Shooting civilians isn't exactly my style, but between the fact that ElecTech palm stunners are guaranteed 100% nonlethal and the nagging thought in the back of my head asking when exactly I would be willing to fire if I wasn't going to shoot someone holding a gun on me, I take a breath and steady my shivering body.

Keep the friendly smile up, don't give them a clue. "D-d-don't y-you m-mean f-f-f-Freeze?"

Judging by their weapons, they shouldn't be familiar with anything as small as my stunner, so they probably think I'm unarmed. I move both my hands up, forearms vertical, hands curled, and with some care begin to aim...

Ok, so, feel for the first button, turn on the optic link, join up with the cybernetic... first... button... damn my hands are cold, can't feel the damn buttons. I try a wireless link, but I pick up... nothing. Or at least not my stunner. Some audio channels, and an image link that, after a moment's hacking (terrible security) just shows me darkness, probably from inside someone's pocket.

I look down at my hand in confusion, look at the stunner and for a moment I'm just a mess of confusion as two images float around in my vision. One image is what I expect- a smooth white cylinder with a tiny silver arc projector protruding out one side, the other... a smooth light grey cylinder that is... well, a rock, to be perfectly blunt. As I stare at it, the images coalesce and only the rock is left.

A fulgurite, I think it's called. Pretty sure rocks like this were thought to protect against lightning strikes by some ancient religion? I dunno. I look at it in disbelief for a moment, then sigh and toss the thing to the side.

I wait for the kid to finish on his radio while my mind whirs.

"Ok, look kid, just chill. You don't have to be all hot-headed here. Put the gun down and take some time to chat, and you'll see we're pretty cool. I..." my mind locks up and I grimace. "Yeeeah, look, can we skip to the part where you take us somewhere warm? I'm kind of running out of material."

"I can't speak for him, but I was taken here against my will, and last I checked being kidnapped's not a crime. We talked a bit, and that's not a crime either, and unless you've got laws outside the Legion Aegis then using corpses as needed in a survival situation is also legal. So, unless you've got some real reason to shoot us, I'd appreciate you putting the gun down."

Vata's eyes widened somewhat in surprise when Xavier vanished, seemingly just from Alex waving his hand. Xavier didn't cry out or anything before he vanished, but before Vata could speculate as to what actually just happened, Alex explained what just happened. Apparently his clones were temporary, and were weaker in some way compared to Alexavier's united self. He could also make many copies of himself, presumably more than the two he saw, but he didn't have some sort of crystal-like thing. Was that the object Xavier asked him about earlier?

Alexavier looked somewhat bothered when he said that he had heard of neither the Abeyance nor Nishi'an. This only made Vata more worried about their situation. Why would Alexavier know how to speak his language if he didn't even know about Nishi'an, the political center of the South? Before he could ask where Alexavier was from, Alexavier asked him something that revealed a possibility that Vata had not even thought to consider.

You're not from Xela Redna, are you?

"I am not from Xela Redna, wherever that place is. If neither of us have heard of locations that are obviously very important to us, then... Spirits preserve me, is it possible we have both been transported to some alternate physical plane that neither of us know about? As ridiculous as it sounds, it seems to be the only possible explanation for our lack of knowledge regarding where we are both from, the condition I found myself in, and a...rather difficult to describe feeling I'm getting."

Dimitri watched Herbert's ritual with the dead girl solemnly, not wanting to offend in anyway. Where the monk was from, once a Silver Fist Elite fell they were burned after sunset with spiced wood and herbs and the ashes were collected in an urn. The comrades would spend the rest of the night sharing food and strong drinks, reminiscing on the deceased's life and achievements in battle. Just before the setting of the moon on that same night, the ashes were cast into the wind to find their own path. It was a rare occasion indeed, simply because the Silver Fist Elites rarely died in battle.

He was wary of the two arrivals, but not overly concerned as none of them seemed to be ready to attack . He waved as Ryann introduced everyone and moved a cautious few steps closer to Dzel, running his gaze over her wounds. Nothing too serious once he got out of the cold, he was certain he could take care of them for her. She had the look of a warrior, steady eyes and a confident posture amidst the gore surrounding them. He nodded at Will and Dzel "Aye, I can have a look at those wounds for you but I'm afraid all of my reserved energy is being directed towards keeping me warm enough in this blasted icy wasteland. Once I get inside I'll need a few moments to recover then I should be able to take care of those for you if you like Dzel. but I doubt they are bothering you much" he finished with a slight smile.

Once Herbert was finished with the body, Dimitri moved towards the stairway leading into what was left of the castle and hopefully towards warmth and strong mead But he could only hope for now.

"Lets have a look at those supplies you mentioned Will. I do hope they are inside out of this dreadful cold."

A particularly sharp wind sent a chill running down Herbert’s neck like a lightning bolt, causing him to grimace, but he tried to supress to urge to shiver. Giving up his coat was invariably stupid. However, as Will pointed out, he valued the woman’s dignity in death more. He just hoped that there was someplace warm, and the castle wasn’t a hollow cave of ice and frozen stone.

Herbert waved the compliment away dismissively. “You have more sense than me then,” he grumbled.

Bizbee nudged Herbert in the side of the face, and his waving hand went absentmindedly to the creature, his fingers pattering hard bone as he stroked. It took a short while for Herbert to realise, whereupon he withdrew the hand and coughed into it. Then he stood rigid and folded his arms, bracing against the cold.

So, it seemed nobody knew what had happened here. Apart from the perhaps girl on the altar but – well, that was a dead end, quite plainly. At the mention of the supplies, his ears pricked up. His stomach rumbled lamely and his mouth felt dry. He had entirely forgotten how long it had been since he had eaten or drank a thing. Moreover, clothes! As fortune had it, he may not live his final hours as a chattering, frostbitten lump of frozen meat after all. No small blessing that Herbert counted.

