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Post by tsukikoko on Aug 17, 2017 17:34:40 GMT -6
[OOC: Viktoria is in agreement about regrouping. She puts the crippled guard out of his misery, then quickly makes her way down a level, will shoot any enemies that cross her line of sight. Or use brute force to take them out if they're too close.]
Just as she had fired, Viktoria had lain her ears flat against her skull. It was a trained, reflexive movement, designed to protect her hearing from the otherwise explosive sound. A good thing too, because the guns of this world were much louder than she was used to. Both shots hit their mark, the guard's body twisted violently as though punched, then crumpled to the ground in a rapidly pooling stain of red.
The humanoid was on her feet even before her target hit the ground, moving forwards to assess the remaining guard. He had been very adeptly crippled; unable to move and drawing wheezing breaths that weakened with every passing second. Alarms began to sound, red lights flashed. Familiar. A lockdown emergency procedure. Gunshots and screaming from other floors. No-one would be coming to help this man or, even if they did, with the base now on lockdown he would not receive good care quickly enough - would likely never walk again anyway. It was cruel to let him suffer and slowly die here. Viktoria was many things, but she did not wish to be cruel.
Without a word, Viktoria levelled her gun at the man's head and fired. It had been a long time since she had killed this way, but when the need arose, the scarred feline was still more than capable.
[Regroup.] She could make out Sarkany's growling language even over the wailing klaxons. Viktoria looked round, saw the seraph aiding Ari onto his back. Satisfied enough with the arrangement she nodded, once, then was off, running towards the stairwell that would lead to the floor below. Bare feet made little sound across the tiles compared to the shrieking alarm overhead, so she didn't focus all that much on stealth this time around. Her focus was to reach her teammates, provide support in whatever predicament they might be in.
Any guard - or personnel she otherwise assessed as dangerous - would soon find themselves faced with a charging, muscled warpath of a creature while high velocity slugs of metal slammed into their flesh. Viktoria did not have the time or inclination to hesitate. She needed to reach her comrades.
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Post by Salandis on Aug 21, 2017 4:35:54 GMT -6
[Raine hit a wall with a crash, and is now in a great deal more pain. But still on his feet, and charging madly down the hall to Dr. Hahn. He will lash with the whip first, but honestly thats more of a feint- he means to sholder barge this lightweight researcher into the ground.]
Raine barely noticed the dying technicians on the ground. As he followed Taconin down the hall, his eyes were on the strange man ahead who had evidenced no distress as the obvious mental onslaught the young creature was blasting out.
To say he looked unusual was an understatement. His hair was a dark brown, almost red shade that actually resembled Raine's own - but only covered perhaps two thirds of his scalp. One eye looked to be replaced by something glowing and very probably magical. In fact, the entire side of his face appeared to be a different shade of skin to the rest of him, as though it had been grafted - though there was very little seam. And to top off the strangeness, something that appeared to be a third arm peaked out just above his back. He was odd enough looking that even in the middle of his building fury, Raine took a moment to inspect the... nonhuman.
It was probably not the best idea. The researcher's right eye cleared of darkness, and Raine abruptly felt as though he were falling in place - although by the hall around him he was rising. Before he could take that anomaly in further, he found himself hurled at speed down the corridor where he collided quite sharply with a wall.
The impact hurt him not at all, needless to say - except that he had twisted in the air, and so collapsed on his arm. The one that had been shot, and still contained a bullet. The bullet that, under the tender ministrations of the rest of his body falling on it, decided to protest by shifting into what was probably the main sensory nerve for his arm.
Pain, pain beyond anything Raine had felt in centuries ripped through his arm. He screamed, first in pain, and then in fury. With the kind of focused effort only gained in practice, Raine pushed the pain out of his mind and let rage take its place. He pulled himself upright, checking to see if his arm was bleeding further (it was) and clapping a hand over the blood to freeze it. The cold hurt almost as much as it had initially - especially since the bullet chilled also - and Raine swooned slightly for a moment before shaking himself. Throwing people like him around would take a great deal of energy. And after a throw like that, Mr. Creeper probably wasn't expecting him to get back up at all. In which case, he had a suprise coming for him.
Raine broke into a jog, that turned into a run, that became a charge. A warcry from a millenia ago burst from his lips as he returned to... whatever creation was in his way, as his good hand grasped the handle of his whip, and he delibrately bounced off the wall around Taconin before letting it flash out towards his target.
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Post by Marshmallow on Sept 7, 2017 21:27:42 GMT -6
This Round...
Bruse, in the wake of his odd encounter with the unknown figure, attempted to follow the newly-freed creature as it vanished from the corridor...
The spirit would find that following the thing was no simple matter. Unlike Bruse, it did not simply phase through solid matter. It had left this plane of reality entirely. But figuring out where it had reappeared would not prove difficult, once he was within earshot of the shouts coming from the uppermost floor.
The top floor of the facility, Level 1F as labelled on diagrams near the entrance and lifts, provided living and recreational spaces. Several scientists, doctors, researchers, and their protective forces lived on-site. If not for the blare of alarms and the distorted voice crackling and stuttering over the intercom, the men and women on floor 1F may well have slept through the entire infiltration.
As it was, by the time Bruse caught up with the creature, the top floor was a frenzy of activity. Soldiers previously asleep in the barracks had rallied at the sound of alarms. Some were aiding in the evacuation of researchers through emergency exits, most had gathered weapons and were making for the stairs to answer whatever threat had taken down their systems.
