Outside 46

[Deathkeeper]

[Neon Facility]

Morne takes a moment to drop the magazine from his pistol and slam a new one home. He pulls back the slide before holstering it again.
"Never mind me. How are you? You got hit worse than me. You shouldn't be moving around much with a blade stuck in you a minute ago." he says, bending down to look her over for her wound.

[Arkhosia]

Clearing

Murasaki nods in agreement. It was harsh, perhaps, but it was true. "And how have your travels in this land been, may I ask?" The spirit was eager to hear about her experiences; she too hadn't seen much of this world, most likely even less than Keiko herself. Having to hide within a sword was a fairly stationary and confining limitation, after all.

[Rebonack]

[Neon Facility]

Morne will find that Khannie's little hoodie was torn where she got stabbed, but the 'wound' if it can even be called that, looks like little more than a reddish spot covered in cartoony hash marks. Obviously she's scuffed up and injured, but that injury isn't translating into anything very significant.

With the weird dog-hat guy poking at her Khannie quickly resorts to flailing her arms at him.

Not in an attempt to injure sort of way.

More of a 'go awaaaaaay!' sort of way.

"I'm fine! I'm really tough. It's just a scratch!"

That should have been way more than a scratch.

That should have been a debilitating wound.

Whatever this kid is, she's made of stern stuff.

[Shadowcaller]

Anulhi attempts to remain somewhat hidden as Anika soars forward, shaking her head at being left behind.

The town itself appears far less abandoned up close, for bodies can be seen piled upon the streets, while a number of figures lurch about on the roads. It's deathly quiet within the town, wagons left abandoned, the water-wheel still. Apart from the figures, the town might well be out of time itself.

The tent appears to be guarded by a pair of individuals clad in riot armor.

[Afflicted Village?]

Ooookay!
That was not something she had expected when she heard about this. People turned into zombies by disease rarely stood around guarding tents in armor unless someone was controlling them and she suspected this pair wasn't even diseased in the first place.
So the question is what they were doing there, were they researching the disease? And if so, for what purpose? Seemed rather suspicious that they turned up right after it had killed or mutated everyone and set up a tent in the middle of town. They couldn't be with the village after all, their gear didn't mix with everything else she had seen. They gotta be outsiders.

The hawk looks like its just flying by, but once it has passed by it suddenly makes a 180 degree turn in the air and circles back, now diving straight towards the tent. It will dive into it as she shifts into her humanoid as she attempts to blast through the tent with a sunburst.

Whoever is in there will see a powerful blast of sun-energy followed by a angry-looking purple elf that comes diving right through their tent.

Hopefully this didn't turn out to be dumb.

[billtodamax]

Dragon Mountain

Very well. I name you Raum, Truthspeaker. Marshall says, and the newly appointed Raum will feel themselves... solidify. The name gives them strength, a connection to the world and a sense of self that nourishes them. It also constrains them, narrowing the possibilities of who they could be and what they could do down, just slightly. In Raum's case (very intentionally, because of how he was named) he'll find it almost impossible to tell a direct lie.

The King bid me here. Marshall confirms, maintaining steady eye contact with Raum. We're here for the dragon.

[Deathkeeper]

[Neon Facility]

Morne grunts and straights himself to his full height.
"Well. That's that, I suppose. Now, let's go, I guess. Be careful." he says, fairly baffled at this turn of events. But he heads out in the direction Khannie pointed anyway.

[Rebonack]

[Neon Facility]

Our heroes soon find what they're looking for.

Built into the wall are a number of mechanisms, bindings that clamp down onto a cylindrical device about a foot across and three feet tall. All of the alcoves are empty at the moment, though nearby are several piles of the glass tubes that no doubt get slotted into the mechanism. They look for all the world like old fashioned fuses, though quite notably they lack a little wire ribbon running through them to act as an actual fuse. Just a big empty glass container.

"We put some of those in there," Khannie says, pointing at the devices. "And then we push that flashy thing over there," she continues, gesturing at a rather gaudy looking control column. "And then they start getting charged and a whole bunch of angry robots come pouring outta there-" she points up at several currently closed irises where the floor meets the wall. "-and they try to murder us."

That sounds like all sorts of fun.

"It was a whole lotta robots and they beat me up twice, so I decided to smash through the wall instead."

Well.

That's a totally reasonable thing to do, right?

[Deathkeeper]

[Neon Facility]

Morne nods and takes out his handgun again.
"Well, this time you have backup. Let's do this." he says casually, and goes to load one of the not-fuses.
He probably should know what these are before doing them. But he doesn't. Oh, well.

