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Snippet #1707783

located in District Gamma, a part of Revelation: The Cure, one of the many universes on RPG.

District Gamma

Sometimes called the charlatan's district, home to the Assassins' Guild.

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The Sewers

Dammit, another one! This was beginning to become absurd. It was as though at least three of the squads they’d been warned of had converged upon them, and while she would readily admit that she’d not been subjected to the worst of that (Durwald certainly had- funny how she remembered his name the second she saw him go down), she was by no means an experienced slayer of men, and she wasn’t sure how much longer they’d last if it continued.

Still, these three seemed to be the last in the wave, and she finally heard the words she’d needed for a while now. The bomb had been defused; it was time to get cracking in the way she knew best. A sonorous boom reverberated up her legs to the pit of her stomach, and she knew without having to guess that one of the bombs had gone off. Part of her wanted to panic, but she clamped her willpower down over it and returned to the matter at hand. They’d deal with that when they weren’t fighting for their lives.

Rolling between the fork of one guy’s legs, she came up on the other side and reached for the portable flame-device she’d acquired from Loki, who’d apparently special-ordered it fro that Vernazza man. A couple depressions of her thumb were all it took, and the wicking embedded in a divot in her ring-blade was set alight. It was kept away from the handles by a flame-retardant wrapping for a good few inched on the sides of them, but most of the thing was now on fire, and Zade felt irrationally pleased by this.

The same could not be said of the assailants, and she supposed it was only natural for people to be leery of open flame. Having spent most of her admittedly short life learning how to do this, her own fear had evolved into a healthy but by no means consuming caution, and she whirled the thing around with the same speed and purpose as she had before, propelling it towards the first guy without much extra thought. He jumped backwards to avoid it, but overcompensated and actually bumped one of his comrades, who’d been trying to flank the two women. Pressing her advantage, Zade stepped forwards and kept on swinging, eventually driving her target away from the main confrontation. The one who’d been hit was still getting up, which she hoped would give Victoria enough time to deal with the third alone for a while.

Parrying a horizontal slice, she took a blow to the forearm from a second, concealed blade and hissed, lashing out with her legs to try and kneecap the enemy, who got caught on one leg. Her aim had been off, though, and he kept his stance without much difficulty, so she passed the ring from one hand to the other and withdrew a small dagger from her boot. Still spinning the flaming circle in one hand, she attacked with her off-hand first, engaging the hidden blade. She wouldn’t be able to keep them locked for long, though, because his strength was clearly superior to hers.

So Zade thought about it a little and angled her blade so that his slid off with all the force he was bringing to bear, and spun lightly to drive the ring into his side, exposed by his overzealous effort to muscle her downwards.



District Gamma, Aboveground

Pandora, easily-distracted and not terribly mindful creature that she was, had no idea that her life was even in particular jeopardy until she turned around to see Danterus removing a blade from his midsection with what she supposed must be a great deal of pain. She flinched sympathetically anyway. His words, though, were greeted with a firm shake of the head. “I can’t leave, not now.” Not when they have the Cure. Not when the people that I have known since I was a child are dying. Danterus was not the first person to imply that she didn’t belong on a battlefield, and he probably would not be the last, but all had been and would be met with the same obstinate resistance, all the more stubborn for the gentleness with which it was handled.

Of course, then the young man dashed forward again, and she pursed her lips, brows furrowing. He really shouldn’t be- she realized the irony of the thought and enunciated a quick string of healing and fortification spells under her breath instead, working to stop the worst of the bleeding and renew his energy. Chances were, he’d need it. The distance cast was taxing, but not unmanageable, therefore easily worth it. She doubted she’d get him to stay still long enough to handle it properly, anyway.

The first rumble sounded beneath her feet tremulously, and Pandora’s cerulean irises were rimmed with sclera for a moment of shock-dread before she threw up a shield around herself and ran. The rumble proved the harbinger of something much worse, and when the deafening boom left her ears bleeding, she panicked, instinctively encasing the twenty or so feet in any direction in that selfsame barrier, grounding herself in one spot and feeling the magic escape her fingertips at a rate she wasn’t prepared for. Still, she was not calm enough to stop it and it just kept going, keeping the shield up in spite of being battered with chunks of concrete larger than she was.