Guns were a doubled edge sword; they could protect them, yes, but how much could he trust everyone here? Not with his life, that much was certain. He warily eyed the weapons Will and Dzel held. Dzel’s unfamiliarity with the item was obvious, the awkward way she handled it was a sharp contrast to Will, who seemed surprisingly more comfortable. Herbert made due note of this.

The radiation explained the ill feeling, or it would have, if Will hadn’t assured them it was too low to cause harm unless they had a fortnight of exposure. Whilst Herbert was not terribly familiar with radiation, he knew of radiation poisoning, and levels as low as Will claimed would have a delayed onset when one entered the immediate vicinity; a couple of hours, Herbert hazarded. Either Will was giving false information, or something else was causing that foreboding, leaden feeling in the gut. Herbert wasn’t sure how he felt about this revelation. He would have to ask to see the Geiger-Müller counter Will was using; until he saw the reading with his own eyes he was not believing anything, and even then, it could be faulty. Quite the dilemma. Perhaps it would simply be best to try to leave the area as quickly as possible, and put a good few yards of stone between them and the source.

“Very distant”

An understatement. Herbert had never heard of the “Eastern Ridges” or the “Silver Fist Elites” Dmitri had spoken of, but that could simply be because it was part of the uncivilised world. Ryann on the other hand… She must have been from a different world altogether. She hadn’t even offered her place of origin in introduction, but Herbert guessed it would be unbeknownst to him. He had never heard of a place with a winged populace, save for Heaven’s Angels.

“I can have a look at those wounds for you”

The words were practically stolen out of Herbert’s mouth, which hung open dumbly. He shut it and furrowed his brow. There was likely nothing Dimitri could do for her, other than perhaps find a cleaner dressing and ensure the wounds had been cleaned thoroughly. Unless they found some alcohol or iodine solution. Then a great deal could be done.

He brushed his hand brusquely against his trouser legs and looked around quickly. His eyes slid quickly across the charred corpses, now destined to be part of the landscape, but he said a silent prayer when his eyes fell upon the girl again.

Turning his attention back to Will, he held out a gesturing arm and bobbed his head curtly, arching his brow; an invitation for him to follow the great monk first. The wind nipped again and made his hairs stand on end. He brought the arm back and rubbed his body firmly, crossing it with the other after he was warm enough.

Ryann stood close by. Her spindly form stood out against the vast mountains and immense blankness of snow and empty sky. She had introduced him as Bert, and he wasn’t sure whether to correct her. He hadn’t at the time. Maybe it would just stick now. It didn’t matter terribly. He tried a comforting smile in her direction, but it was uneasy; half from the dire need of practise, and half from the little wings that twitched on her back. Realising this was probably not a pleasant sight; he instead asked the first question that came to his mind.

“Where are you from?”

Bizbee chittered at this question, crawling around the back of Herbert’s collar to reach to other shoulder to see whom he was talking to; its attention fixated on Dzel until then. It chirped at Ryann.

Karnage, Jon & Gemma

“Kidnapped?” Zesiro sounded skeptical. He did not lower his weapon upon request. “Who kidnapped you?” Zesiro also wanted to ask why, but that question could wait. The ugly one was an anomaly and may have been targeted for that reason alone. As for the man, his story was less obvious, though he seemed to speak for the pair. “Do you have names?” Zesiro asked. “We can get you somewhere warm, if you answer my questions.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jon would notice something… His stunner.

It was in the cold, dead, green hand. The body lay half-charred several feet behind and to the left of Zesiro and Gemma.

Vata

Alexavier watched Vata with a furrowed brow. “Either you are mad… Or you are correct. Anyone should know me… at least… in my... world.” He shivered. The idea that he had traversed dimensions somehow against his will was a disturbing one. “We need more information. Let us look to see if we can find anyone else in this wretched place…”

“I would be happy to acquiesce your request!” A deep and jolly voice called out from the snow shroud around them. They would turn to see a man wearing winter gear, tall boots, and a coat with many pockets. He had had long braided hair and a sly smile. His arms were weaponless, open, as if he were ready to give them a hug. Behind him were three other men, matching coats and pants and tinted goggles. They had weapons but their muzzles were pointed to the snowy ground.

“My name is Twain. I am here on a mission to figure out… Well... What the hell is going on here.” He rolled his head from side to side as he spoke. “Do you think that either of you could clue me in on that one?”

Ryann, Herbert, Dimitri, Will

Once the troupe left the gruesome scene of ritual, down the stairs, and into the room below they would see that William had told the truth. There were 12 backpacks, one of which Will had already ransacked.

Each backpack contained a set of winter clothes: Boots, thermal pants, coat, underwear, cap, gloves, and scarf. These were the cloths of experienced campers. Each backpack also contained a flashlight, utility knife, camping stove and cans of spam and Siva-Cup instant coffee packets. Each backpacked also contained at least one unique item, something personal…

2) A family photo of some sort, two women, one young and one old.
3) A bottle of tylenol, and a book: “In the Name of the Wind.”
4) A deck of well-used playing cards.
5) One had nothing unique in it…
6) Chocolate bars, TARDIS socks, and and gold-titanium alloy ring.
7) The most recent issue of Playboy magazine, and an ipod with only ukulele music on it.
8) Yarn and a half knitted sweater, a penny whistle, and a bottle of Lynx.
9) A bottle of ‘Peachtree’ peach schnapps, and a bag of dice: Some of the die had 20 sides, or 10, 6, 8, 4... 1.
10) A Sudoku book,TARDIS socks, and gold-titanium alloy ring
11) A rather large bag of marshmallows and graham crackers.
12) A sketchbook with an array of oil pastels and blunted pencils

Dzel walked quietly and took a seat in the corner. Dimitri said he wanted to look at her wounds so she began to peel off her armor. She did not seem to care for her own modesty in this process. She revealed the bruises on her neck, arms, and cheek. As she removed the mail shirt large deep claw-marks could be found on her shoulder and thigh. She winced as she lifted the chain mail from these areas. The wounds were deep but not bleeding, they had congealed somehow, the areas were wet and sticky. With such wounds the girl should not have been walking around.

