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  1. amenities

    The Cost of Victory

    The Roseus had certainly not just shifted away from Michael’s hand, he thought. Upon reaching for it again and missing, however, Commager came to a full stop. Confusion frozen on his furrowed brow, he made a faster snatching motion for the crystal. When it leapt off the tray and hovered in the air, he paused again. This time, instead of trying to reach for it, he decided something must have happened that he could recall but wasn’t doing just yet. After a second of in-space staring, he made a few more hasty attempts at grabbing the RO. It bobbed up, down, and left as his bandaged arms swept with aggravation through its airspace. "This must be a dream.” When it spoke most realistically though, its humming vibrance pushed him back into the metal headboard with surprise. The red glow reflecting in his eye, its voice, they were so lifelike. "You do remember don't you?" He reached into the far recess of his consciousness, proverbial fingertips grazing the subconscious, until a single word came to mind. “Victory?” he said, rubbing his head again. This was certainly no dream. Fragments of the night before flashed through his head. Victory was an Ai. That much was actually clear through her interaction, but something in the way she interacted set her apart from the manufactured AI he’d seen so far. She moved with the very expression of her words and carried her own speech patterns. “Wait,” Michal’s heartrate had been slowing as he observed her, but she would sense it speeding up as he processed her words. “What do you know about my biometrics?” His voice trod the line between curiosity and incredulity.
  2. amenities


    For days following the departure of Legion of Doomers, the cries of the wicked echoed from a military settlement north of Last Chance. Mingled with them were the sounds of every bit of malice the thorns of Terrenus had to offer. Chief administerer of one of these interrogation wings was Michael Commager. As tirelessly as he had fought for the safety of Last Chance, he continued to fight in sweat lodges of prison cells with his tied up quarries. Limbs, so many little limbs progressing to larger limbs, had mounted in that room in a pool of bodily fluids along with intel about Dredge and his methods. The Bastion would leave horridly reeking chambers with hair matting his face, and an attendant would approach. “Sir, there is someone looking for you—” But Michael never knew just who might take an interest in such an unholy animal as himself, and so each time he would return to the room without heeding the invitation. He had saved much of his aggression on the battlefield for Dredge, and for that he regretted so much death. He was determined to reconcile himself in the settlement, and by eradicating the reason he’d been activated here. There would be retribution, and he was steadfast in his resolve that it was divine. So much horror had he personally rained down in the last seven days. So much pain, by just these hands at which he stared as tents came down around him and men packed locked-shut bags into ground transports. They were all concerned with packing the bags tight and making sure every nut and bolt was accounted for. In order to escape the surreal evil that had driven his every action in the week past, all he could let himself think about was how it was going to rain soon. All of the world must just be a mass of muscle sore from exasperation to the point of near death, thought Michael, with his heart as the standard. Standing as a ghost while the military world passed him by, all aware what the broken stare was implicit of, Michael fought back the urge to cry again. So much pain, by just these hands. Looking up, the ghost saw Shani, graceful hand moving through a captivating field of hair. She was an angel to him amid a hell of devils, and before he had time to catch up mind with body, he was standing before her and holding her hand in both of his. The firm grip that held it was warm and soft beneath the callous, and the tears of regret he’d fought back brimmed now with joy. His lips were moving and he still had no idea what to say. “I- I couldn’t.. I..” he stammered, his eye pointing in the direction of her missing appendage. “Are you okay?”
  3. amenities

