[Nexus] That Day Has Come

[Mindfreak]

Inside
"Well excuse me for pulling out my weapon when you pulled out yours on me!"
She put away her weapons and got out of Tirin's arms.
"As for me I still need to go back to Umbrella to bring the medical and weapon supplies to the MagCave where I hope they'll actually be of use."

[Rebonack]

[Inside]

"Given the nature of the pharmaceuticals Umbrella corporation is known to produce I doubt that they would be welcome in one of the last safe-havens the Nexus offers."

Oh hey, a voice!

From...

Somewhere?

It's really rather hard to pinpoint the source. Maybe that's what the watching was all about?

"While I have my doubts that zombie-plague drugs would be in great demand I will none the less do my best to clear the way to the Umbrella corporation should you insist on that course of action."

Sounds like... a child? A little girl, probably. Though her tone is rather grim.

[Lady Serpentine]

[Inside]

"Umbrella is still standing? I don't care about the other stuff; I know people in there. We need to get them out."

[Saurous]

MagFirmary

Weeee-oooo weeeee-oooo weeeee-oooo!

Saurous might very well get run over by a speeding gurney, as Magtok pushes the thing by, racing towards Moon's bed with an assortment of scary and horrible tools, surgical instruments, and white infirmary Magbots too lazy to walk there but perfectly willing to shout loudly and make their eyes blink red and blue, as instructed by their master.

...What? There's an apocalypse going on, Magtok has to find some way to do something silly. He can only stay grim and serious for so long before the stress gets to be too overwhelming.

Saurous manages to just barely jump out of Magtok's way as he runs past with the gurney. It's good to see that he continues to be predictably dramatic. The necromancer returns to Moon's bed, quietly standing by the foot. He looks back at her, giving a roll of his eyes.

[Mindfreak]

Inside
"Only some of our medicine use the T-Virus in a very small form. It's been proven for thousands of years that it has no adverse effects. It's only the T-Virus in a pure, unaltered form that causes that disease." she says to the voice.
She looks at Tirin.
"Don't worry Tirin, everyone has been evacuated from Umbrella except for the security personal. They're holding down the fort for now, thanks to Zero's help."
Zero was being quite adept at keeping the starspawn at bay.

[Lady Serpentine]

[Inside]

"Good. Now, O Voice, who are you, and how do we know you won't kill us horribly?"

[Rebonack]

[Inside]

"I am Raven Ezekiel Bath-Raril," the voice replies. "And I have been charged by my Mother to protect any mortals that remain in the City. There are... not many mortals left. Most have been devoured or corrupted already. I was surprised to find any."

She doesn't mention that she had been traveling several blocks in front of Missy and murdering any other starspawn she happened across.

"If I were a shoggoth I would have no need to speak without being seen. If I were hostile I would have no reason to speak at all. You need not see me at all for my purpose to be carried out."

Seems she prefers things that way.

They might be able to catch a glimpse of Raven perched atop a nearby telephone poll. But only a vague outline. And not at all a human one. The mist is too thick to make out details.

[Reinholdt]

[MagCave Entrance]

Divaonar is following his half-sister! And he doesn't feel much like a lie. If he were a lie he would be cake! Or... not be cake? Something. It's confusing.

The lad remains in half-drow form if only to make it less likely that someone will shoot at him.

HE'S A LIE.

Ilpholin knocks on the front door.

Mister Squiggles and Margret are there too. Yay.

[Mindfreak]

Inside
"Alright, I really need to get to Umbrella. Since you seem to be quite powerful, can you teleport me there?"

[Lord Magtok]

MagFirmary

Spoiler

Show

MagFirmary

Well then.
So much for 'trying not to fall asleep.' Moon Called jumps as Saurous suddenly hurls his chair away, her eye tracking its arc as it launches through the air and flinching at it hits the wall.

And then as Magtok and his clones stampede into the room. Right on cue, as expected. Regaining her composure quickly, Moon Called turns her head, watching as the cyborg pushes his equipment up next to her bed. It was a lovely assembly of tools and gizmos. The ice elf had to wonder how many of them he'd made especially for her and how many were just happy coincidences.
"You are entirely too excited over this." She observes, dryly. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, though. I still need to get some more information.

The cyborg raises up a bone saw, stares at it quizzically, and then raises an eyebrow towards the smelly elf.

"More information? How much more do you need besides 'Hack old arm off, plug in new one'? I mean, even for someone like yourself, I imagine it should all be fairly self-explanatory."