She shrugged. “I’m tough…”

Much to his dismay, there were no large kegs of mead within the castle. None whatsoever. At least not in the room they were in, but Dimitri was sure there was more to this place. There was at least a fireplace in the room and a reasonable stack of dry firewood nearby. It seemed they had ended up in some kind of receiving room by the looks of the decor and seating scattered about the room. He shook his head at the bland, unimpressive entrance hall. At least it was warmer down there but still a little damp. Nothing a roaring fire could not rectify though.

Dzel moved with the sort of grace that a seasoned warrior moved with. That deadly grace that every veteran worth a damn carried with them and he watched as she found a corner to sit in then proceeded to confidently strip off her armor, revealing well defined curves and equally toned muscles. With much effort, Dimitri managed to pull his gaze from Dzel and ran it over the bags on the floor. Twelve all together, one had already been picked clean by William earlier. The glinting of the bottle caught his eye first naturally. He moved towards that bag; first removing the peach schnapps with a sly smile to set it aside for later then he withdrew a pair of warm gloves from the bag and tucked those away in his robe. Everything that remained was of little interest to the monk. His attention was drawn back towards Dzel as she commented about being tough and he nodded in her direction with a smile.

"“I need a few minutes to prepare“" he informed her quietly, kneeling beside her.
Since they had been out of the cold, Dimitri had been able to gradually suppress his energy once his core body temperature had began to rise.
"Oh that reminds me!"” he commented through closed eyes. "“How do I put this? You’'re not undead or anything right? If you were I'm afraid this would not work so well." Sparing a glance towards Bizbee "Sorry buddy, try not to get hurt OK?"”

A green aura gradually materialized around the monk as he stirred and refocused his energy. It built up steadily and in a few minutes a well of green light erupted around his body then receded into back into his body as he moved the energy down to his arms and focused it further into his hands. He smiled at Dzel before slowly reaching out towards her.
"“Now! If you can excuse my roaming hands, I will begin."”

Under normal circumstances and if he was well rested, direct contact was not necessary when it came to healing. But given the extreme cold and the fact that he no longer had his Mace, it would be necessary for him to actually touch Dzel to stimulate her body's own energies for the healing process.

Glowing hands hovered near her face for a moment before he ran them over the worse of the bruises.
"“You'’re going to feel a strange sensation as my energy tries to connect with your own internal energy to speed up your body’'s own natural healing process. It’'ll feel kind of warm, almost like a minor burn. Sorry if it is uncomfortable, but it'’s best if you don’'t try to resist, so just try to keep your mind blank."” he instructed gently as his hands moved over the wounds on her face.

They moved deftly from wound to wound Starting from her face, down her neck and to her arms. The smaller bruises would clear up almost instantly but the larger more serious bruises would take a few heartbeats to clear up, requiring more of the monk’s energy to stimulate the healing process.

He paused as his hands found the deep gashes on her shoulder.
"“Oh?"” he whispered quietly as he investigated them further.

Dimitri said nothing more to Dzel, but his eyes flicked to hers briefly. He wanted to ask for more information as to the origin of the claw marks, but perhaps now was not the time. From what he had gathered from all the new acquaintances thus far, none of them really seemed fit for combat and Dimitri had a feeling he would need Dzel to be in good shape so for now, he would focus on patching her up.

The claw marks felt strange, they were not ordinary wounds. They had a similar feel to wounds that had been inflicted by the use of catalyst magics, or wounds by a potent magical being. The monk had experienced many of these kinds of wounds back on Temperance and although Dzel’'s felt strange to him; a different sort of energy signature than what he was used to, they had that same basic feeling and they resisted his energy a lot more aggressively than the other wounds.

Another well of green erupted from him as he drew on more energy for the claw marks which she also had on her thigh. Those were even deeper than the ones on her shoulder. It would be very taxing on Dimitri to heal them all but it had to be done. With great effort, Dimitri felt the resistance give and he felt the shoulder wounds begin to close up from the base of the wound outward. Torn muscles began to knit together and several minutes later the deep gashes were reduced to long, thick, angry purple lines.

Dimitri'’s aura flickered briefly, almost completely diminishing. "Not yet”!"he growled through clenched teeth and a few minutes passed before the monk regained his composure. His eyes flashed a deep emerald green and the green light around his body ignited once more as he moved to Dzel’'s thigh. Dimitri sighed heavily once he felt the wound'’s resistance give and after several more grueling minutes, they knitted closed.

An unnatural breeze radiated outwards from where he was kneeling at Dzel'’s side as he finished the healing and released his energy. The monk ungracefully toppled onto his back with a chuckle. Through several ragged breaths he muttered “"I need a drink!"”before rolling his head towards Dzel once he caught his breath.
"“Those wounds will be a little tender for the next day or so, but they should'n’t prevent you from moving or killing anything if the need arise. Also, you’'ll probably get really drowsy in the next few moments since I’'ve just set your body'’s natural healing talents into overdrive! So don’t be afraid when your head starts drooping and Feel free to fall right on top of me if you wish”!" he offered with a smile then continued, "“because I intend to just lay here for the next hour or two until I can stand up again."
With that, he chuckled once more and pointed towards the bottle of peach schnapps.
"“Someone toss me that bottle please!"”

