Riverside 19

[Lord Magtok]

The Faction's Totally Secret Headquarters - Harley

Spoiler

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A short while later, headed to The Faction's base-area]

As a matter of fact, Harley was telling the truth when she said she was on her way to The Faction's base, using the address she was given by Magtok.

She's driving that car that was given/lent to her by a certain AMENite.

She, the masked-politician-of-the-people Harley Martinez, parks outside of it and, double-checking the address, walks up to it. "Hello?" she calls out, in case there's any sentries so that they can report that someone's there looking for them. "I'd like to meet with The Faction."

The Faction 'base' is just a derelict-looking gas station. The place hasn't been in service since before the war, but oddly enough, it's very stubbornly refused any and all attempts by local companies to buy it out and make use of the property. Maybe the convenience store attached to the station is just that extraordinarily successful, they don't even need to sell gas anymore? Man, I don't know; it doesn't make sense to me either.

"The Faction, huh? Can't say I've ever heard of them," claims the cyborg cashier within the itty-bitty convenience store. He looks just like a paler Magtok with a FactGas uniform, and sits on a stool placed atop a very obvious-looking trapdoor behind the register.

The Faction's Totally Secret Headquarters - Ithuriel

Something similar happens with Ithuriel, except there's no convenience store clerk at all. The place is completely empty, the closed sign is up, and trapdoor hatch is wide open, with loud rock music, a sportsball television broadcast, and the sounds of a pool table in use going on below. Ambriel doesn't let any of this oddness slow him down, grabbing a nearby stepladder and taking it with him as he hovers down through the trapdoor, so Ithuriel doesn't have to drop down nearly as far to follow him. Very considerate of him.

"C'mon, this way. Watch your head," the phony angel advises, as he waits for her to follow after him. The first room in the basement is very modestly furnished, very bland for a bunch of MagClones living together. There's a couple bunkbeds, some footlockers with names written on them in a number of very stylish and exotic fonts and colors, and soft carpet floor. The ceiling is just high enough that Ithuriel can stand upright comfortably, but I wouldn't try jumping up and down if I were her. Very good way to bruise your noggin, doing that sort of thing.

Things get a little interesting after that. There's a meeting room past the next door, a big chamber with a chalkboard, a map of Riverside on the wall, and a bunch of cheap folding tables and chairs that have been set aside for now, leaning against the wall. The map has an actual knife lodged in The General's territory, and the chalkboard has a few notes and ideas scattered across it at the moment. Nothing that makes sense out of context, though. Just odd little things like SKYSIDE REAL ESTATE, OPERATION BURNING FURY CANCELLED, INTERSECTION FALSE FLAG?, and weirdest of all, PICKLE JARS - FACT OR FICTION. That one has to be some kind of code, or maybe just some weird babble Needs wrote on the wall, right? They couldn't possibly be debating the existence of jars of cucumbers floating in brine, that's ridiculous. Everyone knows pickle jars are just an urban legend.

"We're nearly there. If there's nobody here or in the bunks, they're all hanging out in the rec room," the cyborg angel assures Ithuriel, strolling right through all this weirdness like he's been here a thousand times already. In fact, he probably has, hasn't he?

[5a Violista]

The Faction's Totally Secret Headquarters - Harley

"Oh," she replies.

Harley Martinez thinks she knows what's going on, but isn't sure what the best way to exactly proceed. Several potential ideas run through her head, but only some of them sound promising.

"Maybe I misheard. Must've just been a faction somewhere else nearby." She starts to walk down the aisles of the derelict gas station's convenience store

She stops and turns towards the cashier. "Hey, do you have any shopping baskets? While I'm here, I might as well get some shopping in."

She looks over the dust on the shelves, as if trying to decide what speck of dust would work best in a soup, or what trash would help finish the look on her car.

While exploring the shelves, she as if she's talking to herself, but loud enough for the cashier to overhear. "This place looks pretty good, especially after such an intense war. Fared much better than many of the houses and residential areas throughout the city."

She suddenly turns towards the cashier, as if she needs to ask for help. "Excuse me, can you help me?" She walks up towards the cashier, accentuating some of her...feminine features. "Do you know where you keep the tools? My neighbor's roof caught fire and I promised to help them so that they don't need to stay at my place anymore. Especially since the season is only going to get colder and I'd appreciate having my bedroom back. Unfortunately..." she bites her lower lip and looks up and down the cashier as if appraising his attractiveness and strength. Shouldn't be too hard: She found regular Magtok attractive enough. "Unfortunately, as an elected official, I never really did receive any training on construction. Do you know any strong men around who could help?"

Harley seriously hopes this Magclone isn't gay or something. All this effort would go to waste.

She turns around and goes back to the aisle, starting talking after letting the last sentences ring enough to be understood. "Really, though, that's just part of it. The whole Eastside and all the refugees really need somebody to help, a group to look up to. I honestly feel...a little overwhelmed. Wasn't expecting this sort of thing to happen when I ran for office."

Having apparently not found what she was looking for on the shelves, she goes back towards the door, towards her car. "Oh, well," she says. "I guess I should go back to my search for a faction that can help."

She desperately hopes he calls out to 'wait' or something like that. Otherwise, she'd have to drive away, completely change her appearance, and try again.

