E X E C U T E [O:RO]

[Polemos]

Hundreds of track marks were crushed into the dunes of the desert, only to be picked up by the dust storms and vanish without a trace. Hidden in the swirling tint of gold marched troop after troop of heavily armed foot soldiers, likely sweating under bullet proof vests and protective cloaks. While sunglasses, scarves and face masks kept the sands from nipping at their cheeks and noses, somehow it managed to infiltrate every other crinkle in their armor, even going so far as to jam the guns slung on backs and holstered at sides.

In addition to sand slipping through every crack, a steady cloud of exhaust wafted through the ranks, leaving some in coughing fits, to be drowned out by motors on the massive tanks that lead their way. Such was the life of an Aethian grunt, whether part of the official guard or a last minute mercenary, paid or threatened into assisting the siege on the ORG.

Just about everyone who'd been celebrating the Summer Solstice Festival had witnessed a vibrant blue streak cut through the stars like butter, but few had the means to get to it. Few excluding the military, who'd been tracking this mysterious object since it entered the Polemos atmosphere, and would pay just about any price to get their hands on it. For science? For worship? For warfare? The major wasn't sure. Frankly, he wasn't paid enough for this.

His lips parted and smoke slipped out, fleeing through the open window of the jeep he road backseat in. Together, he, his men, and his tanks rolled together under a glaring sun, all feeling the pressure of their country's leader to get the job done right. It was simple, really: get out, get the thing, get back. Kill anyone or anything who gets in the way.

Excessive? Perhaps. Command Sergeant Major Griffins was hardly the type to enjoy a blood bath. Nor was he the type to disobey commands, unfortunately, and sometimes, the job called for dirty work. Though, their trip had been relatively silent thus far. Almost too silent, like the fiends and criminals were all preoccupied. Perhaps they were busy, holding up explorers or traveling merchants on the dusty road they'd long since strayed from. Or perhaps they knew better than to take on an army.

...

Nah. Probably busy eating people. Either way, that kept them out of the Major's hair, a blessing of Aethel herself. It was possible it was the goddess' will for them to secure this blue comet. Everyone had their own beliefs of just what, exactly, this object meant for the world of Polemos. His would remain a secret.

He uncrossed his legs and stretched them across the floor, allowing his toes to wiggle and the blood to flow once more. Being so cooped up for hours made him uncomfortable. "Evans, are we there yet?" He yawned, eyes glossing with fresh tears of sleep deprivation.

There was only a sigh from up front. "No, Major, sir. We are not. While nobody has sights on our target, radars reads that we're close. Please hold tight."

Griffins snickered. "Is that an order?"

No answer from up front, just a quiet sigh. Corporal Evans was probably ready to pull out his gun and shoot Griffins himself. The thought humored Griffins.

In the distance, beyond rustic fencing and electrical wires that occasionally sparked to life, tossing and turning in the sand their prize waited: a massive chunk of black rock that pulsed silver and bled strange blue liquid. The whole rock gave a low frequency hum.

It had crashed through the ceiling of an abandoned mess room, stationed towards the center of the Oil Rig Graveyard, or the ORG, piquing the interest of all Viperus Steeltails who plagued the area. Certainly, this unidentified meteor would present something of a challenge to secure--to all who hunted for it, Aethian Military or otherwise. Here, in a metal coffin of poison and flame,  hundreds would fight, and many would die.

None of this was news, though. By the time the meteor had made impact, all of Maquina and half of Vida were aware of this fact. With the country of impact as militant as it was, its workers largely unsatisfied and relentless, secrets spread like wildfire. From new privates assigned to the mission, to engineers below the bases, to seamstress wives in the towns, to bounty hunters roaming the outskirts. Rumors reached even to the ears of small children, who now spent their time at recess playing treasure hunters on the playground.  

All the world was apprehensive. Some enraged, some excited, some simply curious of the actions to follow. Only one thing was certain: a large change was afoot.

Spoiler:

[Menel]

Somehow he hadn't expected this. He should have, as much experience as he had in the line of fire he should have expected the military to be crawling around all over the place. The worst part really was that since he'd traveled with Laven cross-country rather than following the roads was that now the military was all around them. Forwards, backwards, it really didn't matter. They were surrounded. A thought that made Menel's skin tight with fear. If any one of those men found out about the mark on the sole of his foot...

It'd seemed like such a good idea at the time. Escaping the city with Laven, getting away for a little while in the hopes that no assassins would try their hands at his neck way out here. Even taking Laven with him because the elf was determined that he have someone to watch his back and because... He wanted Laven there. His blue eyes kept flickering toward the other man, he was glad that Laven was so good at sneaking around. Had quickly realized that if anything Laven was better at it than he was.

Menel had spent years hunting wild animals, creeping close enough to deer to touch them. Laven had spent many more than that hunting men. Creeping close enough to steal their lives.

He wished they could turn back, return to relative safety but it was like fate was working against them. Every time he turned their steps that way there was a patrol going by. Leaving them with no option but to move forward. Ever closer toward the meteor that had drawn them here in the first place. Closer to danger. At this rate they'd reach the meteor before the military did but... He couldn't determine by how much.

Silently Menel made a small motion with his hand catching Laven's attention with it and signaling that there wasn't anyone ahead of them. It was as clear as it was ever going to get. He hated the open spaces where there was so much risk that they could be seen. It seemed though strange to be grateful for ancient machinery that no longer worked and gout's of flame that burst forth from the ground almost unexpectedly. Anything to draw attention away from them. To conceal them.

The swordsman dashed across the space, his body low and fingers close to the blades that hung at his belt. Praying to the stars unseen above him that they wouldn't run into anyone.

Spoiler:

[Nocme]

Seeing the blue streak, Dace screamed and pecked for Nocme to get up and follow it. Even though she was still lying on the floor trying to recover from a botched assassination job and a brawl that happen right afterwards. She wasn’t sure why she would be needing to go there, its just a big giant dumb rock. At most it could get her some money and favours, but having to compete against a whole bunch more assassins and other fighters? Nah she couldn’t be screwed.

Dace seem to have another idea. He squawks and tugs at her scarf until she stumble to the street. “For f- sake what is the matter? It’s just a shooting star...” she mumbled tugging her scarves back to cover herself up properly. Best to not let anyone see her face. Dace instead landed on top of her head and continue pecking gently to get her moving towards the rock. A few moments later she was sick of it. So defiantly she find a seat and sat down to massage her legs.

The xavar was so tempted to screech loudly to draw everyone’s attention, however he got a better idea. Instead of pecking her, he cawed gently into her ear and nudge her so she could look towards some young kids passing by circling their mother trying to herd them back inside.

“Mommy! Mommy! Are we really gonna chase after it?”

“Yes, yes its part of Daddy’s job, now quick go change so we don’t miss the caravan”

“Is everyone going to go?”

“YES, NOW GO QUICKLY OR WE’LL BE LATE”

A thought enter Nocme’s mind, when she thought about it further, she face palmed in disbelieve on how long it took for her to get it. “She could have gone there... I could find her there probably...” Dace smiled, smug that he finally convinced her to go. Though it still doesn’t stop his friend from glaring at him, “I know you wanted something else from the blue rock but do you really have to peck me that many times? I would’ve got it sooner or later.”

Dace Laughed, obviously mocking her statement, making her pinch his little cheek in retaliation. Still she could feel her heart beat faster. Finally after all this time there is a chance she could find her dear friend.

+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+

Going there was easy. There is a ridiculous amount of people wanting to go there for the riches, and they are all in such a rush none of them really checks their cargo for any stowaways. The only problem Nocme face was the need to constantly switch cars or carriages to avoid the military. They are everywhere.