"Names are pretty, but useless. But you may call me Tyrael. As for why I am here, that is something I would like to discover myself. No doubt that I am different then you in many ways, which may be why I am here. Though I promise you, I do not intend to cause any harm to the living. Yet." At least not until Karnage could get his hands on his axe. If he had a weapon then he'd be a bit more aggressive. After all, diplomacy was like saying "Good doggy" until you can find a big rock. If Karnage could see if would have found himself a nice size rock to hurl for himself, but alas. He just hoped these humans would hurry up and start giving him answers. Gods knows that he hardly knows what's going on.

I grin and roll my eyes at the big guy's speech, then shrug at him "Ah, classic Tyrael... Yeah, and I'm his seeing eye dwarf; Johnathan Fitzgerald, formerly of the Legion, originally of Enki, and most recently from a hotel room at line-top around Tau Ceti e..." I pause... behind the pair and to the left, something's caught my eye... a small white cylinder, in the hand of a charred corpse...

Should I try to grab it? If I run- no, I'd be as likely to fall flat on my face as to be shot, and far more likely to be shot than reach it, unless... unless they weren't the kind of people who'd shoot you. I could try it, just walk slow towards the stunner, not make any threatening movements, and then... and then, if it worked, I'd have shot two people who wouldn't shoot a man if he wasn't trying to kill them.

I sigh "Kidnapped, abducted, shanghaied, skyjacked, waylayed, spirited away... take your pick. And you can quit with the suspicious tone, unless you have some reason to suspect freezing to death is all part of my nefarious plan."

"I mean, out of everyone here, you two are the most suspicious, seeing as you clearly planned ahead for your trek to the mountain top covered in corpses in the middle of nowhere on some backwater planet... or where you just passing through?" I manage to unwrap a hand from around my chest long enough to gesture at them, and then to point at the green guy with my stunner, though I'm having to fight with myself the whole damn time to get the next words out.

I talk slow and deliberate, betraying some . "In fact, if that very dead xeno didn't have something of mine clenched in his fist, I'd be convinced that you and your buddies are the culprits... as it is, I'd suggest that he's a pretty good suspect." And there it is. I hate chance- I never take a chance when I can possibly choose a sure thing, even if it meant rigging the dice but... I had to make a gamble here. There wasn't a way out without rolling a die, so... I guess I just have to grit my teeth, bear with my dislike, and hope I'd chosen the right table.

Alexavier seemed troubled by the possibility of Vata's speculation being true. As he suggested that they try to gather some more information, or even try to find someone else in this frozen wasteland, someone interrupted him.

I would be happy to acquiesce your request! said someone with a deep, jovial voice. Vata turned around to see who it came from, and it seemed to be a man who was dressed much better for the weather than they were, but the clothes he wore were of unfamiliar make, and he did not seem to be making any attempt to hide his face from the cold. Standing behind him were three more men, each in gear of similar make, but with faces concealed and were holding objects that reminded him of guns, but they seemed far too small for that. Whatever they were, none of the men seemed to mean them any harm. When the man noticed that he had their attention, he addressed himself to Alexavier and Vata.

My name is Twain. I am here on a mission to figure out…well…what the hell is going on here. Do you think that either of you could clue me in on that one?

Vata shrugged. "You may call me Vata, and neither of us here know where we are, or why we're here. By any chance, do you have any answers to the former? You seem to have come prepared for this accursed cold, something that we did not have the chance to do."

Words like handgun, radiation flew right over Ryann’s head while Will spoke to them, though she briefly noted that whatever ‘radiation’ was, it sounded dangerous and would be best avoided until she knew more about it. Questions came later, though. Instead, she focused on what she did understand and was most familiar with: survival gear. The sudden knowledge that she wouldn’t be out trying to survive here without supplies had Ryann taking a slow, momentary breath of relief. It felt cold, and soon she was pulling her arms and wings closer to her small frame. She wouldn’t be cold for much longer though, if what Will said is true, and that made her a little less anxious than before.

Ryann noted Dzel when Dimitri moved closer to her, being a bit curious herself as to the extent of the woman’s wounds, but couldn’t get a very close look. The woman herself looked well enough though that Ryann didn’t worry too much, and if she did, Dimitri’s offer to help her later soon set it to rest. The fact that so far, everyone here seemed kind enough had her feeling calmer, but still just as antsy to get out of the alter room.

She followed the rest quietly when Will began to lead them out of the alter room, walking close behind Herbert who followed after Dimitri. She didn’t look back at any of the corpses, even though curiosity was stupidly giving her the urge to. Instead, she glanced over at Herbert, who walked beside her. He gave her a kind but uneasy smile which made her smile politely in return, though it probably looked just as uneasy. She was aware of how many glances he’d given her wings, and wondered if maybe he had a reason to dislike people with wings? Maybe he disliked birds? She couldn’t imagine any other reason. Before she could think to ask however, Herbert spoke his question first.

“Where are you from?”

Ryann really hadn’t expected the question, so it took a moment for her half frozen mind to process it correctly. She watched Bizbee scuttle across the man’s shirt collar and chirp lightly from his shoulder before finally pulling her cheek up in a crooked grin.

“I’m from Cass Island.” Ryann chirped proudly, hoping maybe the name would be recognized and it would turn out that she hadn’t been blown that far from home after all. “It’s a part of the Blue Archipelago, nearing the coast of Jericho.” She hurried to clarify, worried that maybe she’d been too vague. Limbo was a pretty large place after all, but nearly everyone knew of at least one of the three major islands. “It’s a nice place. Much warmer than here.” She added with good humor before descending the last of the stairs.

It felt nice to finally escape the cold, and Ryann was pretty sure that if her toes could speak, they’d be screaming thank you to whoever left this room warm and untouched. She waddled in along with everyone else, briefly watching Dimitri and the knight lady settle down in one of the corners of the room, before finding herself a nice spot to sit. She decided to settle beside the supplies, eager to find warmer clothing.