[Reinholdt]

Spoiler

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[Stu's Cell Phone]

Stu's cell phone rings. I'm sure it's an amazing ring tone, and I feel sorry for everybody who doesn't have the chance to hear it.

When (if? hopefully he answers) he answers, it's Harley Zorzo. "Hello, fellow government employee and roguishly handsome flower," she says, to signal that this is Eastside government business and not a 'hey do you want to hang out and watch movies at my place' call; "This is City Councilor Harley Martinez."

She pauses, gives him time to respond (even if the call went to voicemail! How considerate is she?) "I have heard from an anonymous supporter -" it was Magtok "- about a friendly Faction who really wants legitimacy and I'm headed there right now to convince them to help rebuild and help with relief efforts."

She continues: "While I'm speaking with that Faction, could you find out how this group can help out with the rebuilding and relief and, if possible, text me details or contact info for other government leaders or whatever? I'd really owe you one."

If Stueven is anything like his cousin Stu, he could definitely use the "I need contact info" as an acceptable pickup line to get somebody's phone number, if he doesn't already have it. I mean, I would definitely use it.

[Stu's Cell Phone]

The ringtone is pretty amazing. Everyone who didn't hear it should be sad.

Did someone get the wrong number? Stueven isn't a government employee. Though he is the only roguishly handsome flower in the Nexus, so it must be ri- "Oh hi Harley." Surely Stueven already has Harley's contact info! He thinks. Maybe. Maybe not. He would be the type to have it and lose it.

"I'm with the new mayor right now if you want to talk to her." That would surely expedite things! Though that would leave Stueven without Harely's number. This is a tragedy. A travesty. If only she had called five minutes earlier when he wasn't near Felandria.

Or you know, he had been bright enough to recognize and take the perfect opportunity handed to him. That would have been a much better start.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Faction HQ]

The whole place looks very "lived in", doesn't it? Possibly not quite as sleek and tech-y as Ithuriel was expecting. They are still MagClones, right? Whatever made them all go rogue didn't strip them of their intelligence and their creativity, right? Where's all the gadgets and gizmos and lasgeese?

Could just be further back. Could be something neat hiding in those footlockers, maybe? Or maybe the whole renegade Magtoks fleeing for their lives thing meant they didn't exactly have much resources when they came here. You did remember that bit, right Ithuriel? And the bit where you helped set Ambriel down this path and you're therefore in some way to blame for any misery they've suffered and-

No, no, let's not go down that path of thought again.

"It's, um-" Come on Ithuriel, say something nice! You can think of it! "Quite well hidden, isn't it? You guys did a good job of finding a spot for your secret base." Close enough.

[5a Violista]

[Stu's Cell Phone]

See, if Stueven is really clever, he could leverage this opportunity to get the phone number of every government employee he ever meets from now on.
...
Or, after the call is over he can just look in the call logs and look for the most recent number. That could work, too.

"Really? That's great," Harley says. "You can hand it over to her right now. You're the best."

Maybe they could catch up after Felandria's done with the phone.

[Felandria]

Felandria is about to respond to Stueven when the Hunters hand over their badges and start talking down to her like everything is her fault.

Hey, look, I know you need to take care of your loved ones, but you don’t need to quit your job to do it.

Go be with your families, your badges will be waiting if you want them back.

But don’t act like I didn’t do anything, I killed two giant monsters.

And......

Then she is handed a cell phone by Stueven.

One second......

Hello?

[5a Violista]

[Stu's Cell Phone]

While listening to Stueven through the cell, she manages to overhear that there sounds to be a pretty heated conversation happening on the other side.

"Hello, Mayor, this is councilwoman Harley Martinez," she says, trying to place whose voice is the mayor's. It sounds familiar...but it's hard to place voices over phones.

If the flower's with the new mayor, he's probably going by Stu but just in case, Harley doesn't say his name (she doesn't know Stueven, either, because she hasn't heard that name yet). "I'm sure you're busy at the moment, so I'll be brief. I heard from a trusted anonymous source about a Riverside group who would be able to help Eastside rebuild, and I'm headed there right now to negotiate. From what I heard, they'll probably want publicity and legitimacy more than anything else."

So, now the important question: "What sort of offers am I authorized to give? And what sort of resources do we have available? And, finally, do you have any recommendations for the negotiation?"

Harley, who is currently driving a car, now waits for the mayor to respond. She would give some recommendations, but she's busy paying attention to the road.

[Halae]

[Among the Rubble]

In the aftermath of the disaster of the Riverside invasion, there are a number of places that have not yet been cleared, cleaned of rubble and most certainly not rebuilt. In the collapsed ruins of a warehouse, something low in importance enough that nobody will likely bother to check it for several more days, motion stirs. Concrete blocks are being moved, but not by someone on the surface. It would appear that someone is digging their way out of the rubble, despite it having been days since the collapse.