    The Cost of Victory

    What drives most attacks against any well-supplied city in Terrenus is often the desire for power or resources. What drives a successful attack against these cities is an understanding of the foe you’re going up against. In the lull between these attacks, though, when an attacker or defender enjoys majority reign over an area— within this lull is the sweet safety to pursue their dreams that the civilians demand most largely. And safety demands victory over the attackers. Victory demands a price. The port kingdom of Last Chance had taken some hits in recent weeks to pay the price for its safety. Indeed the safety of the city and its denizens had come at the cost of many lives, but the sun rose the next day and with it rose the city. In an encampment north of there were held interrogations for days and weeks that worked to varying degrees of avail. The wet of war in soldiers’ socks could not be washed away until the encampment was swept up. The encampment could not be swept up until interrogations in encampment bunkers were completed. After the encampment was finally taken care of, individuals deemed to be in possession of sufficient intelligence from the Legion were transported in a heavily guarded caravan straight north to Hell’s Gate, where more intensive and extensive questioning could take place. With that caravan went Peacekeeper No. 5. All the walking had crumbled the dirt from his shoes, but he wore the same muddied blouse he’d pummeled his enemies with. The pampered suits inside would find him a grim reminder of what the field was like. When he arrived in Hell’s Gate he absconded from the ensemble and made his lone way for a towering behemoth of a building that represented Terran military might in Hell’s Gate. Grass sifted with the overcast breeze sweeping the courtyard at the building’s foot. Michael’s face turned upward as he drew the cool scent of rain, following the building’s face all the way up to its crown of clouds. Entering the building’s foyer, his boots tapped mutedly against white tiles. All he knew was that he was to debrief his fellow officers and superiors on the situation. He had brought with him an encrypted dossier crystal to elaborate on any observations whose sharpness may dull en route. His thick soles led him up the stairs to a fluorescent mezzanine punctuated in the middle by a U-shaped desk. This morning was his third day awake; he couldn’t sleep with fresh details and plans of action clacking through his head like a turnstile at rush hour. The receptionist would see it in the accordioned skin beneath his eyes. “Commager for 0600.” The receptionist looked up from her work and procured a clear crystal in her palm. It rose to Michael's human and gem eye level. A conical ray of light extended from one of its facets, illuminating his scarred face to perform a series of retinal, magical, and physiological scans to verify his identity. "Room B30," she responded. Behind closed doors Michael explained the failed attempt on Last Chance by a villain named Dredge and submitted a request to take liberty on chasing him down. He outlined several outliers who played critical roles in the defense and attacking of the city, naming names and all for which they were responsible indiscriminately, factually. Afterward he was taken aside by a scientist he had never met before. There was a conversation about artificial intelligence, Michael vaguely remembered, but this is where his memory became somewhat fuzzy... Waking up in a comfortable bed in a warmly lit room alone, Michael shot into a sitting position. Wheeling on the suddenly disheveled axis in his brain, he brought a palm to his dizzied head. Where the Roseus Oculus- the red gem that dealt death from his eye socket- used to be, there were now bands of gauze diagonally draped over his head. He could feel a healing spell augmenting the recovery of an optical organ beneath that he hadn't had for almost ten years. Tiny sinews stitched a human eye together, stretching over and retrograding the scar tissue that once served cradle to the RO. He looked at the waffle-pattern blanket in his lap and flexed his fingers. He felt... angry. Looking to his right at the bedside table, however, shifted his mood entirely. There sat the Roseus Oculus. At least, what used to be the Roseus Oculus.
  4. amenities

    Two If By Sea (Last Chance Raid OOC)

    PM me or we'll chat in discord, then the agreed upon spoils can be alluded to in this thread's canonization and auxiliary threads or mentions where your character actually acquires the spoils can happen at any point.
  5. amenities

    Two If By Sea (Last Chance Raid OOC)

    You are waiting on a closing post from Dredge and then myself. You can consider the Last Chance Raid over in terms of any time constraints that may apply to your character, we're just organizing final logistics.
  6. amenities

    Updates to Aspyn - a new setting!

    It was @KittyvonCupcake's idea, she was a whole jump ahead!
  7. amenities

    Updates to Aspyn - a new setting!

    That, sir, is what I am planning in the B|E hub
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    Two If By Sea (Last Chance Raid OOC)

    Well! First I want to say that everyone did a great job. All things considered, there was relatively little bickering and whatever there was got resolved in good time. I like that everybody was able to come together on a story instead of letting competition get the best of them and, in turn, the thread. I'm also a fan of the fact that this ramped down pretty naturally, which brings up my second point. This post is notice that we close the IC thread and review for canonization on Monday, so if you want to reach a certain conclusion with your character that you have not yet, this weekend is your chance.
  9. amenities

    Two if by Sea (Last Chance Raid)

