Lugubrious

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@Lugubrious @Ayazi

Wait a moment, Contest #24 still hasn't been judged after a year?

@Crimmy

Evidently not.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

The Lady in White

Location: Fuel Plant – Amaranth Generator Room
@Lazo

Crack

The distinctive noise, albeit muffled, sounded out from beneath Pithy's heel. A bit of rummaging in the sand, or enough experience with such objects, led to the simple but chilling conclusion that she'd stepped on and broken a bone. Its brittleness came not from some sickness of its former owner, but rather because the bone had been thoroughly gnawed before its abandonment. Furthermore, it wasn't alone. A chance footstep here or there throughout the sand-strewn generator room could easily turn up more of its, kind, including skulls, each of which sported large, fang-toothed bites.

Dedicated observation of the generator itself, meanwhile, might lead to the piecing-together of what exactly lay at its core. In the center of the violent, colorful concentric spheres of energy span a box etched with various symbols, all aglow in white and purple. The power crackling from the anomaly gave off an odor like ozone, though the reek of carcasses emanating from the tunnels outclassed it in foulness. The only machine in its vicinity that didn't appear to be a part of the siphoning apparatus resembled a table with a tablet on top at an angle, harboring a slew of buttons set within. Pithy might recognize a keyboard from her earlier exploration of the military base, but even had she puzzled out its functionality there it looked quite alien here. Putting the generator aside, however, the tunnels could not be ignored. Though the holes in the walls looked forced, the pathway beyond resembled the manmade corridors of an ancient tomb, completely at odds with the uninteresting general aesthetic of the Justice Hub. The ripped-up edges of the yawning black apertures, lit sometimes by the sporadic glow of the generator, cast jagged, monstrous shadows, and the feeling that she'd stepped into another beast's domain began to take root.

The God Hand

Location: the School's Library
@GreenGoat

Furious but brief, the fight ended. Even the added wild card of the gun-wielding anon didn't possess the power to prolong a conflict between two bruisers. Juniper's forwardness and fortitude won her the match, and Wesley crumpled to the ground she sealed the deal with a witty-one liner. Oren, listening in with a drone only a few meters away, ate it up. “Aww, snap! What a tight way to wrap it up! A tough fight, but you showed him the power of a real 'cavalier' attitude. Neheh..heh.” His merry voice trailed off as he noticed Juniper lying on the ground, clutching her stomach as she writhed in pain. Worry crept into his voice, not at all abated by her attempts at bandaging. “Yeesh...stomach wound, huh? ...That's not good. In my experience, that's a slow and painful way to go. Hmm...” The drone's light blinked out for a second, leaving the maiden alone with the silence and agony.

A moment later Oren returned, and in a more strident tone he told her, “The College folks don't want someone to 'waist' away between rounds. I can get a doctor to come by and treatcha if ya get out in front of the School. There's two ways from your current position: ya can either break the library window and go all the way around the perimeter, which'll take a long time and might attract anons, or head back through, across the central pavilion, and out the front door, which'll definitely getcha anons. Yikes, what a pickle...a raw 'dill', if you will. Er, sorry.” The drone made as if to leave, but it stopped just before floating away. “Oh,” Oren added, “This is yours. Maybe it's an amazing healing item?” The flying machine's clasps came loose and dropped its wooden box. It bounced off the edge of a bookcase with a hefty whack and rolled a few feet across the carpet before coming to a halt.

You got:
17. Rosary
How do you shoot the devil in the back? What if you miss?
Rewards a last-second evasion by launching a magical wave-motion counterattack against the wearer's assailant

The Fungal Knight

Location: Amusement Mile
@Banana

When Bonesword abandoned his cover, three different clowns turned to look at him instantly. Their beady, multicolored eyes, more like predators' than people's, fixated upon him. The staredown broke only a moment later, though, as the clowns -convinced that Bonesword was one of them- went back to their 'business'. For the moment, the skeleton in disguise had free reign to wander around the carnival and try to figure out what had happened.