Their advance had been slowed by the creature. Several men and women already lay dead, their bodies little more than mangled shreds of armor and splatters of gore. Trilling shrieks reverberated down the hall as the creature's body warped and twisted. To the mortal soldiers, it's ever-shifting body moved in jerks and spasms. The limitations of their human minds rendered them incapable of accurately perceiving the full range of its movements, and so it lurched through their numbers virtually unimpeded as it shredded one pour soul after another.
However, it would appear that bullets were not entirely ineffective, if the drips and splatters of a viscous ichor from the thing's twisting, rippling form were any indication. Yet it hardly slowed in its rampage.
Viktoria put the wounded guard out of his suffering. Together with Sarkany and Ari, they made their way down the stairs to Floor B1, aiming to regroup and find Marchelute...
In addition to the flashing red alarms, rows of small lights now glowed just above the baseboards on either side of the corridor and along the stairs as they descended. These emergency lights shed soft illumination on the path to an emergency exit door at the far end of the hall. The night shift seemed to run on a skeleton crew, but a handful of the office doors hung open. A few straggling researchers, some clutching briefcases presumably carrying priceless data, and the cleaning staff were making their way to the safety of that door when Viktoria and the others reached the landing.
With the blare of alarms, the trio were unheard. But one wary glance over the shoulder was all it took to turn the cluster of employees from anxious but orderly evacuation to panicked flight. One woman screamed. None of them appeared armed, they only fled for the far door.
Another shout reached them a heartbeat after, from the second hall to their right. This one was far more familiar, as Raine recovered from the pain of his arm and charged back down the branching corridor.
For Ari, the draw of the Pact bond seemed to grow only stronger as they descended. An invisible force was pulling at him, nearly physical in its sensation. Echoes of rage and pain from the other end of that bond radiated from the brand between his shoulders. Marchelute was close, just one more corner it seemed...
Taconin and Raine both focused their attention and efforts on the Strange Doctor. One lashed out with barbed tails, and the other with an iron-laced whip...
The lights blinked out, and were replaced by red flashing light and a squawking of alarms. Between the pulses of red, Dr. Hahn's smile faded. He had only the span of heartbeats to contemplate the potential severity of the situation that had befallen the rest of the facility.
Walter recoiled from the shadowy creature, twisting himself out of the reach of its snapping jaws. It seemed his sting had no more effect on the thing other than to gain its attention. Capturing this one would be no easy matter. Walter clicked his tongue in disappointment, considering his options even as he ducked and dodged through the lashing of its three tails.
He was deceptively agile. Two of Taconin's three tails struck only empty air as the odd-eyed doctor weaved around the young demon. The third managed to catch his leg as he moved, cutting a sharp line across the former human's left calf. Walter hissed in pain. He spun, left eye bright and focused. But before he could counter, he heard the warcry from the mouth of the corridor, the pounding of footsteps. He turned just as he saw the red-haired man rebound off of the wall and lash out with a whip. How had he recovered so quickly?!
The aura of Dr. Hahn's telekinesis shimmered, but Raine's momentum proved too much to be instantly halted. Rather, the Irishman was shoved, pushed just enough off-kilter so that the doctor could avoid his charge. With the whip proving a feint rather than a true attack, Hahn was able to twist out of the way. He leapt for the opposite wall, scaling the surface like a gecko and clinging to the ceiling.
"Vat iz zis?" he barked, moving backwards along the ceiling to keep his distance. "Who are you? Are you vis zee WDSA..?" They hardly looked like agents, but he couldn't rule out the possibility of their involvement. Who else would dare assault this facility so brazenly?
Drawn out by the blaring klaxons and the sounds of struggle, other researchers yet alive and working in the labs began to spill into the hallway. They took one look at the monster at the other end, at their superior crawling backwards across the ceiling tiles, and they fled. Away toward the freight lifts, toward the promised safety of emergency hatches and escape tunnels.
Beyond the laboratory doors nearest to Taconin and Raine, another ragged roar sounded. Something heavy and probably expensive crashed to the floor.
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Post by Pearl Dragon on Sept 8, 2017 12:59:38 GMT -6
[[Bruse follows the sounds of mayhem until he finds the creature, helping a few lost souls pass on along the way. When he finds it, he attempts to ask again for Marchelute]]
As Bruse phased through the many walls and floors to attempt to follow the creature, he found that where he expected to see it as he emerged, there was nothing. In fact, even through the first wall, there was no other sign of the thing other than a few distant sounds above that grew louder the closer he got to them. Alarms, static intercom messages, and screaming mixed with gun fire drew Bruse's attention and he followed it like a moth to the flame, intent on finding both the odd, otherworldly being as well as Marchelute.
However, upon arriving in the aftermath of the creature's destruction, Bruse halted and gazed mournfully at the remains of bodies littering the floors where the creature's wrath had apparently wrecked havoc. Many of the souls of the departed had left this plane, some even passing through the walls from the path of the monster's destruction, but some lingered in the hallway, faint and wavering, more than likely lost and confused after meeting such a violent and sudden demise. Those few that Bruse passed would gaze up at him with clouded eyes and quivering spirits, some even reaching out to him as if for help, and he would simply stop, whisper to them deeply before watching their solemn faces calm and then disappear into the next realm. It was the least he could do, helping them to move on before they became tethered between worlds in a traumatic limbo of eternity, forced to walk the halls in a looping, repetitive search of their previous lives. Once each soul was pointed in the right direction, Bruse would continue on down the hallways, following the sounds of mayhem.
