Changing Winds
28th of January 2007 A.D.
How high the stacks go one cannot know, for in this realm built upon the aping of modernity, the laws of science do not hold. How high is Hell? As high as its master might wish it, but on this day and in this hour. In your right hand's a vial of honey-thick potion, like ginger and peppers, like mint with a hint of copper underneath,
speed. Like an arrow from a bow you rise, on wings of essence screaming as you cut the air amid a million alarms. Turrets turn in place like the joints of some great mechanical beast, drones alter their path ready to swarm the presumptuous 'shikome' who had dared some here. Not fast enough, nowhere near.
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 13/15 (Windborn Stride)
All around space twists to the whims of Mikaboshi, here is then the pinnacle of his foul work, essence in disharmony woven, the cavernous steel maw of the stacks breathes out smoke enough to poison the whole world if it is but allowed to. In your left hand 's a a vial of silvery pollen born of a flower new-bloomed to hope, warm as the touch of another's hand. "God speed," you say as you throw the vial in.
They'll need all the help they can get.
For a moment the sliver of glass hangs in mid air, as though the warp and weft of the tainted chi recoils from it, but hope is an infectious thing, it
bursts.
For the first time in all the time since the it had been stitched screaming from the fabric of Yomi by a madman's ambitions the wind in the Wicked City changes, like ozone and water lilies, like fresh turned earth, like all the things the damned remember only that they should hate themselves.
You fall back towards the mid-levels, fist first though the pair of drones grabbing the latter by the wing and flinging it into the nearest watch tower. It must have hit something important since the whole thing starts spurting liquid flame, as though that particular corner of hell had temporarily forgotten how plasma is meant to work.
"[Kindle-Flame-Rebelion-in-Being]"
Had any of the Greater Akuma been about to look upon the halls of their master in that moment they might have been surprised to hear the word in Enochian uttered by another of the attacking shikome, but all the lesser watchers can do us rub their eyes in agony and re-calibrate their sensors as two arrows of burning Yang strike the side door Clippy and the others had marked as the best point of entrance.
Nergui uses 2 Yang Chi from Jade Talisman -> Talisman at 1/3
Dark corridors streaked with rust that forms strangely angular shapes open up into a tangle of alien design meant to prevent any intruder from piercing it while refining the taint in the air as a still draws spirits from wine. Yet to you it is as though the creaking of the panels, the wail of alarms whispers secrets, left, right... pry open the cap to the feeder tube...
All is Poison increases to +2 DC
"Corrosive puddles!" you call back to Nergui, the only one who might pass through them, Lydia and Tiffany are both staying well clear of the walls.
"Movement ahead!" Lydia says, almost at the same moment.
They certainly aren't hard to spot in the darkness of the corridor, humanoid though certainly not human, with chalky skin and mouths perpetually open in a silent scream, their eyes pits weeping tar, the 'citizens' ahead aren't soldiers though that does not mean they are not armed. Each of them has had their right hand replaced with a ghoulish mix of drill and saw that oozes the same viscous substance. Part of you expected some kind of perfunctory warning like you'd read in the mid-levels. Instead they hurl themselves at you eerily silent... or at least seven of the eight figures do so.
You decapitate two in a single sweeping gesture, while Nergui tramples one and almost contemptuously backhands another into the wall, denting the wall with the weight of the blow, though Lydia struggles to choke a third and Tiffany slips, almost falling in one of the puddles, the twisted chi doing its work.
"Leave them to my hands! That's why I brought them!" Lydia shouts and so you might have done but for one thing that none of you had anticipated.
Another blade whirs... and sinks into the back of one of the pair trying to swarm Tiffany. He says something in a language that's definitely not English, Japanese or Korean maybe, but you can recognize the tone... hope.
"He wants us to take him with us," Tiffany translates automatically as you kill off the remaining three who want no such thing. Guessing your thoughts once-Fallen continues: "There's no way he can keep up."
What do you do?
[] Take the Bakemono with you
[] You cannot afford to slow down. Tell him if she wants to fight the sentinels that are coming up behind you
[] Write in
OOC: That is a regular DEX 3 fomori with no movement powers for the record.