Travelers (IC)

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Tarragon on Sat Apr 08, 2017 6:17 pm

Honey, Scylla, Lynn & Mouse
 
Honey half-led, half-dragged Scylla before the pair burst out of the entrance of Central, hurriedly moving away from the door. Honey was reluctant to grab Scylla by any means, seeing that he had an apparent fear of being touched and only tolerated it out of desperation. He had seemed so deeply upset by the turn of events, however, that she often found herself snagging him by his sleeve, just to ensure he was still behind her. Honey herself felt like falling apart, but she knew that doing so would surely mean death, both for her and her companion. Scylla was clearly not in a state to make rational decisions, and Honey herself, despite higher knowledge dictating that she needed to remain calm, was deeply shaken by what could be viewed as the second mass-shooting incident she had been involved in in less than a twenty-four-hour-period.
 
The emotions Honey felt, threatening to overwhelm her completely, were forcibly suppressed by the dominating urgency to escape, and she did not stop running until the pair had passed five rows of buses in the asphalt parking lot, veering around behind them, and going all the way to the far end where she was stopped by the concrete walls enclosing the area. Honey placed one paw-like hand against the side of a battered white bus, leaning over, breathing hard and releasing Scylla’s sleeve, feeling like she should still be walking or pacing, as fast as her heart was beating. She felt like it might split open if she did not, so she began moving back and forth along the side of the bus, looking every bit like a caged tiger. Scylla, meanwhile, promptly collapsed by the back tire of the bus, curling up his knees in front of his face, hugging them with his left arm and pulling his hood tightly over his face with his right. He promptly began breathing in a shaky, whimpering sort of way, and dry rushes of air suggested he was sobbing. Honey slowed her heart down and went over to him, still out breath, body trembling from the adrenaline.
 
Honey said nothing, but slid down the bus so that she was sitting next to Scylla, though not so close that she was touching him; he had been through too much to take any more of it. She leaned her head back and looked up at the sky through hot tears, seeing a night sky illuminated by the moon, and patches of dense grey where the clouds obscured the stars, all blurring together in her poor, foggy vision. Every so often there were light posts that illuminated the parking lot, but Honey and Scylla were only at the very edge of one, and so it was dark, and avoided more by the other people who had been fleeing the gunmen. A damp chill hung in the air, as if a light drizzle might start at any moment, but Honey could not feel that as Scylla did, his form shivering slightly. They both sat in relative silence, trying to recover from what had happened, but the sounds of gunshots had only renewed the trauma of what they had seen at their school.
 
Honey closed her eyes, tears rolling down her snout in beads, her fur repelling these, her sharp teeth bared in an expression of distress, and her ears flattened like a cat that had been beaten and abused. She silently questioned under her breath, “Why, why, why….?” She recited, unable to grasp an understanding of how this could happen a second time. She had thought she was angry, angry that someone would kill innocent people, and that she would be a target again, standing out as she did, but she knew plenty of people had appearances as colorful as her own, now. It was not aimed at her, but at the Travelers. She knew it without anyone telling her, and she could not understand it. She could not understand these people, their motivations, and she did not want to, even as her brain sought an answer. The sounds of the violence and the people shrieking with terror were far too fresh in her memory.
 
“…Did I just….did I just ask for too much…?” She asked the moon, seemingly. “…Did I ask for too many friends….what did I do…what did any of us do…….what…..?” Her quiet words faded into silence, and the grimace on Honey’s face faded into a simple frown, and she just let her head hang down, mane falling across her face in silence.
 
She could hear people in the distance wailing with despair, one ear twitching, but she did not respond much beyond this. She heard cars drive up and people barking orders as perimeters were set around the entrances, watching for the gunmen inside and trying to urge Travelers through. She heard agents working for Central swearing under their breath, saying something about all of the security being weak because of a pressing, urgent issue in the next town over. Somewhere, stone-faced agents from a different place replied with indifference, that this would sometimes happen, but the most that could be done was try to prevent casualties and start over.
 
How tragic, that an issue elsewhere left another place vulnerable to something like this? Even sadder, people were dead and someone who had no understanding would insist on just sweeping it under the rug and letting it happen a second time.
 
Honey forced herself to ignore it, and tried to not let Scylla’s quiet whimpering, his meltdown drag her into a maddened state again. This was not fair. Everyone knew this was what it was. That did not make any difference, in the end. Life was not fair, people would say, and Honey and Scylla were just the people that got dealt bad hands, not that theirs was somehow worse than the bodies inside Central. The unlucky ones were the people that did not make it in time, the ones who had been caught in the blast, right? It did not matter if the so-called ‘lucky’ ones were losing their minds from what they had seen. You were a lucky one, what therapist? You were not in that room, you just heard the shots and ran, right?
 
Life was cruel. Cry. Get over it. Move on.
 
Even so, Honey found it hard to ignore her friend. Even harder when Scylla made a sound somewhat like a muffled scream of frustration, which died down into tragic, heart-broken sobbing. Perhaps he looked more upset in a visible way, but Honey’s heart felt the exact same. It was shredded to pieces by this point. She just let her head hang there, mane hiding all but the tip of her snout, and ears flattened. Her tail did not move, and her plant, which had relaxed its fronds that had curled to avoid damage, closed all of its traps, as though it had no appetite for anything.
 
“Kill….kill….kill……….kill them and make them cry….”
 
Honey’s ears could not detect the plant’s voice. She could not hear it, though others would. The choked, strangled, child-like voice sounded as if it were seething with rage, or about to cry. It gave off no emotional aura, however, and Scylla’s powers did not register the strange specimen as a ‘person’ either. It seemed murderous, malevolent, but if it had feelings, nobody had a way of knowing. Was it faking feelings? Was it reflecting how Honey felt? It did not seem to match her feelings, however. It went silent, however, and the awful mantra faded.
 
 
By this time, Lynn had caught up, both groups that had fled from the explosive sounds converging at the doors. He had followed Honey and Scylla after spotting them fading around the edge of the bus, and felt his heart sinking at the anguished questions that he thought he heard Honey whispering. The choked, child-like voice, however, did not seem to come from anything he recognized, and he sorely hoped he had only imagined it. It felt like evil magic, the kind that made someone instinctively bristle with alarm and fear. He could not sense it, though, and quickly questioned if he had only imagined it as he walked up to the pair.
 
Lynn got down on his knees, looking at the two, but was unable to see either of their faces, “I suppose I might not be here, had you not shouted sense into me…” He quietly began, feeling a creeping sense of distress at the complete lack of a response. “….Are…you alright….” He reached out a hand and shook Honey’s shoulder lightly, but the only reaction this prompted was a brief baring of the teeth and a wrinkled snout that suggested he stop immediately, and she was not in the mood for talking.
 
Lynn next tried to shake Scylla by the shoulder, but the moment he touched the young man’s left shoulder, his right arm flew off of his hood and struck Lynn’s arm in a swift punch, forcing him to yank back his hand and grab his forearm, wincing, positive it would be a bruise. “Don’t touch me!” The changeling snapped, eyes shorting out and going dark red entirely, before he hid his face behind his knees again, “Don’t….” He murmured, now breathing hard, as if he’d panicked. “…sorry….I’m sorry….” It became a wracked sobbing again, as he repeated the apology over and over.
 
“Just….go sit over there, Lynn…other bus….” Honey finally spoke, sighing as if exhausted. “We….don’t want to talk….right now….”
 
Meanwhile, Mouse had followed Lynn after he had gone in a different direction than hers, and stopped to see him kneeling down beside the two strange beings that were not human, an expression of concern, worry, and distress on his features, from what she could see in the dim lighting.
 
“You two….have seen something like this….before….” Mouse said softly, slowly approaching, Whisker squirming in her arms, pawing the fabric of her tagelmust with little pink claws.
 
Lynn glanced up at Mouse, and then back at the two changelings, “Is she right…?” He asked, afraid to voice the question, but wanting to understand what had happened to these two.
 
“Yes….our school….got attacked like just now…” Honey muttered quietly, not bothering to lift her head. “Blood everywhere…”
 
The mention was a chilling statement, and Lynn shuddered.
 
Mouse shuddered, too, but probably for a different reason. It was cold, and she hated blood.

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Celo on Sat Apr 08, 2017 7:18 pm

The crowds of people running in many directions and the negative emotions that pulsated together in a thick cloud combined with the smell of smoke and screams to thin Riley's focus. As she continued towards the exit, her eyes stayed glued on the figures in front of her, particularly the calmer desert woman, in hopes of keeping out the many repulsive thoughts directed at herself.

As they left the building into the open landscape, Riley sucked in a breath of air. She had not realized that she had been holding her breath until then, and she covered her mouth at the nausea that was overtaking her. Nothing came up, however - how can it when your stomach is so empty? All that it resulted in was a moment of lost balance, during which Riley stumbled after the leading woman, not noticing the disappearance of Lynn until they approached him and - regretfully - the other Changelings. Her eyebrows furrowed and her face paled in an expression of apparent worry, but in all actuality, her expression was of guilt.

They were a mess, emotions intensified in comparison to even the suffocating amount of negativity encasing the building. Her attention turned to the conversation just as the badger-like Changeling was sharing her story of Legerman. A child's voice chanted in the depths of Riley's imagination, "Kill them and make them cry." The nausea returned and she covered her mouth, letting her vision blur.

"I hate this," she choked out, the sentence muffled by her hands as she looked at the two before her - the two whose emotions, so much higher than the rest, were what she believed to be her product.

The guilt pressed on Riley's conscience and she licked dry her lips, stepping towards them.

Relax, Rye - They are not going to know anything about what you did, and you can help them a little bit. An unspoken, unknown apology to calm yourself more than them.