C'mon Moon, stop trying to delay things! Magtok's finally got a totally valid excuse to cut your arm off, don't ruin it for him!

[happyturtle]

Inside Streets

Since the people who asked her for help seem to have found it, Missy moves on, giving Edijar a radio report of the 3 individuals who seem to probably be headed for the MagCave eventually.

When she reaches her childhood home, she finds that the door has been broken down with violence. Inside, there is enough dried blood that it is unlikely anyone survived. But she makes a grim and determined search.

In the end, all she finds is part of her mother's hand, identifiable by the marriage tattoo. But Missy wouldn't have needed it. Who could ever mistake their mother's hands, whether it had been ten years or fifty since they'd seen it?

That her father had been there too, she only knows by some bloody scraps of his clothing.

She carries on her search though. It would have been easier if one of them were alive, but surely they had left something in writing. If they hadn't...

She didn't want to think of what would happen if they hadn't.

***

Missy found a carved box on her mother's bedside table, and when she opened it, the sight of what was inside took her breath away. A photograph of a ten year old boy.

She removed her helmet and gloves so she could look closer, touch the picture. Under it were a series of others, one for each year, moving backwards in time, until there was a newborn infant being held by a couple in traditional Orthodox Arnaudin dress. That could have been me and Nathaniel.

My son. That was my son.

She fought back the tears. No time for that now. Under the photos was a small collection of letters. No time for them either, except to get the address.

It was probably too late. But she had to try.

[Lady Serpentine]

[Inside]

"I am Raven Ezekiel Bath-Raril," the voice replies. "And I have been charged by my Mother to protect any mortals that remain in the City. There are... not many mortals left. Most have been devoured or corrupted already. I was surprised to find any."

She doesn't mention that she had been traveling several blocks in front of Missy and murdering any other starspawn she happened across.

"If I were a shoggoth I would have no need to speak without being seen. If I were hostile I would have no reason to speak at all. You need not see me at all for my purpose to be carried out."

Seems she prefers things that way.

They might be able to catch a glimpse of Raven perched atop a nearby telephone poll. But only a vague outline. And not at all a human one. The mist is too thick to make out details.

"True enough. In that case, thank you."

[Rebonack]

[Inside]

When questioned regarding teleporting Raven falls silent for a few moments. Is she considering whether or not she should or...? "If I could teleport mortals to their destinations there would be little sense in me risking my own safety by destroy hostile creatures in their paths."

Oh.

Well...

That's probably a 'no' isn't it?

"Do you desire to travel to the Umbrella corporation building? Or to the MagCave?"

While Missy is inside her parent's home she'll probably still have that nagging feeling that she's being watched. Which... might be due to Raven? Hopefully. Hopefully there isn't something worse that the starspawn missed lurking around.

[Lady Serpentine]

[Inside]

"Would we be able to get to one from the other, and back? Some of the weapons that are at Umbrella could be useful, but if we couldn't get to the MagCave from there, it could be pretty useless."

[happyturtle]

Inside Streets

Unfortunately for Missy, the photos have thrown her off so completely that her situational awareness is way down. Not gone, by any means, but certainly not up to her usual standards.

She puts what she needs to take in a bag, puts her helmet and gloves back on, and returns to the streets, headed for another address not far off.

[Rebonack]

[Inside]

"The two destinations are in opposite directions. And the longer you linger here in the open the more likely I will fail in protecting you. I... Would rather not fail in my task again..."

The coldness in Raven's voice falters. But then there comes a sound of rushing wind moments before a child in a hooded cloak abruptly drops out of the fog several paces in front of Miss. The top of the hood tapers out into a point, giving it an almost beak-like appearance.

The macabre feel of her outfit is completely ruined by the bright pink plushy panther head backpack she's wearing.

"Please do not venture out alone. I can not see to the safety of all of you if you scatter. I-" her gaze falls down to the ground as she balls her fists. One can easily hear the tears welling up in her eyes. "This is hard... I don't want anyone else to die because I'm not strong enough... Please stay with us."

[Lady Serpentine]

[Inside]

"Are you okay?"

Tirin does a scan of Raven as he says this.

((Wait... Where is Raven when she does this, anyway? Did Tirin hear her? It's kind of confusing...))

[happyturtle]

Inside Streets

"Take care of them. I'm Remnant. I can protect myself," Missy says. And she continues on her way, not waiting for a reply.

