Ruins of Khazan - Part 1: All Things Among Fallen Leaves

[Sharpandpointies]

"I"m fine!" Krys gasps in reply to Nemo.

They're not.

But Nemo has already burned one of their enemies down, finishing the job with a length of metal. A query follows, and Krys shakes their head. "They refused. We're fighting to save ourselves and our friends." Her lips tighten. "So that's the plan -" And Nemo is moving, attacking in conjunction with Rae and her curious magic. "Survive!" Krys shouts after her, just as the mutated leader slides into the fray. Orders are shouted in his lugubrious voice, and then -

- they feel it again, the energies from before, only a shadow of its immensity but strong, so strong -

- the world goes mad.

The ground becomes soup - or perhaps stew, thicker and noxiously fragrant - but roiling with waves. Nemo is struck - hard, too hard - as the shockwave passes through the liquified material the world has become, and then the carousel itself is catapulted into the air, beginning its fall as the tide looms over Krys as well. All things in their proper order, consequences following actions, forces propagating in specific fashion, all bounded by entropy.

Unlike Krys.

To her senses the world is a ringing, crystalline palace, its waves washing back and forth across one another. Nemo is a mesh of energies - surely Rae would appreciate that metaphor - whose form is disrupted. The energies and waveforms comprising Kinu's familiar are guttering. Another pattern - decaying, but flaring its own waves out to join with others - slams into the mountain of the building. And Krys senses the threats to their own pattern, approaching from twin directions. Either of them will be enough to break their body. To alter it in the most detrimental fashion. To force a change upon it that it cannot easily withstand.

But is that not the way of things?

Everything, Krys considers as they study the near-frozen scene from an infinity of angles, is change. The web of reality moves, shifts through its constant flux, a never-ending, ceaseless pattern of tides. Nothing is truly solid, or eternal; all is merely energy patterns that currently hold a specific form. And yet shift, constantly, even if only in the most minute of fashions. And as Krys has found, those shifts can seemingly be halted. Postponed. Or reversed. All through the denial of entropy and linear time.

But that change can be deferred.

Krys cannot easily replicate their brief instance of Time out of Time; such is beyond them at the moment. But...they can focus. They can see themselves as they saw Nemo, only moments before - taking on a fourth dimension, stretching along an axis unseeable to entropic beings, the axis some might consider to be Time, those moments of themselves, those slices of entropy that make up the totality of Krys, stretching 'back' and away to vanish Outside All Things, and forward, forward to...

...an endpoint.

Their lips quirk. Well...I already knew that.

But now they focus, reaching in some existential fashion into that axis, further than with Nemo. This is no encouragement of this slice of Krys to take on the pattern of that slice; this is a bringing together, a concentrating of a length of that axis into a single slice. With that, Krys' time overlays upon itself, and in some bizarre fashion they seem to gain mass. Density. Some indefinable solidity, brought about by so many moments, slices of Krys layered onto one, becoming a bright spear impaling the universe, held in place by its own existential mass, fixed and unbreakable.

Force can impart change, Krys muses again as the wave roars down upon them, as the carousel begins its arc towards crushing them, but one can choose to withstand it.

The stormfront piles over them, but they are solid now in a way that defies description; it tears at them, buffets them, but they hold. The carousel falls, its mass considerable, but Krys turns their gaze up, sees the points of subdivision, instinctively understanding the necessary forces. They gather themselves as it crashes down upon them, their hands rising to their shoulders, body sinking, compressing, not crouching but still standing...and an instant before impact, their hands stab upward as their body straightens.

The spear impaling the universe has reversed; now it is a grounded pike.

Metal screams and shrieks as Krys' fingers - dense and hard with the overlay of 'past' and 'future' Krys - bite through it, driven by the perfectly timed force of their body. Metal scrapes along the coat, it's own materials benefiting from the fourth dimensional compression, along their arms and over their shoulders, something striking the back of the head harmlessly, and they're through, standing like a diver, hands above them to form a point as the shattered carousel thunders into the swamp surrounding them.

It’s a massive, broken impact literally all around her; but Krys remains steady and rooted, faint pains running through the cracked vessel of her body, their hands slowly lowering to dangle at their sides.

[Nik Hasta]

Like her hellhound, Kinu manages dodge the oncoming wave but, similar to the acrobatic member of the people they are notionally defending, she too feels the noxious gases and slime cause her limbs to feel heavy and immobile.

As the rumbling dies away and the terrain settles into its new swampy configuration, the Commander looks over his handiwork; the devastated the garden and sticky mud flung in all directions, staining the white marble walls of the building. He raises the firearm that is a bright shiny chrome, several large tubes wrapping around his arm and plugging into his body, and points it at his molten ally. Once more, a stream of toxic ooze sprays into the flowing figure and the it writhes in a way that describes pleasure and seems more fortified than before.

Finally, he angles his aim up toward the top of the building to the sniper's nest where the woman with the large crossbow sits and hoses down the window she is sat in with toxic slime. She pulls back sharply and vanishes from view, apparently unhurt but clearly driven from her sniping position.

Muffled as it comes from deep inside the building, there is a series of loud bangs and crashes. Like a fist striking something with intense force but none of the party are present to see it.

- Kinu it is now your turn, along with Cassa and your hellhound. Please report to the Combat Notation Thread

[grampagen]

As Kinu shapes her weapon, she sees Cassa reach out a hand toward the Hellhound, intoning; "Instructions received, [RECOVERY_PROTOCOL] engaged," The hand shivers and then bursts with a soft pop and the parts float in the air for an instant before splitting into small trails of smoking dust that surge into the wounds of the small demon.

The Hellhound looks nervous and rears back slightly as its body is invaded but the effect is transmitted. Kinu sees the wounds, still bloody and open, start to knit themselves together and close up. The hound lets out a small bark of joy as the pain it has been suffering is lessened.

- Small Hellhound gains 30 HP and 10 temp HP from Regeneration

"Proceeding to hostile actions," Cassa whirred quietly and the hand that had burst regrows with a slightly wet hiss. The hand then expands and takes on the form of the plasma cannon which the automaton levels at one of the brute-ish creatures Kinu had instructed it to target. Still woozy from the effects of Jane's necrotic energy attack, it is struck squarely by a bolt of bright plasma.

- Tire Brute 1 has taken 28 DMG and is inflicted with Disrupt

Kinu is already in motion as the bolt strikes true and presses her advantage, swinging the jury-rigged weapon in a tight arc at the same target. It collides with a wet thunk that lifts the creature off its feet and sends it slamming into its fellows, causing the three of them to collapse into a confused pile of stinking artificial flesh.

