Well, by art objects, I just mean pretty, valuable stuff of no practical purpose. So he could sell it for money, or keep it as a memento. His choice.
As they divvy up the lot, Greg stows the wrapped up objects out of sight on his person. "There aren't anything you need to be concerned about." Greg realizes that such an evasive answer probably only increases suspicion, and sighs. "Look, I'll tell you if it becomes important, okay?" Greg frowns as he looks at the distance. "Uhhh, guys.... can you finish the division of the loot pretty quickly?"
"My lord...." The entire horizon appears to be on fire, and the rolling wave of fire seems to be headed in their direction. "That's.... more drought demons than I knew existed. And... they're coming this way, and we're just about the only things left to burn."
"Dregzt uns'aa ulu l' charnaggen..." Dena mumbles as she stares at the horizon. "Okay, there must be something we can do. Can we out run them? I got a flask of fire resistance but I doubt it will be enough." She asks nervously.
"Son of a bitch..." Kirk's eyes dart back and forth, looking for something. Best case scenario would be some hole in the ground/tunnel. Just something to get some kind of cover. If that's not available, he has a suggestion. "We better run. Now."
"I... I... let me think..." Kirk doesn't see any convenient burrows to duck into. There is the body of the zepplin's gondola, but that doesn't look like it will provide much shelter. "We need to get out here... but they move faster than us, they'll just run us down.... we need to distract them. We need to hold them off long enough for them to find something better to burn."
Desperately Dena starts to search the many pockets of her cloak, pulling out a bottle with a fire red liquid which she places on the ground along with a pouch of water.
"Damn, damn, damn... don't I got anything useful in this thing? Doubt any of my water would distract them..." She pulls up another bottle which is seemingly filled with a fine white dust. "Invisibility maybe?" She suggests before seemingly realizing something. "But we would have to stand perfectly still... damn it. There must be some reason they are going this direction, maybe we can use that?"
"The fire might have attracted them. Or..." Greg glances at the wreckage of the zeppelin. "Or... hang on! Kirk, Al, Hold them back for a moment! Dena, follow me!" Greg makes a dash for the zeppelin body as a pair of drought ghosts get closer to the scene.
The thrown knife causes the flaming thing to jerk back, thick limbs briefly visible before sheets of flame and cloaks or broiling smoke reassert themselves. The knife returns as advertised, unharmed and ready for another attack. The pistol has much the same effect, causing no visible harm but driving back the thing none the less. In frustration it places what might be an appendage or hand to the ground, wrenching up a lump of burning grass and soil, hurling the makeshift projectile at Kirk.
Greg climbs up onto the side of the wreck and starts yanking at a the handle of a hatch or door. "The airship! The thing that makes it lift, it's a gas, it's highly flammable. Maybe we can use it to distract them, if we let a whiff of it get out!" Greg starts beating at the hatch with the butt of his rifle. "It's jammed shut. Give me a hand here!"
Last edited by Neon Knight : 11-01-2011 at 09:34 AM.
"I wouldn't try it." Kirk advises before dodging to the side, avoiding the flaming projectile. It doesn't give him a chance to counter attack, unfortunately. "Buggers don't know when to die." Kirk raises his knife, ready to loose it yet again.
The two vanguards of the drought ghost tide keep their distance, one pushed back by a steady stream of bullets from Albert. The other raises a bundle of rock and burning grass overhead, intending to throw it at Albert. A well aimed throw from Kirk might interrupt the attack, though.
With a wrench the door gives under their combined strength, and Greg climbs in. "Here, help me lift this out. Looks like the spare gas canisters are still good." He tries to lift a long, heavy metal cylinder out of the wreckage. "Okay, you need to roll this out towards them, see if they take the bait. It's risky, but I'll cover you from here, to make sure you can get back. When they start heading towards you, hit the cylinder at the top here, near the valve, and run like hell. Got it?"
Ordo, looking cranky and ill as ever, enters the establishment. Investigating... tea. He figures the client at NO's gotta be some kinda screwball, considering the place is named Tony's ******* Teas.
Well, that's just the thing. Ordo can't find a store called Tony's Teas. At all. The closest thing he can find is a store called Tony's T's, manned by a balding fellow with a Brooklyn accent. It's one of those novelty internet T-shirt places, with every product plastered with memes and references that no one above the age of 30 is likely to get.
"****... yes, but I better get more paid for this." Well, technically she did sign up for possible death and injuries and this was probably their best way to survive.
Ignoring the fact all her instincts tells her to flee she starts to roll the damn thing towards the demons over the smoothest terrain she can find with both her arms. She's going to run at the slightest provocation once the demons come rolling, or whatever they are doing.
Ordo's under thirty, and he still doesn't get any of the references. He finds the t-shirts kind of annoying, actually. Plus, there's the fact that NO's client seems to have made a 'minor' mistake.
Unless Tony's hiding a sinister tea-brewery!
"You don't sell tea, do you?" Ordo asks exasperatedly, knowing the answer.
__________________ My avatar was done by Gulaghar. Thanks again!
In a dream I found a place
of rotting meat and eldritch grace
and looked upon his primordial face
and from my thoughts could not erase
that sense of time that sense of space
and my heart the darkness did embrace.
"Thanks." Albert says to Kirk. He keeps his guns trained on the first demon. "I do hope they hurry. I'm almost out of ammo." And then... *Click click click* Albert releases the clips from his guns, and quickly replaces them. Well, as quick as is humanly possible.
Kirk's thrown dagger flies true, driving the drought ghost back. The flaming projectile rolls harmlessly across the Veldt, scorching only plants. Albert's bullet barrage does a good job of holding the rest back, but they're steadily managing to inch closer and closer. It's starting to get hot...
The demons certainly come rolling out to greater, although they're scattered when Greg sends a heavy bullet careening amongst them. They're not that far from her, so she can probably initiate the next step of the plan.
As soon as she starts gain some attention, she decides this is it. She stops as she finds a place where the cylinder can stand without falling down, makes it stand, grabs a rock and hits the cylinder near the valve as hard as she can with it.
Then it's time for her favorite part, the running.
There is a hiss of escaping gas at Dena's strike, and it takes only a few seconds after she turns and starts running for the drought ghosts to reach the gas canister.
FWOOM! The detonation is a flat, rumbling sound, fire licking the sky as the canister bursts apart. There is a similar sounding hiss from the wreckage of the zeppelin, and then Greg climbers out, hitting the grass at a run. "Everyone, run! Run to the hills! Run for your lives!"
The drought ghosts are no longer interested in Kirk and Albert; they make a beeline for the spot of the explosion, and for the hissing coming from the hull. The drought ghosts at the spot of explosion wheel, as if drunken, seemingly reveling in the pyrotechnic spectacle.