Many time she has to make the civilian’s stand out briefly, let them be caught by the man with guns so she could slip past them and head towards the rock. However as she go further in, it was harder and harder to go forward. Many of them patrol the area, forcing her to almost move exclusively at night just to get closer. Catching only few hour sleep during the morning when she was sure her hiding spot was secure.

During those time Dace stay close to Nocme, not daring to fly out at all with so many people and their own personal xavar squad. Thankfully she manage to steal enough crackers to bribe them all, making them turn a blind eye on the duo. Occasionally he could sneak out the keys to gates or press buttons indoors to let her through. Might get some poor cadet in trouble but its not her problem.

She just need to get close to get what Dace wanted. At the same time using the same mysterious blue rock to carefully draw a crowd, if the Goddess was with her, she may be able to find Ceberas. Maybe...

Spoiler:

[Laven]

Following Menel's lead had been easy in the wilds they had traveled through to reach the ORG. Laven knew the wilderness of the concrete and reinforced steel, but out here with the burden of nature all around them the swordsman was a master survivalist. It had been a very long time since Laven had spent significant time outside the cities of Maquina, and now he was far more concerned with watching Menel's back than following the trails broken by deer and avoiding the nasty creatures that would take the pair for a snack. Laven almost felt like an afterthought. Clearly out here there was nothing Menel was in danger from, at least nothing that he couldn't handle with those swords. So Laven had spent a great deal of time watching him, and learning.

But it was interesting for Laven, watching Menel go from being outside his comfort zone in Laven's world of assassinations and familial ties to being in control, keeping both of them in relative safety while on this mad quest to recover a meteor that had crashed down in the wastes.

It wasn't Laven's best choice for a second date, but as he and Menel had traveled he decided it also wasn't the worst. When he had mentioned that to Menel the poor man had blustered and turned red before informing Laven that this was no where near a date. That was for a time when they weren't sleeping  in shifts. Laven had bumped the outing a little higher on the rankings at that.

Then they had spotted the first waves of military behind them, and Laven had just for a moment wondered which one of them they were coming for. The cold sweat didn't vanish when they realized the army was also hunting the rock that had fallen into the sky. Now they not only had competition from any other fortune seekers but also government-sanctioned hunters? Laven had slipped back into his mantle of assassin and their pace had slowed to a crawl as they dodged patrols and made sure not to leave any trails.

When Menel motioned for him to follow Laven had tightened the hood of his coat, making sure his ears were hidden once more before taking off after him. It would be bad to be caught, and worse to be caught and judged solely on his heritage. The brand on his wrist might save him (and by association Menel) or it might be ignored.

There was a beaten up fence ahead of them, not quite useless but with enough gaps and loose boards that if they could reach it and slip inside the barrier they'd have a breather from the army at their heels. Silent boots tread over rock and shifting gravel as the elf slipped past Menel and cautiously pressed against the rotting wood, holding up his gloved hand for Menel to wait as he investigated what lay on the other side.

Caution leant Laven shallow breaths as he listened for telltale shuffling of both booted feet and scuttling claws. Creeping along to the nearest open gap in the fencing stirred up nothing more than the dust around Laven's feet, and when he spared a quick glance around to the other side he sighed with relief and motioned blindly behind him for Menel before slipping inside the outer perimeter. His fingers curled around his dagger despite the apparent lack of danger. There was no sense in letting himself relax just yet.

Spoiler:

[Regazzoni]

||||||||"Get out of my way!" Two men in full combat gear lay on the ground, their stomachs each flattened by sucker punches. Even with them down, Clay stared down the barrel of a much larger gun. A barbed wire fence couldn't keep him from where he was going; so they put a tank in his way. His scowl contended with the tank's artillery; if looks could kill, he might have been winning the contest. A voice came from within the vehicle: "You are not authorized past this point. Put your hands in the air and surrender yourself."

||||||||"I said, get the hell out of my way!" Would be the only reply he got. Well, unless you count fists.

||||||||Within seconds, Clay would be climbing the underside of the tank; using it as a bridge to cross over the 10 foot tall fencing that had barred him previously. It took the young man so much to get to this shitty continent, and the military expected a hunk of metal to slow him down? In blind rage he rushed the vehicle and slammed his stony fists into the treads, lifting up with enough force to toss it onto its backside. Before he continued towards the mass of exhaust fumes ahead of him, he robbed one of his casualties of their protective vest and face mask. The Maquina military was already ahead of him, and there was no way they were the only ones up there. It didn't matter how many guns were pointed at him, or how many people he needed to tear through to get to that stone. There wasn't an object immovable enough to stop him anymore.

Spoiler:

[Aziel]

Though it took some time to make its way up the ranks--perhaps more time than information so vital should have--eventually it reached the ears of Major Griffins, who couldn't help but roll his eyes. As was suspected, spilling blood on Aethian soil couldn't be helped.

He flicked his wrist in a manner Evans was very familiar with, resulting in the Corporal giving an order to detain or, if necessary, obliterate the enemy that had apparently taken a liking to tank tossing. Griffins wasn't impressed.

Several soldiers hurried off in the opposite direction and halted one of the marching companies, passing directions on. In turn the military branch turned on its heels and mounted their rifles, waiting for their foe to fall into sights. The back line surged beyond their wall of pointed weaponry with their own guns in hand, hunting for the figure described as an aggressive young blonde who seemed to control earthly element s.

Meanwhile, all remaining tanks rolled forward, their drivers aware of how unlikely it was to land attacks on individual figures. Two of them, overly cautious and likely newer additions to their platoons, rose through their tanks' roof hatches with machine goes in toe, scanning the perimeter for the noisy brat in their way.

Towards the front of the army, several meters ahead of the pack, a handful of scouts cleared the road of what were initially harmless birds and desert goats, sparing an occasional glance through old-fashioned telescopes and over radars for anything suspicious. For once, tradition was superior to current technology, and the device that picked up heat signatures was virtually useless in the heat. With the dry air lingering about at upwards of 120 degrees, it was honestly no surprise that the tech malfunctioned.

But it left the soldiers more work, which wasn't entirely favored, and generally skipped. Afterall, they were just looking for a big ass rock.

And so, as they neared the facility, the scouts just barely missed two figures wriggling through the fence, failing to call alarm. Though one soldier came close to sighting the boys, he was promptly distracted by an enormous wire falling loose from the mechanical confines of a nearby watchtower, and flailing through the air. The black cord tossed and hissed with electricity, drawing the army's attention away from an iron gate that locked them out, and, more importantly, the faulty perimeter that had allowed treasure-seekers in.

[Menel]

Menel was not unaware of how close they came to being seen. The military was far to close for comfort. There was no going back no matter how much he'd come to want to. In spite of trying to keep them out and away from where the meteor had landed, they were in fact driving Menel and Laven closer. The swordsman slid beyond the fence and headed further. He'd caught sight a little further back of where he was pretty sure the meteor had landed. Near as he could tell the massive building off to their right a bit was missing it's roof almost entirely. At the very least it would be a good place to start.

He creeped closer. Thanking years and years of hunting wild animals for the silent fall of his footsteps and his ability to blend in with his surroundings. The swordsman ducked around the building and let loose a small sigh of relief. It wasn't likely that the military would see them here. As far as he could tell they hadn't breached the fence yet. Mostly keeping everyone on the other side of it rather than heading in themselves. Likely they were waiting for someone higher up the food chain.

Together they followed the line of the building until Menel found a door. It was old and slightly rusted, held in place by chains and a heavy lock that Menel frowned at. He could probably break the door open, particularly considering that it was weakened by rust, but trying to do so would make a lot more noise than he was comfortable with. Even if they'd put a little distance between them and the military...

