Inside 67: Shadow over Innside

[Artemis97]

[Renault's Shop]

There's plenty of room in the wagon for the box and Grant's backpack. Renault's pack is already there, along with feed for the horses, and some wooden contraptions which grant might recognize as sluiceboxes. There's also some shovels, picks, a hatchet, and a pair of fishing poles.

Renault wonders if it's one of those fancy modern tents he's seen campers use in the Nexus. His was a much more rustic design, made from waterproofed canvas.

[Deathkeeper]

[Renault's Shop]

Grant hops into the wagon once things are packed.
"So, we're just looking for shiny things? The kind of things normally in rivers sometimes?" he asks.
Never know with wizards. Maybe they're actually looking for water dragons or something. Well not literally, but he hadn't expected normal gold panning.

[Artemis97]

[Renault's Shop]

Renault hops up into the driver's seat and gives the reigns a flick. The horses begin moving through the city's streets.

"Quite so. Gold in this case." Renault explains. "I know a good spot, already, it'll just take time to get there and gather things. There's no real shortcut to it, without expending a lot of mana. I could just, you know, summon it out of the ground, but that's very rough on the environment, let alone myself. Disturbs the natural way of things. Also if you're not careful, you could find a pocket of Ashlan crystals or the like, and then you're in real trouble." The elf's blue eyes go a little wide as he says this.

Soon enough they're through the city gate and on to outside.

[CosmicHobbit]

[Into the Dungeon]

Lynx nods. "Pretty much the same here. I've always loved the thrill of...wait, did you say spawned?" Lynx simply walks with his cane, unconcerned about running into any undead here.

[Purple Eagle]

[the Furry Mob]

He didn't see that one coming. If Brun was the daughter of a mobster she should absolutely know the dangers of being one. And he thinks the probability of the car crash that took her parents' lives being an orchestrated assassination is rather high. He probably should do something about this girl. "Ii it's nice you want to pprotect me, Brun. But you don't nnneed to to do that." That fox girl is looking so down, she may need a hug. But he sure won't hug children he just met, and he has more serious things to say. He leans forwards. "Look I I don't d-doubt your fa-fa-father was a good fa-father. But mobsters are rarely g-good peopple. Chances are hhhe did some nasty things. And and and chances are, if you bec-become llike him, that means yyou're gonna be d-dead too. Before you're 30."

Smorre, sitting opposite of Brun and facing the front of house, can see the elf coming. But he doesn't assume any ill intent from him, because if you assume everyone hurrying in your general direction means you harm, you're gonna go mad from stress and paranoia really fast. Still, Smorre never goes out without one or two hidden weapons on him, just in case.

[the Furry Mob]

Brun looks back up at Smorre as he leans in and gently advises her against taking up the mob life. "I know, I know, I know and we'll see about that last one, ah?" She's studying him, looking at him with new eyes, enough time for the elf to make it across. "You know about the life. Either a cop, or someone affilated like Spitzel... maybe you're even in the mob as the tech guy or something. Not boss material, mid to high level, maybe." She ruminates, trying to figure out why he knows what he knows and what he might not be letting on.

The elf has made his way in and steps up to the two dining animal people, and addresses the grey-blue sky fox girl. "Brunhilde Stendhal." He calls her name out, while she fails to shush him. She hid her name thinking it'd make her stand out less. "Come with me. Sir, excuse us." He says to Smorre, briefly revealing the holstered firearm on his belt.

"Why?"

"No questions, you won't screw this up for me. Get up, now."

"Skugga and I already hung out yesterday, you're not... let me go!" She squeaks as the elf tires of all of this and tries dragging her away. "Herr Smorre! This guy's creepy!" She calls, but then kicks the elf in the shins, which momentarily stops his movement but not his dragging.

[bc56]

Into the Dungeon

"Yeah. Do I look natural to you?" Tethrik continues, "I was created to kill and destroy, and I may have left that life behind, but a good fight still feels good."

[Cola]

Spoiler

Show

Brun looks back up at Smorre as he leans in and gently advises her against taking up the mob life. "I know, I know, I know and we'll see about that last one, ah?" She's studying him, looking at him with new eyes, enough time for the elf to make it across. "You know about the life. Either a cop, or someone affilated like Spitzel... maybe you're even in the mob as the tech guy or something. Not boss material, mid to high level, maybe." She ruminates, trying to figure out why he knows what he knows and what he might not be letting on.

The elf has made his way in and steps up to the two dining animal people, and addresses the grey-blue sky fox girl. "Brunhilde Stendhal." He calls her name out, while she fails to shush him. She hid her name thinking it'd make her stand out less. "Come with me. Sir, excuse us." He says to Smorre, briefly revealing the holstered firearm on his belt.

"Why?"

"No questions, you won't screw this up for me. Get up, now."

"Skugga and I already hung out yesterday, you're not... let me go!" She squeaks as the elf tires of all of this and tries dragging her away. "Herr Smorre! This guy's creepy!" She calls, but then kicks the elf in the shins, which momentarily stops his movement but not his dragging.

