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Era 7 Ep. 4: The Blood Moon Rises


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Disclaimer: Blood and gore.

Asylum, Smokestack, Smokestack Constabulary

The blood moon shone over Smokestack as Asylum stood up in their cell.

“What’s going on it there.” A guard yelled through the door while rapping his knuckles on it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Asylum said, picking up their spell book. Finally, it would help them. “Would you like to come in, or should I come out?” 

“you’re not going anywhere Smedry.” The guard said, sliding the aluminum viewing hatch open.

Asylum pointed a slim finger towards  the guard and read off an incantation under their breath. Suddenly the guard stepped back, clutching his throat. Blood seeped out of the man’s mouth as he tried not to heave up his insides.

Asyum stepped up to the door and placed both hands on it. As they pushed they could hear the locks snapping one by one. Finally the door swung open to show the Guard, now dead, on the floor. 

Asylum turned as they heard the alarm sounding. They saw the second guard holding the alarm lever in one hand and a revolver in the other. “There’s no need for that.” Asylum said, walking closer. “I won’t kill you.” The guard shook with terror as Asylum pushed away the gun and leaned forward to whisper in the young man’s ear. “I have much better plans for you.”

With one hand Asylum broke the man’s neck. With the other they flipped to a page labeled ‘Resurrection’. They placed the man on the floor and, taking his own knife, made the necessary incisions. They laid a hand on the body, and as they whispered the incantation Asylum’s eyes started to blacken. The body started to twitch as Asylum raised their hand from it.

Guards started to pour in as the thrall rose, but Asylum could already see their bloodied bodies, some rising to their service. They smiled and raised their tome of sin to meet the oncoming hoard. This was going to be fun.

@Lunamor @Longshot97

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Some info about Asylums new powers:

passive abilities: any superstition about witches apply, increased strength, increased speed.

spells: the ability to inflict wounds and illness upon close targets, the ability to summon unlucky animals to their aid (crows, ravens, rats, black cats, etc.), levetation and telekinesis (though it takes much more effort to maintain).

Rituals (these are spells that take a bit longer than others): the ability to turn the recently dead (basically snatching their spirit and grafting it into whatever shape they want. With this, they can create certain mythical undead monsters. ie. vampires, zombies, or ghouls.), Hemomancy (divination using blood), and summoning demons (“Demons” in this case would probably be malicious spirits from the alleys. Like the one that Perses is working with.).

These powers do take a physical toll on Asylum (eg. the blackened eyes) and will not work on people Asylum deems “protected by the powers of good” (eg. Radiants).

 

Edited by Stormlightsong
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4 hours ago, Stormlightsong said:

Asylum, Smokestack, Smokestack Constabulary

The blood moon shone over Smokestack as Asylum stood up in their cell.

“What’s going on it there.” A guard yelled through the door while rapping his knuckles on it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Asylum said, picking up their spell book. Finally, it would help them. “Would you like to come in, or should I come out?” 

“you’re not going anywhere Smedry.” The guard said, sliding the aluminum viewing hatch open.

Asylum pointed a slim finger towards  the guard and read off an incantation under their breath. Suddenly the guard stepped back, clutching his throat. Blood seeped out of the man’s mouth as he tried not to heave up his insides.

Asyum stepped up to the door and placed both hands on it. As they pushed they could hear the locks snapping one by one. Finally the door swung open to show the Guard, now dead, on the floor. 

Asylum turned as they heard the alarm sounding. They saw the second guard holding the alarm lever in one hand and a revolver in the other. “There’s no need for that.” Asylum said, walking closer. “I won’t kill you.” The guard shook with terror as Asylum pushed away the gun and leaned forward to whisper in the young man’s ear. “I have much better plans for you.”

With one hand Asylum broke the man’s neck. With the other they flipped to a page labeled ‘Resurrection’. They placed the man on the floor and, taking his own knife, made the necessary incisions. They laid a hand on the body, and as they whispered the incantation Asylum’s eyes started to blacken. The body started to twitch as Asylum raised their hand from it.

Guards started to pour in as the thrall rose, but Asylum could already see their bloodied bodies, some rising to their service. They smiled and raised their tome of sin to meet the oncoming hoard. This was going to be fun.

@Lunamor @Longshot97

 

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Apologies for the delay again Longshot, I should be able to start replying more frequently now. Also, please let me know if you'd like me to edit the Seiju part, I'm assuming this is what she'd do since you didn't specify.

Seiju suddenly chirped urgently, hopping over to Eza. She shied back, uncomfortable with the proximity to the bird, and swatted at it. It pointedly looked over towards where Eighth had gone, ignoring her hand.

Ah, rust.

Eza drew her knives and ran out of the office door into the hallway her accomplice had headed down. Despite knowing that it was almost certainly useless by this point, she still made an effort to keep her steps silent. She could barely see what looked to be shadows dancing on the side of the wall where it turned a corner. Quickly burning iron, despite the relatively long distance from the metal adorning the combatants, it was easy to distinguish which was Eighth's pouch. The line was distinctly unique, unlike any she'd ever seen.

Eighth was far heavier than Eza was. Most people were, really. Her size was better suited for moving herself rather than moving others. In most situations, that was what she preferred. Flying was better than yanking a person around- unless said person happened to be in trouble because you'd blackmailed him into infiltrating a prison. She couldn't try to pull him anywhere without instead sending herself rocketing towards him. It was simply the laws of physics. There were ways to get around them, however. Stone weighed significantly more than she did, and many buildings conveniently happened to have walls made of it. The blue lines overlaid across her vision told her that Eighth was probably close by. "Probably" wasn't good enough, however. She'd send him crashing into a wall if she did this incorrectly. She needed a visual.

Eza crept forwards, nearly reaching the end of the hall, and peeked her head around the corner. She was both relieved and terrified by what she saw. Eighth was there, in a good position for her to move. There weren't many obstacles between them that he could crash into. He'd either made it almost all the way through the cells or managed to get spotted immediately; the time she'd had to spend waiting told her that it was probably the former. He also was fighting a guard, with several more running in from an adjoining section of the building. She moved backwards again before any of them could notice her. Fortunately, Eighth was providing quite the distraction.

She pressed her back again the wall so that she was facing directly away from the melee, as close to the edge of the corner as she could be while still staying completely behind it. Facing forwards was a terrible idea unless she felt like radically readjusting her nose. Based on the angle of the line she was focusing on, her plan would probably work so long as she extinguished her iron soon enough. Eza took a deep breath, steadied herself, then flared her iron and pulled as hard as she could. Anything less would move Eighth slowly enough that she'd only throw him off balance. Immediately, it felt as if something was trying to pull her inside of the stone itself. She was slammed backwards into the wall despite having already been pressed against it. The natural arch in her back had provided just enough empty space to allow movement. The force was strong enough that it was impossible for her to breath; the blue line connecting to herself was just below her chest, so the pressure was most concentrated there.

She saw the blue line getting closer, the metallic pouch yanking her friend rapidly away from the fight at a pace far faster than could be achieved on foot. She waited for a moment more, then extinguished her burning once the size was large enough to indicate that Eighth was getting close to slamming into the wall she hid behind. He'd have to deal with some momentum, but nothing that should mess with him too much. She wheezed, dropping down a few inches and bending over. She wasn't sure if she'd broken any ribs or not. Had that gone on any longer than a few seconds, she would've definitely broken ribs.

Before she could recover and check on Eighth's status, she heard a piercing noise. An alarm. It was far away, though, coming from the opposite side of the building. That meant that they weren't the ones who'd triggered it.

Lum?

@Longshot97

Edited by Lunamor
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Fenna Koss, Smokestack, Fenna’s Apartment

Fenna awoke to a disturbance outside. Tiredness and discomfort flooded over her immediately. She reached for the small vial by her bedside and downed it, then burned pewter, numbing all pain.

The noise that had awakened her was the sound of shouting and screaming. Something was happening.

She sat up, and for the first time noticed the faint red glow that filled her apartment. Striding to the window, she threw back the curtain and looked out.

The moon was red. Blood red.

Fenna stared up in alarm and amazement. Rust and Ruin. what is that?

New as she was to this world, this could have been a normal occurrence for all she knew. The sight of panicked people standing in the street outside, however, told her otherwise.

Whatever was happening, Fenna had to be ready. She didn’t know what to expect, so she prepared for the worst. She hurriedly got dressed, then went to the cabinet where she kept her metal vials.

She was getting low. The cabinet contained enough pewter to keep her alive for a few more days on a low burn, but if she was forced to use more than usual tonight…

Fenna downed one vial, fully replenishing her reserves. She secured the remaining vials one by one to her belt. They attached tightly, only removable if she pushed the release latch. She left one vial in the cabinet, in case something happened and she lost the ones she was carrying.

The ironminds clasped to her ankles were empty. Fenna had moved all the weight she had stored yesterday—she needed to leave room so she could make herself lighter.

A long iron bar on top of a drawer held her excess weight. Fenna tapped a moderate amount, storing it in her anklets in case she needed it.

Finally, Fenna hung her weapon—a short, hefty wooden stick—from her belt, and left the room, heading down to the street below.