    Team: @Aleksei @Fierach Not Team: @Dredge @Grubbistch @Zashiii @PurplePanda @Dolor Aeternum Barrett’s fate seemed like such a brittle thing these days. First he, untrained as a double agent, had been thrown undercover with the people who had done this to Last Chance. Second, he had to stay with them for what felt like months. Lastly, he now found himself spiraling toward the hungry jaws of a four-legged Legion creature. It’s four lips sprawled open like a green gentian. Barrett’s short life flashed before his eyes before his a steadfast military will to survive took over. He began gathering up the slime in his hands to try and smack the thing’s mouth shut. Like a ball of energy it gathered, growing in his grasp. His bulbous eyes widened — he wasn’t going to make it. The monster lunged for him, mace of a tail flicking with effort exerted. Barrett reeled his hand back to punch it in the jaw with his adhesive goo, positive he was about to get eaten, when seven spyres of fire impaled the beast from the side, flexing its body around them as it howled and fell to the ground. Michael’s blow had been positioned just so that he missed Dredge’s decision to flick Barrett and Shanti to the side. He would never know it had been his duty to save them, but he already knew who he would pick any day of the week. Barrett had agreed to live and die for Terrenus, and Shanti was but an innocent bystander who had cast herself in danger’s way for a country she wasn’t even beholden to. She was much more than that, he suspected, but like so many blades of grass in the wind he would let their future billow. Such was the fate of a man who thought himself the mouthpiece of Gaia’s will and wrath. Instead of that recognition extended from Michael a coning efflux of red, white, and black, the blinding funeral pyre to the Legion’s assault on Last Chance. Dredge positioned himself so that he was sent on a rocketing path for the ports, but even as he smoked through the sky Officer Vance directed gunfire for the flying figure so that a base of 16 men around him opened up with beams of superheated plasma. When the evil knight’s body was obscured by the swaths of his men, Vance’s fire focused on the retreating squads between them. Chips and chinks would be removed from his armor by the barrage, but nothing so significant as Michael’s attacks. “Detain living enemies and take them to the military detention facility for questioning North of Last Chance. Also, that was a lot of magic. Somebody head Lt. Commager’s way,” said Vance, pushing up silver rimmed glasses and pointing in the direction of the cone of light still blinking in peoples’ corneas from the Peacekeeper’s location. Michael fell from ten feet in the air, watching Dredge become a small thing in the distance. Hot air whipped against his face, but the feeling was simply divine. His knees hit the ground, then his hands. He felt there that Valucre had yet to cease its quivering, anxious to fold its arms around victors and damned alike. Exhaling brought to his attention just how badly he’d needed to breathe. Air entered his lungs in vicious gulps as acrid smoke washed over him. He leaned back, sitting on heels as Terrans pushed a line of Legion away from him and the medical tents some meters ahead, and saw the ruin that had come of southern bits of Last Chance. More than the Northern half of Last Chance had kept largely safe, housing evacuated from the Southern hemisphere. Still though, that lower half of the city simmered like a skillet of charred peace. He wanted to scream, roar, tell the Legion to go fuck themselves, hug every soul he had failed to protect. The boy wanted to cry. But instead he stood. “Sir, are you okay!?” shouted the pointman of three Terrans emerging from the fray to help him stand. “Pyromancers on me. Alert sub squads that we’re about to need continuous recon on escapees.” His angry and hurt voice fizzled to life for the first time since he went for Dredge. It was standard policy to keep a detachment of pyromancers near Michael, as they were his preferred method of enemy obliteration. A line of elementals in red cloaks, the same who had saved Barrett, began gathering behind Michael. The air before them rippled with heat and, even as the afterimage of Michael’s explosive Dredge punch faded into the grey daylight, lines of flame gilded the entity mounting around the marching fire elementals and their commander. Regular Terran lines gave way to this immense force as the furnace of energy approached the tail end of retreating Legionnaires. Michael cast his hand to the side, extending his fingers, and the entire platoon of fire elementals burst into an unbridled fury of black and white flame. The incinerator force simply walked forth, culling impure masses with their very vicinity. Columns of flame shot at all forward angles from the force to lance without trouble through any stragglers. The daring who saw to attack this gathering came running with swords and spears. Swinging down, though, they would find their solid weapons met with a quite solid heat. Blades clashed against white licks of flame the same as they would steel, the spirit fire emanating from Michael emboldening and affirming their heat’s presence as a ravenous weapon. Feurer, with a whirlwind of blades and fire belonging to himself, might have thought himself a match for such awesome might, but he would quickly be reminded by mundane gunfire and the masses of physically battling troops that forces of great and innumerable strength had culminated expressly for the outcome occurring now. This had become a full rout of the outbound enemies. The white blood cells had assembled and the virus was being driven out so that Last Chance could coagulate and Terrenus could begin healing its wound. Metallugrists and wild animal experts had taken to the field to subdue immobilized war beasts and steel knights. Golems chased the fearful evil scattered by the Terrans, trying to cut off escape before it could be achieved. One of them reached for Evanjalin to collect her if possible. Another such detachment composed of a geomancer, a pyromancer, and three Terran soldiers, approached Mayumi and Middy. “You there! Freeze!” one of them shouted as he raised his weapon from twenty feet away. They were all prepared for the worst. “Who are you with?” In a separate incident, there was a checker-eyed slimeball sawing off limbs and humming too jolly of a tune. A different detachment approached this one, just four soldiers armed with swords and plasma rifles. "Hey you, go on get," said one of them. The goal here was just to clear out mysterious entities and create a perimeter around the prison and damaged city quadrants. This soldier, while aiming his rifle, would only shoot if Chex did not respond or did so unsatisfactorily. Meanwhile, Terran scouts had homed in on an entity just standing there. A psion assigned to watching him had intercepted a message meant for Dredge, approaching through the throngs of people who were moving along to safety and a hopefully path back to normalcy. She approached Agony with a finger on the comm crystal in here ear. All scout channels would hear her. "Attention. Who are you?" she said. While she had been able to home in on his energy signature with the help of others, she wasn't confident she could take him if he ended up being hostile. She was a newly promoted corporal and honestly hoped he would just run away.
  10. amenities