Ludicrous as they looked, with their powder-white skin, pudgy four-digit hands, and larger-than-normal mouths, the clowns did not appear to be bumbling idiots. As Bonesword made his way to a nearby miniature circus tent, he spotted a few holding what looked like oversized plastic ray-guns, and one even led a balloon animal on a leash, which padded and sniffed around as though alive. At one point, the circus tent disgorged a tiny car fast enough to run Bonesword over if he did not evade it. A moment later is came to a stop so that its doors could open and no fewer than five clowns could get out, though none should have been able to fit in the first place. Before entering the tent, it became obvious that the clowns were not just ambling around eerily, but actively grouping up in preparation for some unknown undertaking.

Inside, an even more bizarre scene awaited him. In the very center of the tent stood a brightly-colored circular console, with various plastic tubes stretching off of it to snake across the floor and through the walls. The ceiling supports held several guided rails, and dangling from hooks held in them were two garish pink cocoon-like bags, each as big as a hay bale, that appeared soft to the touch. Spatters of a reddish-pink liquid lay on the floor around each bag, and the surface of the console featured several straws strewn about among the comically large buttons and levers. Bonesword did not have the pleasure of being the only clown inside, however. A tall, gangly one with three tufts of yellow and purple hair and bulging cheeks stood with his back turned toward the entrance, a toy pistol on the console in arm's reach but otherwise undefended.

Smiley

Location: Parking Garage near Main Street
@ScreenAcne

The otherworldly howl of the demon not only startled the two scouts, but recovered the attention of the rest of the squad, though at the moment the others were too far away to act. With their military-grade sternness broken, even for a fraction of a moment, the scouts were slow on the draw while staring at the oil-black monster's freakish dance. Before they could fire, Smiley's slung tire hit one in the chest at full force, tearing a guttural “ugh!” from her lungs as she fell backward. By that time, however, the second opened fire, and while her initial barrage missed the demon's whiplike shape, he had to enlarge in order to swallow her. In the scant seconds he'd grown, she riddled him with bullets, but his inexorable hunger cannoned him forward. All at once the woman, her weapon, and her attached pod drones were devoured. Smiley's jaws closed around her armored chins, crushing but not quite cutting through.

At the same moment, the other soldiers came into view. Several raised their machine guns to open fire, but one held up his fist in a decisive manner, and his fellows held their fire. Inside Smiley's maw, the dying woman had activated her drones' self-destruct, and was a split second away from detonating.

Gaben's Chosen

Location: Awash Governance Hub
@Hostile

Though a human might hesitate, inclement weather did not. Before Mountain Dew made up his mind about what to do about the sudden deluge, the rain had so thoroughly drenched the lower portion of the street through which he now flew that the nose of his hoverboard hit the water's surface. Instantly the board flipped, throwing the major league gamer end over end toward a basin that had formed in the avenue's center, deep as an inflatable backyard swimming pool. His hoverboard, meanwhile, merely tipped over to float face-down on the water's surface.

Around six hundred feet ahead, medieval stone tower reached into the sky. Its solid-looking construction made it the most distinct thing Mountain could see through the immense downpour, and at this distance he could even spot a great wooden door at its base where masonry met sidewalk. The abruptness with which it arose from the streetside, including the cracked and turned-up concrete, made it appear as if it had risen from the earth like a beanstalk from a fairy tale.

Behind him, however, there came the sound of a harrowed cry above the heavy rain. ”Don't go into the tower! Please! You have to help me!” It was garbled, and not just by the storm, but rather as though it had been distorted through a throat never meant to speak. A choice lay before Mountain, neither especially appealing, but he couldn't afford to remain where he was any longer.

Inari

Location: Fuel Plant – Bottom Floor Bonfire
@Kapuchu

As critical as they were for humans -and those like humans-, light and heat did not interest a great many members of the animal kingdom. Cold-blooded reptiles, of course, needed their time in the sun to fill with energy so that they might go about their business, but insects did not care so much, and even warm-blooded creatures like birds and animals typically sported a coat of feathers, fur, or fat as insulation, depending on their habitats. Only humans treasured the warm, comforting glow of the fire, for aside from providing heat it, at the very core, perhaps reminded them of their dominance over nature. Then again, some creatures were heatseekers not because they needed heat, but because they needed love.

Secure as the lobby area of the fuel plant was, it was not impervious, and a beast with a nose full of a strange smell found its way inside. Ordinary people might not have noticed the intrusion for a while, but even in a semi-relaxed state, a fox determined to win the Crucible always retained some alertness. After a while, convinced that despite the alarming appearance of a shark there was no preeminent threat, a standard-sized dog with white and black fur, soaking wet from the rain, trotted toward the bonfire. She stopped a respectful distance away, wariness in her eyes as the dog looked between Brucie and Lily, her little mustache flapped with each turn of her neck.

