Wapsi Square Forum

FreeFlier wrote: Two believes that two will offer help and advice.

Wolf-who-watches wrote: . . . /noselick/ One might leave the bodies to discourage others.

Meat to be wasted . . . to fall on bare rock and nourish nothing.

. . . That's new. . . . and disturbing.

Actually, the last part is practically a direct quotation of Cutter. And though there were few witnesses (one of whom died very shortly thereafter), it is appropriate that a wolf would know of it.

"I have not used 'Ranger tactics' in a while. Perhaps I shall let them mistake me for another once again,"
Safyr thought as she loosed arrow after arrow into the ground, watching the foolish ones slip and fall on the newly formed ice.

First, throwing a shower of crystalline spider webs on the swarm, rooting them in place.

Next, she threw a handful of green sawdust, which made the part of the mob that was not sliding on ice slow in their movements as though wading through molasses.
Meanwhile, her servant taunted the mob from a different location as ordered, taking a hailstorm of bullets on his lightly armored torso, which hit it then fell to the floor making J'bober a quite effective "meat shield".

Drawing forth a small horn pendant hanging around her neck, she put it to her lips and whispered.

J'bobers eyes glowed fiery red as he cackled, then spoke in a very clipped, yet proper voice,

"Might I suggest you begin praying to that God you say you believe in? Perhaps he might listen...though I seriously doubt it.

Perhaps you would rather enjoy pissing yourselves? That might be fun...for me.

There is something to be said of purging...some of you might actually benefit from that...though if you must vomit, please, do so in the waste cans, and away from me? This is my very best robe!

Or you could all be sensible and RUN!"

With that, he cackled and flew at them, swinging the staff in the air and knocking a few pistols out of now very broken arms in the process. Safyr put her pendant away, and returned to 'Ranger tactics', shooting at targets to disarm whenever possible.

The non-combatants had managed to get to the safe room - thankfully, everyone appeared to be in one piece.

There were only two people not accounted for: Castela... and Sarah...

I froze upon the realization.

---

(Castela's incident below goes here...)

---

The grain elevators echoed loudly with the sudden influx of people. What with the numerous members of Minneapolis' finest in attendance, order was being maintained...

...but my sanity was about at its end when I could not find Sarah anywhere.

I saw Tina and Stanley over in the one corner, and ran over to them.

"Where's Sarah?" I asked... no, I yelled it.

The two were rather stunned. I tried not to yell again, but simply asked, "Sarah?"

"She was right behind us," Stanley said. "She was talking with Tina at the bar when the alarm came..."

Panicking again, I ran back to the entrance of the service tunnel. There was a throng of people, and one of the officers saw me.

"Hey, buddy, you don't want to go back there," he said.

"MY WIFE IS BACK THERE!" I screamed.

"No, she isn't," I heard a voice behind me.

There, holding something in her arms, was Sarah.

I went to hug her, but was stopped by a sudden screeching sound.

"Oh, it's okay, it's okay, Aeternia, you're okay..." she cooed down at the baby girl in her arms. She looked up at me quickly. "Phix handed her off to me right before diving into the fray. I had to stop every few seconds in the tunnel to calm her down..."

I looked at her, then down at the baby. There were a few feathers next to her in the blanket surrounding her.

"It's all right, Aeternia. Mommy and Daddy are okay... and you're safe..."

I couldn't help but start crying, even as I wrapped my arms around Sarah.

The corner of 2nd Street SE and SE 3rd Avenue was a war zone. The assault had come from both sides of the hall; the Brinks truck had rammed into the wall by the stage. One of the band members was flung to the side as the vehicle crashed into the scene.

Amanda had the guest list, and determined that the only unaccounted were the ones involved in the fighting... and Castela, and...

"Brian. Anyone seen the father of the bride?"

Both Phix and Brian were still locked in a state of shock from the revelation- Brian did not believe his nose until he saw Phix's reaction to his question. There could be no question now- this was his Mother. Totally impossible, no rational explanation- but this was his Mother.
She cupped his face with her hand, as she had done decades prior-
"I cannot explain now- go to the safe room, they will be worried about you. It is not safe here,"
As if to emphasize the point, a bullet passed between them. Phix had him on his feet and in the right direction very quickly, then returned to the fray.