    Updates to Aspyn - a new setting!

    Speaking of Aspyn things! @KittyvonCupcake thanks for the tag! I'll have a post up in B|E hub soon.
  11. Newish anyway. Greetings friends, I come bearing lore for one of the most up-and-coming territories in Terrenus! "What about it," you ask? It's obvious! Aspyn has taken on quite a shine in the eyes of Terrans fleeing from the travesties of the Terran civil war. It offers A degree of safety and tranquility paralleled by few others for its nearness to the Gaian clergy and Terran military; and for that, An environment of economic and social wealth largely buffered from danger and free for perusal, entrepreneurship and adventure. Races of all sorts who get along, having come to enjoy safety from war and prejudice. So come! Learn about Aspyn's blessed fruits and the cursed Bi'le'ah nearby. PM me or post here when a mission strikes your fancy or you have a bright story idea of your own 😄
  12. amenities

    Two If By Sea (Last Chance Raid OOC)

    It's as easy as one-two just two.
  13. amenities

    Two if by Sea (Last Chance Raid)

    Team: @Aleksei @SweetCyanide @Old Man Jean Not Team: @Dredge @Zashiii @roboblu In war, there is no true victory. Last Chance was no exception. From an infrastructural standpoint, there is obviously extreme damage to port and city structures to consider. From a humanitarian perspective, lives lost had climbed into the thousands and assured further backlash on both sides. Whether the city of Last Chance had been saved here or not, a blow had been dealt to the morale of the people. All races were affected negatively, had lost homes and loved ones, and the vast majority determined on this day that they would react accordingly. There would be mourning, promotions, commendations, and stern talking tos doled out after this day. The sound of gunfire and steel shrieking against itself had taken on an undertone of frenzied retreat and spirited chase. Terran soldiers whooped and yah’ed their foes toward the ports, thinning the swarms the best they could along the way. Legion had fought hard, but their mass had begun moving to the port in a jauntily dying way. It was clear that their objective had either centralized around the prison, or that they had given up whatever else it was and were now making for the ships. Significant Terran defenses, both enlisted and contracted, were already waiting to eat up the fleeing Legionnaires. Remaining artillery on the western wall doused boats already taken by enemies with continuous fire as soon as they left port. Such vessels would survive the barrage, but they wouldn’t make it incredibly far without repairs. It appeared that, while some of Dredge’s forces were undivided in their endeavor to reach the port, a certain contingent of his force seemed set on fighting. "Capture anybody who's willing to go without a fight. Grind the rest to dust," said Officer Vance, the primary shareholder of Michael's orders when he was absent. Terran geomancers were ready for another round, and now prepared to cut this force off from those absconding from the shores that now cursed their very footsteps, surround them, and let the regular militiamen slaughter them wholesale. The Golem Sera had targeted would have its leg tangled up in its own net. The two remaining approached on sight of the incident, uploading a countermeasures package to deal with their own attacks being thrown back at them. One of the two Golems survived after they were smashed together by Evanjalin, shooting one anti-psion grenade and then one regular explosive. These projectiles were special, because they were released two seconds later so would detonate in mid-air behind Sera and Evanjalin. They would be powerful enough to hit Sera and Evanjalin with a wall of sound and force that would knock them forward just after Itylra’s bullet found home. If the two fell, Itylra would be near enough by to move in along with a handful of other soldiers while the debris still settled and the psion blocker was still active. Two of the five soldiers were earth elementals who would promptly cause two arms of earth to reach in hopes to grab the ankles of the villains. Itylra would find herself presented with another opportunity to serve her country. Whether it came in the direct form of killing the devil or not. For she would come to understand through valor like