What was the noise coming from the direction of the road? He was to far from the corner of the building to look but it filled him with nervousness and Menel made a motion to Laven, lifting his first two fingers, then dropping them over his fist with his thumb caught under them and rotating his right fist over his left fist. The elf had spent a bit of time on their way north showing him a few hand-signs which Menel quickly realized is what Laven and Revina had used to talk to one another in the kitchen. It seemed that there was a complete language of unspoken words. Menel had caught onto it quickly, some of the signs familiar to him as being close to ones that he used to communicate silently with others while hunting or on a job where he didn't want to talk and give away his position.

Effectively he had just asked Laven if he could unlock the lock, though it was a touch rougher than that. He was certain that the elf would understand, in fact he'd be surprised if Laven wasn't already thinking about how to undo the heavy padlock.

Spoiler:

[Nocme]

There was a commotion. It was loud even though it was far away from what Dace noticed and Nocme was not sure whether she should thank the person or shout curses at him or her. On one hand he did distracted enough of the guards so the ways are now clear. However, her carefully laid route from previous scouting is gone to waste, she doesn’t know how the guards are positioned anymore. There were several more close call as she has to duck to the side to avoid runners and soldiers rushing to confront whoever making those loud ruckus on the other side.

Dace crowed a bit from beneath her cloak, it was getting stuffy in there and she could only give him an apologetic smile before dashing quickly to another building when the soldier turned around. Slowly but surely they are getting close. At least she hope so, she is following Dace’s direction mostly. Whenever they get the chance, Dace would fly up to the sky and gather intel so they could navigate through the complex military camp.

Suddenly Dace started to wiggle a lot, trying to get out under her large cloak. The elf however hold on to her friend tight until she manage to hid herself properly in the shadow of a watch tower. Only then she let him out. Dace pecked her hands a little harshly, obviously annoyed at the treatment.

“I know I know, but there were three guards there.” She hissed quietly before opening up a pouch. Inside there is dark soot collected from a camp fire. Very useful to blow it into some guards eyes before they notice her, or make an otherwise a very noticeable Xavar less noticeable. She pour some carefully over the bird, doing her best to get most of the white darkened and not into his eyes. Even Dace stood still and carefully spread out his wings so she could get the soot to some more hard to reach places. He hated the dust, but he also knew it was for his safety. Thanks to the dark ash he was able to sneak into some places more easily as well as hiding amongst his peers. They were also kind – or rather bribed – enough to help hiding him.

Soon he was at least covered enough so the white does not stood out. There is a commotion and they are not wasting this chance to scout out a quick route out of the military zone and into the wild, where the meteorite hopefully is. “Be careful out there,” Nocme whispered before playfully wiped her hands on his beak. Dace pecked back, gentle to soothe her, before spreading wing and take flight. While he goes to scout, she will continue to move forward with their previous path.

Dace flew higher than usual. Enough so soldiers without a telescope would only see a black spot. He was also careful to not get sighted by observing the glint from binoculars and telescopes. Still he was low enough to easily see the guy throwing rocks around, fairly far away from where Nocme is so she should be safe and away from the concentration of soldiers swarming there. Double checking the old path also show that she has a relatively peaceful route with few essential guards.

Everything looks good, and there are even few surprises. As he was circling back he spotted a familiar white hair, with someone else close by. He didn’t swoop down, no the ash tends to get dislodged during ascent and descent, it would mean giving away his position and he wouldn’t be able to get back to Nocme. So he just observed from his vantage point. The man seems to wanting to get into another locked area, and wasn’t really too far from the path Nocme would have followed. Considering what happened last time, it might be safer to get her to join with those guys.

With that thought, Dace started looking for Nocme. Just has to regroup with her and plan a new route to find some old friend who might be able to help.

[Laven]

Laven blinked once at Menel and winked instead of answering, slipping past him to crouch and examine the lock carefully. He was more than a little on edge with the sounds of fighting behind the fence they had slipped through but it was distant enough to not be pursuit for the two of them. The crunch of metal and the rattle of gun fire had his jaw clenched and his eyes darting all around them. But here it was still, just the whisper of sand over steel and stone and the sound of Menel's near silent breath next to him.

Laven carefully placed his knees in the dirt and sand, gloved fingers reaching out and taking the lock with reverence and caution. It would do neither of them any good for the lock to have some kind of ward on it, nor for him to pull at it and have the mess of chains make noise and give their location away to either man or beast. It was old and heavy in his palm but not as complex as Laven had feared.

Glancing back at Menel Laven raised his hand towards his cheek, fingers curled into a loose fist except for his index and middle finger which remained extended. With his palm outwards he extended his hand forwards, taking in the space behind the small shelter they had. Look out he signed, slipping his gloves off and tucking them into the belt around his waist and reaching into a pocket to pull free a small cloth wrapped bundle. Once revealed it was clear that Laven had a set of lock picks on him, dark in color to keep the metal from shining if a light was cast over the area where he was crouched.

Trusting in Menel to have his back covered, Laven once again focused on the padlock. A thin line of flat metal was inserted, a second line with a hook at the end joining it as he began to manipulate the mechanism into recognizing his tools as the surely long vanished key. Each tiny motion forwards was accompanied by an upwards tap of the second torque, Laven listening and feeling for the tiny movement that meant he had put the pin in the correct position. None of this was new to him when breaking and entering always meant making sure no one knew that someone had trespassed.

Silence and the sound of metal just barely scraping against metal and then Laven made a soft sound of pleasure, jerking the padlock downwards so that the loop popped away from the base. With swift and economic movements the torque and pick were returned to their wrappings and stowed into the pocked Laven had retrieved them from before the elf tapped Menel's thigh and nodded towards the door.

Slow. He signed as he began to unwind the chains with as little jostling as possible. His gloved hands helped muffle any noise as the old and rusty metal clinked together within them until Laven had the length piled in his hand and the lock itself deposited into one of his hidden pockets, still open in case they found need of it.

Ready. Be safe. Together.

[Regazzoni]

||||||||In a sense, really, this position was advantageous to Clay over the Aethians. The persistent fog caused by the sandstorm closed off visual contact, making it difficult if not impossible for the rest of the military to close in on him when spotted. In essence, like a bottleneck; not around any specific location, but between the golem and the soldiers. And after all, the soldiers didn't have the strength he had, did they?

||||||||Hearing the unmistakable sound of tank engines roaring and men shouting over the wind, he had to think of another solution to his problem. He'd have to get close again somehow to flip more... Or he could use his surroundings. The ground was covered in- made of, really- boulders cut up from the rough terrain. He sunk his hands into one, roughly the size of his torso, and his skin began to harden. This would work perfectly.

||||||||"Hey!" Clay shouted out towards the nearest tank he heard, boulder in hand. A mass of steel rolled softly into his field of view, and immediately the hatch opened up. A soldier holding a minigun popped his head out, yelling something incoherent over the wind. Before his finger could hit the trigger, a mass of rock slammed into his body, plugging the hatch of the tank. "Get fucked!"

||||||||Thus, the time crunch began. Perhaps every other tank would begin to converge on this location soon, searching for him; he could only disable one at a time, and even then only with the proper resources. He would have to pray that the enemy team had really bad aim. Clay wasn't quite comfortable with that. As he charged up to the tank, he peeled a strip of steel off of the front of the tank. Sure, tank rounds could get through his rocky armor, but he doubted they could get through this. If they could, well... he's been overestimating the army for a while, if that's the case. He disappeared from the disabled tank immediately; it would be best to circle around, to avoid being easily seen. Maybe lugging a giant chunk of metal wasn't the best plan with regards to conspicuousy, but if it kept the bullets out of his lungs, it was probably his best option.

||||||||As fast as his legs could take him, he ran out from the incident site and towards the blue glow still ahead of him.