As a cement block crumbles, a long, chitinous hand forces its way forth from under the rubble, and a second moves to help the second push aside a block, revealing an opening into a forgotten cellar below. the figure that emerges - dirty, covered in concrete dust, but whole - is an unusual creature. Standing about six feet tall, the creature has a humanoid torso covered in teal chitin that goes over its entire body. The head is mouthless, though a pair of mandibles sit next to the chin, and a large and spiked head crest is upon its head, with a series of thick tendrils hanging from the back of the head under the crest, giving the illusion of hair. Its lower body is almost like a spider, with a pair of front-legs that are almost like pedipalps and six long, segmented legs supporting a bulky lower body that some might even think of as a thorax, giving it an appearance somewhere along the lines of a hybrid between some great arachnid and a human.

It's also deeply exhausted, as is evident by the way it's shaking, stagging, and breathing raggedly after its exertions in freeing itself from the rubble.

[Reinholdt]

[Among the Rubble]

Whhr-thunk Whhr-thunk Whhr-thunk.

Watch out! It's a giant mecha-tank thing! Well a giant dire spider in a mecha-tank suit at any rate. Mecha Squiggles has a lot of work to do, especially in regards to his home in Southside. He's not great for stealthy rescue missions, but he can at least make sure those frozen pipes that burst are repaired by the time Ilpholin gets free. So for now he's just passing through, though that hasn't prevented him from stopping on occasion to help someone out, especially if emergency heavy lifting might be involved.

Which is what Mister Squiggles does now! Just, minus the lifting part. Rather, the massive spider stops and chitters in a half-mechanical spider voice asking in classic spider language if the creature requires any assistance.

The creature looks like it does, but it's imperative to ask first.

[Hattish Thing]

[Among the Rubble]

Thousands of miles away, within the confines of the tower he had built, a bastion of solitary undeath within an irradiated valley once both green and full of life, the destruction had called to him. It was a destruction he knew well, one which reminded him so thoroughly of the last days before his city had fallen, before the wicked patron he once followed had taken all that he had fought so viciously to construct. It was time, it seemed, to investigate these Nexian peoples, to determine how along these cities were, down the path to societal collapse and decay, that frightening path by which all societies must travel, eventually.

The ritual itself was somewhat time-consuming, requiring a number of strange and unusual ingredients as well as a seemingly excessive amount of blood, which was generously "donated" by a travelling caravan a day or so away from Malkeziathek's cancer-tower. Once the phrases were uttered and the components were utilized, a quick dip into the blood-basin was all that was required. By the time the magic had completed its transformation, Malkeziathek emerged appearing much as he did during his days of youth, only somehow enhanced by the powerful transmutative magics of the ritual.

Scrying magics made the act of teleporting into the city itself a straightforward prospect.

--

He had wandered Riverside for several hours, ignoring many similar scenes, until finally, he came across the chitinous entity buried all within the rubble of some abandoned warehouse. As he draws closer, the figure steps out of a nearby alleyway, relying on the curious, glossy spear he carries in order to navigate the worst of the rubble.

Noticing the strange, mechanical... thing across the way, the figure elects to stand his ground, not approaching but rather staring forward, supernaturally attractive face half-shrouded in shadow.

--

Wavy locks of well-groomed, light blonde hair cascade down over the man's attractive, angled face, flowing over his broad, angular shoulders, while comfortingly deep, multicolored eyes peer out at the world around him; a luscious chocolate brown as well as a bright, iron-gray. His unusual, beige skin is perfect and unblemished, suggesting a combination of ethnicities, with darkened areas around the eyes which cause his heterochromatic orbs to stand out. The man, likely no more than twenty-five, possesses bold cheekbones which frame his face, as well as full, glossy lips set into a frown.

The mysterious figure is dressed in what appears to be a slightly ragged gray suit which clings tightly to his form, layered below a dark leather trenchcoat, all worn and battered, as if only recently taken from another. Finally, a black cloak crafted of some similar material falls over his shoulders, it's clasp hidden beneath a dark red scarf, the same shade as his gloves.

Without gesturing or speaking, the figure stares forward, turning his head to the side in an almost curious sort of fashion.

[Halae]

[Among the Rubble]

The chitinous being, unfortunately, looks at the spider-tank uncomprehendingly - it seems it doesn't understand the spider-speak. Instead, it begins talking in the language of humans, despite having no mouth, its voice sounding distinctly feminine, "You're some kind of Terran construct, aren't you? Can you..." A grimace of swallowed pride, "Can you take me somewhere safe? Where I can recover?"

Based on her tone of voice, the not-arachnid creature clearly doesn't find this likely.

And then, she notices the human. Suddenly, this situation has gotten more interesting - both of these beings appear dangerous, and the chitinous creature is in no position to defend herself should a fight break out.

[Reinholdt]

[Among the Rubble]

Mister Squiggles chitters! Somewhere safe? Well of course! Mostly. Probably. It'll be indoors at least and certainly safer than most of Riverside right now. He has a zero idea what a Terran construct is though. He's not really a construct, though, but he understands her confusion. There's most of a real spider in here.

The spider tank skitters forward slowly, turning itself so its back is near the creature, giving it the opportunity to climb aboard if it so chooses. Probably a little awkward. Well a lot awkward. But if it can manage it'll make the trip easier for the creature at least. If it can walk on its own and indicates as such, well that's ok too! Mister Squiggles will just start leading the way in that situation.

