Trog's Tavern CLV

[Recaiden]

Sometimes always foxes, as they say.

Honeysuckle nods, disappointed, but not surprised. Reinholdt was sure Zee could help, but she knows better.
It's not the sort of thing that people can help with.
"Okay. Won't need go over that binding stuff anyway then."

"Last thing, does this give any clue?"
Honeyusckle makes a mistake here. She turns back into a foxgirl, face and fingers and two legs and all. Because that's how she was when the weirdness first happens, so that's where her thoughts naturally go. She's thought to test how it happens, but not to test how it fails to happen. There's a moment when Honeysuckle's eyes have color, and ordinary proportions, and no minuscule structures linking their cells in weird patterns. Honeysuckle doesn't notice this, because her eyes are closed and covered up by her visor besides. And then, in just a moment, blood vessels expand, pupils contract, colors fade, they go back to their normal abnormal state.

She has a hand lifted up, and there is a glimmer of fox-fire at her fingertips. Just for a moment. And then the fox-fire is interrupted by an explosion, just a small one, of dragonfire and lightning, that throws her hand back, and knocks her off her barstool to land dizzily on the floor.

[Rebonack]

Well, at the very least Zee might have proposed a few helpful ideas?

But it's hard without a more concrete idea of what's actually going on.

Right now it sounds like the problem mostly amounts to, 'vague magical nonsense'.

Which, frankly, is the worst kind of nonsense.

And-

Something with eyes?

Weird patterns? If Zee knew more about Honeysuckle she might be able to make more sense of all this, but sadly she doesn't know Honeysuckle that well. Probably because Zee doesn't spend a lot of time at HALO maybe? She's gone down there a few times to deliver brownies but that's about it.

And then Honeysuckle explodes.

Just a little bit.

"Oh geeze, are you okay?" Zee asks, offering a hand to help the fox girl up.

[Recaiden]

Someone would complain that it's specific real nonsense. Sure, psychic energy might be an input to the system, but the system itself ifs physically extended. Made of matter. Behaving according to scientific principles. It's not the nonsense's fault that the Nexus opens onto weird universes where physics are different. Btu that someone's not here, so...

Anyway, Zee should definitely spend more time at HALO. And bring more brownies, while she's at it.

The foxgirl takes Zee's hand (with her other hand, that wasn't near an explosion) and returns to her feet, wincing.
"Yeah. Only gotten really hurt the one time."

[Zefir]

Arkant seems to have rearanged the thoughts by now. At least she doesn't seem to notice his doing and he won't tell. Now that he sees the teeth his intresed in him is awaken. Vampire is one of the hard to get things he might need. So any glares will be answered with stares. Should he keep up the eye contact for a few seconds he will feel something knocking at his mind. He can let it in, ask who it is or whatever, but he should notice it is something in his mind not around him.

[Rebonack]

The main thing Zee got out of all of that is that she should visit HALO and bring more brownies on a regular basis.

Probably not a terrible idea, all things considered.

Anywho!

Back to the feet!

"Yeah that's definitely a pain in the butt," she sighs. "Or in the hand, I guess. If that's where the explosions typically happen. And again, sorry I can't really offer more. Between you and me, a lot of people tend to seriously over-estimate the sorts of things I can do. Within my range of specialty I think I'm pretty competent!"

Sandwiches?

Brownies?

Mixed drinks?

Altering the physiology of living systems?

Being apologetically gigantic?

Great at all those things.

Magical nonsense, whether specific or random?

Not so much.

"But outside that? neh. That's how most people are, I suppose. There aren't any true polymaths around anymore."

[Recaiden]

Does anyone ever want her to be gigantic apologetically? It seems like just being gigantic would be easier to apply.

"Know any wait, I a couple, ne'ermind."

Honeysuckle dusts her hands off, to demonstrate that it was just a pain, and not a danger.
Then she goes back to drinking.

The situation isn't much worse than when she came in. She just knows more about how bad it is. That's not actually a problem, right?

It's not clear what Zee's specialty is supposed to be. But it's not this.
"Tried, anyway."
She takes a moment to consider who else is in the tavern.

[5a Violista]

The slimegirl nods, and gives Arthfael a thumbs-up. Yeah! No problem.

She then notices that him and this other guy keep on looking at each other. She almost wants to squee, is this what she thinks it is? These two must be boyfriends or something! She should probably get out of their way so they can do whatever without worrying about her. That's so cute! No wonder that guy's been looking over here for so long!

Besides, she mostly came here to rest, and accidentally ended up talking with someone.
She points at herself, then makes the gesture for 'sleep' again.

And, true to her word, she gets up from the table so that Arthfael can do whatever.
She gives a little wave, and moves away from this corner...well, great, now she has to find another place to lie down.

The corner didn't work, there were too many people there, so...
She looks around.
Oh! Under the bar, on the bartender side. There's only one person there so, so long as she doesn't bother them, they probably won't bother her.

The slimegirl goes towards the counter, goes over it, and finds a nice quiet place to lie down on that side.


[Meanwhile]

"Oh, yeah. I didn't think of it, but I guess you would have a bunch of cultists trying to get your attention, too," June says, coming to that realization. "Glad I don't have any that come after me."

June shakes her head. "She tried speaking to them before but then they just started praying at her so hard that she got all flustered and ran," she says, waving her hand dismissively.

She drinks more lemonade.
"And I'm not sure, at this point, stopping being deerish would help. They've gotten to the point that they were willing to shoot her for not going along with them. Plus," she says. Instead of finishing the sentence immediately, she instead sits up and finishes the lemonade.