When finally he reached the heart of the commotion, soldiers rushing through him in an effort to slow its rampage, he stood towering over the crowds of fleeing humans, invisible to all except the creature. Slowly, so as not to send it into a further rage, Bruse reached out to its mind and attempted to connect with it once more, voicing a calm request to lead him to Marchelute, although it was edged with growing urgency. He knew it was more than likely preoccupied in its rampage, and so he continued these attempts to communicate softly at first, and all while growing more and more insistent, hoping it would respond in kind to him.
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Post by tsukikoko on Sept 9, 2017 9:31:22 GMT -6
[Viktoria has a brief flashback, then runs into the corridor where she heard Raine's battle cry. Fires off a 3-round burst from her rifle at ceiling-Hahn.]
As Viktoria ran she hostlered her pistol and switched to holding her rifle in both hands, ready to fire if needed. By the time she descended the stairs the scarred feline was greeted by the sight of evacuating personnel. They were calm at first, orderly, until a glance over one's shoulder and a scream catapulted the entire group into a panicked melee. The humanoid's nostrils flared, her pupils narrowed to slits as she watched them run. A familiar sight. It would be about now her commander would order the entire terrified group be gunned down.
Her grip tightened on the rifle, vision tunnelling on the backs of the fleeing humans as she continued forward. She was there again; another series of alarms, another mission, another set of targets to destroy. A battlecry to her right, audible even over the blaring alarms, brought Viktoria back to the present. She spun on one heel, charging down the side corridor as she recognised the yell. Raine, though far more furious than she had ever heard him before.
As the muscled feline came round the corner she made an instantaneous assessment of three things; another group of researchers had flooded into the corridor, Raine and Taconin were both grouped further down the hallway and something was crawling around on the ceiling. It might have been human once, but it certainly wasn't now.
Viktoria dropped to one knee, raised the butt of the rifle to her shoulder, took aim at the ceiling and shouted over the blare of the alarms to warn her companions. "FIRRING!" The feline's ears flattened against her skull, her finger moved to the trigger and she fired off a controlled burst of three shots towards the creature on the ceiling. She didn't necessarily need to hit her target, her main aim was to keep the potential danger on the retreat, prevent it from advancing and potentially dropping down to attack Raine or Taconin.
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Post by Salandis on Sept 9, 2017 19:23:44 GMT -6
[Raine was going to attack #36 again, but dropped to the ground to clear the target for Vik.]
The lights flicking to emergency and the blaring alarms could honestly only be taken as a good thing at this point. Enough mayhem somewhere else in the facility would cover their escape. Not that Raine was thinking anywhere near that rationally at the moment. "WDSA?" He spat, rolling to his feet. His whip had been knocked from his hand, but it took a moment only to collect it under the flicking lights. "We're worse than the Police, Doctor." Raines face was almost contorted with rage, as he realised on an instinctive level that he was looking at one of the ones most involved in running this... laboratory. "Did you think you could just steal Marchelute away and not have to face his family?" Whip in hand, he raised it to lash out again at the inhuman.
"FIRRING!"
Raine had a half second to recognise the voice before he dropped hard to the floor. More pain shot up his arm, but it was worth it: Ricochet was probably not going to hurt him, but if one of those bullets went stray he would have more than a wounded arm to worry about. He only hoped Viktorias aim was as well engineered as the rest of her.
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Post by kilnarak on Sept 21, 2017 0:59:31 GMT -6
[ Ari is going wherever Sarkany goes. He's going to try to use his stealth magic to make them hard to look at and notice, and will try to direct Sarky to where Marche is.
Taconin wants to go after Hahn, but a bit of ricochet from Viktoria's shot hit him and it startled him. ]
Ari's fingers curled in Sarkany's smooth mane, his other arm clutching the bundle of evidence to his chest. The blare of sirens made it hard to focus - the pull of the Pact made it harder still. His fingers twitched, shifted subtly, folding back on themselves, nails hooking and elongating, beginning to shift. He managed to stop it there - he needed hands right now, needed to be able to hold onto things - but it was difficult to keep in check. His instincts told him to shift - to fight or flee - but the rational part of his mind knew that was a bad idea.
His claw-hands twitched and curled, flexing to hold tight to Sarkany, hold tight to the papers and scrape against the box. His leg itched and burned, flesh knitting back together. It would be tender, but he'd be able to walk on it again soon. There were people in the halls, fleeing people, and he pressed himself as flat as he could against Sarkany's back, trying to make a small target of himself - any of those people could have guns. They didn't look like soldiers, but you didn't need to be a soldier to shoot someone and he didn't want to get shot again.
A familiar voice sounded out and he lifted his head a touch, his breath catching in his throat. Raine? He was about to point it out, but Viktoria was already headed that way. "We should-We should go too. It's-It's that way," his voice was small, low, speaking next to the weird horn things that looked like Sarkany's ears. He thought they were ears anyway, they moved like ears, even if they didn't look quite like ears.
It sounded like fighting up ahead, and he bit his lip before he continued: "Can-Can you... do that thing, so people don't notice us? I'll do it too, maybe we can... get past the fighting to where Marche is..." He didn't wait for an answer, already focusing as best he could on the spell, murmuring the key under his breath. Don't notice us, don't notice us, he repeated like a mantra in his mind, trying to direct eyes away from them, like water off a duck's feathers. He knew well enough how to make himself unnoticeable, although he had never tried to include another person - theoretically, it should work, right? Well if not... hopefully Sarkany could do something too.
---
Taconin was aware of the approach of the others, his mental net stretched wide to remain aware of his surroundings. There were people fleeing - he paid them no mind beyond sipping at their panic, their fear, without directly acting upon it himself. He could feel Father too, could hear him bellowing not so much farther away. He should go, should rescue him but... But there was still the man on the ceiling.
