Ice whirled as Pithy made her retreat, shards of ceramic and glass crowding the floor as dishes, drinking glasses and even wall decorations were flung her way.

It seemed the layer of ice covering the floor had left the assailing pipes stuck in place and prevented new ones from rising below her, but her narrowed eye now flicked towards the numerous shards that cluttered her retreat. So far the entity had failed to make use of them, hinting at the possibility that it might have been unable to make use of objects in the building once they had been broken, but if this was simply a mere lapse in judgement, she was not eager to deal with swarms of smaller, sharper projectiles being thrown her way.

Finally, she reached the door she had been aiming for, only for the knob to come to life at the last moment, giving her fingers a chastising slap. Pithy stifled a frustrated snarl, giving her hand a pained shake.

[i]I am being mocked. Again.[/i]

Pithy slammed the pommel of her rapier against the lock, more out of anger than any desire to smash it open, but like with the window, the spike on her guard did not so much as scratch the metal.

The sound of the long-shooter echoed from outside. [i]What is it now?[/i] she thought, letting out a hissing breath through clenched teeth. She could only hope whatever her ally outside had seen was not related to what she was already dealing with. Her position was precarious enough as it was without bringing in her aggressor’s allies.

A painting flying towards her head interrupted her introspection, and Pithy ducked her head, dashing away from the hostile furniture towards a corridor off to the side.

The respite from the raining projectiles lasted only a moment. A sound like rending metal froze her in her tracks. The appearance of a large turbine suddenly tumbling into the hallway and spinning her way saw her backpedaling back to the previous room. Pithy threw herself bodily to the side as the ceiling fan spun past her, crashing into a group of tables.

Once again, random objects began to fly at her. The sorceress brought her floating ice to bear, but a few objects slipped past. Pithy covered her head just in time for a painting frame to slam against her arm. A sharp impact from a metal candle holder drew a hiss from her lips, and Pithy rose to her knees, twisting as she swept an arm towards the incoming projectiles. An uncontrolled gale swept over the room, throwing the floating cutlery, decorations, and even a few nearby tables aside. Before she had something more painful to look forward to than a new set of angry welts in the morning, the mage took the chance to scramble back into the hallway.

In the silence that followed this latest attempt in her life, a voice she recognized came from the locked room. It seemed Nero was close enough to hear.

“Can't get in that way, window in kitchen! Don't relax for one instant Pithy, Kno One [i]is[/i] this entire building!”

A trembling sigh escaped Pithy, one she was not certain was borne of relief or frustration. Certainly, a part of her mind screamed out that this could be yet another trap. Some haunts could very easily create sounds or cause hallucinations for people inside their territories. However, the truth of the matter was that it did not matter if this was a trap. The door refusing to open, leaving her with only one choice of direction made it clear that she was being herded. She would not be able to deviate from the voice’s chosen route for her unless she found a way to divide its attention.

As Nero’s voice receded, her captor’s voice returned. The laughter that seeped from the building’s foundations made her features darken, the pleasure in the voice fueling her irritation at this upstart.

[i]He speaks as though I’m unfamiliar with the threat of death. Stay calm. I have had a sword hanging over my head for far longer, that terrifies me far more than anything this fool can concoct. If there is a thought I should latch onto, this is it.[/i] “I am aware of my position. It is unsightly for a ‘man of learning’ to be so proud in stating the obvious,” she added contemptuously as she began to walk towards the kitchens.

What would find her there?

[i]Fire and knives, I would expect. Why, the kitchen is just another battlefield,[/i] she replied drolly to her own thoughts. The exercise helped steel her nerves.

“Yet I am curious. A good learner’s value is diminished if they cannot teach. If this is truly an experiment, share your observations. From what I’ve seen so far, this understudy of yours behaves much like a particularly violent poltergeist, but there is more to it, is there not?”

[i]For example, a common poltergeist would not be able to make objects harder to destroy.[/i] There was also the matter of both the voice’s and Nero’s confusing statements. The voice was the building and so was this ‘Kno One’, which would mean that the voice and the other entity were one and the same, and yet they were treated as separate by the voice. At least if she took all that had been said at face value. The whole mess screamed of possession, but possession could only go in so many directions.

Her rapier glowed, forming yet another disk of ice to follow her as a shield. Surreptitiously under this spell, she began to create smaller, hexagonal sheets of ice beneath her robe.

[hr]
Mountain Dew had barely found a place in a nearby alleyway that had a good view towards the restaurant’s entrance and side, when he caught quite the peculiar sight approaching from one of the adjacent streets. Or rather, two peculiar sights.

The most outlandish of the two, a large, writhing snake following in the wake of a gaunt, skeletal figure wearing domed hat. A look through his rifle as the pair drew nearer only served to confuse Dew further. What he had at first taken to be green scales were in fact a varied assortment of vines and greenery, revealing that the snake was made entirely of plants, and the gaunt man approaching the restaurant was not simply skeletal – he was looking at a proper skeleton man wearing a mushroom over his head. Furthermore, where the snake dutifully followed its master like a trained pet, the skeleton was following one of Nero’s drones.

Dew drew back, smiling ironically at his new boss’s luck. At first, he’d wondered if Nero had been lying about sending drones to the competitors, if only to keep them in place waiting for the machines to come, but it was clear now that only Pithy had been spared the luxury of seeking out her own enemies. It was the price for being a bitch, he supposed. He felt a sudden itch on his trigger finger, and he scowled, taking it off from his weapon.

After waiting for a few moments, Dew chanced another look around the corner. 

The spooky scary skeleton had stopped at the side of the building, the snake hovering idly beside it and the drone hovering literally at his side.

Sharp sounds of cracking glass and ceramic had begun to filter from the entrance, evidence of a struggle inside, but he had yet to hear the rapport of Pithy’s revolver. The itch on his finger spread to the rest of his hand as he recalled the instructions he had been left with. 

[i]Think she was mostly thinking of people running out of the restaurant without her knowing, but yeah. I suppose this qualifies as ‘something wrong’.[/i]

The sound of his rifle firing over his head thundered over the street corner. Belatedly, he realized that he had just announced his presence to everyone in the block, and wondered if Pithy’s actual intention had been for him to play the role of distraction for whatever crept up outside. Something told him that kind of ploy would be right up her alley.

[i]Still got to deal with the skeleton sitting right there,[/i] he reminded himself. Dew forced himself to walk out of cover, forcing an easy smile onto his lips. His rifle cradled in a relaxed grip as he walked out of the alley and onto the streets. 

“Heeellllo there, Mr. Bones. That little drone back there tells me you’re looking for someone. You the next one up in the Crucible?” he asked cheerily. After a heartbeat, he frowned, smile slipping. “Ehrm, you can speak back, right? I get that might be a bit hard without lungs but I can’t believe the College would manage to get a brainless corpse running for the tourney. I mean, figuratively brainless. I’m not sure if you’d be a skeleton or a zombie if you happened to have [i]only[/i] your brain.”

[@Gardevoiran]