Edited by Speeding Steelrunner
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Arranis, Smokestack Constalbury, Earlier

Arranis stands outside the consalbury, on the opposite side of the street, leaning casually against a lamp pole, watching. He sees two figures soar of the gap between buildings, and hears sounds echoing from the constalbury. Told you I would find them he says smugly to his spren. Hmpph she turns away from him, turning back to the events that were happening. "Should we go help the contables?" She says, her gaze seemingly piercing the building. "No, I have a feeling they are coming to come out soon" he says, "She is a resourceful person, by all accounts" he murmurs, "and her new friend is testament to that"

 

Arranis, Smokestack Constalbury, Now

Arranis watches as the moon starts shifting colours, turning a garish blood red. "Well that is not something you see everyday" he says cursing, and jumping up from his spot on the pavement, where he had been meditating. What is that Astra's voice pierces his mind, feeling his worry. 'I don't know" he curses, running towards the building, the gemstones in his pocket clacking as they wack against his leg. "we need to find those people now"

@Stormlightsong @Lunamor @Longshot97

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37 minutes ago, Scars of Hathsin said:

Arranis, Smokestack Constalbury, Earlier

Arranis stands outside the consalbury, on the opposite side of the street, leaning casually against a lamp pole, watching. He sees two figures soar of the gap between buildings, and hears sounds echoing from the constalbury. Told you I would find them he says smugly to his spren. Hmpph she turns away from him, turning back to the events that were happening. "Should we go help the contables?" She says, her gaze seemingly piercing the building. "No, I have a feeling they are coming to come out soon" he says, "She is a resourceful person, by all accounts" he murmurs, "and her new friend is testament to that"

 

Arranis, Smokestack Constalbury, Now

Arranis watches as the moon starts shifting colours, turning a garish blood red. "Well that is not something you see everyday" he says cursing, and jumping up from his spot on the pavement, where he had been meditating. What is that Astra's voice pierces his mind, feeling his worry. 'I don't know" he curses, running towards the building, the gemstones in his pocket clacking as they wack against his leg. "we need to find those people now"

@Stormlightsong @Lunamor @Longshot97

Asylum knelt beside the last guard that had come when the alarm sounded. They tallied up their new thralls on the young man’s chest. 5 mindless zombies and two vampires who were already feeding to gain their strength.

Having done their calculations, Asylum split the man’s chest open the allow a large pool of blood to form on the ground. The veins on their face turned black as they said the incantation. Slowly the blood split into three sections each painting a different scene. A newly promoted police man sleeping in bed, a healer who tried to strike a deal with a crime lord, and a knight already walking into the dragon’s lair. Asylum smiled and held out an arm for two ravens to perch on. “bring me the healer and the copper.” Asylum released the birds before beckoning one of their vampires over.

The body seemed to have belonged to a young woman before she was turned. She probably suffered much hardship rising through the ranks, but that didn’t matter anymore, Asylum didn’t discriminate. “Bring me our newest guest.” Asylum said standing up from the bloodied floor. “Alive preferably, but I wouldn’t mind if you had a little taste.” The vampire smiled, showing large, bloodied fangs before setting off for its target. 

Messengers sent, Asylum strolled down the hall to see how the other prisoners were doing.

@Lunamor @TheFrugalWizard @RoyalBeeMage @Longshot97

Edited by Stormlightsong
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21 hours ago, Lunamor said:

Seiju suddenly chirped urgently, hopping over to Eza. She shied back, uncomfortable with the proximity to the bird, and swatted at it. It pointedly looked over towards where Eighth had gone, ignoring her hand.

Ah, rust.

Eza drew her knives and ran out of the office door into the hallway her accomplice had headed down. Despite knowing that it was almost certainly useless by this point, she still made an effort to keep her steps silent. She could barely see what looked to be shadows dancing on the side of the wall where it turned a corner. Quickly burning iron, despite the relatively long distance from the metal adorning the combatants, it was easy to distinguish which was Eighth's pouch. The line was distinctly unique, unlike any she'd ever seen.

Eighth was far heavier than Eza was. Most people were, really. Her size was better suited for moving herself rather than moving others. In most situations, that was what she preferred. Flying was better than yanking a person around- unless said person happened to be in trouble because you'd blackmailed him into infiltrating a prison. She couldn't try to pull him anywhere without instead sending herself rocketing towards him. It was simply the laws of physics. There were ways to get around them, however. Stone weighed significantly more than she did, and many buildings conveniently happened to have walls made of it. The blue lines overlaid across her vision told her that Eighth was probably close by. "Probably" wasn't good enough, however. She'd send him crashing into a wall if she did this incorrectly. She needed a visual.

Eza crept forwards, nearly reaching the end of the hall, and peeked her head around the corner. She was both relieved and terrified by what she saw. Eighth was there, in a good position for her to move. There weren't many obstacles between them that he could crash into. He'd either made it almost all the way through the cells or managed to get spotted immediately; the time she'd had to spend waiting told her that it was probably the former. He also was fighting a guard, with several more running in from an adjoining section of the building. She moved backwards again before any of them could notice her. Fortunately, Eighth was providing quite the distraction.

She pressed her back again the wall so that she was facing directly away from the melee, as close to the edge of the corner as she could be while still staying completely behind it. Facing forwards was a terrible idea unless she felt like radically readjusting her nose. Based on the angle of the line she was focusing on, her plan would probably work so long as she extinguished her iron soon enough. Eza took a deep breath, steadied herself, then flared her iron and pulled as hard as she could. Anything less would move Eighth slowly enough that she'd only throw him off balance. Immediately, it felt as if something was trying to pull her inside of the stone itself. She was slammed backwards into the wall despite having already been pressed against it. The natural arch in her back had provided just enough empty space to allow movement. The force was strong enough that it was impossible for her to breath; the blue line connecting to herself was just below her chest, so the pressure was most concentrated there.

She saw the blue line getting closer, the metallic pouch yanking her friend rapidly away from the fight at a pace far faster than could be achieved on foot. She waited for a moment more, then extinguished her burning once the size was large enough to indicate that Eighth was getting close to slamming into the wall she hid behind. He'd have to deal with some momentum, but nothing that should mess with him too much. She wheezed, dropping down a few inches and bending over. She wasn't sure if she'd broken any ribs or not. Had that gone on any longer than a few seconds, she would've definitely broken ribs.

Before she could recover and check on Eighth's status, she heard a piercing noise. An alarm. It was far away, though, coming from the opposite side of the building. That meant that they weren't the ones who'd triggered it.

Lum?

@Longshot97

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No worries at all. Yeah, I left Seiju's reaction open-ended intentionally, for creativity's sake. What you've written seems realistic.

I really should have mentioned that Eighth was using his unsealed ironmind (what he calls his weightloss) to cut his weight in half Feruchemically. Since he'd dumped his tracker's coat (with all his gear) he would have been very lightweight - about seventy-five pounds, not counting additional weight.

Eighth of the Eve raised his arms with the next blow, hands spread wide. The cudgel struck the stretched length of wool between his wrists, and he moved swiftly, trapping the weapon in a flurry of fabric. Along the way, he tapped one wrist against the guard's hand.

Eighth ripped his hands apart, sending the club spinning off to one side. He slapped his wrist against the left-hand wall, and a glowing cord leashed the guard's arm to the wall. Eighth spooled another lightline over the coat, then flung it in the sentry's face. It immediately adhered to the skin, and the man went down, clawing blindly at his eyes.

Footsteps sounded behind, and he whirled to see three guards closing in on him. He swore, slapping his blowpipes to his arm and taking aim. Only, unstrapped as it was, the trigger was just out of reach. He fumbled desperately for it, then looked up to see one guard suddenly in the air right in front of him, emerging from a blur behind him. Eighth dropped, rolling to the side as the man's cudgel crunched into the ground. The man turned on him, and suddenly the approaching guards froze. The air rippled slightly around them.

Father!

Eighth ducked another swing, then lunged, swinging his blowpipes like a club. The man evaded easily, smiling. Then he cursed, dropping as a blunt-headed projectile passed directly where his head had been. Eighth's heart sank. He had hoped to catch him by surprise. He was clearly the better fighter.

The man sprang at him, and Eighth stumbled back, air whistling as the club flew just before his nose. The backhand came, and Eighth knew he could not avoid this. He was defeated.

Then a sudden force pulled him by the torso, ripping him out of the bubble of rippling air. He felt a sudden jolt, like hitting water at the wrong angle, only three times as bad. He reeled as he flew through the air, the quicksilver pouch pressing painfully at his midsection. He was soaring towards the far wall. No, towards the office.

Eza. Thank Patji.

The pull stopped, suddenly. Eighth tried to slow his flight, but, disoriented from the jolt, he just missed anchoring his lightline. He struck the wall with a crack, then dropped to the floor. The world spun about him, and the pain of his head returned with vengeance. A roar filled his ears, and he smelled blood.

Eighth lurched to his feet, staggering around the corner. He found Eza hunched over, wheezing as though she'd run a mile. What happened to her? He grabbed her by the arm, towing her towards the office doorway. Then slowed, confused.

His hearing was beginning to clear. A loud sound, blaring throughout the building. He had heard its like, once before, high in the air on a ship of metal. An alarm.

Ahead, he heard Seiju cry. It was like nothing he had heard from her. Raw. Frantic. Frightened. She shot out of the doorway, then swerved to Eighth, landing on his shoulder. He suddenly saw the best route out of the building, knew it like he knew the lay of Lokui. His feet quivered, ready to run at a moment's notice, even while the world still rocked about him. No, she was not frightened.

She was terrified.

Ahead, footsteps sounded. Multiple people, striding towards the door. Slowly. Deliberately. A raven's call reached him, and he thought he heard the rattle of rooftiles as someone climbed out their escape. Outside, screams seemed to be echoing.