- Tire Brute 1 has taken 17 DMG and is knocked Prone. Tire Brute 2 and Brute Wrangler have also been knocked Prone.

Finally, letting out barks of battle, the Hellhound scampers a small way behind Kinu, leaps into the air and vomits forth a bolt of hellish flames that strikes the smaller figure trying to extract itself from the pile, the resulting explosion flattening it against the ground with a squealing cry.

- Brute Wrangler takes 27 DMG, is Cratered and remains Prone

Her makeshift weapon having bent at a right-angle and her internal energies surging to fortify herself for the combat ahead, Kinu gets the sense that while their attack strategy had paid off, the sensation she had gotten when hitting these tire men was that of impressive density. They took the hit about as well as she would have. Maybe direct brute force wasn't going to be the most effective measure with these large opponents.

Cassa may have looked like a jagged, sandy rustbucket, that could barely keep its shape together...but even Kinu had to admit, this unit had some serious moves.

When it let loose with the lightshow and hit the brute dead-on, her split smile wept from the corners of her mouth, then the pallid surface displaced further as her expression stretched ravenously. Yet when she'd swatted the lug upside the head with that heap of iron, she felt it from where her fingers dug into the metal.

This thing broke before his face did...

Kinked and frayed at the sight of impact, she cast the twisted bench aside. Whether it was taking down wild game or putting a Wildling chieftan in their place, certainly she'd been no stranger in getting her hands dirty. If they got up seven times, she would bring her hand down eight times, and stiffer than before, 'till they either yielded or were tenderized. But this rubber man, stinking like the tires that ground their surfaces bald in the roads of the old world outside of the walls, wasn't made up of anything natural; her hands still trembled from the feedback.

Mighty stupid, this mound of a man-thing, and stupid tough. Plasma, fire, and brimstone seemed to leave way more of a mark-

The squat creature pulls itself out of the small crater, chattering indignantly. It aims a futile kick at the pair of larger creatures and slurs; "Get up you feckless worms!"

It fixes its gaze on Kinu and spits a wad of foul smelling wad of clear liquid from its large and rotten lips. Unable to react in time, Kinu is struck in the face by the goop. It doesn't burn or sting and she swiftly wipes it from her masked face. But her nose detects something, her limbs suddenly feel heavy and weaker - some kind of anesthetic? Chloroform?

Then the leader of the little stable pulled its ratty little face up. Kinu locked eyes with it briefly and then she caught it right in the face.

Her eyes clamped shut, and suddenly where there was a burning among the ruined hedges, there was only quiet. Then the grinding of teeth, then the sound of her porcelain cheek splitting.

She felt it weigh down her limbs, and sheer fury kept her moving. Slowly, she undid her coat, the gob staining the sleeve wet as she wiped it away and let it fall to the ground.

Then she fixed her burning, amber eyes on the Brute Handler, and pointed a fighter straight at him.

The Toxic Commander snarls, his temper clearly fraying as each of his men fall one after another. He turns to the squat handler of the Brutes and snarls, "Get those dozy lunkheads on their feet and fightin' right now!"

He moves swiftly, like some kind of oversize toxic snail. No legs to speak of but a sort of mushy, fleshy foot that leaves a sizzling trail of slime behind him. Despite his malformed nature, he swiftly takes position in the centre of the fray and raises a meaty and tumourous hand.

"Yer all under ARREST!" he yells and, the veins in his body surging and various pores letting out a thick miasma of smog, he slaps the ground. For an instant, before his flesh strikes the floor, Krys detects a version of that awesome energy that they had felt momentarily after their battle with the hellhounds, like something of this place is moving through him. There is no time to communicate this as his hand strikes the ground with a wet slap. There is a sudden wave as the ground all around him in a 50 foot radius is transformed into some kind of grasping and putrid swamp in a rolling shockwave that tosses objects into the air and threatens to knock all his opponents to the floor.

Nemo, still reeling from being attacked and slightly burnt by her molten foe has no time to take a defensive action and takes the full brunt of the blow.

- Nemo takes 80 DMG, is inflicted with Paralyse - Stiffen and is knocked Prone and is Cratered

As the carousel is buffeted and flung into the air, it starts to fall towards Krys who has but a moment to take some action to protect themself from both the attack of the Commander and the effects of his efforts.

- Krys, you have passed the HIT check and have defensive options. Please report to the Combat Notation Thread to resolve.

Across the gardens, Kinu sees a wave of dirt and stinking mud tearing apart what remained of the picturesque hedgerows and about to plough into her. She has just enough time to prepare her defences for impact.

- Kinu, you have passed the HIT check and have defensive options. Please report to the Combat Notation Thread to resolve.

Her dog wounded already, shows tremendous awareness and leaps into the wave and allows itself to be hurled into the air rather than resisting. It is buffeted and clearly hurt but lands with a splat in the odious mud on its feet and clearly inflicted with some kind of horrendous effect from the toxic slime but still breathing.

- Kinu's Hellhound Dodges takes 34 DMG from going into burnout and is inflicted with Paralyse - Stiffen

The mysterious automaton looks at the oncoming wave and fires the rudimentary jet boots it manifests for flight and shoots directly upward, dodging the entire wave and landing back on its feet with a splat. It seems none the worse for wear from the experience.

- Cassa has spent a total of 140 ENR through Dodging and mitigating the effects of the status effects

The agile member of the team inside the house, Lanky, effects a graceful leap and avoids the damage but lands in the mud and almost immediately falls onto one knee at the stench of it.

- Lanky has been infected with Paralyse - Stiffen

As the roar of the shockwave dies away, the burning car has been hurled away and slammed against the wall of the building. The carousel has been almost flipped over and comes close to crashing down

Then the shock of noise shifted through the air, carrying itself beneath her feet. When the torrent of filth wicked through her nostrils, by sheer instinct she moved, just managing to avoid the gnarled roots of the burning bushes as they passed with a great leap. When she made her landing, a wave of nausea wound its way through her guts. Wading knee-deep in the muck, it was blood-warm, and amid the dirt, something stuck to her in layers of thick, heavy clots.

But though she strained to keep her footing, breathing hard as she felt her muscles strain even to lift her head up, it was where the uprooted carousel that had fallen an exploded over where she last saw Krys standing that filled Kinu's eyes with flaring murder.