[Rebonack]

[Neon Facility]

Khannie will likewise pick up one of the glass? Plastic? Transparent aluminum? Something. One of the clear cylinders and loads it into the alcove. Once all alcoves are filled Khannie will hop over to the control pillar and push the button!

Bright pink liquid flame begins filling the cylinders.

Also?

A really awful klaxon begins sounding as the irises along the floor open up and a mess of beach ball sized machines begin rolling out. They really don't look like much. Just big chrome balls about two feet across. Khannie braces herself at the sight of them as they come barreling toward our heroes!

Morne probably starts shooting at them.

He's pretty good at that, all things considered.

Khannie pounces on the first one, her fist crackling with lightning as she pounds at it, causing it to snap and hiss as acrid smelling smoke begins billowing out of its seams.

[Deathkeeper]

[Neon Facility]

Morne does indeed open fire, though not before tossing another of those seeking bolt grenades.
This time though, he starts moving away from the enemies and farther away towards where they need to go. This is a mechanics section, not a combat encounter. It's entirely possible for them to simply avoid having to take out everything if it means reaching the objective. That's how it usually works anyway.
He's still gonna shoot the heck out of them on the way, though. 16 rounds is plenty.
”C’mon, kid! We’re moving.” he shouts.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Dragon Mountain]

Naming the bird? What an odd thing to do. Damon is perplexed. And why such a specific name? Very strange. "The King? The ssame myssteriouss creature that hass brought uss all here?" He lets the fire in his hand poof back out. This skeletal bird thing doesn't seem to pose any immediate sort of threat.

But why is it here? Why would it be waiting for the king?

"I would be ssurprissed if there were two powerful magical creaturess hidden in one cave. Are your perhapss what remainss of the dragon?"

[Slii Arhem]

A Spongy Glen (Closed)

The forest floor here is made largely of leaf mulch and damp, squidgy moss and the trees are quite a distance from one another, letting travelers pass easily through. Their canopies shy away from each other, showing lines of blazing sunlight racing like veins through the otherwise dimmed sky. It's warm, humid, and the air hums with the vibrancy of life as all creatures small and smaller engage in the act of killing, eating, and advertising their suitability as mate to the few other things that don't want to kill or eat them. Or at least will hold off long enough to pass another generation along first.

So despite looking no end of idyllic and making postcard photographers palpitate with joy at the mere sight, this particular glen could be a nightmare of annoyance to actually trek through. Stinging bugs would drive off most casual hikers and city-dwellers especially, while the more hardened usually gave up after twisting an ankle on one of the many hidden and gnarled roots covered by the slippery carpet of moss and mold. But the most venturous could speak of a small pond a good journey into the forest, and the truffles and other seasonal plants and fungi that could be found there would fetch a mint at the right restaurants, sold to salivating chefs at the kitchen's rear entrance.

[Rebonack]

[Neon Facility]

Huh.

This seems to be a moment of epiphany for Khannie, because backing away to a safe distance doesn't appear to be the sort of plan that she would normally consider. She leaps away from the machine she just fried just in time to avoid what looks suspiciously like a plasma cutter popping out of one of the spheres and jabbing in the general area she occupied only moments before. You know, the sort of super heated device for cutting through exotic alloys?

Yeah.

Getting swarmed by those things would be a good reason why Khannie never succeeded here before.

Though it really begs the question of how she survived.

"Are you sure?" she asks as several of them get blasted to bits by suppressing fire. For each one slagged another comes rolling out of an iris. "Not fighting them feels like cheating."

Thankfully they don't move that fast. They can probably just run them around the large chamber to avoid getting poked.

While all this is going on, the cylinders are slowly filling. Maybe another two rounds or so and they'll be done.

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Glen

"Still easier than hunting for Morels..." Dustin grumbles, slamming the door to his pick-up and grabbing his pack from his bed before moving into the area. The young man, almost entirely mundane in everything from appearance to power, had parked as close to the area as his four-wheel-drive could take him, but to get to the best of the fungi he'd have to trek the last by foot. And for that, he'd packed a full bag of camping gear, a pair of knives on his hips and one in his boot, a machete at his side, and his lovingly worn baseball cap. Sure, he'd also brought food and water that he knew was safe, as well as a tent and bag for when he'd spend the night just to make sure he could get some exotics he'd been wanting to get his hands on, but that stuff wasn't too important.

With one last check to make sure his pants were over his cowboy boots and his sleeves were rolled down properly, the farmhand trudges on in with a fry pan dangling from his pack and a song in his mind.