this; similar to a wise proverb from galaxies far far away, that even those who see farther and look taller only do so by standing on the shoulders of giants. The ports, swarming with militants both face and heel, presented a closing window of opportunity for the men and monsters growing farther from the Legion’s main forces, hence a clear choice presented itself: Leave or Die. Michael didn’t know it, never looking back at what wretched magic Dredge had called upon, but he had found himself a good Samaritan. All he saw as he struck Dredge the first time with his right hand was the villain’s own right hand reach out, and the same magic that had sent him flying coursing through it to shoot somewhere behind him. He didn’t need to look back to know the clever ways in which a serpent struck. Had he looked back he would have seen Ramsey, and promptly begun screaming for him not to get thrown. The sheer, stupid courage might earn Ramsey some gratitude later on. The only thing Commager was aware of was the fact that, instead of hugging him, Dredge had decided to attack his blood-forged brother in arms and a beautiful woman to whom he owed his very life. His portion of the battle had long been confined to mitigating the threat that was the sith lord. Occupying him, containing him, and killing him if possible were the prime objectives. Michael couldn’t fathom anything in the world worth protecting harder than the people Dredge’s arm reached for now, and he still had all the explosive power he could muster in his left hand to protect it with. “I won’t let you take” The piece of faceplate scattered like dust in the wind, showing the evildoer’s true face as he stretched his arm forward for Shanti and Barrett. The Peacekeeper lunged another step forward and aimed to plant the power of the sun on Dredge’s eyeball with his knuckles. Michael was inside the black knight’s arm reach, all he had to do was angle up with the 2 of his 1-2 punch. Upon impact, or in the event of Dredge’s backing away to escape, the explosive energy that had gathered in Commager’s hand discharged like a T-14 Armata. Commager wanted to blow that son of a bitch as far away from here as possible, all the way toward where a Germanic knight and his cronies trudged a path to escape. “ANYTHING ELSE!”
  14. amenities

    The Shell of Great Sins

    Audience members were quickly folded into Jonothon’s performance. It was haunting, beautiful, visceral. The amalgam of noises that were all at once sonorous, vibrant, and whistling called to mind knives sliding against one another and the tearing of flesh. Indeed it was hostile music, and even though the viewers were enthralled with Oaxaki’s performance, the multitudinous colors dancing across the hall’s faces made it appear as if all were leering upon the Choisel coven in wait of what it was for which they searched. The excited albeit surface twinkle in May’s eye registered a bit of surprise when Leinhart suggested they take the conversation elsewhere. Her gaze never probed anywhere else, just rested on the Choisel leader intently. There would be a pause in response to his request, as if she were to say “are you sure?” But after a few seconds she looked around at the drinks of the others, breaking the suspense. “Of course! I’ll lead you to another suite where you can get more comfortable.” She grabbed her goblet of stygian liquid and beckoned them follow her to a recess in the wall. It looked like a doorway, but there had never been a frame to it- just a rectangular hole in the wall. The corridor into which it led did not take them upward or loop back to the stage at all, but downward. The temperature around them grew dank, and the smell of mildew and blood filled their nostrils. The Hall grew further away as they traversed a torchlit underground tunnel toward more insidious parts of the city. After the immense sound of Oaxaki died away and all that accompanied them was the ragged-winged vampire of renown in Tia, May, she talked. “So.” She repeated once more, not looking back, her voice bouncing once or twice off the walls around them before falling to an annoyed flat. It was no longer the sweet voice of there hostess, but a cold one of petulance as if a spell of cordiality formerly cast on her had worn off. “What does your coven want with the Benefactor?”
  15. amenities

    Two if by Sea (Last Chance Raid)