He does take note of the unusually attractive man. Well attractive to creatures that understand such concepts as human beauty. The man is noteworthy primarily in how he doesn't look dirty and scratched up like everyone else who just went through a battle. A fresh arrival to the area. There are a few of those about, growing in number. Mister Squiggles doesn't really think too much of it, but he chitters towards him all the same. Was the man also in need of a safe haven? He doesn't look it, but it'd be kinda rude to ask one person and not the other.

[Hattish Thing]

[Among the Rubble]

Unable to fully comprehend the movements of the only partially organic spider, "Morgan" spends several seconds analyzing it's movement, attempting to identifying the material via several detective cantrips, ultimately failing to acquire more of an understanding of the half-mechanical arachnid-thing. Turning away from that particular entity, to the one speaking in a somewhat more traditional seeming language, the figure taps at a multi-faceted necklace worn beneath his scarf, all glittering rubies and deep onyx gemstones. Doing so, when paired with a whispered incantation, allows for easy magical translation.

Recognizing the situation for what it was and now fully capable of understanding the spider-tank, "Morgan" nods a little when the creature speaks to him in that strange, squeaking sort of way.

--

Not quite accustomed to possessing the parts necessary for biomechanical communication, the figure remains quiet.

[Halae]

[Among the Rubble]

It's a bit of an awkward fit, but it seems the chitinous woman-thing understood Mr. Squiggles' explanation well enough to climb on his back, "Thank you, ah, Terran creature."

She's clearly exhausted, as she may even need help getting onto Mr. Squiggles' back. Given her mass of legs, sitting on the spider's back is going to be awkward all around, but she manages it nonetheless. She looks at Morgan clearly in confusion, unsure of what to make of the man, but he also nodded. That was a Terran motion for confirmation, wasn't it? Was his vocals damaged?

[Gullara]

[The Lotus Gardens - Approaching]

The pixie sniffs loudly (for a pixie), but doesn't add anything else. She is letting her cries speak for her!

The bear continues sitting there, looking at Archera. Maybe they should continue on? They were going to imprison the pixie somewhere, weren't they? Or perhaps interrogate her right away. Maybe she knows something about the body-switching curse?

[The Lotus Gardens - Approaching]

"There's two roles you can play," Wenomir says. "Captured informant or a demon collaborator executed to bolster people's morale. Take your pick." He then looks up at Archera. "Come on. We need to get her to the closest thing that remains from this city's authorities and lock her up somewhere." He gestures towards the Gardens.

[The Lotus Gardens - Approaching]

Archera's frown deepens. With a flick of the wrist her prisoner is drawn closer to her again. "I'll remind you that she's my prisoner, and I won't be hearing any more talk of execution." She says. She hardly knows Wenomir from a hole in the ground. How should she know how seriously to take him here? Best be more cautious.

[Reinholdt]

[Among the Rubble -> Xar'cha Residence]

Mister Squiggles does what he can to make the transition easier. Once the creature is secure upon his back, he starts moving again, chittering only a light confirmation at Morgan, not entirely sure what to make of his lack of a vocal reply. Well not much to do but to walk anyways.

Walk, in particular to a large building that looks like a spider motif from overhead. There's great pains taken to not walk on the grass despite the obvious frost damage to the ground. The front door seems secure enough but as they approach, there's crackle and sputter from the speaker near the clearly shattered camera as if someone was trying to talk but failed to get through. Mister Squiggles chitters to himself. The outside communications interface is probably all shot. Hopefully just that. The monitoring AI probably hasn't gone rogue on them. The door isn't opening though. Well that make sense since the AI likely can't see or hear them. Or the door is jammed too. Yikes this is a mess. Still that means no one got inside while they were away.

Hmm. Mister Squiggles skitters a few steps to the left and forces open a panel in the wall that's not supposed to be opened normally. Still, within, there's a port that one of his mechanical bits inserts into and after a few seconds the door pops open. Most of the way. Chittering a grumble of annoyance, the mecha spider goes to the oversized doors and uses his front legs to force them open the rest of the way so everyone who isn't Morgan sized can fit inside. At least he got to disable the entry-way traps.

Inside is some basic furniture designed for greeting people and a lot of darkness since all the lights are broken. Mister Squiggles chitters, assuring them that things will be much nicer further underground where the building is designed to be much more insulated from damage. Especially in the medical bay they have, where he personally suggests they go to first. He'll be back to deal with this mess upstairs later.

[Morty]

[The Lotus Gardens - Approaching]

Wenomir responds with a frown of his own. It doesn't look quite so menacing in Anika's body but he does what he can.

"...fine. Just take her to what's left of the city's leadership. She is the only prisoner we have."

If Archera follows, Wenomir will also contact Electra again.

"The battle is over. The demons withdrew, taking the Malechenar castle with them, and AMEN decided not to take any territory in the city but capture a woman named Ilpholin."

[UncleWolf]

Jezebel's Manor

"I feel like grox **** despite having been out for two days." Jezebel admits, holding her head in her hands as she sits on the edge of her bed, trash can between her feet. Her body hurt, her head hurt, and even more importantly, her heart hurt. Waking up had come with a number of painful realizations. First, being out for two days had done an absolute number on her body, leaving her weak, famished, with an ugly taste in her mouth, and painful aches all over. It'd taken her almost an hour to get up to her feet earlier enough for her to head to the bathroom to take stock of herself. For all the divine power she'd had pumped through herself, the pain relief and the mending to her wounds had only been temporary at best. Running through the streets barefoot had meant her feet had been cut up badly, then there was all manner of internal tearing her muscles had taken from the woman straining herself. Her left arm felt incredibly weak in particular, and then there was the matter of her impalement.