[Deathkeeper]

[Neon Facility]

”Of course it’s not cheating. It’s called kiting. It’s a very important skill.”
Morne drops another magazine and loads a fresh one. That little thing sure can shoot fast.
”I don’t have infinitive ammo though, how long do you think this is going to last? I can’t count on them to drop any.” Not that he wouldn’t appreciate a brick of ammo on the floor any time now.

[Slii Arhem]

Spongy Glen

"Still easier than hunting for Morels..." Dustin grumbles, slamming the door to his pick-up and grabbing his pack from his bed before moving into the area. The young man, almost entirely mundane in everything from appearance to power, had parked as close to the area as his four-wheel-drive could take him, but to get to the best of the fungi he'd have to trek the last by foot. And for that, he'd packed a full bag of camping gear, a pair of knives on his hips and one in his boot, a machete at his side, and his lovingly worn baseball cap. Sure, he'd also brought food and water that he knew was safe, as well as a tent and bag for when he'd spend the night just to make sure he could get some exotics he'd been wanting to get his hands on, but that stuff wasn't too important.

With one last check to make sure his pants were over his cowboy boots and his sleeves were rolled down properly, the farmhand trudges on in with a fry pan dangling from his pack and a song in his mind.

Spongy Glen

Midges and flies swiftly close in on any bit of exposed flesh they can get to, trying to feast before the sun sets and everything begins to cool too much for their liking, but otherwise Dustin remains unbarred from making progress. So long as his footing is good and sure, he shouldn't run into any trouble, and there's nothing larger than a duck scampering about for him to see, so he shouldn't have any wildlife troubles either. But there's something there. Maybe it's how deadened the sounds of his footfalls are, or how muted and muffled the birdsong is as he gets deeper. This place appears to suck at sound, eating it up and giving nothing back. If something did decide to stalk him here, it's hard to imagine he'd hear anything of it before it was breathing down his neck.

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Glen

The pests will have a hard time getting through his toughened hands and neck, let alone the scruff that adorns his cheeks and chin. But even those that do, Dustin pays them little heed all in all. He was used to things like that and hated the scent and feel of bugspray. Left him feeling...greasy. The farmhand will pick any recognizably edible fungi that he finds as he makes his way in, putting it all in a lingerie laundry bag at his side. The mesh bag makes it so the spores will spread around as he walks so he aides in the spread of the next generation or two.

Every so often however, he stops, closing his eyes so he can concentrate on his hearing and the feel of the air around him. His hands never stray far from his knife or machete however. He'd left his guns in his truck, but he still knew how to use a blade when called upon.

"...y'ello?" He calls, just to be sure.

[Slii Arhem]

Spongy Glen

The pests will have a hard time getting through his toughened hands and neck, let alone the scruff that adorns his cheeks and chin. But even those that do, Dustin pays them little heed all in all. He was used to things like that and hated the scent and feel of bugspray. Left him feeling...greasy. The farmhand will pick any recognizably edible fungi that he finds as he makes his way in, putting it all in a lingerie laundry bag at his side. The mesh bag makes it so the spores will spread around as he walks so he aides in the spread of the next generation or two.

Every so often however, he stops, closing his eyes so he can concentrate on his hearing and the feel of the air around him. His hands never stray far from his knife or machete however. He'd left his guns in his truck, but he still knew how to use a blade when called upon.

"...y'ello?" He calls, just to be sure.

Spongy Glen

A few of the nearer birds take off, and he spooks a pheasant badly enough that it darts across his path, the plump fowl careening wildly around a tree and nearly falling over itself before running out of sight, but even the sound of his own voice doesn't travel far, stopping against the sound-baffling mossy trunks of the surrounding trees.

Still, it's not too far to where this pond supposedly exists, and he could make it well before dusk if he doesn't stop too long to gather things along the way.

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Glen

Not hearing a response and seeing the wildlife spook, he sighs and shuts his mouth before moving on towards the pond. He never stops for long, keeping his small flip knife in his hand to cut mushroom stems and to pry wedges or clumps of fungi off of the ground and trees. He keeps one ear out for anything around him, but for the time being it all feels very...zen.

Once he makes it to the pond, he looks for a suitable place to pitch his one-man tent and to prepare himself for a couple days.

[Slii Arhem]

Spongy Glen

Not hearing a response and seeing the wildlife spook, he sighs and shuts his mouth before moving on towards the pond. He never stops for long, keeping his small flip knife in his hand to cut mushroom stems and to pry wedges or clumps of fungi off of the ground and trees. He keeps one ear out for anything around him, but for the time being it all feels very...zen.

Once he makes it to the pond, he looks for a suitable place to pitch his one-man tent and to prepare himself for a couple days.