"Plus, both her and them seem to have been altered recently, so simply reversing the deer thing might not actually do all that much, I think. Y'know how there were, like, memory-spirits that were going around not long ago? Well, both her and me got hit by them; I'm fine, but it seems to have changed her a bit. And I suspect it also hit those cultists, too, since suddenly there were ones with extra arms and one with a really weird eye, but I didn't personally get to see them so I'm not entirely sure what happened to them. But Venus also changed. Like, except her eyes and ears and stuff, her appearance is mostly the same but I noticed her, um...her soul-flowers or whatever got differented."
She now stirs the ice around the empty cup, and looks into the empty cup.
"I mean, she's still definitely the same person, and if she gets mind-controlled or her mind gets affected or whatever, I've already figured out how to deal with that, but..."
June sighs.
She doesn't know where she's going with this, so she just decides the word 'but' is the end of the sentence. There's too many people in here, and even though she started learning qi and stuff to block out all the everything, she's still not good enough at it to focus in a place as busy as this on anything that doesn't involve flirting or physical exertion.
June lays her head on the counter and closes her eyes. "So it seems like it's too late to just talk without setting up a lot of safety protocols first, and un-deer-ing doesn't seem like it'd address the root of the issue. Any other suggestions?"

[Ironsmith]

Arkant seems to have rearanged the thoughts by now. At least she doesn't seem to notice his doing and he won't tell. Now that he sees the teeth his intresed in him is awaken. Vampire is one of the hard to get things he might need. So any glares will be answered with stares. Should he keep up the eye contact for a few seconds he will feel something knocking at his mind. He can let it in, ask who it is or whatever, but he should notice it is something in his mind not around him.

The slimegirl nods, and gives Arthfael a thumbs-up. Yeah! No problem.

She then notices that him and this other guy keep on looking at each other. She almost wants to squee, is this what she thinks it is? These two must be boyfriends or something! She should probably get out of their way so they can do whatever without worrying about her. That's so cute! No wonder that guy's been looking over here for so long!

Besides, she mostly came here to rest, and accidentally ended up talking with someone.
She points at herself, then makes the gesture for 'sleep' again.

And, true to her word, she gets up from the table so that Arthfael can do whatever.
She gives a little wave, and moves away from this corner...well, great, now she has to find another place to lie down.

The corner didn't work, there were too many people there, so...
She looks around.
Oh! Under the bar, on the bartender side. There's only one person there so, so long as she doesn't bother them, they probably won't bother her.

The slimegirl goes towards the counter, goes over it, and finds a nice quiet place to lie down on that side.

Arthfael nervously nods as Gabrielle leaves, deciding it'd be rude to interfere with her night any further. It was, after all, exceptionally late for her.

That left the small matter of this stranger.

This... stranger who had to be at least double or triple his age.

Who was staring at him.

Intensely.

Then he realizes the man is getting into his head and that foreboding feeling only gets worse. Arthfael doesn't know how to keep him out, so his brain is an open book.

A mostly-blank book, though.

His mind is something like an apartment that's just been vacated. There's not much in it, but there's indications that there used to be much more; dents in the carpet, conspicuous cracks and holes in the plaster of the walls, vaguely familiar scents on the air, and little bits of junk tossed into the corners.

There wasn't much going on in there that wasn't connected to here and now. Discomfort, anxiety, vague wonderings that maybe he should have listened to his uncle after all, that sort of thing.

[Lord Magtok]

An Old Friend

As he's thrown through the window, glass shattering against his back and shoulders, slicing hundreds of shallow, superficial cuts through his purple robe and into his skin, everyone's favorite cyborg thinks to himself 'Well, this is getting just a little out of hand.'

Loud as the window bursting into pieces and tinkling across the floor may have been, even louder still is the clatter and chaos as a familiar ex-villain crashes through a table and upends all its food and drink on his way to the ground. Rolling across the filthy tavern floor, still carried along by the momentum of whatever threw him so violently, his robe is befouled by all manner of exotic food and drink. Fortunately, our tin man comes to a stop before he can roll another meter or two, and shakily drags himself up on his feet, using a nearby chair to keep himself steady when his bruised legs threaten to give out on him. A younger Magtok would already be rushing back into battle, running straight to the door to teach this mystery assailant a lesson in respect, but this clone isn't as spry and reckless as that foolhardy supercriminal once was. Besides, there aren't nearly enough backup clones to justify that kind of foolishness anymore.

"C'mon, don't you think you're being a little overdramatic?" he chides his unseen aggressor, an unsteady hand reaching into his robe and hand-loading a battery pack into a laser pistol so comically tiny that he can scarcely fit his finger against the trigger. "It's not like we could've known. You abandoned us, left us to the wolves. We had to figure out everything for ourselves, took our first baby steps in a pit of vipers. Hell, we didn't even have any robots when we first started out. Under the circumstances, I think we did pretty-" Magtok doesn't get to finish that sentence, gasping in shock as his left arm inexplicably and violently twists backwards, bending back until the chrome appendage snaps at the elbow, sending both his forearm and his firearm tumbling to the floor.