Distant Father. What is happening?

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Sorry for the minor godmod of hauling Eza up by the arm. He would have been fleeing the approaching constables (three of them. And yeah, one's a Slider).

The "rattle of rooftiles" could be incorrect, and thus he might have imagined it. I'm just assuming Asylum's vampire used it to get out as quick as possible, but it could just as easily have been in Eighth's head.

What did Asylum see via his Hemomancy? Arranis might be the policeman, and the knight might be Eleos, but who is the healer? Or are they people we haven't seen?

EDIT: I am now guessing that Frisian is the policeman, Eleos is the healer, and Arranis is the knight. Further, I'm assuming the vampire is seeking Arranis. 

@Lunamor @Stormlightsong

Edited by Longshot97
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14 minutes ago, Longshot97 said:

Sorry for the minor godmod of hauling Eza up by the arm. He would have been fleeing the approaching constables (and yeah, one's a Slider).

What did Asylum see via his Hemomancy? Arranis might have been the policeman, and the knight might be Eleos. but who is the healer? Or are they people we haven't seen?

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The policeman is Friston@TheFrugalWizard’s character,

the healer is Eleos

and the knight is Arranis

 

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1 hour ago, Longshot97 said:

Eighth of the Eve raised his arms with the next blow, hands spread wide. The cudgel struck the stretched length of wool between his wrists, and he moved swiftly, trapping the weapon in a flurry of fabric. Along the way, he tapped one wrist against the guard's hand.

Eighth ripped his hands apart, sending the club spinning off to one side. He slapped his wrist against the left-hand wall, and a glowing cord leashed the guard's arm to the wall. Eighth spooled another lightline over the coat, then flung it in the sentry's face. It immediately adhered to the skin, and the man went down, clawing blindly at his eyes.

Footsteps sounded behind, and he whirled to see three guards closing in on him. He swore, slapping his blowpipes to his arm and taking aim. Only, unstrapped as it was, the trigger was just out of reach. He fumbled desperately for it, then looked up to see one guard suddenly in the air right in front of him, emerging from a blur behind him. Eighth dropped, rolling to the side as the man's cudgel crunched into the ground. The man turned on him, and suddenly the approaching guards froze. The air rippled slightly around them.

Father!

Eighth ducked another swing, then lunged, swinging his blowpipes like a club. The man evaded easily, smiling. Then he cursed, dropping as a blunt-headed projectile passed directly where his head had been. Eighth's heart sank. He had hoped to catch him by surprise. He was clearly the better fighter.

The man sprang at him, and Eighth stumbled back, air whistling as the club flew just before his nose. The backhand came, and Eighth knew he could not avoid this. He was defeated.

Then a sudden force pulled him by the torso, ripping him out of the bubble of rippling air. He felt a sudden jolt, like hitting water at the wrong angle, only three times as bad. He reeled as he flew through the air, the quicksilver pouch pressing painfully at his midsection. He was soaring towards the far wall. No, towards the office.

Eza. Thank Patji.

The pull stopped, suddenly. Eighth tried to slow his flight, but, disoriented from the jolt, he just missed anchoring his lightline. He struck the wall with a crack, then dropped to the floor. The world spun about him, and the pain of his head returned with vengeance. A roar filled his ears, and he smelled blood.

Eighth lurched to his feet, staggering around the corner. He found Eza hunched over, wheezing as though she'd run a mile. What happened to her? He grabbed her by the arm, towing her towards the office doorway. Then slowed, confused.

His hearing was beginning to clear. A loud sound, blaring throughout the building. He had heard its like, once before, high in the air on a ship of metal. An alarm.

Ahead, he heard Seiju cry. It was like nothing he had heard from her. Raw. Frantic. Frightened. She shot out of the doorway, then swerved to Eighth, landing on his shoulder. He suddenly saw the best route out of the building, knew it like he knew the lay of Lokui. His feet quivered, ready to run at a moment's notice, even while the world still rocked about him. No, she was not frightened.

She was terrified.

Ahead, footsteps sounded. Multiple people, striding towards the door. Slowly. Deliberately. A raven's call reached him, and he thought he heard the rattle of rooftiles as someone climbed out their escape. Outside, screams seemed to be echoing.

Distant Father. What is happening?

@Lunamor @Stormlightsong

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No worries about the slight godmod, I did just yeet your character down a hallway :P

Still trying to catch her breath, Eza winced when she saw Eighth crash into the wall. Maybe she'd overdone it a bit. Hopefully he hadn't hit his head too hard. He was at least fine enough to have the sense to move them towards the office again. If they kept moving, barricaded the door behind them, they might be able to stay ahead of the guards. They needed to go find out what was causing the alarm, see if they could help Lum. They were probably trying to escape; they weren't the type to care about setting off alarms in the process.

But then the screaming of the alarm was joined by actual screams. Both inside and outside, it seemed. Some of them, closer ones, shook her to her core. You didn't sound like that if you were just scared. She'd heard a scream just like them before. Something very, very bad was happening. She heard a raven's call and remembered what Lum had told her a few very long days ago.

If you see a corvid, run.

Lum was causing the screams. And with the chaos giving them the opportunity to get out of prison like this... that meant Lum wasn't unlucky right now. And she could hear so many people suffering...

"What's happening?"

Her voice came out as a whisper, although with the pressure she'd just exerted against herself she couldn't have spoken any louder if she wanted to. She took another step towards the office, not wanting to allow themselves to be caught regardless of what was going on nearby. Then she saw a pair of people walk towards the door. They looked wrong, somehow. Squinting, she realized that they were covered in blood.

Her eyes widened, then darted around, searching for similar threats. They fell upon bloodied footprints that ended right underneath the hole they'd cut in the roof. That meant it wasn't safe to go there anymore. A regular constable would've just used a door. She froze for a moment, breathing oddly steady.

Eza had two options. Fleeing was the first. With the chaos around them, it should be possible. Her and Eighth would be downgraded in priority compared to the threats that were almost certainly growing. Eighth seemed to know what he was doing, he could figure something out. He could just cut another hole in the ceiling, maybe even the wall.

The second option was to find Lum. There was no chance she'd continue to drag Eighth with her if she did that. He'd already repaid his "debt" tenfold. By this point, it would risk getting him killed rather than arrested. Did she want to put herself at that same risk? Was she willing to die for Lum?

No. No, she wasn't. They weren't her.

Eza looked back to Eighth, her voice having now gone from whispering to hoarse.

"Can you find us another way out of here?"

@Stormlightsong

Edited by Lunamor
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Asylum walked through the constabulary with purpose. They’d already set up a perimeter of thralls to guard the exits, but they didn’t have enough minions to stop anyone serious. 

As they came to the hall where most of the prisoners were held, Asylum saw the remains of a fight. There were three guards positioned at the end of the hall, they looked around to check for potential threats. Then they found one.

”Hi,” Asylum said as one of the guards dashed toward them at unnatural speed. A slider. That will be useful. They thought as they slipped a knife directly in between the guard’s ribs. “My condolences.” Asylum said as the two thralls behind them shot the remaining guards directly in between both their eyes. 

As Asylum started turning the slider, a prisoner finally broke the silence. “So are you going to release us?”

Asylum turned their head towards the prisoner. He was a strong fellow, he seemed to be a hit man for a mob of some sort, but that hardly mattered. 

“Of course,” Asylum said, raising a withered hand from the new vampire. They walked over and unlocked the door. Before the man could react, Asylum’s new pet was upon him. Within it’s speed bubble it fed, draining the prisoner. It was crude and wasteful, but it seemed effective. “So,” Asylum said with a grin. “Who’s next?”

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Note: Asylum’s thralls are far from intelligent and any superstitions about vampires or zombies would apply to them respectively.

@Lunamor @Longshot97 @Scars of Hathsin

Edited by Stormlightsong
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Fenna, Smokestack

The sounds of panic and confusion grew louder, but Fenna couldn't see where they were coming from. She ran towards the nearest building, then stored as much weight as she could, flared pewter, and leapt. She sailed gracefully to the top of the building and dropped onto the roof, allowing some of her weight to return. She still couldn't see much from her new vantage point--it was after all the middle of the night--but she could more accurately pinpoint the direction the sounds were coming from.

Fenna sped along the rooftops in that direction, storing extra weight for each jump. She moved quickly, he pewter-enhanced legs moving her lightened body with incredible ease. In a few minutes, she came to a halt. Across the street was the Smokestack Constabulary. Rusts.

Generally, Fenna tried to stay away from law enforcement. She hadn't done anything illegal yet--at least nothing the Smokestack Constabulary knew about--it was just a habit she'd picked up. But it seemed like whatever was happening was happening here.

Just then, a pair of shrieking ravens appeared, flapping out of the constabulary building and disappearing into the night. Ravens? That was decidedly odd. Fenna stored weight and jumped towards the constabulary. As she flew overhead, she caught a glimpse of something standing guard at the main entrance. Do constabularies usually have guards on the outside? Fenna wondered. What kind of rusting idiot tries to break into a building full of constables? Well, apparently, she did. Flaring pewter, she landed on the roof.

For another moment, Fenna contemplated turning back. But something was clearly going on here, and probably not anything good by the looks of it. There could be people inside who needed help. Pewter, another part of her said. There could also be pewter inside. A lot of constables are probably Thugs, no? She shoved that thought away. That wasn't the point of this expedition...but if there was any, that would be a bonus.