Spongy Glen

Well there may be a problem with that as he makes it to where the pond should have been. And indeed there is a depression and a clearing here, but one significant thing that's lacking in the picture is any and all standing water that he might be willing to call a pond. Instead, there's a bed of sucking mud leading away from what used to be the shore, all the way to the far side where the cause of this sudden dry spell is as plain as the nose on his face.

There's a sink-hole, dozens of feet wide and from where he stands it's impossible to gauge how deep. And as he watches more dirt at the edges breaks free and slides down into the murky darkness, a few cubic feet worth. But there's something else in the air here, a faint must and a taste on the back of his tongue that may feel quite numb and fuzzy. Like old attic dust or... spores.

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Glen

Dustin frowns when he sees the lack of a pond. That meant there was going to be some serious ecological damage here if it couldn't get filled back up. One final trip to get these mushrooms and get out...but the taste of spore on the air told him there might be something more precious down in that sinkhole. He'd just have to be daring enough to get it.

And lucky.

And foolish.

Well, he'd be damned if he weren't all three so he sets down his pack and reaches for the best adventuring gear any young man could have when they set out. Rope. A lot of rope. He takes his time, tying a harness around his waist with one length of it and a pair of climbing carabiners. A quick cut later and the rest of the rope gets anchored to the sturdiest, and closest, tree he could find. He leaves most of his gear next to the tree, keeps his blades, grabs several glowsticks and a flashlight for illumination, and just to be safe he soaks a bandana to tie over his mouth and nose. He had no clue if those spores had any lasting effect but he didn't want to chance it. He'd just take a quick look and come back, right?

One final check and he snags another mesh bag and a bottle of water. Worse goes to worst, he'd have to abandon his clothing depending on the hostility of the fungi in that pit, but he'd live. With that thought in mind and yet another final moment to pull his work gloves on, he trudges through the mud to the pit, read to repel down when he arrives.

[Slii Arhem]

Spongy Glen

Dustin frowns when he sees the lack of a pond. That meant there was going to be some serious ecological damage here if it couldn't get filled back up. One final trip to get these mushrooms and get out...but the taste of spore on the air told him there might be something more precious down in that sinkhole. He'd just have to be daring enough to get it.

And lucky.

And foolish.

Well, he'd be damned if he weren't all three so he sets down his pack and reaches for the best adventuring gear any young man could have when they set out. Rope. A lot of rope. He takes his time, tying a harness around his waist with one length of it and a pair of climbing carabiners. A quick cut later and the rest of the rope gets anchored to the sturdiest, and closest, tree he could find. He leaves most of his gear next to the tree, keeps his blades, grabs several glowsticks and a flashlight for illumination, and just to be safe he soaks a bandana to tie over his mouth and nose. He had no clue if those spores had any lasting effect but he didn't want to chance it. He'd just take a quick look and come back, right?

One final check and he snags another mesh bag and a bottle of water. Worse goes to worst, he'd have to abandon his clothing depending on the hostility of the fungi in that pit, but he'd live. With that thought in mind and yet another final moment to pull his work gloves on, he trudges through the mud to the pit, read to repel down when he arrives.

A Spongy Glen

Right away as he gets closer to the edge of the pit he can feel the give and shift of the former pond-bottom under him. It's not the normal, sucking grasp of a bed choked with weeds and pond-scum, it crumbles wetly beneath his feet and feels like a mudslide waiting to happen. But if he's careful and takes his time, he'll make it to within a few feet of the edge before the ground really gives out underneath him, a few tons of muck and duckweed suddenly separating with a shlorp like a bullet fired through an acre of chocolate pudding. The whole shelf where he's standing seems to hover for a moment as time slows before turning to a tumbling, semi-solid slide as quick as mercury and more immediately fatal to anything in it's path. He's got a few moments of heart-stopping clarity to do something about going down with it, or he could enjoy the ride from up on top and see if his equipment will hold.

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Glen

Dustin puts full faith into his equipment and the rope as he twists his grip slightly to apply his braking pressure. When the ground gives way fully, hopefully he'll just drop a few feet and then be left dangling. The transition from vertical to horizontal almost always left his heart racing however and he needs a moment before he continues his journey. During that moment he takes his flashlight and shines it down, hoping the bottom to be close.

[Slii Arhem]

Spongy Glen

For a long while he can't see anything beyond a fine grey dust that was thrown up by the wall of mud peeling off into the hole, but as it rises, he gets more of the impression of that ashy, moldy texture to the air than before. These are the spores, and whatever is throwing them off must be massive.