"More disappointment. I thought you'd at least have the dignity to die in your disgusting cave. Some of your toys even looked mildly threatening; I was looking forward to seeing you dust them off for your final battle. Instead, you'd rather I terminate you here, in public? You'd flee to a bar, of all places, and start carrying on like our conversation never ended? What, do you think some adventurers will look upon your miserable carcass with pity and team up to stop me? You expect some proud and mighty sorcerer will prove himself my better and put me in my place?" A decrepit husk of a man cackles as he pushes through the tavern door, walking right in without a care in the world. Well...actually walk isn't quite the right word. Walking generally assumes bipedal movement, and what this stranger does is more akin to...I guess you'd call it skittering, since he's an old cyborg with only two-thirds of his original head remaining, and the rest of his body is in the form of a giant, hideous robot millipede? Yes, a giant, hideous robot millipede skitters through Trog's front door, turning his face to the side for a moment to avoid hitting the door. It's a sickeningly bizarre, segmented abomination with something akin to an iron lung pumping air through that frightful obsidian contraption, and coal-black veins pumping gods only know what to his withered old head from his unholy chassis. I feel like I should also note that there's some vague, possibly familial resemblance between the two cyborgs, with this new one looking a little like Magtok if he dried up in the sun like a raisin. Yeah, a raisin mounted to the front of a giant, horse-sized robot millipede. Ick.

"This should come as no surprise to you by now, but I have no better, child. Not in this broken era of soft, delicate larva," the robot millipede man proclaims with a mad old fiend's laugh, before affixing his hateful gaze on Magtok's left leg. The leg spontaneously begins to disassemble itself, plating and wires and machine oil scattering in every direction as a terrified Magtok can do little more than look on with half of his limbs gone in an instant. Oh gods, he's right, isn't he? Running to Trog's and trying to sound just afraid and helpless enough to recruit some passing hero was a terrible idea, especially now that he actually is that horrified and defenseless.

[Vahnavoi]

As Magtok is being dismantled on the tavern floor, another man steps into the tavern. "Excuse me, did someone just get thrown through the... window...?"

In the door frame, stands a two meters tall lanky man, dressed in dirty white clothes and a black coat. His black hair is wild and mane-like, his thuggish face criss-crossed with scars. On his waist are two sheathed swords.

In shorter words, he looks only slightly less villainous than the two fighting cyborgs.

The man in the doorframe rapidly looks back and forth between the giant millipede cyborg and Magtok, his hands shooting to the hilts of his swords. The initial shock on his face starts to turn into a predatory smile. "Gentlemen! What is the quarrel of the day?", he shouts to gain the cyborgs' attention. The way he asks his question is akin to how a normal customer might ask a waiter for the day's dish.

[Zefir]

Arkant just smirks at the slimes thoughts. He then leaves her be as she is out of his sight. Not that this would stop him, but it was easy to see she went to sleep.

A simple no would have been enougth to keep him out. After all he gently knocked.

Arkant doesn't seem to walk around in this mind apartment. He has seen such things enougth and waits at the doorframe. he knows that the host should hear him so he speaks up.
"You are a bit young to threaten me with your bloodline. What are you worried about?"

Then Magtok comes flying in and his millipede like brother. That doesn't disturb the connection since he didn't go to far.

"Go on, I'm a spellcaster but I don't know who of you is a threat to me." he just replies to the millipede Magtok befor he goes back to the vampire boy.

[Ironsmith]

An Old Friend

As he's thrown through the window, glass shattering against his back and shoulders, slicing hundreds of shallow, superficial cuts through his purple robe and into his skin, everyone's favorite cyborg thinks to himself 'Well, this is getting just a little out of hand.'

Loud as the window bursting into pieces and tinkling across the floor may have been, even louder still is the clatter and chaos as a familiar ex-villain crashes through a table and upends all its food and drink on his way to the ground. Rolling across the filthy tavern floor, still carried along by the momentum of whatever threw him so violently, his robe is befouled by all manner of exotic food and drink. Fortunately, our tin man comes to a stop before he can roll another meter or two, and shakily drags himself up on his feet, using a nearby chair to keep himself steady when his bruised legs threaten to give out on him. A younger Magtok would already be rushing back into battle, running straight to the door to teach this mystery assailant a lesson in respect, but this clone isn't as spry and reckless as that foolhardy supercriminal once was. Besides, there aren't nearly enough backup clones to justify that kind of foolishness anymore.

"C'mon, don't you think you're being a little overdramatic?" he chides his unseen aggressor, an unsteady hand reaching into his robe and hand-loading a battery pack into a laser pistol so comically tiny that he can scarcely fit his finger against the trigger. "It's not like we could've known. You abandoned us, left us to the wolves. We had to figure out everything for ourselves, took our first baby steps in a pit of vipers. Hell, we didn't even have any robots when we first started out. Under the circumstances, I think we did pretty-" Magtok doesn't get to finish that sentence, gasping in shock as his left arm inexplicably and violently twists backwards, bending back until the chrome appendage snaps at the elbow, sending both his forearm and his firearm tumbling to the floor.

"More disappointment. I thought you'd at least have the dignity to die in your disgusting cave. Some of your toys even looked mildly threatening; I was looking forward to seeing you dust them off for your final battle. Instead, you'd rather I terminate you here, in public? You'd flee to a bar, of all places, and start carrying on like our conversation never ended? What, do you think some adventurers will look upon your miserable carcass with pity and team up to stop me? You expect some proud and mighty sorcerer will prove himself my better and put me in my place?" A decrepit husk of a man cackles as he pushes through the tavern door, walking right in without a care in the world. Well...actually walk isn't quite the right word. Walking generally assumes bipedal movement, and what this stranger does is more akin to...I guess you'd call it skittering, since he's an old cyborg with only two-thirds of his original head remaining, and the rest of his body is in the form of a giant, hideous robot millipede? Yes, a giant, hideous robot millipede skitters through Trog's front door, turning his face to the side for a moment to avoid hitting the door. It's a sickeningly bizarre, segmented abomination with something akin to an iron lung pumping air through that frightful obsidian contraption, and coal-black veins pumping gods only know what to his withered old head from his unholy chassis. I feel like I should also note that there's some vague, possibly familial resemblance between the two cyborgs, with this new one looking a little like Magtok if he dried up in the sun like a raisin. Yeah, a raisin mounted to the front of a giant, horse-sized robot millipede. Ick.