[the Furry Mob]

Smorre smirks at Brun's theories. "Wwelll, maybe I I just read lots o-of Mafia stories." He chuckles. "Mob life aand rules are p-p-pretty well known." Since he can see the elf man coming, Smorre is not surprised at all once he enters the tiny restaurant, and Alzim even greets him with a friendly "Welcome, sir!". But alas, it's not food the elf is after. The cat man stays surprisingly calm, and raises his hands off the table into the air a bit to signify that he's harmless. "Oh, sure. Wh-what has to be hhhas to be." He doesn't even try to help Brun, not even once she kicks the elf, to avoid getting himself and the girl into unnecessary trouble. Just watches as the man starts dragging her away.

It would be unwise to play hero when organised crime is involved, much less since Smorre doesn't fully know what's going on. He recognises the name Stendhal, it's the name of the deceased boss of another criminal group. Brun freely talked about her father being a mobster, yet hid her last name to avoid being associated with that specific group. Not a stupid move, since affiliation and loyalty means a lot in these social circles. That elf guy though, he loudly announced Brun's full name, flashed his weapon at a man who may just be a regular law-abiding citizen, and put on such a thuggish and obvious demeanour. He might be a low member of a group with low standards. An unprofessional muppet like that would never get a place in Smorre's group.

[CosmicHobbit]

[Into the Dungeon]

Lynx shrugs. "Frankly, some stuff around here looks natural but isn't, and some stuff looks unnatural but turns out be completely natural. Hard to tell some days." Finally, the stairs stop, opening into a room with stone coffins. Most are closed, but one has it's lid shattered on the ground next to it. "Either these undead or rather rowdy, or people were here before us. Either way, lets start looting!" Possibly having to push past Tethrik, Lynx walks quickly over to the coffin with it's lid broken and starts poking the skeleton inside with the end of his cane.

[Leostales]

Sewer Prison
Unless Tethrik is capable of hurtling people 100 feet in the air, it's probably best if he just carries Blackwall up the stairs, because according to him, the stairs only retract if Blackwall touches them.


[House Hunters]

"I think I found some." she says. "Maybe not all of them, but some."

Industrial Park
"Argh, how the heck are you guys?!!" Muun shouts.

[Shadowcaller]

While Zee learns how to fly pegasus-style (because there's no way they can properly fly with those wings), it looks like everyone else is continuing on.

First, those rats invading the plant:
Most of the workers aren't huge strangers to the rodents, though typically they stay out of this building. It's possible some shouting to "git outta here!" and tossed metal scrap occurs if they're sighted, but no one is going to prepare a huge murder hunt for them.
That's what pest control is paid for, not them.

The rats probably don't care about most of the building's floor-plan, beyond it being mostly wide and spacious, with rooms built along the side for the workers and control areas.
Most of the smelting equipment isn't running at the moment, so there's some more people out and about the main floor than there otherwise would be, for safety reasons. Makes being unnoticed in the side areas a little easier, perhaps.
If they're particularly quick, it shouldn't take extremely long to find a basement access. Said basement isn't very massive, as its just a central area for the various electrical, plumbing, and related infrastructure but it does exist. However! On the far end, on the ground near one of the circuit breakers, is a manhole cover socketed into the ground.

That's probably what they're looking for.


Meanwhile, up above, Down has come to a decision and that decision is to not be suicidally stupid.
Which is what Plan Dive Straight Into The Hole was. As terrible as life in general seems to be, there are a multitude of less awful ways to heroically sacrifice oneself and flying straight into the maw of a skinwalker is not one of them.
Reining in her still-drunk stupidity in favor of that discipline that's kept her alive so far, she watches the scene below more carefully.

Bipeds doing their day-to-day. No running and screaming from terrible monsters.
Two skulkers over there by that pit though, which is...not really the tactically best place. Seem too hesitant to be the usual modus of the monsters...thieves perhaps?
She sniffs the air a bit and frowns, squinting at the hole again. Air smells like winter. Not the usual winter, but an ugly winter. Like a rampaging blizzard. New plan time.


Moments later, there's going to be a quiet set of clacks, as the black full-body-armored pegasus touches down behind Muun and Jahlynn. There's a small pilot light in front of a tube on the side of her body, clearly a flame weapon of some sort, pointed in their general direction.
"Hey guys. Wanna have the night of your lives?"

[Industrial Park]¨

Jaahlyn still had to wait for the rats to return to her with the information. Meanwhile, she is keeping an eye out, not at the hole considering what the philosophers said about staring at the abyss. No, she is keeping on reality. Also known as everything else around them. Thus she notes the Pegasus once he gets closer, it was rather hard to not spot him once he got close enough, no matter how stealthy he was. Seeing he seems to be friendly, or at least not attacking or sounding the alarm at sight, she quickly attempts to cover Muuns mouth with her hand. Why was he shouting of all things?

Turning to the pegasus she nods grimly. "My apologies for his behavior, we wish to survive mainly, sir."

[Purple Eagle]

[the Furry Mob]

Smorre smirks at Brun's theories. "Wwelll, maybe I I just read lots o-of Mafia stories." He chuckles. "Mob life aand rules are p-p-pretty well known." Since he can see the elf man coming, Smorre is not surprised at all once he enters the tiny restaurant, and Alzim even greets him with a friendly "Welcome, sir!". But alas, it's not food the elf is after. The cat man stays surprisingly calm, and raises his hands off the table into the air a bit to signify that he's harmless. "Oh, sure. Wh-what has to be hhhas to be." He doesn't even try to help Brun, not even once she kicks the elf, to avoid getting himself and the girl into unnecessary trouble. Just watches as the man starts dragging her away.