Ryann wasted no time quickly pulling open one of the bags and tearing through its contents. What she found she was very pleased with, and she decided to share her excitement by enthusiastically waving each item she pulled out at Herbert. She stopped after pulling out an unsealed bottle of peach schnapps, giving it a quick inspection before finding it uninteresting, and tossing it beside the bag. Instead, she tossed her attention to the winter clothing. Having claimed this supplies as her, she quickly began carving a hole into the back of her coat with the utility knife so that she could fit her wings comfortably.

“This is really great!” she chirped while happily cutting through thick fabric. At least she knew they wouldn’t die of exposure. She wasn’t sure what a lot of the other supplies was, like the spam or the stove, but she was pretty confident they’d be able to survive easily thanks to this.

"Someone toss me that bottle please!"

Ryann glanced over to Dimitri, who was sprawled out on the ground and then back to the bottle labeled peach schnapps. With a shrug, she picked it up and quickly walked the bottle over to the monk, handing it to him politely before turning to walk back to her pile of supplies.

She stopped short however, after a familiar croak like chirp caught her ears. Ryann stood up straight and listened for it again, patiently. Eventually, from somewhere in the heap of supplies, the chirping erupted again, this time a bit louder.

“Roach!?” Ryann suddenly sputtered and immediately reminded that she hadn’t been traveling alone before waking up here. Was her poor crabby friend hiding somewhere in here then? She couldn’t fathom how he ended up in this room, so far from where she originated, but didn’t waste any time thinking about it before quickly darting back to the supplies.

“Does anyone see a large crab here?” she blurted out in her panic, not bothering to give much more of an explanation while she focused on pulling open each of the bags.

Once inside, Herbert breathed a deep sigh of relief, which developed into a spluttering cough that he covered with both numb hands. It was warm, and he could feel sensation returning to his chillier extremities. He brought his hands up to his eyes and wiggled his fingers. They ached numbly. It would not be long before they burnt, recovering from the cold.

The only place name that Herbert recognised was Jericho. He knew Jericho to be under the rule of Mandatory Palestine. However, he was certain that in was inland, which made her statement about its coast rather confusing. Last Herbert heard, the populace were not winged. This set cogs turning in his head. Jericho was ancient, the disputably the oldest city, from a time of myth. The angels could have easily brought its name from the heavens at its conception. He tried not to think too hard of the implications as his head began to hurt.

“I think anywhere would be warmer than here,” Herbert agreed, shivering at the mere memory of the lurking cold.

Twelve bags, he noted, and a fireplace too, a godsend for sure. The tapestries, whilst ornate, held Herbert’s attention for little more than a moment, as he moved to sit near the hearth of the empty fireplace. He slumped against the wall. The weariness began to set in, and he felt three times his age, aching to his bones and groggy, with eyelids suddenly heavy. He rubbed and hand across his face and shook his head, in an attempt to clear it a little.

He diverted his eyes respectfully from Dzel, who revealed a scandalous amount of skin, but not before he could see the wounds. She was an amalgam of injuries, like an educational diagram, with bruises and cuts of varying severity. They marked her, just as the wings branded Ryann. The serrations on the thigh were brutal, deep and jagged. That Dzel was walking was astounding. Herbert was unsure how much could be done without needle and thread, but left Dmitri to it; there was nothing worse than backseat doctoring. Besides, he was too tired by half.

Instead, he turned his attention to Ryann, who was rather vigorously shaking each item she found whilst rummaging through one of the packs. He smiled at her out of politeness, and gave a half nod, pleased that she was so excited, but envious of her energy.

Despite this, Herbert got up a brought a bag back to where he had been seated, sitting down with it. There was a book that he took out and placed beside him, with the careful reverie that all books deserved. A work of fiction, judging the book by its cover. He pulled out the clothes, which had been folded quite deliberately so they took up as little space as possible. A red and white plastic bottle fell out with them, skittering to a stop against the hearth. Curious, Herbert picked it up. “Extra strength Tylenol” was plastered across the front. From the looks of it, they were paracetamol tablets, but the garish packaging called it acetaminophen; it was from across the pond.

The contents of the packs were exactly what one would need to brave the mountain weather, so there was a slim chance that the owners of the packs were not as lost as the rest of them. A party of at least twelve could be in this very castle then. His mind went to the altar, the charred corpses circling the room, and then he thought no more of it, but felt an echo of the chill.

He stripped off his shoes and socks, both soaked, and rolled up the hem of his trousers. He used the thermals to brush his feet dry and rub some heat into them, slipped into new socks, and then the boots, tying them tightly as they felt a few sizes too large, but at least they covered the skin revealed by the rolled-up hems. He threw the coat on over his wet shirt and fastened it up all the way. The gloves lay across his lap with the scarf and hat. Herbert let out a contented sigh, feeling warmer than he could ever remember. The book went into a coat pocket, and the “Tylenol” into the other, not before he took two tablets dry for his developing headache. It would make sense to offer them to Dzel once she had been seen to. Ryann went about modifying her coat with a knife, which brought a genuine smile to Herbert’s lips, and he closed his eyes and lay back against the wall, enjoying the contentment while he could, disregarding the gnawing hunger and thirst.

A flash of green forced Herbert’s closed lids open. He looked around, a little confused, until he saw the glow coming from Dimitri, or rather, his hands. They were luminous, and blazed a grassy green. Dzel, for her part, didn’t seem as concerned as one would expect, so Herbert made an effort not to cry out in exclamation, making his mouth a thin line. His body went rigid with effort and apprehension. When the stroking hands reach the wound on the thigh, the only wound Herbert could clearly see, Dimitri slowed, and made a semiconscious declaration, to himself more than anyone. And then the wound began to knit together, and Herbert felt sick.