[grampagen]

Like her hellhound, Kinu manages dodge the oncoming wave but, similar to the acrobatic member of the people they are notionally defending, she too feels the noxious gases and slime cause her limbs to feel heavy and immobile.

As the rumbling dies away and the terrain settles into its new swampy configuration, the Commander looks over his handiwork; the devastated the garden and sticky mud flung in all directions, staining the white marble walls of the building. He raises the firearm that is a bright shiny chrome, several large tubes wrapping around his arm and plugging into his body, and points it at his molten ally. Once more, a stream of toxic ooze sprays into the flowing figure and the it writhes in a way that describes pleasure and seems more fortified than before.

Finally, he angles his aim up toward the top of the building to the sniper's nest where the woman with the large crossbow sits and hoses down the window she is sat in with toxic slime. She pulls back sharply and vanishes from view, apparently unhurt but clearly driven from her sniping position.

Muffled as it comes from deep inside the building, there is a series of loud bangs and crashes. Like a fist striking something with intense force but none of the party are present to see it.

- Kinu it is now your turn, along with Cassa and your hellhound. Please report to the Combat Notation Thread

The eruption of earth carried with it torrents of filth, and wherever the Commander's essence fell, the last bits of what stood about this square in the Eternal City was marked by his deisgn.

Kinu fell into a crouch. With every move, she felt the vile issue of this swamp harden to plaster where it layered upon her skin. Just trying to breathe was like scraping away at stone.

She should be so fortunate that she could still breathe. She could hear the whine of the Hellhound at her feet, as if it returned to the condition it had been found it when they'd finished the fight with it. Her eyes tracked where the eruption spat the carousel out, where it landed...

...and from where she could see, Krys hadn't made it out in time.

Wading through the mud, she continued to struggle against the slow petrification. The sonovabitch...he's right there...with his lil' chrome-plated piece sprayin' this toxic crap everywhere...when I get my hands on him...!!!

"Cassa!" She called out to the helper unit, "Assist me!"

[Nik Hasta]

Wading through the mud, she continued to struggle against the slow petrification. The sonovabitch...he's right there...with his lil' chrome-plated piece sprayin' this toxic crap everywhere...when I get my hands on him...!!!

"Cassa!" She called out to the helper unit, "Assist me!"

The faceless automaton, knee deep in the mud and sinking, ponders for a half second. There are a few barely perceptible flickers and ripples in its surface. It reaches out and places a crudely shaped hand onto the fallen and stricken hellhound beside it.

"[INFERNAL_CANINE] vital signs critical," it intones, as it does so there a quick burst of laser scanning that washes over Kinu's body, "Foreign effect detected, movement compromised. Resolution decided,"

The shoulders of the machine split open, revealing vents that almost seem organic in their construction. From these gills, a stream of white, silvery mist rushes forth and washes over the field. Kinu, lethargic and struggling, suddenly feels a cool prickling and she is bathed in the mist. Her mouth fills with a slightly coppery taste and she feels... dry? Like she has inhaled very fine sand and it is now coating her tongue.

Then there is a burst of energy inside her. Not just the Warrior of the Wasteland, but in Nemo and Krys as well. Their energy levels surge as whatever nanobot technology rushes through their system and creates new power inside them and processes the effect of the disgusting mud.

- Kinu, Nemo and Krys are all restored for 80 ENR and have Purge applied to them.
> Kinu is now at 90/90 ENR (-20 Capacity for Stack) and is cured of Paralyse - Stiffen
> Nemo is now at 159/360 ENR (-50 Capacity for Stack) and is cured of Paralyse - Stiffen (She is still Prone)
> Krys is now at 180/180 ENR (-40 Capacity for Stack) and is cured of Paralyse - Stiffen (Withstand is still in effect)
> Small Hellhound is now at 44/50 ENR, is out of Burnout and is cured of Paralyse - Stiffen. It is still Prone and Cratered

With that done, Cassa surges forward, carving a trench through the mud and places itself closer to Kinu and in front of the whining hellhound.

[grampagen]

The faceless automaton, knee deep in the mud and sinking, ponders for a half second. There are a few barely perceptible flickers and ripples in its surface. It reaches out and places a crudely shaped hand onto the fallen and stricken hellhound beside it.

"[INFERNAL_CANINE] vital signs critical," it intones, as it does so there a quick burst of laser scanning that washes over Kinu's body, "Foreign effect detected, movement compromised. Resolution decided,"

The shoulders of the machine split open, revealing vents that almost seem organic in their construction. From these gills, a stream of white, silvery mist rushes forth and washes over the field. Kinu, lethargic and struggling, suddenly feels a cool prickling and she is bathed in the mist. Her mouth fills with a slightly coppery taste and she feels... dry? Like she has inhaled very fine sand and it is now coating her tongue.

Then there is a burst of energy inside her. Not just the Warrior of the Wasteland, but in Nemo and Krys as well. Their energy levels surge as whatever nanobot technology rushes through their system and creates new power inside them and processes the effect of the disgusting mud.

- Kinu, Nemo and Krys are all restored for 80 ENR and have purged applied to them.
> Kinu is now at 90/90 ENR (-20 Capacity for Stack) and is cured of Paralyse - Stiffen
> Nemo is now at 159/360 ENR (-50 Capacity for Stack) and is cured of Paralyse - Stiffen (She is still Prone)
> Krys is now at 180/180 ENR (-40 Capacity for Stack) and is cured of Paralyse - Stiffen (Withstand is still in effect)
> Small Hellhound is now at 44/50 ENR, is out of Burnout and is cured of Paralyse - Stiffen. It is still Prone and Cratered

With that done, Cassa surges forward, carving a trench through the mud and places itself closer to Kinu and in front of the whining hellhound.

Her breaths drew deep, heavier as her boots sunk in the mud. With each wading step Kinu felt the layered filth harden.

"Ain't gonna let you~!"

Her chest filled with air, but there was no relief, she was slowing. Contrary to her protests, as deeply the bellows drew into the furnace within, she felt this disgusting weakness spread through her limbs. No matter what she did, that's the way it would go and nothing would stop that revolting half-man with his stapled-on metal limbs with his idiot braying over that megaphone, lording over the rest of these sludge-mutants

"All because there's a wall to our backs and our way is through..."

Worse yet, that chittering rubber imp that spat in her face was just within reach, and for what he did, she owed him big time.

"--rrrgh~!"

She was going to suffocate on her feet while these two tire-man tools wallowed in their half-wit designs and took their marching order from this cackling minion. Even when she had the drop on them they took her best hits and only tumbled over, and for every fall they took, nothing she did amounted for squat.