He reared up on his hind legs, his body shifting and elongating. An extra set of limbs separated from his torso, braced against the wall as he stretched after the ceiling man. He darted his head up to snap at him, his tails lashing and writhing in the space behind him. He wanted to get the man. The man wasn't afraid, but did he catch a hint of worry? The man had hurt Father, had hurt Raine. The man should be afraid.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall, the others were coming nearer still. A shriek rose in his throat, wavering in the air as it escaped him, sharp and piercing. Angry. He darted his head up to snap again and barely heard Viktoria's shout: "FIRRING!" He didn't have time to consider what that meant, why it might be bad for him. And then a shot struck the ceiling near his head, a sharp shard of a bullet bouncing back and cutting through his throat. It didn't really hurt so much as startle him, and the demonling recoiled, his body curling down tight to the floor as his black gaze finally left the ceiling man to focus on his friends, confused.
Why? The thought-word directed itself at Viktoria, a faint hint of hurt clinging to the word. Don't hit me, I'm not bad.
A trickle of blood seeped from the thin hole in his throat, oozing slick black down his hide. It hadn't struck anything important, but still he took a moment to rearrange himself, moving his heart from the base of his long neck to his lower back, near where his tails formed.
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Post by MP on Oct 15, 2017 22:07:06 GMT -6
[OOC: Sarkany requests that Viktoria hold fire. He attempts to charge down the hall and around #36.]
Through the wail of alarms and fleeing humans, he heard Ari's voice at his ear:
"Can - can you...do that thing, so people don't notice us?"
Sarkany snarled a negative, talons splaying and angling for balance as he came to a hover, hesitating. He needed a human shape for a disguise - out of the question. That was a barb on the man-thing's tail, and he wasn't about to shift into something with a softer skin. He turned a yellow eye at the rapid report of Viktoria's rifle, muscles tensing. Above the final burst of gunfire, he called out in a rumble.
[ Going through. Hold fire. ]
He paused only to check that the rifle faltered. Then his talons squealed over the floor as he kicked violently forward. He wasn't sure if the cat's magic was enough to hide a creature his size, so he compromised. Sarkany launched himself forward in a silent charge, keeping low and to one side of the hall, his yellow eyes fixed on the crawling figure. As he drew level with it, the seraph bared teeth and talons and loosed a savage hunting scream - a feint. The point was to warn it aside if it saw him - to startle it into a mistake if it didn't. Instead of striking at the thing, he dropped another few feet, belly all but scraping the floor as he swerved around it and darted for the sound of Marchelute's roars.
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Post by Marshmallow on Jan 30, 2018 0:54:21 GMT -6
This Round...
Bruse continued to follow in the wake of the creature he had aided the escape of, attempting further communication in the midst of its vengeful rampage...
The ghost's attempts to reach out seemed to hit a wall, as the creature ignored him utterly. But as Bruse pressed with greater and greater urgency and determination, the flickering shape wobbled and stuttered to a halt. The dripping halves of a tattered soldier still hung limp from its myriad limbs as it slowly turned the deformed cone that was its 'head' in Bruse's direction. It shook with rage, ichor mixing in slick pools with the blood of its victims, and the first of its thoughts to pound back into Bruse's mind was a deafening blast of agony and anger.
After a beat, the assault of its thoughts cut out. Following closely on the heels of its outburst were softer, more ordered thoughts. Impressions of stairs going down, of long halls and sharp turns, of men in white coats and doors with clear labels - L-1, L-2, and on. It could show him no more, it had not seen where Bruse's companion had been taken precisely.
A burst of gunfire interrupted the exchange. The creature let out a warbling cry and twisted upon itself as some fragment of its alien form exploded in a spray of gore. It spasmed in the air, then whipped about and vanished through the corner of an open door, leaving only the stain of its dark blood behind.
Taconin, Viktoria and Raine banded together to deal with the threat of the former-human doctor, the sinister #36...
The way the shadowy creature changed and stretched its form to reach the doctor was both immensely fascinating, and incredibly troubling. The former human recoiled from the long jaws and needle teeth, but not fast enough. Taconin's snapping maw clamped down upon his right arm, and Dr. Hahn hissed in pain as blood bloomed across his pristine sleeve.
The red-haired intruder snapped something at him, there was clear venom in his voice. 'Did you think you could just steal Marchelute away and not have to face his family?'
Family? Who..? Wait... Was he talking about Subject Atar? The fire creature? He had to be. These invaders had found their way down to this level, where he was in the midst of examinations on the incorrectly-named 'Mountain Devil'. It couldn't be coincidence.
Hahn grimaced, working to wrench his arm free of the shadow creature, and twisted to snap back at the stranger. And he was abruptly interrupted by one of the other invaders.
"FIRRING!"
A burst of rifle fire followed the thickly accented warning.
His spectral eye flared brightly in its socket as he flattened his mutated body against the ceiling. A pressure wave rolled out from his body, a field of faintly shimmering blue. He had nowhere near the power to stop bullets outright, but it was enough to push them just slightly off course. What could have been a head-shot pelted twice into the ceiling just aside of him - the third bullet clipped his gnarled arm as it streaked past. Ricochet was a threat, but as it turned out, it spared him further mauling from the shadow demon. The inky creature released his arm and recoiled, freeing the doctor to retaliate.
Finally.
