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Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by Fallenreaper
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Plans Come Crashing Down Pt 2


Location: One Night in Hell→ Exiting
Time: Evening- Opening



Killan


Killian’s eyebrow raised at Damian’s reaction. His right hand fell to his side and pulsed Vis, reading a spell. The air charged with prepared electricity nearest his palm. He didn’t like that Damian acting out his frustration out on a patron and prepared to act should the Licenti’s aggression increased. It was out of character compared to Damian’s usual, quiet demeanor. Killian to wonder what was up. Instinctively his lips pressed tightly together. Preventing him from inquiring about Damian’s unusual behavior until they were alone and out of eavesdrop range.

He carefully sized up Damian when the Licenti dropped to the kid’s eye level. His stuttering returned as he talked with her, trying to calm her down. Killian nodded when Damian looked at him for agreement. Silently, he continued to observe the exchange between the pair but didn’t draw closer. He couldn’t tell if the girl would bolt or not again.

Mercy’s expression soured suddenly when Damian mentioned their boss. Killian’s gut stirred with anxiety about the familiar expression. It was one of anger and utter hatred, something he had seen multiples when he was a gang member. A powerful motivator.

Mercy stepped back from Damian as her voice twisted into something angry, “Your boss? Protect me? She is the reason I did it. That bitch killed my brother!”

“Damian, let’s take this elsewhere. Did you see where she came from?” Killian suggested as he pointed to an emergency exit leading outside.

He didn’t want to go out in the cold, but having a scene among the crowd wasn’t going to help anyone. Damian also looked like he could use the fresh air.
Hidden 5 mos ago Post by May
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May Just Damn Cute

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Masha


Arc 2 Day 2
{ ONIH | About 8 pm }


Masha had moved herself closer since it seemed that Killian and Damian couldn't be trusted to handle a simple thing like taking a child out of the club. “Honestly,” she sighed, rolling her eyes some as she slipped her way easily through the people who had already started to clear back from the scene that was being made. “Why do I bother to hire anyone if I still have to do everything myself.”

She stopped about two feet back from them, so she could just barely make out what the girl had said. But the look that filled her face when she looked at her was easy to read. Pure hatred and pain. She knew that look. She’d seen it in the mirror when she was a child and she had lost her mother.

But what had Masha done to hurt this child? Who could she have possibly taken from her to make her look at her like that? The thugs that had attacked her and Nikki never once crossed her mind.

“It shouldn't take two fully grown men to deal with a child,” she said, pushing aside the confusion, and stepping closer to them. “Get her off the floor. You're making a scene.” She looked to Killian and said, “and find out what she was up to.”

{} {} {}


@13org

Rich Axford

All rational thought had left his head at this point. Frankly, all thought had left his mind aside from the confused jumble of fear and excitement. If it wasn't to do with Coriann, he didn't care.

The touch of her fingers, the low murmur of her voice, the promise of pleasure and pain. The actual pleasure and pain from every nip of her fangs, press of her lips against his, and her weight pinning him down onto the bench. He was a big, strong man, but even her slight frame held enough coiled muscle that he knew that she wouldn't be easy to dislodge from his lap. Not that he wanted to do that anyways.

Not even as she kissed him, holding his throat so it was almost difficult to breathe. He groaned lowly after a sharp hiss, large hands grabbed at her thighs his grip as uncertain as his groan. But despite his uncertainty in how he felt, it was obvious by the way he kissed back that he didn't want her to stop just yet.
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Hidden 5 mos ago Post by 13org
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13org Stay fresh!

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One Night in Hell Club, Bar area.

Day 2 (Arc 2): Around 9pm

Corinna was taking her sweet time. She knew that Rich wouldn't even try to escape her. Not after she injected her poison on him. Being on the very corner meant that she could do whatever she wanted as long as she didn't raise too much suspicion. Licking every single drop of blood that came out of his wounds, she continued alternating between kissing him, cutting him and licking the wounds. She could feel the mix of fear and excitement on him, she could feel his difficulty to breath under the strong grasp of her hand around his neck as she slowly sucked out vis from Rich. Feeding too fast wasn't her style. She liked to savor her meal, she liked to feel every single drop of fear, excitement... She wanted to feel everything.

The second Rich's large hands grabbed Corinna's thighs, she stopped kissing him, surprised. Now that was interesting... She could still feel his conflicted emotions on the way he touched her, the way he groaned, his eyes but still, she could also feel his desire as he kissed her back.

Pulling her face after a brief while, she looked at him, with a sinister smile on her face.
"You don't want me to stop, do you?" She asked, loosening her grasp on his neck, letting him breathe a little bit better.
"Don't worry, we are just getting started..." Corinna said, passing her hand through his chest, gently caressing it, but as soon as her hand got near his ribs, she stopped, and instead of continuing, she pressed her sharp, dagger like nails between his ribs.
"Tell me that you want me... Tell me that you need me!" She said, before plunging her fangs on his neck as she continued to press her finger in between his ribs, cutting him as she slowly continued to press him, the wound between his ribs getting deeper and deeper.

"Your taste... delicious..." she said, raising her head and looking him deep in his eyes with her mouth red from his blood.

"It's been a long time since I had such an enjoyable and satisfying meal..." she said, slowly passing her hand along his thigh caressing him before passing her fingers again through the same location, cutting him.

"What do you enjoy more, my little prey? My lips, my fangs or my nails? Let's see how much will you last..." She said, before kissing him again in a fiery and intense kiss.

Every second that passed, Rich felt himself become weaker and weaker, not only due to the blood loss, but he could feel that, just as she said, she was feeding on him. Pleasure and pain, fear and excitement... It was tough to choose between them and as her fingers continued to slowly get deeper and deeper on his abdomen, he knew it was only a matter of time until she started piercing his organs...

"Your time... Is running out, my adorable prey. I want to hear you... Do you fear for your life? Do you desire me? Would you throw away your life for me? Tell me to stop, and I will stop, but if you don't say anything, I'll assume that you want me to continue..." Corinna said, stopping cutting, stabbing, caressing and kissing him, instead, she was simply looking deep into his eyes. Eagerly awaiting for his answer.

Why was she doing all that? If she wanted to feed herself she could have did it and walked away very easily, but instead, she was taking her time, and now that she had already sucked out enough vis, she was playing with him...
So many questions, so many doubts... But there was no time to think about them... As she stopped kissing him, he would finally realize how hurt he was...

@May
Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by Fallenreaper
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Collab with: @Fallenreaper, @Luna

Time: Arc 2, Day 1- Afternoon

Location: Leaving and returning to Charles Aeon Residence





After locking the door, Charles pocketed the key. A few cracked windows had been repaired through he had to remind himself later to contact a contractor and ensure there was no serious structural damage. He could simply repair it with magic, but he often found it more complicated than letting others earn a living. A second opinion was also wiser. His carpentry skills were centuries old after all.

His arms wrapped his coat tightly around his form, shielding himself from the surrounding cold and continued down the porch step. Fresh snow crunched underfoot causing the immortal to pause, his head tilted up to glimpse the skies overhead. Snow continued to gently fall from rain burdened clouds circling Ominar. The icy storm reflected the bleak future. Idly, Charles wondered if the weather was connected to recent events. Anxiety settled into his core, mingling with depression that still lingered before the wind abruptly picked up. It roughly pawed at his coat, forcing Charles to clench it tightly and resisted its will by digging his heels in.

A few moments later it died down. Adjusting his coat once more, Charles cautiously continued walking along the upturned sidewalk toward the street. His feet snapped out with precision and purpose until he halted beside Archene. Every attempt made to avoid any still scattered debris now gradually being hidden by snow.

“It seems a storm is coming…” Charles commented in a quiet tone, noting the residential district’s dismay.

Archene seemed to be quite comfortable in his usual Haori despite the icy wind blowing and the snow on the ground.

He sighed as he looked a Charles, "In some ways, it is already here. Things could be far worse, however."

Whether he was talking about the recent events or the snowy weather was unknown. With all honesty, the recent events were unsettling to the point that it would be reasonable to relocate to another city, but given that chances were this could paint a target on him, he had to refrain from making such plans. Not that he expected the Prae to lose this chance to demonize and blame Licentia.

Letting out another sigh, he asked Charles, "Where will we be going?"

“In life? I’ve debated on that one myself. My first instinct is to move on. I’ve seen this happen a few times in America and it rarely ends well, especially in occupied areas. Back then, moving from place to place was never a hard thing for me.”

Charles lowered his eyes back to Earth. The heavens far out of his reach for now. His sight brushed over the atmosphere among the population and easily spotted the most seriously affected areas. Prae of all ages reflected a side of themselves that was rarely seen in public. Their usual pristine appearances were blemished by the recent news and possibly lacking answers, fear rolling off their distraught images.

“I fear about how Lilith is handling this...” Charles spoke out loud, concern in his voice as he continued to lead the way to Pick up Azulia. The walk would take some time as Erin lived on the boundaries of the business district and residential areas.

"Honestly, it could be far worse. It is almost as if people don't notice that the next time something like that happens, it will be in this very city and its Exeo." Archene sighs, "Not that I know how this incident came to happen."

The Licenti briefly nods at Charles, "Then we should go," as he followed along.

“Archene, please don’t rile up my paranoia with observations like that. Any opposing factions and organizations will be blamed for this,” Charles replied, leading the way.

"I am only being honest, and sadly, I'm very aware of where the blame has been and will be falling," he speaks a bit sourly, "Nothing that will just with mere words being exchanged right now, so I'll avoid riling up your paranoia."

“I appreciate it. It’s not uncommon for minorities to be blamed when it comes to a situation like this, but it does speak ill of the individuals in control. The unfortunate part is that I have little right to judge. I’ve literally wiped out resistances before in past years.”

Charles continued to crunch along the gradually collecting snow, his feet found paths around the upheaved pavement and ground to ease his progression. They continued to talk about various topics to pass the time. Finally, they arrived at Erin’s home causing Charles to pause. He politely gestured for Archene to wait as he made his way up the small porch steps.

His knuckles rapped upon the white door, the wood gave a hollow sound, before it creaked open. Charles’ foot stepped back to avoid being hit by it.

“I’m here to pick up Azulia. Is she ready?”

A woman in her late twenties stared at him for several moments. Her head turned back inside then she spoke, indicating Azulia was nearly ready to leave. He could hear loud arguments happening in the background. His eyes tightened in concern, unable to see past Erin’s Aunt to see the conflict.

“Just a moment, I’ll check,” Ms. McGrath stated then retreated back into the house.

After a bit of harsh conversation, Azulia was sent out.

Azulia sighed as she walked out. On her back was the backpack that held her clothes and homework. She smiled meekly at Charles.

“Hey, Charles. There is a lot going on inside. Emmett and Erin are going at each other because Erin said she was moving.” She said shifting. “How are you?”

Charles’s eyes scrunched up at the news. His lips frowned as he glanced at the weather, progressively getting worse, before choosing his next words.

“The weather is getting pretty bad so I’m afraid I decided it was best you spend the night at home rather than at Erin’s. From the sounds of it, I’ve might’ve judged right,” Charles extended his hand for her to follow him down.

“Azulia, this is Archene. A friend. Archene, this is my adopted daughter.”

Azulia nodded in understanding. She could tell from the sky that bad weather was coming their way. She looked up at his motion to follow him and she nodded, silently following him down. She looked at the new person in front of her.

“Hello, I’m Azulia,” She said.

Polite introductions were made as they began to walk away. Part way down the street, Emmett rushed out of Erin’s front door followed by a concerned Olivia. His feet took two steps at a time without even pausing. Charles knew that mood all too well causing him to stop in his tracks then walk over to the boy’s rushing figure. Careless in his pace, Emmett’s foot skidded across some collected ice causing Charles’ arm to snap out and catch him mid-fall. Surprised he hadn’t fallen, the boy’s head turned to acknowledge his savior: his teacher.

An apology was said, but Charles brushed it off. Before the adopted Kiseo children could object, the immortal insisted on escorting them both home before heading back. Azulia seemed ecstatic by this suggestion. After a few hours walk, Emmett and Olivia were dropped off and the group arrived back at Charles’ home.

Azulia promptly headed to her room to change her clothes then finish up her homework. It seemed things at Erin’s house had hindered her progression causing Charles to frown slightly. Dusting off the collecting snow off his coat onto the now salted porch, he hung it up. Quietly he moved toward the fireplace where he snapped a finger to create a spark of fire then tossed it into the dry kindling. Immediately the wood nourished the flame creating warmth to fight against the growing chill.