It would be unwise to play hero when organised crime is involved, much less since Smorre doesn't fully know what's going on. He recognises the name Stendhal, it's the name of the deceased boss of another criminal group. Brun freely talked about her father being a mobster, yet hid her last name to avoid being associated with that specific group. Not a stupid move, since affiliation and loyalty means a lot in these social circles. That elf guy though, he loudly announced Brun's full name, flashed his weapon at a man who may just be a regular law-abiding citizen, and put on such a thuggish and obvious demeanour. He might be a low member of a group with low standards. An unprofessional muppet like that would never get a place in Smorre's group.

[the Furry Mob]

Brun seems unconvinced, but has not enough time to probe further. When Smorre declines to even help her, Brun looks a bit shocked. She shouldn't be, they did just meet, but she'd think most people won't let a guy just drag a young girl away, especially after she called him a creep. "Nutzlos!" She barks angrily at the cat, then focuses on the elf, as if realizing a few things.

For instance, that she's quite good with her fists, and that unlike Smorre, she has an ability to use. "<You bastard! Father warned me you'd try something!>" She's switched to full German now, which Smorre may or may not understand.

She desperately reaches towards her drink, then notices the condiments close to her plate of food. Grabbing the pepper, she uncovers it and throws the contents in his face. Both of his hands come up to tend to his blinded face, freeing her to grab the fork and jam it in his groin. This doubles him over, and before he can recover, she uppercuts him with a vibrating fist that knocks him out, leaving the younger girl standing there, panting with the knowledge that had she not caught him by surprise, she'd have a harder time escaping. "<Useless, useless!>" She scrambles to empty his pockets, using the handcuffs he was about to use on her before the 'pepper surprise' on him and picking up his gun.

"Okay, I'm a Stendhal, so what? You really would have let this schleim take me away? My Vati may have been a mob unter boss, my Mutti in on it, but they were good to me. The boss takes care of me, but you all want to keep me from the life. How am I to protect myself from dumm, doof, Sklavenhändler mooks like him?" Brun replies defensively, pointing the gun semi-amateurly at the elf, who moans but seems out of it still, while addressing Smorre. "I'm the girl with the gun, so better do as I say, or <I'll blow his brains out>!" Any trust she had for the cat man is gone, it seems. Any sign that she's scared isn't on her face, but in her body language. "I've killed animals before!"

Her gun is still pointed at the semi-conscious elf, but it kinda looks like she'd switch targets, given enough reason.

[Leostales]

[Industrial Park]¨

Muun manages to calm down a little. "Sorry," he mumbles.

[bc56]

Sewer Prison

I was picturing much smaller stairs.
Tethrik grabs Blackwall and runs up the stairs. Once he reaches the top, he'll set the man down. "Come to think of it, what's so important about you that I am being paid to bust you out?"

Into the Dungeon

Tethrik goes to the nearest closed sarcophagus and presses his rifle up against the stone right where the head would be in order to shoot a hole in the lid. Better to see what's inside before opening it. Could be a mummy or another undead monster.

[Cola]

Spoiler

Show

Brun seems unconvinced, but has not enough time to probe further. When Smorre declines to even help her, Brun looks a bit shocked. She shouldn't be, they did just meet, but she'd think most people won't let a guy just drag a young girl away, especially after she called him a creep. "Nutzlos!" She barks angrily at the cat, then focuses on the elf, as if realizing a few things.

For instance, that she's quite good with her fists, and that unlike Smorre, she has an ability to use. "<You bastard! Father warned me you'd try something!>" She's switched to full German now, which Smorre may or may not understand.

She desperately reaches towards her drink, then notices the condiments close to her plate of food. Grabbing the pepper, she uncovers it and throws the contents in his face. Both of his hands come up to tend to his blinded face, freeing her to grab the fork and jam it in his groin. This doubles him over, and before he can recover, she uppercuts him with a vibrating fist that knocks him out, leaving the younger girl standing there, panting with the knowledge that had she not caught him by surprise, she'd have a harder time escaping. "<Useless, useless!>" She scrambles to empty his pockets, using the handcuffs he was about to use on her before the 'pepper surprise' on him and picking up his gun.

"Okay, I'm a Stendhal, so what? You really would have let this schleim take me away? My Vati may have been a mob unter boss, my Mutti in on it, but they were good to me. The boss takes care of me, but you all want to keep me from the life. How am I to protect myself from dumm, doof, Sklavenhändler mooks like him?" Brun replies defensively, pointing the gun semi-amateurly at the elf, who moans but seems out of it still, while addressing Smorre. "I'm the girl with the gun, so better do as I say, or <I'll blow his brains out>!" Any trust she had for the cat man is gone, it seems. Any sign that she's scared isn't on her face, but in her body language. "I've killed animals before!"

Her gun is still pointed at the semi-conscious elf, but it kinda looks like she'd switch targets, given enough reason.