Riley moved in front of the boy Changeling and let her legs buckle so that her knees landed on the ground. They scraped the concrete, but this went unnoticed to her. Riley lifted one shaking hand, about to touch the sobbing student, but stopped herself - this for fear more of how her own guilt-ridden emotions would react rather than concern for the boy. Instead, her hand stayed hovering in the air and Riley spoke up, "I am sorry about not asking, but, um..."

She let her powers stretch out across her plane, feeling the energy leave her body and move like a thread in the wind towards the Changeling before her, in hopes of calming his emotions to at least end the tears. The amount of success would greatly depend on how much the guy was willing to comply, along with how much energy Riley had. By this time, Riley's eyebrows were now furrowed in concentration, as well, and she mumbled a "Please calm down." This was done not so much for her ability as for verbally expressing her own hopes.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Sairei on Sat Apr 08, 2017 7:32 pm

Upon exiting the building, Thray was greeted with the cool air and darkness of night. He didn’t linger near the doors, instead continuing out into the parking lot where his eyes were drawn to the sky. Normally the sight of so many stars would have been comforting, but he experienced only disappointment and dread. They were unfamiliar, the constellations forming shapes and stories he couldn’t hope to know. Momentarily his breath caught in his throat and he lifted his wrist close to his face. To anyone watching it might’ve looked like he was checking his watch at first, but a bluish interface glowed to life and he moved his left hand to tap away at the faint projection.

Out of range.

Thray swore under his breath and glanced around again. Buses. Pavement. Maybe if he could get somewhere higher…? He rushed to the nearest bus and climbed up the top, nimbly darting across its surface until he stood atop its frame. Again he checked his “watch” but the result was the same. He couldn’t get a read on his position relative to familiarity. Stubborn, he refused to give up so easily. Perhaps the enormous building was causing interference. Maybe the bomb had scrambled technology within a certain radius. If he got far enough away, and high enough up… maybe…? He jumped down from the bus and darted through the parking lot until he found a suitable location; a bus parked next to a lamp at the edge of the lot. Grumbling to himself, he climbed up the second bus until he was standing on top of it, and then jumped at the pole of the streetlight. Arduously he began his ascent.
It wasn’t long before he was sitting on top of the lamp. There’d been a bird’s nest on it, old, unused and covered with years-old, weather-battered bird crap, but he’d shoved it aside with his forearm and tried not to think about the possible alien germs. Once more he raised his arm, trying to get a proper read on his location, but it was all for naught.

Out of range.

Again Thray swore, though perhaps more loudly than he intended, and lowered his arm. The blue interface switched off, leaving him in relative darkness under the stars. It hit him then, the gravity of his situation. He’d thought he’d understood, but now it all seemed to come crashing in. This… was another world. Another dimension, maybe. And he had no known way of getting home. Part of him had hoped it was some sort of cruel dream, a projection, a distant world that he’d left unexplored, but the stars above and the information (or lack thereof) displayed on his holowatch told him otherwise. This place was the definition of unknown.

And there wasn’t even a dragon to ask for help.

In the midst of his moping, Thray became aware of voices nearby. He swiveled around on his perch, realizing there was a group of huddled figures sitting behind a bus at the edge of the light. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, and wasn’t even sure if they’d been there the whole time or if they’d just arrived. He hadn’t really been paying attention. Still, he knew distress when he heard it, even in a world full of unknowns. He deemed it likely that they had fled the building as he had. Perhaps it would be in his best interests to talk to them? Maybe they knew more than he. Carefully he lowered himself from the lamppost and slid down fireman-style, briefly patting his palms to rid himself of the extra friction-induced heat.

Upon walking closer, Thray recognized some of these beings as the ones he had traveled with earlier. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign, but shrugged it off and tried not to look threatening. It was clear that just about everyone here was disturbed in some way, distressed, out of sorts. He felt sympathetic; perhaps these people had never endured the horrors of war or combat. He could understand the fear. One of them seemed to be trying to calm the other, and he figured it was probably safer to wait and see what happened before saying anything.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Glict on Sat Apr 08, 2017 11:03 pm

There was a sudden disturbance in the rather somber mood that shrouded the travelers. Thukr had arrived, still adrenalized with the sickle stabbed in her neck. Although she was still half a bus away from the others, she seemed to make quite a scene. She brought a certain sense of rotten and nauseating anger with her, instinctual anger that made her seem animalistic and genuinely scary. She growled a loud and rabid snarl at Du-Gant, "Get out of my neck!!" She flailed her pillar like appendages in a poor attempt to remove the sickle from her neck. Snapping her jaws at the handle, she almost got a hold of it at least three times, but Du-Gant slid out of her before she could do any real harm.

Du-Gant screamed a bloody and demonic yell at her, forty percent angry, sixty percent scared to death, "ESAT SAVED YOUR LIFE, PATA, DO NOT TRY TO HARM ME." His hearts seemed to do a rigid circular shudder that somehow gestured that he was upset. He whipped himself around attempting to get the limestone crust off of his blade. A very small part of the blade seemed to have corroded away since he was seen last by the others.

Thukr calmed down a slight bit when Du-Gant came out of her, but was still angry overall, "I did not need help! Stop calling me pata!"

The sickle went over to the bus and hacked deep into it. He was clearly upset, "BE QUIET PATA, YOU DO NOT KNOW THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION." He took his blade out from the body of the bus and just let out a very long irritating shriek.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by StoneWall on Sun Apr 09, 2017 7:40 pm

Veil crouched to brace himself against the flurry of debris that went shooting into the air.  Once the dust subsided, he peaked through the metal railings on the walkway, scanning the crowd. Gunfire attracted his attention almost immediately, and he caught sight of the gunmen for the first time.  Dressed in black, all of them, with a discernible thickness on their chest and abdomen regions; they were clearly wearing body armor.  In addition to the protective vests, these shooters were also wearing helmets equipped with facial screens.  The helmets would have protected the shooters' heads against nearly any kind of shrapnel from the explosive that had just detonated, also likely their doing.  An excellent tactic, Veil thought, trying to box the other Travelers in between the weapons fire and the explosion.

These shooters were expecting some kind of resistance, but Veil was disappointed in the lack thereof. Were most Travelers merely pacifists?  Veil supposed that they were simply too shocked to fight back, and he also acknowledged his superior position to the rest of the Travelers.  The shooters hadn't noticed him up on the walkway on the second floor; this was an advantage in and of itself.  Quickly, he propped his rifle up on the lower metal railing, and steadied it for a shot. Seven gunmen. He could possibly kill two of them before they noticed him. Three kills was exceedingly unlikely. Veil realized that the longer he sat deciding, the greater the chance that he'd be spotted.  

He aimed for the head of the gunman on the rightmost side of their group. Bullet drift would be minimal at this distance. He waited for one of them to fire an extended burst of bullets, hoping to mask the sound of his weapon with their own gunfire.  Veil got what he wanted, and pulled the trigger on his marksman rifle.

A bloody pulp smacked against the floor behind the gunmen, and one of their number dropped dead.

Six more to go, Veil thought.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Prussian on Sun Apr 09, 2017 9:33 pm

People were still running. The crowd was thinning. Shots continued to echo throughout the building.

There was no doubt in Callisto's weary mind that she was scared. She truthfully feared that her life might be snuffed out for good. Never before had she even conceived of such technology, capable of such destructive power. Yet she now found herself standing frozen amidst the rapidly shifting crowd, an entirely new air settling around the area. She deeply doubted that many other people detected it.

The scent of a soul.

When a being dies, its soul is at its most vulnerable. Callisto started moving back the way she came, against the flow of the crowd. A being on the cusp of death relinquishes its grasp on its life force - its very consciousness. The gunshots grow ever louder. And when you're in a position such as yours... There is a sudden panic among the gunmen as one of their own falls due to a head shot, presumably from another traveler. His soul contains malicious emotions and feelings that are hard to read. ...You'll do what you must.

Souls are noncorporeal. She grasped at the air, still an entire room away from the battle. Her fingers clawed at nothing but air, yet something else stirred. They lay beneath our physical reality, unaltered by our simple motions, and our concepts of what is real and what isn't. Through a solid wall, Callisto reached until she and the soul made contact. In the end, our souls are but metaphors. She could feel the dead man's fear and confusion, and hatred and disgust, and desires, and love for people she could never meet or understand.

And as with all other metaphors that Callisto had experienced, it is a waste of energy to attempt to see the meaning of it all.

The soul was hers, and so was its life force.

The knight could feel its power coursing through her, and all thoughts of the soul's previous owner were forgotten. Stronger, clearer, more powerful. With just one other person's soul, Callisto could be sustained for years or more. But what is one meal to a banquet? Right now, there were more souls to harvest.

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Canis_Dirus on Mon Apr 10, 2017 12:03 am

As his companions reached the wall and exited the room, Desin meanwhile, had elected to lag behind and see who it was that had attacked them. He didn't feel any sort of desire to protect the other beings here, however these attackers were a threat to him, and he preferred to get rid of threats and obstacles, rather than save them for later. And so crouched against the wall he stayed, unmoving and decently hidden, with all the smoke in the air and his darker clothing.

When the gunmen entered the room, one of their number's head's exploded. Which was the perfect opportunity to deal with the rest. Desin focused on the air in the middle of the group, willing it to move as he desired, into a spherical shockwave powerful enough to knock them over. As he did so, his skin took on a blue tinge momentarily, however this was unlikely to be noticed as it quickly faded. And with a loud bang!, a pulse of compressed air radiated out from the middle of the group of gunmen, knocking them off their feet and disorienting them, in a similar effect to a flashbang grenade.

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Tarragon on Mon Apr 10, 2017 6:38 pm

Elysia, Konrad, & Edward
 
Elysia sensed something strange about the area between the attackers, and backed away hurriedly, grateful that she did because what followed was some sort of explosion that knocked all of the enemies on their feet, leaving them stunned. Had Elysia been any closer than her current location, it might have hit her, and she felt a brief wave of annoyance pass over her, that someone would quietly regard her as just a casualty if she got hurt. She did not like being viewed as expendable, she had bad memories associated with that label. In the end, however, she could not spend too much time being frustrated over the issue, as regardless of how close it was to her person, it created an opening. Elysia charged into the fray, getting within close-range while they were still recovering and trying to reach for their weapons.
 