“Is there anything I can get you, Archene? It was colder than I expected it to become. Also, do you have a place or stay for the night? I can set up a bed cott for the night.”

"A pleasure to meet you," Archene replies to Azulia with a warm smile, "It is a pleasure to finally be able to meet his daughter in person." He chuckles briefly before following the group along.

“Given the recent events, I think it is better if I were to stay around you. Plus, there is no heating at my place currently." He chuckles, "If it gets any worse, it won't feel too good to stay there. But yes, some warm tea or water would be great."

Charles nodded then retreated into the kitchen to fix both Azulia some hot cocoa and Archene some warm tea.



Hidden 5 mos ago Post by Raijinslayer
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Raijinslayer .

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Damian

One Night in Hell Club

Day 1 (Arc 2): Around 7pm


Damian took a breath, closing his eyes as he felt the on rush of the girl's hatred wash over him through her Vis, his teeth grinding together in irritation as whatever progress he'd made seemed to have been lost. Her attempts to step away from him were halted by his grip on one of her arms, which had grown painfully tight as his breathing grew slightly more harried. Before he could muster up a response, either to Killian or the girl, the source fo the girl's outrage made itself known. And as she spoke, Damain felt his agitation grow ever more profound. He didn't know if it was just the club atmosphere continuing to mess with his head, the girl's emotions influencing his own, or perhaps a mixture of the two and then some, but it twisted his expression into an irate grimace as his eyes opened to level something of a glare towards Killian and Masha.

"Masha, listen to me when I say that I don't think we have time to waste relocating her," His struggled to keep his voice stable, his eyes momentarily switching to the floor, as if he was returning to his usual demure nature, before whatever flight of anger possessing him took hold once more and he forced his gaze back to meet his employer's. That being said, he still had the sense of mind to whisper what his next set of words, not wanting to cause a panic with in the club with so many people around."The girl was genuinely scared for her life, and not in a way that makes me think that it was just over getting caught. Something in my gut is telling me that whatever is scaring her is close and a threat to her immediate well being. So let me handle this now, alright. I might've had something if it wasn't for whatever she thinks . . . or knows you did to her brother."

Damian didn't, or couldn't, keep Masha's gaze much longer after that, his piece having been said. Now, he have his full attention to the girl before him, his eyes once more taking on a pink-ish purple glow as seemed to tower over her. His form would flicker and fray at the edges, outlining him in a haze of shadow. A sign of his fading control over his own abilities, though the girl was unlikely to take it as such. When he spoke to her, there was no pleasantness in his voice, nor any patience.

"And as for you, I'm done playing this game, so I'm going to make this simple. Tell me what you did, and I'll keep you safe from whoever this 'he' is that you're afraid of. And whether you believe that or not, allow me to tell you something I know I can do." Pulling the girl closer, his voice lowering to an impressive growl as he managed to put a decent amount of menace into his following words, the sense fo danger and threat only being heightened by the aura of fear that would be activated by his heightened emotional state. "If anything happens to anyone here, and you didn't at least try to tell me how to stop, then I will make you pay for it. You may think, after whatever happens, you'll be able to get away somehow. But you won't. I have your scent. I can smell everything your feeling right now. I can see it in the Vis that runs through your body. And I will hunt you down by this scent and show we exactly why people are afraid of Nightwalkers. So if you want to try your luck, go ahead. Stay quiet and be prepared for me to stalk every fucking shadow that you see from now till the day you die."

As he issued this threat, Damian felt a familiar rush thrill through his body. Looking down at this girl,seeing her utterly in his grasp. . . it reminded him of the moment with Corinna in Victoria secret, except in this instance he knew that this girl couldn't fight back. And from the strength of his grip on her arm, he knew that she would know it too. And deep down, he couldn't here the normal part of him muttering and worrying. 'I went too far', 'Why did I talk back to Masha', 'she'll never talk now', 'what is wrong with me?'. These and more thoughts ran through the back of his mind, but right now, the damian that was in control of the moment couldn't be bothered. If she didn't make speak up, then he would make good on his promise. And that scared him more than anything else.
Hidden 5 mos ago Post by yoshua171
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Arc II - Day 1 - 1:23AM
A @yoshua171 and @Tuujaimaa Collab


“Two hundred twenty five thousand beakers of beer on the wall!” A man’s voice sang with a trill as he stood in the center of his lab and let his hands dance through the air like some maniac conductor. Throughout the room vis danced through the air and so too did a vast number of implements fly about. A number of them would--on occasion--form into small golems to carry out a task or two before falling apart once more. On the floor a number of what appeared to be gremlin and imp-like creatures frolicked about while equally small fae entities flitted on gossamer wings, cowering away from the man.

However, the harmony of his work found itself disrupted as a powerful draw of vis tugged at something outside of his lab. After all, nothing--absolutely nothing--could touch the vis inside his lab. It was--simply put--warded too well for all that. Not to mention all the space-time fuckery. It’d taken such a long time to stop it from destabilizing and ruining all of his wonderful shelves.

Oh those first dozen shelves had been special. How he missed them.

What was he on about? Ah, yes, the vis. Walking from the center of his room he almost trampled several small licenti workers as he made his way to a panel of what appeared to be prismatic glass. Pressing a finger to the very top edge of the surface, he drew it down and then focused vis into the substance. Swiftly, sigils lit up over the surface, casting rays of light deeper into the material.

After a brief liaison with his reflection, the substance bent inwards on itself and then there was a distortion of the material and everything around it. Looking at the distortion would, for someone normal--nay, almost anyone--be quite disorienting, perhaps even to the point of retching. However, Reates walked forwards and stepped through it as if it were a door...

… because it was a door. obviously. ”I really ought to fix the illusion on that, it’s gotten quite out of hand,” he mused to himself as he exited the portal where it led into the closed-off office portion of his classroom. On the wall behind him was what appeared to be a perfectly normal mirror...

... because it was a perfectly normal mirror.

Reates carried on out of his office and into the classroom proper. Immediately he knew something was off. Wrong.

He fixed the position of a pink eraser on his desk and sighed with relief.

“Much better.”

That taken care of, he turned around and began heading back into his office. All was well in the worl--....

Interrupting his thoughts, Reates detected a culmination of vis--though far off--so incomprehensible that for several seconds he forgot to breathe.

Luckily, he did not also forget to teleport onto the roof of the university. He found that he was not high up enough and so he shifted locations again, a harsh displacement of air resounding as he appeared on top of the tallest building in Ominar. A number of butterflies flitted off of his form before settling once more and disappearing as they blended in completely with his clothes.

Eyes narrowing, Reates did something that he endeavored to avoid doing outside of the safety of his lab: he removed his glasses. Green eyes taking on a far more pronounced glow, Reates gasped quietly as he saw the veritable tide of vis being pulled away from Ominar and over the English Channel.

Casting his gaze out further and setting his jaw, he braced himself, for what met his gaze was something astounding. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so much energy packed into such a small space. At least not in Medius or Torqueo. At least not by anything resembling a mortal. Not by anything resembling normal and even then, for Aberrations seldom became so bloated with power.

A small frown creasing his brow as he tried to work out what was happening, Reates cast a hand out and weaved patterns with his fingers. Not a second passed before a number of spell matrices had formed and then swiftly began expanding from his hand to envelop a sphere around him. Glowing sigils manifested in the wind and then deformed and spread into more complex patterns. Two of the spheres continued to expand and as they did the mage took a deep breath and began latching onto any surrounding vis he could.

Keeping a close eye on the building pressure of the frenetic vis, even despite the fact that it was tens of miles away, Reates constructed a barrier and then, subsequently created another, which he moved into a phase state. Rapidly calculating the distance he sent it to ZUMA and had it tap into a number of the magic batteries of the university, drawing from the crystals to bolster it and allow the mage to expand it to full size. The final set of matrices expanded, his fingers weaving in intricate patterns to arrange and control the numerous matrices he now held.

Once the two barriers were stable and no longer required a steady flow of vis to remain as such, the mage tapped into the other two pieces of spellwork and let them filter some of the stimuli from his perception for him. Several minutes passed.

“Bloody Hell,” he exclaimed.

Seconds after he could see nothing but white as the entire horizon was set aflame, white light pouring from a source very few could see at all. Reates, only able to keep his wits about him due to the spells he’d arranged, swallowed hard and mentally reached out for his shields. Immediately he pumped 1/10th of his vis into each and then held fast.

He’d done the calculations and could literally see the air being displaced by the explosion of vis as it crossed the Channel.

Finally giving in, Reates let a smile cross his lips as the force hit the coast. He heard glass shatter and reacted fast enough to shield himself from the sound as well.

He began laughing as the force washed over his shield and then--moments later--the shield over ZUMA. The sheer amount of vis carried by the shockwave alone would recharge his crystals, feed Abstractis, and was suffusing his body with an intense warmth, much like a good brandy.

Taking advantage of the vis washing over the city another twelve matrices sprung out from his body. Sigils manifested in the air in diagrams constricting air into specific patterns. The vis began flowing into the sigil matrices and as they did he let his right hand grip Lyura’s Star. A slight distortion in the air in the very center of each sigil enclosure formed. He guided the vis through the tiny apertures and into the massive sets of magical batteries he’d hidden about the school grounds--not to mention beneath his classroom and in his lab proper.

As they did so he let both shields go--they were no longer necessary--and snapped his fingers. A cellphone appeared in his hands, Nabri’s number already dialed. Ah, speed dial was a wonderful thing--though perhaps not so wonderful as all those poor ruined desks. No, not desks. They’d been shelves? Yes, shelves, definitely.

The phone was still ringing. However, right before it picked up he hung up and flared his vis in a literal spire upwards from his position on the roof of the huge skyscraper. It lasted for a fleeting five seconds before disappearing entirely. He waited a three count.

“One...two…”

The night was young for Nabriales Taeryn. He'd held a little gathering at one of his various residences, inviting anyone that he deemed particularly noteworthy or attractive, and as was typically the case with his parties in private places it quickly turned from an intimate gathering to an outright orgy. Precursor Descendants were known for their legendary beauty--they were almost akin to gods and goddesses in the flesh, the purest expression of divinity that the human form could possibly capture. The ugliest and most foul of the Precursors was still leagues ahead of the most beautiful human in the universe. Nabriales, growing up exclusively among his kind, had never appreciated that aspect of his heritage until he had been introduced to his wayward kin. It wasn't that they were ugly--far from it--but they simply lacked something that he had always taken for granted. There was no longer that spark of otherworldly mystique, that sensation of awe and bliss building up in the chest, like when viewing a perfect natural vista for the first time.

Indeed, Nabriales had never really gotten to have that experience among his peers either--for he was quite considerably the most beautiful among the Precursor Descendants he'd met. Most normal humans could fall head-over-heels in love with him at the merest glance. Those who could be sexually attracted to him were--almost without fail--and even those who could not took the time to reconsider their stance. He had only further enhanced his natural beauty over the years with various potions and applications of magic, understanding that the allure he could command was just as potent a tool as any knife in the shadows or scandalous secret. It had, truth be told, been key to his arrival at the illustrious position that he found himself in within Ominar. All of the partygoers fawned over him like lovesick puppies (though with considerably more wits and propriety), and through his expensive alcohol and peerless alchemy he helped redirect that lust and awe into the throng of revelers.

He made no effort to either include or exclude any particular race at his little gatherings. Licentia, Prae, Humans--all welcome, if they had the temperament and the interest. The rich mingled with the poor, from businessmen who had visited his store to get that competitive edge to the delivery boys who wanted to charm extra money from their clients. Prostitutes and Lords writhed together across the polished marble flooring, the status of their birth and occupation forgotten--the sexual energy in the room removing from them their petty preconceptions and inhibitions. The focus required to adequately please even a single lover was intense, but to direct an entire crowd in the correct way was downright consuming. So engrossed in his actions was he that Nabriales failed to notice the event about to unfold outside of his little sanctuary. It was only when the intoxicating effects of his potions waned--first for the Prae, then the Licentia, and finally the Humans--that his focus broke and he looked outside of the window to see what was happening.