[the Furry Mob]

Is very surprised by how quickly and viciously Brun manages to take out that thug. He does not speak german though, and that language isn't close enough to Danish for him to understand it. Once the girl is standing and delivering her threats, Smorre takes his hands up into the air again. Unfortunately, his stutter gets worse when he becomes emotional, and nervousness certainly is one. "I I I I I I would aad-ad-advvv-vise ag-ag-ag-ag..." He is unable to get a sentence out, and makes some panicked gestures with his hand. Which hopefully serves to keep the girl's eyes and ears on him, while behind her and behind the counter, Alzim retrieves his futuristic stun gun. Those things are kept by staff in many taverns, and in this here little street foot restaurant too. The human aims at Brun's back and fires a shot that would make all her muscles limp for at moment and would make her collapse and drop the gun.

If that happens, Smorre will stand up from his chair and take the pistol from Brun. He looks like he wants to say something, but first he has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. "You hhave lots to learn. If if I worked wwith the po-police, you'd be in t-t-trouble. Taking hostage, animal c-cruelty, links to the Stendhal family. I co-co-correct myself, as a mmmobster you'd be dead by a-age 20. Too impulsive. And don't watch your ba-b-b-back." The cat man turns to his employee. "We ssshould tie this elf up a-and contact police. T-they'll take him. Brun dindn't say any-anything and never picked up the g-gun, okay?" Alzim nods. Smorre has no reason to not call the police. After all, neither he nor Brun did anything wrong. Wink wink nudge nudge. He turns back to the girl. "Th-tthhis store doesn't have cameras. We three t-testify the same story together, pp-police have to believe us and yyyou'll be clear."

[Purple Eagle]

[the Furry Mob]

The scared and angry Brunhilde glares at Smorre as he stutters, her features softening a bit and looking less likely to aim at him when he stutters out what he can. Her gun is still trained on the elf's chest, her finger on the trigger ready to squeeze it, but divides her focus between the cat and the elf. She has no way of anticipating the blast, and finds herself on the floor, limp and unarmed, eyes wide and looking up at Smorre.

She's quite angry at the moment, but has no choice but to listen, her gaze turning to one of realization, then determination and agreement. After about a minute, she'll slowly get up, her eyes still on Smorre. "Ok. I'll do as you say if you promise to train me." She announces as soon as she has her voice back, her gaze unwavering.

[Chaotic Bob]

Spoiler: Docks Spoils

Show

[The Docks]

Anika won't let herself be stopped by some grey zone!
Though... she could use some help here.
Changing back to her humanoid shape, she goes for some cover and contacts the others across the communicator again. "Hey, guys, I need some help throwing the explosives at the monster-thing."

[The Docks]

"No," Calm Reed admits. She has no time to think about Quin's odd nature right now. "Not even the Fair Folk have been known to do that. But you're right, the cherubs seem to be a conduit or source for it." Then Anika's message comes. "Anika needs our help. Can you drop me off near her and try to destroy those cherubs?"

[Docks]

Typically giant glowing balls dropped from on high with commands to 'be at peace' means you should either get out of the way or prevent the doom ball from doings its thing.

Because that sounds like a 'nice' way to tell people to die.

Geneva COULD just teleport away, likely out of range, but that would leave everyone else nearby still... nearby.

So she does something about it.

Or at least she tries to.

Geneva takes off toward the falling orb at full speed, pulling her psionic barrier away from herself and aiming to encapsulate the orb in a sphere of mental power.

Of course...

She started about six blocks away, so we'll see if she manages to get there quickly enough.

[The Docks]

"I will try," Is the simple response Quin gives, banking down towards Anika and slowing, before halting a short distance from her and gently lowering Calm to the ground. He's in little position to do anything about the falling orb, other than to perhaps shield the others should Geneva's gambit fail.

The Docks - Dawn of the Third Day

"Be at peace"

A cold terror runs down Blanche's spine as those words resonate, a terror that she's only felt once before in what she has long thought of as her darkest hour. This was it, she failed. That thing is going to do something terrible and kill a bunch of people and it will be all her goddamn fault... No, not now. Blanche's gaze hardens as she wills that loathsome inner voice silent, diving for cover behind a flung-about crate and reloading her rifle as she forces herself to go back into the mentality of combat and leave her feelings behind. Those can wait, survival comes first.

"Everybody be careful of that [firetruck]in' sphere! I don't know what it'll do when it hits but it can't be good!" She barks. "Geneva, we'll need to keep that angel busy!" With that stated, she'll fire a couple three-round bursts at the angel, aiming for it's head and chest

[The Docks]

Quin and Calm's transit towards Anika is largely unmolested, the angel's focus honed in on a few other things instead.
Their relatively non-hostile movements don't rank very highly here at the moment. Which is probably also why Anika is able to just stand there and ask for help, without being clobbered by something.

Above, before those three unite, a very busy handful of seconds passes:

The orb begins its descent, falling at the rapid pace one would expect most corporeal objects to and giving it a very brief time frame before impacting the ground.
A pleased smile forms on the angel's face.

Almost the immediate moment following, that pleased smile is torn away from its face in a literal fashion, as Blanche's rifle rounds rip into unprotected flesh. It is too large, perhaps, bones too thick, to be immediately put down by the rounds mutilating its once-beautiful features, punching gold-weeping holes into its chest and rendering any semblance of perfection lost to the ages.
While not dead, its chiming cry of pain has a broken quality to it and those wings that weren't previously ruined pull up protectively around a rapidly sagging form. A wounded animal in retreat, perhaps.