[Polemos]

Finally, a set of scouts reached the rickety iron door that barred them from the facility. They messaged in with their commander and received order to remain on guard until the proper tools could be transported, leaving treasure hunters with half a brain the sense to hide or flee.

Media would no doubt be chomping at this meaty bit in just a few days; Griffins didn't have the charm to be on camera, and Evans simply didn't want to prepare a speech, so they were left with few options other than to be environmentally friendly and not cause a scene. Except when under assault as lives always came first.

Griffins received word of this earth elemental still putting up a fight. Immediately and with uncharacteristic sternness, he ordered post around the entire facility: not to let any civilian or journalist in and not to let any suspect out.

Thanks to the vast size of his army, his web would be dense with soldiers--a conservative move on his part, that concerned Evans, eaves-dropping from the driver's seat.  Corporal Evans had accompanied Major Griffins on many of his risky escapades of the past, having rolled his eyes at every one of them. Play rock paper scissors with the enemy, send thousands of spiders into enemy camp, Griffins was chock full of dubious battle plans. But he couldn't recall flanking the enemy to be one of them. Was Griffins... actually, truly serious about this battle? He could feel his heart pound with excitement. Finally, a real, true battle. Evans would get to use his gun. Give orders and kill invaders. Serve his blessed goddess on the battle front, like he'd always--

Evans blinked, being absorbed back to reality. The slowly applied pressure on the gas pedal went missed until the a woman's family, silky voice gelled through the intercom. "I don't recall this ever becoming a Grand Theft Auto mission?" Even over sound waves, the intensity of her sass could be picked up. Suddenly the young Corporal was calm, albeit inwardly bitter. He recognized who had intercom'd him: one Madison H. Saffron, a stuffy biologist "pleasured" with the "opportunity" to work on such a high priority mission. She was about as much a people's person as Evans or Griffins.

The jeep slowed in accordance with Saffron's request, though they'd covered quite some ground due to Evans' dysfunctional driving; their destination could be seen coming up ahead--a massive, dilapidated fence struggling to stand perimeter guard, with holes and weaknesses still undiscovered.

Scouts waved down the jeep, which slowed to a halt. Out came the duo of leaders, one with straightened shoulders and hands behind his back, the other yawning and stretching fingers towards the sun. "In the trunch, boy." After acknowledging their superiors with a curt nod, the scouts hurried around to the car's trunk in search of chain cutters.

Griffins strolled towards the bars, inspecting their rustic coat. He gave them a yank, to which the gate moaned in  protest. All Evans could do in the background was sigh as their current position was revealed.

--

Meanwhile, towards the back of the ranks, all hell had broken loose, with tanks being disabled by a golem-like entity, the earth elemental. And with the swirl of dust and sand whipping across the battlefield, using further bullets was completely useless. Even snipers couldn't get a good hit with their scopes on this steel-clad savage.

They'd have to go with another approach. But what? More.. guns? Less guns? Lasers? Nervous soldiers twitched their fingers above manual controls and swapped looks of uncertainty. Then each tank and vehicle got a message, courtesy, yet again, of Miss Saffron. "Cease your fire, I'll take it from here, boys."

Plunging out of the fray was a rickety mucus colored jeep, drifting over the dunes and swiveling around, sending a spray of sand beyond her vision. She stepped out of the vehicle, boot heels crunching down the tiny golden grains. Wind pressed with all its might against her white cotton tunic, catching on the golden sash hanging over her waist.

Saffron trailed the sound of steel dragging across rock until the dark green piece was in her sights. "Sometimes, you just need to let a woman handle these things." She muttered to herself, lifting her palms. A cyclone of flame whirred out from her opened hands, crashing into the steel and licking around its edges. Was anyone craving cooked golem for supper? Things were about to heat up.

She gave a wicked smirk, flame sparkling in her hazel eyes. The dancing embers shadowed across her baggy clothing like writhing snakes, climbing through the wrinkles of fabric blowing with the wind. "By order of the Maquinian National Military, you are under arrest for the sabotage of a high priority military mission, and treason against your country. Surrender immediately, or be stopped by any means necessary. And believe me, sugar, I will stop you." There was a primitive bloodlust that seemed to resonate from her very core, making it abundantly clear that miss Saffron very honestly meant those words.

ooc//BLESS U ALL FOR WAITING FOR MY SLOW ASS
HERE U GO

[Menel]

Menel didn't have to be told to keep a watch out, but he grinned at Laven only half-nervously and slid his blue eyes over what he could see. He flexed his fingers a little, trying to resist the urge to have one of his blades in hand. When he could draw them in less time it took to blink it was hardly a good idea to walk around with them bare in his hands. The gleam of metal would give them away more surely than his white hair would.

Laven's efforts were nearly silent, and only Menel's tense expectation made the occasional sound of metal against metal audible. Not so subtle was the sound of the gate. Tension rolled up Menel's spine, and he let out a long easy breath. Like a viper he poked his head around the corner of the building, then pulled back. The motion was so fast that his mind didn't actually have time to properly register what he'd seen, so he stood in the safety of the temporary concealment to and let his mind catch up with his eyes.

There was a man at the gate. Military colors. Possibly with others. It'd been the briefest of glances and it was enough. The military had caught up to them. Laven's touch on his leg brought his eyes down sharply, and he was sure that the elf could read the sudden concern in his eyes. There wasn't time to explain. He nodded once to Laven's signs, then slid his frame through the opening.

Then he froze only three steps in. Quickly the swordsman held up a hand. He hoped Laven would stop behind him, that the door would be closed enough for the military to decide to just guard this place for a while rather than charging in. Because if they charged in right now...

Menel doubted that he'd be getting out of this.

The room which had once been a dining hall hardly looked like one anymore. Tables and benches were ruined lengths of plastic and metal. It wasn't the decor that had Menel's attention though. It was the scorpions.

Not just one or two, but a whole nest of them. And not small ones; each one was easily nine feet long discounting the tail which was just as long as the body. Menel ran quickly through in his mind everything he knew about the creatures and their habits while he held perfectly still in the hopes that they would not notice him or Laven. They didn't have good eyesight in spite of the many eyes - a fact he knew from fighting ones of a like size to this one. They did however have an incredibly keen sense of the vibrations around them. The fact that they were nocturnal meant that they were all awake, which was likely why the creatures were moving about.

He was totally unfamiliar with this particular breed of scorpion which had to many legs and fore-claws, not to mention the metal covering their bodies, but he knew that all scorpions were photosensitive. Preferring only to come out in the light of day, and often scurrying for cover if chased off with a torch or the like. He knew this, but if he was wrong about this particular kind of scorpion... The light that he produced would invariably draw attention to them.

Menel glanced at Laven, making a tiny motion to catch his attention. Quickly he signed. Man. Door. Come. The rudimentary manner of communication was mildly frustrating, and if he'd been more fluent he could have explained in greater detail, but as it was he could only work with what he knew and hope that Laven understood the difference. That there was a man at the gate and that they might come here. He improvised slightly and made a saluting gesture to indicate that he was talking about the military, and flickered his eyes meaningfully toward the scorpions that would likely attack if they tried to draw further into the room, or if they made any sort of sound.

He definitely didn't know the sign for scorpion so he pointed to the creatures and then signed. No, fire, light. Then touched the hilt of his sword. He could make fire with his blade, possibly scare the creatures back... but they'd know where they were, and if the flames didn't intimidate the metal-covered scorpions then they'd be caught between a scorpions and the military.