She proceeded to kick one of the small cannons away from one person. The menacing-looking device skidded along the floor, far out of his reach. Elysia took this individual hostage, grabbing him and lifting him off the ground by the throat, just beneath the chin. “You shall be kept alive for the authorities.” She told him gruffly. She could not see the man’s face through the visor on his helmet, but perhaps he had blanched at what was happening. He squirmed in her grip, trying to kick her, and reaching up and trying to pry her hand away from his neck, but the red claws would not budge. “It would be better if you quit struggling, or I can break your legs and arms, as well.” Elysia warned, tightening her grip until it would restrict airflow for a moment, before turning to deal with other attackers who were now beginning to regain their senses. The chokehold seemed to have, for the moment, discouraged any resistance.
 
Elysia went over to another attacker close by, now dragging her helpless victim behind her on the ground, and just as the second individual lifted his weapon to aim it at her, Elysia’s free claw tore it out of his grasp, causing a shot to go off into the floor, leaving a chip in the already-damaged concrete. She proceeded to grab this enemy by the neck, just as she had done the first, but this time, she had no intention of letting him live. Claws dug into the man’s jugular as she swiftly ran her hand horizontally along his throat, slitting it open in a lethal, execution-style fashion. The man fell back over onto the ground writhing, clutching at the wound, but Elysia knew he would already have blood filling his lungs by this point. It was swift and effective, but the brief moments before death were horrible, and a chilling message for the other foes in the room.
 
This, of course, was hard for anyone to ignore, and the prospect of having their throats slit did not sit well with the remaining five who had by now recovered from the explosion. They pointed the barrels of their cannons at her, and Elysia grimaced, lifting the dead man’s gun off the ground, and tossing it at one of them. The aim was perfect, and it struck her intended target cleanly in the face, knocking him back over as his head cracked against the floor. He lay there, either dead or unconscious. From the sickening sound of impact, at the very least, severely injured. The helmets the attackers wore were not like metal knight’s armor. They did little to protect their wearers.
 
Four people left to deal with.
 
Elysia might have shapeshifted completely into the form of a Cardinal Dragon, the creature whose claws she was using, but those dragons were quadruped, and it would inhibit her movement. There was not a dragon capable of handling the blasts from the cannons and at the same time carrying the hostage effectively. Even if she tried it, he might get away, and she might not be able to get another.
 
Plus, there was that.
 
Her suppression seals itched at the very thought of trying to pick something too big. How stupid, the power to shape-shift and then a ridiculous thing like that being thrown into the mix. She felt self-conscious just thinking about it.
 
Deciding she had drawn too much attention, Elysia quickly moved herself and her hostage over to a white, smooth material with black, pipe-like legs that had fallen onto its side, ducking behind it and laying down so that she was low to the ground, hearing a blast as a small hole appeared over her head and sailed into the wall.
 
The table was useless, and it was a miracle they thought Elysia was crouching, or that might have hit her.
 
One projectile did hit.
 
A bullet caught Elysia’s shoulder, and she bit back a gasp of pain as it sailed cleanly through. No embedded projectile, but a painful wound. She put her free and over it, propping herself on the elbow, and, deciding she needed to make it look a little more like a bad situation had befallen her, turned and took her hand off of the injury, smashing her palm down on the man’s elbow, just as another bullet sailed past.
 
The man screamed in agony, and then a tightening grip around his throat made it fade into a choked gargle, an effect she hoped would imply they had hit both people. She loosened it and the hostage breathed hard, probably on the verge of fainting now. She had broken the limb, the way it was bent.
 
Not the best way to act, but she had to get herself time, as she reached up with her free palm again and placed it over the injury, trying to focus her magic to stop the bleeding.
 
 
Konrad, meanwhile, had went out of the room and down the corridor, gently setting Edward down outside behind a row of large, bowl-like planters filled with philodendrons. “I will be going back to fight, you stay here, make no sound, understand?” The dragon-like being warned. “If any one of them comes out of that room and sees you, I cannot guarantee your safety.”
 
By this time, the majority of the room was deserted, save for a few stragglers.
 
Ed looked up at Konrad, and sighed, “Unfortunately, I am aware…” He laid his head on the floor, staring up at the mostly-dark ceiling where the lights had gone out. “What a miserable way to end.” He mused aloud.
 
Konrad turned and ran off, back into the room where the gunmen were, to keep them from leaving the area.
 
Ed continued the final thought, “Of course, I have the devil’s luck. I can get injured and hurt and lose many things, but I would never allow someone to take my life so easily.”
 
With this, he fell silent, rolled over onto his stomach, and dragged himself further behind the planter, vanishing behind the vines, completely invisible. There he remained, grimacing with pain, but forcing himself to clench his jaw.
 
He was determined not to give in to this.
 
 
Honey, Scylla, Lynn, & Mouse
 
Scylla felt the anxiety and overwhelming stress that had sent him spiraling into his meltdown fading as suddenly as they had occurred, and wiped tears from under his glasses to see that the one girl…was it Riley? Holding out her hand in a strange fashion towards him. Were it not for the fact that whatever she was doing seemed to be real, it might have felt comical, but in the end, even though it lifted him out of the complete depression he had felt moments before, he still regarded the recent turn of events with dismay. The cause of his stress was not merely the mass-shooting, but the sheer number of unpleasant things that he had been through, all sent crashing down in a snowball effect at once. Whatever Riley had done, it worked, but Scylla still failed to feel any sort of optimism about the future. It still seemed bleak, and the only thing that had changed was that he was getting the feelings under control.
 
Deciding he needed to hurry up and stop because this was not an appropriate way to act to begin with, he took off his glasses with his left hand and wiped at his eyes with his right, breathing deeply as he did so, “Good grief…” He said, his voice a bit hoarse, “I’m fine, I’m fine, just….a bit overwhelmed right now…can’t handle a single thing, can I? How will I ever get through anything if I keep falling apart?”
 
Honey, sitting next to him, swiveled one ear towards Scylla and Riley, and the other moved to point towards the familiar screams of the strange, floating sickle, who seemed to be arguing with someone else…Thukr?
 
“Magic is a wonderful thing to have, and it’s perfectly legitimate if you get upset over something like this. Mass-shootings are not normal.” Honey said, replying to Scylla’s apology. “Now….I’m extremely near-sighted, so what’s going on over there? Who’s shouting?”
 
As Honey asked this question, the plant in her hands rustled briefly, the flytrap-like maws at the edge of each frond opening again.
 
The leaves rustled, and the plant laughed, before speaking again in its horrible, choked voice,
 
“T r y i n g   t o   a t o n e   f o r   o u r   c r i m e s   a r e   w e ?”
 
This time, the voice sounded particularly ominous, and almost mocking or accusatory in tone.
 
Despite this, Honey didn’t seem to notice, and looked at Riley, “That’s a unique power you have, thought you were a normal human. I guess you’re from one of the magical worlds?”
 
 
Meanwhile, Lynn and Mouse were focused on the sight of Thukr and Du-Gant, as well as the alien who had just appeared into the mix. “New arrivals…” Mouse muttered, sounding almost as though she begrudged helping these people. There was a bit of a problem she had with people. She did not like people, getting attached or being looked to for help. Unfortunately, she had done an excellent job of lapsing into a role like that, given that she had led a lot of people out of Central herself.
 
Lynn had a grim expression on his face, “There is very little direction on what we should do at a time like this. I doubt there is an easy answer.” He was still holding the arm Scylla had punched.
 
“My friend, why did you punch me?” Lynn looked down at Scylla, getting the feeling that it might not be a good idea to approach the two strange, arguing creatures he had been watching.
 
Scylla looked up at Lynn, “Ah….I have haphephobia…sorry….I try to ignore it…but I’m pretty bad with it….I tend to freak out and do things without thinking….please forgive me…” He placed his glasses back onto his face, where they promptly fogged up from the heat of his tears.
 
“…See? There are downfalls to glasses….” He said with a bit of force behind his voice, as if it were a proclamation, trying to distract himself from the darker things that had been happening.
 
Scylla forced the feelings of anxiety down.

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Canis_Dirus on Mon Apr 10, 2017 6:56 pm

Desin watched Elysia with interest, the shock wave having cleared a lot of the dust in the area around the gunmen. He smiled a bit, as some respect for her entered his mind, seeing how she efficiently handled herself. However it was not over, and she had left four of them alive. As the four started to shoot at her, Desin merely aimed his gaze at the base of the helmet of one of their number.

This time, the area around his eyes turned a semi-transparent dark blue, as invisible beams of x-ray radiation lanced out from each eye and into his target's neck. The effect was almost immediately noticeable, as the man's skin was vaporized, and the scent of burnt flesh filled the air as he dropped with a scream, a nice sized chunk of his neck gone.

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Celo on Mon Apr 10, 2017 7:16 pm

Almost as soon as she started trying to influence the guy's emotions, an annoying screech began to pierce through the air. It made Riley scowl slightly. Couldn't that freak of a sickle tell she was trying to concentrate? No matter - thinking such things was making the matter even more difficult. It was best to ignore the sounds until after the situation was taken care of.

Riley let out a sigh of relief as she felt the boy's emotions calm - she now remembered hearing the badger changeling being called "Scylla" when she first arrived. Granted, there was still a fluctuating amount of anxiety, but it was much lighter than before. She moved her hand down, placing one over the other in her lap.

"We're all going through a lot; emotions and reactions are normal," she muttered in response to Scylla's statement that followed the calm. Her shoulders were still tensed, Riley being unable to calm her own emotions due to the others' presence. Her eyes looked over at the badger-like Changeling, who also responded to him. Her response was reassuring, and Riley was about to smile before it suddenly spoke.