The immensity of the vis being pulled from Ominar across the ocean was... Legendary. He had never encountered such a feat before, and as he looked more closely to vaguely begin to attempt to discern its purpose he realised that he didn't particularly need to know anything about its purpose--whatever it was, it was bad. He quickly called the room to attention, offering them more potions, and attempted to teleport himself to the top of the building to get a better look. He was met with disappointment as his spell failed, having not provided a sufficient amount of vis, and composed himself briefly before giving it the extra kick it needed in order for him to successfully move him through space to the roof. Though his Sight was not exactly phenomenal, he could see clearly enough that the magic being intoned was phenomenally destructive in nature, and also that it was dangerously close to completion. He scrambled to activate the magical wards engraved into the walls of the penthouse below him, enough to ensure that it wouldn't feel any of the blast, before drawing a more complex spell matrix in the air to activate Victorious Secret's natural defences. Even in the presence of the ambient vis being drawn away, the rune was easy to conjure after he had adjusted for the extra vis required--and he could see from the top of the building that the defences had activated.

Then, everything was a blinding flash of white. Despite the fact that looking directly at the blast would have surely temporarily blinded the average human, the vis within Nabri's eyes was enough to shield him from any damage--though the fact that he could see the vis made it even more disorienting than it would ordinarily have been. He felt the pulse of energy ripple through the air before he felt any of the force of the incoming explosion, and scrambled to summon a lime green bottle of potion to his hand and chug it as quickly as he could before the force proper blew past him. Thanks to the instantaneous effects of the potion his balance was completely unaffected, but he very viscerally felt the force and the heat wash over him and remarked that with the potion it felt eerily similar to some combination of extreme sport and being in a sauna. He used his newfound stability to stabilise a decent chunk of the vis-infused explosion and begun the complex process of crystallising it, manoeuvring it into an orderly fashion so that he could ensure it was adequately studied. He was very skilled with the creation of vis crystals (though, shamefully, not even beginning to encroach upon the skill of his sister), but he found the process in this particular instance remarkably taxing--it was like working with molten glass, burning to the touch and suffused with a rage the likes of which he'd only ever had cause to imagine. As he completed the process, he took a deep breath in and admired the small white crystal that he'd created.

In that moment, he felt deep in his soul that his phone was ringing. Despite being as naked as the day he was born, and his phone being nowhere in sight, he knew it was ringing--and he knew exactly who was calling him. Indeed, as a trail of vis surged into the sky from one of the skyscrapers in the city his suspicions were confirmed, and he waited for a count of two before teleporting directly to its location.


“...thr--....”
"--ee!"

He chimed in, chipper as ever, as he appeared exactly on cue. He wouldn't have called it a ritual per se between him and Reates, but there was always an odd sort of synchronicity between them whenever they managed to get together. Of course, it was normally in far less foreboding circumstances than these, but there was always something odd happening when they had cause to meet--that was simply the way of things, for them.

"So... What the fuck was that?" he asked, pointing into the distance where the explosion had begun. He figured that if either of them were more equipped to answer that question it would be Reates. Then, he immediately shivered, remembering that it was fairly cold and he was butt naked. With a thoughtful nod, he summoned a potion that looked almost like bottled fire and drunk half of it, his skin lighting up a rosy red as warmth flooded his body. Then, he offered the vial to Reates, giving him a look that very plainly said: "Yes, this is obviously the way to fix being cold when naked and outside. What else would you do?"


”Better question. Why was that,” he answered as if it were the most obvious thing imaginable. So obvious in fact that he didn’t even turn to look upon Nabri, his gaze still locked on the unnaturally bright night sky.

”From what I can tell it certainly weren’t a proper bomb. No notable aircraft on the skyline nor human make-up. Just vis, loads and loads of vis.” He shook his head and closed his eyes, bringing his glasses back up to rest upon his nose and behind his ears.

He opened his eyes and took a step back onto thin air, nearly plummeting off the roof, or rather...he had stepped entirely off the roof, but magic and quick wits had saved him. ”Ah. Well, ye’d think the more startling thing to see were the explosion, but Nabri...you’re positively glowing tonight.” Reates grinned, ”Are you tryin’ a new potion regimen?”

His gaze gravitated to the potion in the Precursor’s hand and his eyes lit up--metaphorically, seeing as his eyes already glow...all the time. Obviously. ”Ah, that’d be the regimen then,” he said, flicking his wrist in a practiced motion. The potion was promptly drawn across the space between them by a single thin tendril of vis attached to Reates’ wrist. As he caught the bottle and began to down the rest of its contents the vis dispersed as quickly as it had formed.

Once it was drained, Reates held it at length from his face and squinted into it as if trying to see if there were any remaining contents...despite it being clear. ”Well, now I’m just bloody warm,” he said with the briefest of mock frowns, a smile still glittering in his eyes. He tossed the vial back to Nabri and cast his gaze back at the sky. ”Well. I know this can’t’ve been a licentia. One this powerful would’ve been in the news before, not to mention on the boards for IHO,” he stated rather matter of factly.

Absently he made a petting motion on the air beside him, falling silent as he did. About thirty awkward seconds of complete silence passed before a cat made entirely of crystal hopped up onto the top of the building, walked onto an invisible platform of vis, and sat in exactly the correct position for Reates’ hand to begin petting it.

Reates continued talking, ”Probably not a prae either, given that it looks like the explosion was centered on one o’ their embassies.” He cast a sidelong glance at Nabri, ”Any ideas? Questions? Comments? Concerns? Quaffles?” He nodded to himself as if Nabri had responded and snapped his finger, conjuring his favorite brandy and--inexplicably--something from one of Nabri’s glorious shelves. He took a sip and then another.

It was good. Tad hot though. Was his mouth literally on fire? No, it was fine.

Everything was fine.

Actually, his mouth was on fire. Brandy did not interact very well with that particular potion--by coincidence or design?--and the sensation Reates was feeling was essentially acid reflux, but if he were a dragon.

Reates pondered, as he casually breathed fire from his nostrils and mouth, was he a dragon?

“No.” Nabri mentally interjected, reminding him that come-to-the-lab-dressed-as-a-dragon day was Wednesday. Sometimes.

"Mmm. I've never seen ambient vis pulled to a location on that scale or with that intensity before--especially not as a method of spellcraft!" Nabri responded after mulling over Reates' comments. He held out his palm and presented the crystallised vis from the shockwave that reached Ominar, a twinkling fragment of milky opaque whiteness, interspersed with faint lines of red. Though he had made the crystal, he could not really glean anything of particular value from it--such things were, regrettably, not his specialty. That was why he had Reates!

"... an Exeo was visiting Solhavre tonight, right? I'm sure I read that somewhere..." Nabri mused, furrowing his brow and summoning his phone--smirking as he saw the missed call from Reates--before flicking through several articles at once and finding mention of the Exeo's visit. He pointed the screen vaguely in Reates' direction while he turned towards the smoking ruins of the former city, his expression hardening in a moment of revelation.

"Assassination?" he offered, a tentative theory to ponder while Reates delved into the magic. He couldn't offer anything that Reates simply couldn't do better when it came to the in-depth analysis of vis usage, but his social contacts were far more developed--and those were avenues that needed to be explored to piece together what had just happened. His fingers became a flurry of activity, tapping to and fro along keys, and then a quick call was made and Nabri held the phone out, pressing the speakerphone button, and waiting for a couple of seconds as the call connected and was promptly answered.

"Combien de morts?" How many dead?
"Cent cinquante mille. Toutes les personnes." 150,000. Everyone.
"Merci." My condolences.
Click.

Nabri let a moment of silence hang in the air--a profound silence, shared only between the two of them, atop the skyscraper. This far up, the sound of the city below was muted--only the faint blare of sirens and the whipping of the wind reached them as the emergency authorities rushed to the outskirts of the city where the destruction was the worst. Then, a couple of vibrations in rapid succession, and Nabriales confirmed his theory of assassination with a few simple words across the screen. As he read them, he built up the magic in the tips of his fingers and the same rosy glow that flushed his cheeks spread through into his horns, angry red sparkles and crackles spilling forth from the cracks as the phone in his hands begun to melt and was set aflame. He let it drop from the edge of the building and turned back to Reates.

No words, then. He had heard the phone call. He knew what had happened.

Where they went to research the magic was up to him.


Any joy had drained from the mage’s face as the death toll was uttered over the phone.
Reates took another swig of brandy, despite the literal fire in his mouth. He let out a long breath and it would’ve appeared a somber gesture, were he not breathing fire. Frowning, the mage snapped his fingers and the interaction ceased, returning his breath to a more mundane state.

He could feel Nabriales looking to him for a bit of direction. “This does not bode well,” he said, the dragon gone, though there was a quiet sort of anger roiling beneath the surface. It was an emotion that even Nabri--one of the man’s closest associates and even friends--would never have seen him display in truth. “We’ll go to one of your labs,” he said blandly, his accent less thick than usual. His characteristic mirth having dropped entirely away. His green eyes danced with fire and an aura of feral vis coruscated off of him. Stepping back onto the skyscraper, rather than hanging in thin air, Reates spared Nabri one glance and then swiped his hand across the air horizontally. There was a blinding flash of light and vis and he was gone.

They would reconvene at the lab. It appeared they had an assassin to identify.
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Plans Come Crashing Down: Final Part


Location: One Night in Hell→ Exiting
Time: Evening- Opening



Mercy


“It shouldn't take two fully grown men to deal with a child,” Masha said as she approached, her expression showing her displeasure at the scene. “Get her off the floor. You're making a scene.”

She then looked at Killian and added, “and find out what she was up to.”

Mercy’s angry eyes snapped toward Masha’s words. Red hot rage filled her soul then spread through her veins, threatening to burn away her resolve to escape. More than anything, the girl wanted to lash out at the woman before her. Iron filled her taste buds from the amount of pressure she applied to her tongue causing it to bleed.

Meanwhile, Killian shifted quietly at Masha's words. Mercy noticed his figure was filled with guilt and nerves, adding in concern for what she could guessed was because of the Licenti’s change in behavior. The whole situation appeared to put him on the edge and only increased her own frustration. Mercy fell into silence while Damian talked back to his boss with strained patience. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of enjoyment until he turned his temper upon the woman.

Her body tensed when he lifted her closer to him, her blood’s temper dropped down to ice cold. The fear wrapped around her throat where it tried to slice off her air supply. Damian could feel the trembling start in her skin as she braced for an attack, honestly believing he was going to eat her here and now.

“There’s a bomb in the bathroom…,” Her words rushed out of her before she could catch them.

With no warning, her body’s solidness suddenly vanished when she jerked out of Damian’s grasp. A bright glow could be seen from her hand where she held her foci tightly in a fist. The spell would only last a few moments for her escape, her figure bolted for the nearest wall then phased right through it.

Killian


Killian’s eyes widened at the words. His expression twisted into something between horror and shock, disappearing the moment Mercy moved. He rushed to the restrooms as the words pushed him onward, his long legs ate up the distance. His head turned back long enough to shout at Masha and Damian.

“Damian, get everyone out of here. Now!” He hoped they wouldn’t argue with him while he retraced Mercy’s steps. His figure pushed into the crowd, his position betrayed only by the numerous patrons being shoved aside in his haste.

He got about five feet from the restroom when all hell broke loose.

A loud, ear deafening boom erupted. The dance floor music was suddenly lost in the vibrations causing the DJ to abruptly stop, his eyes turned to the restroom’s direction. Suddenly iron, wood, and plaster flew out into the crowd’s nearest edges. Anyone nearest the restrooms found themselves targeted by the debris path. This included Killian, Masha, and Damian. Several others, including Killian, went down. They had the wind knocked out of them.

He managed to let out one short-lived yell before he was abruptly clipped by a huge rebar into his chest. He fell backward, his back hitting the floor and blood seeped out through the bar’s exit on the other side. Screaming filled the club as the strobe lights died. Sprinklers went off and dowsed the still stunned clubgoers followed by the alarm. The need to survive consumed their common sense sending them into a panic.

Men and women alike began to claw their way toward the only untouched exit: the entrance. Others, victims of the debris, stumbled about the aftermath. Some helping others that had rebar or wood embedded into their bodies. In short… the scene was total and utter chaos for those caught up in it.
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Masha


Arc 2 Day 2
{ ONIH | About 8 pm }

@Raijinslayer

“There's a what?” what's asked, her tone implying that she had heard her just fine she just wanted her to tell her she'd heard wrong. But thankfully, Killian wasn't as dumbfounded as she was and sprang into action. She watched him go before she tried looking back for the girl.

Who was gone.