All of which does very little for the catastrophe falling through the air before it. That comparatively small orb carrying some manner of devastation continues its descent regardless of its creator's own peril.
The distance to the ground is brief, if one were to toss a bowling ball over the edge of a building you would have to wait only a few heartbeats before it hit the ground.

Doom.
Geneva didn't quite have to break the sound barrier as she pushed her psychic-boosted speed to what was undoubtedly a harrowing flight through buildings and debris, but it was close.
And now, not too far away from Anika and where Calm/Quin will shortly be, the pink mew is holding a roiling mass of doom a breath's distance from the ground, contained within her little barrier.

It does not seem stable nor likely to remain placidly contained for very long.

[Industrial Park]

Morning Glory/Zee will be approaching any moment now, likely to the sight of a still-relatively normal area and Down conversing with two civilians(?) below.
No violence yet, that's probably a good thing.

Speaking of Down!
Her helmet is obscuring the skeptical look she's giving Muun, but it's definitely there. If this fellow's a thief of some sort, she's not inclined to think he's a very good one. Who yells like that during a robbery?
Maybe they really are just a couple of lost civvies, or lazy workers.

At least the other one is acting somewhat sensibly.
"...right. Not sure who you are, but if your plans for the night rely on that 'survive' thing, I think you should leave. This place is probably going to get pretty anti-'survive' here soon."
Or at least, she assumes it will. Why isn't it already? If the skinwalkers have contaminated this place, everything should already be a screaming mess.
None of this has made sense for awhile now.

Maybe they aren't really here.

The armored pegasus is going to move pass Jaahlyn and Muun, towards the pit and its barrier, to stare down into the darkness. They could stop her, but she doesn't think they will.
"I'm going to go down there and look for some monsters. If you're wanting some dangerous excitement in your lives, you're welcome to come with."
And she's probably going to be doing that in the next few seconds, unless someone gives her a reason not to.

Maybe Jaahlyn and Muun follow.
Maybe they wait on the rats to return and go with that alternative entrance.
Maybe they just tell Down she's stupid and stop her in some fashion.
Choices choices.

[Rebonack]

[Abrajin's Library]

The troll does not, in fact, follow up on the chair assault.

Why?

Because it just got tackled by several burly (and bearded) vikings.

This really doesn't seem like an environment that is at all conducive to research, does it?

It might be a good idea to be a hasty retreat while the Scout has a chance.

For the record, the mead of poetry is still sitting there on the ground. For whatever strange reason it refuses to spill out of its skin.

[House Hunters]

"That's a start," Alexa replies as she moves closer to take a look. "Ugh. Murdered and burned, probably?"

"That'll make a ghost alright," Dusk Glow confirms with a nod.

"Oii, I ain't diggin' in any ashes. Give me a monster with a skull to split," the dwarf grouses. Apparently he isn't a fan of ghost busting.

[Docks]

Geneva doesn't slow down.

Not even for a heartbeat.

She goes rocketing away from the docks and out over the ocean, pressing for as much speed as she can muster. She could go faster in her other form, but then she wouldn't have any way to manipulate the... bomb? She's pretty sure it's a bomb. She'll continue her flight until the orb shows any sign of change. Once it does she's going to hammer-toss the thing as far out to see as she can manage before taking off in the opposite direction.

Hopefully there aren't any boats near where the orb lands.

That would be terrible.

[Industrial Park]

There she is.

With... friends?

A bit shakily (though she manages to land without face-planting this time) Morning Glory alights near the edge of the pit. She's a pretty unassuming looking equestrian with an earthy brown coat, a rust red mane, and the image of a little white trumpet shaped flower surrounded by a yellow glow emblazoned on her haunches.

She glances between Down and the other two people.

"They're clean, in case you were wondering," Morning says, wrinkling her nose at the malodorous miasma clinging to Jaahlyn. "Figuratively speaking. The big one is dead. Or at least I'm about ninety nine percent sure it is. Nothing survives getting cast into the Dreamheart."

Then Morning Glory turns her attention toward the hole in the ground!

"What's our situation here?"

[CosmicHobbit]

Into the Dungeon

With how powerful the gun is, and how old the sarcophagus is, the shot easily goes through, punching the skeleton inside through the skull. If it was alive before, it's dead now.

Lynx starts shoving some coins into his satchel, before lifting up a necklace. It's chain is silver, and it has a raw, unpolished ruby hanging off of it. "It being unpolished will drive down the price, but still a decent find for the first floor." He shoves it in the satchel, then puts his hand back in the sarcophagus to look for more treasure. As he does this however, the skeleton inside rapidly grabs his arm, causing Lynx to pull back, making a little squeal. The skeleton sits up, with a raspy voice coming from it. "Who dares steal my necklace?" it says.

[bc56]

Abrajin's Library

It does seem to be a good time to abscond, doesn't it. The scout starts to leave, but the mead catches its eye once again. As it's on its way towards the door, the scout extends its sampling proboscis and takes just a tiny sip of the stuff.
What's the worst that could happen, right?

Into the Dungeon

Tethrik jumps over to the skeleton and says, "What you should be asking is 'Who dares steal my head?'" He laughs and tries to pull the skeleton's skull off its spinal column. With luck, this will be the sort of undead that can survive that. That would be fun.
Although not for the head...