Clearly, he was very far from home, but what he just witnessed was storybook magic, fairy tale wizardry. There was no small part of Herbert that thought this was a very precise, and realistic, lucid dream. The healing made a mockery of science and medicine. Perhaps this was the contemptuous part of his brain jeering him. Perhaps he’d just witnessed a miracle. Perhaps this truly was purgatory, and he was being tested. There were many possibilities, each a little less feasible than the last. He handled the thought-chain, picked it up, and locked behind a door of his mind with the rest of his disbelief, which he would return to later. He had not even considered possibility of this “magic” being used to inflict a wound. It took half the effort to harm than to heal. And so, only slightly catatonic, he sat there, warm, with a lump of icy dread in his chest, looking inwards.

The monk’s demand roused Herbert from his stupor. He looked around the room. Dimitri was on the floor looking exhausted, and Ryann handed him a bottle. From the casual manner with which Ryann conducted herself Herbert assumed this was not as astonishing to her as it was to him. Maybe she had merely missed it, distracted with her coat.

Bizbee grated as it nuzzled itself into a bag. He hadn’t noticed it leave his shoulder.

Herbert stood, rigid, and, mechanically, began to put the wood into the firebox, his eyes far off. When there was enough, he patted his coat absently, already knowing what his hands would tell him. He didn’t have any matches. Sighing, he sat back down again, gathering the hat, scarf and gloves that he had scattered by standing, pointedly staring into his lap. He barely registered Ryann’s bizarre question about a crab, but part of him did, and he frowned, remaining silent.

He spluttered into his closed fist.

I’ll be back soon Liza, he thought, don’t you worry.

Ryann, Dimitri, Herbert, William

Dzel closed her eyes as Dimitri’s wandering hands did their work. Her wounds felt warm, then cool, then… soothed. She leaned against the tapestry and wall behind her, though his hands left her body she could still feel the magic at work within her. Healing and rejuvenating her. It flowed through her like sweet honey… or meade as the monk himself might have preferred.

She could hear Ryann speak of her own home, Dzel recognized none of it, just as she had not recognized anything in Williams story. What strange quest had she embarked upon?

She nearly fell asleep there. She yearned to dream of her own home. Then she heard something in the distance...

Karnage, Jon

Zesiro looked back and forth between the two, the bodies they had tossed aside, and the ‘Dead Xeno’ holding the… phaser.

Zesiro did not recognize any of the names or places that this Johnathan fellow listed off. He said as much: “I don’t know any of those places. Do you have some sort of... I.D.?” the boy felt ridiculous even saying it. Holding a monster and a man at gunpoint, knee deep in snow, on a god forsaken mountain top, and he was asking them for their I.D. like a disco bouncer.

Zesiro took a few steps back toward the charred corpse with the alleged weapon. “We are not just passing through. There was a disturbance in the force.” He glanced at Gemma. “Came to check it out. Found you throwing bodies around like bocce balls.” The longer the conversation stretched out the more annoyed and less frightened the young man seemed. As if, he could not believe he got out of bed for this nonsense today.

He knelt down by the body, the point of his gun wandered away from the pair as he worked the phaser out of the dead hand. Zesiro looked it over, it looked like a weapon but it was not like one he had seen before. “What is this anyway?”

Vata

The man smiled. “Welcome to MOTHER RUSSIA!” he held open his arms wide as if to give a bear hug, then dropped them. “No really though… Don’t know? Don’t remember? Amneeeeesia?” The man stroked his chin and walked closer to the pair. The three men behind him stood where they were, still as scarecrows.

“Not dressed for the weather, huh? You guys look cold… What say you we find some shelter and you can tell me everything that you do remember?”

Everyone

They would all hear it, everyone in and around the old decrepit castle. It began as a low rumble that could be felt reverberating through the earth. Feeling it in their toes they might have mistaken it for a tremor or earthquake. The snow loosened off the higher peaks and the taller towers of the castle. The noise became audible, a creek, a cry, then a roar cut through the sky and over the mountain. Something huge and terrible and angry.

Dzel opened her eyes, the urge to sleep left her.

Twain looked over his shoulder toward the mountain ridges. “Well… That doesn’t sound good.”

Zesiro nearly dropped his gun and Jonathan's. “Son of a---”

Icarus said nothing, and picked up a crab from the snow.

A sense of dread starts to pass over me. If the kid's never heard of either Enki OR Tau Ceti e then, well that's not a good sign. I mean, yeah Enki is basically a backwater, but Tau Ceti e is a tourist hub; it's hard to believe anyone that's not on an Ark world wouldn't have heard of it... which would be a problem, seeing as I'd get in a heap of trouble for messing with an Ark world.

Oh, ah, yeah Ark worlds... see, they're like hidden refuges where pockets of humanity are put in secret, with their civilization artificially put at some arbitrary tech level to start and some made up history- they're a kind of fail safe to keep humanity going in case the Legion ever falls. Knowing where they are can get you in enough trouble, but rumor has it that talking to the locals without clearance carries the death penalty...

Best I can do is hope I'm not on an Ark and keep playing along I guess.

"Yeah, sure I've got I.D. Show you mine if you show me yours." I reach a shivering hand into my breast pocket and retrieve a silver square sized to fit comfortably in the palm of a hand. My frozen fingers slip on the millimeter thick computer, dropping it into the snow. As I hastily kneel down to retrieve it the kid says something about some kind of force. "Never heard of it." I say absently, wiping snow and sand off the fingerprint scanner. I look up sharply at his question, seeing him contemplating my stunner. "Careful with that, kid. If you shoot yourself you'll wake up with a hell of a headache."