May and her Daughter were roughly shoved into a car and taken away from the scene. The one holding a knife at Jin's throat started leering at her swollen breasts, making it quite clear he was looking forward to her being tossed aside. May simply looked at the situation as hopeless- there was nothing she could do, nothing she could conjure. All this effort, all this loss of life- and now Nodaki's forces had the two of them in his grasp...

... she couldn't have planned it better if she had tried.

"NO NO NO NO NO!!! YOU- YOU NEED TO GO AWAY!!!!," Castela screamed at the two men who had her cornered. Both men approached without concern- hostages tend to reduce violence- and a five-year-old was easy enough to control, after all-
Until she began to unravel... and turn into something they did not recognize at all. Four rounds they fired, nothing happened... except that the thing got more agitated, and two loops of briar reached out, each one finding a neck. Struggle as they might, they could not work free. Eventually they both collapsed- and the tangle of briars coalesced back into a little girl, one who looked at her attackers, became very much afraid and screamed "MOMMY," as she ran to where her Mother was...

This needs to move somewhat prior...

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST IS RATED M FOR MATURE DUE TO GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF EXTREME VIOLENCE, BLOOD, GORE, TORTURE, AND CRUELTY. ANYONE AGED 17 AND UNDER SHOULD PROBABLY HAVE A RESPONSIBLE ADULT READ THE FOLLOWING POST AND DETERMINE IF AFOREMENTIONED HYPOTHETICAL MINOR IS MATURE ENOUGH TO HANDLE THE FOLLOWING POST.

SERIOUSLY Y'ALL. IT MIGHT GIVE YOU NIGHTMARES. I SPECIFICALLY WROTE IT TO GIVE YOU NIGHTMARES. THIS IS YOUR TRIGGER WARNING, YOUR FINAL CHANCE TO CLOSE YOUR EYES AND SCROLL PAST, AND YOUR DISCLAIMER. I WILL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST SLEEP, DISTURBING NIGHT TERRORS, OR OTHERWISE NASTY, BAD FEELINGS AND THOUGHTS AND WHATEVER.

SO THERE.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, PEOPLE. YOUR CHOICE.

...I REALLY DON'T WANT TO TRAUMATIZE ANYONE.


A tugging sensation in his abdomen suddenly took John's attention away from the pyroclastic wall. He looked down and saw, to his dismay, a huge, ragged hole in his gut. Then it began to bleed. Profusely. It spilled out, black, smoking and sizzling as it hit the ground, erupting into flames as it went. Now his organs spilled out, quivering and glowing.
Then the pain started.
John immediately fell to his knees, clutching at the gaping hole, screaming and howling.
His vision dimmed and the world spun. Something cold hit his face. He pushed everything else out of his mind and focused on the wound, the pain, the shape and depth of the hole, which organs were damaged or obliterated, which muscles and bones needed to be knit back together. The fire caressed the wound, renewing the organs, muscle, blood, skin, and bone...
The itching started. John writhed as his hands instinctively tried to scrabble and scratch at the itching. He clenched his jaw, sucking his tongue back to keep from biting it off, and forced himself to pull his hands away.

Carver stared, horrified, as the man he just shot screamed like no one else... He was getting better, but the screaming only got worse. He was howling like some terrible wolf.
He dropped his gun and took a step back.
"YOU. WILL NOT. MOVE!"
Carver froze, whimpering, and watched as the flaming figure slowly stood, hunched and twisted in pain, before turning to fix his eyes on him. His flaming, glaring, horrible, terrible eyes...
Oh, God... His eyes...

"MY TURN."