[Mindfreak]

Inside
"Yeah, at least until you run out of ammo, then you're dead." she responded to Missy. She turned and looked at Raven.
"So can you help me bring the weapon and medical supplies to the MagCave?"

[Rebonack]

[Outside MagCave]

Divaonar is totally waiting outside the cave for someone to open the door and let them in. And trying his best not to seem like a lie. While trying to get an idea of how old his half-sister is. He knows about when Cal did... things... to his Father. And that was just a little over a year ago. Well... More like a year and a half. But still!

Maybe they were like himself and they were born older?

Or maybe they grew up really fast?

Or! Maybe they grew up in another timeline!

Could be any of those things. Maybe he should just ask?

[Inside]

Raven and Missy aren't too far away. It should be easy enough for anyone close to hear and see them.

And now Raven looks conflicted.

She moves to block Missy's path, pulling back her hood in the process. Just a child... "You made it this far because I protected you on your way here," she objects. "We should stay together. We can go to your destination, then to Umbrella, then back to the MagCave."

[Mindfreak]

Inside
"Sounds good to me."
She'll reloads her pocket incinerator units which have the Elder Sign on them.

[Lord Magtok]

[MagCave Entrance]

Divaonar is following his half-sister! And he doesn't feel much like a lie. If he were a lie he would be cake! Or... not be cake? Something. It's confusing.

The lad remains in half-drow form if only to make it less likely that someone will shoot at him.

Every new arrival just makes Magtok all the more confused, worried, and suspicious. Ilpholin's is no different, of course. Not feeling safe entrusting the screening to his machines, he decides to deal with this one personally, floating right out the door to greet the trio.

"Hi Ilpholin. Who's that drow guy guy, what happened to your spider's leg, what color was Gordon's draconic form, and where was AMEN's secondary base supposed to be?"

MagCave

The disco ball Mainframe drone speaks up.

The organics appear to be in a mournful condition. This is suboptimal. I will play a recording of sounds strung together in a narrative format. I have often observed that this can affect the mood state of organics.

His words are only heard by those who are near the drone, but when the music starts to play, it streams through the speakers all over the cave.

Music!

Gah! Magtok tries to rush forward and smack the disco ball, knowing full well it won't do anything.

"Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off! Awful choice of lyrics, Mainframe! Play something else, anything else, quick!"

[Reinholdt]

[Outside MagCave]

Could be any of those things. Maybe he should just ask?

Maybe.

Every new arrival just makes Magtok all the more confused, worried, and suspicious. Ilpholin's is no different, of course. Not feeling safe entrusting the screening to his machines, he decides to deal with this one personally, floating right out the door to greet the trio.

"Hi Ilpholin. Who's that drow guy guy, what happened to your spider's leg, what color was Gordon's draconic form, and where was AMEN's secondary base supposed to be?"

"This is one of Zee's... constructs. Ilpholin says with a scowl in reference to Divaonar.

"Mister Squiggles lost a leg while we were in Inside looking for Raril."

She shoves a thumb over her shoulder at a chrome catgirl. Said catgirl twitches one eye uncontrollably, her head ticking sometimes too when it happens. "That's Margret, your wedding present."

"I think Gordon was purple or blue or something." She doesn't really remember all that much.

"It was in Atlantis. You were in the sub with us, remember?" They even fought about male vs. female superiority. Ilpholin doesn't bring that up though.

She hadn't actually considered heading to Atlantis. Might not be a bad idea!

Except for the whole being in the water part. That's not appealing.

[Mr. Moon]

Beckett's Clinic

It is 0450 hours.

The alarm on Beckett's wristwatch goes off, and the rhythmic beeping is turned off two seconds later. The medic is still awake, unable to sleep for most of the night. Grunting and rubbing his sore eyes, Beckett forces himself to sit up. He pulls the hairband off his ponytail, freeing his blazing red hair. Running his fingers through it, he is able to hand-comb out most of the tangles from the night of tossing and turning. In a swift motion, his hair is gathered up and restored to its usual ponytail. Leaning forward and standing up, he rubs a hand over his chin and frowns at the rough stubble. There was no time for him to shave.

Rising off the couch, Beckett staggers into the kitchen.

Trog's Tavern

It is... ****. Allen had no idea what time it was.
That wasn't unusual, though.