The wound was patched inside and out, but it was certainly going to take a long time for her to be back up to doing anything more strenuous than walking. Even breathing too hard could potentially reopen the tears in her lung.

The second realization was that now she was human. She was now completely and utterly mortal, even if she was a mutated one. the horns, tail, scales on her back...even the extra length to her tongue were all signs of the stain Chaos left upon her. Despite all of this though, despite the wounds and hurt and mutation...Jezebel's mind felt like it was truly her own for the first time in ages. There wasn't a nagging daemon trying to influence her every decision.

It was a pity then that she couldn't trust it.

"It happens. Don't worry ma'am, you'll be back up to par in no time. Now, let's run this down again. Who was with you when you found the slime?"

Jezebel sighs, shaking her head before standing up to limp over far enough to get a drink of water. Charles had been drilling her for hours, hammering information into her head so she could act as if everything was normal. "I didn't get it wrong the last four times, Charles. I'm not going to get it wrong this time." She points out before giving a cough as soon as she takes a drink of her water. "By the Warp, I feel like ****." She complains before slumping down on her bed once more. Her manservant gives her absolutely no sympathy, having a broken arm himself, and just reaches over to pat her shoulder with a warm and wet washcloth. After putting it on her face, she gives another sigh. "Thank you, Charles. Sorry, I know you mean well, but...you keep skirting around my own questions as well. How. Many." She asks, finally commanding him to answer.

The older gentleman sighs tiredly as he puts a picture of Ariel and Sergei aside so he can pull out his dataslate. "Forty-nine confirmed dead by last count. Twenty-two still missing. Of the forty-nine, twenty-four were killed by the beam, another twelve were psykers who couldn't handle the strain of being cut off repeatedly, ten were killed in direct combat among the border, two simply had heart trouble and couldn't handle the stress, and the last one appears to have been a deliberate murder but so far the culprit has yet to be caught. It was Tara Stonehammer, the dwarven taverngirl with the red hair. A letter has already been sent to her next of kin." He explains grimly with a sigh. "Look, Jezebel, this is all a distraction. You ought to be recov-" "Don't. I've already been out for far too long and I need to get not just myself but others on the road to recovery."

A not-quite-withering glare from her servant is all it takes for Jezebel to give a sigh and a small nod. "But I do promise I'll take it slow and easy. I can't just sit here though and you know that as well as I. But for now, if you don't mind, I need to shower and replace all these bandages." And that, of course, was far easier said than done. Scissors to remove the bandages, a chair placed in the shower to keep her from having to stand and strain herself too much, and a very very soft sponge on the end of a stick. After the hour under warm water, she felt far more human than she had been in a while. If she had broken down sobbing a few times at the pain and the sight of herself...well, that was a secret to be held between just her and the drain. Once she's done, she hesitates at the foggy mirror. Mirrors and her had a...shaky relationship at best, and she was always afraid of what she'd see in them. Still, she couldn't very well put her bandages back on or take stock of her injuries without being able to see herself. When the mirror is cleaned, it is almost unavoidable that Jezebel would flinch at the sight. Slowly, meticulously, she takes stock as she probes her wounds and bandages them.

Cuts and scrapes on both feet. Over-stressed and...burned left arm from the armor and braking that one time. Three broken ribs. Shattered and replaced sternum. I think there was at least a punctured lung but that seems a bit better now... A turn to show her back makes her wince again, showing her that there was indeed an ugly wound held shut by staples and stitches just like her front. It would leave a hideous scar. So much for backless dresses...actually, no, Warp take anyone who complains. I've earned the right to show that. Still, keep going Jezzy. Take full stock. You know the drill. This isn't the first time you've been badly hurt and you need to know what you're dealing with. You've now got your tail and cute horns back, so you've got that going for you. The snake scaling along your shoulders is weird feeling but not unpleasant. At least they aren't the sharp kind of scales. Eyes...your eyes are shattered, Jezzy. But you already knew that. Doesn't seem to impair vision but your irises are fractured in appearance. Windows to the soul being what they are. Must have been that damnable weapon I blocked with my arm. Likely why my arm looks lightly burned in the mirror but not in reality. Probably why I've forgotten so much...

It takes a few moments for the lavender woman to calm down and settle, but eventually she reopens her eyes and sticks out her tongue. It was the last of the mutations she'd been inflicted with by the daemon she'd had inside her, but even she couldn't help but giggle as she realizes the sheer length of the tongue she sports now. The giggling doesn't stop as she examines it further. At least with so much against her she could find more than a bit of humor in this.

Well. We'll just have to tell Charles to make sure we keep a bit more toothpaste on hand.

It takes her the better part of another half hour for her to bind all of her wounds, and while she had complimented Ilpholin on her mummy costume, she hadn't really expected to end up looking like she was half-dressed as one. "On the bright side, the chest wrapping means no bras for now. Even if it hurts like The Warp." She mutters before picking up her phone. "Now to try and soothe someone else's worries." She holds up her phone, selfie style, and smiles with her tongue stuck out before snapping a picture. A bit forced perhaps, but it meant she was certainly feeling far better than she should. Her picture gets sent out to Cessie with a message simply saying "Up and moving and feeling better."