[Nocme]

It didn’t take long for Dace to find Nocme again. She was stuck between the patrol and resort to squeezing underneath the space of a car and held on. After the initial panic, the military seems to final settled and spread out their patrol again. In a very different formation and she doesn’t dare move out from underneath the car. It kind of got worse when the car is moving. Now there is no chance for her to get out now, not to mention she hope her glove can survive the heat from the engine lines or that her cloak won’t be seen trailing out from underneath the car.

Dace can do nothing to help until the car stopped. Ironically it end up where he would have lead Nocme anyway. Now she has a safe passage undetected all the way to the break in the fence. He will take that good luck any day. Even if she doesn’t think so, holding on to her dear life underneath the car, getting pelted by rocks and trying not to feel the burn from the engine.

However even as the car stopped, Nocme couldn’t get out from underneath – not right away with that many people parading about. Two people – obviously leaders of the group, seems to be giving orders from what she is hearing and looking at the foots. She wanted to whistle and call for help from Dace, but he might not hear it if its too low and its too loud she will be found. And frankly with the Lavate mark on her back, she doesn’t want to be found.

It took a few moment of foot soldiers running to get the wire cutters to leave the vehicle with minimum security. Allowing her to slip out and quickly hide behind some rocks. She can’t really go through the fence yet, there are some already heading for the building out in the distance. She could see Dace circling high above as well, with no opening for him to dive down and give her cover.

She hated getting stuck in a place, but it’s best to wait and observe. Who knows, maybe the wild life around here give them a hand. There are plenty of bloodthirsty creatures who love to chomp on humans when they got into their territories. On the same thought, hopefully Dace can read the situation and definitely not provoke wild animal attack. She wasn’t always sure if it was for prank, distraction or the fact for an albino Xavar he seems to live life as if you only live once.

Nocme wasn’t wrong.
Dace has a rock in his claws.
Picked up while following the car to their current location.

He just needs to find a good target to drop it on.

[Laven]

Laven had his eyes on the way they had come, walking backwards with ears twitching at the sounds of gunfire and distant voices fading. Turning he ran into Menel's back and found himself grasping the swordsman's waist carefully to keep himself from being knocked backwards and making  more noise. Red eyes took in Menel's hand signs, and with silent steps he moved so that he could see around his greater mass.

Viperus Steeltails. Of course. They were in the middle of these creature's favored territory and the ground was positively vibrating from the firefight going on outside.

Cursing mentally Laven slipped back like a shadow into the dimmer lit doorway, using one of his gloves to tie the door shut. Not only to keep the rusty old thing closed but if they ended up retreating this way it would be simple to slice through the soft material.

Once he was once again close to Menel he watched the warrior's new signs, parsing together what he wanted. While the scorpions did fear water, being wrapped in metal could make literally cooking them easy enough provided Menel's fires could get hot enough.

Thankfully they had learned on the way to the Oil Fields that Laven's winds were very good at fanning Menel's fires even hotter. One combined attack had caused a small explosion when the vacuum of Laven's winds expanded with blue fires to eat it up. It has startled both of them and almost charred a small copse of trees at the same time.

One of the benefits of being so close to the same height is that it took little movement to have the same view as Menel. Looking at the mass of huge metallic shapes Laven took a steadying breath and signed slowly, eyes fixed on his lover's face before flicking back at the obstacle blocking their way.

Burn them, grow wind, run? If Menel's fires scared them and they made a break for it, they might survive this. If they tried to fight this many it was unlikely they'd come out without serious wounds. Laven's hand slid to the dagger at his thigh despite that fact though. If Menel fought he would too.

[Polemos]

The soldiers had taken up position just beyond the fence line. They paid attention more to the outside than in, every now and then tossing attention to dilapidated buildings and sputtering electrical wires that groaned in the breeze. Those rummaging through the back of the jeep returned with a large pair of chain cutters, fitting them to the hanging steel and snapping it clean. They clanked and swung to the ground with a jingling thud before the scouts dragged them to a place more convenient. Griffins gave an appreciative nod and parted the gate entirely, allowing everyone to move in. Their group was small, containing just five scouts, Evans and Griffins. Each of them was equipped with a tactical knife and hand gun, barring Evans who sported a military grade rifle. Griffins had the added bonus of a hatchet strapped to his side--for good luck, mostly. He brought it into just about every battle.

The force was perhaps not terrifying in and of itself, but reinforcements were swiftly en route. When the tanks arrived, the entire territory would be stormed by riflemen. It was only a matter of time, now. Only a few more hours until Griffins could go home, and only a few more minutes until Evans could go shoot things. Both of them were left eagerly shifting around in wait.

The scouts murmured amongst themselves during the downtime, as Evans returned to the jeep and sifted around. Already he could taste something odd in the back of his throat--something subtly noticeable but nevertheless concerning. From a duffle bag seated in the back he drew a gas mask, tugging it over his head. He brought an extra for Griffin as well.

The door slammed shut and he made his way back to the gate, boots kicking up a spray of sand. His arm extended to hand the mask to Griffins.

Griffins chuckled, shaking his head. "You look so weird in that, Evans."

"Shut up, sir." His voice was distorted through the headwear, but even so Griffins could hear his discontent.

"Now, that's not any way to talk to your superior--besides, I'm just telling it how it is. That mask hides your ~beautiful~ curly locks." Griffins made a kissy face, an expression that looked quite out of place on his rugged, aged face.

Evans huffed, rolling his eyes. He didn't press the matter, though, and moved to lean up against the car. He drew his pistol and inspected ammo stock. Griffins watched, bemused.

The hum emitting from deep inside the ORG was slowly drowned out by the sound of the infantry marching. They could be seen in the distance. It felt reassuring--one scout even waved eagerly at the oncoming army.

Griffins nodded and shifted. "Alright, they're close enough to have our backs. Evans, radio in. We're going exploring. Make sure perimeter guard keeps a sharp eye on everything that tries to go in, and everything that tries to go out."

Evans complied as their small group closed in at the gates and, finally, stepped in. The scouts and Evans kept their guns in hand, while Griffins strolled casually, whistling a basic tune. "Watch my back, Evans." The command took the young boy by surprise, but he nodded in affirmation, and Griffins went back to whistling.

From the corner of Evans' eyes, he sees a bird circling, clutching some sort of object in its talons. He raises his gun to shoot the animal down, but Griffins tells him not to bother. The gunfire would only attract unwanted attention. Reluctantly he lowered the weapon and instructed a scout to watch it carefully. Just as a precaution, of course. In stark contrast to his commander, Evans is particularly careful.

ooc//haha what do you mean im trying to make you all get to know your enemies haha what of course not /smacked

[Menel]

Menel was pleased that Laven understood his somewhat parsing hand-signs. The swordsman suspected that Laven was shortening his own signs so that Menel could understand them. He nodded once to Laven so that the elf knew that he had the plan right. Menel glanced back at the scorpions with more than a little trepidation. The usual flame that he lit on his swords was quite hot, hotter than a normal camp fire but looking at the creatures before him...

It hardly seemed like enough.

Silently he drew his blades, and focused his thoughts on them. The void came easily to his mind. Swallowing the doubt of the moment and filling him not with certainty, but with calm rationality. There was no failure or success. Only action. He was never quite sure exactly how the magic worked, for Menel it was... instinct.