The enraged, furious, flaming, bestial monster leapt at him, grabbing him by the throat and flinging him overhead. Carver screamed as he landed hard on his shoulder, crushing the bones. The hardened criminal rolled onto his back to watch his doom approach as he begged for mercy... his feet scrabbling in the ash of his friends' charred flesh as he tried desperately to escape. The demon, now wreathed entirely in flames, his cloak billowing like black smoke, his eyes aflame and his mouth glowing with the heat of searing breath, leapt again. It's feet drove into both of Carver's knees with a sickening crunch.
The demon laughed and reached down, nails grown into long, red-hot talons, and sunk it's fingers under and around Carver's collarbone and lifted him up.
Carver's vision dimmed.
"NO. YOU WILL EXPERIENCE ALL OF THIS."
The authority of the demon's voice alone dragged Carver back from the veil... And back to the pain.
The demon dropped Carver, who crumpled like a ragdoll as his shattered knees punctured and trust out of his legs. The monster knelt next to Carver's broken, twitching body, holding an outstretched hand over his gut.
GO AHEAD... CRY. YOUR TEARS WILL BOIL AS THEY COME OUT.
The demon smiled, his teeth long, white-hot, and carnivorous, as two whirling cones of flame wound around and out from under it's hood... Like horns... As it slowly and inexorably sank its claws into Carver's flesh, curled into a fist inside him, and pulled out a sizzling intestine. The demon stood, drawing out the rest of his victim's innards, before setting them alight.
Like a slow-burning fuse, Carver's guts withered and burnt... The flame drew ever closer... Closer... He could feel every inch burn and die...
The flames entered Carver's hollowed gut. Smoke began to filter out from his every orifice... The burning... Please, make the burning stop... Please, just let me die... His muscles twitched and writhed and cramped before withering and charring beneath his now blistering skin... Then he could see his ribcage... The bones blackened and crumbled... All that was left was his spine... His face was gone... His tongue was gone... His jaw hung open in a silent scream as now his spine began to blacken and drift away...
Finally.
His eyes popped, and he no longer had to watch.
It still hurt.
It still hurts.
So hot.
Hot...

Well... What have we here? It seems John had some fun with you, didn't he...
Carver stood at the edge of a black river. A green, bobbing light approached from the distance. He looked down and saw his limbs slowly reforming from black ash. He looked up back toward the green light... Which now revealed a terrifying skeletal ship, with an even more frightening, huge, skeleton manning the rudder. It's oily, clicking voice slithered over the water again. "I know just the place for you... Have you ever heard of the Hot House? How about Tatarus? No? Let's see... What did that poet keep calling the place? Ah! What does the name Hell mean for you?"
Carver screamed and tried to step back.
His foot went forward.
Then the other.
He boarded the ferry.
He disembarked.
He was judged and thrust into a portal... And found himself in a lake of fire.
No... No! NO! NOT THE BURNING! PLEASE!

John roared down at the pile of ash, belching a jet of fire, scattering the remains. Then he turned toward the other enemies and stepped forward, laughing wickedly.
Wait.
Something was behind him.
He turned and caught a black sword with one hand and roared again, staring unblinkingly into the insolent elf's icy blue eyes.
The elf grimaced as the jet of fire hit the shield, more annoyed by the light than hurt by the heat, before the sword released it's trap.
Dark energy flowed away from John and was absorbed. The fires died away. John, now extinguished, grew ever colder and feeling fear choke him, the last thing he saw was a metal covered fist flying toward him, before he fell, darkness finally claiming him.

Placing her shield on her back, scales still smoking from the firey blast and grabbing John by the collar in one hand, Safyr fixed the survivors of the Salamander's wrath with an icy stare through her helm and pointed her sword at them held in the other.

"Little humans. Look at what I have done to this creature. Now... imagine what I can do to you. Might I suggest that now would be a good time to try praying to that God of yours, followed by relieving yourselves?"

Calling forth her spectre, then shadows, she released a tiny tendril of fear on one individual she saw shaking, then turned, disappearing into the darkness, leaving the pet, cackling, and dragging John away(actually to a safe location where she could beat some sense into him, but they didn't need to know that.).
That one tiny tendril would be enough to cascade into the crowd. Hopefully they'd stop fighting now and cower in a corner...or the nearest dumpster...she really didn't care which.

Paul Taylor and Susan Sandahl had witnessed the whole conflagration from their table in the center of the hall. To say the least, they were quite entertained with the show... the body count was remarkably high, structural damage impressive, and enemy who showed a ruthlessness seldom matched against an adversary determined to win at any cost, as survival was indeed at stake. Frozen sections of gap and a variety of vines and roots encompassed much of the Gang, as well as many other forms of Elven Magic. The impressive use of an experimental .50 BMG rifle had Paul wondering if he could use magic to become a centaur... just because he wanted to shoot one of them for himself. They finished their Lobster Bisque at a leisurely pace, occasionally ducking the odd bullet and at least once having to leave the table as somebody was about to crash through it, moving to an adjacent table.
"Dear," his beloved intoned, "I think it's getting a little too noisy to continue in here- what do you think?"
"Hmmm... you know (here he dodged a flying body part), you might be quite right- shall we retire to the Cerbeus Club for the evening? it might be quieter..."