[CosmicHobbit]

Into the Dungeon

The head does indeed come off, and the skeleton keeps hanging on to Lynx's arm. Lynx is now hitting it with his cane, mostly aiming for the ribs and cracking one or two.

As the head comes, off, it says, "I will slay thee, vile creature!" It then starts attempting to bite Tethrik, probably failing if Tethrik is making any attempt to keep it away from him.

[Mee]

[Weeds...and awkward hugs]

Needless to say, Ithuriel has quite a strong embrace. Probably a bit more pressure being applied than intended since she just kind of flung herself at Naku like that, but Naku's a strong lady too so I'm sure she's fine.

A moment to adjust. A moment to relax. A moment to recognise that Naku is hugging back.

And then Ithuriel hurriedly recoils, blushing furiously and looking awkwardly away. Where did that come from? That was really just- just not like her at all to do something like that!

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Hugs!

Naku does not return the hug with quite the sheer force. She is definitely quite strong, and far more durable than a single hug, even as tight as it is, would push her to.

Naku holds the hug for a moment, before Ithuriel backs off, stammering.
"That is quite all right." Naku assures her, taking a quick knee to grab at her shovel again. "It was . . . I believe both of us needed that."

[Cola]

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The scared and angry Brunhilde glares at Smorre as he stutters, her features softening a bit and looking less likely to aim at him when he stutters out what he can. Her gun is still trained on the elf's chest, her finger on the trigger ready to squeeze it, but divides her focus between the cat and the elf. She has no way of anticipating the blast, and finds herself on the floor, limp and unarmed, eyes wide and looking up at Smorre.

She's quite angry at the moment, but has no choice but to listen, her gaze turning to one of realization, then determination and agreement. After about a minute, she'll slowly get up, her eyes still on Smorre. "Ok. I'll do as you say if you promise to train me." She announces as soon as she has her voice back, her gaze unwavering.

[the Furry Mob]

Smorre waits for Brun's jaws and tongue to function again, so she can give her answer to his suggestion. Turns out though that he doesn't quite like what he hears. A sigh escapes him. "Brun. Look. I t-told you over and over -and over how I fffeel about you and and mob li-life. And yyou still won't let up. No. No! Ththis this isn't a const-construction s-site whhere you can co-come in and say 'hey let me work, I wanna learn the trade'." For the first time, the cat man seems upset. "Alzim, ho-ho-hhold the phone-one. C-c-can't call the ppolice if B-B-Brun doesn't coop-opp-operate. We'll just throw this e-e-e-elf out." The human clerk nods, puts down the phone again and comes around the counter to help Smorre carry the thug out to a street corner, then call an ambulance. He's been knocked out for over a minute now, it's getting dangerous.

[Shadowcaller]

[Industrial Park]

Muun manages to calm down a little. "Sorry," he mumbles.

[The Docks]

Quin and Calm's transit towards Anika is largely unmolested, the angel's focus honed in on a few other things instead.
Their relatively non-hostile movements don't rank very highly here at the moment. Which is probably also why Anika is able to just stand there and ask for help, without being clobbered by something.

Above, before those three unite, a very busy handful of seconds passes:

The orb begins its descent, falling at the rapid pace one would expect most corporeal objects to and giving it a very brief time frame before impacting the ground.
A pleased smile forms on the angel's face.

Almost the immediate moment following, that pleased smile is torn away from its face in a literal fashion, as Blanche's rifle rounds rip into unprotected flesh. It is too large, perhaps, bones too thick, to be immediately put down by the rounds mutilating its once-beautiful features, punching gold-weeping holes into its chest and rendering any semblance of perfection lost to the ages.
While not dead, its chiming cry of pain has a broken quality to it and those wings that weren't previously ruined pull up protectively around a rapidly sagging form. A wounded animal in retreat, perhaps.

All of which does very little for the catastrophe falling through the air before it. That comparatively small orb carrying some manner of devastation continues its descent regardless of its creator's own peril.
The distance to the ground is brief, if one were to toss a bowling ball over the edge of a building you would have to wait only a few heartbeats before it hit the ground.

Doom.
Geneva didn't quite have to break the sound barrier as she pushed her psychic-boosted speed to what was undoubtedly a harrowing flight through buildings and debris, but it was close.
And now, not too far away from Anika and where Calm/Quin will shortly be, the pink mew is holding a roiling mass of doom a breath's distance from the ground, contained within her little barrier.

It does not seem stable nor likely to remain placidly contained for very long.

[Industrial Park]

Morning Glory/Zee will be approaching any moment now, likely to the sight of a still-relatively normal area and Down conversing with two civilians(?) below.
No violence yet, that's probably a good thing.

Speaking of Down!
Her helmet is obscuring the skeptical look she's giving Muun, but it's definitely there. If this fellow's a thief of some sort, she's not inclined to think he's a very good one. Who yells like that during a robbery?
Maybe they really are just a couple of lost civvies, or lazy workers.

At least the other one is acting somewhat sensibly.
"...right. Not sure who you are, but if your plans for the night rely on that 'survive' thing, I think you should leave. This place is probably going to get pretty anti-'survive' here soon."
Or at least, she assumes it will. Why isn't it already? If the skinwalkers have contaminated this place, everything should already be a screaming mess.
None of this has made sense for awhile now.