Showered, rebandaged, mentally collected, and clothed, Jezebel departs her room. She had a speech to prepare for and a pair of children to hug and reassure. Even if those two children were much bigger than her last memory of them told her that they should be...

[Nova_Eclipse]

The Glade

"I see. How is Jezebel? Is it safe to return to the city for the musician?" Electra asks. She's pretty sure Ilpholin is the same Ilpholin she met when she lived in Southside, but now is not the time to mention that. Instead, she looks to Topaz.

"Sounds like the fighting's over. The demons and AMEN have both withdrawn, and taken Malechenar castle with them."

[Hattish Thing]

[Among the Rubble -> Xar'cha Residence]

Slowly, the figure draped all in relatively clean but slightly anachronistic clothing follows after the pair, taking his time, more or less. Clambering over rubble and ruin with the aid of his glossy gray spear, tipped with glittering onyx rune-blade, "Morgan" remains relatively calm and collected, hardly seeming to mind as his boots and cloak became shrouded all in dust and grime. Rather than focusing purely upon the arachnid and its newest rescue, the figure glances about for the duration of the journey, further taking in the wreckage all around, an expression of innocent curiosity upon his attractive, slightly tanned face.

Once their destination has seemingly been reached, "Morgan" steps down from atop a nearest block, all that remains of a nearby pillar, failing to notice a rusted rod of rebar sticking out of the ground. The sharpened end glides effortlessly through the figure's boot, piercing the leather before rupturing flesh, puncturing through the top of the boot as pressure and weight is continuously applied by the relatively unaware spellcaster. As pain roars up his leg, "Morgan" glances down, tears of pain forming despite the utterly ambivalent expression upon his face, as if wholly unaware of the gruesomeness of the wound before him.

Glancing forward, the figure merely attempts to walk forward, finding himself unable to do so due to the severity by which his foot had been impaled. Finally, rather than resort to magic, "Morgan" merely reaches down with a hand, leaning upon his spear, and forcibly tears his foot upwards, grunting somewhat as flesh is torn and blood pools forth, spurting about into the dust.

--

Though tears stream forth from his eyes, the figure merely continues to move forward, entirely unconcerned with the fact that blood was continuously pooling out of the wound in his foot. Should the robotic arachnid continue to widen the doors open for him, the figure attempts to step forward into the structure.

Once inside, he nods in response to the arachnid-tank, his impeccable darkvision ensuring that he remains relatively comfortable in the darkness.

[Zefir]

I guess that's true. But I think they're prepared enough to not get lost.
"Thanks." grumbles the orc.
They head off. Second path to the right, off towards the church!

[DMside]

The streets are filled with workers. most people are switching glass snce that is something even the walls of DMside couldn't prevent. a few construction robots get their repairs on the streets and will be sent out to repair the nearby buildings. The 'Southside' Fraction willl sure notice that, but as said non is armed with weapons. (well why should they technical a construction robot got enougth tools to defend himself)

The church ground seems busy as well, but there appears to be just the normal workload. Since people have been evakuated quickly the number of dead or hurt people is near zero and without any direct attacks there isn't much harm to the buildings either. The two of them will be lead to a side building filled with offices. Mia will wait for them at the entrance, wearing her high priestress dress,

"Hello. How may I help you?" she says friendly.

[Recaiden]

('Weapon'? No, this is just for cutting through debris!)

"Greetings, Priestess Mechanicus, on behalf of the General." The Commandant greets Mia.
"We're checking in across the city after the battle, to assess the damage and plan next steps."
"It's good that you're safe. Not that we doubted that."

[Morty]

The Glade

"I see. How is Jezebel? Is it safe to return to the city for the musician?" Electra asks. She's pretty sure Ilpholin is the same Ilpholin she met when she lived in Southside, but now is not the time to mention that. Instead, she looks to Topaz.

"Sounds like the fighting's over. The demons and AMEN have both withdrawn, and taken Malechenar castle with them."

"Jezebel is in a bad shape, but alive. It should be safe to return now," Wenomir says.

[Lord Magtok]

The Faction's Totally Secret Headquarters - Harley

Spoiler

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The Faction's Totally Secret Headquarters - Harley

"Oh," she replies.

Harley Martinez thinks she knows what's going on, but isn't sure what the best way to exactly proceed. Several potential ideas run through her head, but only some of them sound promising.

"Maybe I misheard. Must've just been a faction somewhere else nearby." She starts to walk down the aisles of the derelict gas station's convenience store

She stops and turns towards the cashier. "Hey, do you have any shopping baskets? While I'm here, I might as well get some shopping in."

She looks over the dust on the shelves, as if trying to decide what speck of dust would work best in a soup, or what trash would help finish the look on her car.

While exploring the shelves, she as if she's talking to herself, but loud enough for the cashier to overhear. "This place looks pretty good, especially after such an intense war. Fared much better than many of the houses and residential areas throughout the city."