Emerauld was doing her best to stay hidden until needed, quietly bored out of her mind. She had mentally taken inventory four...make that five times in the last ten minutes. The copper-tinged scent of blood was driving her mad as she sat there. She was so used to charging in battle raged, cutting down a swath of enemies as she moved, leaving cleanup to the latecomers.

While everyone else was concentrating on the side where the machine had burst through the wall, there was an opening forgotten, and several people...no, targets were sneaking through, and by the Gods, she was going to take care of that...albeit in a slow, leisurely, endlessly entertaining manner.
Mouth drawn into an amused smirk, she began by drawing one of her swords, mouthed an incantation, then pointed it carefully at the feet of one creeping along the edge, grinning as he froze in place, ice wicking up his body until he contorted into a comical pose.
The next person came as far as the first, looked in horror, poked him for a reality check, then grimaced as her finger stuck to him, and soon she joined him in frozen comedy.

The third got as far as the opening, turned their direction and said, "What the f~..." before he too was frozen, said look now set in place.

Seeing the third one become a twisted sort of wintry sculpture, four others tried to move in the opposite direction, only to smack face first into a narrow, crystal clear pane of ice, stuck like that child in the terribly awful 'movie' the old Sarge had made her watch during the feast of thanks...A Christmas Story. She finally saw the humour in that scene, and hoped he would be able to see this and understand, if not appreciate it. Her sense of humour was hopelessly twisted from being around him...and the others.

One group tried to rush through with a yell, having not seen these occurring, only to be tripped up be a frozen 'tree root' that had no business being there, and were frozen in place some in mid fall, some had tried grabbing others in vain, as they were frozen in place.

Another group rushed in without looking, slipped on the now icy ground, and stuck to some of the first group in some amusing positions.

One male had his hand stuck to one females rear, and anothers chest. His expression of shock and horror was exquisitely priceless.
Seeing that most of the opening was now blocked, she finished closing the gap by sealing it in a thick, glassy pane of ice.

Once the fighting was over, she would release them from their magically frozen prison into the arms of the law, but for now, they would entertain her, and possibly others until she was needed to heal someone.

"Vel'bol bauth zexen'umain velkyn?" came a voice from behind her.What about staying hidden?

"Suxxizz! Usstan blocked nindol gordo suul dal intrudas." she said, breaking a crystal wand, as the wild energies flowed into both her sister, and herself.Helping! I blocked this whole side from intruders.

And back to taking inventory, as she was now one crystal wand lighter.

Warrl wrote:

FreeFlier wrote: Two believes that two will offer help and advice.

Wolf-who-watches wrote: . . . /noselick/ One might leave the bodies to discourage others.

Meat to be wasted . . . to fall on bare rock and nourish nothing.

. . . That's new. . . . and disturbing.

Actually, the last part is practically a direct quotation of Cutter. And though there were few witnesses (one of whom died very shortly thereafter), it is appropriate that a wolf would know of it.

Once she stated that she is not the Woman-who-watches, but she approves of Woman-who-watches.

I'm kind of surprised she hasn't weighed in on the battle . . .

Me act? "Snake, this is Bravo Two-Six, I have a target . . ."

--FreeFlier

"Bored now," Safyr said, tired of playing Ranger. The crazed clay thing had not appeared, so she decided to torment his unwitting puppets and pawns.

She murmured an incantation, and leapt from the rafters, sort of...floating down.
To those who haven't seen her in her battle armour, she was a terror, her dragon scale cape made her appear to have dark 'wings', midnight plate mail seemed to have shadowy...things slithering across it, and icy blue eyes burned from her helm, which looked like a skull.

Waving her gauntleted hand lazily about; chanting darkly, the swarm of protesters were engulfed by darkness, treading as though through porridge-thick mud filled with prickly downy thorns.
Those few that managed to break free of this encountered her steed, a decaying mare from the deepest abyss, with burning eyes and fetid breath stamping impatiently at them. Add to that their minds worst fears brought to life, along with a heckling, cackling, skeletal reaper tormenting them.
One very unlucky "pastor" attempted to banish J'bober, only to be told,

"Only those of True Belief with pure shining souls can bid me leave. For Evil done in the name of Good be Evil in Truth."(she would thank her sister later)

He grabbed the unfortunate man by the collar, and "flew" him into the darkness enveloping the rafters, screaming for God to save him from the 'sinners'...then...only silence.