    Team: Terrans, Shanti @Aleksei Not team: Legion @Dredge @roboblu "Net her, she's a high-priority target!" Said one of the Terran officers tracking Envajalin as she fell to the ground. The mechanical Golem extended its arm, a net the width and length of a king-sized mattress shooting out to cover Evanjalin. If successful, sixteen orbs on the fringes of the net would magnetize together as the Golem approached her. Shanti would see the black eclipse of Dredge and smaller Michael’s blades glancing against and gliding off one anothers’; being driven into the dirt or pushed away to slash the air in a whorl of wind. Despite his infection with dark energy, his tireless movements were as blurs through the air and the counter-insidious glare in both eyes traced a continuous and cold intelligence. Peachy Keen, the blade of light energy that dueled with Dredge’s bearing a contorted face spewing molten earth from an unknown dimension came as a sentient being to its master in his times of plight. He had toiled and overcome much to forge his starlight saber, and with the new conviction of righting the wrongs he beheld firsthand, he didn’t need a medium to do battle with the dark lord. The black aura streaming from a Stalwart Crystal shrouded his hand, its movements an ominous mystery even as it grasped the bar of unquestionable light. ”YES!! THAT’S IT!! Strike me down with you hatred!! Do it!! I know you want it!!” The knight backed away from Michael and dropped his sword even with the boy continuing forward after him, evil afterimage of Dredge in tow. Michael’s light and the trials that had created it, however, were not to be trifled with. Yes, he had his demons indeed; and he kept them too. The evil shadow of Dredge was not alone in the heart of Michael Commager. It would see the image of a more Faustian devil. One who was both the man’s mentor as a boy and another intergalactic being with fitting experience was forever a demonic part of Michael that goaded to be something closer to Dredge. By those same means as it had once successfully goaded him, however, it now remained in his head a defense against attacks like it. So it was that the afterimage of Dredge would sense the arch evildoer of old, Faustus Clemens, in Michael’s head behind him. “This is a sealed safe, little lord,” said the ghastly afterimage of a suited entity who had gone by many names. All of them entailing great magnitude in the ears of Valucre’s learned and cautious. It was calm and clammy, its fingers sliding along Dredge's back even where he stood before Michael. It was as a former trial and a symbol of his resistance, and it appeared to desire lingering with the real Dredge. “You won’t find anything like what you’re looking for here. See, the boy carries a hate for the wicked like you and me." Shanti's light spread across Michael's skin as aura channeled through her blood, speeding up the deterioration of both figures behind the Peacekeeper. "His hatred of what he deems evil has found him favor with the light. It backs his every punch. This hatred you're looking for, it's all around you right here. But when you and I die, there's nothing left to hate—" The surreal warmth that crawled over Commager’s body augmented his purification and separated him from the toil being wrought within him. As Michael had paced forward with the backing up Dredge, it would be fortunate for the knight if he managed to hold onto his blade instead of releasing it entirely, as by his own and Shanti’s light both images of darkness were cast from his head. The Bastion's feet left the ground and his sword dispelled. For someone sure enough of his ability to manipulate someone's mind to drop his sword, Dredge might be surprised that Michael— a boy forged in the very envelopment of darkness who had long severed such ties by his own unwaveringly righteous laboriousness— had never held up in the least. His left hand gathered explosive energy to deflect Dredge’s arm in the likely event that he went to hug his smaller foe, and the Peacekeeper’s clawed hand shrouded in blackness lashed out to smack the charcoal faceplate of the evil commander. Whether or not the Wielder could kill Dredge on this day, he would leave a signature to remember him by. Something for all of those whose suffering he had not seen, and for all those whose suffering he had held in his very arms. “It’s just break-down magic!” If he managed to smack the destroyer, at least a chunk of helmet would be the sacrifice. The jab may even be enough to expose some of that dusty old face, or actually turn it into dust. Meanwhile, Barrett had secured enough of the goo to Shanti's arm that the bleeding had stopped. A cooling sensation battled against what must be a searing horror as he whistled. His vibration bending allowed it to carry to the ears of nearby healers, who were familiar with Barrett's call and came to help the two get away and begin an actual cycle of healing on her wound. The battle had incinerated much of the beach, a blackened and jagged char. Still though, legions fought one another and overhead intermingled dragons, large machines of war, and ghost ships whose sights and productions were visible across half of Terrenus and followed by news worldwide. Lieutenants of the dark ones led them toward the ports. In tandem with reports of this progress were feeds notifying the greater Terran military leadership that high priority prisoners had been breached from the prison's deeper confines. It seemed that all three forces aimed to converge at the ports to make a probable getaway. Friendly forces still assembled en masse in accordance with directives aimed at minimizing widespread city damage and centralizing that which already existed, but the army of villains moved on precise plans.