She suddenly turns towards the cashier, as if she needs to ask for help. "Excuse me, can you help me?" She walks up towards the cashier, accentuating some of her...feminine features. "Do you know where you keep the tools? My neighbor's roof caught fire and I promised to help them so that they don't need to stay at my place anymore. Especially since the season is only going to get colder and I'd appreciate having my bedroom back. Unfortunately..." she bites her lower lip and looks up and down the cashier as if appraising his attractiveness and strength. Shouldn't be too hard: She found regular Magtok attractive enough. "Unfortunately, as an elected official, I never really did receive any training on construction. Do you know any strong men around who could help?"

Harley seriously hopes this Magclone isn't gay or something. All this effort would go to waste.

She turns around and goes back to the aisle, starting talking after letting the last sentences ring enough to be understood. "Really, though, that's just part of it. The whole Eastside and all the refugees really need somebody to help, a group to look up to. I honestly feel...a little overwhelmed. Wasn't expecting this sort of thing to happen when I ran for office."

Having apparently not found what she was looking for on the shelves, she goes back towards the door, towards her car. "Oh, well," she says. "I guess I should go back to my search for a faction that can help."

She desperately hopes he calls out to 'wait' or something like that. Otherwise, she'd have to drive away, completely change her appearance, and try again.

Vlad sighs in exasperation. His libido more or less died when he became a bloodsucking creature of darkness, but that doesn't mean he can't tell what Harley's doing here. Who told her The Faction could be found here? Who's the lousy scumbag who leaked their location to the former leader of AMEN? I mean, Harley's not that scary herself, but who knows who she might be in contact with? Who might she accidentally leak that information to, not realizing her compatriots would gladly burn all of The Faction's interests to the ground, given half a chance? What was the point of living in a basement under a gas station if people were going to find us this easily?

"Is that Harley up there, Vlad? You just going to let her walk away like that?" a voice calls up from the trapdoor below Vlad's feet, severely compromising their organization's secrecy and security even further.

"Alright, alright, Raptor Christ. Yes, Harley, fine, this is the Faction base. What do you need, how can we help?" Vlad begrudgingly asks, stepping off the trapdoor so a MagClone in a neon green cyberpunk bodysuit can climb the ladder below and ascend to the surface. He's Haz, the guy who was speaking in green just a moment ago. Whereas Vlad is Magtok-but-pale-and-with-pointier-teeth, Haz is...well, he's a number of things, but the most important is probably his unabashed and utterly shameless obsession with all things military. He modeled himself after stories and legends he heard about Remnant's special forces, put himself through all kinds of drills and training exercises and workout regimens, and spent a number of years in the extremely deadly emergency task force known as Mystery Meat, where he and his squad were called in any time anything in the MagCave went rogue, haywire, homicidal, eldritch, or otherwise became too dangerous and terrifying for the MagClone responsible to resolve the issue on their own. Given Magtok's nature and the kind of mad science he was conducting back then, it should come as no surprise that the Mystery Meat squad always had something to do. Maybe that's how Haz got so much buffer than the average MagClone. This is the one and only MagClone Harley's seen who looks like he's actually been to a gym at some point in his life.

The Faction's Totally Secret Headquarters - Ithuriel

Spoiler

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[Faction HQ]

The whole place looks very "lived in", doesn't it? Possibly not quite as sleek and tech-y as Ithuriel was expecting. They are still MagClones, right? Whatever made them all go rogue didn't strip them of their intelligence and their creativity, right? Where's all the gadgets and gizmos and lasgeese?

Could just be further back. Could be something neat hiding in those footlockers, maybe? Or maybe the whole renegade Magtoks fleeing for their lives thing meant they didn't exactly have much resources when they came here. You did remember that bit, right Ithuriel? And the bit where you helped set Ambriel down this path and you're therefore in some way to blame for any misery they've suffered and-

No, no, let's not go down that path of thought again.

"It's, um-" Come on Ithuriel, say something nice! You can think of it! "Quite well hidden, isn't it? You guys did a good job of finding a spot for your secret base." Close enough.

"Oh, we rotate through a few places, actually. One of the local governments isn't terribly fond of us, so we try not to stick around anywhere long enough for them to start connecting the dots. It's actually really inconvenient," Ambriel explains, pushing open the door to the rec room, where Magtok is being held at gunpoint and pushed up against a wall by another MagClone with a green eye, cheery Thanksmas sweater, and a glare so intense he probably lights matches just by scowling at them really hard.

"Oh hi Ithuriel. Didn't expect to see you here. How's Inside doing?" Mag asks, waving cheerily at the angel cop, even as the other clone's handgun is brusquely pushed up against the side of his head. Oh jeez, oh hell, what in gods' names did they just walk in on? Everyone else is crowded around the two, waiting to see how this will play out. There's the squid robot Ambriel mentioned, floating over on the left. Intrepid, the team's masked vigilante, is hanging about on the right, holding a pool cue and boredly waiting for this all to blow over so they can get back to the game. An exceptionally pale Magtok with some kind of cherry cocktail (at least I think that's what it is. It's just a cherry cocktail, right?) turns towards the two angels who just showed up and shakes his head, holding up a finger to signal that they should wait one minute, while the clones settle this matter for themselves. What the hell is this matter, though? What's Magtok doing here of all places? Wouldn't he have known he'd be this unwelcome and unpopular if he showed his face around here?