Masha didn't have time to process all of that before the explosion happened. The light reached her first in the silence left by the DJ stopping. Not that she was certain that she'd be able to hear that right then anyways. She had a split second to think about how learning at least a basic ward would have been a really helpful thing for her to have done before she was in the moment of exploding bombs. But then there wasn't anything hitting her when she had expected it to and a quick glance to Damian told her that the Nightwalker had extended his enough to minimize the impact as much as he could.

But even his wasn't enough to stop everything and the shock wave knocked her flat down and she was showered with bits of wood, glass, and just everything that had been in the path of the explosion.

And with the shock wave came the sound and she curled in on herself to protect her body more as she waited for things to stop flying about everywhere.

When things seemed reasonably died down, or at least the bomb portion of it, she sat herself up and shook a deal of drywall dust out of her head and looked around and tried to assess what was the best thing for her to do in this chaos that was her grand reopening.

And that's when it hit her who it had to have been to set that little girl up to this. Cortes. He just wanted to tear her down. And she was even more determined to rip him to pieces now.

With that rage and adrenaline fueling her, she stood up, kicked off the other heel that hadn't been knocked off and got to getting things under control, getting her minions and staff that were able bodied to doing the work they needed to before emergency services arrived.

Starting with Damian who was the closest to her. “Damian,” she called, her own ears ringing just then, as she took steps that were more confident than they should have been through the debris. “Damian can you stand?”

{} {} {}


@13org

Rich Axford

He had been fully removed from what was going on in the club around him just then. The only things he felt were Coriann, her lips, teeth, claws in his flesh. All he hear was her whispering and murmuring to him.

Did he fear her? Yes. Oh very much yes. But did that mean he wanted her to stop? He...he wasn't quite sure on that. Fear and sanity told him that he should have her stop. ‘Wanting to keep his job’ logic also said he should at the very least tell her to wait until his shift was over and he'd even be sure to give her a discount on drinks or whatever. Because he knew that if there was one thing his boss might understand was plying someone to get laid. None of that logic mattered to him right then.

“Don’t stop,” he said just before everything went from blissful pleasure to chaos.
Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by 13org
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One Night in Hell Club, Bar area.

Day 2 (Arc 2): Around 9pm

A mischievous, but satisfied smile appeared on her face as he heard Rich's words as she stopped plunging her claws on his abdomen. Rich was almost a perfect meal, a perfect toy for Corinna...

"Correct answer, my precious prey, my precious toy" Corinna said, as she approached her face to his to kiss him again, before being interrupted by the explosion.

The music suddenly stopped as a loud sound echoed through the club, followed by silence, then the panicked screams of all the other people who were enjoying the nightclub just as she was. Corinna herself didn't care at all about the others, but she was genuinely annoyed by the fact that someone interrupted her little fun with Rich...

"Tsk... Why something had to happen now? Of all the times, it had to happen now?" She said to herself, looking around with an annoyed expression on her face.

"You are mine, Rich... I'm the only one allowed to hurt you." She said, caressing his face with her claws.

"Unfortunately, we will have to continue this another time..." Corinna said, getting up as she quickly closed the large wound between his ribs using her silk and her sharp claws to close the wound. The sticky, but resistant silk would be enough to both stanch the bleeding and ensure it would heal correctly.

"Don't worry, it won't leave a scar... Although if you want something to remember me, I can give you one when we meet again..." Corinna said again as she put his arm above her shoulders, helping him to stand, albeit she did so without even caring about his weight. The thought that such a delicate woman like her was strong enough to maybe even carry Rich and still move with such dexterity, agility and grace was certainly hard to believe... But again, Rich had many other things to think about at that moment.

"The toxin will soon stop making effect. I injected you with only a small amount of tranquilizing venom. Can you walk yet? Come, we need to get out of here... Oh, and let's make this night's events a secret just between the two of us, ok?" Corinna said, running her sharp claws along his neck in a menacing way as she smiled mischievously, slowly licking the blood dripping from the cuts on his face once more.

"You've been a good boy tonight, Rich... So I will give you one more choice... I can take you to my mansion tonight, or I can simply leave you on a safe location nearby the entrance of the club..." Corinna said, as she looked directly to him, eagerly waiting for his answer.

"This time, no tricks and no strings attached, no consequences, whatever it may be your choice." Corinna said, looking to him, eagerly awaiting his answer.

It didn't matter how many times you thought about what had just happened, she was simply indecipherable... She not only could kill you, but would certainly do it if you haven't answered her the exact answer she wanted to hear a few minutes ago and certainly drank a lot of blood and absorbed quite an amount of vis, but now, she was even taking care of you, making sure the biggest wound wouldn't keep bleeding and even wanting to get you out of that place... Maybe it was because she considered you her property, as she said that you were her toy...

@May
Hidden 5 mos ago Post by The 42nd Gecko
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Katarina


I hold onto the notion that I just wasn’t born to die
~Just outside that Club that just Exploded~


"Today just isn't this city's day, is it?" Katarina frowned. When the explosion rocked the club, many an ear was ringing. So was Katarina's, to be sure, even though she had just been walking by the door. But it was not the noise and chaos and infectious panic that halted her step, but empathetic concern. She quickly swiveled and took a spot against a wall close to the door as people fled. Even though her vision should have been tunneling as base fear took hold, such things simply couldn't find purchase on her jaded mind. What could find purchase was the quiet despair over the fact that this was the second explosion to hit her city just today. It seemed practically beyond saving. What was the point in saving a few if the city'd probably blow up in a month? Still, even though she wanted to leave town, she couldn't let this happen right in front of her.

She calmly waited by the door as the masses flooded out. Pulling up her phone, she activated melded her mind with it, storing away the memories of her little thought experiment about creating a Vis Targeting Virus to attack the Prae. Wouldn't want anyone getting fussy. That could be inconvenient. Then, she melded with the cameras inside the building, seeing the number of wounded. She might, might be able to stabilize everyone but... Eh, might as well just go all the way and get it done properly.

As the tide of those fleeing the building finally began to show gaps, Katarina slipped in. When your mind was running at quadruple speed, it was relatively easy to weave in and out of the crowd easily, especially when the frame you were using was just a tad faster than most. Every little bit helped.

Finally arriving on the scene, as quick as she was reasonably certain as she could have without shoving people down, she made her statement, in as loud and clear a voice as she could muster. "I'm a healer! But I don't have enough Vis to heal everybody. Anybody with some Vis to spare, or who is wounded, would you mind accepting my psychic invitation?" She didn't have big hopes that her one voice would be able to quell the chaos, but even if one or two heard her, that'd give her a lot more to work with. So she activated her Omni-Informational Interface with everyone nearby. It'd start with just a simple ping of sorts 'Are you willing or wounded?'. And for those who let their mental defenses down and said 'yes', well, then the fun would begin.

Presuming anyone was willing to let a stranger poke around in their minds, they'd get added to Katarina's mental network. The wounded would have their senses analyzed to determine where they were and how badly they were injured and where. Normally pain made that a difficult task, but this pain was practically mundane to Katarina, and she had no trouble at all sorting through despite it, and then compartmentalizing that pain away from the mind network. If those injured happened to have sufficient vis themselves to heal themselves, just not the know how or presence of mind, Katarina would allow them access to her Medical interface as she calmed their minds, to allow them to remove any shrapnel and begin healing. Similarly, any volunteers would have the eerie, strange access to a set of memories and knowledge that definitely wasn't their own, the medical know how of how to cast healing spells. Katarina was really hoping that the odds were in her favor and the 20-50% of people that learned at least a little magic was in her favor. She figured she'd only need a couple alright magicians to turn this from a tragedy into a tragedy averted. Even just organizing the random help so they weren't working at cross purposes would be wonderful.

Of course, if no one was down for that, she'd just have to triage and stabilize as best she could using the intel from the cameras.

@13org@May@Fallenreaper@Raijinslayer
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Amon Relmeral

Arc 2: Day 2
One Night in Hell
@The 42nd Gecko

Amon had been having a fairly good night. The bar was rather pleasant, the atmosphere was nice, he'd gotten the number of a cute girl, and he was trying some drink he'd never had before, at half the price too! All in all it was shaping up to be a good night. It was at least, before some yelling occurred, Amon ignored it, but it turned out to be the calm before the storm. Amon wasn't exactly sure what the source of the storm was, but a storm it most certainly was. Before Amon could put his drink down a deafening blare of sound and force rippled across the building, knocking Amon off his seat, and his head promptly into the floor.

After some period of time, Amon was unsure exactly how long, he found himself lying on the floor. Upon attempting to move he was subsequently informed by his body there was a rather sizable piece of rubble on his chest, there was a very sensitive bump on his head, and his right hand was in incredible pain. From what he could see, at least one of his fingers was pointing the wrong way, the sight of it giving Amon a most uneasy and nauseous feeling.

Taking this information into account Amon let out a whimper of pain and freed his chest from the confining material with his left hand, in a very slow and careful fashion, as to not cause more undue pain. Wounds in the form of minor pain like small burns, stubbed fingers, and kicks to the shin he was familiar with, this not so much.

Amon found to his relief that breathing was now much easier, with a literal weight off his chest, but still difficult due to the dust in the air. It seemed his spot at the bar had been as good one as any, as the counter had crudely sheltered him when he had fallen off his seat. After laying there for a few moments, considering just how and why his perfectly good night, as well as job prospect was ruined, a 'ping' went through his mind, like his brain was receiving a telephone call.

Willing or Wounded

Willing and Wounded, Amon responded to the mental telephone, hoping that his attempt at sending a clear message back through was successful. Was this thing two-way? Healing was out of the question for him, but he had a reasonable amount of Vis that would be more helpful to whoever was playing telephone then to him at the moment and Amon was more than willing to share.
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Plans Come Crashing Down Part 3


Location: One Night in Hell→ Exiting
Time: Evening- Opening



Lily & Afua


Afua shoved off the stone piece pinning her leg down. It thudded hard and kicked dust up in its landing, her bone undamaged. Her head throbbed like crazy causing her hand to cradle her forehead. She glanced about to get her bearings a moment. Though the damage didn’t topple the roof down on top of everyone, it was obvious a bomb went off in here.

Several overhead lights had come crashing down into the dance floor. The surface was littered with broken metal, concrete, and shattered glass. Electricity sparked from disconnected wires. They hissed like wild snakes in plain view, ready to bite anyone daring to get near enough. Ignoring the throbbing headache pounding away, she began to raise upright on her wobbly feet. It was too dangerous to remain here.

The few remaining survivors had begun to come together and assist those worse off. It was a rare glimpse of humanity’s better side.

Afua didn’t waste time admiring it. She shook off the daze in her brain as she reached for her pendant, gathering her Vis within it. She began to summon a familiar beast to her side. Her undead lion, nicknamed Sizwe, began to materialized into solid form. His decaying flesh looked more dried out than in the weeks before, subtly reflecting the preservation techniques she had been improving on. The mane had thinned out with patches torn out nearest his back. Along his shriveled flank were several bullets to knife marks, all stitched close. Jerky-like muscle and bone showed through the peeling flesh, his muzzle forever sealed in a crooked, unnatural 'sneer'.

Afua uttered some swear words in her native language while dusting herself off.

“Shit… if I ever find out who did this, I’ll rip their voice box out,” Lily hissed, her arms struggled to push off a metal bar pinning her in place.

“Lily, is that you?"

"Help me, please. Afua!"

Afua rushed over, carefully navigating to the fallen siren, "Is anything broken?"

“No, but I’m pretty sure a rebar found its way into my side and penetrated pretty deeply,” Lily said through gritted teeth. She moved just enough for Afua to spot the end sticking out of her lower torso, the blood hidden by her crimson dress.

Nikki


Nikki heard the bottles exploded before she felt the glass embedded into her exposed flesh. Tiny shards had cut through her outfit causing superficial wounds across her back. She screamed as she tossed herself into the ground, stunned by the bomb’s shockwave. When the rumble died and the dust cleared, she bravely edged out of her protective ball. Slowly her arms lowered from shielding her face while she pulled upright.

She looked down, noticing the small red lines on her arms and legs. However, everything seemed in order while she reached for the counter. Her fingers clamped down before she pulled herself to her feet, silently thanking she was a bartender here. It seemed the counter had shielded her from most of the aftermath. All around, those able to stand began to mill around. Some helping others and the rest trying to escape the nightmare the club had become.

"I'm a healer! But I don't have enough Vis to heal everybody. Anybody with some Vis to spare, or who is wounded, would you mind accepting my psychic invitation?"

“And who the hell are you?” Nikki's mind bluntly asked, her lips curled into a frown and eyeing the air where she suspected the disembodied voice originated from. She was wondering if she had been knocked on the head a bit too hard.