"Who," she snarled, "are you-!!"

Then the white mist issued from Cassa swept upward. Kinu's last exhale twisted a hollow shape before her face flowed like smoke before her. Fine grit, like pale ashes, in the moment she could hardly imagine a finer taste than these charged bits of metal. Immediately, the effect pronounced itself, and her tingling with excitement and her split, blackened lips wept and slavered. Now that was an atmosphere she could get behind!

"Damn right," she said, "keep the little pup alive, because I'll need the both of ya to finish this!"

The Tire Brutes were still set where she left them. Struck head first into the dirt, they never lost those stupid looks on their faces. One of them in particular, to Kinu's sensibilities, must have had a particularly obnoxious expression, a split in the rubber fold that lined its crown, perhaps, because she'd decided at some point that he'd be her main target as she felt the strength return to her limbs. How unfortunate for them that they were within arm's reach.

Rushing forward, Kinu parted the mist, her bloody tresses a lotus rising from the muck. In an instant she was upon him. How she managed to maneuver over its considerable mass was a mystery, but when she was done, she'd sunk in the hold, draped behind the Tire Brute's back, hands wrapped over its arm, stretching its neck under her knee like the many-limbed cephalopods of the brackish deep!

"You call shootin' your shot first justice, yeah?! You give up yourself to the cause, and call it the law?!"

She pulled back upon its shoulder. The moment the mud had shed, Kinu fell into it and found a wellspring of power she hadn't felt since...

"Is it 'cause that fool told ya to?! Is all your belief based on a droppy slugman over there wearin' a fancy hat?!"

This was unlike anything she'd had never felt before, and here in the eternal pathways of this city of the damned, she felt it swell within her. That thing she felt lost, it took hold of her and through her, seized upon her foe. The success of this unorthodox clinch, knowing this was a matter of course carried with it a greater high than anything before. As if it was all leading somewhere, and with confidence this nascient knowledge let she spat her venom as easily as breathing.

"One thing I do know, your gate brought you here, same as me! What the hell are you even doin' here? Do you even stand for anything, or you just someone else's tool to be used?"

She knew that even with whole worlds crumbling apart around her, she was still here.

"'Cause staining the world with your brand ain't gonna civilize nothing! What was here is gone now! If that's what your Archduke has planned, then you signed on with the wrong side here!"

From here at the bottom to the sprawling tree swaying its golden boughs. For a moment the indescribalble awe and mystery was not so far out of reach. Was its something in common with the old magic imparted in the broken leaves that littered the Eternal City when they first arrived? But within, she knew she could stand against anything, and the foundations beneath would never be broken where she tread again.

She kept her repartee blunt. Twisting through the air, she threw her hip up and lunged forward, putting her weight behind an enzugiri behind the head sending the Tire Brute sailing off to its little leader. As he went off, before she even stuck the landing, Kinu felt the distance between her and the summit of the Great Tree once more...but it was a path she had seen, and the way to it was surviving through this!

"Because he threw you into the wild with The Great Kinu! And in my world, you ain't worth any more than the skin off your back! You can muddy the streets all you want, but it won't mean a thing when I put you thorough 'em"

[Nik Hasta]

She kept her repartee blunt. Twisting through the air, she threw her hip up and lunged forward, putting her weight behind an enzugiri behind the head sending the Tire Brute sailing off to its little leader. As he went off, before she even stuck the landing, Kinu felt the distance between her and the summit of the Great Tree once more...but it was a path she had seen, and the way to it was surviving through this!

"Because he threw you into the wild with The Great Kinu! And in my world, you ain't worth any more than the skin off your back! You can muddy the streets all you want, but it won't mean a thing when I put you thorough 'em"

- Kinu engages Strong Style uses 1 RUM point when Basic ATK-ing Tire Brute 1 (Job) for 62 DMG
- Kinu manages successful Grapple on Tire Brute 1 (Job)
- Kinu opts to end the Grapple with an additional free Basic ATK for 12 DMG
- Tire Brute 1 (Job) is Flung for an additional 73 DMG
- Tire Brute 1 (Job) collides with Tire Brute 2 (Olaf) and Brute Wrangler (Wagner) and takes an additional 8 DMG from being Cratered from the Fling and is Prone.
- Tire Brute 1 (Job) has taken a total of 155 DMG.
- Kinu is at 75/100 ENR (-10 for Capacity for Stack)

The brutish rubber man collides into his struggling comrades, a garbled roar coming from him. Kinu's muscles were possessed of such strength in that moment that the blunt damage somehow hits far harder than it would normally on a creature that seems to be made, or at least coated, in hard and pliable rubber. They struggle in the mud together for a moment, with a fair amount of pushing and shoving, but ultimately the two hulking brutes surge up right.

They are taller than Kinu, bulkier as well. Their misshapen biceps a crude approximation of the kind found on the sort of beefy men that Kinu was well familiar with from her history in the ring. The one whom she just spent sprawling, clearly having landed some serious damage on him; squares up to mud-soaked wrestler and lets out a grunting hoot. Kinu sees the rubber fibres that make up its musculature surge and bunch around its shoulders before it lurches toward her to grab.

- Kinu, you have been attacked and must decide defensive options, please report to the Combat Notation Thread

As this happens, the other hulking brute surges through the stinking mud and closes distance with Cassa, enormous arms surging in the same way as the one that faces Kinu - the two brutes minds clearly as one on their course of action. Cassa, never the quickest of beings to react, seems to simply accept its fate and there is an audible clang as the metallic figure is grabbed in a fierce bearhug. Cassa gives no indication that it is in pain but the sounds of metal grinding against itself rings over the garden.

- Cassa has taken 59 DMG and is Grappled

The brute then takes a dramatic step forward and hurls Cassa across the far wall of the garden, sending the machine flying like a silver missile. The mechanoid slams into the wall with a booming clang, leaving a crater in the stonework, before falling and landing face down behind a hedge at the edge of the garden, outside of the stinking bog.

- Cassa has been Flung and has taken a further 59 DMG and is Prone

[Nik Hasta]

Meanwhile, in the Death Dimension...

Regardless, she takes the moment to look around. Unsurprisingly for an evershifting landscape such as this city, spirits themselves are somewhat fluid in their appearances. The battlefield is mostly stable, but out past it she can see flickers of light and darkness appear and disappear, representing the dead coming into sight and then leaving as they are shunted to...whatever realm they go to when they are not in this city, she supposes.