"This should come as no surprise to you by now, but I have no better, child. Not in this broken era of soft, delicate larva," the robot millipede man proclaims with a mad old fiend's laugh, before affixing his hateful gaze on Magtok's left leg. The leg spontaneously begins to disassemble itself, plating and wires and machine oil scattering in every direction as a terrified Magtok can do little more than look on with half of his limbs gone in an instant. Oh gods, he's right, isn't he? Running to Trog's and trying to sound just afraid and helpless enough to recruit some passing hero was a terrible idea, especially now that he actually is that horrified and defenseless.

As Magtok is being dismantled on the tavern floor, another man steps into the tavern. "Excuse me, did someone just get thrown through the... window...?"

In the door frame, stands a two meters tall lanky man, dressed in dirty white clothes and a black coat. His black hair is wild and mane-like, his thuggish face criss-crossed with scars. On his waist are two sheathed swords.

In shorter words, he looks only slightly less villainous than the two fighting cyborgs.

The man in the doorframe rapidly looks back and forth between the giant millipede cyborg and Magtok, his hands shooting to the hilts of his swords. The initial shock on his face starts to turn into a predatory smile. "Gentlemen! What is the quarrel of the day?", he shouts to gain the cyborgs' attention. The way he asks his question is akin to how a normal customer might ask a waiter for the day's dish.

"As hypocritical of me as it is to say this... I think Trog's has had enough holes put into it, don't you?"

The newcomer (or rather, returning customer) in question stands by a rather large patch of freshly-laid bricks, where there used to be a conspicuous shuttle-shaped hole. Her hands are on her hips, one of which has a chrome-plated box strapped to it, about the size and shape of a lunchbox. Her hands have black gauze wrappings around them, as a quick and efficient way of cushioning the impact if she had to get involved with fisticuffs of her own. She's dressed in a white jacket and cargo pants, the former of which is open, exposing a black tanktop underneath, and a set of black, steel-toed boots that have been taped around the edges to avoid scuffing up the tavern floor. The auburn-haired woman approaches the duo- sorry, make that trio- with the confidence of someone who has faced down robots before and would readily do so again if the need arose.

"More to the point, we're all civilized beings here." Miranda chides. "Whatever qualms you two have, surely you can resolve it peacefully."

Arkant just smirks at the slimes thoughts. He then leaves her be as she is out of his sight. Not that this would stop him, but it was easy to see she went to sleep.

A simple no would have been enougth to keep him out. After all he gently knocked.

Arkant doesn't seem to walk around in this mind apartment. He has seen such things enougth and waits at the doorframe. he knows that the host should hear him so he speaks up.
"You are a bit young to threaten me with your bloodline. What are you worried about?"

Then Magtok comes flying in and his millipede like brother. That doesn't disturb the connection since he didn't go to far.

"Go on, I'm a spellcaster but I don't know who of you is a threat to me." he just replies to the millipede Magtok befor he goes back to the vampire boy.

Arthfael's eyes widen. He hadn't actually said that, had he? This stranger was still probing around his thoughts, and... why had he defaulted to his bloodline, anyway? He didn't even remember his time in Maesda.

"What... what do you want, exactly?" He stammers, trying not to sound terrified and clearly failing.

[Rebonack]

Honeysuckle will be provided with a refill on her drink just because Zee feels kind of bad about not being able to help much.

That's how things go sometimes.

Sometimes barmaids can't fix your curses and just give you more alcohol and soda instead.

Meanwhile!

There's a slimegirl under the bar now!

She'll discover that there is way more space down here than there ought to be. It's full of all sorts of random junk, like a lost and found drawer sort of? There's also this animated skeleton over there drinking from a bottle of wine and as a result spilling wine everywhere because he's a skeleton and hasn't got anywhere for the wine to go other than the floor. He doesn't seem interested in bothering the slime girl, though. Nor does Zee. Usually she scolds people for coming behind the counter but she decides to make an exception in this case since the ooze is clearly tired and her caustic body will probably clean up some of the grease stains down there anyway.

Also Meanwhile!

"Yeah cultists are definitely a real potential problem with people like me," Zee sighs, drumming her fingers on the counter. "I've gone to quite a bit of effort to avoid picking any up but that's tough when you're a gigantic mountain-sized dragon-deer-tree-thing that shines with the brilliance of a star. Unless you're really really careful people notice you. Just be glad that you don't have to deal with anything so inconvenient."

Zee definitely doesn't look like any of those things right now but has June see her when she lets the disguise slip just a little? It's quite dramatic.

"Okay so talking was tried but they were weird about it. That's fair; that's been my typical experience, too. The trying to shoot her part is definitely concerning. And the getting exposed to the... the heck were those things called... rumor elementals or something? Getting exposed to those was supposedly extra bad for fae. Since Venus is one of those due to the deer thing that's probably why she got hit so bad. BUT! Curing the deer part would make her not-fae again, which might clear up most of the other problem? Or at least make it more minor like what you're experiencing."

It sounds like plans might be coming together.