J'bober returned alone.

Safyr drew her mace, a strange skull with long, sharp spikes embedded on its scalp to make a sort of cap, and shield, looking like a giant turtle shell.

"Aphyon chu kissa whol l'jaed," she said in a saccharine tone. "Death comes swiftly for the ignorant."

"You hate me? Goooood. You forgive me? Better still.
No quarter shall be drawn for those guilty who condemn the innocent.
I am but a servant of the Lord, here doing His bidding(that her 'Lord' was the ruler of the circle of darkness known as Hate was unspoken).
Leave now and end your days in pious repentance, and you shall live yet to earn your stair to Heaven.
How do they say, 'Let he who has not sinned cast the first stone?' Any who try here will be struck down by the God they believe in for the most foul blasphemy. Those that dodge it, shall be struck down...by me."

Crushing a crystal wand(given earlier by Emerauld) in ger gauntleted hand, she was surrounded by an ethereal blue glow.

With that, she stood waiting.

Sgt. Howard wrote:"Hmmm... you know (here he dodged a flying body part), you might be quite right- shall we retire to the Cerbeus Club for the evening? it might be quieter..."

Absolutely love it!

The battle of the balconies was not going well.

With the entrance of the remains of the Brinks into the building, full access had been granted to Nodaki’s forces. They were coming up the balcony stairs, determined to silence the high guns because of the carnage they were wreaking on the more powerful paranormals below.

The centaurs and Al fired steadily and resolutely – making each shot count, and being fanatically careful at the potential for collateral damage. With the sounds of footsteps on the stairs, Al ordered “DEFENSE POSITIONS! CINNAMON, WITH ME!”

Al and Cinnamon took up positions to both sides of the staircase, as hidden as possible by the half-walls from the troops coming up the staircases. Buck, Daisy and Rowdy continued to fire for deadly effect down into the melee below, picking targets that normal weapons would have difficulty with.

Al to the right and Cinnamon to the left, they defended the staircase. Chryso was unwieldy for such combat, but her ability to self-load was proving invaluable for suppressive fire. Cindy had given up on the Maxi-14 and was picking her targets carefully with her mother’s Walther.

The rush having stopped for a second, Al scrabbled over to the pile of ammunition cans. Flinging cans of 50-caliber ammunition like they were toys, he heaved them to the centaurs, who had nearly depleted their magazines. Grabbing his own colour-coded can, he crabbed back to his post as the attackers below began another rush. Opening the can, he lay nearly prone over it, noticing with a flicker of amusement that Chryso was loading just as easily out of the can as she had from the bandoliers.

Cinnamon shouted “I’M DOWN TO ONE CLIP, AL – WHAT NOW!”

“KEEP SHOOTING! WE DON’T HAVE A CHOICE! CHOOSE YOUR TARGETS – LET ME SUPPRESS!”

With that, Al reached into his coat and slid the Webley and the spare loaders across to Cindy, who fired the Walther dry, then picked up the Webley and began to carefully pick her targets.

Al began knocking down the assaulting force, one by one, as calmly as though he was on the range. Concentrate..concentrate…CRACK. click-click. CRACK. Click-click.

Firing the Webley dry against the attackers, Cinnamon went to reload, Al making the attackers keep their heads down. Try as she might she couldn't break the Webley - the slide across the floor and stop had damaged the frame lock.

Down to one defender on the stairs, the attackers began to press. Firing as quickly as he could, Al tried to keep them down but using his position against him they'd manage to reach a defensible point at the bottom of the landing - and were firing up to deadly effect.

With a shout of pain Daisy went down, dropping to her forelimbs and rolling to her side.

Al screamed, and began to scrabble across the staircase to get to her. As he crawled across the entrance, one of the gunners below glimpsed a swatch of jacket…

…and put a round through Al’s right thigh.