“T r y i n g   t o   a t o n e   f o r   o u r   c r i m e s   a r e   w e ?”

The color drained from her face in an instant and her eyes jumped from the Changeling to the plant attached to the Legerman student. Her mind filled with anxiety. They know - she knows - It knows. How much does it know? Riley forgot about the others' emotions. She seemed frozen in place, taking a few seconds to respond to the Changeling's question with a shaky voice. She tried to fumble out a response, hoping to feign any knowledge of the other Changelings' origins.

"Hm? O-oh, um... y-yeah, kind of, but it has technology and... stuff. I-I left at a bad time, though."

When did her mouth become so dry? Riley bit her lip, distracted; she didn't even pay mind to the annoying screaming, anymore. Her eyes kept looking at the badger changeling's plant. "Erm... so, um... I never caught your name. I remember hearing your name as Scylla, earlier, though," She forced herself to look back at the Changelings rather than the plant, her eyes looking at each one, first the animal one, then Scylla, as she addressed them.


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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Glict on Mon Apr 10, 2017 8:47 pm

Goose was slightly angry that no one had shot him yet. Everyone else had seemed to take the fun out of dealing with the gunmen. He was used to toying with his enemies, having a lot of down time between with them before they were ultimately killed. He didn't torture them or anything, he just liked to play with them, as crazy and childish as it sounds.

Goose had stood there, waiting for someone to shoot, but no one did. "You're all terrible terrorists, you know that right?" He scoffed and then telekineticaly lifted one into the air by waving his hand upward. The gunner gripped his gun and tried shooting, but every bullet seemed to miss. Goose gave a hearty laugh, amused that they were giving him the attention he deserved, "There you go! You can't shoot anyone if you don't pull the trigger, right?" Another gunner had lined up Goose in his sights, but still, every bullet shot had missed.

Goose took a piece of shrapnel from the explosion, also with his telekinesis, and held it up under the floating gunner. The sharp bits of the rubble were pointing upwards in just the right way to impale the levitated gunner if dropped, so that's what Goose did. It pierced through his stomach fully, which caused some amount of blood to be shed.

***

Thukr breathed rather heavily, trying to calm herself down, Du-Gant on the other hand was throwing a fit, slashing to and fro, not caring if he got too close to the buses and accidentally scratching them.

Thukr's wound seemed to be sealed up with a mixture of mucus and limestone. She moved past the flailing sickle and spoke to the group in general, "I am safe and also sorry for overreacting. Is everyone okay?"
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Sairei on Tue Apr 11, 2017 3:16 am

Thray’s attention had rapidly shifted from the crouched creatures to the odd one wearing robes and the female holding a smaller creature—he hoped the thing wasn’t her offspring. Stars, that thing made for an ugly child. Squinting, he was further distracted by the apparent screeching from a floating ancient weapon and the enormous pile of stink that accompanied it. Rapidly his face drew into a disgusted snarl and the took a step back, covering his nose with the collar of his shirt. Unfortunately, the screaming from the sickle was much too loud for him to hear the talking plant, and the ominous message its leafy orifices proclaimed was lost to his ears.

The question the stink-monster put to group barely registered. From what Thray had seen no one seemed injured; terrified probably, but not actually hurt. Irritatingly enough, no one seemed to have any idea what to do about the situation. So far Thray had seen zero authority figures and witnessed one grand attack; the latter suggested he not put any faith in the security of this world. And now he was here with… frightened teenagers, something that smelled worse than the bottom of his boots after cleaning his ship’s septic system, an inanimate object loudly protesting its inanimateness, a female with a hideous kid and a distinct lack of proper clothing, and a guy that looked like he’d taken a wrong turn at a fantasy convention and ended up in the post-apocalyptic section.

Thray shook his head. Somehow, in all this madness, he managed to feel like the odd one out. Yellow eyes narrowed further under the lip of his hood, but he took a deep breath and—and instantly regretted it. Right. Stink-monster. Maybe luck was a foreign concept in this universe; it seemed that Thray was all out.

“I hate to interrupt this charming temper-tantrum,” Thray hissed, glaring mainly at Du-Gant in a desperate attempt to silence him, “but does anyone know what just happened back there?” He addressed the group as a whole, but didn’t really care who answered him so long as someone spoke up. His eyes lingered on each person present for a good few seconds and his tone softened. “Anyone at all?” It was particularly concerning to him because if he could not identify the attackers and knew nothing about them, it was likely they could attack again with relative ease. He chose not to bring this up, mostly mindful of the stress that could put on the already upset people present. There was no need to cause further panic.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Tarragon on Tue Apr 11, 2017 4:36 pm

Honey, Scylla, Lynn, & Mouse
 
One of Honey’s ears pricked up at the alien blur’s question, “The answer? They’re a bunch of lunatics that decided to attack for no reason other than to kill Travelers, most likely. According to the authorities that showed up, it happens every so often, security was bad due to an emergency somewhere else.”
 
Scylla, face still flushed from crying, turned to look at her, “How did you…?”
 
Honey smoothed her mane out of her eyes, “I’m near-sighted, but notice how big these ears are? I can hear what’s going on by the entrances, still. It looks like they normally have people here to keep the building safe, but there was some sort of issue that left them open. The few agents left are swearing up a storm, by the way, over the fact that this happened. At least those guys feel bad about it, the people they’re talking to? Not so much. The problem here is that Travelers are so diverse, and emotional tensions are so bad otherwise, you need a psychic or something to really weed out who will turn violent. The people in this circle alone, you really reflect on that, and you can see that outward appearances have no fixed pattern.”
 
Honey’s expression turned extremely sour, relaying what she had heard, “For the record, if this Earth is anything like mine, I wouldn’t put it past humanity to irrationally kill people that aren’t their own. I’m not even that surprised. It’s a typical thing in society for someone to scapegoat someone from a different place, and it’s easier to focus all of your loathing on something foreign. In this circumstance, someone, somewhere, has blamed Travelers like us for their problems, maybe tax dollars being used, who knows? It doesn’t change the fact that we’re here. People kill over stupid things.”
 
She inhaled deeply, and let it out, “Good, got that off my chest, now I feel better, I needed to grumble about that, sorry for venting.” She slowly rose up onto her feet, and looked back at Riley, “My name is Simona, but my friends call me Honey, nice to meet you, though this is an unpleasant context for introductions.”
 
 
Meanwhile, Scylla looked over at Thukr, “We’re good, nobody’s hurt…just a rough day. Glad to see you guys made it out of there...” He laughed nervously, now fidgeting with one of the loose threads on his sweatpants with a free hand. This nervous tic seemed to occur the entire time anyone had known him when he was sitting down. If he was standing up, he fidgeted with loose threads on the inside of his jacket’s sleeves. His nervousness probably had more to deal with general anxiety, than the fact that he was talking to a gigantic, monstrous blob and a sentient sickle with beating hearts floating around it. Overall, the Changeling duo, while probably worse-for-wear given the situation, had adapted better than most people to the sheer diversity of Travelers, probably because their own world operated on a form of logic that was compatible with the entire concept of Travelers and portals.
 
 
“You….harvest tool….stop swinging your blade about the place…you run the risk…of cutting someone who will not recover from it…” Mouse looked at the screeching sickle, the only visible part of her face her eyes, with a severe glare that might have turned it to stone. Mouse, accustomed to being in silent farming areas as a lookout in her home town, and accustomed to the deathly silence of the desert-like wasteland that surrounded civilization, had been dealing with far more noise than what she was used to. Every time someone raised their voice, she felt half-convinced that a gigantic predator was coming to attack. It was already hard enough trying to care adequately for Whisker, without the small rodent being constantly stressed and trying to squirm out of her grip to hide. How could Whisker even hide, given that she had not even opened her eyes, yet?
 
Whisker, on que, squeaked and waved her tiny paws in the air, fidgeting, and managed to roll onto her stomach, where she actually began climbing part-way up Mouse’s arm before she caught the small creature and returned her to the original position, covering one of Whisker’s ears, as if to muffle the sound. Never underestimate a pink rat pup. Perhaps it could not see or properly defend itself, but its legs and paws were developed enough and it could climb better than a person would expect. This was an improvement over the past few days, when Whisker could not do such a thing, but it also meant more trouble for Mouse. Mouse gently rubbed the rat pup’s head with one gloved hand, which was the best that could qualify as grooming, to calm Whisker down, but once she succeeded in getting the squirming creature under control, she stopped. It might be seen as cruel if she failed to lavish care on her new pet, but too much love and affection during their infancy made rats relaxed and excessively calm, which was bad for their survival in dangerous environments. Mouse, if she was able to take safety for granted, would have smothered the creature, because anxiety had its own negative impact on health, but the rat needed to feel some level of concern for its safety, or it would just be a liability, rather than a helpful companion. Mouse would socialize Whisker more she was sure a certain kind of personality had formed.
 
There was also the concern that the rat pup would get bigger, and Mouse would still have to carry her until Whisker opened her eyes and began walking around on her own. Whisker was about a week old, but there would still be two whole weeks before the rodent grew proper fur and would be capable of regulating her body temperature without Mouse’s help. It would probably be within one or two days, and a soft, fuzzy coat would start appearing. In another week, teeth would grow in and the eyes would be open. Mouse eagerly awaited this, even now she could see the tall, alien being looking at Whisker with a brief expression of what she imagined was disgust, and she was simply glad now that Whisker only needed feeding every four or five hours, less-frequently than previous days. She did not like Whisker being seen as hideous, but Mouse had initially thought the same thing. Her impression, however, had changed, and Whisker seemed more cute than ugly, in her eyes, perhaps because she had invested so much effort, and was now quite attached.
 
