Fear and Loathing
13th of January 2007 A.D.
As you sail though the air a words flow though your mind, a verse from some ling forgotten poem:
The spark of creation sets the fires of ruin
As the sundering chaos is creation's sin
No sooner had you landed on the other side that you push: tools from the air, tendrils unseen to rip from chaos-to-be-order. From the outside it must have looked like some mad melange of a explosion in an industrial parts factory and the fingers of an fingers of an alien giant reaching in to briefly touch this reality. Each grenade is thus neatly sliced just below the firing pin, then pitted like a cherry. Snapping together in front of you they are transmuted into something like an alien
useless box formed; a switch that did nothing but flip itself off formed from firing pins, would be shrapnel, and strips of casing.
Lost 2 Essence and 1 Willpower -> Now at 9/15 Essence and 8/9 Willpower (MHM Crafting Excellency and TTC)
"No!" the word snaps out without thought, more like you are disciplining a dog than a would be mass murderer.
"Forzare!" Harry's blast of force that moments before would have swept up most of the grenades now still has the power to push a befuddled Jaida off her feet and pin her against the wall by the door.
Silk watches in wide eyed shock that turns to horror when the server who had pushed the cake in front of you pulls out a handgun and shouts: "Die, leech's whore!"
It's not a burst of gunfire that follows but instead a clang of flying plates as Lydia pulls the trolley up like a Roman shield then flings it at the guy, pinning him under the wheels and knocking the gun from his hands.
"What the fuck, Larry!" Silk shouts. Something silver glitters in her hand, like a treasure seen under deep water flashes in her hand, half formed magic like a heady scent upon the air still mercifully unrealized. The last handful of guests are panicking, running for the front doors, they had not seen or maybe had not registered the grenades, but the gun was obvious enough, one drops what looks like black gym bag in his haste...
Deliberate. The eyes all around, your eyes see at once the material and
though the material, there is more explosive in that bag than in all six of those grenades put together. It sparks and sputters, some kind of half-baked chemical reaction that scorches the velvet underfoot and strips the knee of one statue bare of faux gold.
"It's coming! It's coming!" Larry laughts maniacally and in that moment you hear the least welcome sound you could have, the fire alarm going off in the corridor behind where Lash and Harry are still standing.
If it had not been for the fight the people there would likely have already made it out and to safety, as is there are maybe eight more people there including the arguing couple, far from the mass casualty event Sandra might have planned for but still eight people too many.
What do you do?
[] Pull everyone out telekinetically, Tiffany can heal them if they have been exposed (Automatic success; some people will be exposed; you will have to explain the magical healig)
[] Try to break the sprinklers or the pipes leading to them before any of the VX and be spread (Perception+Technology roll to figure out what to tear up in time)
[] Write
OOC: A bit of a short update, but such is combat. 