Captain K. Runch

Location: Holy Ground
@Propro

Before Runch slammed shut the journal he'd received, one more page writ itself into existence before him. Titled 'surveillance drone', it gave the capabilities and behavior of the machine Oren used to communicate, which did not amount to much. No combat ability. Set to autopilot unless its action algorithm detects something interesting afoot, at which point an automatic alert is sent to the operator. Can hold 10 lbs of cargo, project a holographic screen without the use of a surface, and communicate via microphone. A more valuable lesson, perhaps, was that the journal seemed to operate on proximity alone. If Runch wanted the scoop on the tournament's mysterious, pun-loving announcer, he'd have to visit the man in person. For now, though, Oren himself did not prevaricate when asked about the Bashibozuk's fate.

“If you let him go, he's free to his own devices. He can wander around the city, kill if he wants to, whatever. I don't think the College really made plans for nonwinning survivors. Maybe they'll be returned to their own worlds after the whole thing's over with?” He shrugged, still smiling.

Outside the cathedral, rain began to fall. More buildings, wreathed in nighttime, stretched in every direction, but something altogether different lay on the horizon. In the far, far distance, a brilliant orange glow split the sky, a fiery blaze that rose above any building.

Seraphim

Location: Scorched Forest Depths
@DracoLunaris

Beneath the airborne angel, a raging inferno gripped the forest. The giant tree that harbored Clotho's lair, in particular, had transformed from a massive but quiet bastion of solemn fortitude into a cataclysmic bonfire that cast such a gargantuan, ferocious glow as to make it seem like night's darkness had given birth to a new sun. Virtually anyone in the entire Uptown area could cast a glance at the horizon and see the brilliant beacon alight. As the wildfire threatened to engulf the forest, the clouds burst, and a torrent of rain drowned the flames in a matter of moments—except for those that consumed the vast pillar of tinder formerly known as the Forest King, which for all intents and purposes appeared inextinguishable.

As for Sophia: her phylactery's surface gave forth two lights in sequence, one salmon and one maroon, before going dark once again. Dark still was the phylactery of Clotho, which after relinquishing its 'soul' went completely inert. It couldn't rot, being an object of metal and mesh rather than blood and tissue, but the brown blackness of its shriveled surface made it pathetic enough. With the achievement of victory, however, her adrenaline ebbed, and in its wake came the rising pain within her left arm. The skin's tingling sensation became a crawl, and in only a few moments, her flesh began to move. Beneath her black armor and red raiment what was happening couldn't be seen, but she could feel the sudden surge. Very quickly she became unable to figure out what was happening in the limb based on feeling alone, but its gear was shifting around worryingly, and in an even more disturbing tone none of it hurt at all. It was actually quite pleasant up until her armor could contain the mutation no longer.

The black plate burst from her right arm as some thing long and dark exploded outward from where her left arm had been. At first glance, it resembled a centipede, long and bendy but with a chitinous shell. In a row across its tops and bottom were little protrusions that resembled legs, but on its end were three jointed digits that ended in sharp talons. The mutation was not pretty, but it could have been worse. As the neurons and nerves settled down, feeling returned to the limb, and in addition to being completely flexible, its claws worked much like fingers. In the very center of the 'palm', a little barb could extend to inject a liquid that shone as bright as a holy elixir. Although, this functionality more than likely presented little solace to an individual whose hatred of vile otherness was absolute.

Oren, courtesy of a newly-arrived drone, caught it all—everything as soon as the battle had left the Forest King up until this point. He even captured Clotho, lying among the discarded, defeated flesh of her mutation along the ground. The fact that the overwhelming, hideous transformation somehow preserved most of her original body was miracle in itself, but even more incredible, she appeared to retain a tiny shred of the spark of life. After all, her soul would have instantly gone to the victor had she been killed. Perhaps the fact that she generated the mutagen within her own glands gave her some sort of greater control over it. Though the last of the mutagen had somewhat closed up her stab wound, Clotho did not appear in any condition to fight, or even to move. Her wings were completely destroyed, and her forearms as well as her legs below the knees were essentially gone. She lay motionless amidst the juices, staring upward into the rain that washed her shame away, and whispered, ”Stupid...stupid. Ugh. How could I be so...disappointing. Carreau...you fool...you were right after all. I thought I...thought I could do it alone, and now...I'll die alone. Stupid...stupid...IO, I'm sorry, really.” Blood trickled down from the side of her mouth, and her eyes grew dark.