Even as she worked with trying to keep Whisker still, Mouse did not take her eyes off of the sickle, wary of the thing that had so easily lodged itself in the alien-monster’s neck deciding to attack her instead of complying with her wish. She was always cautious, plenty of Scavengers in her world would pretend to be nice, and then try to attack and kill for supplies. Predictability was very low, so worse-case scenarios were often in line with Mouse’s thought process.
 
 
Scylla, just after reassuring Thukr, tensed. “For a while…they were dropping off, but then it stopped when the building cleared….people are dropping off again.” He tensed.
 
“Someone is fighting in there.” He said, suddenly growing concerned. “There’s….a few people inside, but every so often someone is dying.”
 
Honey looked over at Scylla, “Most likely…not everyone in that room would have been caught in the explosion…” She sighed, “So…that in mind, if they didn’t run or die, what else would they be doing other than fighting?”
 
Lynn, hearing this, paled, “Fighting?”
 
“Yeah,” Honey turned to look at Lynn, “The only reason we’re not being shot out here is because someone’s keeping them there.” Her ear twitched and she seemed to grimace, “If presences are dropping off, then the most we can hope for is that when it stops, the people coming out of that building are friends, and not the gunmen, unless you want to charge in there to help.”
 
Scylla shook his head, “There’s not enough for us to do anything but get there late.” He sighed, before a thought occurred to him, “Well, unless….” He paused, and then sighed with apparent frustration, “If I just knew who was who….”
 
“No, that’s fine, what were you thinking, Scylla?”
 
“Well….my powers….are kinda weird, sensory-stuff isn’t all I can do. I have this puppet…well….more like a trained dog actually…I can summon it when I play the flute in my backpack…it can go wherever I can sense things, but I can’t recognize individual people….so….if my puppet doesn’t know what’s there…it might kill the wrong person….but I’ve never used it to fight before….”
 
“Well….can your puppet simply impair people?” Honey asked.
 
“Oh….well…maybe?” Scylla shrugged, and turned around to rummage in his backpack, pulling out a large, strange-looking flute that seemed to be formed from a shiny black wood with blue and green iridescence, which almost looked more like a precious stone, versus organic material. The flute was two pipes that fused together at the mouthpiece, but near their openings, they resembled fanged mouths with curving ram’s horns. The flute’s supports that held the pipes together looked like interlaced, knobby fingers or talons.
 
“…That’s a weird-looking flute.”
 
“Yeah, had it since I was a baby. Let’s see if this works, I’ll tell Bast to pick up one of the people holding the guns shooting at the Travelers….hopefully the command will be detailed enough, if I will it. I just hope Bast actually knows who’s who without me looking.”
 
Scylla lifted the flute to his lips and began to play. The flute produced a complex series of notes, clearly practiced and very difficult, but the sound was incredibly alien. It seemed to resonate, thin, but echoing as if it spanned a great distance. It did not seem to conform to the sound that should have been dictated by its dimensions, or even the air outside.
 
Anyone who was not looking at Scylla would have seen a faint shadow pass overhead, but nothing else could be seen of what had just appeared, not outside.
 
 
Elysia & Konrad
 
Konrad appeared behind one attacker, seemingly out of nowhere, and folding his fingers so that they bent at the first joint, like a cat’s paw, struck him across the throat, knocking him over. Konrad, a master of stealth-oriented magic that he relied heavily upon in order to go through a large number of worlds without being bothered, was good at concealing his presence. Unfortunately, despite being struck at the throat, the attacker, by some means, managed to remain conscious, and, from where he lay on the ground, raised his gun to aim it at Konrad.
 
Konrad swept the gun out of the armor-clad individual’s hands, but before he could officially render his opponent unconscious, a dark form appeared from nowhere, snatching him by the leg and lifting him high into the air.
 
The shape would have been something from a horror story.
 
It was so intensely dark, reflecting so little light, it almost appeared to be a flat hole in space, and only when it moved was it clear that the thing was three-dimensional, with detailed features. It was firstly like a human in appearance, a tall, human female in shape, but the head was that of a cat. Ram-like horns curved away from the thing’s head. On its legs where the ankle of the human foot should have been, instead there was an extra length to the limbs, and large, paw-like talons, which now gripped the gunman Konrad had initially attacked. Its left arm possessed a paw-like hand, tipped with sharp talons like the creature’s feet. Its right arm, however, instead of possessing a hand, transformed into a large, scythe-like blade almost as tall as the figure at the wrist. Feathery, vulture-like wings tipped with three claw-like appendages at their ends flapped without a sound, silent like an owl’s, keeping the creature alight. It seemed to be wearing some sort of cloak, falling to the calf and splitting along the sides to just past the knee, and there even seemed to be earrings at the base of the thing’s ears.
 
The gunman that the thing had grabbed squirmed in the creature’s grip helplessly.

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Celo on Thu Apr 13, 2017 8:05 pm

No one else seems to have noticed the plant - maybe it was just her imagination? Let's hope so.

Riley winced when she finally managed to focus on the conversation, her chocolate brown eyes avoiding Honey's plant, all the while; the thought that the reason for the shooting was mostly over a political (and somewhat racial) issue added to the sour taste that seemed to have randomly settled in her mouth. The Primacy and Fellowship both took part in such questionable actions, and she had helped to effect such an event. "It is a stupid reason to kill," she muttered meekly, sounding more like she was talking to herself rather than the group.

Now that she was trying to calm down and paying more attention to her surroundings, her attention shifted to the fluctuating emotions of the screaming sickle. Geeze, she hated that thing. If it were not for "Desert Woman," as Riley was now calling her, correcting it, she would be scolding it, as well, only with more evident irritation.

When Scylla mentioned the fighting, Riley flinched. Once again the voice in the back of her mind reminded her, You could have stopped it during that one moment you sensed those emotions... No, she didn't have the time; Don't think like that, Rye. Another dart back into the present scene; Scylla was talking about his ability, presenting a flute to the others. She watched with unease, now recognizing his power to possibly kill someone. This resurfaced the question of what would happen they found out who she was and what she did.


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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Glict on Fri Apr 14, 2017 9:42 pm

Goose noticed the big black silhouette, quickly understanding that it had similar intentions as his own. Goose quickly hatched an idea, and cracked a wide grin. Judging by the ferocity of the creature, he assumed that it was strong enough to help him with his idea, he just hoped that it wasn't stupid enough to think that he was trying to help the soldier. He called out, "Now you see, this is exactly the reason why you shouldn't have been a terrorist; cause you're ****en bad at it."

Goose then reached out into the air and made a slow pulling motion at the gunner, lifting his body sideways by the head. The gunman desperately grasped at his neck trying to do something to stop the telekinesis, but all he could do was scratch at it. Goose then pulled back one final bit, which tore the head from the neck. It was rather gruesome, but Goose wasn't phased by it. He actually looked at the gore in an inspired and awed manner. He pulled the head over into his hands and held it up like it was a soccer ball. He yelled at it jokingly, "You ****ed up buddy!" He then tossed it aside like it was nothing.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Canis_Dirus on Sat Apr 15, 2017 11:46 am

With the gunman's head ripped off by Goose, with the help of whatever that thing was, only one gunman was left. It was almost too easy for Desin to take aim at the man's neck, and use his eye beams again, as the man was too focused on his companion's killers to notice him lurking by the wall. As with the other terrorist, a chunk of his neck exploded and the man dropped to the ground, dead.

Desin then began to walk carefully away from the wall towards Goose and the monster, looking around carefully for any more gunmen. Seeing none, he moved to within a few feet of them, and spoke, mostly addressing Goose, but including the shadow in the conversation. "If that's all of them, I suggest we move outside"

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by StoneWall on Sat Apr 15, 2017 4:53 pm

Veil had vanished from his position on the second floor walkway, evidently confident that the other Travelers could dispatch the remaining shooters. Some of the Travelers had gotten so close to the shooters that Veil was unable to safely fire again. Instead, he opted to leave his exposed position beside the upper wall, and traverse what he assumed to be the empty storage warehouse in order to reach the first floor. Repositioning himself would grant the element of surprise and a new angle from which to shoot the attackers. However, by the time that Veil had reached the lower part of the main hall, all that were left of the gunmen were their corpses. Large, rather bloodthirsty-looking Travelers stood over their corpses. Veil took a deep breath, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and walked cautiously toward the other Travelers, and kept his right hand on the hilt of his sword as he approached them.

Veil was wrapped in sturdy bandages from head to heel, with only small parts of his hands and talons being visible. The small patches of exposed skin were mottled and rough, and from his fingers extended black, sharp talons. His chest and back were protected by metal-alloy plating that vaguely resembled a box, though its bulk did not restrict Veil's movement. His long, slender arms and digitigrade legs, lower back, and pelvic regions all had this metal-alloy plating on them at various places, and all of this plating shared a pattern of dark grey and azure blue coloring. Upon closer inspection, one would be able to see faint, worn geometric patterns etched into the metal. His elongated head, vaguely reminiscent of a bird's in shape, and also covered in bandages, had two goggle-like apertures present on either side, which enabled him to see the world around him. However, the apertures were both covered with darkened screens, preventing anyone from seeing Veil's real eyes. Also notable about Veil was his height, at seven feet five inches tall.


He walked up to the group of Travelers, and said in a low, slightly muffled voice, "Where to next?"


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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Prussian on Sat Apr 15, 2017 5:36 pm

The fight was over unfortunately quickly, and though Callisto had had less than her fill of souls, three was apparently enough for now. She could come back later, anyhow. But then, she may not have to - who can say for certain how many future opportunities like this she could come across?

Get a grip.

She watched as the other travelers, surrounded by the corpses of attacker and victim alike, spoke among themselves. One of them - Desin, she remembered - suggested leaving, and Callisto found it very difficult to disagree, especially considering the gory mess that Goose had left of one of the men. Disgusting. Is anybody here clean about anything?