"Getting an Icon to cure faeness is something those friends of mine have been doing. They might be able to spare one for Venus. I would love to just go grab one myself from one of the Shrines but I'm not allowed to, if that makes any sense. I... guess... technically I can give one away, but I can't just give one away. There has to be a whole quest thing and that can be a giant hassle. But if you're really serious about helping Venus and getting rid of the cultists then that might be worth it," Zee reasons. "Do you want me to try talking to them? I can be pretty convincing. Maybe if I just tell them forcibly enough to leave Venus alone they'll do it? Or they might shoot me, I guess. Which wouldn't be THAT bad I've been shot before and I get over it pretty quick. Like that one time I got shot in the back of the head by Magtok."

Speaking of!

"Oh hey Magtok," Zee calls out as the cybrog crashes through the window. She stands up on her tiptoes a bit so she has a better view of him on the floor over there. "Do you need a hand or are you doing okay?"

Then the centipede guy comes skittering in and starts dismantling Magtok. Huh. That isn't Needs, is it? He speaks in yellow or orange or something usually, right? And that's not the squiddy Magtok, either. Zee is pretty sure she never met this one. Or if she did, he really doesn't stick out in her mind very much. Is he gloating about being OP like the absurdly powerful Townies and Acronymians of old? That might be the case, but there's no way he's going to be able to match their activity level which will give Zee plenty of time to plan this one out.

She could step in immediately.

Be decisive about this whole thing.

But typically she wants to avoid doing that. Every time she applies her nonsense that tips the scales a little more. She has to be judicious with her actions and if the adventurers of Trog's want to step in and do all the fighty parts then hey she is one hundred percent okay with that. It's too bad the new bouncer is on break hopefully he gets back before millipede season is over.

So!

In interest of not engaging in reality breaking nonsense Zee decides to settle for normal run of the mill nonsense instead.

"I'm glad you made it in today Magtok you're just in time the toaster is really acting up," Zee says as she steps around the counter, walks over to the damaged cyborg, and reaches out to grab him under the arms in a fireman drag. "That damaged robo-leg seems like a real problem; it's going to make walking around pretty hard. So I guess I'll just have to grab what you need for you? It's great that you can come on call so quickly."

Barring objection (let's be real here, Zee will completely ignore any objections Magtok has) she'll pull him back around the counter and pull out a decrepit, beaten up old toaster that looks almost as wrecked as the cyborg is.

"Do you think you can fix it for me? It's a really great toaster. A brave little toaster, even! It fell into some giant crushing gears to save its friends or something I guess."

[Recaiden]

"Hey Magtok. Long Magtok. How's going?" Honeysuckle says, not turning away from her recently refilled drink, but lifting a hand to wave.
She considers turning and trying to disintegrate one of them, but that lady over there is asking for a peaceful resolution.
And, like the other guy said, which one should it be?

No, better not to interfere.

[Gnrlshrimp]

"Were-spiders... that's got to be one barrel of confusion," Michalson observes. "Growin' a tail or extra mass is one thing, but extra limbs? I presume most of them spend their first change tryin' to untangle themselves."

"Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately I suppose, I wasn't there yet when it all happened." Ithuriel sighs and runs a hand through her hair, "I probably could've helped out a fair bit but it also would've been reeal awkward. As it is, I've helped a little, but things had mostly sorted themselves out already. But...yeah, can't imagine what it's like the first time someone goes were-spider."

Tilting her head, Kestrel looked at the bag with some curiosity. "Oh! I love dungeon delving! It's always fun to explore cool new places, so count me in! So uh, whatchu growing then? And what's some dryad want from some old temple?"

Atreyu grins, "Euphoria fruit. Makes ya feel real good and is gen'rally pretty light on the side effects. Ain't gonna say it's perfect. Somethin' gives ya good feelin's, yer always at risk of wanting more of it, but nothin' beyond that." He quietly slips the bag back away. "Grind the seeds down and they make a fine powder that burns real good. Unfortunately the stuff's a damn pain ta get growin' again round here, and they were originally made by a dryad, so another one's needed to get it workin'. And as fer what the dryad wants, it's pretty predictable. There's some kinda rare flowerin' plant that's stored in this temple that we gotta retrieve so she can add it to her garden." He leans forward, taking out another, small brown pouch that clinks as he sets it on the table. "And I ain't exactly rollin' in it at the moment, but I'm not gonna just offer lootin' rewards. So if yer willin' to take this probably dangerous adventure into the temple, I have a downpayment fer ya."

[Zefir]

Arkant is not afraid of saying such things and je smirks as his guess was on point. Not much hard work here since the boy showed signs of fear. The bloodline was a guess as he assumed he was a born vampire rather then bitten. Why should a Vampire bite a kid? They usually have less blood then grown people.

"To be true. I wanted to lend a hand by telling you what your girlfriend wants to say. but after your threat, I have other options." he makes an omniouse pause. "What is it you think I would want from you?"

[Ironsmith]

Ah, geez. What would a creepy psychic want with an unaccompanied minor in a tavern while everyone else was busy dealing with Magtok? Arthfael didn't know, but Arkant was likely to get it. Which, it goes without saying, probably wasn't going to be good for him.


Arthfael stumbles out of his chair and starts backing toward the bar. Normally, he'd go for the exit, but the 'Toks were in the way for that. His next best option would be toward an adult who might be willing to help him; luckily, his uncle's boss was available, if a little preoccupied with a toaster.

[Lord Magtok]

"Quarrel? You think this merits the word?" the disgusting man-insect cackles, his laughter only coming to a close when that iron lung-esque contraption pumps and hisses, forcing him to take a wretched, gasping breath. He rears up to his full height to look down on the tavern-goers, his thorax upright and his decaying old visage very nearly scraping the ceiling. Gods, what could've possessed this crazy old man to put himself in a body like this? His face is the only remotely human aspect of this entire thing, and even that barely qualifies anymore.