Pressure wrapped itself around the rifle in Viktoria's hands. Shimmering blue light enveloped the weapon as it was suddenly twisted out of her grasp. As though it were on the end of a reel, the gun rocketed away down the corridor to be caught in the twist of the doctor's tail. As Hahn backed away down the ceiling, doors to either side of the hall rattled on their hinges, wrapped in the same blue sheen. Pins clattered to the floor from their hinges, and the door panels were plucked free from their frames. One after another, the laboratory doors were launched broad-side at the intruders. Raine's short stature, flattened against the floor to avoid stray bullets, felt only a scuff on the shoulder from an edge of a passing door. Taconin and Viktoria, however, took the brunt of the attack.
Sarkany and Ari attempted to bypass the conflict enveloping the hallway, intent on finding Marchelute at long last...
Ari's attempted illusion did nothing to mask their presence from the doctor's supernatural vision. He saw them clearly with his spectral eye as they charged. However, the gangly figure clinging to the ceiling only twisted back and away from Sarkany's feint, too caught up in his struggles with the others to lash out or waylay something so large and so fast. The door they angled toward was only a short distance beyond him and they were free to dart inside unchallenged. The sight that awaited them in the sterile laboratory and medical theatre was... not good.
The good news was that Marchelute was indeed inside, and was very much alive. That was the only good news, for he had certainly seen better days.
The ifrit lay on a broad, heavy steel table, restrained by thick straps and metal cuffs with chains that pinned his arms and legs to the table. Even his wings were being kept tightly folded by heavy-duty steel clamps. A nearly seamless, sturdy band of metal ringed his neck almost too tightly, the skin around it showed clear signs of irritation. A small red light and a serial number were the only identifying marks on the collar. The lower half of his face was hidden beneath a molded mask of treated leather and metal buckles. A muzzle, obviously designed to keep him from biting his handlers during examination. He growled behind the mesh, and thin wisps of smoke rose from the mask with every ragged exhale.
As if the restraining devices alone weren't enough, it was clear that Marchelute had suffered cruelly at the hands of his captors.
His right horn had been chopped off only a scarce few inches from his skull. Although the living bone had long since stopped bleeding, the runes etched into what remained pulsed a sickly yellow light that seeped and faded unevenly. In fact, the sulfurous yellow glow illuminated all of his runes; the opposite horn, as well as the brand on his chest. The light was pale, ill, seeping and pulsing in patterns that made no sense. Energy trapped in a broken circuit.
In addition to the broken horn, there were missing patches of skin and scale that dotted his chest, wings and limbs. Neatly cut little plugs of tissue that had simply been removed for one reason or another, including a few of the runes themselves. And last, though hardly least, his right arm had been completely degloved from the elbow, exposing muscle and tendons. His claws had been smoothly worn down to the quick. The withered and corroded state of the scales just above his elbow told the tale: water erosion. IV lines were attached to this arm, feeding an unknown chemical into his bloodstream - presumably a sedative of some description. Clearly the scales had been worn away for that purpose.
There was a fresh bellow, and the clanging of metal as chains and straps were pulled taut. Marchelute struggled in his bindings, but his movements were erratic. The look in his eyes was wild, feral, pupils dilated as much by aggressive fear as by the drugs still circulating his system.
The laboratory was full of various machines, arrays of vials and syringes, and trays of medical instruments - some of which could pass for torture devices. A fire suppression system snaked across the ceiling, exposed and in clear view of the struggling patient as though to warn him 'Use your fire and suffer the consequences'.
A single technician was scrambling to subdue and secure the ifrit, dutifully prepping a syringe despite the urgency of the alarms blaring. However, upon seeing a large multi-legged creature burst through the open doorway, the man abruptly abandoned his duty to flee for another door at the far end of the lab.
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Post by MP on Jan 31, 2018 4:11:51 GMT -6
[OOC: Sarkany searches the technician for a key, requesting that Ari remove the drugs and muzzle and talk some sense into Marchelute. If a key is found, he will release the injured arm and move onto the other limbs IF Marchelute doesn't keep lashing out.]
The smoke through the muzzle and the rattle of chains; the spots of missing scale and flesh; the red of exposed muscle above the ruined claws. The yellow eyes took in the sight in an instant. Snapped onto the fleeing man.
He didn't waste a moment even to snarl. Pausing only to shrug Ari safely from his shoulders, Sarkany sprang after the technician, clearing machinery and trays in a single bound. He put aether and claws into the spring, and his talon slapped down over the man's back like a sledgehammer, dragging deep furrows. The white coat shredded like tissue paper. The man screamed and fell boneless, though his pleas continued wet and ragged as the seraph reeled him in.
Sarkany ignored the sounds, ignored the man's feeble attempts to drag himself away - he'd made sure to break his back. In a momentary blur he was back to human form, rifling through pockets and keyrings for some means of removing the restraints. His eyes were deadly cold.
"Drug and muzzle first," he said to Ari over his shoulder. "Get him sensible." No good getting mauled by a feral packmate. Marchelute might be injured, but he was far from harmless.
Assuming he found a key, Sarkany took up position by the degloved arm, removing the IV if Ari hadn't done so already and assessing their packmate's awareness. A command could clear the ifrit's head, but with his own thoughts as teetering as they were, he couldn't summon it. He'd rather not use mind games anyway, if it could be avoided. Instead he was talking, simply talking, adding his voice to Ari's.
"Easy - easy, old man," he was saying. "We'll have you out in a moment. Try not to roast us, alright?"
Hands first, he decided. Marchelute would feel more able to defend himself with his arms free, and they'd still have room to retreat if he lashed out. He shelved his own horror and fury in favor of such tactical thoughts, though his hand shook imperceptibly as he fitted the key to the lock. Nodding brief warning at Ari, he released the wounded arm - its freedom would likely be the most immediate relief, and the least threat to them. Provided Marchelute didn't lash out, he went around to the remaining cuffs, removing each in turn. There was nothing he could do about the collar, so he simply ignored it for now.