Standing at the doorway of the entrance to the room in which the conflict had taken place, the knight, metaphorical nose turned upward, turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction - outside, where the others remained. Sure, a small, insignificantly minuscule part of her ached at the weight of the souls she had taken, but she had been doing this for a millennia; life was much too long to become emotional every time she had a meal, after all.


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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Sairei on Sat Apr 15, 2017 6:59 pm

It’s easier to focus all of your loathing on something foreign.

Thray found the large-eared, furry being’s thoughts to be remarkably close to home. Of course it was always easier to blame someone that was different for the world’s problems. Sentient beings feared change and always flocked to the familiar. It was one of the reasons wherever he went he half-expected someone to shoot him in the back… and on several occasions, someone had. This place was no different in that regard, though he supposed motivations were likely to vary.

At the mention of fighting Thray grew further interested. He had trouble understanding this ‘power’ business everyone here seemed to make sense of, and the sudden flute playing didn’t seem wise. Briefly he considered leaving; it seemed likely there was nothing to gain from sticking with these people, but he didn’t know where else to go. If there was a fight going on within the building that place was off-limits. He doubted any of the security guards would talk until the situation had been dealt with. Quietly, Thray sighed in resignation. All he could do was wait.

Thray sat down cross-legged on the pavement, his dark cloak gathering around him in faintly shimmering folds. With nothing better to do, he lifted his forearm and went about mapping the new stars overhead, the bluish light from his ‘watch’ illuminating his face. It was an arduous task that would likely take him several days to complete, but at least with basic scans he could get started. Would star charts of another world prove useful? Maybe not. But it at least gave him something to tinker with.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Tarragon on Sun Apr 16, 2017 6:04 pm

Elysia, Konrad, & Edward
 
“-Well, I would not have the faintest idea what everyone else plans on doing, but I have this one here for the authorities. I believe they would appreciate this.” Elysia cut in, emerging from behind the white fold-up table, blood crusting her left shoulder, the last, surviving gunman squirming in her grip to get away. With red dragon claws locked in a vice-like grip around his throat, barely giving him air to breathe, all he could do was flail helplessly with his remaining good arm, and try to kick at her with his legs. Of course, his right arm was still functional, so Elysia yelled with surprise when he lunged forward suddenly, choking himself a bit, and dug his fingers into the bullet wound that she had managed to seal up using magic. The injury began to bleed again, and the woman, now extremely angry for trying to minimize the attacker’s pain, quickly grabbed the offending hand before it could be pulled back.
 
Elysia fixed a rust-colored glare on the visor of the man’s helmet, his remaining good hand in her left dragon’s claw, “That was a mistake,” She growled, before grossly twisting the man’s arm with a horrible-sounding snap. The black-clad gunman screamed in pain, but Elysia was not through yet, “Not only the arms, but the legs must be injured, as well.” She said, her voice eerily calm and even, despite the wound in her shoulder throbbing painfully. She reached down with her left claw, forcing her hostage to kneel, while she proceeded to grip his knees and crush into them, popping joints out of alignment, so that he nearly collapsed. Elysia quickly let him go and grabbed him by the back of his vest instead, so that he was not suffocated by her grip; he could not stand properly by himself, now. Meanwhile, her left hand hovered over the bleeding injury, and tiny white sparks were barely visible under the scaly red palms.
 
“I had finally healed it to the point that it was not hurting so much, and then you go and dig your fingers into it.” She grumbled, looking at her now pitiful-looking hostage with disgust, before turning to the others. “Now, if anyone does not mind me asking, what are these strange, miniscule cannons that I continue to see at every turn? Surely you have a different word for them? My world has no reference, unfortunately.”
 
“They are called ‘guns’,” Konrad replied, looking at the strange, vulture-cat humanoid suspiciously. When Goose had killed the gunman in its grip, the thing had released the body, though it now silently hovered where it was, neither making gestures nor speaking to indicate that it was trying to communicate.
 
“Well, the projectiles launched by their so-called ‘guns’ were charmed.” Elysia continued, seemingly very irritated at the concept, “Armor-piercing, elemental negation, making them harmful even to beings formed from energy.” She pulled up one broken arm on her hostage and fingered the fabric of one of his sleeves, “Their clothing is charmed as well, protection from basic offensive magic like fire or lightning.” She let go and the gunman yelped as his damaged arm flopped down by his side again. “They have had the help of a mage, or they have stolen magic from somewhere.”
 
Konrad looked at Elysia and raised one brow, “If you continue to injure him further, he may develop internal bleeding, or die from the shock.” He said calmly.
 
“I am not willing to be sympathetic to his suffering.” Elysia growled, “You saw why I broke his bones. It shall take a full night to repair my injuries to ensure the full range of motion is not impacted in my arm. I do not like pain, and although you will probably consider my temper ridiculous, there is a hole clean through my shoulder, and it does not feel pleasant in the slightest.”
 
“Hmph,” Konrad almost laughed slightly at this. It was such a blatantly honest statement. The shapeshifter winced whenever she moved her left shoulder, it was clear to everyone present that it was quite painful. If it had been a clean, smooth hole where the bullet had entered and left, the gunman digging in his fingers had opened it and torn the tissue in a painful, rough manner. There was the risks of infection to go along with the worsening of the wound.
 
“Well, shall we turn him over to the authorities?” Konrad said, gesturing with one hand to the hallway and front of the building beyond. “-That seems to have been the last of them.”
 
At this, Konrad started out through the hallway, and when he entered the next room, paused, looking around. “…Hm….where did he go?” He mused.
 
“Where do you think? I just tried to make myself less visible. Not so easy, given all of the muscles in my right leg have locked to protect my hip from further injury.”
 
A voice emanated from the philodendrons.
 
Konrad’s eyebrows shot up, and he went over, bending over and lifting up a clump of vines that fell away to reveal Edward, who had hidden himself perfectly among the leaves.
 
“You are surprisingly calm about this,” Konrad commented.
 
“I have seen far too much today to be surprised by now.”
 
As everyone left the room where they had fought, the dark shadow, which had initially began following them, suddenly dissipated into a cloud of dark smoke.
 
Ed looked at where it had been, frowning, “That was sudden.” He said.
 
“I suspect it may have been summoned by someone, versus being a Traveler itself.” Konrad replied.
 
Honey, Scylla, Lynn, & Mouse
 
There was a great commotion at the front doors as security stepped aside to reveal the Travelers who had been fighting the gunmen. One among them, a woman in a dark, iridescent-looking hooded cloak, tossed a black-clad man who almost appeared to be dressed in riot gear to the ground. All four of his limbs were broken, twisted in unnatural, hideous positions. His exposed neck was an ugly shade of purple, and he gasped weakly with pain as he landed.
 
“This one is so you might learn why this place was attacked,” The woman said, coldly.
 
Authorities looked at both the woman and the crumbled heap on the ground suspiciously, before warily approaching the wounded gunman, lifting him up and assessing his injuries. They concluded that he was lucky to be alive, given that he had been choked, and suffered serious breaks on all four limbs, amongst them one where a fragment of bone might cut dangerously close to an artery.
 
Meanwhile, Lynn, who had heard the familiar voice, went out and saw the state of the gunman that Elysia had brought back alive. “My goodness, he is half-dead!” Lynn exclaimed. “Surely you did not have to go this far!”
 
Elysia, now having put her right arm over her left shoulder, fixed a glare on Lynn, “He dug his fingers into my wound…” She hissed.
 
 
Meanwhile, Scylla ran up to the others within the group, “Uh….hey…did you guys…uh…see a cat-vulture thing appear by any chance?”

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Celo on Sun Apr 16, 2017 7:10 pm


Riley sensed the emotions before she saw the Travelers come outside, feeling uneasy upon recognizing the emotions of the man in major pain. It was a mixture of emotions she could easily ignore unless the subject was meeting a gruesome, slow death, or during a time in which they thought they were near death. It was always a pitiful mixture of acceptance and refusal, with hope nipping at the corners of each thought. Adding to these emotions is fear - fear of what may be on the other side of the veil, questions of whether death will reveal a gruesome, disfigured face or one of calm. Sometimes the person’s last moments can reveal what they believed. For the violent, they usually displayed fluctuating amounts of fear that reached its peak at their last seconds. For others - Riley recalls her mother’s mom, for example - a strange calm swallows up the uneasiness before even that fades away.

In this case, the holder of such emotions was scared, however, and, judging by the emotions, in intense pain. The emotions made Riley wince, grinding her teeth together at the thought of what the person may be going through. The emotions were quickly changing, however, to hold less fear, replaced by a sense of relief and followed by a small amount of guilt. However, ever-present throughout each change was some sense of resentment. The lure of curiosity about such emotions was almost unavoidable as she gravitated towards them, following after Lynn.

When Riley arrived, she wished she had not gone to find out the source of the emotions and stared at the bloodied gunman before her. There was a strong longing to look away, and yet, at the same time, some twisted part of her conscience made her continue staring at the man. Riley’s throat began to hurt as tears threatened to fill her eyes for the umph-teenth time. The limbs were twisted in ways they should not be twisted, making it quite obvious the man was tortured, explaining many of the resulting emotions. The thought of the perpetrator of such a scene finally encouraged Riley to look away, instead focusing her eyes on those who had just left the building. Given Lynn’s current conversation and the uneasy emotions the security guards seemed to radiate, it was quite obvious who created such a scene, and the irritated emotions from the woman did not help Riley to have any understanding.

This resulted in Riley’s own emotions swelling with anger. At least she felt some guilt over hurting someone, and the thought of herself identifying with the gunman did not help her personal control of her emotions. She found herself clenching her fists as she glared at Elysia.