Blackjack

Location: Upper Village
@Deadnaut

When Teller addressed them, wielding stern words and a hand in the shade of a blade, the women fell silent. That said, it didn't take a genius to tell that Guðrún took his curt response less than cordially. Her impetuousness propelled her into speaking first while Amelia, confronted by an attitude she hadn;t expected, was still mulling over her options. Respect for the military, it seemed, was something the headstrong redhead lacked. “Well, you're not exactly swimming in a lot of help either, Captain Boozer. You might be a force to be reckoned with where you come from, but if you think you're a top seed in this competition, think again. Woulda thought any of you wanted to win so badly you'd take whatever help you can get, 'specially from the College itself. We were gonna offer you some intelligence about your next opponent, and whatever spoils we get from the hunt, but maybe you'd better return to your nap instead? Ghosts can smell cantankerousness.”

A keen mind could intuit the source of her impertinence—outside of her own nature, at least. Though better than nothing, the light given off by the streetlamp nearby wasn't perfect, but Guðrún herself was brightly illuminated. A closer look at her umbrella revealed a lantern stashed in its top, integrated with the rest of the device so as to shed light in a shrouded manner. If by now Teller had put two and two together about how those artifacts worked, it'd be obvious that she could whisk herself away in the heavy, obscuring rain now falling in sheets throughout the City of Echoes. Of course, safety net aside, Amelia proved far less eager to get on the nerves of a hardened soldier, and less patient than Guðrún's previous handler.

“Would you shut up? Being in a position of power in this tournament doesn't mean we should lord it over the competitors, especially if they're in a position to take it out on us.” Her face bore her nervousness plainly as she turned her attention back to Teller. “Again, I'm sorry. I mistakenly assumed that cooperation would be a given. If you're not interested, we'll just be in our way.” Amelia took a preemptive step back, giving a slight bow of her head to enunciate her apology.

The Book Keeper

Location: Oldtown Plaza
@BctheEntity

The smith shrugged. “Well, I'm sorta just doing it for me at this point.” He fell silent as Motley's attention slipped elsewhere, wondering what the stranger might have heard that he himself didn't. Evidently it demanded his focus, for Motley bid the smith adieu, promising to return if he found anything that might make for a passable weapon. With a forlorn sigh, he returned to his work.

Motley couldn't quite get a handle on the newcomer, not because he couldn't sense her, but because of several qualities he'd never encountered before. For the most part this took the form of a unique smell lingered around her, faint and aromatic, on the opposite end of the scale from a beastly musk but still on that scale. There was something else about her, though, that set her apart. Of course, Motley could tell that the approaching figure belonged to a woman despite the poor light and her modest traveling garb in the first place due to the scent of estrogen, far too faint for a normal human to pick up on but present nonetheless. All in all, she seemed unremarkable, but the confidence with which she entered Oldtown Plaza told the vampire all he needed to know about why she was here.

From the sidelines, the purple optic of Oren's drone gave it away, where the night would have otherwise enveloped it. “If only a storm wasn't brewing; there would be some badass moonlight to shine down upon the classic battle of darkness versus light. Who will come out on top? I'm anxious to see. You're live in three...two...one...now.” A loud, metallic clap punctuated the announcer's last word, and the last duel of the evening began.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@The Wild West, @Lmpkio, I'd appreciate both of you posting in the near future.

@RoughDragon1, I know that you've been allotted a hiatus, but you did say you'd wrap up Saria's fight before going inactive. I'd like to see that happen, or at least an acknowledgment that plans have had to change.

@obliviousRoadie, I did not say so on the day of, but just to make sure you know, you're free to treat the fight with Garbage as though she's an NPC. I'll be looking forward to the end of the duel.

Project Crossover [SMASH ARENA - Only PXO members allowed]

Ready for action.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

@DracoLunaris@Lugubrious@Zarkun@Lmpkio

So... anyone with characters in the immediate area feel like working together on this (those who reasonably can, that is)? I was planning on introducing B-K by having them play at the reception just before the theft takes place, but from there, I'm open to suggestions.