Blue eyes opened to the dimly lit room, feeling the heat that emanated from his blades so fiercely that his body would have recoiled from it but he was part of the void now and this fire was as much a part of him as the blades he held were. The blades lifted, lit not with blue flames but at first glance with seemingly none. The flames were nearly invisible in the darkness, but they writhed on his blades with a hunger that he could feel like an echo in his chest.

Menel looked at Laven, lifting his blades and holding them arced so that Laven could work his own magic. They had to be far enough from his own body that the fire wouldn't catch on him, and close enough for him to maintain control on the voracious flames that Laven was about to spread over the scorpions. Flames that would spread from one of them to the other and flash into roaring, consuming fire once released.

Every muscle of his body was tensed, ready to jump away from the inferno that was about to be created and follow the elf.

[Nocme]

Nocme watched the soldiers from her hiding spot. Their quiet banter and the... was that flirting? Really do they have to do this in a middle of a bloody desert with deadly creatures and someone on the other side flipping tanks?

Still those thought didn’t quite dominate the worry in the pit of her stomach. She could hear marching and they are coming this way, reinforcements no doubt. It would make sneaking away harder than it already was. Armed scouts and soldiers are just too powerful and too well protected for her to sneak kill. Not to mention seeing two of them now sporting a gas mask she probably couldn’t knock them down with strong stench or something – then again she hasn’t really thought far enough on how she would do that, maybe use that cheese she stole but had gone off? .... Nah, she should throw that away as soon as she got a chance later.

Back to the problem at hand. There are too many people and not enough hiding place between here and the building Dace trying to get her to reach. At most there is a rock outcrop in the middle of the two points, but there is still a vast empty plain in the middle where she could be easily seen.

Even Dace has been spotted now. With all their careful manoeuvres, one of the soldier spotted him. Nocme’s heart almost stopped seeing the gun aimed upwards at her friend. She even scrambled to take out the dog whistle to try and warn him. It could accidently alert any dogs and other animal that has similar hearing range, but she needs Dace to be out of the sky now. There was a small sigh of relieve when the man lower his gun.

She couldn’t stay in the spot anymore she has to move. So she listened to the wind as the witch in her tribe has taught her. Listen to the way wind move and dance around her, and just... nudge them to another direction. Easily the wind pick up across the plain kicking up the dust a little. Those with no eye protection will need to shield their eyes. It wasn’t great cover, but its all she got. Hopefully her poncho’s colouring could camouflage her somewhat. Still she doubted it.

Dace sort of picked up her strategy and combed it by going the opposite direction and dropped the stone. He noticed the army staring at him, so hopefully he can be a good distraction for Nocme to make a run for it. If not she would probably think of something in the middle of her run.

There are no more choices for her either way.

[Laven]

A firestom, Laven thought, was a dangerous thing at the best of times. He stood slightly behind Menel and watched as the swordsman ignited his blades with almost invisible tongues of flame. The hint of blue in the dark room was subtle and easily lost if he didn't focus his eyes to catch the glimpses. Menel watched the great metal insects where they shifted and seemed to continue to ignore them. The flickering darkness caught in his eyes and reminded Laven of the stillness of him. Of the way he had kept them both safe with his skill.

That would change very soon.

And so, a firestorm. For Menel it was an instinctual shift that drew his magic from him. Something he had little control over. For Laven was not the same. For Laven it was like breathing. Each draw of air becoming him and answering to his call. The elf closed his eyes for a moment and remembered the sensation. Of breezes shifting around him, normally keeping him safe as they became a storm around him. It was simple to shift the eye of his storm. To draw against the fires so hot they were almost invisible and begin to feed them. To pick them up and let them mingle and devour the air until there was a column beginning to form around them. To make sure the flaming whirlwind was between them and the mass of metal claws and stingers.

The pressure of Laven's winds kept the fire from spreading. But it was Laven's will that physically shifted the inferno from small and dangerous to beautiful and consuming, Laven who's silvery violet hair shifted and pulled as the air currants in the room changed. Who's clothing rippled and billowed around him like some sorcerer's robes instead of a simple black coat. Eyes like blood seeing the whole room, watching and moving like a conductor of a symphonic inferno.

It burned. Everything in the blaze's path was eaten and fueled the flickering cyclone of blue and white hot fires. And then it struck the first Steeltail and there was chaos. The screaming of super heated metal and the flash cooking of flesh. The roaring of air being consumed as Laven forced more and more of it to mix with Menel's flames. The sudden hissing of the rest of the Steeltails as they began to move seemingly at random.

"Go!" Laven had to yell the word over the horrible moaning song of the firestorm. The swirling mass of air and flickering fire looking for all the world like some hellish tornado descended into the dilapidated room. With his eyes and hands focused all Laven could do was hope Menel would move, hope that what he had formed would save their lives and not bring the entire building down upon their heads.

[Regazzoni]

Spoiler:

||||||||He was at a loss for words for a good amount of time. The tanks that had been preparing to confront him had turned and left, and in their place was a single jeep, with a single woman stepping out. The metal plate he'd been using as a shield started to heat up, accosted by some sort of fireball. Clay could barely feel the difference in temperature on his rocky skin, especially with the air already being as hot as it was. He stood silently as the woman posed herself getting out of her jeep. This was meant to be more formidable than an entire army? A lick of flames and some threatening words? Breakfast was scarier than this.

||||||||He poised the armoring in front of him, and began to walk forward towards the woman. Those who attack from afar generally get flustered when approached: the golem would have an advantage once he was near her, or so he guessed by how boastful she was throwing fire from all the way over there. "Someone said to me once, you shouldn't say anything if you can't back it up." His voice was muffled under his stolen gas mask. His fists clenched as he took slow steps, making sure nothing got past his makeshift barrier. You would find no respect for a government in the body of this man. Not one that served only itself, and especially not one that used the name of its defunct goddess to justify its actions.

"So shut your damn mouth and prove you'll stop me!" He leapt forward, fists ready to fly.

[Polemos]

The warbling meteor and wave of soldiers storming across the desert simply wasn't loud enough for the deities, it seemed, because out of nowhere a building caught flame. Wireboxes exploded and unstable beams groaned in protest of the swirling blue flames that licked up and devoured everything in its path. Timber fell from roof, crashing into the dust with embers sprawling across the rocky terrain. A cloud of smoke rose steadily from a building to the east of the scout's group, catching all of their attention.

Immediately, Evans whipped his gun into position, finger looming precariously over the trigger. The scouts all rose weaponry in similar fashion. Griffins stopped whistling and pursed his lips, pausing in stride for a moment to view the scene unfolding. It was across the facility, sure, but already he could smell the charred bits of structure and fried tumbleweeds. Inwardly, Griffins was regretting not accepting the gas mask from Evans. Just a little bit.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

Griffins flashed their group a cheesy grin. "Can you guess which way we're headed first?"

From under the mask, Evans' lips curled into a wicked grin. He clasped the rifle's musket tighter in one hand, nodding to the group. "This way, boys." The muffling of his voice added a taste of bad omen to his words. "We've got a war to win."

Please. This was hardly a war. But Griffins stayed silent. It was both rare and refreshing to see his Lieutenant this excited, after all.

The group turned and began their trot to the new destination: a blazing hellhole of screeches and sizzles. On the way, scouts adorned themselves with any protective wear they could, adjusting goggles and scarves until their faces were well hidden from any impending smoke. Or sand. Or any other hazardous materials that were undoubtedly still strewn about the ORG.

Speaking of which. An abandoned oil rig was a very bad place to start a fire. Especially when surrounded by violent carnivores.