“You… you don’t feel any guilt at all for this,” Riley hissed, what would normally be a question coming out as a statement. “And you did it over a stupid injury that amounts to nothing in comparison to what you did to him!?” Riley noticed her own voice rising and caught herself, realizing that she could attract attention she did not want. Even so, she felt the need to add in a much quieter voice, “You couldn’t have at least ended his suffering?” She looked down this time, still fuming but refusing to say anything else for fear of revealing anything about herself. Even so, she internally voiced her distaste for the woman and her treatment of the man Riley could identify with.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Glict on Sun Apr 16, 2017 10:19 pm

Though Riley had not wanted the attention, Goose glanced over at her. He could tell that she was angry, which annoyed him immensely. He spoke to her, though didn't sound angry. instead he sounded more sarcastic, " Yes, we should've let him kill someone. Then he would've deserved it." He looked over at Elysia, "Shame on you, for harming a man that would've done the same to many more innocent people." Goose took a quick disdainful glance at Ryley. He then exited the conversation by wandering a small ways away from the group, muttering two words, "****en idiots."

Du-Gant had stopped flailing and screaming to notice the group congregating, and arguing about something that he cared about very greatly. He would've screamed at Elysia, but she scared him too much. If she could do that to a man, just imagine what she could do to an old fragile piece of metal. It was better not to get involved.

Not unlike Du-Gant, Thukr saw that as an excessive amount of force. She didn't seem angry, but she made it clear that she didn't agree with Elysia's methods. She stated simply, "I think that that was too much torture."
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Sairei on Sun Apr 16, 2017 10:53 pm

Thray looked at the mangled creature that the other, angry female seemed to have disposed of. One of the shooters, it seemed, or what was left of him anyway. He didn’t know much about these aliens’ physiology, but somehow he doubted that those limbs were supposed to bend in those directions. Judging by the reaction from the like-bodied female, it was as he feared: a particularly brutal takedown. It wasn’t so much the violence that bothered him as it was the clear lack of self-control and the general disregard for any sort of police force or governing body. If anything, she seemed proud of what she’d done.

“Who died and gave you authority?” Thray asked rather bluntly. “This isn’t your homeland. You can’t go around breaking people’s limbs. We’re the aliens here.” It was basic explorer etiquette as far as he was concerned. When visiting an uncharted world or other unfamiliar territory, it was usually a good idea to familiarize one’s self with the laws of the land. While self-defense was acceptable, outright cruelty to one’s attackers was outlawed. It was one of the many reasons he’d decided to leave the building rather than stay and fight. This… this woman’s actions were a true diplomatic nightmare. “Where I’m from,” Thray continued in a level, almost bored tone, “you’d be arrested on the spot and probably sentenced to at least a few months of incarceration.” He shrugged and folded his arms. “But we’re far from civility, it seems.”
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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Tarragon on Mon Apr 17, 2017 4:16 pm

Elysia looked at Lynn, who had taken to silently glaring at her, and the one girl who seemed upset for reasons she did not fully understand. She permitted the girl to rave at her, until she spoke more quietly, asking whether or not she should have ended the man’s suffering.
 
This was followed by Goose insulting the girl and Lynn, the sickle hanging back in the distance, and then Thukr, who was quite frank with her opinion, though rather calm in stating it. The one alien was quite quick to accuse, though not without reasons, and not quite as heated.
 
The woman turned and looked on as the gunman was slowly moved away on a stretcher, into an ambulance, by paramedics, before an elderly, bearded man, one of the agents at Central, stopped them as they were boarding the ramp, “This man is in charmed armor, I need to remove it before you take him.” He said. The paramedics began to insist, he needed medical attention, but the old wizardly man cut them off, “-I’ll have none of it, he’s been helped by a mage, the seals need to be studied. We need to find the culprit, we cannot allow rogues to use magic to aid in their schemes. This is ill news, this is the first time they have gotten ahold of such things, these are powerful elemental protection spells…”
 
Elysia sighed, and turned to the group, “If you are angry, or disagree with my methods, I will accept that. You do not need to understand, and it is unlikely you will try to do so. I do not feel ‘guilty’, as the girl said, because in my eyes, that man is deserving of everything I have done to him. You will probably not feel any better, with what I say after this, but here are my reasons.” She looked at Lynn, “Pay close attention, this concerns your laws as well as mine.”
 
She pointed to where the grey-bearded man, who must have been a wizard of some sort, was holding his hand over the chest of the gunman, now with an oxygen mask over his mouth. The old man was chanting some sort of strange language, but it must have been an incantation, as green flames flickered across his palms. Elysia’s hand, meanwhile, remained a blood-crusted dragon’s claw, the ruby scales glinting ominously, but proudly beyond the dullness of the slain foes. One could guess the dragon whose scales Elysia was borrowing must have been a noble creature in stature, if the scales alone were a reference. The blood seemed to fit, somehow, but then again, a predatory creature was known for killing.
 
“That man, and six others, were wearing charmed armor, and using enchanted weapons. Not only mortals, but immortals, incorporeal beings, and elementals, were murdered in cold blood. A mage has helped them cheat the laws of nature, and has allowed them to drag higher creatures into their petty spree, and even if people were to take shelter, the projectiles from their weapons would still pierce through at a fair distance. If this world has no magic, someone from a word containing magic has allowed them to use it. Beings that have lived for thousands of years, or even spirits that have already died once, perhaps, have been snuffed out in a single act of violence. Alongside the immortals, were the bodies of small children. The room where they began their attack is a horrific scene. The seven people who came wielding these ‘guns’ had no mercy, not by my definition, and likely not yours, either, and were using magic, which is something that is exceedingly dangerous in the hands of those who seek to indiscriminately kill.”
 
Elysia turned to look back at the people, “Magic has potential for both incredible good, and horrible wickedness, most people would be aware without that being stated aloud, and although it may be used to fight for self-defense, or to deal with rogue magical creatures, to use it for warfare, or to attack civilians, is taboo. Even a lowly criminal would not freely use magic to harm someone, unless they are simply that depraved. Upon seeing the bodies, I had already set my heart upon killing them because murder is an evil thing, but when I sensed that there was magic involved, and saw among the dead the remains of creatures that should have never been slain, I decided that, as much as I did not wish to let them live, one culprit would be needed.”

She scowled darkly, “The mage that assisted them cannot be permitted to roam free, and anyone who wishes to commit a similar act in the future must believe that they will suffer consequences. Fear-mongering is unpleasant, I did not initially harm that man, but he continued to struggle and fight back, and seeing as he would not stop attempting to strike me, I eliminated those factors. Only one arm was broken initially, but that was because if I did not fool the others into thinking they had killed us after the shelter I took failed to shield us, they would have succeeded, and I am no actor, I cannot fake authentic pain; I did that out of desperation. His scream saved both his life and mine.”
 
The combination of emotions that came with Elysia’s statement was extremely complex. There was regret and remorse, perhaps contrary to Riley’s initial accusation, most likely for the breakage of limbs, but there was also a clear stubbornness about an equally-large seething pit of anger, outrage over what Elysia had apparently seen inside of Central. There was horror and alarm, perhaps at the realization that magic had been used. If Elysia regretted going as far as she did in breaking the man’s limbs as a deed, there was very little regret at inflicting harm on the person. Both emotions were extremely great, but the anger was the kind that would overwhelm a person’s better nature. Elysia did not consider the gunman a good person, and there was a clear openness about the way she had presented him to the crowd, which corresponded neatly with her statement, which seemed to be that she had made the man into an example. Overall, however, regret was not the same as guilt, and Elysia did not feel a great deal of shame that she had committed the atrocity. She would regret the action, perhaps, but she did not feel guilty.
 
Beneath the tangled mess that was on the surface, there was something like the kind of fear that was present in the people when they were fleeing the gunmen in the building initially. A kind of hypervigilance that, if noticed, would have actually been present, long before the attack began. It was the kind of unease that a rabbit felt whenever it left its home, fearful of a predator, and it seemed even more alert than what might be normal. Those aware of this layer of emotion would realize Elysia was waiting to see if she was going to be attacked, especially now that people were angry. She was guarded, wondering if she would be forced to fight. There was a chiding feeling, a kind of mocking sense that she should have never expected anything different aside from this reaction she had produced in others.
 
The feeling of prey-like fear seemed constant, and regardless of Elysia’s expressions, never changed; it was unnaturally strong, even compared to the majority of traumatized victims outside. With this fear was an intense sense of hopelessness that seemed constant and unchanging in equal measure, and a sense of being resigned, as if these feelings were accepted, cemented as permanent things. The emotional pain had been pushed into this layer, and forced to remain bottled up, instead of expressed. The sadness in this layer was not simple depression, but a deep, prolonged form of despair.
 
Elysia, it seemed, merely accepted as fact the negative criticism aimed at her, and internalized a belief that she was incapable of anything better than the deeds she committed, and that there was likely no reward for behaving honorably. This feeling of uncertainty was more akin to a victim of trauma, someone who had no sort of consistency in the systems of rewards, and therefore did not understand when they would receive a reward or benefit for an action. It was hallmark amongst some Changelings, and even a few Travelers in the crowd. This uncertainty reeked from Scylla, as well, though the difference between how it was expressed between Elysia and Scylla was drastically different. It was likely this insecurity that led Elysia to go overboard, the intense fear and belief that it would result in a painful consequence if she allowed her enemy to remain able-bodied, though that was hard to see in her sea of anger. Elysia appeared to view the world from a lose-lose point of view.
 
On the surface, Elysia’s face remained calm, perfectly hiding her real emotions, and she scanned the faces for a moment, before speaking again, “Now, that is the logical reason for taking a prisoner, and his initial broken arm. The reason for why I went so far and broke his remaining three limbs, which is more personal, is that I do hold grudges over the abuse of magic, because of certain events in the past….I have seen what those sorts can do, and it is with those types that I abandon the slightest shreds of decency….”
 
There was a sudden flash of purple flames up from where the wizardly Central Agent was attempting to remove the protection spells from the man’s vest. “Sweet merciful…!” He exclaimed in shock, backpedaling to avoid being burned. One paramedic was burned, and backed away, screaming, hands over his face, where the skin around his eyes had been scorched.
 
