[center][img]https://files.catbox.moe/3cdm11.png[/img] [b][/b][/center][justify][color=red]“How many so far?”[/color] “By our count, about a hundred. Other surviving groups notwithstanding.” The Tortan sighed, clinging to an enchanted staff that was scuffed from use as a pry-bar. The Tortan’s shoulders were knotted, his eyes drooping with weariness. Opposing him and standing before a pile of rubble stood Chiro, her chitinous armour covered in dust and her claws blunted. She only gave the Tortan a nod, before she turned away and headed towards the pile. The sound of scraping rubble masked the sound of the Tortan leaving, Chiro’s claws crushing through concrete boulders and ripping polymer structures. Over and over and over she had done this, seeking out the life signals that her armour could sense trapped in the rubble; most of them were too weak to save, their sighs fading before Chiro could bring them to safety. But sometimes, it was worth it. Heaving through enough debris to make a gap, Chiro pushed on, moving inch by inch until she saw the alcove. The light here was all but gone, the only source being from the hole that she made — and thus blocked. Dim as it was, Chiro could see the weakly breathing figure, whose light hair and beard reminded her of that man she had spoke to before. Donnel, was it? The name sounded correct. It was a miracle he had survived for so long beneath all of this, even Chiro might have struggled to escape in her present state. Even as he clung to the edge of life, Chiro’s sense could pick up the energy he had burned to keep himself alive. It was power, which he had hidden until this time of need. Gods, she was hungry. Like all of those who ‘mattered’, Chiro was a form of red scourge. A ‘vampire’ like those from myth, who survived through drinking essence in the form of [i]blood[/i]. Chiro was not like most, who could survive on a diet of whichever random human they stumbled across — Chiro had a unique curse. She could absorb the very strength of those who killed, but to be satiated she had to drink from those who were [i]strong[/i]. Stronger than her was ideal, but being stronger than average could do in a pinch. Hence her dilemma. [i]How long had it been since she ate?[/i] At the very least since she was imprisoned, all those years ago. Such a long time without blood should’ve driven her insane, but her armour gave her a way to stave it off, her mind and body switching off in a long torpor until the moment she escaped. Now? Now she was on a timer, she had to eat and she had to eat [i]soon[/i], or risk atavism and lashing out at as many people she could find until her thirst was slaked. Hell, the very notion of betraying a former – if brief – comrade to feed was evidence that she was slowly losing it. As Chiro thought, her mouth activated. To say she was salivating was putting it lightly, for her very jaw started to unfurl into multiple components, segments exposed more like a pair of giant needles than any real form of fang. In the gloom Chiro crept closer and closer, thinking about how easy it would be to steal his life and pretend her was crushed like the others. She was barely an inch away before— “Look!” Chiro’s head snapped away, her mouth returning to normal as she heard the voice. Wrapping an arm around Donnel, she hoisted him back and out until she could carry his limp self out into the open. The commotion of people jumping and waving was drowned out by the sounds of propellor-craft, seaplanes landing nearby as the first answer from Orst’s natives came around. Seaplanes and hovercraft arrived, ready to help and not a moment too soon. Chiro took Donnel’s body with her, giving it over to join the many who needed medical attention first. She would have to eat later.[/justify]