honestly. It wasn't really the same without him, but I ended up back here anyway. Not sure how, but I did. I think I arrived roughly the same day you left for your tribulations back in Equestria, ironically enough." Sterling was still quite a chatterbox, of course.

"I'm assuming though, that you weren't always a pony, right Rache? I would have remembered a third pony here, definitely."

[Primordial Luxa]

Spaghetti
Despite being a hulking monster of a soldier Aegis had a knack for fading into the background. It was likely because he often remained so quiet. Better to remain quiet and not have the enemy know you're a threat than to open your mouth and remove any doubt, as the old proverb went. It suited him well most of the time. He did not like talking he liked acting, Primordial was fine to chat his way into a library before burning it to the ground and insidious found the act of ripping a person apart with a well-placed social jab to be entertainment enough. Not so for Aegis.

So, he listened to Minerva and her musing on what it meant to be a Chosen, Rache vent at the injustice of chaos body politics and Willows Equestrian musing. His eyes moving back and forth through the slits in his golden mask occasionally it clicked as it mimicked the face underneath.

“It was.” He finally said to Sterling. “For starters, we were not bipeds. We were altered into the bodies of equines. You cannot imagine the cold, a stinging biting thing that was alive and monstrously hungry. That’s what it really was, those wendigo’s, some Ithaqua parallel. It was a lack of heat, lack of love, lack of food, they weren’t just demons of infighting and cold wind. I think they must have embodied something deeper. Poverty, of the body, soul, and heart. It took a lot out of me, so much hunger is lethal, especially to me.”

Having finished his spaghetti with ease due to his rapid hunger he began to look at the bowl and considered eating it but thought that might be rude.

Booze-Run Part II
Into the Grass

Insidious
Mathias
Meps
Mez
Nivea
Ocho
Opa
Sigtrygg
Amanda

Insidious curtsied to Sigtrygg with no small amount of humor her skin changing from blue, to bright pink, to vanta black and then to a series of hues allowing her to blend in with the forest. She sauntered invisibly over to the viking and the thade.

Sitting down nearby and pulling rations out of her pack she needed to keep up her stamina and began to partake. While asking some very pointed questions. “Ocho, before we left, Minerva mentioned that after questions she would talk about ‘the issues you'll have with magic’. But she never did, can you enlighten me on how my powers may function differently?”

As she spoke she breathed in deeply. Blotting out the smell of the jungle, the rot of vegetation and the trapped chemical gasses produced by animals and plants. She searched for the unnatural. The true reality that bled through, the scene of the metaphysical and the eldritch. If minions were nearby she wasn’t going to be caught off guard.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Booze-Run Part II
Into the Grass

Insidious
Mathias
Meps
Mez
Nivea
Ocho
Opa
Sigtrygg
Amanda

The first part of the hike was pleasant, other than the tunnel lacking any sort of view. But slogging through a rock field was hard work, and Amanda was unused to rugged terrain. By the time they stopped, she was worn out. At least the stream was pretty, and she picked her way through the rocks to get a better view.

One of the larger rocks was smooth, which rang a dim bell in Amanda's mind: pebbles were polished by running water. She looked at the scenery with new eyes, and adjusted for the scale. Uh-oh.

She spotted one giant talking to another -- the imposing Northman and the Thade -- and dragged her aching legs over to them.

"Ocho. Should we set up a fire, or is that too dangerous on your world? Given the climate it seems we will be warm enough, but we may want to cook some food, aye?" [...] "And for food, what do we have? Will we need to go hunting before we resume traveling?"

"Pardon my interruption, gentlemen, but is this such a good place to stop?" She directed the Viking's attention to the view. "Where I'm from, smooth rocks are made by running water, and there's a creek flowing through the middle of this area."

She looked up at him. "Imagine we're the size of bugs. These rocks we've been we've been plodding over would be pebbles, left some time ago by water. Back home, I'd say this is a dry riverbed. Since it's supposed to rain later, I think we should be at least on the other side of the creek, and possibly further from it in case there's flooding. But I'm a city girl, so I think you have a better sense of the out of doors. How does it look to you?" She shifted her glance to include Ocho, though she wondered if a Thade lawyer would know any more about wilderness than she did.

[Tiltjuice]

Spaghetti Picnic
Hans said nothing as more gathered, preferring to focus on his meal rather than contribute to the chaos. Things would iron themselves out, including whatever thing had happened to Yuna. He acknowledged Willow's greeting with a nod, then leaned back while Brit added more food to Rache's hubcap. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to grab Chrys and wisk her away to someplace quiet; to ask her if she forgave him for what he'd done during the fiend attack, and to share a moment of peace. There was no way to politely excuse himself.

Hans sighed, then made an attempt to strike up conversation.

"So, Brit, what happened to you and Chrys? I'm guessing you showed up at the unicorn city," he added more cheese to his bowl before passing the canister on. "From what I gather, Willow and I woke up on a cloud near the Pegasus city. Still don't understand how we got there." His shoulder rose and fell. Like with all things in life, Hans went along for the ride regardless of where it took him. "Did we fulfill our purpose? Was everything sorted?" His eyes shifted to their former guide, Willow.