The impact knocked him onto his back. Bleeding and still in the numb stage which precedes pain, he scrabbled backwards toward Daisy, trying to get to her. She had been hit in the vest at the back– winded, but no blood was in evidence. Cindy tried for her own abandoned Maxi-14 – she hadn’t fired it dry – but the attackers were faster.

Buck and Rowdy hadn’t noticed the damage – they were doing as they were trained and concentrating on their target acquisition. They would notice – but that would take running out of ammunition and forcing a clip swap.

The first up the stairs saw Al, lying near Daisy and scrabbling for the Webley. With contempt he raised his pistol, only to drop the hammer on an empty chamber. With Al still trying for the Webley he looked – and planted a boot tip straight into the wound in Al’s thigh. With the fresh wave of agony Al twisted and hunched over the wound.

Noticing Chryso, the vermin reached down and picked it up…and froze.

Rose realized there was a serious problem here – and took steps to rectify it.

The vermin’s mind in that instant became crystal clear – and in that instant his long-deceased sense of right and wrong reasserted itself. Each and every memory of a brutality or wrong also reasserted itself at the same time.

Screaming loudly, the vermin dropped the gun and began to claw at his head – trying to stop the memories that were tearing his mind apart.

Hearing the screams, Rowdy turned, seeing Al down in a puddle of blood and his mother down as well. With a scream, he put a .50 caliber slug into the vermin and blew him off the catwalk into the milling throng below.

At that point the fresh horror of his dam and friend possibly dying tore away the last vestiges of sanity Rowdy had. Slamming a fresh magazine into his Maxi-14 he jumped over his dam and the prone, bleeding man and leapt to the top of the staircase. Heedless of cover, heedless of the small-caliber fire that pocked his limbs and ricocheted off his chest armor he began to fire into the packed throng below.

Staggering and screaming incoherent obscenities he pumped round after round, magazine after magazine through the Maxi-14 into the attackers. Their numbers severely depleted by this onslaught, they attempted to flee - but Rowdy was having none of that.

With the barrel of his rifle glowing from the heat of the powder charges fired in it he charged down the stairs - an awful force of nature. Finally, at the ground level of the balconies the remaining shells in the clip on the rifle began to cook off - firing and loading by itself. Even these found targets as Rowdy, insane as he was at that moment, was determined that none who hurt his family would escape.

Carrying an ammunition can and his sister's Maxi-14 Buck made his way down the stairs after his brother. Handing him the unburned rifle they both began to fire into the throng of attackers, determined that none would come near the wounded above.

"Thrice damned idiot! Control yourself, or I will," Safyr hissed through clenched teeth.

"All Salamander wear the woad of the Berzerker. *slap* You are but a host for this one. *slap* You have an advantage most do not... *slap* in that you yourself have powers; with it, control this creature, *slap* reclaim the life it has stolen! *slap*

The true reason I forbid you to go near my sister was for both your sanity...and hers. Salamander would devour a berzerker if given a chance...
Before she became a Ranger, she was a Berzerker...by choice. She wears the woad, as it was branded into her. She wanted honour and acceptance for all half elves.
The Berzerker gift was amplified by the Holy weapons she carries. She went too far, and barely kept control of her sanity. She fights every second to keep control. It can be done."

Dragging her sword along the ground in a circle, she slowly released some of the energies she took, blazing in a wall around him, which he absorbed. She continued feeding him morsels until he could stand.

"Do not make me regret this."

John stood, shaking and panting. "You know... I'm gettin' real tired of you draining me."

Safyr moved to slap John again, but he caught her wrist in his hand, holding firmly, and staring into her eyes, his own burning while hers flashed with icy fury.

"I wasn't finished talking."

Safyr lowered her hand, but her eyes did not lose any intensity.

"Please do continue."

"One. I don't know if you've ever had your guts blown out, but I can assure you, it's very traumatic. I don't recommend you try it if you haven't experienced this already."

{A flash of a painfully pleasant lesson sprang to mind, but she remained silent...she could see that he needed this moment.}

Two. You try keeping your cool after having your guts blown out by a hollow point round. It ain't easy.

Three..."
John closed his eyes and breathed deep... When he reopened them, they were no longer on fire... His irises merely smoldered dimly.

"Thank you. I will control the fire."

Safyr's eyes dimmed slightly, though the rest of her countenance showed no change. "See to it that you do. I will be observing your progress."