Once the air has settled again, his light will penetrate just enough to show him the shape of something deep below. It's dark grey, with greenly-iridescent liquid beading here and there on its surface. The lone cap still clings to the far side of the wall, apparently freshly grown since the sinkhole began and spiraling up from a previously subterranean log now given access to the air. The spores must be incredibly hardy to survive in water-saturated ground for so long, too deep to sprout.

Even deeper beneath, the light is blocked too much by the still settling clouds, but he can see the faintest hint of crossing, fibrous materials now shredded and hanging loosely after the wall passed through them.

[Rebonack]

[Neon Facility]

"But we're inside and there's no wind?" Khannie replies. Of course she wouldn't know what kiting is. Pokemon stand in front of each other and take turns smacking one another in the face, when you get right down to it. That's why there should be a pokemon MOBA or something similar. THEN Khannie would no doubt be able to grasp the importance of moving and shooting things that are slower than you.

One of the machines has the good sense to come rolling around from the opposite direction and try to stick Khannie in the back with its plasma cutter. She swiftly jaunts to the side and clobbers it with a lightning punch, causing it to fizzle and spark long enough for her to boot it into the water.

Bye killer robot!

The rest of the machines are still making their slow advance, though they're being impeded by the ones with smouldering holes blasted into them by Morne's weapons. Keep pewing, Morne!

And why would a random block of ammo be laying on the floor?

Obviously if there's anything like that nearby it would be in one of those destructible pieces of terrain. Boxes, computer tables, weird little lights sticking out of the floor, a completely out of place candelabra mounted on the wall. You know, usual stuff.

The cylinders are about a a third of the way full, now.

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Glen

Well, this was certainly a predicament. Hoping that he has enough rope left, Dustin begins to descend, pausing only a moment to pull out a glowstick to crack open and drop. He'd go down as far as his rope would let him and judge from there. If it was just a few feet above the ground, he could risk getting off of it, but if the drop was even just ten feet or so, he'd be trapped down there so won't risk it. If that is the case he'd just have to head back up to the surface and gather all that he could up there.

[Deathkeeper]

[Neon Facility]

Morne fires a few more shots and drops a third magazine. He replaces it, but looks at it as if pondering something. Or maybe he’s doing calculus in his head; it’s hard to tell with that oversized helm. Morne sticks the pistol into his coat and instead pulls out a large, gold-plated revolver sort of weapon, oversized, bulky, and very shiny.
”Little Miss, cover your ears!” he roars, before unloading into the steel death-orbs with the Exile’s Student. The little bronze cobra coiled around his arm seems to glow with the muzzle flash of the hand cannon, the crack Of each shot a scream in this sealed building.

[Rebonack]

[Neon Facility]

Oh geeze that's loud!

Khannie clamps her hands over her ears, wishing she had some proper ear protection right now.

Guns always sound so quiet on television. But in real life they're loud. Like, holy noodles super loud! Khannie knew they were loud, but she's never been so close to one being fired before and WOW that thing is loud!

So for the time being she's running around with her hands clapped over her ears trying not to get poked by the deathspheres.

The revolver rounds are punching holds in the machines, but not quite as effective as the last weapon. Probably because they're notably lacking in heads.

But!

The cylinders are about two thirds of the way full now. Our heroes are getting steadily closer to completing this time challenge! Just a little longer, and hopefully the deathspheres will be nice enough to turn themselves off.

Don't hold your breath, though.

[Deathkeeper]

[Neon Facility]

Morne expends his ammo, letting the cylinder swing out from the hand cannon and- fall out? And then he puts a new one in. Are you sure that’s how revolvers work Morne?
Regardless, he has another bolt grenade so he tosses another. They don’t appear to be in a whole lot of danger so he spares Khannie’s ears.
”So. This doesn’t seem too bad. Is there anything else here besides this mechanic and the boss behind the door?” he asks her.

[Rebonack]

[Neon Facility]

"It's easy for you 'cuz you don't have to get close," Khannie grumps. She needs some way to extend her reach. But she doesn't want something like one of Morne's guns, either. Something that lets her punch something from really far away? Maybe there will be something like that down here.

The robots continue getting blasted! It doesn't last much longer. A few more get shot, then the klaxons cease to sound and those that remain go rolling back to the holes in the wall they came from to begin with. Four cylinders are now filled with magenta liquid flame.

Seriously.

This seems like a really absurd way to power things.

"There's a mini-boss behind the door," Khannie corrects. "I beat him before. Then some more of those goblin things, and a goblin in a big walky armor thing with guns. And then after that there's the robot with the hat and the scythe that I can't ever beat."

That isn't too bad, right? Khannie will at least be able to help with the others. Unlike those awful swarming robots.