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Post by kilnarak on Jan 31, 2018 4:56:22 GMT -6
[ Taco gets flattened. Taco is pissed. Taco makes himself a shadow-maw and tries to nom on the good doctor.
Ari... mainly tries to keep Marche calm. He gets the muzzle off, and asks Sarkany to see if any of the machines will unlock Marche's collar. ]
Taconin felt liquid heat flood across his jaws as they closed on the bad man's arm. He bit down harder, changing his teeth, making them longer, making them jagged like broken glass. He wanted to hurt the man, something like anger roiling in the black depths of his eyes. And then he had been struck by Viktoria's bullets and released the man, recoiled and withdrew to regather himself.
He had a moment to lift himself from his defensive coil, to begin to move after the badman again, and then something struck him. The door met little resistance in his inky form, it struck him and whipped him back, flattening him against a wall. He had just barely enough time to reshape his heart, his core, to keep it from being crushed. Still, it hurt in a way that he was unused to, being rebounded off the wall. It stunned him, that it had hurt.
And then he regathered his thoughts and released his form, letting it flow and ooze like blood around the edges of the door, letting it pool on the floor, a matte black puddle. The ring he had held clattered as it slid down the wall to land in the slick pool that he had become. He seeped across the floor, spreading himself paper-thin, arraying himself just so. The bad man couldn't crush him if he was already flat. Perhaps the badman would think that he had died, that these were his remains, his blood. He pooled across the width of the hallway, positioning himself below the badman where he clung to the ceiling.
YOU WILL NOT HURT FATHER. His voice was a screech of metal on metal, the feeling of nails on a chalkboard reverberating inside the badman's skull. As he spoke he lunged up out of his puddle, forming less a body and more a gaping maw, wide as the hall, ink black and lined with row upon row of needle teeth. The form was more shadow than substance, but what substance he had he focused into those teeth, wanting them hard and sharp enough to pierce the badman's flesh.
---
Ari tucked himself down close against Sarkany's back as they ran past the conflict. He worried for the others but the pull was too strong, and he doubted he could help them anyway.
"There! That way!" His directions weren't necessary, but he voiced them all the same as they hurried down the corridor. Even without the pull of the Pact, Marchelute's bellowing roars echoed in the hallways.
Ari was already shoving himself off of Sarkany's back as they rushed into the laboratory - his descent aided by the other's shrugging motion. His leg threatened to buckle as it hit the floor, but he managed to stay standing. The wound had mostly closed already - it oozed a little as the inside knitted back together, but it wasn't life-threatening. It just hurt. He took in the room quickly - the man at the back, scrambling to run away, the machines and instruments, the table, the familiar form strapped down to the table. The hiss that escaped past his bared teeth was harsh, a growl rolling just behind it.
He was moving before he realized it, his gait a bit limping but still quick. He stood beside the table, beside the tortured body of his mate. His hands hovered over the ifrit, trembling and uncertain, then gently found a rest on an uninjured portion of Marchelute's left arm. He barely heard Sarkany, his head was full of pain and fear and anger, the erratic pulse of his mate's runes like a heartbeat in his mind.
Marchelute thrashed and his hands found their way to the ifrit's face, disregarding the hot smokey steam hissing past his muzzle. He stroked the man's cheek gently, flinching slightly when his fingers brushed the leather of the muzzle, and tried to get Marchelute to focus his eyes. "Hey... Hey... Marche? L-Love? Look at me. C-C'mon. We're here, we're gonna get you out of here..." He tried to keep the tremor from his voice, hot tears rolling down his cheek to spatter on the ifrit's scales. His fingers twitched, then slid down to fumble at the clasps of the muzzle. It needed to be off. And the collar. All of this. It needed to be gone.
Sarkany was back by the time he managed to get the muzzle off - he wanted so badly to rip it away, throw it as far as he could, but he forced himself to remain gentle despite the urge. Once the leather contraption was out of the way, he brought his hands back up to Marchelute's face, gently stroking again, brushing back his hair. "We-We're going to get all of this off of you, so-so don't hurt us, allright? Stay with me, okay?"
He didn't look up at Sarkany, although he did gesture just slightly with twitch of his ears and a small movement of his chin for Sarkany to start trying to undo his mate's arms. One of his hands slipped down from Marchelute's cheek, following his gaze as it twitched down to the collar. There must be a catch on it, or... some sort of locking mechanism... If he still had that dagger maybe he could somehow pry it open... although more likely it would slip and stab his mate in the throat. No, it was good that he had lost the weapon. There likely wasn't a key, but that blinking light... were there any computer consoles in the room? He didn't want to leave Marchelute's side to search.
"S-Sarkany?" He tore his eyes from the collar, from his mate, and looked up at the seraph as he tried to undo the cuffs. "One-One of these machines? Maybe it'll unlock this? Can you-Can you look? I-I can't..."
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Post by tsukikoko on Feb 15, 2018 18:08:00 GMT -6
[Viktoria shoulder barges the door that was thrown her way. She fully intended to return the door to sender, but upon seeing Taco in the way, she slams the door to the floor instead. Pushes past Taco, getting mentally weirded out by his lack of tangibility, then proceeds to try to help wrangle Hahn.]