Darius


Outside the club, the winds began to gradually pick up. Snow continued to fall lazily toward the ground causing drifts to build among the dirty streets of Ominar. By now, most of them had been trampled into slush by the patrons moving inside. Poorly kept street lamps tried to chase away the darkness only to fuel its power. Its shitty light barely illuminated Darius’ furless skin with a slight yellow tint. His hands pressed deeper into his pockets, shielding them from the chilly air while watching the line slowly dwindling down. The fox silently cursed his decision to change his mind last minute. Afua was right, the place was packed.

For being intelligence, he made many recent mistakes he couldn’t afford lately. This one was the largest one yet. If someone recognized or followed him back, things would become more complicated than ever. Ignoring the feeling nagging at him to turn back, Darius’ attention sought any distraction. Instinctively he turned to the skies above the city. Grey storm clouds had begun to collect mysteriously over Ominar where they lingered despite the wind’s will. It was strange enough to cause some concern to grow within his chest.

Shrugging his every increasing anxiety off, Darius’ eyes shift back to the club’s entrance.

What happened next caught him completely off guard. A low rumbled ripped across the crowd, drowning out their noise and silencing them instantly. Those patrons closest to the club entrance quickly found themselves knocked off their feet as others rushed out. Some were covered in their own blood and nursing various wounds. Others were just rushing away to escape.

Confusion and chaos filled the street while some tried to help the victims who had managed to make it outside. Darius, caught in the impact area, shook his head loose from the ringing anchored in his hearing. As the haze cleared, his figure began to rise from his kneeling position. A subtle growl emitted under his breath as one name came to mind: Cortes. He would benefit the most from an incident like this, but proving it would be difficult. Especially with Licenti hatred rising thanks to recent events.

Darius shoved through the fleeing crowd. He was heading toward the club’s entrance, unconcerned about the danger or any possible injury. His eyes searched for Masha among the survivors. Some were being picked up and helped by good samaritans, tending to the wounds. Many of those outside were concerned and curious about what happened, questioning those individuals healthy enough to answer. Darius just ignored them while he continued deeper inside.
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Masha


Arc 2 Day 2
{ ONIH | About 8 pm }


@fallenreaper

While she waited for Damian to respond a voice sounded in her head. But she didn't have time for that. There were enough other people there who could deal with that and not as many like her. In charge of this whole thing to being with.

Shaking off the voice, closing at least part of mind off as best she could, she turned her eyes around the room, seeing what else she needed to do. As she looked her vision caught sight of someone very familiar. At first she brushed it off and kept looking, doubting that it could possibly be him. But then she looked again, just to make sure.

“Darius,” she murmured to herself, blinking in surprise. It was him. But not in his normal form. Not in one that anyone but her had probably seen.

“My fox,” she called to him in her native tongue, something that she had often murmured to him when they were alone together and she was being sweetly affectionate. Something that he would know was her as she stood up a little taller, wincing in a bit of pain, and waving to him to help get his attention.

{} {} {}


@13org

Rich Axford

He was a little startled by what was going on with her, surprised by the relief he felt when she sealed the wound in his side. He groaned lowly as she kissed him, big hands pulling her closer to him before they were off and he was half drunkenly standing with her asking him a question again.

“ah…” he started, blinking and trying to figure out if this was a test or not. She said no strings, but was she saying that because she wanted him to choose her or not?

But before he answered further he pulled a pen and a slightly faded receipt out of his wallet, scribbling down his phone number in a very unsteady hand. “Whenever,” he mumbled when he handed it over to her with a slightly drunk looking smile. “But I think...I should stay…”

He hoped that was the right answer. Enough for her to know he wasn't going to say no to more later or anything.
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Aftermath - Part 2

Ominar - The Archytas Club
Collab between @CorrosiveCherry @Tuujaimaa @Celaira @yoshua171


As the time passed and the city began to recover, a motley crew of individuals found themselves--almost inexplicably--drawn together. Crow was one such individual and perhaps more than any other, he had paid attention to each new member and exactly how they were brought into the group. With each he noted some unifying aspect. These were all humans like Yvette. Humans a step beyond.

The slightest of smiles played across his lips.

’How very peculiar,’ he thought, but he mentioned nothing to his new companions. Instead, he merely suggested they find a better place to talk, perhaps somewhere more private. Gently, giving Yvette some cues here and there, he guided them to a particular location near the center of the city. Though it was with the convenience of magic that they traversed the distance, rather than by vehicle or foot.

Stepping onto the sidewalk and rounding a corner they’d come upon an unassuming building. However, at the door, Crow provided identification for himself--vouching for those with him--before the door was opened and they were admitted inside.

Just past the entry was a lobby and while there was a receptionist, he waved them off and led them deeper into the building. Eventually after a few turns and the opening of a door, they would enter a rather large and ornate room. It was decorated with the finest upholstery and furniture, though it was mostly sensible and modern. There were plenty of places to sit and rather oddly, a fireplace that was already on. There was a mini-bar in one corner that appeared to be stocked with all manner of drinks, not all of them alcoholic.

“Sit anywhere reasonable,” he said casually, “...and feel free to drink. Just ask if it’s from the top shelf. Those are...special.”

That said he found his second favorite spot and sat down in the soft seat, lounging back into it, hands folded neatly in his lap.

In Nabri's mind, using one's feet or a vehicle to travel was utterly barbaric. A primitive analogue of movement for a primitive people - and he was certainly of the opinion that all of the individuals in the little liaison they had cobbled together were better than that. Crow's navigation through the Maze of Shadows was superb--he expected no less--but upon arrival the fact that there was no obnoxious poofing noise startled him noticeably. It took him mere seconds to rectify this by teleporting himself a few feet to the side and creating an extra loud poof.

Unintentionally, it sounded vaguely similar to an explosion, and he took a second to consider it before remembering Solhavre and apologising profusely to everyone in the area with the beginnings of a smirk upon his face.

As Crow showed his ID to the doorman, vouching for the other members of their impromptu gathering, Nabri in particular took a second to flip through his mental catalogue of IDs and summoned one labeled "The Archytas Club", showing that to the doorman who nodded in recognition of his membership within the exclusive club. Indeed, a club could not truly be considered exclusive unless Nabriales was a part of it. Nabri actually visited very few of the illustrious establishments that he was a member of, but this club in particular was one he had sent various go-betweens and messengers to in his somewhat extended dealings with Crow in the past. Indeed, information had made Crow strong in the past century or two that he'd been active within Ominar; Nabri had kept an eye on his network of influence out of curiosity, and even for one as experienced as him in matters of subtlety and espionage the extent of his presence in Ominar was hard to read.

With a wave of his hand, he summoned his favourite chair and a bottle of expensive champagne--along with substantially more expensive vis crystal champagne flutes--appeared on the table (sans vaguely offensive poofing noise) they had gathered around, filled to an appropriate level.

"No offence, hon, but I don't think the quality of beverage here is quite up to my standards."

Taking a sip from the flute in his hand, Nabriales elected to begin the conversation:

"I suppose the question on everyone's lips is simple, hmm? Who--or what--made that explosion? I have never seen vis of that magnitude and concentration, and I have certainly never seen a being capable of such a feat."


As the group arrived at the club, Yvette’s eyes trailed over each individual. Especially her mother. As they walked into the building, she nodded to the bouncer, and receptionist both. She had met both of them the first time she’d been there 3 and a half years ago. She said nothing as they were taken to an all too familiar room. Once they were inside, and Crow sat down, she found a perch herself across the table from him, her legs crossed one over the other. She needn’t be barraged with yet more questions about what she and Crow were doing together.

As Nabri spoke, Yvette reached for a small glass of what appeared to be raspberry moscato, and took a delicate sip. “Likewise.” Her voice was curt, but gentle even as she took another sip of her drink. Once more, her sienna eyes trailed across the faces of each individual in the room, her pale white locks shifting slightly with imperceptible movements that she made. “Crow,” She addressed her compatriot, setting her glass on a coaster on the table. “Could this have been caused by a Licentia? Or do you think it might’ve been something else?”

Waiting for his response, she glanced at her mother, meeting her eyes calmly. “What about you, Mother? Have you seen anything like this before?”

Fandaniel's entrance to the club was largely lackluster. She moved stiffly, clearly out of her social depth, and stuck closely to Yvette. As Nabriales created that obnoxious poofing noise she audibly heaved out a sound so laced with disapproval it could only be described as a disgusted noise. She resisted the urge to punch him squarely in the jaw and simply walked past him into the club, paying absolutely no heed to the doorman. He gave her that stern look that any doorman gives a perceived undesirable and she returned a withering glare that invited him to try and stop her from entering. Seeing sense (and the full plate armour that she wore), he did not press the issue and simply allowed her passage under Crow's orders.

As she joined everyone in the room, she took a seat and dragged it closer to Yvette than either of them felt comfortable with, and fixed her with her best motherly stare for a few seconds before taking a glass of champagne and necking it, then taking Yvette's glass of champagne and holding it awkwardly. As Nabriales described the explosion, her expression softened and sombered--thinking about Solhavre--before returning to its usual stony and dour state. At Yvette's behest, she spoke up:

"Never. It broke my antimagic shield--something no spell I have ever encountered has done." She added, having very little else to say on the matter and motioning for the next individual to speak up.

A brief, palpable moment of silence passed. Conspicuously absent was the tiny slip of a girl, nary a hair nor hide of her fuzzy little head to be seen.
Naomi was--on this rare occasion--late. When silence took control over the room, attention was passed not to the next person, but the burblings behind the door.
”What? No. I can’t just… Hand them off. They’re attached to my ostium. If I drop them, they’re going to hit the ground like a ton of bricks. No--what? Identification? Do I look like I have the pockets to carry around stuff I didn’t know I’d need? Move your butt.”
An obnoxiously loud CLICK-CLUNK followed as the door’s simple tumbler lock busted open under the measured torque of a single gauntlet.
”Hey, you can’t do that--”
”I don’t know how to tell you this, but I already did.”
The door swung open, revealing a disconcerted bouncer and a tiny fox-featured girl in the gateway.
”I’m with them. Sorry about the lock! Someone will fix it, eventually, and it’ll have exactly nothing to do with me.” Nao stated matter-of-factly, brushing past the guard and closing the now-broken door behind her. It chose not to remain closed. Now unable to properly shut, it creaked slowly back open, leaving the same guard staring helplessly at the whirlwind of activity that had just transpired. Naomi, thankfully, was nothing without her cleverness. Pulling a book from a nearby shelf, she quickly placed the almanac in the arc of the door’s swing, like a makeshift doorstop.
”So I have good news, great news, terrible news, and bad news.

“Good news is that my bird is fed. Great news is that I now know that I can break locks with a good old-fashioned twist.
Terrible news is that I have zero idea what the hell that explosion was, and neither do the Chayi.”
Naomi held up her white, leather-bound journal, fraught with notes and dog-ears.

”A couple thousand years of written research on runes has shown diddly.” She placed the book upon a coffee table near the center of the circle, seating herself nearby.
”...And the bad news is that I’m internet famous. I… Might have waltzed through a licentia protest on my way home. And… I have spent the past hour deleting my social media presence. The number of throwaway email addresses I have at this point is unbelievably fucked. Also, I broke their door, so someone might have to cough up for that.” Naomi reclined in her seat, Aldous and George taking up sentry upon either side of her, as they always did.

Reaching into one of her dress pockets--it was a thing that could hardly be called a coat--she produced her smartphone, quickly tapping away as she quickly found the evidence that she’d accrued.

”Has someone already thrown out the “licentia” card? Because if so, I’m deeply unimpressed. I’ve been talking to a lot of licenti, and watching the ‘net for posts. The sentiments about the… What are we calling this? Bombing?” Naomi’s gaze flitted back up to meet the group, now making unimpeded eye contact.

”Point is, licentia on a broad scale aren’t pissed at the prae because they support the bombing. They’re pissed because the prae seem to be blaming them wholesale. Have any of you seen the hashtag that’s trending? Because, hoo, boy, you would be impressed. Hashtag-Sol-Hav-Prae. Great pun. Awful rhetoric.” Nao waggled her phone to punctuate her point, offering a knowing look to the group as a whole.