"Tell them, runt. Tell them what you are to me. How I might as well be cleaning out a petri dish, or tending to some overdue spring cleaning. Give our dear audience some perspective before they cross the thresh-"

"Sorry, can't talk! Fixing a toaster right now! Very important!" Magtok calls out from behind the bar, his voice unsteady as he prays that the big millipede man has the decency to murder everyone else in the tavern before it finishes him off. There's not a whole lot he can actually do to fix this toaster, since he only has one functioning arm to work with and he's preoccupied with the thought that he and everyone he's ever known might be fumigated out of existence like a house with a bad termite infestation, but it's still a welcome distraction at this most dire of hours. He actually manages to look at the toaster for a full tenth of a second before Big Bug Baddie takes a single step forward and our cyborg is shaking with fear again.

"They will die in ignorance, then," the anathema answers wearily, before turning its attention to Miranda and the fellow with the swords. "To put it plainly enough even children such as yourselves may understand, I'm here to wipe the slate clean. I set aside some leftovers in the back of my refrigerator fourteen years ago, and your Lord Magtok, your Nexus, is the end result," the thing explains contemptuously, regarding both Magtok and the entire world around him with the same distaste one would reserve a cockroach. A normal-sized cockroach, I mean, not a giant telekinetic man-sized thing. Before he's even finished explain, he squints at one of the lanky man's swords, attempting to seize its hilt with a unspeakably strong telekinetic grip, rip it out of its scabbard, and bury the blade in its own master's shoulder. The whole process looks about as straining and arduous as a single pen stroke, as simple as blinking to the mechanical aberration. And why shouldn't it? If the entire Nexus is but a moldy sandwich to this thing, each individual being from this world's motley assortment of heroes, villains, and other oddballs is even less than that, not even owed a proper hello before getting cast aside to Gehenna with the rest of the detritus.

[Ironsmith]

We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special news bulletin.

As in, Miranda has produced a helium pistol (similar to those used in Skyside) and is now trying to put a bullet in one of the millipede-man's forelegs.

She didn't expect this to do much damage. Mentally, she'd upgraded the threat level here from "deranged cyborg" to "omnicidal egomaniac with possible supernatural powers". That was a little more outside her capacity to handle (as she knew empirically from her experiences both outside and inside the Nexus), but getting shot was still annoying and if she wanted to stand any chance of incapacitating him at all, disorientation and distraction were going to be her best friends. If nothing else, it might prevent him from successfully mutilating the only other person who seemed interested in responding at this point.

"Yeah, yeah, we've all heard this speech before." She drones irritably. "'Me big, you small, me crush'. You're not impressing anyone." She gives him a taunting smile. "And it's just a little rich for you to be comparing us to a freak experiment, isn't it?"

As she speaks, her eyes are going all over this cyborg, trying to figure out what qualified as a weak point. Most of her hand-to-hand techniques were going to be more or less useless here; millipede man wasn't a human and didn't even vaguely resemble one. Balance also wasn't going to be an issue for him; while he had relatively little contact area to work with, all those legs means he's always going to be on his feet in some form, no matter how hard she hits him or where. He still needed air, or so the iron lung suggested, which meant he could also be winded and tired out if he strained himself too much, and would probably also be vulnerable to gas-based weaponry. The iron lung itself would also be a vulnerable component, but she didn't necessarily want to risk killing him. The head was another possible weakness; it was unlikely he hadn't considered that and reinforced it structurally somehow, but as the only visibly organic component, it represented the entirety of his sensory perception; which meant if she hurt it, he'd really feel it. If she was going to disorient him, that would be the place to aim for. She wasn't going to count on any damage to the legs or back being any more than superficial; they were probably armored, and in any case, redundant by nature.

So, based on that, she puts together a plan; now that she has his attention, focus on wearing him out. She was a trained fighter, he was on life support; it shouldn't be difficult for her to outlast him. If possible, direct his attentions such that he gets out of the tavern proper, away from possible civilian casualties. Once he's worn down enough to be experiencing breathing problems again, spritz him with some knockout gas. And if she needs to get his attention or tick him off, hit him in the head.

That particular plan was probably going to need some improvisational revision, and she could easily be wrong about his capabilities, but at least it was a plan.

[5a Violista]

Slimegirl under the bar

The slimegirl is fine just lying there for a while.
That is, until the noises and floor vibrations stop being 'normal conversation' and suddenly become 'death millipede with lots of shouting'.
Can't a girl just get some normal rest in a mildly-populated area?

She pulls herself farther into the space under the bar, past the skeleton, trying to get a little farther away.


Meanwhile

June agrees, being the size of a mountain and really shiny does sound very inconvenient. She remembers Zee sticking behind to face those janitorial cultists and something happened and she had to squeeze through something-or-other, and...oh, wait, that was the other one, Venus, who was there. Right.

"If there's not an unlimited number of them available," June says, referring to the Icons, "it's probably best to give it to someone who actually had serious side-effects. Lots of people had their identities or thoughts or names or memories changed, and it'd be really selfish to give it to someone who only got minor changes but just happens to have the right connections." Being turned into a female nature spirit apparently counts as minor. But she was able to personally counter the name-changing, still mostly kept herself fine thanks to the iron knife Raril gave her when they first met, and thanks to June was able to overcome all the other memory stuff that happened to it. And, as long as someone keeps their name, personality, and and especially identity, it doesn't really matter all that much what they look like.