[5a Violista]

The Faction's Totally Secret Headquarters - Harley

On the one hand, Harley is disappointed that that didn't work as intended.

On the other hand, she's glad it worked out in the end, regardless. She hasn't had to do something like that since she worked as an assassin, so she was afraid it would totally fall flat. So she smiles a bit, before wiping that smile away and turning back towards the station and the Vlad and Haz.

And.
"Goes to the gym" is actually a good look, she decides.

Since this is exactly the opportunity she was looking for, this is great! She takes a couple steps back towards the two. "So both of you probably already know," she says, "that I was elected as one of the councilors in Eastside." At least, it seems reasonable that they would know. And even if they don't, acting like they know makes her seem more confident in their competence, which should help suggest she thinks they're the right group for what she's asking for. "And Eastside was hit particularly hard by the demons."

Harley prepares herself, because this is the part where she asks them for help: "Not long ago" - literally, on the drive here: thanks Stu - "I spoke with the new mayor of Eastside and we discussed some of the things Eastside needs to help with the refugees, the rebuilding, and the relocation."

What did Magtok tell her would help convince The Faction? Oh, right: emphasize how much the people need help; and, the group is looking for legitimacy.

So, she tells them what they'd likely want to hear: "The people of Eastside really do need help rebuilding. Some peoples' houses have burned, others were destroyed. Lots of people are in shelters, and likely separated from their families."

"I've been looking for groups that could officially work with the government to help rebuild."

Then, she adds, (who doesn't like getting their ego padded?) "I figured I'd start with the groups that seem competent and trustyworthy first, so I haven't had an opportunity to visit other groups yet."

[Zefir]

('Weapon'? No, this is just for cutting through debris!)

"Greetings, Priestess Mechanicus, on behalf of the General." The Commandant greets Mia.
"We're checking in across the city after the battle, to assess the damage and plan next steps."
"It's good that you're safe. Not that we doubted that."

[DMside]

"High priestress." Mia corrects the Commandant.
"As you can see we have been lucky. The demons didn't do much in Southside and the impacts have been far enougth away to be of no harm for us." she says pointing around he unharmed ground. "Would you be in need of a helping hand? after all you have been hit directly. And may i guess your General is all rght? Otherwise he couldn't send me a greeting."

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Faction HQ - Ithuriel]

Oh, hey, Magtok's here.

...

Oh. Magtok's here. Why is Magtok here? "Hi Magtok. Didn't expect to see you here either. Got yourself into another little situation, I see?" She doesn't really pay attention to the 'tok telling her to wait a minute, instead strolling over so she can deliver a quick slap to Magtok's face. Probably putting a little more force into it than intended, might shake a circuit or two loose, make his eye roll a bit. "That's for- uh, something. I'm sure you deserved it. Something about discussing why you're a jerk with Ambriel, oh yeah- for threatening to do evil stuff because I actually tried to connect with you over a drink. How dare someone care about your feelings, huh?"

Assuming she's allowed to get away with that, she'll step back and lean against the wall. "Hi guys, I'm Ithuriel, Ambriel's very real girlfriend who really was stuck in deadtime for ages, so if you ever made fun of him for talking about "that angel he once met", I expect you all to be nice and apologise. Also while I definitely owed him a slap, I think I probably also owe him a favour for pointing me in Ambriel's direction, so could you kindly explain what's going on here and how we resolve this without you killing him?"

[Recaiden]

"High Priestess, of course, sorry 'bout that." It's not like we see many normal priests of Deus Mechanicus. Just Mia.

"Quite lucky. As you noticed that the demons did attack our portion of Southside with that second-wave meteor and storm."
"Now, in the past we've been enemies, but we think, and I hope you agree, that the demons are a greater threat, a danger to the whole city. Now is a time to work together. If you can offer any help with rebuilding, we would all appreciate it."
The Commandant nods.

"She made it through the fight - you know plenty of people didn't, bless them. She's busy running the recovery, as you can imagine."
That isn't exactly the same as saying that The General is 'all right'. Actually she was quite badly injured. But there's no reason to advertise that fact.

[Nova_Eclipse]

The Glade

"Well, that's something, at least. I should be along shortly, then." Electra nods to herself, and looks to Topaz again.

"Some good news, too. It seems the Mayor's been injured, but she's alive. Wenomir says it's safe to return to the city now, so if you'd like to go, I wouldn't mind teleporting you."

[Gullara]

Riverside Hospital - Pre-Invasion

Uh, yeah, I am trained as a surgeon, yes. Nigel says, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feelings. This is all just magic. Quicker it's over the quicker he can never deal with any of this nonsense again. Was it really important to have that throb in the back of his head? What was that fish person saying about the candles being... far worse? They wouldn't just poison him in front of the administrator, surely. It's fine, it'll all be fine. Plus isn't he supposed to like... think about his training, or something? He should have asked more questions about this.

[Northside Hospital - Pre-Invasion]

The painful pressure in the back of Nigel's head suddenly increases substantially. He might find that thoughts and memories related to his training and past experience come to him unbidden. They may be overwhelming, totally supplanting his regular thinking. With some mental fortitude he might be able to push them down, but is this what Vax wanted? She's merely watching him now.