”So that being said, the coastline’s doing better already but things are still completely tits-up. How is everyone else doing today? Because I could use a drink or five. We’re dealing with vis usage on a pretty unimaginable scale, here. I can only hope that this was a small group of people that caused this, because any one person with this kind of power would be…

Well, they’d be on a kill list for at least one reason. This is bad fucking news we’re talking about.”
Naomi’s sober tone underlined the gravity of the situation, her countenance surprisingly grim for its innocent shape.

She took a deep breath as her phone sunk back into her pocket. ”Tell me someone here knows something that I don’t.”

Listening closely as the others spoke up, Casaeri found his thoughts dragged inexplicably to his time in Torqueo. He recalled beings of inconsiderable power. Particularly a licenti lord who he had not seen for a very...very long time. He intended not to for awhile yet. He wished those gathered had more to offer, though even the smallest tidbits of information could assist him in puzzling through the conundrum that the catastrophic blast had left in its wake.

Mind drifting faintly, he found his perception latching onto what he could only describe as a mildly amusing scuffle back at the entrance to the building. At hearing the late arrival of another guest--and her brief struggle with security--he couldn’t help but allow the smallest of smiles tug at the edges of his lips. It was times like these that he was glad that he was what he was...rather than truly being the human that his visage implied. Glancing towards the door from the corner of his eye as Nao entered the room, he took note of the two giant constructs that floated alongside her.

’Intriguing.’

His gaze turning away, he listened, waiting for her to finish before adding anything further. Absently he channeled a measure of his vis through the unseen and oft undetected maze of shadows. On the other end of the maze, far across the city, another Casaeri formed and went about contacting a vast number of contacts. It was time to do some digging.

Attention shifting back to his primary form, Crow briefly turned his attention to Yvette, “Could one have done this? Certainly. Is it plausible? Hardly. Besides, the vis is all wrong,” he shook his head and took up one of Nabri’s crystal glasses, holding it up to the light to observe.

“If that weren’t enough, the likelihood of a licentia sufficiently powerful to create such a destructive blast being in Medius without us knowing is...well, let’s just call it incredibly low.” He cast his eyes over those assembled and, with a mildly apologetic smile, continued. “Most of those licentia who could do this, simply would not. They would have to be monumentally old to have accrued such vast power and most of such licentia are...less than fond of humans, not to mention sparse in their numbers. That or they’d be apathetic to your kind, let alone the prae. Human or prae politicking is simply not the concern of many of our kind--at least among those who do not dwell among you that is.”

He shook his head and lowered the glass, standing to walk over to the minibar. Without looking back at them he began fetching a few bottles, two of which had been halfway drained already.

“Yvette, would you care for a drink?” He paused then set down one of the bottles and turned to look at Nao, “Ah and what strikes your fancy, madam?” There was a casualness to his voice that lent itself to flirtation, but it would be clear that he was merely being a gentleman.

Yvette watched her mother as she pulled her chair uncomfortably close, and very blatantly put a reasonable amount of space between them by pushing her own seat with her vis. As her mother spoke, she listened intently, only slightly surprised that the explosion had broken through her anti-magic shield. After several moments of silence, the woman leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed in thought.

It was then that a commotion began outside, and she glanced towards the door just as it was being slammed open. She watched silently as another of her cousins entered the room and took a seat. As Naomi spoke about the things she’d seen throughout the day a small lizard-like licentia appeared on Yvette’s shoulder, chirping happily. Absently, she stroked the creature’s fur, and it made its way down her arm into her lap where it then curled up.

When Crow began to speak, Yvette glanced at him, taking in his words calmly. He rebuffed her thought, but it occurred to her that his reasoning didn’t quite make sense. “How do you know that it’s different? We all felt it, there was no feasible way to tell what, or who that vis originated from.” As she spoke, her fingers trailed gently along the scales of the licentia in her lap, bringing her mind to the thought of Torqueo. At the thought, she smiled faintly, her mind drifting to an imperceptibly strong licentia that she had met years before Crow.

As Crow rose from his seat, Yvette glanced up at him again, her eyes following him as he offered her a drink. “Something sweet, if you wouldn’t mind.” Her voice was soft as she responded, the effects of the memory leaving her sounding more warm than she usually did.

Sophia was quietly sitting in the corner of the room, having not spoken for the entirety of the meeting thus far, her bright blue eyes simply roving over the group as they spoke.

“Of course,” Crow said with a faint smile, turning his attention away from them. However, before he managed a response to her query, Nabriales spoke up.

"Resources are being dedicated to understanding what happened. I am conducting my own research when possible, and a close friend of mine is conducting his own far more thorough research! The thing that's bothering me is that your explanations for why a Licentia is likely not responsible make complete sense - I can't imagine any reason why a Licentia capable of such destruction wouldn't just come here and take the fight directly to its source if they were so inclined? Any Licentia powerful enough to do this would not come to Medius at all if they could help it, and they would want to end their business here equally as quickly... So it wasn't a Licentia! If not, what was it? What other beings could feasibly perform such a fear?" Nabriales interjected, seemingly fatigued by the notion of figuring out what was going on.

Nothing particularly made sense about the event at all - and when he thought about it, that was exceedingly strange. Surely Aismael and her cohorts should have said something about it by now? She was not the type of individual to allow the God-Queen's authority (and by extension her authority) to be challenged - and yet there was nothing from the Spire but a bitter chill in the air. If he didn't know better, Nabriales half expected her to know something about what was going on and the reason that she hadn't revealed it thus far was something particularly damning. Of course, this was all wild conjecture, but it would be a particularly good time to begin investigating the prae. He made a mental note to gather the most influential members of the Resistance and begin planning their operations in earnest.

"If none of us know anything, all that remains is for us is to... find out, I guess! Unfortunately, there's not a lot of finding out that I can do here, so I'll be joining my colleague in the lab. Let's get drinks later, though!" Nabri smiled, before obnoxiously poofing himself out of the room (along with his crystal flutes) and getting himself ready to go to the lab. He couldn't remember whether or not today was a come-to-the-lab-dressed-as-a-dragon day, so he decided to bring a shapeshifting potion with him to be prepared. Preparation was key.


Nodding his head to Nabri before he departed, Casaeri headed back to his chair, delivering the requested drinks on his way. Sitting down once more he took a sip from his own glass before setting it down and folding his hands across his lap. “Well, Yvette, I had not entirely intended to speak of it, but I managed to acquire... mmm samples of the vis from ground zero,” he shrugged and met her eyes, his gaze speaking of things to explain in greater detail later before he cast his gaze elsewhere.

Through his mind rushed possibilities and consequences. How would this affect business? At the thought one corner of his lips turned down almost imperceptibly. Yvette would likely be the only one to notice. Perhaps he ought to turn his mind to helping those he could...and discovering who knew what regarding the incident.

“Unless anyone has anything further to add, I do believe that the lot of us have things we could be doing to further our own ends and perhaps discover the reason behind what, for all intents, appears to be an unprovoked attack. Anyone?” He drank again, his eyes glancing between those present as he did so.

Yvette silently acknowledged Crow’s glance, and then set to drinking from the glass that he had set in front of her. It was clear she didn’t have anything else to add.

”I have two things to say, actually. First:” Without even finishing her statement, Naomi rose to her feet, walking straight over to the minibar--Crow’s prior offer was met with a raised finger in his direction, as if halting his reaction for a moment.
”I would never ask anyone to make what I’m about to make for me. I want all of you to judge me as I do this, because it is incredibly important.”
The drink began innocently enough. Peach schnapps. Really, really cheap peach schnapps.
This would become the running theme of the hellish concoction that began to take place inside the mug. Three parts peach schnapps, certainly. One part vodka--an okay choice, perhaps not the best.
Then, she moved to the fridge, pulling out an orange soda. She made eventual eye contact with every single person in the room as she poured two parts of the syrupy-sweet fizzy drink into her hellcup, as if daring them to respond.
Naomi immediately took a swig, pinkie customarily extended.
”Second,” she continued, completely unphased by the high fructose catastrophe that she’d just imbibed,
”I think it’s a fair bit more important to start spreading information as soon as possible. You say pretty resolutely that the vis is ‘all off,’ comma, ‘man,’ as in ‘the man’ because this ‘that sounded super hippie’ joke is getting way too far away from me and hshit did I put too much vodka in this?” Naomi looked at the bottle she’d just blind-poured into the cup.
110 proof.
She cracked a wry grin as her ears lay a little flatter with each passing moment.
”Heeeee. That was a mistake. Okay, so uh… Yeah. You’re sure that the vis was off, right? Well, sensational media ain’tn’t going to be following your tale, mate. Inquiring minds gotta know, right? So here’s the thing we’re going to need to do. Hey, Tall, Dark, and Poofy, you have unnecessary amounts of funds and an accountant with some personal problems, right? How much would it take to get some vis professionals on the air, already voir-dire-and-fine to go, making some points that paint licentia a little prettier?” Naomi’s hand gestures grew wider and wider as the sentence sprinted further and further away from her, to the point that--finally--Aldous smacked a stool clean into the wall.

”Hhhhfuck. I’ll clean that up. No--nope! He’ll clean that up. He looks like he wants to clean that up!” She looked to the bouncer, who was shaking his head more and more furiously as her finger directed itself towards him.

”Oh yeah speaking of, I have a third thing, uh…” Naomi downed the rest of the glass, like a true adult-to-be trying to seem like an adult while having never once heard the words “alcohol” and “restraint” in the same statement.

”Who’s taking me home?”
1x Laugh Laugh
Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by 13org
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13org Stay fresh!

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One Night in Hell Club → Exiting.

Day 2 (Arc 2): Around 9pm

It was obvious that Rich was confused, not only about what she was thinking, but maybe in shock about the whole situation as well. Normally, she wouldn't let go of her prey that easily, but truth be told... She had taken a liking to Rich. His Vis was simply delectable and his reactions... a perfect mix between fear and pleasure made Corinna even more curious about his 'tastes'...

Corinna couldn't help but let out a mischievous smile when Rich wrote his phone number on a faded receipt with an unsteady hand. She could feel his eyes, carefully studying her expression, her reaction... Waiting to see if he had said the correct answer. But just like she had promised, this time, there were no strings attached.

"Delightful." Corinna said, whispering as she swiftly got the faded receipt with her long, sharp fingers.

"Your tastes are... interesting. I will keep my eye on you." Corinna said, referring how he was apparently willing to see her again, even after such... 'experience'. Even carrying him, Corinna was moving herself with an almost... inhumane grace and dexterity. Avoiding most of the other confused and wounded people and the rubble from the explosion as she swiftly walked through the nightclub.

But before she could get to the exit, she heard a female voice shouting, followed by a psychic message, which didn't seem to be aggressive, so Corinna simply dismissed it as nothing.

"I'm a healer! But I don't have enough Vis to heal everybody. Anybody with some Vis to spare, or who is wounded, would you mind accepting my psychic invitation?" the strange woman said.

"A healer?" Corinna thought to herself. It would be best if she left Rich with her. At least for now. He wasn't that wounded... Well... At least he wouldn't die just due to the wounds Corinna caused herself... But he was indeed exhausted, especially after Corinna sucked that much Vis from him. At least he would be safe outside. He would probably need only a small rest before he was ok again.

"You'll only need to rest a bit. You won't die, don't worry. I'll take you outside." Corinna said as they got near the entrance. Although it was rather hard to walk through it due to the number of panicked people trying to get out, Corinna was able to swiftly go through the confusion.

As she got out of the club with Rich, her image almost didn't seem to make part of the scene. Amongst other panicked people, many wounded or dirty due to the explosion, Corinna was not only unscathed, but her vibrant, provocative red dress was exactly the same way it was when she came in the club. Saving for a few... darker spots which seemed awfully familiar to blood.

Right outside, starting to tend to the wounded, Corinna and Rich would meet a red haired young woman. Apparently, she was the owner of both the voice that shouted a while back and possibly the mental message as well. But she was already tending to so many people that Corinna simply choose to not go to her. After all, Rich wasn't that wounded. Weak and exhausted, yes, but not dying.

"You can walk, can't you, my dear Rich?" Corinna asked, putting Rich down.

"Rest well, my little prey... I will call you." Corinna said, with a mischievous smile before she started walking away. A lone figure getting out of the destroyed nightclub, completely unscathed and untouched by the debris. Her red dress as vibrant and beautiful as it was when she came in.

@May
Hidden 4 mos ago Post by The 42nd Gecko
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~The Grand Exploding Bar Collab~


“I’m a healer. If you don’t want to help through me, then help people on your own and let me focus.” Katarina snapped back, before her thoughts turned again to other things. She hadn’t really hoped she’d get everybody in her network. But, well, one was one more than none, even if he’d be spending most of his vis on himself probably, from the extent of the injuries.