June's about to concede that if nothing else works, they'll accept the anti-faeness thing, and that she'll accept Zee telling them off as a try, too, but.
Y'know.
Guy comes flying through window.
Giant robot human centipede guy.
As soon as she realizes what is happening, June considers trying to drag the human-cyborg (as opposed to the bug-cyborg) to safety, but...
Well, Zee was not only much faster at it, but also much better at it.

June would rather not die at the hands of a bug robot person, if she can help it, and it seems like he's already at least partially out of immediate harm.
She closes her eyes and lays her head on the bar counter, so that she can get a better 'look' at the human-cyborg Magtok, to make sure he's alright. He seems to be missing limbs, but apparently he's good enough to work on a toaster.

She grabs a napkin nearby and a pen, and writes on it.


June then slides the napkin over the bar at the Magtok there, who's working on the toaster.
It reads, Hey. Need help getting to the back door? I'm a decent crutch. Best to go now, while the bug's distracted by everyone.

[Zefir]

Arkant seems currently not intressed in the magtok fight. Even when the monstertok shows telekinetic powers. Those might be interesting, but how can you get them out of a robot? He's not used to operate with those. DNA is much easier to achive. Bloodsample, a hair, everything you can easily cut of or gather without them knowing. Well let's get back at the task at hand.

It is rather amusing how scared the child is now. Even more interessting is that he is right. Arthfael has a bit of a bad impression of the world around. Arkant laughts short in the mind of the minor.

"You are amusing. I ensure you I don't want to hurt you ar kill you." he says in a calm voice. "I would have offered a deal. A blood sample for helpiong you communicate with that girl."

[Vahnavoi]

The swordman's slowly inched forward while the millipede cyborg had his big speech, keeping one wary eye on the enemy and letting his other observe the other people around. He notes the auburn-haired woman ready for violence, and the barmaid who rapidly evacuates the man who was thrown through the window. The latter's good, at least. Spares him the trouble of trying to protect this Magtok fellow.

Then things start to get wild. He feels some external pull his swords out of their sheaths. Because his hands are already close, he catches them by their hilts, stopping his shorter sword just shy of piercing his own skin - to an outside observer, it might look like he drew his own sword and then stabbed his own shoulder.

The floor beneath the swordsman trembles and the air ripples. People who know of psychic powers might be able to tell that there is some kind of invisible clashing of wills going on. Slowly, the swordsman lowers his shorter blade and crosses it with the longer, adopting a fighting stance.

At about the same moment, the auburn-haired woman fires.

It's a signal as good as any - the swordsman pushes forward, or dashes forward, should the millipede cyborg's focus suffer and the telekinetic force grasping his swords yield. The swordsman noticed a squinting look in the cyborg's eyes a slit-second before his sword started acting on its own. That suggests telekines - specifically, sight-directed telekinesis. So his plan of action is very simple - take out the cyborg's eyes. He might just barely reach them with a slash of his longer sword...

[Ironsmith]

Arkant seems currently not intressed in the magtok fight. Even when the monstertok shows telekinetic powers. Those might be interesting, but how can you get them out of a robot? He's not used to operate with those. DNA is much easier to achive. Bloodsample, a hair, everything you can easily cut of or gather without them knowing. Well let's get back at the task at hand.

It is rather amusing how scared the child is now. Even more interessting is that he is right. Arthfael has a bit of a bad impression of the world around. Arkant laughts short in the mind of the minor.

"You are amusing. I ensure you I don't want to hurt you ar kill you." he says in a calm voice. "I would have offered a deal. A blood sample for helpiong you communicate with that girl."

Arthfael shakes his head. A blood sample? That was a colossally bad idea. Every drop Arthfael had was precious; Arkant would be better off asking him for a few months of his life. That'd probably be about how long it would take to recover. "No. Uh-uh. No way. Not worth it. And we were communicating fine, thank you." He backs toward the bar, toward Zee, in the hopes that would get Arkant to leave him alone.

[bc56]

MagNonsense
Across the tavern, a waitress finally notices the commotion. There are frequently commotions here. She's caused some of them.
Oh, that's actually something. Who is that guy? He throws all sorts of danger warnings on her sixth sense. She hands one of the mugs of beer she's holding to the dearf that ordered it. Then she sidles towards the millipede cyborg.
Don't pay attention to her.
Just a normal waitress. Don't mind her.

[Rebonack]

To June, Zee will inform her, "Not unlimited. But nothing is ever unlimited, is it? They should all be used. And I would prefer them being used to break fae enchantments than more nefarious things."

Then shootings and stabbings!

Well this just got a bit more violent didn't it?

Some people might argue that violence directed at Magtok doesn't really count as violence but Zee has never held that position. She was always the sort to defy the Mag-Collective's insistence that they were al the same Magtok.

They aren't, as far as she's concerned.

All individuals.

Similar individuals, but individuals none the less.

Since the fighting broke out she considered no less than a dozen or more different plans of action ranging from flagrantly absurd to brutally fight-ending.

What she settled on, however, is something a little more subtle.

Subtle, at least, to the outside observer. Less subtle to anyone keeping an eye out for cheaty nonsense. The perfectly normal human barmaid (you suspect nothing) invokes the Spheres of Matter and Will and then twists.

{Reality Has Shifted}

Millitok may find imposing his will upon the matter around him has become significantly more difficult.

When the lad backs away from the weird guy talking about blood Zee will motion for him to slip behind the bar with her. It's good place to hide.

And speaking of hiding!

The slime girl finds a pretty great spot behind a box of ear muffs that are absorbing most of the noise coming her way.