Fenna stored as much weight as she could and leapt straight into the air, then, at the apex of her jump, she tapped weight, becoming any times heavier than normal. She plunged towards the roof. She flared pewter at the last moment. Then she hit the roof, smashing through and falling into the building.

@Lunamor@Longshot97@Scars of Hathsin@Stormlightsong

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Wherever you want Fenna to end up inside the building works for me.

 

Edited by Speeding Steelrunner
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On 7/7/2024 at 7:02 PM, Lunamor said:

Still trying to catch her breath, Eza winced when she saw Eighth crash into the wall. Maybe she'd overdone it a bit. Hopefully he hadn't hit his head too hard. He was at least fine enough to have the sense to move them towards the office again. If they kept moving, barricaded the door behind them, they might be able to stay ahead of the guards. They needed to go find out what was causing the alarm, see if they could help Lum. They were probably trying to escape; they weren't the type to care about setting off alarms in the process.

But then the screaming of the alarm was joined by actual screams. Both inside and outside, it seemed. Some of them, closer ones, shook her to her core. You didn't sound like that if you were just scared. She'd heard a scream just like them before. Something very, very bad was happening. She heard a raven's call and remembered what Lum had told her a few very long days ago.

If you see a corvid, run.

Lum was causing the screams. And with the chaos giving them the opportunity to get out of prison like this... that meant Lum wasn't unlucky right now. And she could hear so many people suffering...

"What's happening?"

Her voice came out as a whisper, although with the pressure she'd just exerted against herself she couldn't have spoken any louder if she wanted to. She took another step towards the office, not wanting to allow themselves to be caught regardless of what was going on nearby. Then she saw a pair of people walk towards the door. They looked wrong, somehow. Squinting, she realized that they were covered in blood.

Her eyes widened, then darted around, searching for similar threats. They fell upon bloodied footprints that ended right underneath the hole they'd cut in the roof. That meant it wasn't safe to go there anymore. A regular constable would've just used a door. She froze for a moment, breathing oddly steady.

Eza had two options. Fleeing was the first. With the chaos around them, it should be possible. Her and Eighth would be downgraded in priority compared to the threats that were almost certainly growing. Eighth seemed to know what he was doing, he could figure something out. He could just cut another hole in the ceiling, maybe even the wall.

The second option was to find Lum. There was no chance she'd continue to drag Eighth with her if she did that. He'd already repaid his "debt" tenfold. By this point, it would risk getting him killed rather than arrested. Did she want to put herself at that same risk? Was she willing to die for Lum?

No. No, she wasn't. They weren't her.

Eza looked back to Eighth, her voice having now gone from whispering to hoarse.

"Can you find us another way out of here?"

@Stormlightsong

Eighth of the Eve could have laughed. Could he find a way out? It was all he could not to start running like the wind. Seiju had set her talent flaring like a bonfire. He could have scaled mountains without breaking a sweat, crossed a frothing river as though it were a placid stream. Still, he remained where he was, focusing on the bloody tracks leading to their escape. He knew he wasn't steady enough to go anywhere right then, not without serious injury.

Well, not only that.

Eighth looked down at the girl behind him. He had moved between her and the door, crouching protectively. When? Why? He knew her by now. Tiny, yes. But fierce, determined, clever.

She looked at him, and he saw Fourth of the Fall in her face. In his mind's eye, she held his gaze only a moment before looking away. Fury had blazed in her eyes, emotion that she refused to let him see. That was the last time she had ever met his gaze.

In this girl's eyes, all he saw was trust. Trust, wholehearted and earnest. Like a younger Fall, holding desperately to a tree ten times her size. Looking dwon at him, arms outstretched from the earth below, he had seen terror fade to trust. Like El, clinging to roots and weeds as quicksand swallowed her up to the waist. Seeing him, that pain and panic had shifted to simple calm. How long had it been since anyone looked at him that way?

Eighth finished strapping his blowpipes to his arms. He absently fired a dart through the open doors at his bundled coat, a lightline trailing behind it. It struck, and he abruptly pulled on the line, catching it and swinging it on. He returned his machete to his hip, and reslung his waterskin to his belt. He popped the cork, sending the quicksilver pooling about his feet.

"Yes," Eighth said quietly, "but what about your friend?" He looked back at her, and suddenly knew. The alarm was no accident.

"Very well," he said. "But I promise you this: we will find him. Eventually."

He stepped forward swiftly, closed the office door, then stretched a lightline across the frame. Then two. Then three. That might mislead any pursuers.

That done, he rushed down the hallway, as silently as he knew how. The guards should just be approaching the office door. With the other sentries out, they could escape through the entrance into the cellblock. The quicksilver flowed along the floor, following their brisk pace. The door came into view.

Someone approached the doorway.

Eighth slowed, pulling Eza to the closer wall, hidden to the entryway. The figure strode confidently closer, still just out of the light. Behind it, two men followed. Eighth stiffened, and Seiju huddled down on his shoulder. The men didn't walk so much as shamble, as though any strength of theirs was long spent.

On 7/7/2024 at 8:37 PM, Stormlightsong said:

Asylum walked through the constabulary with purpose. They’d already set up a perimeter of thralls to guard the exits, but they didn’t have enough minions to stop anyone serious. 

As they came to the hall where most of the prisoners were held, Asylum saw the remains of a fight. There were three guards positioned at the end of the hall, they looked around to check for potential threats. Then they found one.

”Hi,” Asylum said as one of the guards dashed toward them at unnatural speed. A slider. That will be useful. They thought as they slipped a knife directly in between the guard’s ribs. “My condolences.” Asylum said as the two thralls behind them shot the remaining guards directly in between both their eyes. 

As Asylum started turning the slider, a prisoner finally broke the silence. “So are you going to release us?”

Asylum turned their head towards the prisoner. He was a strong fellow, he seemed to be a hit man for a mob of some sort, but that hardly mattered. 

“Of course,” Asylum said, raising a withered hand from the new vampire. They walked over and unlocked the door. Before the man could react, Asylum’s new pet was upon him. Within it’s speed bubble it fed, draining the prisoner. It was crude and wasteful, but it seemed effective. “So,” Asylum said with a grin. “Who’s next?”

@Lunamor @Longshot97 @Scars of Hathsin

The man entered the room, and Eighth froze. Horror swelled within, and he felt sick to his core.

The man's eyes were black, black as midnight. Greasy hair framed a gaunt face, the skin pulled tight across the cheekbones. The hands were withered and skeletal, the yellowed fingernails crusted with blood. More blood covered a sleek modern suit, which draped a painfully emaciated frame.

It was the figure of his darkest nightmares, sending him screaming from his bedroll, soaked in sweat, body ready for flight. It was the skinwalker of his people's stories incarnate, ready to devour the souls of all who dared cross it. It was everything Eighth feared in the modern man, manifest before them.

"Hi," it said, simply.

Quote

I'm, uh, taking a few liberties with description here. I'm perfectly fine with toning down the effects that Asylum's new Talent his having on him, since it hasn't been that long since he got his new powers.

A blur of motion caught Eighth's eye, and the guard from before lunged at the monstrosity, moving with ungodly speed. Then he stopped, the air flickering weakly about him, a knife between his ribs. The guard collapsed to the floor, and the man knelt down beside him, pulling the knife from his chest.

Then it...

It...

Oh, Distant Father.

The man desecrated the corpse, defacing it, sparing no expanse of skin from that brutal knife. They carved the body like a cut of meat, inscribing runes of alien origin. Eighth watched in horrified fascination as the man laid a hand over the mutilated guard, bowing his head. The whispered words should not have reached Eighth, but he swore he could hear them, swore he could almost understand them.

The corpse twitched.

Eighth could not tear his eyes away. The body stood, those awful wounds slowly sealing themselves, leaving only faint scars across it. The skin was gaunt, pale and bone-white. Bloodless.

One of the prisoners said something. Eighth could not make out the words. The suited man walked over to a cage and - with a mere touch - unlocked the barred door. In the blink of an eye, the dead guard was in the cell, kneeling over the slumped corpse of the prisoner. The poor man's throat was torn out, and the guard had it's mouth over the wound. Eighth saw the creature's throat work, saw the man's thrashing slow, then stop.

Patji protect us all.

Eighth backed around the corner, terrified of being seen by this...this thing. His eyes, however would not move from the tableau before him.

The Bloodless rose, heedless of the gore spattering its face. The suited man watched impassively, perfectly composed. Then their face split in an unnatural grin, yellowed teeth pointed and predatory. Those midnight eyes glittered with satisfaction, and Eighth swore he saw the fingernails of their folded hands stretching, elongating into curled claws.

With a start, Eighth suddenly made out odd sparks of color at the man's sleevecuffs. A green clover, with four leaves. A strip of green silk stood out at the man's throat.

And suddenly, everything clicked into place.

"So," Asylum Smedry said, "Who's next?"

Eighth of the Eve whirled on Eza. His machete was in his hand. When did that happen? The quicksilver pooled around his feet, writhing like boiling water. His mouth felt dry, his eyes wide. He was shaking. Patji, he was trembling.

"You did not tell me your friend," Eighth whispered savagely, "Was a demon." Anger and fury pooled with fear and terror. "I promised to help you find your friend. I have." Seiju trembled at his shoulder. Again, he suddenly knew the way to escape, and his legs wanted nothing more than to sprint out the door, heedless of the monstrosities that awaited him. "What will keep him from killing us both?"