“I really must’ve hit my head harder than I thought…” Nikki grumbled, debating on if it was a good idea to play along, “Fine, imaginary voice in my head, how do you intend on doing that?”

“I can share my casting with other people so they can cast healing magic, and I can remove their pain so they can think clearly. I can also coordinate those with vis to spend with those who are wounded.”

“Fine, why not.”

“Amon, Nikki, here’s how to use healing and triage magic. Help yourself or others at your discretion. I’ll help paint the wounded.” They would both feel a strange sensation. Memories that weren’t theirs. Instinct and training they had never had. Suddenly, Amon could tell whether that bump on his head was just a little tenderness, or a concussion that needed treating. The exact way to realign his twisted finger. Nikki could tell how to knit up all those cuts, if she wanted. And the pain was completely gone for both of them, like a vanishing dream. He could still tell where he should be feeling pain, but it wasn’t the sharp blaring alarm of normal pain, simply a subtle reminder, like the pressure of shifting one’s weight or the tingle of a limb fallen asleep without the inability to move it.

But even more disconcerting than that was the sensation of both a second perspective on the world, and highlighted people that were injured. Katarina feeding them intel on those she saw that looked wounded. For her part, she booked it over to a guy who had a rebar sticking through his chest. That was something that warranted immediate treatment, and that she could see. She hoped nobody had gotten slashed through the throat or something.

“Alright.. Not too bad it’s clean straight through, I should still have some vis left after this… Er.. Wait, nope, he’s brain dead..” Katarina gritted her teeth and hoped it would be true. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. She knelt down besides Killian, placing a hand on his shoulder and sending across her vis to the wound, where, directed by her spellcraft and phone optimization, it gave her triage information that, sadly, this one wasn’t recoverable. Her first attempt wasted.

”What a neat trick.” It seemed the voice head had discerned his name as well. Well these things were to be expected when you let someone poke around like that. However, Amon was more interested in the wealth of knowledge that flooded into his head. So the reason he was feeling so detached from everything at the moment was shock. Fascinating. Amon took in and let out a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief in knowing what was wrong with him, how to fix it, and the unique sense of being aware of his pain without it hurting. He could get used to that. More importantly though… Amon’s new knowledge informed him that his head wound was nothing serious, his chest was rather bruised, and his finger on the left hand was just a liiiiitle bit broken. Amon moved his free hand over and inhaled smoothly again; then quickly moved his finger back to where it should be. His second-hand perception of pain informed him that what he had done was very painful and Amon was once again thankful the voice in his head. After that all it took was a small bit of… There! Among released his finger and was pleased to see that it looked normal again. An attempt to move the fingers around it revealed it was still very sensitive and he would likely not be able to move it properly for a while. Of course he could expend more vis to fix it, but Amon suspected that there were others more injured than himself, and to treat such a petty injury when someone could be dying would be rather selfish. Amon cautiously sat up, then made the transition to standing. Between the bout of dizziness that accompanied both actions and his strange detached sense of pain Amon wisely held onto some nearby rubble for support. The helpful voice in his head said it would ‘paint’ the wounded, whate- Oh, that was what that meant. Amon began shuffling over to the nearest person, eager to provide his assistance, but wary of overexerting himself.

Damian, like the others, heard the voice weave it’s way through his thoughts as Katarina send out her psychic message, but he could barely understand any of it. The explosion had made his vis-deficient brain even more disoriented, and focusing on anything was proving difficult. He could feel his physical form slipping away into shadowy mist, as even that was requiring too much effort for his brain to fully comprehend right now.

What . . . what happened? Damian’s half formed figure struggled to rise amidst the settling dust, the events before the explosion slowly coming back to him, and with them a single thought broke through the haze: Killian

He felt his throat tighten as his eyes stared through the haze for Killian’s vis signature, limping past many others as best he could until he found himself at their side. There was a girl next to him, muttering something as she seemed to be healing him, but he was still to disoriented to properly understand what she said. With a huff he fell to their side, eyes immediately focused on the rebar sticking out of the man’s chest as a cold dread filled his mind.

“C-can you heal him?” the nightwalker asked the girl kneeling over Killian, his voice somewhat resonant and echoing as part of his throat was unformed, along with a good potion of the left side of his torso. ”Or at least stabilize him until the paramedics get here?”

“Sorry, there’s nothing I can do for him. His brain’s already gone. I’ve got to attend to save my vis for the living.” Katarina shook her head, before moving onto the others.

As she started to walk away, fear, panic, and no small amount of anger filled Damian, unable to believe that nothing could possibly be done. Before Katarina could get far, he’d grab at her wrist, unable to keep the desperate frustration out of his voice. [color=Thistle]”There has to be something that you can do?!?! At least to make sure he’s alright when the medics come. You can’t just leave him like that! If you need Vis, take mine. I don’t care what you have to do, just help him. Please.” He couldn’t let Killian die, not like this. Not when this was all Damain’s fault. He should’ve been tougher. He should’ve been harsher. He knew something was wrong, but he’d wasted too much time trying to play nice . . . and now it might cost Killian his life.

The terror and guilt that filled Damian’s heart with dread, and this instinctually caused his fear aura to start to take effect,and though his diminished Vis made the effect weaker than it normally would be, it would still have an effect on those around him. Especially the wounded, some of which would soon start to feel their feelings of panic and terror grow more intense, increasing heart rates, driving people closer to their end.

Nikki wasn’t a fan of this. Not in the least as she shifted through the debris, guided by who knew what, to the nearest wounded. A woman cradled her damaged arm close to her body. Gently as Nikki could, she leaned down then extended her arm to examine it. There was several hairline fractures but they were minor compared to wrist. It was completely broken and improperly set. It wouldn’t heal right.

Keeping that in mind, Nikki looked around for pieces of wood or metal to create a splint. The whole time she tried not to question the sour sensation tossing in her middle. Her mind screaming for clarity as it felt like a hive of thoughts were buzzing and stinging at her individuality. A single person lost in a crowd within her head.

After breaking a few chunks of wood, surprisingly easy, Nikki then began to work at setting the damaged arm. Not pausing to think, she moved onto the next individual. The whole time feeling uncomfortable and in slight pain.

Katarina instinctually recoiled at Damian’s touch. He was a stranger.. But also, he was licentia. As soon as her vis probed at him, to analyze his physiology and see if he was injured, something Katarina had accidentally left on, she could tell he was alien to her. And he was physically restraining her. Deep-seated fears instantly began rising within her chest.

And then the actual fear aura happened, bouncing back and amplifying on Katarina thanks to her mental network. While she could shoulder a dozen people’s pain, she could not a dozen people’s fear, especially in her current state. Nikki and Amon would feel the connection snap, the medical knowledge like it had never been known, apart from whatever they’d gotten into their short term memory. The pain would return. But otherwise, they’d be fine.

Katarina on the other hand, pulled away from Damien as much as she could, only achieving the bruising of her flesh. “Get off of me, you Monster! Let me go!” She panicked, screamed, and well, that was about as coherent as she was going to get before it just became gibbering. She just wanted out, but she was too frightened to even activate her physical boost to achieve that end.

Monster

With one word, the haze of panicked desperation and fear for his friend was wiped away from Damian’s eyes, replaced only by both confusion and a horrid realization. He wanted to try and argue with this stranger, to try and make her see that he wasn’t a monster, that he was just another person just a little . . different. But in the moment, as she tried to escape from his desperation-fulled grip, Damian felt a familiar sensation inch it’s way through his form: hunger. There was so much fear and confusion all around him and, with his own fear abated for the moment, his senses were nearly overwhelmed by just how tantalizing it all felt to him, deep down in the part of his mind he often tried to suppress. It was a part of himself that had growing stronger the longer he had lived in Ominar, a predatory urge that he often found himself struggling to fully keep at bay, and right now, it was baying for the all of the Vis that was flowing around him from the many terrified patrons that had been injured by the blast.

Even now, as he held onto the girl in an quiet daze, he felt that predator urge fill him, pushing him to attack her like the starved beast that he was.

With a shudder, he released Katarina, backing away from her with a far off look in his eyes. Inside his mind, a million and one thoughts filled his mind, yet the most prominent one out of them all was also the one that he was most ashamed off.

I need to leave.

He felt like he was letting down Nikki and and especially Killian, but as he was now, he couldn’t help but feel as more of a danger to all of them than anything else. Turning around to take a limping step away from the initial explosion area, he could feel another surge of hunger race through him as his body struggled to find the vis it needed to make the repairs to his physical body. Bits and pieces of him started to fade away into dark violet whisps as he started to involuntarily shift back to his true form, the shadow tendrils clinging to him like cobwebs in the breeze. It made him look like an ethereal harbinger of death then a boy going suffering from shellshock.

Still, even if he felt that he should get as far away from here as possible, eh couldn’t just leave Killian. Forget what that girl said, he refused to believe there was no way to help him. There had to be something. Anything.

After a few more paces of aimless wandering, he felt one of his legs give way beneath him, the parts of his body that made it up having dispersed completely. He laid still, feeling his mind fading in and out of conscious and subconscious thought. However, in his current state, he sensed a familiar source of vis draw closer. Without any thought, he called out to them, his voice sounding hoarse and tired even as it resonated through the entirety of his body, his vocal chords having long turned into shadow-stuff like the rest of his body was.

”N-. . . Nikki.”
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Plans Come Crashing Down Part 4: The finale


Location: One Night in Hell→ Exiting
Time: Evening- Opening



Darius


@May

Darius’ eyes scanned each individual that even resembled Masha. He had stopped about three before his vision caught her waving her hands about and calling him by her private pet name. Relief washed over his human features as he cut quickly toward her. He didn’t even care about his appearance as he gently took her arm then examined her from top to bottom. His expression hardened slightly whenever he spotted superficial wounds, but aside from that she was fine. This was enough to cause him to relax a bit.

“What happened?” Darius quickly asked, though he knew the answer.

Nikki

@Raijinslayer

Nikki was bent down on one knee. Her hand stretched out over an injured arm as she poured her Vis through it, gradually knitting his bones and flesh back together. Suddenly the Vis’ power sputtered then ceased. The throbbing in her body returned while confusion flooded her expression. Slowly a foreign sense of fear and panic washed over Nikki. It took a lot not to pull a knee-jerk reaction when the emotions emerged from nowhere as her figure pulled upright, her legs stretched out underneath her. She paused long enough to watch the confrontation between a strange woman and Damian. The Licenti was a complete wreck causing her to pull closer.

“Damian, calm down. It’s going to be alright… you’re not helping Killian acting this way,” Nikki attempted to soothe his emotional state. The whole time she fought back the fear rising within her chest thanks to his new form. One she’s never seen before. Her hand reached out to touch the immaterialized figure in the only way she knew how to calm someone down.

“Breath, in and out. The ambulance is on their way. Have you eaten… anything today?” She had a feeling she already knew the answer since she had friends that dated Licentia before, her eyes glanced at the state of Killian. He was in pretty bad shape.


~Few hours later~


The snowstorm had become worse. Snowflakes poured down in relentless sheets, visibility crippled and roads dangerously slick when first responders arrived at One Night in Hell. Red and blue lights from the sirens pulsed across the darkened, snow-covered streets as EMTs rounded up the injured. Though the scene’s confusion had portrayed the bomb’s collateral damage to be much worse, only about a fourth of those caught endured any serious injuries. Many helped by Katarina’s brief efforts.

Killian was gently loaded up into the back of an ambulance to be taken to the ER. His body bobbed lifelessly in the gurney as his vital signs were carefully monitored, his brain unresponsive to the attempts to revive him. His physical wounds were temporarily patched to prevent additional bleeding out during transport. A young officer, Jameson, casually took down both Masha’s name and Killian’s contacts before popping into his car.

Nikki watched the ambulance go for a few moments, silently praying that Killian was going to be alright. She had refused to go to the hospital. Mostly because she still had a little boy that needed to be picked up and her scratches were already fully healed.

She turned to Damian, “So, do you have a place to stay?"

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Damian


Location: One Night in Hell→ Exiting
Time: Evening- Opening



Damian took a deep breath, hearing Nikki's voice, but not really able to take in what she was saying. It took everything he had to keep his form together. . . and hold back every fiber of his being from latching onto Nikki and draining her dry of all of the vis. With another shuddering breath, Damian managed to force the shadowy bits of his body in something resembling a human shape, though his voice still came out as a resonating drone rather than something formed by actual vocal chords.

