As Magtok observes the satellite, an ice elf saunters over to him. In the ten minutes since the party was disbanded and everyone left, she's already changed into her full suit of plate-mail, a full-faced helmet tucked under her arm. Strapped to her back via a complex harness is a massive greatsword, easily as long as she is tall. It's hard to saunter anywhere in plate mail, but Moon Called seems to have turned it into an artform.
"Just like old times, eh Maggot?" She observes with a smirk. "Well actually it's nothing at all like old times, but maybe if we give Cuthulhu a giant Napoleon hat we can pretend it is."
As Eadin turns back towards the city, she stands a fair chance of running headlong into Ace. The magician is understandably distracted at the moment, watching in horror as R'lyeh rose up from the water.
This was his fault.
It is a meow from Basta that alerts Ace to Eadin's presence before she gets too close. He pulls his gaze away from the abominations gallivanting above him and waves at the girl, trying to draw her attention over to him.
Hopefully being in a group meant a greater chance of surviving this mess.
Beckett froze in the shadows, creeping through the alleyways of Inside with a quiet, cat-like stealth. His breath was light, shallow and soundless, his footsteps stirring up no more than dust. His pistol is clutched in his right hand, his knife in his left. After being attacked with what he could only call a werewolf on steroids, Beckett was low on ammo and tired. He needed to get back to his clinic to rest-up and restock, before he could do anything about...
whatever this mess was.
Hopefully he could make it there in time before he got attacked by some sort of giant, rolling tentacle ball things.
Taking advantage of the chaos is a certain, dark-skinned cowboy. Allen is seated at a table near the back of Trog's, the pantry door open wide behind him. He is seated with his booted feet up on the table, his chair tipped back onto the rear legs, and he's gorging himself. Fruits and freshly cooked meat surround him, thrown haphazardly from the pantry. In Allen's hands are the biggest, ripest, juiciest apples he could find, and the cowboy is delving into them with an almost ruthless hunger.
Y'know, this whole apocalypse thing wasn't really that bad.