Rache had wondered these same things, but talking about them only dredged up memories of Pansy. It was better to push away that sorrow. "I know you," he turned his attention to the unicorn instead. "Sterling, the librarian, yes? Arrived at the same time as Willow, back in the day." He paused in reflection of a proper greeting, and decided there really wasn't one for unicorns anyway. "You missed the prelude to Hearth's Warming."

Chrys did not speak at first. Desiring to spare Brit any more angst, she regarded the young woman with the wide, bright blue eyes that seemed so innocent and were far from that state.

"Far in the past of the Ponies' land," she answered simply, deciding at last that coming straight out with it was the best thing. The breadstick lowered to cover a portion of Chrys' plate, before she broke it carefully in half with a small scattering of crumbs, and extended the half that didn't have bits missing from it toward Sterling. The velvet darkness of the Ponies' world was something that Chrys missed already. Maybe she had been born to that kind of realm and that kind of struggle, after all...was that what Demens had seen when she'd become one of his Chosen?

She gave Willow a look of hooded sympathy. Even if she hadn't been there, sudden reticence on the part of a young, impressionable sophont was completely plain to see. Though perhaps her own younger self colored over every other explanation that might have been real, leaving her to see only the one lone unmarked reason. The one which itself meant that Willow was far from unscathed. The corners of her mouth turned down, and she started in surprise as her hand found Hans' seemingly of its own accord. She swallowed.

"Everything went as well as it could have," she lied? Covered for Willow? Covered for Brit? Perhaps it didn't matter, not in the end. "The three Pony leaders - Princess Platinum, Commander Hurricane, and...Chancellor Puddinghead? I think... - they appreciated what we'd done for them. Driving away the Windigos and the Umbrum. That's enough to drink to, wouldn't you all say?"

[Chedastan]

Booze-Run Part II
Into the Grass

Insidious
Mathias
Meps
Mez
Nivea
Ocho
Opa
Sigtrygg
Amanda

Relief was casted on the Nevidian courier upon watching the massive beast of a cub disengage from them and leaving Opa behind in one piece, funnily it seemed more afraid of Insidious than they were of it, and probably for a better reason. Dusting dirt off her pants that has since dried, she agreed with Ocho that heading out was the best thing they could do right now, considering who knows what else could be lurking out in this foliage, they only got merely lucky with that cub so far.

Two hours had went by as they traveled, she remembered being on her feet 3 to 4 hours at a time because of some ass-backwards directions she was given to deliver to, it hadn't help that her city back home was awkwardly designed and erratic in structure in certain parts. At least on this planet there were many sights to behold on the way to the stream and even by the water itself, the plant life was positively blooming as they grew next to the roaring sounds coming from the water.

Nivea had sat herself at a rock, and listened quietly at the whooshing and droning sound the river had to it, it was a white noise that was soothing to hear. The only way it could've been made better was it were dark out, night was her better friend after all, assuming if no deadly predators were lurking around. She should probably ask, "When should nightfall start coming? And what should we be on the lookout for during nighttime?" She then asked their Thade guide, Ocho.

[Giovenith]

Angels of Avalon

MB
Alexia
Klaus
Maghrl
Giovenith

It wasn't a pretty sight to see Nila explode, especially since Giovenith was in the dark about what might happen to her after this. Was she gone for good? Hopefully not, that would be dreadful! She wasn't about to ask though, not with the look on Klaus' face. When even Klaus wasn't happy, things were bad. She had to act.

Scooping MB back up for support, she carefully approached closer to Caroline.

"You are afraid," Giovenith said, clearly but carefully. "From what we've seen, you have much to fear. I understand that. That doesn't remove the harm that's been done so far, but I understand."

Off to such a rough start, the young lady knew that this mission wasn't going to be an easy one. It was already hard enough standing there attempting the impossible task of smoothing things over between a War god and a towering angel over an exploded alien war machine. But standing against the Devourers would be even harder, so she might as well start getting used to it now.

"We've come from a dimension far away looked after by a higher being," she continued to explain. "It's a very long story, but there's a bigger war at play than the one you have now and we believe that helping you here will ultimately help us with ours. Please, accept us with no more suspicion, so that we can save you both from your Gargants here and greater things you don't know of yet." She pointed to the trained weapons above. "That means them too. We can't afford any more misunderstandings."

---

Spaghetti

Willow nodded along to Sterling and Aegis, confirming everything they asked and said as he seized a moment to gobble down a few more noodles. After days of eating just mush and pure foods like grass, the simple pasta was practically luxurious. Despite his continuing unease about his experiences, there was a simple satisfaction about being back home that was calming parts of him. There were some individuals that took a lot of pride in their past and heritage; traveling back in time for them would evoke noble energy and a personal drive to carry on the values they'd felt then. Willow wasn't one of those individuals. Although this trip had certainly built a greater appreciation for his ancestors and national heroes, he was certain in his heart that he was a child of the present through and through.

"I'd sure they do - did," he said, agreeing with Chrys. "We've helped make life easier for more beings that we can count. Maybe we got a few scrapes along the way, but I think that's worth it."

Not sure what else to, he raised his spaghetti bowl.

"To friends: the ones always with us, the ones who return, and the ones long gone but still close to heart."