There was no pale moonlight to filter through the windows, not in that sky. Allen lay slumped against an overturned table, his back to the charred and mangled lump of flesh and hair that he had killed earlier. An empty bottle of rum was clutched in his hand, and is released. It drops to the ground from his palm, rolling across it with a low tinkling before coming to a stop against a far wall. The cowboy grunts, forcing himself to sit up. His mind was clouded, filled with a pleasant buzz of intoxication. But then, that wasn't unusual, either. Allen tips his hat up, his face bare for the first time in his life, the secret it hid on display to an audience of none.

Pulling himself up with the table, Allen rises to his feet and staggers off behind the bar.

Beckett's Clinic

Beckett holds the steaming cup up to his face for a moment, savouring the smell of the rich, dark coffee. The moment is just that, though - short. Opening his mouth, Beckett leans back his head and gulps down the steaming cup, ignoring the heat. If anything, it served as a way to help him wake up. The caffeine would do it's part in the process as well, soon. He picks up the coffee pot and refills his own mug, as well as a second one. Holding his own in his right hand, he sips from it periodically as he makes his way down the hall. When he makes it to his room, he pauses for a moment, before shouldering the door open.

Trog's Tavern

Ah-hah! There it was! Allen clutches the aerosol cans in both hands, gauging their fullness by weight. They were some sort of spray-oil. For... cooking, he guessed. It didn't matter, though. There were three of them, that was the important thing. Holding one of them up, he tosses it up into the air. It flips once, before falling back down to be caught. Excellent. The three aerosol cans are tucked into various pockets and belt loops, each within easy reach. Another pocket is checked, and Allen smiles to himself when his hand is met with the cool plastic of a Bic lighter. With his hand resting on the cool aluminum, Allen rises to his feet and walks across the tavern. When he makes it to the door, he does not hesitate, pushing it open with with both his hands and stepping into the cool night air.

Beckett's Clinic

Beckett steps inside his room, his bare feet making no noise on the carpeted floor as he makes his way across it. The medic frowns as he looks down at Iriel, asleep on his bed. A pang of pity tugs at his gut as he places the two mugs of coffee on his night-table. The poor child. She probably didn't get any restful sleep. The medic reaches out, turning on the lamp he had left the coffee next to. The bulb flickers on and fills the room with a dull, orange light through the paper shade. As he reaches with his right hand to grasp Iriel's shoulder, a memory suddenly flashes before his mind's eye. He is back home, leaning over his daughter's bed, tucking her in as she drifts off to sleep, her twin brother's bed across from her.
He would make it back to them, Beckett promised himself. He was going to live to see them again.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, Beckett places a gentle hand on Iriel's shoulder, giving her a soft shake.
"Iriel? C'mon, it's time to wake up. We need to get moving."

Streets outside Trog's

Allen's expression is grim as he walks out into the streets. His boots click loudly against the pavement as he makes his way along the roads, his stride long and purposeful. The cowboy is alert, looking around himself constantly, on guard for an attack from some eldritch monster. The streets are littered with blood and half-devoured corpses. Allen doesn't pay them any mind, merely eyeing them to make sure they weren't going to rise to life and turn into some horrible creature. That is, until he runs almost headlong into the corpse of a young woman. She is in her late teens, dark skinned and human. Her hair is long and curled, pale brown and streaked with shots of gold. A pang of guilt tugs at his gut as he slows his pace and comes to a stop before her. He shakes his mind, trying to clear it of the memory, but it is too late. He is standing in a clean, white room, next to a clean white bed. She was gaunt and weak and tired, with barely enough strength to speak to him. A doctor, or at least the closest thing the wasteland had to a doctor, spoke to him grimly, telling him that she would live, but without an expensive surgery she would never speak or walk again.
He never made it back to her. For all he had tried, he had never seen her again.
The memory fresh in his mind, Allen lifts his head back and lets out a scream of anger, of frustration, of remorse. It echos through the streets, off of buildings and pavement and cement.
"I'm sorry, sis." He says softly, once he has calmed down. "I guess I'm not comin' home after all."

[Rebonack]

[Everywhere]

The sky is burning.

Burning with unnatural orange flames that twist and writhe within the bloated, festering clouds that have blocked out all vision of the stars. Clouds that roil with shapes best left unsubscribed.

It hurts to look up. Hurts the mind. Wounds the soul.

Tendrils of truly unimaginable size sway below the clouds, sway like the arms of a decaying jellyfish that has completely enveloped the world. And where those tendrils touch the face of the planet they have burrowed deep into the earth, corrupting the world itself.