Maybe they aren't really here.

The armored pegasus is going to move pass Jaahlyn and Muun, towards the pit and its barrier, to stare down into the darkness. They could stop her, but she doesn't think they will.
"I'm going to go down there and look for some monsters. If you're wanting some dangerous excitement in your lives, you're welcome to come with."
And she's probably going to be doing that in the next few seconds, unless someone gives her a reason not to.

Maybe Jaahlyn and Muun follow.
Maybe they wait on the rats to return and go with that alternative entrance.
Maybe they just tell Down she's stupid and stop her in some fashion.
Choices choices.

[Industrial Park]

There she is.

With... friends?

A bit shakily (though she manages to land without face-planting this time) Morning Glory alights near the edge of the pit. She's a pretty unassuming looking equestrian with an earthy brown coat, a rust red mane, and the image of a little white trumpet shaped flower surrounded by a yellow glow emblazoned on her haunches.

She glances between Down and the other two people.

"They're clean, in case you were wondering," Morning says, wrinkling her nose at the malodorous miasma clinging to Jaahlyn. "Figuratively speaking. The big one is dead. Or at least I'm about ninety nine percent sure it is. Nothing survives getting cast into the Dreamheart."

Then Morning Glory turns her attention toward the hole in the ground!

"What's our situation here?"

[Industrial Park]

Okay, so they had the same purpose of being here then. Perhaps Jaahlyn could be a bit more open then. Muun might blab why they were here either way so it might be pointless being deceptive.
Around this time some of the rats return back with their report of the structure through some short range telepathic bond they must have. "Allow me, there is a entrance to the basement section where the creatures you are looking for are located. They have set up a barrier of flesh near the sewer entrance into it and are performing a ritual there as we speak. It might be safer through through the basement entrance than here." Though since these two could fly, perhaps not. "I will try to aid you any path you take, however. We share the same goal." She makes a quick bow and is ready to move out, letting the pegasi take charge for now. They certainly seemed better prepared for this.

[The Docks]

Anika was standing in cover, not out in the open!

Cover near a carriage filled with goblin-class bombs, but still!

Either way, the little pink creature (what was that anyway?) approaching with some magic projectile was not something she had planned.
So it looked like she had to hasten her plans. "Throw the carriage." She remarks while pointing at the the center of the grey zone. Ideally, they would have time to unload the bombs and throw them but it looked like some truly super-human feat were required here.
Of course, if anyone had better ideas where to throw the bombs they could speak up, or preferably just throw the bombs there as there hardly was time to argue right now.
Anika has already shapeshifted back into a bear and is getting away from the mew and the projectile.

[Morty]

[The Docks]

Calm Reed grimly surveys what was almost certainly some sorcerous attack directed their way, but stopped for now. She nods to Anika.

"If we all lift, we should be able to manage it. Let's hurry."

She'll take up a space beside the carriage and get ready.

[Purple Eagle]

[the Furry Mob]

Smorre waits for Brun's jaws and tongue to function again, so she can give her answer to his suggestion. Turns out though that he doesn't quite like what he hears. A sigh escapes him. "Brun. Look. I t-told you over and over -and over how I fffeel about you and and mob li-life. And yyou still won't let up. No. No! Ththis this isn't a const-construction s-site whhere you can co-come in and say 'hey let me work, I wanna learn the trade'." For the first time, the cat man seems upset. "Alzim, ho-ho-hhold the phone-one. C-c-can't call the ppolice if B-B-Brun doesn't coop-opp-operate. We'll just throw this e-e-e-elf out." The human clerk nods, puts down the phone again and comes around the counter to help Smorre carry the thug out to a street corner, then call an ambulance. He's been knocked out for over a minute now, it's getting dangerous.

[The Furry Mob]

Brun raises up a hand. "Nein, wait. I'll testify to your story whether or not you train me. But, I never said train me in mafia job, you assumed it's what I meant. Which proves to me you're mob, und not a low ranker."

At this point, however, the elf shakes himself awake, then looks around at the men carrying him, before Brun stops them. He quickly kicks at the face of the man carrying his legs, trying to get down. "Stay out of this and let us sell her already!" He blurts out.

"See? Töte ihn! KILL HIM!" She uses her yells as a medium to channel her vibro powers, hoping to stun the three men into vertigo. If this succeeds, she'll scramble for the abandoned gun and won't hesitate to put one in the elf's head if not stopped. Hopefully, for her eventual sake, she isn't.

[Slii Arhem]

A Rambling Cart Rolls Into Town

Bright greens and subtle browns play across the painted wooden sides of the cart as it rolls steadily on down the thoroughfare. Ahead of it, an empty harness and horse collar floats at the right height for it to be filled, bouncing along steadily as what appears to be an invisible steed trots along and drags this anachronistic wagon by houses and shops, headed for a good, public open area where its owner can set up. The letters on the side, picked out in faded gold leaf, say Mr. Fezziro's Traveling Emporium.

No driver or teamster sits on the coach box (and what would they drive if they were there?) but the wagon seems to know its business and where it goes. And so after a time and approaching sunset the portable stall arrives at a small, cheery park complete with a fountain.