Viktoria's eyes flashed with irritated rage as her bullets swung wide, richocheting in a manner impossible even if her aim had been off. It was as though they had been deflected. Before the feline could dwell on the situation much further, however, her weapon was suddenly wrenched from her hands by forces unseen. She snarled, her fangs glinting in the red light of the alarms and fixed her attention on the creature still affixed to the ceiling. She didn't know what it was, but given how her gun rocketed towards its tail, to be neatly plucked from the air, she was certain it had been the cause of the invisible force. She had just turned her thoughts to how she might combat such a creature, when the sound of shrieking metal reached her ears, even over the wailing klaxons. She turned, to be greeted by a large door, barreling down the corridor towards her.
Viktoria made no effort to dodge. There was neither time nor space to do so. Instead, she lowered her shoulder, shoving herself forwards into the improvised weapon to weather the brunt of it. As the door collided with her, a bone jarring amount of force shuddered through Viktoria's body, setting her brain alight with pain impulses and the promise of aching, if not a few torn muscles later.
She ignored it all.
With an almighty yell, the scarred feline pivoted with the door, transferring at least some of the force away from herself and preventing it knocking her off her feet. Rage began to flow, spurred on by the pain lancing up her side and the knowledge that these people had taken Marchelute, had no doubt tortured him further than the removed horn she had already seen. She fully intended to send the door straight on back to whatever freakish thing was still crawling around on the ceiling; to crush it like the vermin it was.
Taconin, however, reared up in her line of fire, his shadowy form suddenly spanning near the entire height and breadth of the corridor. Though her fury told her to continue her projectile on its trajectory, most of Viktoria's sense of self remained. She was still in control. The rage receeded a touch, forced back within herself to prevent the humanoid accidentally hurting one of her allies once again. Her muscles straining from the effort to do so at the last minute, the scarred feline slammed the door, not towards the doctor, but into the floor in front of herself with a hefty bang. She wasted no time. Not knowing the full extent of their foe's abilities, or how long before it would be able to attack again, Viktoria came charging towards Taconin and his adversary. "Taconin!" she barked out, hoping to get his attention so he could move out of her way. As it turned out, she didn't need for him to do even that. When her hand came to rest on what she assumed was his leg, rather than meeting resistance as she would expect from a normal body, she seemed to pass through him. Her mind reeled, unable to process what was happening, instinctively trying to retract itself from the situation.
That too, went ignored. If her mental capabilities could not handle the information put before them, she would simply not look at the cause of the issue.
The feline's gaze travelled upwards, glaring directly at the creature on the ceiling, while she continued to push her way though Taconin's apparently incorporeal form. It was not long before he was lunging, all fangs and lethal aggression. But were his fangs of as little substance as his body had been, would they even cause damage? Viktoria had no idea. What she did know, is he would at least be a distraction.
As soon as she passed through Taconin, the scarred feline leapt for the wall beside her, feet connecting with the smooth, hard surface and immediately pushing off once again. Her hand stretched out, covering the distance between floor and ceiling easily. Viktoria's aim was for the creature's body if possible, but the tail was closer, an easier target given the circumstances. Whatever she could get a hold of, if she could, she intended to wrap one, if not both arm's around it, perhaps even her own weapon. Their adversary was slim, while she was large, strong and heavy. If her own weight didn't drag it down to the floor, she would damn well force it. Where if she could not wrestle it beneath herself and pummel it into paste, as her wrath-tainted mind currently envisioned, at least Raine and Taconin might have an easier time finishing it off.
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Post by Pearl Dragon on Feb 17, 2018 20:50:52 GMT -6
[[OOC - Bruse is back with the group and trying to figure out what's going on, everything is cray-cray]]
The moment the creature's rage and agony thundered into Bruse's reaching mind, the other spirit bristled and darkened as if in reaction. The cacophony of thoughts from the other being abruptly cut off almost as quickly as it had begun, leaving Bruse half crouched and grumbling to the open air in a deep echo. Amidst his own rumblings, he began to notice a softer chain of thoughts filtering through to him, and he calmed himself to listen to them.
He saw a stairway, followed by long, dim hallways that would cut sharp corners. Flashes of men in white coats and doors, clear labels with markings he did could comprehend, but the shapes of the markings were remembered nonetheless. Past that, there was nothing more, and soon another round of gunfire erupted nearby, peppering the creature as its form was partially damaged by the bullets. The creature let out a cry, vanishing from sight and leaving Bruse to himself, alone in the space that was splattered with both human and alien's blood and gore.
He could still follow, but at this point, he was convinced he had gotten what he could from the strange creature. Turning, Bruse began to make his way towards the stairs, following the imagery that was fed into his mind by the other. The familiar hallways and turns blurred past him, some he even phased through out of impatience until he caught sight of the door with the clear labeled markings. L-1, L-2. As he came to a dead stop, he became aware of everything happening around him. He paused, and looked up at the being now on the ceiling. It was in a white coat, like the other scientist, but it had a shimmering glow to one eye that drew most of his attention. He did not move to attack, only to try and figure out what was going on. The temperature of the space he occupied also seemed to drop in an eerie chill that crept through the air that spread into the hallway. The others seemed especially distressed by whatever was going on, which only heightened Bruse's worry and anxiety. Only when he looked forward again did he notice Viktoria now launching herself from one wall to take a blow at the being on the ceiling.
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Post by Salandis on Feb 19, 2018 22:38:16 GMT -6
OOC: Raine stays flat to avoid the doors. He starts to realise that the whole installation is in an uproar, and begins to realise that their ways out are becoming… limited.]
As it turned out, dropping flat was a very good idea. Dropping and rolling, Raine looked up to see the blue flash of the pressure wave that occurred with the gunfire. He also saw what happened next: The gun flying into the doctors grasp, and the doors flying out. He rolled again, feeling the drop clip his (fortunately unwounded) shoulder. He even heard the clap of the door hitting Taconin, and the yelling crash of Viktoria. He kept rolling forward, passing under the Doctor as Taconin began to flow down the walls.