"I. . I. . . I'm fine, N-Nikki. Just . . just . . just fine."

Picking himself up to his feet, eyes focused at some point in the distance, he limped his way towards the door of the club but didn't make it far before his leg gave out from underneath him. He fell with a sharp cry, hissing through his teeth as he struggled to get to his feet once more, but couldn't even summon the strength to do that. And more than anything, he felt hungry. Terribly, terribly hungry, more so than he ever had before, and every movement he made only seemed to make it worse. So he simply laid there, entire body coiled tight in on itself as he waited for the ambulances, focusing all of his thoughts internally, and shutting everything else out. Anything less than this, and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from attacking the next person he saw.



As the ambulances drove off, the young licentia sat down amongst the whipping winds of ice and snow, kneading the now empty vis package in his hands. The paramedics had watched him the entire time they had been there, looking as if he might jump them at the slightest moment. He could smell the fear and suspicion that clung to them as they went about their work the whole time, and was half certain that part of the reason they had been so insistent on getting Nikki to the hospital was to make sure she didn't end up alone with him. For his part, however, he couldn't really blame them. When they had arrived, he had barely been able to hold his form together, the hunger gnawing at his frayed sense of reason like a rabid beast. If they had waited any longer to arrive, he didn't think he would've been able to hold himself back.

In all his life, it was the first time that he had ever experience such a ferocious hunger, and even now he couldn't help but feel a slight gnawing hunger rumbling from within his core, the few packs of vis that they had used to stabilize him proving insufficient to sate it. But it would do until he could find somewhere else to feed. . . hopefully. Pushing that thought aside, for now, he only offered the briefest of glances to Nikki as she asked him if he had a place to stay the night.

". . . You don't have to. I don't. . don't want to be a bo-bo-bother. I can find somewhere to hunker down till the storm passes. . . or at least lets up. Benefit of being a licentia like me, you can fit in quite a few places."

@Fallenreaper
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❤ Olivia Matthews ❤
&
✠ Emmett Matthews ✠


Time: Arc 2, Day 2- Morning
Location: Aeris' Apartment




Emmett curled up near the frost covered window. His butt was parked on the built-in seat and bookshelf unit, his right hand folded under his chin. He traced the delicate, otherworldly designs spreading across the glass surface. Almost floral in nature despite the icy display. After a moment, his head leaned against the glass where the cold surface was melted by his warmth. He lingered there. Emmett let the cold sensation burrow deeper in him, bring strength to the numbing sensation that comfort him. Deep down, he wished he couldn’t feel anything.

There were small, dark-colored bags building underneath his eyes. His mind couldn’t help but mill over the memories of his last conversation with Erin. It had ended so sourly. Just when they were starting to mend their friendship, she pushed him away. It hurt more than he thought was possible.

Mr. Aeon, sensing something amiss, had pulled him aside. Nothing the older man said made Emmett feel alright, but at least his temper dissipated. The boy sighed.

He continued to take in the storm outside. Emmett noticed how quickly it settled in causing his gut to stir, plaguing him with instinctive warnings. The weather was unusual for this time of year in Ominar. The anxiety was enough to cause him to sit upright then walk toward the hallway. His soles barely cared for the chill lapping at his naked feet. His eyes shifted to Olivia’s assigned room drawing him in closer where he paused long enough to check on her. His right hand reached out, the door creaked wider before he edged inside. Her soft snores were the first thing that caught his attention. Emmett relaxed at seeing her curled into a ball and still sleeping warmly under her covers.

Quietly he pulled back into the hallway then continued down the stairs.

harles Λeon


Time: Arc 2, Day 1- Late Evening to Arc 2, Day 2 - Early Morning.
Location: Ominar Hospital ER




Charles stomped off the snow clinging to his boots. They piled around his soles then crunched as he stepped across them, his figure moved deeper into the busy emergency room. Like in the cold outside, he was numb to his surroundings. Every bit of it surreal and unable to touch him emotionally. Nurses brushed by him, but he paid them little attention. He wanted to find Killian’s room sooner rather than later. Gradually he paused nearby a wall, out of the hallway’s traveled path, where his eyes sought the nurse manning the registry counter.

He found her. She was trying to calm a man in his early twenties, the young man’s hands were frantically clutched at his side. He raised his body both in stress and to intimate her into submission instinctively. Several piercings lined his nose bridge with his shoulders and arms covered in a tapestry of tattoos, his outfit gothic in theme. It took a few moments, but Charles suddenly realized why the man looked so familiar. He was a student at the college. A rather well behaved and quiet type, the environment outside the college had drawn out his stronger character. It was enhanced by his growing anxiety.

Quickly Charles’ legs ate up the distance to interrupt the scene before it got out of control. He navigated through the mess of wounded and hospital staff. Each movement was made with a strict purpose: to progress and waste little energy doing it.

As the young man began to raise his fist, Charles’ arm whipped out then caught it by the wrist. The student promptly paused in his action. His head turned to observed who was foolish enough to touch him and stiffened in shock. Charles let him rip his arm from the loose grip.

“What are you doing professor? Here, I mean,” he clarified, asking to satisfy his curiosity.

“A friend of mine was taken here after a serious accident at his workplace. I came to get answers and possibly see about his condition,” Charles answered calmly. He decided to neglect mention of what the student nearly did, the youth already aware himself and silently punishing himself for losing his temper.

For the moment, Charles seemed void of any emotional attachment. That was far from the truth. In fact, he was pushing away every fiber of anger, sorrow, and blame that tried to cloud over his mind. Seeing them as a poison that would hurt his ability to help Killian during this time. Continuing to draw on the spreading ice in his veins, the professor turned to his eyes to the nurse.

“Killian Jones, where is he?”

The nurse, still a bit out of sorts with the near physical encounter, blinked. She seemed to struggle to put together thoughts before she finally broke the spell and replied.

“I will need to see your identification, need your name and check to see if you’re placed as his next to kin.”

She didn’t waste any more time as she moved back to the desk. Her figure slides smoothly into her chair and rolled it right up to the computer, her fingers at the ready. Charles gave his identification followed by his name and patiently waited until the woman was done verifying things. As she wrapped up, her arm reached out to hand him back his ID. Charles stuffed it haphazardly into his coat. The second she voiced Killian’s location, he was gone. His figure vanished down the nearest hall toward the ICU.

♤ Darius M Cain ♤


Time: Arc 2, Day 2- Next Morning
Location: Manor




Darius’ right eye slit open.

His hazy morning vision began to clarify then sharpen, glancing around the scenery to piece together last night’s events. In the dim darkness, several articles of clothes were haphazardly scattered across the floor and various furnishings. The trail slowly led to the large king size bed where Masha and he laid, naked under the sheets. Her figure was draped across his chest while she softly slumbered, enjoying his fur and the warmth. Lazily his head turned toward the artisan table at his bedside. The vintage clock ticked away the seconds past six am causing his sense of responsibility to gnaw at him.

Darius finally gave in. He gingerly moved his figure upright then carefully detangled himself. He then planted both feet upon the carpet and rose. Along the way, his hand snatched his pants and slipped into them. After exiting the door, he softly clicked it shut behind him. It wouldn’t do if his activities work up Masha from her rest. She had a long day ahead of her, both averaging the damage and repairing it. For now, he would enjoy some breakfast with a side of wine. When she woke up around noon, they would talk.

One of Afua’s small spies scurried across the hallway behind him causing his ears to twitch in annoyance. He had forgotten they now roamed the manor, for the time being, drawing some distaste to rise. Nothing brought his hatred to surface more than being stalked. His teeth gritted in silent fuming as he pulled into the small, ill-used kitchen.

As he opened the cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug, his ears caught the sound of something heavy move. His eyes caught the sudden image of a sawed-off gun barrel aligned at his chest. His figure bolted to the side just when his shadow shot up to protect his vital organs. The muzzle went off faster than expected. Pain engulfed his shoulder and right arm, the flesh burnt by the proximity. Darius felt a yell escape from his snout as he managed to stay on his feet. Adrenaline fought with shock in his system. His ears caught the sound of blood dripping from his shredded bicep and broken upper arm. When it made contact with the ground, the liquid hissed then ate into the floor’s surface.

Too worried about giving into the spreading shock, Darius’ figure snatched some towels on route to the nearest phone. His trembling hand hit the speed dial for Nabriales’ cell. Before he could pick up the receiver, the weakness began to swarm his strength. Darius felt his legs give out from under him. Slowly he flipped about to fact the cabinet while trying to remain conscious and pressed the towels to his bicep.
Hidden 1 mo ago Post by Tuujaimaa
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Tuujaimaa Loyal Retainer of Lord Odin

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LOCATION: Reates' Lab / Victorious Secret / Darius' Mansion | INTERACTION: @FallenReaper


Nabriales had spent the better part of the day in the lab with Reates, both fairly rapt in their work and their findings. Nabriales had done what he could regarding the preservation of the vis at the scene in crystalline form for Reates to analyse further (as his Sight was far more up to the task than Nabri's) and beyond that had assisted whenever Reates had asked. He'd spent the best part of their time together ensuring that the research progressed smoothly--contrary to Reates' and his own chaotic nature--and probing his vast web of contacts to see if any of them could offer any insights immediately that the pair might have missed. Naturally, there were no leads there, and as the day crawled towards its end Nabriales received a call from Darius. That, in and of itself, was fairly odd--Nabri usually contacted Darius first and ensured that their business meetings were scheduled well in advance to free up Darius' far more constrictive schedule, and they weren't due to meet again regarding any of his earlier propositions for another month or two.

He answered promptly, but it seemed that the call had not fully connected. Perhaps it was simply the interference of the wards surrounding the lab, or perhaps the fox had butt-dialed him, but neither of those options particularly convinced Nabriales, and with a quick shout over to Reates that he'd be back in a jiffy (even though Reates didn't hear him and Nabri knew he'd not be getting back into the Lab without Reates' direct interference) and attempted to teleport out before remembering where he was and exiting through the door.obviously

Then, with a second of conscious effort, poofed himself through the proverbial aether into Darius' mansion to see what the mysterious call was about. He'd moved himself into one of Darius' many studies, expecting a call from there, but to his surprise found their usual meeting spot quite empty. Given that a modicum of effort had been spent getting here, and that Reates really didn't need him for the research at this point of the process, Nabri decided to give the mansion a quick look-over, his Sight allowing him to largely see through the physical structure and look for the familiar sign of Darius' vis. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he found what he was looking for, and immediately relocated himself to where Darius was--something terrible had transpired here, but Nabri was very confused as to what exactly had happened. Darius was clearly injured, and clinging to the edge of consciousness as he had attempted to ameliorate his wounds as best as he could. He figured it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before whatever had happened had happened, and his nose picked up the distinct scent of gunpowder but he couldn't sense anyone else within the mansion. He looked up to see the recently-fired weapon in a cabinet, presumably where Darius had opened it, and leaned a little further down to inspect it.

From what he could see, the weapon was entirely mundane. There was no spike of vis in or around it to suggest that any magic had been used whatsoever, but it looked like Darius had been hit with some kind of acid attack--though even that was unusual, as Nabriales would recognise any non-magical acid available within the entire country immediately and there was no vis to suggest that it was magical in any capacity. Focusing more intently, he did not even recognise its chemical structure and it looked more similar to blood than anything else. At this point, he realised that he had spent too much time considering the how of the situation and not actually having bothered ensuring Darius was alright. He subconsciously teleported the two with an extra-quiet poof (having seen the sleeping form of Masha earlier) to Victorious Secret. He placed Darius on the counter, and took a deeply crimson vial from the shelf below him. He elected to avoid the hassle of getting Darius to actually drink it by teleporting its contents directly into his stomach, and teleported a number of bandages to the counter, along with a vial of clear, viscous liquid. He applied the liquid to the bandages, and then began wrapping them tightly along Darius' broken arm. The liquid was an antacid, of sorts, that would ensure that the skin and fur would grow back properly as the healing potion did its work and prevent any further degradation of his tissues by the acid.

It would be a few moments before he awoke, so after he'd tended to the ministrations Nabri teleported them both back to the study in which they normally met and waited for Darius to wake up.

It only took a few more moments, and as Darius awoke Nabri smiled at him from across the desk and reached out a hand to offer support.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked simply, waiting for Darius to become coherent enough to tell him what had actually happened before he said anything further.
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