Meanwhile...

Up in the rafters, Emerauld felt Chryso's scream of rejection...and raced above on the rafters to where she saw Al and Daisy lying prone, the tail end of the brother's firefight disappearing down the stairs.

Leaping off the rafters, swords drawn, she sank down slowly, landing near them, eyes flashing icy blue, daring anyone to draw near.

Summoning a wall of ice to shield them, she sheathed her swords, then tried to cast healing...only to have it fail.
She reached for the wands...only to look up and realise too late her pack had caught up on a nail in the rafters. She tried again, and again, drained, no leylines near enough to draw on.
She knew nothing of bullets, and so was unaware how badly they were actually hurt, only smelled the maddening copper-laced air, and saw the pool of blood forming.

Anguish tore at her as she sank to her knees...and prayed.

"Senger lu'Jallil, dos ruebuss mina! Jivvin nibeless xuil uns'aa 'zil dos saph, Usstan tlun dosst dalhar, jal sarn'ellgaren ph'usst!
Nind ph'ussta abbilen. Qualla xxizz mina!Lord and Lady, you owe them! Play games with me as you like, I am your child, all punishments are mine. They are my friends. Please help them!

Crying without sound and closing her eyes, she searched everywhere in vain for any scrap of energy to draw from, not noticing the runes on her hands and wrists begin to glow, along with a new one on her ring finger, which lit the others in a calm, golden hue.

Calm flooded through her, and opening her eyes, now the brilliant green of the sunlit forests, she touched both over their hearts, letting the magic work it's will through her, the glowing runes poured their Gift into them, forcing the bullet out of Al's leg, and knitting the broken bone and torn flesh. For Daisy, who had been bruised and winded, it revived her, filling her with health...and hope, as they clung together in wonder, the magic completing it's task the remnants escaping as a shower of leafy green.

Soft as breath, two voices spoke in unison, full of warmth and love.

"We, though both capricious and stern, care for all of Our Children, To'ryll. We never abandon them in their hour of need."

One glowing leaf landed on Al, as the Truth filled Emerauld with Understanding, and all the little things she'd experienced in helping him began to make sense.

"I see. I was not the only one whose prayers you answered that day.

I...I thank you. This lesson shall be held close forever...as long as any of us have of it...my Lord, my Lady."

Picking up Chryso, no longer fearing it, she returned it to Al and bowed.

Dispelling the ice, she returned to the rafters to reclaim her pack, and to see if any others could use healing, or aid.

Wow...

Holy wow.....

DinkyInky wrote:Soft as breath, two voices spoke in unison, full of warmth and love.

"We, though both capricious and stern, care for all of Our Children, Tory'll. We never abandon them in their hour of need."

One glowing leaf landed on Al, as the Truth filled her with Understanding, and all the little things she'd experienced in helping him began to make sense.

"I see. I was not the only one whose prayers you answered that day.

I...I thank you. This lesson shall be held close forever...as long as any of us have of it...my Lord, my Lady."

I had to re-read that passage three times, to realize that they were speaking to Emerauld, and that she was responding... Particularly the way the sentence is where the leaf lands on Al... at first, I thought the pronoun "her" was misplaced, since we just talked about Al, but then the phrased continued, with "she" helping "him" (so was this now talking about Daisy? But why would she address them as her Lord and Lady, seeing as she does not know them? Then upon reading it again and once more before replying, I realized it was Eme.

Perhaps, changing the sentence to read: "One glowing leaf landed on Al, as the Truth filled Emerauld with Understanding..." (instead of "filled her").

Other than that, this story, and your part in it, is truly captivating! I look forward to more...

jwhouk wrote:The corner of 2nd Street SE and SE 3rd Avenue was a war zone. The assault had come from both sides of the hall; the Brinks truck had rammed into the wall by the stage. One of the band members was flung to the side as the vehicle crashed into the scene.

Amanda had the guest list, and determined that the only unaccounted were the ones involved in the fighting... and Castela, and...

"Brian. Anyone seen the father of the bride?"

This intersection was a tad quieter when I drove through it in June of this year. I have relatives that live in an apartment at the corner of SE Main and 5th Ave SE, their place has a great view of the river, Stone Arch Bridge, and the city.

Those streets in that area are a little tight...