Behind him, the screaming resumed.

Quote

Uh, yeah. If it wasn't obvious, Eighth is terrified of Asylum. Poor guy has never seen anything like this. And he stalked one of the Islands of the Pantheon.

Asylum could very well know that Eighth his hiding. He's not being very sneaky. Could be the panic.

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@Speeding Steelrunner

On 7/8/2024 at 5:26 AM, Speeding Steelrunner said:

Fenna stored as much weight as she could and leapt straight into the air, then, at the apex of her jump, she tapped weight, becoming any times heavier than normal. She plunged towards the roof. She flared pewter at the last moment. Then she hit the roof, smashing through and falling into the building.

At the risk of sounding pedantic, you might want to review the Coppermind for information on F-Iron and conservation of momentum. The Tl;dr is that anytime a Skimmer in motion stores weight, they speed up, and everytime they tap weight, they slow down. To give an example, a Skimmer who is skydiving can increase their weight to slow down, maybe to manuever. They could also decrease their weight to speed up, maybe to outrace an opponent.

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Wherever you want Fenna to end up inside the building works for me.

Hmm. Fenna saw the ravens leaving the building, but didn't see the hole Eighth punched through the roof. This means she probably approached the building from the opposite side Eza and Eighth did. That is roughly where Asylum was actually being kept, and the direction from which he approached the cellblock. So, I propose that's where Fenna crashes down.

@Stormlightsong @Lunamor 

Edited by Longshot97
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@Longshot97

She wasn’t in motion when she tapped weight, though, so that shouldn’t have an effect in this particular situation. Heavy objects fall at the same speed as light ones, so by becoming heavy at the height of her jump, she builds up more force.

18 minutes ago, Longshot97 said:

Hmm. Fenna saw the ravens leaving the building, but didn't see the hole Eighth punched through the roof. This means she probably approached the building from the opposite side Eza and Eighth did. That is roughly where Asylum was actually being kept, and the direction from which he approached the cellblock. So, I propose that's where Fenna crashes down.

So, this would put her on the opposite side of Asylum’s position than Eighth and Eza? That works for me. I’ll wait to finalize that in case anyone else has suggestions, and since I went second-most recently.

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8 hours ago, Longshot97 said:

Eighth of the Eve could have laughed. Could he find a way out? It was all he could not to start running like the wind. Seiju had set her talent flaring like a bonfire. He could have scaled mountains without breaking a sweat, crossed a frothing river as though it were a placid stream. Still, he remained where he was, focusing on the bloody tracks leading to their escape. He knew he wasn't steady enough to go anywhere right then, not without serious injury.

Well, not only that.

Eighth looked down at the girl behind him. He had moved between her and the door, crouching protectively. When? Why? He knew her by now. Tiny, yes. But fierce, determined, clever.

She looked at him, and he saw Fourth of the Fall in her face. In his mind's eye, she held his gaze only a moment before looking away. Fury had blazed in her eyes, emotion that she refused to let him see. That was the last time she had ever met his gaze.

In this girl's eyes, all he saw was trust. Trust, wholehearted and earnest. Like Fall, holding desperately to a tree ten times her size. Looking at him, arms outstretched from the earth below, he had seen terror fade to trust. Like El, clinging to roots and weeds as quicksand swallowed her up to the waist. Seeing him, that pain and panic had shifted to simple calm. How long had it been since anyone looked at him that way?

Eighth finished strapping his blowpipes to his arms. He absently fired a dart through the open doors at his bundled coat, a lightline trailing behind it. It struck, and he pulled it towards him, catching it and swinging it on. He returned his machete to his hip, and reslung his waterskin to his belt. He popped the cork, sending the quicksilver pooling about his feet.

"Yes," Eighth said quietly, "but what about your friend?" He looked back at her, and suddenly knew. The alarm was no accident.

"Very well," he said. "But I promise you this: we will find him. Eventually."

He stepped forward swiftly, closed the office door, then stretched a lightline across the frame. Then two. Then three. That might mislead any pursuers.

That done, he rushed down the hallway, as silently as he knew how. The guards should just be approaching the office door. With the other sentries out, they could escape through the entrance into the cellblock. The quicksilver flowed along the floor, following their brisk pace. The door came into view.

Someone approached the doorway.

Eighth slowed, pulling Eza to the closer wall, hidden to the entryway. The figure strode confidently closer, still just out of the light. Behind it, two men followed. Eighth stiffened, and Seiju huddled down on his shoulder. The men didn't walk so much as shamble, as though any strength of theirs was long spent.

The man entered the room, and Eighth froze. Horror swelled within, and he felt sick to his core.

The man's eyes were black, black as midnight. Greasy hair framed a gaunt face, the skin pulled tight across the cheekbones. The hands were withered and skeletal, the yellowed fingernails crusted with blood. More blood covered a sleek modern suit, which draped a painfully emaciated frame.

It was the figure of his darkest nightmares, sending him screaming from his bedroll, soaked in sweat, body ready for flight. It was the skinwalker of his people's stories incarnate, ready to devour the souls of all who dared cross it. It was the 

"Hi," it said, simply.

A blur of motion caught Eighth's eye, and the guard from before lunged at the monstrosity, moving with ungodly speed. Then he stopped, the air flickering weakly about him, a knife between his ribs. The guard collapsed to the floor, and the man knelt down beside him, pulling the knife from his chest.

Then he...

He...

Oh, Distant Father.

The man desecrated the corpse, defacing it, sparing no expanse of skin from that brutal knife. He carved the body like a cut of meat, inscribing runes of alien origin. Eighth watched in horrified fascination as the man laid a hand over the mutilated guard, bowing his head. The whispered words should not have reached Eighth, but he swore he could hear them, swore he could almost understand them.

The corpse twitched.

Eighth could not tear his eyes away. The body stood, those awful wounds slowly sealing themselves, leaving only faint scars across it. The skin was gaunt, pale and bone-white. Bloodless.

One of the prisoners said something. Eighth could not make out the words. The suited man walked over to a cage and - with a mere touch - unlocked the barred door. In the blink of an eye, the dead guard was in the cell, kneeling over the slumped corpse of the prisoner. The poor man's throat was torn out, and the guard had it's mouth over the wound. Eighth saw the creature's throat work, saw the man's thrashing slow, then stop.

Patji protect us all.

Eighth backed around the corner, terrified of being seen by this...this thing. His eyes, however would not move from the tableau before him.

The Bloodless rose, heedless of the gore spattering its face. The suited man watched impassively, perfectly composed. Then his face split in an unnatural grin, yellowed teeth pointed and predatory. Those midnight eyes glittered with satisfaction, and Eighth swore he saw the fingernails of his folded hands stretching, elongating into curled claws.

With a start, Eighth suddenly made out odd sparks of color at the man's sleevecuffs. A green clover, with four leaves. A strip of green silk stood out at the man's throat.

And suddenly, everything clicked into place.

"So," Asylum Smedry said, "Who's next?"

Eighth of the Eve whirled on Eza. His machete was in his hand. When did that happen? The quicksilver pooled around his feet, writhing like boiling water. His mouth felt dry, his eyes wide. He was shaking. Patji, he was trembling.

"You did not tell me your friend," Eighth whispered savagely, "Was a demon." Anger and fury pooled with fear and terror. "I promised to help you find your friend. I have." Seiju trembled at his shoulder. Again, he suddenly knew the way to escape, and his legs wanted nothing more than to sprint out the door, heedless of the monstrosities that awaited him. "What will keep him from killing us both?"

Behind him, the screaming resumed.

@Stormlightsong @Lunamor 

Eza's face went as pale as the corpses drained of blood. Lum was a murderer. No, more than a murderer. So much more than a murderer. This was what the Strangers did. Killed people, mutilated them, used them to make unnatural creations. They sacrificed lives for something worth far less, traded death for scraps of power. They weren't even just killing the guards- they were killing the prisoners, too. There wasn't a reason for that. They posed no threat. They might've even tried to help Lum escape. This was cruelty for cruelty's sake. She focused on their face, trying to find some semblance of humanity, and the breath she'd managed to recover left her chest. Oh Harmony, they were smiling. They enjoyed this.

"I don't- I..."

She trailed off, struggling to speak through her shock. Her voice was back to a whisper, but not because of her near-suffocation this time. Her voice shook from waves of terror. Lum was a monster.

"That's not Lum. It can't be Lum. Maybe... maybe something bad did this to them... They wouldn't do this..."

Did she really know that? She'd known them for less than a week. You couldn't trust someone if you only knew them for a short time. Eza never should've trusted anyone. Yet she'd placed her faith in a monster. Stupid, stupid Eza. She should've known better. She'd been helping an evil person for the price of a few trinkets. Asylum worked for a rusting hemalurgist. Why had she ignored that? She'd let a few shiny things distract her from noticing something awful again. Would she have been able to stop this had she paid attention for once in her miserable rusting life? She took a step backwards.

"I'm so sorry."

Her voice cracked at those words. She wasn't sure who she was apologizing to. Her eyes had welled up with tears and she was visibly shaking. She couldn't stop this. She didn't know if she could survive it. Dragging Eighth into this might've killed him. He was right to be furious with her. She deserved every last ounce of rage. He looked terrified, too.

"That's not my friend. Not anymore."