Stone and dirt have given way to flaky mummified flesh. Trees replaced with mammoth bristles and claws and teeth. Water festering away into stagnant fens bubbling with embalming fluid.

And anyone still alive caught in these dead-lands has their life consumed and their soul imprisoned within a withered husk of an undead body. Those already dead are fortunate. At least they've already moved on.

One such tendril hangs above Inside.

How long before it descends from that burning sky?

[Outside the MagCave]

And the over-run by fishfrogmen part.

That wouldn't be very healthy either.

Divaonar looks rather indignant at Ilpholin's description of him. Which is... understandable to be quite honest. "I'm not a construct!" he pouts, stomping a little foot on the ground. "Zee's my Mother. Not my... engineer... Is a person who makes golems called an engineer? Because I'm not a golem."

He really isn't very sure.

[Earl of Purple]

Skies

Nephrim, trying to flee elsewhere, tries to dodge the clouds. Astoundingly, she's running low on ammunition, and tries to show the mirror Fear at the clouds getting too close, hoping that somehow the Object shows the cloud its greatest fear. It doesn't seem too likely, though. In her other hand is her last automatic pistol, the others discarded when she ran out of ammunition. She still has two revolvers and a one-shot pistol, but that's still not much with no reloads for any of it.

[Rebonack]

[Skies]

Yeeeah... no.

The Object has little real impact on... Whatever it is that's causing those clouds. Being up this high is probably unhealthy and even being near the clouds causes a very real risk of being corrupted into an undead Far-Spawn.

Which would be bad of course.

Maybe Nephrim should find somewhere to hide?

[Outside Trog's]

Something hears the screams.

Something in this case is a bloated, boil-covered thing that looks vaguely humanoid in shape. More a mound of rotting flesh and tumors than anything else. It slimes its way along the street, pausing now and again to pick up a corpse with greasy fingers before sliding the body into one of the pustules that adorn its form.

With another corpse consumed it begins sliming its way toward Allen. Or the body near Allen at least.

[Lost_Deep]

Beckett's Clinic

Beckett steps inside his room, his bare feet making no noise on the carpeted floor as he makes his way across it. The medic frowns as he looks down at Iriel, asleep on his bed. A pang of pity tugs at his gut as he places the two mugs of coffee on his night-table. The poor child. She probably didn't get any restful sleep. The medic reaches out, turning on the lamp he had left the coffee next to. The bulb flickers on and fills the room with a dull, orange light through the paper shade. As he reaches with his right hand to grasp Iriel's shoulder, a memory suddenly flashes before his mind's eye. He is back home, leaning over his daughter's bed, tucking her in as she drifts off to sleep, her twin brother's bed across from her.
He would make it back to them, Beckett promised himself. He was going to live to see them again.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, Beckett places a gentle hand on Iriel's shoulder, giving her a soft shake.
"Iriel? C'mon, it's time to wake up. We need to get moving."

Iriel is kind of hard to wake. Also, wet from the sweat. With no warning, she sits bolt upright in the bed, throwing the sheet and a startling amount of sweat drops.

And she screams loudly.

She looks around, her face an equal mix of confusion and terror. When she sees Beckett she almost jumps right off the bed. after a minute to remember where she was and what she was doing here, she settles down.

"Why am I all wet? And really, really thirsty?"

Also, she's cold. And she smells. Like sweat.

[Earl of Purple]

Skies

The Fallen Angel's essence is linked to another plane, giving her some immunity from something trying to drain it and replace it, though it's definately making her tired. She starts to fly lower, using all the aerial maneuveurability learnt during 3,800-odd years in the realm of Pazuzu, Demon Lord of Air, Wind and Sky.

Then she does something she thought was impossible. She falls asleep and falls from the sky. She lets go of her pistol, but not Fear. Something subconscious tells her that the Object is hers and nobody else's and it's far better to keep it that way.

[BladeofObliviom]

Inside

Well. Jakob's almost certainly screwed now.

He's decapitating a deep one when he notices the tentacle. While he's covered in protective Elder Signs and his soul is very tightly secured in a phylactery anyway, it's certainly unpleasant to be near so much eldritch energy. And, you know, Zombies.

He spots an angel falling from the sky in the distance, but can't see where it landed. Still, he begins attempting to carve through the Zombies in that direction, perhaps with the opportunity for a daring rescue!