And then all on its own it begins to unfold. The walls turn on oiled hinges, splitting at well-hidden seams in the middle to shelter the wares from any oncoming sleet or snow. Counters flip down on each side, and a small set of stairs comes to a crashing halt at the back. Fezziro himself (presumably) leaps down past these steps, clearing them without touching any to land with a tight spin. The flourish takes his hand past a coat rack, modified so the base ends in a long spike instead of the trio of curly legs. This he whips up and jabs firmly into the frosty earth, four heavy coats and a pair of hats dragged along for the ride and spinning out before settling around their pole. Several more display stands and larger, heavier items he'd been riding along with are plucked and rammed into place around his stall with the same economy of movement and practiced speed as this before he finally heaves a breath, looks around for any onlookers, and with uncharacteristic drama and flare flips the closed sign hanging from the counter to open.

And now that he's standing still enough to get a good look at, a brief description of this thoroughly odd showman and his cart are merited. Fezziro stands quite tall, though the battered but polished top-hat he wears jauntily adds several inches to an already lanky figure. Similarly well-worn trousers and shirt, heavy road fabrics lasting well and keeping him warm this winter, are accessorized by a hip-length heavy coat and a sharp vest. His most eccentric addition to this aesthetic is the mask, a leather plague doctor's beak covering his face and making his voice resonate deeply. He looks every inch the silly, overblown showman he's acting at the moment, and seems to revel in catching anyone's eye as he gestures for them to look on.

The cart itself, now that it's unfolded, is absolutely littered with items. Every available surface has been used, including a multitude of hooks from the roof to hang ropes, coats, dresses and other fabric goods from. There hardly seems like he had room to breathe in there when he was riding through town. On the counters folded out to each side, small loops of elastic hold down trinkets and baubles securely while still allowing them to be displayed and retrieved at a moment's notice.

Cupping his hands to the end of the beak, Fezziro bellows out to the late afternoon park-goers and anyone curious enough to have followed his cart here from the outskirts, "Hello the park! Step in, step lively, and step away glad! Something for everyone and every item has its tale to tell! Sights to delight and lore galore, all here at Fezziro's magnificent store!"

[Deathkeeper]

[A Rambling Cart, Since Rolled Into Town]

A young man, attracted by the call, arrives on the scene. He's thin, lightly muscled, and fairly handsome despite his unflattering coat and ill-fitted jeans, and his wide glasses. Sparkling at his neck is a large golden necklace. Grant Masters has been good for days. He's been nice and boring; he's sure by now the fae contamination is dying out. He can do something interesting and go shopping, just for a bit.
"Good day, Mister." he says politely to the man, looking over the store and its wares.

[Slii Arhem]

[A Rambling Cart, Since Rolled Into Town]

A young man, attracted by the call, arrives on the scene. He's thin, lightly muscled, and fairly handsome despite his unflattering coat and ill-fitted jeans, and his wide glasses. Sparkling at his neck is a large golden necklace. Grant Masters has been good for days. He's been nice and boring; he's sure by now the fae contamination is dying out. He can do something interesting and go shopping, just for a bit.
"Good day, Mister." he says politely to the man, looking over the store and its wares.

A Rambling Store

"Good day young Master! And what catches your eye today? Every trinket has its tale, and looking and hearing is free." The wares are fairly standard flea market, yard sale, and estate sale fare. It's all used, but has all been very well maintained and cared for by the shop's owner. Old pocket and wrist watches sit side by side with hand tools, curios, small statuettes and collectibles. Most of it is old fashioned, though there's a short wave of nostalgic memorabilia from the last few decades up closer to the cash box where Fezziro stands, gangly and looming.

"If there's anything you're looking for and can't find, don't hesitate to ask. I also do commissions, helping bring out that special something in your most well loved possessions. And before I forget." The shopkeep reaches forward and flips down another sign to let it dangle and sway from the counter. Reaching to one side to pat the flank of his ethereal horse, he lets the caution speak for itself.

NO WEAPONS BOUGHT, SOLD, OR WORKED ON.

[Purple Eagle]

[A Rambling Cart, Since Rolled Into Town]

Someone else is attracted by the call! That someone is an 11-year old girl with German and Swedish facial features, fox ears where elf ones would be and a bushy tail, fur a dark blue-gray. She's lean and quite cute, but just by looking, one would get the impression she was a ruffian. They'd be quite right on that note.

The tomboyish girl is dressed in a plain pink shirt and a black skirt on top of black gym shorts. Her blue eyes gleam with curiosity as she wanders away from the front of her orphanage, attracted by the promise of tales to tell. She likes stories.

Brunhilde Stendhal Fuchs stops quickly once she's at the shop proper, her tail flicking about and her ears perked up to show her fascination as she browses the wares, particularly the musical instrument section. "Guten tag, Herr Fezziro." She says, greeting the proprietor, then starting to sing a tune. The ruffian has a strong vocal talent, as it turns out.

[Deathkeeper]

[A Rambling Store]

”Definitely, absolutely nothing involving faeries. I should probably stay away from horse stuff too.” he says, glancing at what looks like a riding crop.
He wonders if there’s any video game things around.
”Don’t suppose you have anything dragon related?” he says, clearly smiling at his own joke, with the face a teenager gets when he’s seen a very pretty girl recently.