There is of course, also the group of corpses from the oil slick. They burned still, which was not altogether surprising. Jane knew spiritual anguish could last years, maybe decades if the soul was unable to move on.

Wait.

There should definitely not be spirits from that planet in this city. They were bound to that location.

Why would they-

The burning spirits suddenly charged. Flailing, crawling, a times wiggling with the lack of extremities, they drew close to her at alarming speed.

Completely impossible, she thought, raising her hands as if to ward them off. In shock, she tries to step back but is pulled inexorably forward by the presence of the system made to defend her. Running on all fours, the spirits interpose themselves around her. Their limbs lock together as if forming a cage, or perhaps a molecular structure closing in on Jane. One of the faces presses ever closer, one of the younger spirits, maybe a child.

Jane, it whispers in a voice that is shockingly familiar, as it is her own voice.

She scrabbles to aim her pistols at the one closes to her, completely alarmed, as her targeting priority system remains one of the few subsystems not clouded by warnings and messages...

And then she is free of the press of bodies? souls? as her Death Denial system seems to return to normal, busily pressing her along at to the location of maximum safety, at least in a physical sense.

As a matter of course, Jane usually doesn't tend to linger in the Death Dimension. Her D.R.A.M.A System is designed to shuttle her through this shady and incorporeal point between life and death as means of self-protection, she is definitionally merely passing through. She is not meant to linger at all. This is a place that is, despite her combat prowess, quite specifically dangerous.

For all her connection to death, Jane is aware that she does not belong here, nothing that 'is' really does. Only things that 'were' and even then they don't stay long. She has some measure of life in her; some kind of a soul or sense of memory or sense of self perhaps. Something that could be lost and would thereby constitute a 'death', an end to her and that would bring her, forever. Or at least until the universe found a way to move her on to whatever came next. A servant of a death god could either be very sure of their destination or have a much more open-ended fate in store.

There were days when Jane considered if there even was a next place for something like her.

But still, with all that considered, she lingers. Her systems chittering away as they prepared for the journey back.

The ground beneath her feet was not solid, she hangs in place level with it more out of habit than out of any law of gravity. It seemed possible that she could just as easily fly into the air or sink into the earth if she had any way of influencing her position in space. Inevitably, the humming opporessiveness of the silence drives her to seek other forms of stimulation and she looks around, beyond the immediate confines of the battlefield and into the city itself.

It is when she turns her head and looks in the direction in which the great tree lies, toward the centre of the city, that she sees something unusual.

That pull, the glimmer of light peering through the topmost branches of the megaflora that has been omnipresent and impossible to ignore since she and the others arrived in the city, catches her eye and seizes her gaze with some kind of iron grip. She finds she cannot look away. While she does not physically move, she feels a sense of akin to motion as something pulls at her consciousness.

Suddenly, the light at the top of the tree, at first no more than pinprick in this world, expands to fill her vision. More than her vision, it consumes her entirely. She is not moving, she can feel no sense of movement but she also cannot deny that she feels her consciousness rushing through brighter and brighter layers of unending light and burning energy. As her visual sensors adjust, she starts to discern patterns within the light of increasing complexity, layered on top of one another in some kind of endless chaotic mandala. Her sensors start to whine internally at the sheer density of information she is receiving.

It is akin to staring into the heart of a sun that is also the entire universe itself. The battlefield she was once on and the Death Dimension itself as a location feel like they have been left behind, lightyears distant as her sense of speed and intensity only ratchets ever upward.

A thought enters her mind, unbidden and illogical but somehow impossible to escape. Could this be death? Had she not survived the deluge of acid? Innumerable cultures have come up with the concept about 'going into the light' - could this be it?

As the intensity and speed grow, mirroring with her own sense of unease and increasing sense of existential dread; she begins to feel overwhelmingly exposed. She is this tiny microscopic thing caught in the gaze of something far greater than herself. Like a world made of myriad other worlds is probing her down to the atomic level.

Infinity stares through her, unending and limitlessly beyond her.

It is captivating.

It is horrifying.

She cannot escape because it is everything.

For a split second that lasts untold millennia, she hangs in the endlessly complex infinity. A mote of dust adrift in a universe that seems all too interested.

And then she is back on the battlefield. Still in the Death Dimension. Whatever passing glance the power at the centre of Khazan had given her seems to have passed. She feels her circuits coming back online and her transit drive preparing to pull her back to the material plane.

As it does so, she feels him.

Nekro.

She gets the vaguest sense that he can feel her, that he is searching somehow but it feels... different. She gets the sudden sense of the base of the great tree - no... beneath it... some part of her necrotic patron is down there. In the roots and the dirt.

Something feels... wrong.

Death is... Nekro is...

Afraid...?

Her drive engages and she is hurled back into the material plane.

- Jane it is now your turn, please report to the Combat Notation Thread.

[Postmania]

For a moment, Jane's terror parts like the crashing sea around a suddenly rising black obelisk. A curious sensation emerges with the arrival of this new recognition of Nekro's fear.

Satisfaction.

But then the implications of this fear arise around her, and it is these terrible possibilities that ring alarms in Jane's already alarmed mind. The possibility of a force that caused Nekro fear, the impossible weight of the presence that examined her, looked through her like she had browsed the dossiers of countless victims...in the mechanical camera of her mind's eye she pictured files and files in a folding cabinet marked Jane Doe…the attack by the spirits which should never have been here, even the sickening lurch of the sticky bioweapon coursing through her circuits and the sudden entrance back into real space, it was all too much.

She found herself only able to focus on one thing in all this swirling mass of clouded emotion and threat.

Survive.

Mechanically, without conscious thought, her arm tested the weight of the rifle within it. The robot known as Jane Doe tried to lift its guns, position itself into a firing stance, and simply failed. Perhaps there was simply too much of the bioweapon in it, gumming up the mechanisms that allowed the graceful and dynamic range of motion that it commonly displayed. Perhaps it was simply too overwhelmed, an emotion spike through the brain preventing it from taking action. Either way, the only thing it could think of after this was...

A snake in the desert sand appeared as Jane's rifle scope bore down on the location she knew the cultists would soon arrive at. With some interest, Jane observed the reptilian creature. Well positioned, it seemed an ideal ambush predator for this landscape. Jane at times enjoyed simply watching the native predators in her hunts. She was snapped from her reverie when suddenly, a much larger reptilian creature appeared from the sand beside the snake, snapping its jaws and trapping the serpent in its maw.