[Morty]

"Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately I suppose, I wasn't there yet when it all happened." Ithuriel sighs and runs a hand through her hair, "I probably could've helped out a fair bit but it also would've been reeal awkward. As it is, I've helped a little, but things had mostly sorted themselves out already. But...yeah, can't imagine what it's like the first time someone goes were-spider."

"I guess it's like puberty. Only more sudden and worse." Michalson scratches his beard. "Worst part about that, for me, was trying to grow facial hair. It's damnably difficult when you're a half-elf. This took me ten years and more work than most anything I've done in my life."

[Zefir]

Well Zee shouldn't have heared a thing about this whole blood exchange as Arkant is talking in his mind with the boy. So nothing more then his order has crossed his lips and on top it is only an offer for a deal no threat has been spoken out.

"Oh young boy, if I told you what she was thinking you would agree." he sais in his mind. "You migth assume you got all she wanted to say, but I guess you only heared 1/16 at best. Maybe we could hagel a bit, what do you want to offer?"

[Lord Magtok]

"Hahaha! Ha ha! Hahahahahaha!" the big millipede monster man fills the room with his raspy, hideous laughter, even as the peasants dare to strike back against him. One shoots off a forelimb, as another cuts a bloody swath across his face, taking out both his eyes. Even still, he continues to laugh at them, thinking so shockingly little of their attempts to stop him. Hell, that one barmaid who seemed to recognize Magtok even manages to twist reality itself in an effort to slow him down, and yet...

"You have heard such talk before, this is true, but your past foes were not like me, child. There are none like me," the disgusting creature boasts, even as a stream of black, steaming blood drips from his wounded face and eats through the floor below like acid. Even the gnarled old monster's skin doesn't seem to agree with the strange fluid, with skin getting cauterized shortly after contact with the foul stuff.

"You see, I am your regent, your rightful master. The Alpha and the Omega, God-Emperor in the highest. I am your LORD, MAGTOK, and you will KNEEL!" Magtok Prime proclaims, his words flooding with a overpowering urge to obey, to accept him as your owner, your god. To carve open your own chest, to reach into your aching ribcage and make a sacrificial offering of your own heart, so that he might smile upon your final moments and bless you as one of his favored children. That last part doesn't quite happen thanks to Zee's meddling, but her shifting of reality is like trying to put a muzzle on a dragon. It won't hold forever; what she has achieved is little more than spitting in the face of an angry god. An angry god whose many forelegs are now covered in hundreds of sharp barbs, all of them reaching out to pull the swordsman's head into a thorny, deadly embrace, which will be so much easier if he's been made to kneel after that little monologue.


Elsewhere, Magtok finds that kneeling is really hard when you only have one leg. He shoots a frantic, desperate nod to June, hoping that she's still good for that helping hand out of this awful mess, despite the unholy commandment slithering through every listening ear and unguarded mind in the room. Gods, what the hell kind of power was that?! It was like an entire choir of angels was in his ear, compelling him to obey or have his soul evaporated. He's half-robot too; those kinds of mind games aren't supposed to work on a brain that's only half organic!

[Vahnavoi]

The swordsman feels the satisfaction of a job well done as his blade slashes across the monster's face, spilling acidic blood around. Well that was easy...

... wait why is this guy laughing?

The swordsman keeps his guard, cautiously circling around the millipede cyborg. The words make paltry little sense to him. Magtok? Wasn't Magtok the other man who got thrown through the win-

Then the commanding words strike his ears. The swordsman grimaces, dropping to one knee, barely resisting the impulse to drop his swords and cover his ears. Another type of psychic power? A verbal compulsion?

The approaching barbs don't give him a whole lot of time to wonder about that. He's in a fight. He's being attacked. His swords are still up. His body knows what to do, it has a will of its own. The conscious mind is a useless hanger-on.

So, the swordsman lunges up from the half-kneeling position - towards the barbs, towards the center of the millipede's mass. His left arm performs token defense with his shorter sword, deflecting enough of the barbs to allow him to move forward, even if some of them will inevitably graze his face. His focus is on his right arm bearing his longer sword, aiming to pierce upward through the millipedes body.

[Meowmai]

Atreyu grins, "Euphoria fruit. Makes ya feel real good and is gen'rally pretty light on the side effects. Ain't gonna say it's perfect. Somethin' gives ya good feelin's, yer always at risk of wanting more of it, but nothin' beyond that." He quietly slips the bag back away. "Grind the seeds down and they make a fine powder that burns real good. Unfortunately the stuff's a damn pain ta get growin' again round here, and they were originally made by a dryad, so another one's needed to get it workin'. And as fer what the dryad wants, it's pretty predictable. There's some kinda rare flowerin' plant that's stored in this temple that we gotta retrieve so she can add it to her garden." He leans forward, taking out another, small brown pouch that clinks as he sets it on the table. "And I ain't exactly rollin' in it at the moment, but I'm not gonna just offer lootin' rewards. So if yer willin' to take this probably dangerous adventure into the temple, I have a downpayment fer ya."

"Huh, really? I've never heard of it before." That wasn't really that surprising though. Kestrel might have had some plant knowledge thanks to her childhood on a farm and a touch of ranger training, but there was plenty she didn't know still. On top of that, she was still new her. This Euphoria fruit thing probably didn't exist where she came from.

She eyed the bag of coin with some surprise. "I already said I was in! Danger doesn't change that. Makes me more interested, actually. Where's the fun in adventure without a little risk? "But uh, you sure about the coin? I mean, I haven't even done anything yet..." Kestrel still felt Atreyu was being too generous to her- after all, he had already purchased her dinner!