Something within her finally sputtered to life and she managed to prevent herself from hyperventilating, keeping her breathing silent. Still trying to remain out of sight, she stepped in front of Eighth. The least she could do was try to keep Eighth alive as they fled. He was still living. She'd failed the prisoners, failed the guards, failed Mother, but he wasn't gone yet. She flipped her daggers so that the blades faced outwards. She had no qualms with killing the dead, and chances were she wouldn't even be able to scratch the monster who still lived anyways.

Her fingers tightened on her knives' handles and she burned iron. A mess of blue lines shot out from her chest, connecting to various sources of metal scattered about the building. She tried to ignore the familiar scream that echoed in her head every time she saw a walking corpse. She couldn't make it right, but she had a shot at ensuring at least someone made it out alive this time. She continued to speak quietly.

"Eighth, run."

She looked at the shambling horde in front of them again.

”Um, quietly.”

Quote

See posts 2-4 in the Eza's Origins thread if you're interested in additional context about why she's reacting like this.

@Stormlightsong

Edited by Lunamor
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On 7/8/2024 at 5:36 PM, Lunamor said:

Eza's face went as pale as the corpses drained of blood. Lum was a murderer. No, more than a murderer. So much more than a murderer. This was what the Strangers did. Killed people, mutilated them, used them to make unnatural creations. They sacrificed lives for something worth far less, traded death for scraps of power. They weren't even just killing the guards- they were killing the prisoners, too. There wasn't a reason for that. They posed no threat. They might've even tried to help Lum escape. This was cruelty for cruelty's sake. She focused on their face, trying to find some semblance of humanity, and the breath she'd managed to recover left her chest. Oh Harmony, they were smiling. They enjoyed this.

"I don't- I..."

She trailed off, struggling to speak through her shock. Her voice was back to a whisper, but not because of her near-suffocation this time. Her voice shook from waves of terror. Lum was a monster.

"That's not Lum. It can't be Lum. Maybe... maybe something bad did this to them... They wouldn't do this..."

Did she really know that? She'd known them for less than a week. You couldn't trust someone if you only knew them for a short time. Eza never should've trusted anyone. Yet she'd placed her faith in a monster. Stupid, stupid Eza. She should've known better. She'd been helping an evil person for the price of a few trinkets. Asylum worked for a rusting hemalurgist. Why had she ignored that? She'd let a few shiny things distract her from noticing something awful again. Would she have been able to stop this had she paid attention for once in her miserable rusting life? She took a step backwards.

"I'm so sorry."

Her voice cracked at those words. She wasn't sure who she was apologizing to. Her eyes had welled up with tears and she was visibly shaking. She couldn't stop this. She didn't know if she could survive it. Dragging Eighth into this might've killed him. He was right to be furious with her. She deserved every last ounce of rage. He looked terrified, too.

Oh, Father. Guilt stabbed him. Gone was the courageous, resourceful young woman that had outwitted men twice her age. Gone was the fierce loyal companion that had braved imprisonment to rescue her friend. Gone was the hardened warrior who had seen too much for her age. In her place, all Eighth saw was a small, fragile girl who had lost everything. Tears fell from her eyes, and her body shook with sobs that threatened to tear it apart. And her face...

That was the face of a broken soul. A person who tried so hard to be with those they loved, only have everything ripped away by a cruel world. Eighth recognized that face. He knew it well.

It greeted him in every passing reflection.

On 7/8/2024 at 5:36 PM, Lunamor said:

"That's not my friend. Not anymore."

Something within her finally sputtered to life and she managed to prevent herself from hyperventilating, keeping her breathing silent. Still trying to remain out of sight, she stepped in front of Eighth. The least she could do was try to keep Eighth alive as they fled. He was still living. She'd failed the prisoners, failed the guards, failed Mother, but he wasn't gone yet. She flipped her daggers so that the blades faced outwards. She had no qualms with killing the dead, and chances were she wouldn't even be able to scratch the monster who still lived anyways.

Her fingers tightened on her knives' handles and she burned iron. A mess of blue lines shot out from her chest, connecting to various sources of metal scattered about the building. She tried to ignore the familiar scream that echoed in her head every time she saw a walking corpse. She couldn't make it right, but she had a shot at ensuring at least someone made it out alive this time. She continued to speak quietly.

"Eighth, run."

She looked at the shambling horde in front of them again.

”Um, quietly.”

Eighth saw something harden in her eyes. Her shoulders settled, the tears eased from her face, and a deadly calm suffused her features. In that moment, he saw it. The numb, unfeeling resolve of someone with nothing left to lose. The horror was there, and the loss. But a silent fire burned therein, and Eighth was struck by the strength of this girl.

"That's not my friend. Not anymore," she said quietly.

She brushed past him, stepping between him and the skinwalker's horde. Blades appeared suddenly in her hands - thin, sharp daggers that glittered defiantly in the light. They both were yet unnoticed by that monster. But his heart swelled at her ready defense.

Fool. This is why you are here to begin with. Remember. Remember your exile.

Somehow, facing a being from the underworld, Eighth could not care.

"Eighth, run."

And run he did.

* * *

Eighth of the Eve darted towards the bend in the hallway. Just past it, the door yawned open. He needed only cover a distance of five meters.

Five meters of open floor, where anyone, man or monstrosity, could see him. Five meters of danger of the highest order. Five meters where it might see him.

Eighth felt the strength of his stride, marveled at how his pace left no sounds. Seiju, still at his shoulder, huddled down, gripping his shoulder tightly. Their bond had never been stronger. Right then, he could have crossed the densest grove of Lokui at a dead sprint, and quite possibly not have disturbed a single leaf.

Thank you, old friend.

Another second, and he would be out in the open. He clenched his fist, and the violet veins of his glove flared anew. The quicksilver followed, rippling down the floor behind him. Eighth focused on it, felt the world seemingly slow from his concentration. He reached out, praying that he would not fail this time. Praying he got the timing right. Praying no one looked his way. Praying nothing went wrong.

Please, Patji.

He was at the bend.

He thrust his hand forth, and the quicksilver flowed before him. In the same breath, Eighth leapt forward, stretched his arms out and locking his knees.

The quicksilver flowed beneath him right as his feet landed. The silvery metal was slick - slick as ice. His feet landed, and he shot forward like a stone from a sling. The speed of his jump diminished not at all, and he sped across the intervening space almost too fast for him to react. Praise Patji, Seiju was still with him. He jumped again, then swept his hand to the side, the quicksilver racing past him. He landed hands-first, tucking himself into a roll as Seiju soundlessly took to the air. He came to his feet, muscles tensed from the speed. It took his body a moment to believe the motion had stopped, then he sagged against a wall.

He shook his head, turning to the doorway. He was out of the skinwalker's sightline. Good. He guided the quicksilver back into his waterskin, moving swiftly. If they were lucky, he had gone past unnoticed. If not...

Time to run.

Eighth released his weightloss, felt himself settle more heavily on his feet. He held the waterskin aloft, gesturing hurriedly towards it. Come on, he thought. Pull on it. Get over here.

Escape.

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I was doing some research, and I found out that mercury is really heavy. Apparently, just two tablespoons of the stuff weighs a pound. So, it would make a really interesting anchor for Allomancy, motivator influence nonwithstanding.

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@Speeding Steelrunner

On 7/8/2024 at 2:22 PM, Speeding Steelrunner said:

She wasn’t in motion when she tapped weight, though, so that shouldn’t have an effect in this particular situation. Heavy objects fall at the same speed as light ones, so by becoming heavy at the height of her jump, she builds up more force.

That makes absolute sense. You have thought this through way more than I have. Sorry about that, and I look forward to seeing this powerset in action.

On 7/8/2024 at 5:38 PM, Scars of Hathsin said:

With your earlier post @Stormlightsong are you referring to the vampire bringing me in?

@Scars of Hathsin

On 7/7/2024 at 6:20 PM, Stormlightsong said:

The policeman is [Frisian] @TheFrugalWizard’s character,

the healer is Eleos

and the knight is Arranis

According to this, yes.

@Lunamor @Stormlightsong

Edited by Longshot97
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5 hours ago, Longshot97 said:

Oh, Father. Guilt stabbed him. Gone was the courageous, resourceful young woman that had outwitted men twice her age. Gone was the fierce loyal companion that had braved imprisonment to rescue her friend. Gone was the hardened warrior who had seen too much for her age. In her place, all Eighth saw was a small, fragile girl who had lost everything. Tears fell from her eyes, and her body shook with sobs that threatened to tear it apart. And her face...

That was the face of a broken soul. A person who tried so hard to be with those they loved, only have everything ripped away by a cruel world. Eighth recognized that face. He knew it well.

It greeted him in every passing reflection.

Eighth saw something harden in her eyes. Her shoulders settled, the tears eased from her face, and a deadly calm suffused her features. In that moment, he saw it. The numb, unfeeling resolve of someone with nothing left to lose. The horror was there, and the loss. But a silent fire burned therein, and Eighth was struck by the strength of this girl.

"That's not my friend. Not anymore," she said quietly.

She brushed past him, stepping between him and the skinwalker's horde. Blades appeared suddenly in her hands - thin, sharp daggers that glittered defiantly in the light. They both were yet unnoticed by that monster. But his heart swelled at her ready defense.

Fool. This is why you are here to begin with. Remember. Remember your exile.

Somehow, facing a being from the underworld, Eighth could not care.

"Eighth, run."

And run he did.