How easy the tables turn, Jane noted dispassionately.

Jane's body began to crawl, staying as low as possible, sliding its belly on the ground until it reached its destination: a tire. With some effort, Jane contorted its form, bending in ways unpleasant for most beings with joints, managing somehow to encase itself in this rubbery obstacle until only the barest hints of its eyes appeared above it.

The snake would be safe in this spot, it thought. No reptiles, on the sands or even looming across the horizons or below the earth, would find the snake in this hole.

[Sharpandpointies]

Well. That was something, is Krys' first thought.

Senses still partly caught up in crystalline wonder, bounded on all sides by the broken carousel, they take a quick glance, searching for a way out. Even as they do, roared challenges and imprecations echo through the wreckage, proving Kinu yet stands. Stands, and continues to battle alongside her allies, for even as Krys centers themselves, a thin mist wafts over the mangled sides of the carousel.

Their strength floods back, this time artificially, but without the sensation of thinning.

Invigorated, Krys focuses on the need to escape. As they do, thunderous impacts roll across the battleground - Kinu still at war, bringing the battle to their enemies. It's a jump to the top of the debris, then likely a fair distance through the mire to where the woman fights.

Or it would be.

The world - creeping back to its norm - blurs further, becoming a dance of waves and particles, a shimmering palace of energies. It surrounds Krys, permeates Krys, and defines Krys. A wild grin splits her body's mouth, the legs bend, and they're moving. Not fast, but somehow they clamber over the debris in no time. For an instant - a lifetime - Krys balances atop the broken carousel to study the battlefield with senses reaching through the three dimensions into the fourth, without regards for entropy's grip. Nemo, fighting one enemy, but dangerously close to the leader. Jane, disappeared. Kinu, battling two, a third very near.

Choices analyzed, discarded, and settled upon.

And they run.

Once again, no faster than before, no increase in velocity, only the occasional flicker of spacial jumps, but Krys nevertheless somehow covers the ground in a shockingly short time, closing on the smaller, slimy form close to the embattled Kinu. Their senses - now beyond those of three dimensions - pass over the creature, searching its shimmering wave-form for cleavage points, and Krys lets their body make the choices as their mind, caught in Time out of Time, muses almost lethargically. The controller of the bigger enemies is quicker. Possibly more alert and difficult to strike. How best to proceed? The answer, of course, comes in part from her current motion, skipping through space-time like a thrown stone, bypassing sections without passing through them.

If that is manageable, if space-time can be treated as discreet portions at greater scales than the smallest, can they not also treat any encounter as a discreet system? As they had, in a way, with Trevor?

There are, they consider, many roads to a destination. Infinite ways to travel from point A to point B. Another few 'steps', another ten meters travelled, and they are upon the dripping creature. A slight shift to one foot, and again Krys chooses a fast, closing attack, leaping off a jutting stone to smash both knees into the side of her enemy's head. But their thoughts continue untouched by time, almost leisurely in their pace. But perceived from outside of the system that apparent infinity collapses to a single path. And so... The vibration of Krys' energies pushes higher, faster, reaching into Time out of Time not only with their senses but with their own energy flows, seeking the best possible route through the system of their assault on their enemy, moving through all potentials.

For an instant, there are an infinite number of Krys in that small space, an infinite number of the squat, dripping creature, both passing through action and reaction to Krys' follow-up assault. Elbows blocked, hand-strikes nullified or circumventing the defense, further knees or different landings followed with any manner of kicks, a myriad of dizzying throws and sweeps, even pauses and counters rather than direct attacks. All blazing at once, simultaneously, all seeking a path through, the best possible path to reach the target. Many blocked, annulled, obviated, but there are so many, many more.

If the goal is achievable...

No. No. No. No. NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo-

...an apparently infinite amount of attempts will at some point succeed.

Yes.

The system collapses to the chosen path, its existence narrowed to a single route, the others vanishing into untouched potentials, maybes, never-happeneds. Still mid-impact, Krys adjusts; like they had with the hellhound, they catch the soggy foe around the neck area, their flying mass yanking it from its feet as Krys' own feet sink into the mire in response, Newton hard at work even through their partial foray beyond such laws. A step and a turn - not a spin, never a spin - and with one palm on the back of what passes for its skull, Krys drops their body-weight - and their enemy's, both - to drive the creature face-first into into a shallow patch of mire, their masses, velocities, and power adding together.

Face-first into the stone beneath the soupy mess.

[grampagen]

The brutish rubber man collides into his struggling comrades, a garbled roar coming from him. Kinu's muscles were possessed of such strength in that moment that the blunt damage somehow hits far harder than it would normally on a creature that seems to be made, or at least coated, in hard and pliable rubber. They struggle in the mud together for a moment, with a fair amount of pushing and shoving, but ultimately the two hulking brutes surge up right.

They are taller than Kinu, bulkier as well. Their misshapen biceps a crude approximation of the kind found on the sort of beefy men that Kinu was well familiar with from her history in the ring. The one whom she just spent sprawling, clearly having landed some serious damage on him; squares up to mud-soaked wrestler and lets out a grunting hoot. Kinu sees the rubber fibres that make up its musculature surge and bunch around its shoulders before it lurches toward her to grab.

The moment the rubber men squared up in full, Kinu bounded in place, bobbing from side to side where she stood as she licked the rest of the frosted tin off of her lips. Though her bloviation stemmed from a place within that still stung raw, the excitement was visible in her movements, and as the plastiscine monstrosity before her made its dopey little hoot, her hands dropped to her side as she answered, "HAAAAH~!!!"

Long striations seemed to draw and knit together under its skin, thick as a rhino's. Kinu laughed After all she put him through, was he really trying to flex on her? Her eyes widened, andas the Brute's muscles blew up, she fanned her fingers towards herself.

"Yeah? Yeah?! You want some more?!"

The Brute lumbered forward into the shoot, its arms reached out to grab. Kinu swayed inward, and took a shifting step to the outside as she nigh-effortlessly circled around the brute.

"How long 'till your road-rash of a face falls apart, skidmark? 'Cause I can do this all day!"

As this happens, the other hulking brute surges through the stinking mud and closes distance with Cassa, enormous arms surging in the same way as the one that faces Kinu - the two brutes minds clearly as one on their course of action. Cassa, never the quickest of beings to react, seems to simply accept its fate and there is an audible clang as the metallic figure is grabbed in a fierce bearhug. Cassa gives no indication that it is in pain but the sounds of metal grinding against itself rings over the garden.