Her vision went after her hearing, though from an entirely different cause, and blind and deaf, she could do no more than feel herself empty of power, limbs shaking until the drain at last ceased, the shield wavered and collapsed, and Pandora breathed a great sigh of relief. The pressure eased, and after a few moments of gathering herself back together, she was able to blink away the black fog over her eyes and look around.

She almost wished she hadn’t. There was a clear delineation in the ground where the ground stopped tearing up, debris flung to all sides but none landing within the safety of her small bubble. All was silent as the ash floating in the air, and she coughed weakly, not terribly surprised when the action brought up blood, which spilled over her lips onto the concrete. Wiping her bottom lip with the pad of her thumb, she stared for a moment at the bright coloration it acquired, then dropped her hand, not really able to keep her arm up that long.

She was still shaking violently, and whenever she moved too much, she threatened to black out, waves of nausea rolling over her with a kind of certainty she’d almost forgotten about. It wasn’t often that she pushed herself this far, and truly she hadn’t meant to this time. Though… she probably still would have, if she’d been given an actual choice. But oh, how it hurt. As best she could, she lifted her head to try and look around, only barely able to avoid vomiting at the sight of more mangled bodies than she’d care to count, her poor patients among them. The radius hadn’t been wide enough…

Planting both hands on her knees, she pushed slowly into a standing position, swooning dangerously with the effort but managing to maintain some measure of uprightness. After that, it was as much a matter of putting one foot in front of the other as anything, and she eventually reached the area where most of the survivors still stood at loggerheads. Azazel, she noted, was deceased, leaving the magi with no leader, and the soldiers looked hardly any more organized. It was exactly what she had known she would see, what she already had seen, but as usual, such things had given her no assistance, only more heartache.

For once, she couldn’t reassure herself that everything was going to be okay. Her ability to do so had prevailed through some of the most horrible things anyone would ever see, and she’d still managed to come out of them with a sunny disposition and an irrational amount of hope. But right now, in the aftermath of the explosion as people innumerable lay dead and dying and others still had the look of men and women who would see it continue until the last one standing, when confronted with that, even her optimism flagged with sheer exhaustion. As she was really the only person moving much right now, quite a few people were watching her, and there was something about this that she didn’t like. No, stop looking at me! You wouldn’t listen before, and I have nothing to say now!

For what was there to say to this? There were no words, and tears were so useless her eyes seemed incapable of producing them. This was beyond that, too. Breathing still ragged, she drew herself to her full height, which admittedly wasn’t impressive in the slightest. Glancing first to the magi, she fixed them with a hard stare that didn’t belong on her face. “Are you satisfied now?” She rasped. “Your kin are dead and still oppressed. But then, there are many people who could have told you that’s what happens when you trust David Gilgamesh, if you’d thought to listen.”

“And you!” she shouted at the guards, not really caring whether or not this made them angry at her, because she was spent and beyond whatever small instinct for self-preservation she’d ever possessed. “I expect that you were just following orders, weren’t you? Is it easier to sleep at night that way? When you can blame the suffering you inflict on your superiors? But you can’t! Each and every one of you will dream of this day, over and over again, and you’ll stew in it, you know you will. Because in the end it was your sword that killed that boy, your bomb that destroyed your comrades with your so-called enemies! And some of you still want to do it! Stop, just… please stop. Just… go home to your families and your lives, and know that none of us, and none of your dead allies, ever truly can. Please, everyone… go home.”

A sob wrenched from the mage’s throat, and she dropped her gaze to the ground. “I can’t watch you kill each other anymore,” she muttered to herself, then tried again to limp forward, this time to carry herself off the battlefield and away. Everyone else had been right. Everyone else was always right. She had no business being here. She was weak-hearted and incapable of dealing with it.

It was about five paces forward that she finally lost consciousness and collapsed, the strain of the magic too much for her to continue.