Coming to his feet in a crouch, he saw Taconin rise up as a terrible mouth, and Viktoria beyond. Peripherally he was aware of the alarm and flashing lights, and boot heels ringing through corridors beyond. The rage that had been running through his body abruptly started to succumb to the remembered cold logic of a soldier. Stealth was gone, this place was large, and this surgical strike of theirs was suddenly very open to being flanked and sealed. But his earlier assessment of the creature in the hall was still likely accurate: He was senior, possibly even the head of the laboratory work here. He was valuable.
“Alive!” He snapped out down the corridor, even as he readied his whip. “We need him Alive, or we won’t get out ourselves!” So saying the whip flicked out, aiming at the most serious threat he could perceive: The gun in the Doctor’s hands.
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Post by Marshmallow on Mar 27, 2018 20:57:29 GMT -6
In the laboratory...
To the ifrit subject lying on the table, everything was a haze. He was surrounded by a shuddering blur of motion and noise. Sedatives coursing in his blood tried to smother his consciousness, but the pulse of damaged magic combined with rushing adrenalin kept pulling him back. Sluggishly, his mind attempted to process the meaning behind the smells and sounds surrounding him. Blood was on the air. Hazy figures moved about to either side of him. Voices filtered in, familiar but too garbled to understand. Pain throbbed across his damaged brand, lanced through his skull and down his arm, setting his nerves on edge and giving his rage a feral tinge. He struggled like a trapped animal, a threatening growl rumbling constantly in his throat.
But amid the disorienting fog of sensation and sound, there was a soothing constant, one that grew stronger as the gentle touch came to rest on his cheek. The pull of the Pact, that invisible tether that ensured the two could always find each other, and the familiar scent of his mate gradually calmed Marchelute's panic and fury. Straining to listen, he caught only clips of the other's words. 'Look at me...we're here, we... going to get... don't hurt... stay with...' The rest was lost as he peered up into the tear-streaked face of the leopard shifter and struggled to focus. His growls petered off into a pained animal moan, and his tugs on the restraints fell slack, allowing Sarkany to unlock the cuffs without fear of a mindless counterattack.
Once the pressure around his limbs vanished, and the muzzle had been tossed away, Marchelute laboriously pushed himself upright and slid off of the examination table. He could not get out of this room quickly enough. Unfortunately for him, the world lurched and spun dizzyingly from the sudden movement. Despite the rush of adrenalin that had first woken him from the drug haze, he was still unsteady, and crumpled against the table. Claws shrieked across the metal surface with the effort to hold himself upright as his knees buckled.
He planted the knuckles of both wings against the floor for support. Though still limited in their mobility by the clamps keeping the digits tightly folded, they were still useful for this at the least. Once he was relatively stable, Marchelute immediately reached out with his undamaged arm and pulled Ari into a tight hug.
-----
In the hallway...
Things were looking bad. There were too many enemies than Hahn was comfortable engaging in such a cramped space. He only had so many options to maneuver, and all too soon he found his escape routes being cut off. The feline was quick and strong, clearly well-trained. The human was simply much too durable, and the shadow-thing was proving to be something beyond just resilient. But he was well past being fascinated by any of them. His curiosity was waning, now he was just frustrated and - though it scathed him to admit it - somewhat worried. He was at an alarming disadvantage even with his telekinesis. Worse yet, something new and huge loomed into the view of his spectral eye at the end of the hall. Another enemy, given his luck.
He snapped out of the thought when the shadow thing stretched itself out beneath him, and he scuttled backwards along the ceiling just in time to avoid the first snap of its massive, crocodilian jaws. Unfortunately for him, the evasive maneuver simultaneously placed him in the trajectory of the leaping feline-creature. Hahn was flexible and fast, but the synchronized attacks left him without enough time to physically dodge both the shadow-beast and the humanoid. Time seemed almost to slow as he realized he could not evade them.
With almost no time to react, he did the only thing a rational mind could do in that situation: he got rid of the gun. In the fractions of seconds before he was to be grappled from the ceiling, the aura of his telekinesis wrapped the weapon and relieved it of its magazine. As the hulking feline's arms clamped around his wiry frame, the gun and its ammunition were simultaneously thrown to opposite ends of the long corridor. If they meant to kill him, then he would not allow them the ease of a bullet; and perhaps in the time taken to recover the rifle, he could find another means to escape.
Time resumed its normal flow just as he had the breath knocked out of him. Strong arms wrapped around his middle, and the heavy weight of the grey-skinned humanoid was more than a match for his surface grip on the ceiling. He was pulled free with ease, and found himself trapped and grappled by the larger humanoid.
At first, he struggled. His lithe body twisted and flailed, and Viktoria would find that holding him was more akin to trying to wrangle a bundle of agitated snakes than a single man. He was slippery, flexible, and though the claws on his toes were short, they were surprisingly sharp as he kicked at her.
It was a short-lived fight. He was no match for the feline's sheer strength, and in the struggle he found two of his arms pinned, and his stinging tail painfully wrenched and twisted. Unable to get an angle to use his venom, unable to wriggle free, he simply gave up and sagged bonelessly in her grip. If he could not fight, perhaps he could bargain; they clearly were here for something, and he had suspicions as to what.
"Stop, please- I yield!" the doctor declared, curling his tails in submission and raising his free arm in clear surrender. "I gif up! Please - I vas only follovink orders. I vill do vatefer you vant, just please do not kill me!"
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