The brute then takes a dramatic step forward and hurls Cassa across the far wall of the garden, sending the machine flying like a silver missile. The mechanoid slams into the wall with a booming clang, leaving a crater in the stonework, before falling and landing face down behind a hedge at the edge of the garden, outside of the stinking bog.

As Kinu leapt into the tide of combat, she only had to do what came naturally to her. It hadn't occured to her that Cassa...would not. When she slipped to the outside to one of the Tire Brutes' backs, the heavy sound of solid metal being buckled, its scraping surface shrieking as the automaton fell cut through the courtyard, and she saw the last impact as Cassa flopped over in the bushes.

"OY OY OY~!" What the hell, man, I gotta tell you to move too? "Nobody does that to my Unit!"

[Nik Hasta]

Amidst the roar of combat, the group do not see Trevor appear on the upper floor of the building, a crossbow in hand. He engages the shooters in conversation but what is said is not caught by any of the main party. In fact, there appears to be a small argument breaking out amongst the group as the older man tries to stop the red haired leader from leaping out of the window.

As that continues, the squat pustulant figure of the creature Krys had just assaulted reels back, its body stiffening as it finds it harder to move. It raises its head and the vomits directly upwards, showering itself in a small stinking fountain of ooze that seems to restore its strength. It then swells its throat like a bullfrog and lets out a directed cacophonous shriek of such volume and pitch that cuts into Krys' body like shards of glass.

- Krys you have passed this HIT check for this attack and have defensive options to resolve, please report to the Combat Notation Thread

Deep in the bowels of the building, Morgan and his associates on the ground floor continue to take action that is not seen by any of the party.

Abruptly, apparently losing the argument, the red haired man leaps through the window and down to the ground floor. Landing on the remains of the car that had been tossed against the wall of the building by the wave of swamp unleashed by the Commander. He nimbly hops off and runs to the side of his more acrobatic comrade.

"Lanky, you damn fool!" he roars in a bright and clear voice. He is a handsome and well-muscled man with a shock of bright orange-y red hair loosely swept back in dramatic fashion. Despite the mud that stains him, he seems to project an air of dignity and rough-around-the-edges nobility as he attempts to bodily sweep his ally into his arms, "Why break cover? We don't take risks like that!"

"Yer the fool," comes the response of the stricken Lanky, "That quick one is making a break for reinforcements. We're not making it out of here if those idiots," he gestures at the party engaged in combat across the garden, "bring down greater heat from that Viceroy psychopath. He cain't be gettin' out of here or we're done for, loot or no loot. Leave me, stop him!"

Calvin looks torn for a moment, clearly unwilling to leave a friend in danger but unable to deny the truth of the situation. With a cry of frustration, he bounds forward, clearing the edge of the swamp easily enough and begins rushing around the perimeter of the bog with all speed towards the fleeing sole remaining toxic soldier by the wall.

He gets his desired match up almost immediately as the Kowalski, in a blur movement, hammers into his side and sends him careening into the wall with a body check that cracks the brickwork with the impact and sends Calvin crashing to the floor with a small cry of surprise. The creature, seemingly nodding in satisfaction, dashes away down the wall, hopping over Cassa and bring itself, unknowingly, within 10 feet of where Jane is hiding.

Lanky sees his boss go down and lets out a loud curse followed by a muttering of "Oh fer cryin' out loud," and hauls himself through the mud, getting to Calvin and dragging him to his feet so the two of them can try and chase down their zippy opponent.

[Sharpandpointies]

Already moving in, Krys hesitates as the creature vomits a shower. It's a mistake, but an understandable one, considering the potential of the enemy's inner fluids. Should have kept at it, they consider with some disgust - disgust at themselves, not the bodily fluids. Blood, vomit, feces, it doesn't really matter to Krys so long as it's not dangerous to them. Or hard to wash off.

After a time spent beyond the infinite, subjective ideas of 'filthy' or 'disgusting' somewhat loose their edge.

To her left, close-by, Kinu continues her mocking while circling her opponent like a dodging panther. There's no question the woman holds the upper hand, here, and her lack of fear is inspiring. But her amusement fades as the mechanoid companion is hurled away like a toy, landing out of sight but departing with the ominous note of wounded metal. Rage again suffuses the warrior woman's voice as she expulses outrage at the treatment of her ally. Krys can't help a lop-sided smile.

"Go get 'em," they whisper, an instant before the pustule before them inflates itself.

Senses still partly locked within that shimmering mirage of dimensional conjunction, the fourth axis added to the three of All Things, Krys 'sees' it coming an instant before it happens. An immediate deflation of the amphibian throat-sac leads to a brutal wail, focused and directed through the air, a vibration of such power it cuts like razors. Time grows sluggish as conclusions flash across their mind. The scream must be directional, or it would not have such power. Directional...and likely planar, to some extent. And its deadly vibrations will be tuned to a gaseous medium. Their body moves - unconsciously - before the thoughts are fully crystalized, and Krys throws themselves down into the thick muck at their feet, just to the left of the more shallow area where they had introduced their enemy's face to the stone.

And that stone scrapes their nose as, blind, they force themselves into the slop. It's not enough to fully cover them, but get them below the focused plane of the sonic blade? Protect them somewhat from bone-cracking vibrations? Seal their ears from ripping, terrible shockwaves calibrated to the atmosphere?

That, it can do.

The shriek passes, there and gone, and Krys rises - dripping filth - from the soupy marshland the battleground has become. Their bedraggled, bound-up hair has wormed free of its tie (perhaps damaged by the bullet grazing their hair?), and now hangs - lank and sticky - about their face, its ghostly shade mottled and shadowed. Their torn, damaged jeans are a patchwork map of camouflage drawn by a mad cartographer. And their besmirched face has further darkened, its only spots of light the paleness of their eyes.

Then a bright, razored grin glimmers, like the moon peering through clouds.

[Sharkerbob]

One minute, she'd been kickin' some solid ass, then next, she was taking a giant wave of poo-goo point-blank! The world spun wildly in an odorous avalanche, heinous nausea blinding her to the world. She was vaguely aware she was laying face down in the muck, and only Rae's quick reaction to speed-weave a mask over her face kept her from sucking in a lung-full of swamp-muck. She couldn't move! She was paralyzed! Pain and sickness lashed her body, and she thought she might vomit in the mask, drowning in filth regardless! Flashbacks to past battles with excremental terrors attempted to flicker through her mind, only for the sheer stench to simply short-circuit her thoughts into a scummy haze!