"Let's call it a stunner and leave it at that. I..." I'm interrupted by a roar vibrating up through my boots, and my military experience kicks in. Now, contrary to what you might think, there's no official training that tells you what to do when an earthquake happens and you're already out from under anything that might fall on you. There is, however, an unofficial school made up of experience, hearsay, and what old soldiers teach young soldiers, and that school DOES say what you should do in case of an earthquake, or really any situation where something you can't really do anything about is happening, and that is to swear profusely. Having been a soldier who'se picked up odds and ends from more languages than I'd care to name, I can keep up a steady stream of profanity for quite a while, but as the roar dies down so does my voice, turning into a kind of angry mumble before finally petering out.

I shakily raise myself from the defensive crouch I found myself in. "Ok, so what the #$%^ was that?"

Karnage was getting rather annoyed at all this inane questioning. "Who are you, where did you come from, what do you want, blah blah blah..." Tyrael was about to lower his hands when there was a loud roar in the background. "Now that feels familiar." Karnage turned his body towards the direction of the noise. Then Karnage turned back to the humans interrogating him and spoke plainly. "I understand that you do not trust me, and the feeling is mutual. However I am going to guess that regardless of who you are, your job is to find the likes of us, outsiders of your realm, and deal with us as. Perhaps you capture us for the purpose of study, or kill us to protect your world. Whatever you intend to do, we both know that does not sound good. I will be willing to fight alongside you, for the benefit of the both of us." Karnage let out a grin and even offered his hand.

Vata shot a strange look at Twain. Apparently they were in some region called Russia, which sounds nothing like any of the names he's heard for the nations in the North. With each passing moment, his suspicion that they had been transported to some alternate physical plane seemed more and more likely.

Vata shrugged before he answered Twain's questions.
"I have never heard of...Russia, and I have never experienced any bouts of amnesia. I would welcome any offer of shelter, I for one do not wish to be in this wretched place any longer."

A moment after he said that, he heard a low rumble that gradually increased in volume until a deafening roar tore through the air. Vata flinched and started frantically looking around for the source of the noise, before turning back to Twain, quite visibly unnerved.

"Spirits preserve me, what was that? As if the cold was not reason enough to be rid of this place..."

Jon and Karnage

Zesiro frowned deeply. He felt stranded. His companion, the new girl, was keeping quiet beside him. He was supposedly second in command, but, that was bullshit. MERCY should just be re-named the TWAIN-Brigade. Zesiro was at a loss in this situation.

"Whatever." he finally said. "Lets get the hell out of here. You guys go first, head to the ah... Castle... I guess." He looked out into the snow, wondering where the roar had come from. Was it something like thunder, where, if you counted the space between the sound and the light you could tell how far away it was? "Quick."

Vata & Alexavier.

"Soooounds like a plan!" Twain turned toward the castle, pointing to it in the distance. "That looks like our best bet. Lets go!" And he trudged through the snow toward the castle. The three men would follow beghind Alexavier and Vata.

Charles Balderdash

TIGER was a highly specialized team. They all dressed in similar dark gear with many pockets and plenty of extra munitions of all sorts. They trained together closely and were a truly cohesive unit. Much of this was thanks to the grueling expectations of their leader.

Charles was not part of this team. He was simply hitching a ride with them. Charles was newly assigned to MERCY.

They were on their way to the location of MERCY. Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Russia.

From the cockpit, a steady stream of angry Spanish curses emanated. The soldiers shifted like grass in the wind, but, they were accustomed to this type of event from their 'Den Mother'. They knew that they were safe, she reserved her harshest opinions for...

"Dios Mio MERCY!" Rozalind left the cockpit with her fists clenched. She was wearing the unmarked black swat-suit that all the other members of TIGER were wearing, but without her head gear her long red hair tumbled freely around her shoulders. It was like a lions mane, and her black eyes flashed with a predators annoyance. She had skin the color of dusk and freckles across her hawkish nose. Her black eyes landed on Charles.

"Charles." She sat down next to him, crossing her arms and legs. Even in her battle gear she moved with elegance that was usually only observed in ballrooms. "Are you sure you want to join MERCY? You should request a transfer. Idiots. They are not responding to our calls and we can't get a clear fix on their location."

Charles might have heard that Rozalind herself had been a member of MERCY before being assigned to lead TIGER.

“Well” Charles drew out the word whilst he considered Rozalinds question, head turned ever so slightly onto the side. “I wouldn’t say that I was certain about joining MERCY. I mean honestly, going from a purely reconnaissance team to one like MERCY is going to be one heck of a career change but actually I’m looking forward to it.” Charles then momentarily ceased his strange flapping of arms and hand gestured as he nodded before resuming his speech.

“But actually you know what, I was very surprised when I received the letter about the transfer, I mean I know I’m good, but honestly to be considered so good as to join MERCY, I mean honestly I’m still over the moon about it.” At this point Charles grinned almost madly and bobbed a little bit in his seat.

Charles was dressed in a similar fashion as the members of TIGER he was riding with, no doubt once they landed and he was out in the Snow Charles would find the padded uniform to be a god send, but with fewer ammunition packs and pockets to strap them into. Unlike the other on board Charles hadn’t trained to carry his weight in weaponry. Instead he had a hefty armoured case strapped in comfortably underneath his seat the items within Charles mentally recounted over again and again making absolutely certain that everything would be there when he opened it again.

“Do we have any idea of where they’re going and their last known location?” Charles asked. “Might be good to do a quick visual search of the area between the two, or maybe just meet them at the rendezvous point. Maybe it’s the storm that’s causing some interference with the equipment? Although the local weather forecast did say the storm wouldn’t be due for another ten minutes or so” Charles nattered away, more to himself than anyone else.

While the question he asked seemed like the most obvious thing to do Charles himself had lost count of the times a severe problem arose simply because the solution was so obvious that no one ever considered it.

