[center][h3]Helena Lichter[/h3][/center]

First came the ice, a miniature deluge of sparkling white chips from the cooler behind the bar.  Into the glass afterward sloshed a sizable serving of tonic water, the stream lessened bit by bit until its overseer stopped the flow at what she envisioned to be the three-fourths mark.  With that out of the way, only the gin remained, and with practiced precision the bitter liquor lofted into its resting place.  In two deft turns the cap to the gin bottle found itself tightly fastened once again, and the next moment the whole container lay on its shelf as if nothing ever happened.

Behind the bar counter, the smartly-dressed military woman grasped the glass, her fingers exerting a delicate pressure.  She wheeled it around in a little circle, making sure that the drink's components were mixed.  Satisfied after a few seconds, she allowed herself a slight smile as she brought up a sliced lime from a covered dish and squeezed it into the glass before impaling it upon the lip.  “Two bitter flavors, unpleasant on their own,” she murmured in her liltingly-accented voice, then inhaled deeply to take in what little scent the finished product offered.  “Put together, they cancel out one another's faults, and make something altogether excellent.  That is the essence of gin & tonic.  But that principle can be applied elsewhere, no?”

“Commander Lichter...”

In front of the bar stood a squadron of thirty skeleton warriors, standing at attention in various stages of boredom.  Before them were two more unique monsters at attention, one a voluptuous naga pyromancer, and the other a wizened witch.  Of the two, the former had been the one to speak, her rather catty tone complimenting her ill-fitting, sloppily-worn uniform.  A meter to her left, the wrinkly green crone stooped with head bowed, silent and proper.

Helena ignored the naga, having started to drink her creation.  A half-minute passed as she continued to take sips, twice stopping and making as if she were about to speak, then seemingly changing her mind and returning to her gin and tonic.  “Lieutenant Odile,” she said at length, her voice steely.  “One cannot alter her own nature, but the lengths to which you seem to go to remain inflexible beggar belief.  Lieutenant Gretchen has been making a clear effort to adapt -more so than the other lieutenants- but you refuse to accommodate even her.  Your creator had other purposes in mind for you, I think, than military responsibility, but General Bitrate left long ago.  It would be prudent to dwell on today's lesson.”  Setting her glass down, Helena crossed her arms.  “But if you do not heed me, perhaps Tatter will be able to sort you out in a more...direct manner.”

The naga went white, her mouth opening and closing, though no sound came out.  Leaving her to work the threat over, Helena addressed the witch.  “Lieutenant Gretchen, please relay to Lieutenants Hollow and 'Tungus' that your next mission will be to the Silverdrift Mines, to put down the infection festering there and retrieve the Wretched Core.  That is all.”

After the witch bowed and turned to go, her skeleton troop and the terrified naga in tow, Helena beckoned over a member of the Iron Lounge staff—a moleman.  “Inform the staff to prepare the room for a number of the Supreme Lords.  I'm not sure of the arrangements of this celebration of theirs, but we must be ready when they ret...!”  The knife-fighter went silent as a voice echoed through her head.  She -no, all the guardians- had been summoned.

[hr]

With a tremendous noise the old, sturdy door burst open, slamming into the wall beside it, to admit Helena to the Thaumaturgium.  She sprinted in an unnatural manner, very bent forward and low to the ground, her arms and legs pumping farther and faster than a human's ever could.  Rounding a corner of the wooden balcony, she reached for the carpet.  Her fingers grew, morphing into brutal claws, and their steely tips dug into the deceptively rigid surface of the carpet.  They ripped right through and stuck in the wood beneath, allowing her to turn right on a dime and launch forward once again without losing much speed.

As she barreled toward the Scrying Sanctum, an ephemeral, high voice called out from the ether.  [i]”Hey, what gives!?”[/i]  Alongside Helena, the carpet rippled, and rising strands of it billowed upward to keep pace with her.  The strands detached from the carpet, and in a matter of moments they wove themselves together to form the upper half of a young girl, the loose weave on her torso and lower arms billowing behind her like tentacles after some sea leviathan.  [i]”If you're gonna come into my turf and rip up my poor carpet, you better be ready to re-shelve all the weapons in your lounge!”[/i]

In a voice remarkably even despite her exertion, and one tinged by disdain, Helena replied, “Tatter.  I wouldn't do it anyway, so it's no use.  And shouldn't you be in the Sanctum already?”

The ubergeist shrugged, which looked a touch off with unformed forearms.  [i]”Eh, I'm already super close.  Could pop in anytime I wanted.  What do you think's going on?”[/i]

Helena slid to a stop, the elaborate door to the Scrying Sanctum just ahead.  “No idea,” she admitted, taking a moment to smooth out her cloak and adjust her cap.  With a flick of her wrist, her deadly ghoul talons receded. “Last I heard the Supreme Lords all went out for some kind of event, but if Volaris is here, something may have happened.  Did you lock down your area?”

Giggling as if her fellow guardian was an idiot, Tatter replied, [i]”Duh!  The Thaumaturgium's always ready to party.  You shoulda seen what I was working on.  Actually, it was an ongoing mutation, so depending on when I get back I bet it'll be REALLY interesting.”[/i]  She stopped by the door as well.  In preparation to go in, her whole constructed body wove itself into humanoid form, complete with a flowing robe.  Tatter gave Helena a parodied bow, and in an outrageous attempt at a formal voice told her, [i]“After you, madaaame!”[/i]

Helena rolled her eyes, and marched inside, with the little spirit floating in on her heels.  Already present were Baron, as eerie and uncanny as ever, as well as Garlock of the arena, as well as Volaris himself.  Just the sight of the great being, his nightmarish form as imposing as it gets, made Helena take in a sharp breath of air, her heart quickening.  Behind her, even Tatter straightening up, her simulated face grown serious.  The two took their places along the chamber's walls, standing at rapt attention in the fleetingly beautiful glow of the scrying pool.