Even Rae was effected. Immune to the stench, her threads being so thoroughly drenched in the acrid waste had her writhing and wriggling in disgust reflex, not exactly paralyzed, but weighed down by the muddy soaking. In her weakened state, she was rendered nearly as immobile.

This was... **** it all, this was a mistake! This whole damnable venture was a mistake! What was she actually doing here? She’d escaped the grip of the Imaginators, just to drown in sewer-mud? What a joke! Not that there was much dignity to be had when one was aware of just how the Scribed Lands functioned, but she’d thought maybe she could have at least managed to not die in such an utterly humiliating means as to suffocate in offal! Of all the possible things to encounter in the entire Multiverse Beyond, this was how it was going to end? And so soon at that?

But then, she felt… Energy! Something vibrating through her whole being! The sickness cleared. She could move again! Even Rae seemed to gather herself once more, resisting the weight of the muck.

She pushed down, touching solid ground beneath the sludge, and pushed against it, whirling at speed back to her feet. The Melty Man was still right next to her, and the Toxic Commander behind him. No time for anything fancy. She sparked the embers as she lashed out with threads, latching the Melty and the Toxic together, and pulled, using the Commander as the anchor, to throw the Melty Man right into him, knocking them both into a slimy sprawl.

The blaze surged within her, and as the two hit the muck, she was already hurling another MicroNova straight at them, leaping back the split second after she launched the seething fireball. Rae lent an extra shove against her, helping push her past the muck to reach the cover of the now-destroyed carousal, and the two collapsed against one of the least-jagged pieces of metal.

“F-****…” Nemo huffed. She took in a rancid breath, barely filtered by Rae’s mask, and looked to see what had happened in the seconds she’d been face-planted in the filth. Krys was now dealing with one of the other monsters, Kinu facing off between two. The hellhound was still present, but she couldn’t see Cassa or any of the others from the building from her vantage point. Jane still seemed missing. And the two monsters she’d just exploded still weren’t dead.

“We’re gunna hit empty in another minute,” Rae pointed out, sounding ragged.

“I’m aware,” she said. She had maybe a couple more shots left, and then she’d be down to fisticuffs. She wondered, if she just gave up and prayed, would the Trickster hear her? Would she do anything to help? Or would she leave Nemo to wallow in the waste as righteous punishment for running away?

Things weren’t so screwed yet that she’d tempt the option, and she wasn’t deluded enough yet to think it actually was one. She took another breath. Her body ached, and the smell was still making her dizzy. She could either dash back out and try to help the others, although they seemed more than capable, and that would probably give the two sprawled out scumbags time to recover. Taking time to recover her Mana would do likewise. With the battlefield conditions the way they were, this was now a war of attrition and a war of shifting numbers. Best bet was keep the Commander and his Melty Minion occupied, try to finish them off, freeing her capable companions to deal with their targets.

Alright. It was a gamble, but she had enough power for one last burst. If she could time it right, she might be able to hit the two and finish at least one of them off while they were still prone. She focused and gathered the heat, fanning her inner embers once more to prepare the next blast…

[Nik Hasta]

As Nemo stumbles away from the pile of rotton and stinky enemy combatants, the Melty Man undergoes a strange transition in the composition of its body. It retracts and seems to harden, becoming denser and deep within it glows an ember of bright light, distinct from the flames that sputtered on the damp earth around it and muted amongst the dark green ooze that constitutes its body. But it begins to glow brighter.

Its face turns and it looks to its commander with a strange bubbling mewl, almost of pity or shame at this being the end of it. A gnarled and mutated mitt-like hand reaches up and grasps the globular face and cradles it as gently as such unweildy fingers can. The Commander stares into the eyes of his stricken soldier, with an expression that radiates a mix of sorrow and a kind of twisted pride.

"Xaric," he says, in a gentle rolling tone, "Yer've done me and the boys proud. Jimmy, Franky, Carmen... Ya didn't choose this life but yer pursue-d justice wit' der best of them," the Commander slurs. There is a whining noise emanating from the molten creature, gradually rising in pitch and volume in sync with the light that glows at its core.

"Whatever ya got left to give, I'll take it," the Commander says, pus-filled tears flowing from his bloodshot eyes.

Xaric, the molten creature, lets out low noise of perhaps approval or thanks for the Commander's words as abruptly the entirety of his liquid body glows and becomes less dark green and takes on the patina of a puddle of petrol, a bizarre rainbow patterning that makes him, for a moment, oddly beautiful

And then he swells and explodes with a thunderous burst of noxious liquid that flies in all directions, showering everything around his position in a near 50 foot radius.

- Melty Men is dead.

- Toxic Commander takes 9 DMG net between healing and damage and is inflicted with Crater

The shockwave rips through the swamp, sending up a mud and debris as it does. Krys is struck by the wave of force, slightly ahead of the rain of liquid. They see the dwarven creature they had struck moments ago attempting to move its body but the result of their strike but moments ago leaves it paralysed and unable to dodge. The liquid lands on it along with the shockwave. The creature screams in curious mix of pleasure and pain. It is clearly struck and hurt by the shockwave but the liquid seems to have some kind of revilatising effect. The net benefit, with the damage from the wave seems minimal, the pint-sized monster is clearly worse off than before.

- Brute Wrangler (Wagner) takes 5 DMG from Thunderclap and takes a net 21 DMG between damage and healing

Krys doesn't imagine that they will enjoy the same benefits of this liquid striking them as it sails towards them.

- Krys, you take 5 DMG from Thunderclap and has Defensive Options to resolve. Please report to the Combat Notation Thread

Insulated within the wreckage of the carousel, Nemo is buffeted by the explosion but the shower of ooze spatters on the wreckage rather than her or Rae.

- Nemo, you take 5 DMG from Thunderclap

Kinu sees the two hulking brutes in front her. They take the explosion in stride, seemingly unbothered by the damage inflicted and grunt appreciatively as the liquid lands on their bodies, seeming to suture and close some of the damage she had done. takes the shockwave, planting her feet in defiance and sees the liquid likewise heading through the air towards her. The

- The Tire Brutes take 5 DMG from Thunderclap and are net healed by the attack for a small amount

Much like Krys, she assumes that her human body will not take the shower of pungent liquid nearly as well and, even as the shockwave passes through her, she has to take action. As she prepares to move, she notices that her Hellhound is just out of harm's way.

- Kinu, you take 5 DMG from Thunderclap and has Defensive Options to resolve. Please report to the Combat Notation Thread