[h2]Signe Amundsen[/h2]

Elsewhere in the city, away from all the fighting, the former alchemist stood, studying a map of the area. It seemed that her preparations had been completed just in time, since with night falling everyone with the slightest lick of sense was getting off the streets. Perhaps the mundane things that populated most of the world were more aware than she usually gave them credit for? At least it meant that stashing a few of her more bizarre looking toys away was easier, with a good spread around Rokuro.

Then, annoyingly, one of those... episodes happened again. Like someone had cut their strings, Signe's arms dropped to her sides, becoming as inert and immobile as the porcelain looked to be. Trapping the map under one foot, the long-haired mage waited for it to pass, idly noting that it was taking longer than the last one, though the length wasn't consistent over short periods. 

So far as maladies went, it was rather dangerous for one in her profession, but better than when the magic she now wielded ended up attacking her own body. It was mild for now, but over time... Signe had calculated that there was, at most, a year before it became fatal. Such were the risks of performing highly invasive surgery to 'improve' your soul with the equivalent of a chainsaw and a barn's worth of steroids. Maybe she should have incapacitated her family first, so they couldn't resist it in any way.

That was something to test next time. For now, once her arms were working, she would just have to win this little ritual.