The arachnid creatures shuddered and hissed, some backing from the flames while others found themselves enveloped completely. The toxins flowing through their tails bubbled out and dripped to the floor, green ooze puddled at their scuttling feet that tinged the air with a rough, acrid aroma. Judging from the smell, it would be best to avoid getting in the eyes or throat--at least in large quantities. But as a vast grey screen of smoke took the building by storm, it would most certainly grow difficult to avoid with time.

Some Steeltails were intelligent enough to remember how they came in, through a bust in the wall opposite the warrior duo. Others not so much, contributing to the chaotic glint of metal and screeches as they fought with one another and searched for exits. One Steeltail, notably larger than the others, followed its way around the walls until its eyes fell on the new company. Without hesitation the monster let out a piercing war cry and hurdled towards them with claws raised. Though unclear if it had connected them with the fire suddenly eating up its stronghold, there was absolutely no doubt that this Steeltail was out for blood. Its claws thrashed out and clenched close, attempting to slice the swordsman in half.

It was impeccable timing on the part of the scouts to adorn protective gear, for a strong windstorm seemed to be brewing nearby. As an extra precaution, some shielded their eyes with an arm, while others ducked their heads down low. There was a crack nearby as the bird dropped the rock it held, which had Evans grumbling. Man, they could've eaten that thing for dinner. Plucked the feathers out and had a hot, fresh meal in lieu of their victory at the ORG. It sounded better than rations of nuts and granola, at least. The gunfire noise would probably be covered by the sounds of the fire, too. It was a perfect opportunity.

Evans explained his intentions to Griffins, who, with reluctance, gave the plan an okay--but only if he could have a bite. And with that, Evans nodded to the scout keeping an eye on the bird. The scout complied, with swift motion training the barrel of the gun towards his target and pulling the trigger.

Most of the focus was spread between the bird and the explosions, leaving a weakened defense and an agile explorer to pass them by.

Meanwhile, towards the back of the ranks another fire burned. Less intense, but that could change. "Don't say I didn't warn you," Saffron called, eyelashes batting and a twisted smirk dancing to her lips. Oh, how I love when they play hard to get. She aimed and hurled the spiraling infernos in an arching path, with less projectile energy and larger flames to keep it burning through sand and wind. Three cut across the sky, shimmering and smoldering like red missiles.

ooc notes:

[Menel]

It was chaos, and so much more so than Menel could have ever expected it to be. So many of the creatures were on fire that the bright pure white color hurt his eyes. He could hear them screaming. The sound of hissing and popping, the scent of burning metal and something toxic that burned his nose. Whatever it was, he doubted breathing it would be good for either of them. To escape the heat several of the large arachnids broke through the far wall and spilled out into the night.

Without even thinking Menel took several steps back. This was bad. Out there was the military and here was a fire, a tornado of wind and flames spilling out the ceiling and through the whole that the massive creatures had made in the building. All to soon the military would be here, looking for the source of this chaos and they would find fire, and steel scorpions and him.

And Laven.

One of the scorpions spilled toward him, clacking it's claws angrily and screaming at him. It was blind with rage and honestly he didn't blame it, but he wasn't about to stand around and let it snap him in half either. The swordsman neatly dodged under a swiping claw, rolling on the other side to gain some distance and popping up. No he didn't want to try metal blade against metal shield. Undoubtedly like a real scorpion it's hard outer shell was not perfect, but he didn't have the time to find those weaknesses.

"I think it might be time to go!" Menel pulled up shy of Laven, swords sheathing even as he got to his feet and pulling his shirt off over his head. The blue cloth tore in his hands and he sort of shoved half at Laven, wrapping the other half around the lower part of his face. The scorpion was just behind him, scurrying closer and he had to push both him and Laven out of the way of another swung claw. The swordsman cursed, catching his balance and drawing both of his blades again. "I don't suppose that you know an exit that isn't on fire and full of angry scorpions?"

This whole thing had been getting gradually worse and at the moment... Menel couldn't help thinking that things were still getting worse.

[Nocme]

The diversion was perfect. With every military trying their best to shield themselves from the sandstorm and an oddly coincidental explosion, she could slip past them to the nearest outcrop easily. The problem? Dace got shot.

Nocme didn’t hear the gunfire, but she could easily spot the streak of white falling from the sky. Forgetting everything about needing to conceal she bolted out and follow where the white streak fell. Catching her friend just in time in her arms, it meant she potentially gave up the protection of being hidden. But fingers crossed they didn’t notice a dusty shadow in the sandstorm and really she doesn't care. She can't lose another friend.

Dace crowed weakly in her arms, look like the bullet hit a bit of the wings. Not any vital area or places that will cause lasting damage. But it is a broken and bleeding wing, he can’t fly out anymore. She just sighed in relieve and kissed the bird, happy that he is at least alive and that is one less bullet that might come at her.

Now to their current problem, they are fairly out in the open right now with only a few rock outcrops to shield them. Their destination is up in flames. The way they come from has a troop marching all armed with bullets and could somewhat see in the sandstorm. Dace also informed her that there are critters that are not very happy to be woken up in the area. He also gave what she considered as a very stupid plan.

“Dace you are hurt, and there is very little place we could hide... Pissing them all off doesn’t sound like a good idea... Not to mention I don’t think my whistle work on desert creatures...” The Xavar snorted and quickly made a second suggestion. One that is equally bad idea but really it’s hard to argue right now. At this point it’s not whether or not it’s possible. There are just simply no other options for them. Let’s hope the wind is a good enough camouflage and all of their scent is too spread out for any critters to track.

With a careful rummage she dig out a sling to carry Dace with. It did make him look like a baby bundle up on her chest, but it give her hands free to take out the flare gun. It probably won’t do any damage but it should scattered everyone’s focus somehow and she could finally slip to somewhere safer. Hopefully...

Waiting for the shift in wind, she dashed out again. Positioning herself carefully she fired the only flare shot through the group of soldiers. Whether it hit or not it doesn’t matter, the sudden bright fire ball going through their rank will cause a mild panic. Getting them hit and on fire would be a good idea and it would make sure the flare would not fly all the way into the building. There is enough fire there as it is.

[Laven]

They had made a calculated mistake. Laven hadn’t anticipated Menel’s fires to be so strong. The swordsman almost never actively used his magic, so Laven had assumed that perhaps Menel simply wasn’t strong in it. Now he realized it wasn’t strength, but Menel’s desire to use his fires that was weak. They were faced with the consequences now, a firestorm spreading out of his control. Monstrous scorpions scattering to and fro. And surely an army that now knew there was something going on inside their lines.

Laven didn’t have a lot of time to regret his actions, instead splitting his attention in between the barred door and the storm. If he let go of his winds now the cyclone could do anything. Now Laven could at least shift it so that the scorpions were being pushed out, scurrying towards the hole they must have originally come from.

The fumes hit him and made tears well up in his eyes, and Laven covered his nose and mouth with the crook of his elbow until Menel shoved a scrap of cloth into his hands. Laven had enough time to tie it messily before he was suddenly dodging as the swordsman moved out of a huge scorpion’s way. Laven danced lightly on his feet, keeping out of Menel’s way as his blades feinted off of the armored hide. He couldn’t hold the firestorm and help Menel at the same time. All he could do was call a warning when Menel caught hold of him to keep them both out of harm’s way.

Looking up at the collapsed roof Laven’s mind whirled with possibilities. It could be unsafe and trap them just as readily as well as exposing them to the army’s weapons. But unless they wanted to leave the way they came the only other option was following the scorpions through the opening they were currently escaping from. He shifted with Menel, sparing enough attention to the hulking beast attacking them to send a little dirt and sand up into its many eyes with a well placed blade of air. “Up!” He yelled over the roar of the fires. “There, see? There’s a support beam under that bit of roof. It should hold us!” They would have to get past the steeltail first, but once they did it would be a simple climb for two people in their shape.