(Mentions are based on hypothetical character proximity.)

@Etherean Fire

Slayer's in decent proximity, but he's not fast, and will not hesitate to say so.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

Slayer
Level 3
Day 2
Location: Tetris Castle Grounds
@DracoLunaris
Experience: |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (27/30)

Naija's apology evoked a subtle expression of gladness from her conversational partner. While Slayer's methods of nudging younger generations into embracing proper manners most often fell short, this unusual individual seemed to catch on to what he'd been hinting at. She was not, the vampire was gratified to understand, dense in the way so many would-be heroes were. Too often he'd found that righteousness became a platform on which to elevate oneself, and not an elusive, all-abiding goal that anyone professing to be noble of intention should work toward. Now, however, he and Naija hovered eye-to-eye, and he listened with muted astonishment as she admitted to never having met a gentleman before. What misfortune! He could sympathize with her feeling of being overwhelmed by all this newness, however. Forget monsters and mayhem: sudden change was what harangued the soul most critically, especially for an old soul like his. With one elbow perched upon the armrest of his cape-chair, and its fist rested against his cheek, he absorbed her story.

In particular, the description of her abilities, unrequested but helpfully offered nonetheless, caught his attention. She spoke of all these forms in a casual manner, as if they were her innate forms, but until now she hadn't shown off any of them. Slayer perceived that she -and by extension all the heroes- must be under the influence of some sort of limitation in the same manner he'd believed only himself to be. Ever since his fond farewell to Sharon and the abrupt teleportation from the world he'd left behind, he'd felt a sort of cloud lingering in the back of his mind. It didn't interfere with his mental faculties as far as he could tell, but when he thought of several of his pugilistic techniques, their performance seemed somehow beyond his grasp. It was a puzzling and perturbing problem, given his worryingly decreased durability, but not one a dandy should obsess over. Slayer did withdraw from his inner musings enough to chuckle when Naija mentioned flying. ”Not so much, I'm afraid. My mantle is useful, to be sure, but this shape is so slow and fickle that it's of no use in combat, save to spare me the effort of crouching.”

His lighthearted tone wavered ever so slightly when his acquaintance asked why he didn't consider himself a hero, for he felt that it might warrant a serious response. Then again, it wasn't a terribly serious matter. If it was, he would have minded sharing it with a stranger. ”My position is somewhat difficult to articulate. I suppose that I am an entity outside of my world; its trials and tribulations do not concern me. Even as the real heroes went about their business trying to resolve its ills and improve things for themselves and normal people, I barely lifted a finger. I did enjoy giving guidance to the heroes when they needed it, helping them out of tough spots and invigorating their resolve when it was shaken. All in all, I suppose my role would be more befitting of a connoisseur—looking around and taking in what life has to offer, but not involving myself in conflicts. I am an old man, after all, in a young man's world. It wasn't my world to change.”

There! Sometimes Slayer surprised himself with how elegantly he could wax poetic. Such a response surely satisfied Naija's curiosity, and with any luck she would not feel the need to inquire why his world's events didn't concern him. If she asked, of course, he could lie, but untruths besmirched a gentleman's lips. To change the subject, he glanced around for material, but nothing much had changed since his last scan.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

I am changing buildings and the one I am moving into is brand new. Unfortunately, because it is brand new it doesn't have...I am not an engineer but a device that pushes out internet service so it is a black hole. I plan to move my router over so hopefully that will get a signal out there for my phone and internet to work lol. It's bad because no one will be able to call me for shit. Any who, I will hopefully get it fixed tomorrow. If not, well, as I said, everyone has until their Friday. Worst case scenario, I'll tether outside my building.

@Holy Soldier

No problem. Thanks for letting us know.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@Lugubrious what if she comes back at some point after you demote garbage though?