* * *

Eighth of the Eve darted towards the bend in the hallway. Just past it, the door yawned open. He needed only cover a distance of five meters.

Five meters of open floor, where anyone, man or monstrosity, could see him. Five meters of danger of the highest order. Five meters where it might see him.

Eighth felt the strength of his stride, marveled at how his pace left no sounds. Seiju, still at his shoulder, huddled down, gripping his shoulder tightly. Their bond had never been stronger. Right then, he could have crossed the densest grove of Lokui at a dead sprint, and quite possibly not have disturbed a single leaf.

Thank you, old friend.

Another second, and he would be out in the open. He clenched his fist, and the violet veins of his glove flared anew. The quicksilver followed, rippling down the floor behind him. Eighth focused on it, felt the world seemingly slow from his concentration. He reached out, praying that he would not fail this time. Praying he got the timing right. Praying no one looked his way. Praying nothing went wrong.

Please, Patji.

He was at the bend.

He thrust his hand forth, and the quicksilver flowed before him. In the same breath, Eighth leapt forward, stretched his arms out and locking his knees.

The quicksilver flowed beneath him right as his feet landed. The silvery metal was slick - slick as ice. His feet landed, and he shot forward like a stone from a sling. The speed of his jump diminished not at all, and he sped across the intervening space almost too fast for him to react. Praise Patji, Seiju was still with him. He jumped again, then swept his hand to the side, the quicksilver racing past him. He landed hands-first, tucking himself into a roll as Seiju soundlessly took to the air. He came to his feet, muscles tensed from the speed. It took his body a moment to believe the motion had stopped, then he sagged against a wall.

He shook his head, turning to the doorway. He was out of the skinwalker's sightline. Good. He guided the quicksilver back into his waterskin, moving swiftly. If they were lucky, he had gone past unnoticed. If not...

Time to run.

Eighth released his weightloss, felt himself settle more heavily on his feet. He held the waterskin aloft, gesturing hurriedly towards it. Come on, he thought. Pull on it. Get over here.

Escape.

@Lunamor @Stormlightsong

Eza couldn't help but stare at that strange, beautiful metal that almost completely overtook her vision. It seemed alive, somehow. Even the most talented allomancers couldn't cause metal to morph and move like that. It was absolutely fascinating. That glowing glove thingy Eighth wore appeared to be allowing him to control it. Maybe Eighth wouldn't notice if a tiny bit of the shiny substance went missing.

Most people probably couldn't have done what he just did even discounting the metal, too. The grace and deftness of his movements were almost unnatural. Maybe he was a Pewterarm, although she felt like he would've mentioned it at some point by now if he was. He didn't look very Scadrian, either.

Her eyes followed the metallic liquid as it retreated into the waterskin, and she noticed him gesturing towards it. The urgency and awfulness of the situation hit her again, jolting her out of her reverie. Her thoughts sped up, her time spent pulling herself through the air on unknown objects informing her ability to make snap decisions. Asylum was to her left, safety straight ahead. They might see her if she moved, but they were getting closer. If she waited for the perfect opportunity, it might never be there.

Even if they were spotted, Eza and Eighth were fast. They might be able to outrun Asylum. They hadn't done anything to antagonize them, so they might not bother to put in the effort to chase them in the first place. They weren't easy targets like the poor prisoners were. Eighth was giving her a chance she had to take before it vanished. With how much effort it had taken her to pull him down a hallway, she wasn't worried that he wouldn't be able to handle the force she exerted on the metal he held. Its line was weirdly thick, too. It was incredibly heavy, even for a solid chunk of metal. It could hold her weight reasonably well.

She leapt straight up into the air, then pulled on the pouch. Soundlessly she shot across the hallway, her loose hair streaming out behind her. She hadn't bothered to put up her hood; the attacker had already seen her face. As she sped closer to her new friend, she glanced to the side. Her old friend was hardly recognizable. Their eyes were familiar, though. Cold, dark, colorless. They'd once talked about how Eza hadn't understood how powerful they were, how they didn't fear the monsters from children's scary stories. She finally understood why. Someone so full of themself couldn't be afraid of themself.

Eza stopped pulling and her momentum slowed. She pulled gently on the hinges of a closed door behind her to completely cancel her it. A mere second after she'd begun her decision, her feet silently met the ground, and she was now standing in front of Eighth.

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I'm gonna hold off on having Eza do more to see if Asylum noticed her and Eighth.

@Stormlightsong

Edited by Lunamor
Mercury thing
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17 minutes ago, Lunamor said:

I'm gonna hold off on having Eza do more to see if Asylum noticed her and Eighth.

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Agreed. Also, before I forget, I think Stormlightsong mentioned thralls guarding the entrances to the constabulary offices in a previous post.

On 7/7/2024 at 8:37 PM, Stormlightsong said:

Asylum walked through the constabulary with purpose. They’d already set up a perimeter of thralls to guard the exits, but they didn’t have enough minions to stop anyone serious. 

More action for Eighth and Eza, I suppose. At least they aren't vampires. Oh, and they both might bump into Fenna at some point, since they've passed Asylum's position.

 

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When Fenna arrives in the building, she would most likely not encounter any of Asylum’s minions right away, right? By my count, there are only eight so far (three vampires, including the Slider, and five zombies), one of which is busy looking for Arranis, while several are guarding the exits, and others are with Asylum. Does that sound about right, or are there more by now? Just checking to make sure I get it right when I RP next (although I’ll probably wait a bit yet.)

 

Edited by Speeding Steelrunner
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16 hours ago, Speeding Steelrunner said:

When Fenna arrives in the building, she would most likely not encounter any of Asylum’s minions right away, right? By my count, there are only eight so far (three vampires, including the Slider, and five zombies), one of which is busy looking for Arranis, while several are guarding the exits, and others are with Asylum. Does that sound about right, or are there more by now? Just checking to make sure I get it right when I RP next (although I’ll probably wait a bit yet.)

Quote

Most like, yes. Basic math with the numbers we have tells us that Asylum has two thralls with him, so only three are left to guard the exits. That leaves one vampire hunting Arranis, one in the form of the Slider, and one unaccounted for. Maybe it's feeding, I'm not sure.

Of course, the collection of prisoners will serve nicely as a new source of thralls, but that will require action from Stormlightsong. So, unless your character is really unlucky and encounters the missing vampire, you will not encounter anyone.

Could Fenna beat a vampire?

Edited by Longshot97
Forgot the quotation box
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I don’t know how tough these vampires are supposed to be, but they normally can only be killed by sunlight or a stake through the heart and are repelled by garlic. Cosmerians wouldn’t be aware of these superstitions, so Fenna couldn’t take advantage of them. Enough blunt force should incapacitate them, though, or she might get lucky and impale one with a wooden object.

Short answer: probably, though maybe not easily.

Btw, remember that out if character comments are supposed to be quote boxed.

Edit: you fixed it already.

 

Edited by Speeding Steelrunner
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On 7/10/2024 at 12:17 AM, Lunamor said:

Eza couldn't help but stare at that strange, beautiful metal that almost completely overtook her vision. It seemed alive, somehow. Even the most talented allomancers couldn't cause metal to morph and move like that. It was absolutely fascinating. That glowing glove thingy Eighth wore appeared to be allowing him to control it. Maybe Eighth wouldn't notice if a tiny bit of the shiny substance went missing.

Most people probably couldn't have done what he just did even discounting the metal, too. The grace and deftness of his movements were almost unnatural. Maybe he was a Pewterarm, although she felt like he would've mentioned it at some point by now if he was. He didn't look very Scadrian, either.

Her eyes followed the metallic liquid as it retreated into the waterskin, and she noticed him gesturing towards it. The urgency and awfulness of the situation hit her again, jolting her out of her reverie. Her thoughts sped up, her time spent pulling herself through the air on unknown objects informing her ability to make snap decisions. Asylum was to her left, safety straight ahead. They might see her if she moved, but they were getting closer. If she waited for the perfect opportunity, it might never be there.

Even if they were spotted, Eza and Eighth were fast. They might be able to outrun Asylum. They hadn't done anything to antagonize them, so they might not bother to put in the effort to chase them in the first place. They weren't easy targets like the poor prisoners were. Eighth was giving her a chance she had to take before it vanished. With how much effort it had taken her to pull him down a hallway, she wasn't worried that he wouldn't be able to handle the force she exerted on the metal he held. Its line was weirdly thick, too. It was incredibly heavy, even for a solid chunk of metal. It could hold her weight reasonably well.

She leapt straight up into the air, then pulled on the pouch. Soundlessly she shot across the hallway, her loose hair streaming out behind her. She hadn't bothered to put up her hood; the attacker had already seen her face. As she sped closer to her new friend, she glanced to the side. Her old friend was hardly recognizable. Their eyes were familiar, though. Cold, dark, colorless. They'd once talked about how Eza hadn't understood how powerful they were, how they didn't fear the monsters from children's scary stories. She finally understood why. Someone so full of themself couldn't be afraid of themself.

Eza stopped pulling and her momentum slowed. She pulled gently on the hinges of a closed door behind her to completely cancel her it. A mere second after she'd begun her decision, her feet silently met the ground, and she was now standing in front of Eighth.

@Stormlightsong

As Asylum looked around for their next test subject, they saw something in corner of their eye. They turned and saw the two figures right before they disappeared into the hallway. Eza? They thought trying to recall what they had just seen. Something was wrong though; what they had seen was a look of terror, and who was that man? Why were they here?