“I have to let go of the storm once we move. Get up there and aim for the next roof over. We have to keep moving.” Laven watched Menel, watched the scorpion hissing and arching its tail as if to attempt a strike and he did two things in that moment. He shifted low, letting go of his control and yelling at Menel to move. He swept a wave of sandy refuse up and at the steeltail. this time shoving with enough force that some of the old tables and chairs in the building in front of him shifted back as well with barely audible clatters. Then he followed after the swordsman, burning through his magic to keep shoving as many large items between him and the eight legged creature as possible. It seemed to simply knock everything back as it chased them, wicked claws cutting into the loose fabric of Laven’s coat.

He shrugged out of it, tumbling backwards into a controlled roll before turning to chase after Menel up the collapsed ceiling. “Run! Keep going!”

[Regazzoni]

||||||||Clay quickly planted his makeshift shield to his side, slamming his forearms together in front of him to form a stony barrier. The second he saw her flames split all around him, he knew he had to split his defenses. One hit him squarely in his unprotected side, but his teeth clenched through it. It would take a lot more than some heat to get rid of his earthy armor. When he felt the flames strike his arms protecting his front, he charged forward without the shield. If he tried to lug it on towards his opponent, it would only slow him down.

||||||||The wind picked up immensely as he charged forward. In other circumstances he would be glad that he thought to steal the gas mask; he reared his fist to strike his opponent, and a massive explosion went off in the distance. He would let neither waver his concentration; he couldn't afford not to be in her face if she had any more fire in her pocket. I don't play hard to get. Come get me.

[Polemos]

Scorpions spilled out of the building like a hoard of furious bulls, their metal backs giving off blinding reflections in every which way as they scuttled free of impending danger. Their ranks were scattered all throughout the territory, most barred in by the fence. In desperation and weakened terribly by the sun, the pack fell to chaos. They smacked into buildings, with tails lashing about and unintentionally striking their own (not that they cared.) They drilled their hulking claws into the ground, forging burrows all too slowly. Some  crowded under roof tops and pressed up against the sides of boulders, curling up to die, while another handful attempted to follow the humanoids springing to perceived safety.

There was a distinct difference in mass between the these species, though, with the human and elf utilizing their natural balance and agility to escape. The steeltails were bulky, mobility limited and and climbing skills nearly nonexistent. Under the stress of these metals beast, beams and roof sheets began to crumble. They groaned and shifted, stability wavering. The building began to careen sideways, threatening to knock into its neighboring structure like a fallen domino.

Fire consumed the floor almost entirely now, and licked up with perpetual hunger towards the ceiling. Its embers were visible from the outside, flickering through a smokescreen as thick as leather.

Evans had his eyes trained on it as their group moved ever closer, mind no longer preoccupied on dinner. He was totally focused on the shifting building--and weather it would come down on his group. That is, until, the familiar sound of a flare finds his ears, and a scout begins to scream. He whips around, nearly throwing off his face mask, and leaps back from the gruesome scene before him.

The smell of broiled flesh is wretched, but Griffins doesn't bother to cover his nose. Unfortunately, it's a smell he's quite used to. The shimmering light does, however, make his eyes gloss up. But he can't close his eyes, no matter how much it hurts. Evans is stunned, trapped where he's stumbled back to, while the other scouts choke flinch when an ember sparks off at them. All of them are dumbfounded but Griffins. Meanwhile, a young man burns.

Quickly, he rips his jacket off and blankets the soldier, who screeches and yelps as the flames engulf his left torso, up his neck, and catches the scarf on his face. Griffins pushes him to the ground forcefully but with the best intentions, and rolls him through the sand. He works quickly to put out the fire, ignoring the flare that had bounced through the sand several feet away. Without his tearing eyes ever leaving the boy, he gave stern orders to the remaining team. "Nickels. Smith. Find out where that came from."

They nodded and spared a glance at the flare, then the opposite direction, from where it was presumed to have come from. As fast as they could manage the duo rushed over with pistols in hand. Military training made them skilled observers, while the witnessing of such suffering made them feral, terrified animals. In combination, these scouts were deadly. Nickels let out a holler when he caught glimpse of their enemy: a woman with a slender frame, sporting a sling across her chest and a flare gun.

Nickels' blood ran cold. Icy tendrils danced behind his rubs, from the pit of his stomach all the way to his erratically beating heart. With his gun already raise, hands trembling from anger and fear, Nickels pulled the trigger. He held it, and several bullets pierced through the air. They soared across the gap and over the boulder field in which his foe sought shelter.

Smith hustled to the area, standing several meters adjacent to Nickels and providing a new angle for their strike to take. He, too, shot relentlessly into the desert, trying his best to aim for this despicable women.

Evans was only able to move again upon hearing the gunshots. He blinked and exhaled, just finally realizing that nearly the entire time his breath had hitched in his throat. Training had not prepared him for this. Whimpering in the sand, being tended to by Griffins withered hands was a boy hardly over nineteen, with two siblings and a kindhearted mother that sent weekly supplies of snacks and shaving materials to the troop. A boy who joined the military to cover his college tuition. A boy who had big dreams of the future. A boy with a name.

"Tobi," Evans gasped, shaking in his boots. Tobi Harrison and Evans had gone to the academy together. While Evans had proven himself a prodigy and climbed the ranks quickly, Harrison struggled greatly to pass the physical exams. It was only by Evans' influence that he'd even managed to make it as a scout to begin with. And now Tobi Harrison, his friend was writhing on the ground, a bloodied messed with half a face, crying out to Aethel for mercy.

This is what war looks like.

Evans was ready to drop to his knees, entirely speechless, but Griffins dragged him back to reality.

"These things happen, Evans; don't just stand there. Protecting your people is what being a leader means. If you don't want your friends to die, then fucking do something about it."

It came as a surprise, but Griffins' raspy tone was one of soothing to Evans. And every word he spoke was right. Quickly, Evans nodded. He was prepared to take orders and prove himself a capable soldier and leader. He was ready to fight.  And he wanted to. The despair Evans felt deep within himself made way for a new influence to grip him. Anger. Hatred. He would seek vengeance for Tobi Harrison. For all the pain Tobi felt, Evans would inflict it tenfold.

"Stand guard, Evans. It's faint, but something's screeching not far off."

-

Saffron wasn't quite sure if it was a mirage, or if this imbecile actually was hurdling through her flames and towards her. She hissed under her breath, and drew her arms back to summon another wave of fire, but the flames wouldn't come. Shit, she needed a longer cool down. And now she didn't have time.

The stone golem charging her extended a fist, and though Saffron made attempt to dodge backwards, his knuckles connected with her chin. There was an inaudible crack that Saffron only registered out of feeling before her body sprawled backwards into the sand. It was a strong punch, very, very strong. If she'd not stepped back and taken it full force, that might have completely broken her jaw. Instead, there was a throbbing fracture and a newly bleeding cut that dribbled blood down her neck. Instantly, it began to swell.

Saffron let out an indignant snort, furious that some terra trash had gone and messed up her face. Though her had swam, it was tolerable, and the woman had no intention of succumbing to only a single wound.  

She drew herself up from the ground and, in seething rage, summoned more fire. It began with a swirl of blue cycling around her, before the flames expanded into long tentacles that wiggled in the air around her, moving as her command. In total there were eight of them, resembling a burning octopus. She concentrated on the fire, and as if it were a part of her summoned all eight to spring forward and lash about like whips towards the golem.

Clearly he specialized in close combat. But it seemed he failed to take into consideration that Saffron had defenses for that.

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