@obliviousRoadie

Well, even before I instituted the posting requirement, I think I was pretty clear about the importance of presence. Cyan will have been gone for over three weeks without any kind of acknowledgment, excuse, or whatever. People have been kicked from RPs for far less. If she returns and is still interested, she'll have to deal with the consequences of your next post, and won't be able to win the Crucible.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

@Holy Soldier, I would like to enter Slayer in the arena.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

Slayer
Level 3
Day 2
Location: Tetris Castle Grounds
@DracoLunaris @Guardian Angel Haruki @Nerevarine @Zarkun
Experience: |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (27/30)

The atmosphere of malaise hung over the assembly after Peach's departure, and in her wake, silence took root and began to grow. Having said all they could, the speakers retired to their seats in the audience. In the quiet, respectful moments that followed, some of the attendees began to drift away. By all accounts, the ceremony had finished; when the guests could well up no more tears, think up no more words, and spare no more minutes to the heavy affair, they went their separate ways. After a short while, Slayer concluded that he'd been present long enough. It did not do to dwell on death, after all.

As he stood, he regarded the table of memories one last time whilst hoping that Mario's soul hastened off to a better place faster still than the funeral attendees returned to their own affairs, and spotted an unfamiliar child headed there. Garbed in outlandish, garish clothes that seemed fit to make a mockery of this dignified assembly, the kid drew Slayer's ire, but he watched a moment longer before passing judgment. Before his eyes, the child placed a bouquet of flowers and a bag of what appeared to be mushrooms among the other gifts and memoirs. For a moment the vampire was nonchalant, but he broke down into a smile as gave a slight shake his head toward the ground. ”An immature mind but a good heart. I wonder...such a colorful character must surely be a hero, perhaps called in to replace those who abandoned us in the twilight forest, but at such a young age...” While Slayer ruminated, he seemingly did not notice Naija approaching him until she gave away her presence with a light cough.

He turned halfway, looking over his shoulder to see who it was. Though once again sporting an altered appearance, the gentleman recognized Naija from her introduction the previous day. She did not, it appeared, have much of an attachment to the idea of a consistent appearance. Then again, she had given off the impression of an adaptable heroine, willing to make a sacrifice and alter her body to better do what's right. In a roundabout way, Slayer could appreciate that brand of naivety. He, meanwhile, would not be so eager to experiment with changing himself using elements from other worlds. After witnessing Odin's monstrous transformation, playing riskily with the living, mutagenic corruption known as the Mugen Virus seemed downright foolish. If it worked for Naija, however, he wouldn't hesitate to applaud her courage, so long as she remained free of evil's taint. These thoughts passed as quickly as an autumn breeze, and Slayer pivoted around the rest of the way to face her.

As she spoke, he strode away from the funeral site at a leisurely pace, not just for his own sake. Taking flight at a funeral stood out to him as a somewhat selfish act—hogging the spotlight. If Naija didn't understand she was being rude, he couldn't blame her, but all the same he attempted to steer her in a different direction. Once at a suitable distance, he fell backward into a sitting position, and before he could hit the ground his cape morphed into a winged chair that carried him upward so that he might converse with Naija eye-to-eye. ”Not at all, I could tell it was you. I hope you don't mind me rising to the occasion? I happen to have a touch of distaste for being looked down upon.” He produced his pipe and puffed it once, a knowing look in his eyes and an easy smile on his face. ”I recall you from the meeting yesterday, with your interesting philosophies about heroism. I kept quiet at the time, but for the record I do believe it hinges upon what actions one takes, not one's own views or others' views. It does bemuse me as to why I was chosen for this ordeal, and not the hero of my 'world'. I can only assume it was because of how much free time I had!” Slayer chuckled through his nose. ”In any case, I assure you I did not feel awkward or misplaced in the silence. A consummate gentleman, as I'm sure you're aware, takes any situation in stride, faultless in his bearing. Enough about me, however. Perhaps you'd like to tell me more of yourself? If I'm going to be gallivanting around for much longer, I should like to become better acquainted with my allies.”

His focus slipped off the fishwoman and onto a bizarre bipedal red creature that had taken up a position not too far away. He also identified the technological soldier who'd hung around the backlines in the last battle, who Slayer now knew to be named Varrock. The man sauntered up to the animal, who did not appear to be any trouble, and demanded not just who but what it was. The audacity of the inquiry provoked a wry hmph from the vampire, and he motioned with his head as he remarked to Naija, ”It would appear that our reluctant compatriot is taking the chance to mingle as well, though he seems to have opted for a rather abrasive approach. Perhaps he hasn't quite grasped that anyone around here is an ally, and should be treated appropriately?”