“Where was the rendezvous point again? Actually Rozalind, don’t suppose you have some good Intel about MERCY that I could use do you?” Charles asked in a serious matter with a slightly smaller grin “After all you used to be part of MERCY didn’t you? Or is that just a silly rumour or something?”

Will was taking another look through the bag he’d searched before, quietly watching as the others took their loot and talked. The new group were seemingly as unfamiliar with each other as he and Dzel, furthering driving home the point that the situation was insane. He briefly wondered if he was in shock, after realising he hadn’t really registered that one of them had fucking wings.

He noticed that nobody else seemed to be pulling out guns from their backpacks, rather they had things that his one lacked in addition to a standard set of supplies- he was a bit worried that he’d assumed they were all the same, and chalked it down to being shaken by the situation. Will forgot about that, as he found the strange device that he hadn’t had time to look at before. He glanced around to see the big guy, Dimitri, doing some literal glowing magic, as he fumbled around for the devices on switch.

Muttering under his breath, Will said “Hope you at least are just some weird technology rather than more of that”, as the screen flicked on. He watched curiously as an animation began to play- and the floor beneath him began to shake. The resonating boom roared out, and will froze, the blood draining from his face. His mind went back to being on a ferry from Sakhalin to Sapporo nearing his destination, and seeing the city disappearing a flash of light in the far distance. The mountain shook.

He bolted to his feet, lugging on his bag and spoke “Happening again. Mountain is shaking itself apart, no routes out will be good, all better than staying. Taking tunnels, follow or don’t. If you see a flash of light on the horizon, get behind cover and shield your eyes.” Will headed for the tunnels and got the fuck out of there, almost like someone with PTSD rooted in nuclear warfare who thinks he’s in a nuclear war again. In fact, exactly like that.

He wasn’t acting entirely rationally- there wasn’t much nearby to nuke- but he was at least acting quickly, and doing a good job of running away.

Dimitri had nursed the bottle of peach schnapps down to about half way during the time he was laying there recuperating. The veteran only felt slightly fuzzy from the effects of the fruity alcohol but it would have to do for now.

As he laid there others spoke of their homelands and other bits and pieces but it was all foreign to him. He began to long for his homelands once more. the familiar faces of his companions. The curvy sorceress, that brute of a warrior and even the hunter and his thick exotic accent. He missed being in the heat of battle and the long journeys full of nights so dark, the glow of a fire spread far and wide. But most of all, he missed his flask and his mace. The absence of these items made him feel incomplete and he longed to feel the familiar tug of his soul essence as it resonated from the catalysts. He patted at the flask's usual spot on his waste with a sigh. Even the air on Temperance seemed more refreshing than this frigid wasteland.

As expected, Dzel's head drooped after a few moments but still the woman would not succumb to sleep eve after all her wounds and his healing. The monk admired her even more for the way she handled the side effects of his potent healing.
she would definitely prove useful should they be forced into battle and as a feeling of dread flooded into him he was all the more glad that he had spent the time tending to her.

The moment the ground shook William shot to his feet rambling off a number of comprehensible things and bolted towards some tunnels that Dimitri had only just noticed. But he had been preoccupied since the group had found their way inside so it was perfectly acceptable for him not to be fully aware of his surroundings wasn't it?

A few moments later a blood curdling roar erupted from the sky far above and Dimitri watched as Dzel stirred at the sound of the roar. It was a casual stir, no where near the same reaction that William had just displayed. In fact, if the warrior was at all startled by the sound, she made a good show of not revealing it.

"That can't be a good sign now can it" he spoke ominously as he dragged himself to his feet. It took a few minutes for the monk to get the better of the weariness that was threatening to turn his legs to lead. He had exhausted a massive amount of energy to get Dzel back up to the capacity she would need to be worth a damn in a fight, but the rest was up to her to deal with for now.

He glanced around the room at the others, gauging the integrity of the walls at the same time wondering if they would withstand another tremor such as the one they had just felt.

The monk pointed at Williams's back then continued "Who wants to follow William? and who has another idea?" his eyes rested on Dzel again as he met her eyes. "I'm definitely up for suggestions!"

Ryann was on the edge of pouting after searching several more bags of supplies with little luck on finding Roach. She did find quite the assortment of odd objects that her bag had lacked, like socks or additional food. She found a small set of art supplies, which she silently pulled from the bag for herself—when in a new land, always take what you would use later.

She eventually gave up, making her way back to her own corner of the room with a bit more disappointment on her face. Perhaps she’d simply misheard his chirping? She didn’t want to admit to such a mistake, but seeing as there wasn’t an overgrown crab blended into any of the scenery here, it had to be true. She began to shove her supplies, as well as the sketchbook and pastels, into her bag now. Without the bulk of her coat, which was now wrapped around her torso, the bag was much lighter and much easier to pack. The only thing left beside her at the end was a neat pile of coat stuffing and torn fabric and the knife she’d used to cut the hole. She slid that into her boot for easier access later.

Then the room began to shake, and in the distance, Ryann could hear something roaring. It sounded angry, like some horrible Static, and made her feathers stand on end. So there was a monster dwelling nearby after all. Her heart skipped a beat while it build up speed, and Will’s reaction only added to her anxiousness. Was this place not stable? Were they going to be buried alive if they stayed? And what did he mean by a light on the horizon? Ryann quickly scrambled to her feet, pulling her bag into her chest and looking around at the remaining people in the room.

“I think we should follow him.” Ryann answered Dimitri immediately, the panic in her voice quite evident in its volume. “We should leave right now.” She reaffirmed and glanced back at the tunnel anxiously. She could practically feel her heart pounding in her feet, urging them to move. The tunnel would lead them outside, right? Will wouldn’t run off in a direction that didn’t lead them outside, right? She flapped her wings impatiently, trying to re-flatten her spooked feathers. They refused, but she still tried, hoping it would distract her from her panic.