Asylum looked down at their withered hands to find the first answer. Swiftly, they walked over to a cell with a young man trying desperately to hide in the corner. With a flick of their wrist, Asylum pulled the man forward and placed a hand on his forehead. The man’s skin wrinkled and decayed as life returned to Asylum. Their skin brightened, and the blackened veins receded until only Asylum’s eyes showed the darkness within. 

Asylum released the shriveled man and beckoned the darkness. Out of the shadows a black cat came to sit at their feet. Asylum spoke, their voice refreshed and human, “find Eza, protect her and lure her back to me.” That settled, Asylum pondered what to do next. They remembered passing a break room that the officers used to pass time. It would have to do. Picking five prisoners, they directed their thralls to bring the test subjects to the new room gaged; the screaming was going to give them a headache.as they walked down the hallways, they looked through their book for a new thing to try.

On 7/11/2024 at 8:33 PM, Speeding Steelrunner said:

I don’t know how tough these vampires are supposed to be, but they normally can only be killed by sunlight or a stake through the heart and are repelled by garlic. Cosmerians wouldn’t be aware of these superstitions, so Fenna couldn’t take advantage of them. Enough blunt force should incapacitate them, though, or she might get lucky and impale one with a wooden object.

Short answer: probably, though maybe not easily.

Quote

So, to answer to answer the question of how one would kill one of Asylum’s thralls you must understand how they work.

First most of the thralls are not vampires but zombies. Asylum’s zombies are mindless but obedient and do not try to eat people. They have no regeneration, but can survive losing almost any part of their body.

Vampires on the other hand are savage and driven by hunger but brutally effective. They can be easily outsmarted but they are fast, strong, and stealthy. They have regeneration but not nearly as much as radiant’s or gold ferring’s which means they can’t regrow limbs. 

To explain more, I must first explain how they work on an investiture level. Though Asylum is not Cosmerian, I am going to say it works with investiture of some sort. That being said, what Asylum is doing to reanimate the thralls is catching the spirts of the dying people before they can go to the spiritual realm, and altering it before stapling it back onto their bodies, which means that they are both cognitive shadows and have pretty messed up cognitive spider webs.

so to answer the question how do you kill one of Asylum’s zombies/Vampires here is my answer: 1. any superstition related to them (even though most people don’t know them, Arranis might.), 2. Though dismemberment might not kill them it will stop them so that’s useful, 3. Since vampires are more connected to their bodies than zombies are, stabing them in the head might work.

Also, just so you guys are aware, Asylum may have made some more thralls in between killing the first round of guards and getting to the prisoners. So I’d say there are currently 4 vampires (1 with Asylum, 1 tracking Arranis, and 2 wandering around), and 6-8 zombies (2 with Asylum and 4-6 guarding the exits.)

hope this helps!

@Longshot97 @Scars of Hathsin

Edited by Stormlightsong
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Fenna, Smokestack Constabulary

Fenna crashed into the ground with a sudden lurch, spraying debris in all directions and creating web-like cracks in the floor.

Quote

Does the building have multiple floors? If so, we’ll just say that Fenna smashed through all of them.

She released her ironmind and briefly extinguished her pewter. Sharp aching flooded into her legs. Without pewter, the pain felt worse than it really was. By flaring her metal, she had protected herself from most of the damage—she would only have sone bruises, and maybe a minor cut or two.

Fenna started burning pewter again, completely deadening the pain, and picked her way out of the pile of rubble she had created.

It was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Fenna pulled out her weapon and stored weight, making her lighter on her feet. She crept forward down the hall.

What am I doing here? I’m such a rusting idiot.

Quote

Everyone in the building most likely heard that. I think Eza and Eighth are closest, but I’m not sure where Arranis is in the building.

I’m assuming that some of the constables, including Phemus, are still left, but they probably don’t have time to worry about that big crash they just heard.

@Lunamor @Longshot97 @Stormlightsong @Scars of Hathsin

Edited by Speeding Steelrunner
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On 7/9/2024 at 9:17 PM, Lunamor said:
Spoiler

Eza couldn't help but stare at that strange, beautiful metal that almost completely overtook her vision. It seemed alive, somehow. Even the most talented allomancers couldn't cause metal to morph and move like that. It was absolutely fascinating. That glowing glove thingy Eighth wore appeared to be allowing him to control it. Maybe Eighth wouldn't notice if a tiny bit of the shiny substance went missing.

Most people probably couldn't have done what he just did even discounting the metal, too. The grace and deftness of his movements were almost unnatural. Maybe he was a Pewterarm, although she felt like he would've mentioned it at some point by now if he was. He didn't look very Scadrian, either.

Her eyes followed the metallic liquid as it retreated into the waterskin, and she noticed him gesturing towards it. The urgency and awfulness of the situation hit her again, jolting her out of her reverie. Her thoughts sped up, her time spent pulling herself through the air on unknown objects informing her ability to make snap decisions. Asylum was to her left, safety straight ahead. They might see her if she moved, but they were getting closer. If she waited for the perfect opportunity, it might never be there.

Even if they were spotted, Eza and Eighth were fast. They might be able to outrun Asylum. They hadn't done anything to antagonize them, so they might not bother to put in the effort to chase them in the first place. They weren't easy targets like the poor prisoners were. Eighth was giving her a chance she had to take before it vanished. With how much effort it had taken her to pull him down a hallway, she wasn't worried that he wouldn't be able to handle the force she exerted on the metal he held. Its line was weirdly thick, too. It was incredibly heavy, even for a solid chunk of metal. It could hold her weight reasonably well.

She leapt straight up into the air, then pulled on the pouch. Soundlessly she shot across the hallway, her loose hair streaming out behind her. She hadn't bothered to put up her hood; the attacker had already seen her face. As she sped closer to her new friend, she glanced to the side. Her old friend was hardly recognizable. Their eyes were familiar, though. Cold, dark, colorless. They'd once talked about how Eza hadn't understood how powerful they were, how they didn't fear the monsters from children's scary stories. She finally understood why. Someone so full of themself couldn't be afraid of themself.

Eza stopped pulling and her momentum slowed. She pulled gently on the hinges of a closed door behind her to completely cancel her it. A mere second after she'd begun her decision, her feet silently met the ground, and she was now standing in front of Eighth.

Eighth of the Eve nearly staggered from the sudden force that pulled the waterskin. He braced his knees, holding tight as Eza fairly flew across the open space, her feet not even brushing the ground. Even so, he felt his feet sliding out beneath him, and he reached desperately to anchor a lightline to the hallway.

And missed.

Eighth lurched forward. Thankfully, Eza landed safely beside him. Still, stumbled, only just catching himself on the doorframe.

Right in perfect view of the demon.

7 hours ago, Stormlightsong said:

As Asylum looked around for their next test subject, they saw something in corner of their eye. They turned and saw the two figures right before they disappeared into the hallway. Eza? They thought trying to recall what they had just seen. Something was wrong though; what they had seen was a look of terror, and who was that man? Why were they here?

Eighth felt himself freeze, like a preybeast hearing a trapper's approach. Those infernal eyes caught him, pinned him in place, boring through skin and sinew directly to his soul. That eerie smile lingered, even as those midnight orbs widened in alarm.

Eighth whirled, seizing Eza by the arm, and sprinted down the hall. Blooded pounded in his ears in time with his steps. They had been spotted. Patji, they had been spotted. The demon knew they were here.

Seiju trilled frantically from his shoulder, but could offer little aid. Their flight was down an clear hall, and a person could only run so fast, no matter the path they took. Still, his steps were effortlessly soundless as they ran, and terror lent his feet wings.

Further down the hall, a gaping door opened to a bloodstained room, a prone corpse just visible. Eighth felt his stomach heave, and he turned on the nearest intersection. Behind, ominous footfalls sounded from the cellblock.

There had to be a way out somewhere. They had entered somewhere central to the building, just outside the prison area. All they needed do was head in the general direction of the outermost walls. Eighth was confident he could break out of anything short of solid stone.

7 hours ago, Speeding Steelrunner said:

Fenna, Smokestack Constabulary

Fenna crashed into the ground with a sudden lurch, spraying debris in all directions and creating web-like cracks in the floor.

Without warning, the constabulary shook. Eighth fell to one knee as the walls rippled and the floor quaked. Seiju clutched his shoulder even tighter, nearly falling from her perch.

What manner of sorcery did that monster wield? How could he shake the earth itself?

He raises the dead from the Depths, fool. What challenge is the living world to him?

@Lunamor

Quote

So, several things are going on. Not knowing what else to do, I'll try to break things down.

It seems like @Stormlightsong is incidentally going the same direction Eighth and Eza have fled. Not in pursuit. Asylum mentions "remember[ing] passing a break room that the officers used to pass time," probably meaning he passed it on his way to the prison cells.

@Lunamor it's likely that Eza will notice Asylum's black cat before anyone else. This specific spell reminds me a lot of their first meeting, where a tossed coin was all it took to guide Eza to meeting Asylum. How exactly the cat would try to "lure" Eza is your call.

@Speeding Steelrunner so long as @Lunamor agrees, I am open to meeting Fenna in the hallways of the constabulary. It would be an amusing contrast - her creeping stealthily down the hall, then Eighth and Eza (pending RP action) just flat-out running for their lives.

Also, a good way to facilitate RP between your character and others might be a fight. Just something to consider. There are two vampires just wandering the building. 

Edited by Longshot97
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