Elysia looked at this, and glowered, “It had a backlash to prevent tampering…” She growled. “His eyes were trained enough to spot the spells, but the backlash must have been sewn into the inner lining to make it less-visible….I should have cut the thing off him…that is not a beginner’s level spell…”
 
Concerned civilians ran over to the injured paramedic, but he continued to wail with pain, before it faded into agonized whimpers. It appeared it had not hit his eyes, he could see, but the skin on his face was broken out into angry red blisters.
 
Lynn rubbed his temples with frustration, but his face had gone pale at the ball of fire, and his emotions were a combination of horror, shock, anger, and perhaps, on some level, disappointment, as if he had expected Elysia to do something better than the course of action she had taken. Mixed with these feelings, however, was a sort of grudging reluctance, and even acceptance, although it seemed extremely painful. It was as if Lynn were grappling with some very strong feelings of anguish, as if some part of him could not accept what had happened, or what Elysia’s very actions were, despite solid proof. It was plenty solid, the ball of purple fire was obviously magic.
 
“You…..” He began, searching for words and shaking his head slowly, “What you did….that is still….not justifiable…..but…..if what you say….is true……then…..at least the live hostage…..was needed….beyond shadow of a doubt…..” He truly struggled to say a response. It was clear he did not want to say Elysia was right in any sense, but in the end, at least for the reasons of taking someone hostage and leaving them alive, it was logically sound.
 
It was still disturbing, however, because even as he accepted the reasons, Lynn did not like the method, “Have you….never been told that hurting someone and inflicting pain….is wrong…? I do not mean….innocent people….but those who are criminals…who pose a personal threat to you….?...Could you not have disarmed him….without causing injury…? This….this is not civil behavior!...As this stranger says….you could be arrested!”
 
“If I thought I could expect ‘civility’, then we would not have fallen through a portal in the first place.”
 
At this, Elysia started towards the paramedic, and the gunman seemed to almost stop breathing for a moment, as if he were holding his breath, terrified. The concerned Travelers who had gathered around the paramedic backed away, frightened.
 
 
 
Elysia ignored the gunman and the Travelers, and went to the paramedic who had been burned, who looked equally unnerved. His eyes, squinting from the pain of his facial features, darted uneasily towards her sleeves, which he knew hid blood-covered gloves.
 
“I cannot heal major injuries deep below the surface easily, but I know white magic, and I was negligent in not seeing that backlash spell.” Elysia said, slowly removing a glove from her right hand.
 
Elysia’s hand was covered with scrawled, spiral-like tattoos in black ink, which shimmered iridescently, even at a distance, suggesting there was something magical about the ink, “Hold still, close your eyes, and do not open them until I say so. I am going to treat your burns, that is within my power, and I am to blame for your injury.”
 
The paramedic reluctantly closed his eyes, and forced himself to put his hands by his sides and stand still. He looked extremely scared.
 
“Alright, you may feel a strange tingling, for a moment.” Elysia snapped the fingers on her right hand, and the tattoos flashed white briefly, before a white flame began to dance between her fingers. She moved forward, and with the kind of care that someone would have used to finger a delicate flower’s petals, placed the flame on the man’s forehead.
 
The white flames flared upon contact with the blistered, burned skin, as if fed by the wounds, and spread until the paramedic’s entire face was glowing with white fire.
 
Despite the fact that they were flames, the man did not cry out in pain, or even seem to recognize that his face was on fire in a sense. He stood there, his face burning for several more moments, people around him raising a few sounds of panic, before the white flames suddenly fizzled out, not even producing smoke as they vanished, revealing fully-healed skin, somewhat paler than the rest of the man’s body, but undamaged, free of blisters.
 
“Open your eyes,” Elysia instructed. The paramedic opened his eyes and reached up, feeling his face, and seemingly unable to believe what had just occurred. He stared at Elysia, slack-jawed.
 
“This is by no means an apology,” Elysia turned and glared at the gunman, who shrank back in terror, and yelped in fear. “I cannot believe I am doing this for your sake, but if it kills the pain, that will suffice.”
 
Elysia flicked her fingers again, and placed a white flame along the gunman’s neck.
 
The gunman screamed in terror, and Elysia, oblivious, or unsympathetic to the fear, calmly said, “It is a healing spell, you saw what it did for the doctor.”
 
Of course, the gunman continued to scream, as white flames licked away his bruises, before spreading to his arms and legs and, versus dissipating, sinking deep into his limbs. The scream was abruptly cut off as he stared at her, his breath fogging the mask on his face. He seemed to relax, and the pain had faded into a dull, aching sensation, versus sharp, stabbing agony. He was still terrified, but the pain had been greatly lessened. One of the paramedics tapped an arm, checking the gunman’s pulse, and murmured to the bearded wizard that the man had seemingly stabilized, and his pulse had become regular. The heartbeat was no longer unnaturally weak or erratic.
 
“The others found my treatment of you disagreeable. In all honesty, you should be very grateful they did, because I have no other reason to care what happens to you.”
 
Elysia turned and slowly walked back to the other Travelers, and looked at them, simply seeming tired, as though the healing spells took immense effort in some way, “Now, is that enough?”
 
It was then that Elysia was interrupted again, by a short, stocky blue reptilian creature in a grey suit tugging on her cloak,
 
“Excuses meeeessss misssss…..” He said, his words tinged with a thick, unusual accent worsened by his serpentine voice.
 
“Theeeee Agentsssss fromsss Mainnn Branchesss-“ He paused and slowed down his words so that they came out more easy to understand.
 
“Woullld like to sees youu.”
 
“Very well.”
 
Elysia followed the blue reptile Agent without complaint.
 
Another agent, similar in appearance to the blue reptile, except the lizard-man appeared to have pink scales, looked at Goose, Desin, Veil, and Konrad, who had emerged from the building.
 
“Sirs….” The pink lizard-man said, “…Theeey waaant to speeeaaak to you….assss welllll….”
 
 
“Good grief!” A familiar bipedal crocodile appeared from the crowd, eyes narrowing irritably, “They leave town for one day……..let me through, let me through!” Mr. Humpback walked over to the sides of the building.
 
“Alright, gents! The building is clear, but the scene needs to be cleaned up! We’re going to enter a different set of rooms through this side of the building, here!”
 
Along with Humpback, other Agents from Central began directing Travelers towards the other side of the building from where everyone else had initially been, leading them around a corner.
 
“We’ve managed to have a late meal prepared, please, eat as much as you like, or not at all! We perfectly understand!” A froggy voice croaked, as Dr. Gill hopped into view from where he must have been sticking to the sides of a white bus. He stood back up on his hind legs, and clasped his fingers together, closing his eyes and smiling, but this normally-cute expression seemed horribly sad.
 
 
The Travelers were slowly filed into a different set of rooms in the building, into an enormous white room filled with set-up tables and chairs. A loading bay with several trucks in it was open, allowing breezes to come into the building from outside. Men and women in crisp white aprons were pulling out cartons of food and setting them down alongside a large buffet.
 
One set of doors, however, across from the room, had ‘Do Not Cross’ yellow tape stretched across, and two agents stood there, blocking the way.
 
Clearly, this led somewhere into the rooms where the bloodbath had occurred.

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Re: Travelers (IC)

Post by Celo on Mon Apr 17, 2017 8:10 pm

Riley continued glaring at the ground with her arms crossed when Goose insulted her, her expression not changing in response and deciding she had a distaste for such a character. Even the words of the others did not help to calm her emotions - they supported her anger, in fact, as it helped her justify her own view of the situation.

When the woman spoke her defense, however, Riley's expression slowly relaxed into one of confusion. It was not because of the woman's words that her profile changed, so much as a realization of the speaker's own sentiment in the situation. Because of Riley's focus on the shooter's emotions, she had not closely read the woman's. The reading of such emotions affected Riley's own stance regarding the situation to being one of warring intermediacy. While she wanted to believe that the woman was completely in the wrong, another part of her recognized that there was some truth to the woman's words and with that truth some emotions that affected the events that led to the man's state. Even so, Riley could not help acknowledging that the woman went too far, and even when she healed the gunman, the fact remained that the woman probably would not have done so had it not been for the reactions of everyone else. The man's emotions changed with the healing, resulting in Riley's own emotions relaxing in response to the changed environment. With that, she forced herself to ignore the subject and direct her attention towards the crocodile... person... thing that approached them; so far no one had asked her any questions, and Riley figured that as long as she went with the flow of things, that would continue to happen.

As they walked around the building, a frog approached them and started speaking (Riley briefly wondered what was with all the talking animals; she internally joked to herself being in a Disney movie, at this point.). The mention of food made her mouth want to water, but it was too dry to do so. Even the cloud of negativity that surrounded everyone, filling the environment with embittered emotions could not deter her anticipation of food. When they arrived at the room, Riley's eyes avoided the yellow tape. At this point, Riley's "Things Not to Look At" list was rather long and continued to grow. Considering the buffet was still being set up, Riley decided to spend some time talking to the reptilian being (Thray) who had spoken to the woman before. She hesitantly approached him, plastering the calm smile that appeared almost like a smirk on her thin lips. She used to make such an expression often, but after the day's events, such a smile felt taboo.

"Thanks for the argument for the gunman earlier. While the situation worked out, your words were very-" Riley searched for the word that best matched her thoughts on the matter "-appreciated." The sickle and green rock... thing spoke up for the gunman, too, but it was difficult for Riley to get past their rather unconventional appearances that made the most abnormal of Changelings seem normal. As she spoke to the Traveler Riley internally dubbed "Green Guy" until she could find out his names, her large brown eyes glanced at the buffet table, her own feet moving with the crowd of Travelers, whether they waited or moved to line up for the food.
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Re: Travelers (IC)

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