Out on the street, a fellow named Mason heard his cell go off- He opened it, and connected... a voice on the other end said simply, "Got it,"
With that, he pulled out a bosun's pipe and blew a shrill whistle that penetrated the whole block. What few of the gang that were still able and heard the sound began to retreat. Mason watched their progress and turned... only to be facing a slender fellow holding what looked like a quarterstaff.
"Leaving so soon?" the darkish skinned youth asked, "and here we've gotten all warmed up,"
"I don't have time for games, punk," he said while pulling his pistol, ".. get out of my..."
The gun went flying from his broken hand- before he could even howl in pain, one end of the staff rudely caught his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. The next strike broke his jaw. Finally, he was served a concussion and left on the sidewalk.
A slender, dark-haired girl appeared from the shadows with a small notepad and pencil. She wore a choker collar with a cameo on it.
"That's eight now," she commented absent-mindedly as she made a mark in the notepad...

---

Sarah and I huddled against the walls of the grain elevators for what seemed an eternity. I saw Brian had wandered in - with a bewildered look on his face; I also saw Katherine escorting a very, VERY distraught Castela.

Some gray haired guy with glasses and his wife strolled past. I could have sworn I knew him from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it.

Aeternia had fallen asleep in Sarah's arms, and had actually started to purr lightly.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket - fortunately I'd remembered to keep it in my coat. A new text message appeared - "BAIT HAS BEEN TAKEN. FALL BACK."

I simply replied with an "OK", and hit send.

---

Safyr let John go and returned to the fray. She saw that a few of the so-called "Hellfire" people – the ones Sarg't had called "Westboro Inbreds" – were still in the building, though retreating.

She instinctively went to attack – but found herself stopped.

"That's enough," a voice reached into her ears – making her suddenly a bit uncomfortable. "I know that they preach hatred, and it is definitely NOT in My Name, but revenge is Mine – not yours. Please do not continue."

Safyr tried to sneer – but found herself frozen in her tracks.

"You were right about your observation on Thanksgiving, Safyr Drathmir. But you were wrong about one thing." She felt a hand on her shoulder; looking down, she saw nail prints in the wrists and torn flesh in the hands.

"Before any of your 'gods' were, I AM."

Safyr was stunned for a moment. Anyone around her would have seen a bright light, followed by what seemed a concussion blast.

Except for one pair of eyes, attached to a prayer shawl and a Hasidic hat - who had managed to avoid the melee by hiding behind a very strong reinforced metal box in the corner – and who heard the last part of the sentence as "YHWH."

---

"I have done my best to disarm everyone here," she began. "I have only two real deaths, that of the meth cooker, and the yuan ti. Any other incidentals were unavoidable."
She held her ground, resisting the overwhelming urge to kneel down.

She would not fight the words of a God – one even not her own.

"Vengeance is mine, you once said," she grinned and bowed in 'obeisance'. "The will of a God is law, unless they harm innocents. For that reason alone would I dare to raise a hand against one."

The glowing aura continued around her.

"Though raised in Hate, I do not follow it blindly, I wield it as a weapon against the waves of evil, not to torment the innocent.

"Is that not your way, Lord? Show them the error of their ways and give them the choice to repent or continue in sin?

"The maker of poisons was past redemption, and if I erred by taking your prey, Lord, then punish me. The boy lives, healing with friends and family, I do not regret that death. The Yuan Ti was from my realm, and killing it saved many of your people. I do not regret that death either.

"How many have I killed here that had a chance for redemption? If there is one, Gods will punish me justly for it, is that not so? How many lives have I saved putting fear of…well, You… into them?"

The glow continued. None who observed – if they were watching – could make out what was being said.

"Well aware am I of your people. One here turned me from the senseless bloodshed I was raised in by his actions; one, though not exactly one of yours, made me see killing all does not prevent evil; another recently reminded me of why I chose that path. My sister is a daily reminder of the Path I chose… against my own People."
She drew a breath.

"Was I wrong?"

There was a long pause.

"…No. But – enough bloodshed for now. Tend to and heal those who live. May is dealing with the evil one."

Safyr found herself standing, overlooking the results of the battle.

The attackers were gone rather quickly after that, leaving a long silence in the hall. Safyr was nudged back into the now by the old Rabbi.

"Are you okay, milady?"