Location:
Cogfell City
10.000 hours

---

Sirens blared, filling every home, business, and street with its cacophonous blares. This, was not something most people were familiar with, but was something the citizens all had been warned of during the war five years ago. A loud, resolute sound that the city was under attack. Several years ago, though, they had been on the lookout for Kyrsa warships, sailing high above the the city. Now though? No, the enemy was already here.

Demons.

"Damn it!" She hefted her rifle, three quick shots rang out, each expertly finding their mark. She ran, huffing, nearly out of breath as her legs carried her towards the sound of fighting. She had to meet up with the others. It was just their luck the moment they had found the culprits they were looking for, would be right when they had finished their little ritual! If that wasn't all, it was much, much worse then what they had been told.

Thankfully the local police had been informed of their operation, and had already been given evac orders and to help evacuate the citizenry.

She briefly glanced at the corpse of a kid, no older than fifteen.

"A-ah field captain!" She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the familiar uniform of violet garden. "Oh goody, am I ever glad to see you, eheh! Jeez, you'd never believe how hard it was to find you after we all got scattered!"

"Where are the others?" She asked the girl in front of her.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about them. We managed to regroup not far from here. I was asked to bring you back."

She blinked. Relief turned to tension again. Grip tightened on her gun.

"...I'm sorry, but I don't quite think I remember your name."

Location:
The Clematis
12.000 hours
@Sniblet@Waylon@Pyromania99@VitaVitaAR@Click This@AzureKnight

---

The dull hum of an engine in the background. Laughter as the residents in the ship enjoyed some leisurely time before they arrived at their destination. It was the sort of leisure someone on a ship, marching into a warzone, would be enjoying. Despite the joviality, tension and anticipation was palpable. Some of the maids contented themselves with training, keeping their minds sharp on the top decks training area. Some were cleaning, cooking, or otherwise just relaxing as the ship flew to its destination while the ships usual crew kept the ship on course.

It was late morning now, almost the middle of the day. They had been alerted to an incident involving a large scale demon summoning in a small city only a few hours ago. It was impressive they were able to scramble everyone together so fast. Heh, still could use some improvement, though.

“Smell that, Bernadette?”

“...drinking on the job is frowned upon.”

“Ahahaha! No, not that little tinker!” The Krysa laughed jovially. “The smell of it! The ash, the smoke…ah, I can smell it from here. That town’s been turned into a warzone.”

“...you can smell that from here?”

“You been in the frontlines long enough you get a nose for this thing.” Leoniya replied with a chuckle. She’d fold her arms across her chest, gazing at the ground far below them. She could already see it in the distance. Pillars of smoke, rising from the ground. Buildings, fractured and destroyed from here. One could hear the gunshots already, too, if they listened.

“Sounds like someone’s eager to wet their blade.” Behind the two, a rather imposing woman approached, grabbing the Krysa by the shoulder and placing a hand on Bernadette’s hand. “Or blowing them to smithereens in your case.” She’d release them and walk over to the ships railing. “She’s right though, brat. Whatever’s going on down there its…heh, particularly vicious.”

“Are we starting?” Bernadette frowned.

“That we are! Leoniya, be a dear and go tell everyone to gather. Bernie, you go and…do whatever it is you do.”

Seconds later, the Krysa’s voice would blare over the ships intercom, her thick accent easily catching everyones attention.

“Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!”

Eleanor sighed deeply as she regarded her reflection yet again. Thankfully the berthing which she and the other girls shared had a few full-length mirrors instead of just one, for she painfully took her time to make sure not a single part of her uniform was out of place. This was to be her first day on the job – actually, the second first day on the job in her life so far as a freshly-minted burgher.

Of all the getups Eleanor vividly envisioned herself wearing ever since she developed a sense of fashion, a maid outfit was not one of them. She wasn't one of those maid café waitresses, nor did she want to be one even though they looked quite pretty and elegant as they went about their business in the themed establishments that peppered their dining and entertainment district. She was a line cook, an aspiring chef even, and thus she was of the conviction that she excelled in the kitchen preparing plats du jour and all manner of confections no matter how complicated or exotic – yes, even her dreaded namesake the cookie, if she absolutely had to – and not in the dining hall serving said dishes and confections with the cutesy flourishes that commanded hefty tips and continued patronage. And if not the iconic white double-breasted jacket of a chef, she would rather look smart and respectable in a dress uniform like the kind she saw on officers who dined in her tavern back in the country as well as some of the Chez Bois-Joli regulars garrisoned in the city.

And now here she was, about to do some actual soldiering. Dressed like the help of some upper-crust manor, no less. What would Grandma say?

What her dear grandmother might comment on her sartorial, not to mention occupational, predicament was neither here nor there. Rather, the more pressing concern was whether she looked impeccable enough to pass the inevitable inspection that was to come in a few moments' time. Shortly after her acceptance as a Violet Garden recruit, Eleanor was led to a massive closet decked with a diversity of styles and colors, from the frumpily traditional to the titillatingly risqué. The one thing they all had in common was that an attractive young woman dressed in any combination of those articles of clothing (it goes without saying that they have to go well with one another) can be said to at least look like a genuine maid, if she wasn't actually working as one herself.

One piece of fashion advice that stayed with Eleanor even though she couldn't for the life of her remember where she read it was to “start with the shoes and work your way up.” And so she did, starting with a sturdy pair of black Mary Jane flats – to her the closest thing to the boyish but comfy and practical derbies that she wore as a cook – which she later polished to a mirror shine, and in lieu of socks and trousers were black nylon leggings that fit snugly around her feet and legs. She then picked out a simple black dress with a rounded flat collar, short, slightly puffy sleeves, and a skirt ending just above her knees. Instead of the aprons that she was used to, she decided that for a change she would wear a crisp white pinafore that had very short frills for sleeves and at the sides had pockets and two strips of cloth that she would tie into a bow at her back.

Shoes and clothes weren't the only things in the closet, however. On the far end was a rack that carried an assortment of ebony-handled feather dusters, as well as a practice dummy. An arrangement she felt to be strange at first, until she picked up a duster and found that the handle was made of hardwood. Out of curiosity, Eleanor gave the dummy a couple of resounding whacks.

The dusters double as batons!

Not that she knew how to use such a weapon, perhaps the simplest she and the others were expected to wield, but she surmised that they were to have them on their persons at all times as a sidearm of sorts.

That same feather duster now rested nearby on her bed in the berthing as she studied her reflection one last time to adjust the frilly white headdress on her bunned hair and then her white cook's neckerchief, which she wore in place of a tie and onto which she fastened a brooch bearing the Violet Garden crest.

“Time to get to work,” Eleanor said silently as she clasped the duster to her waist and joined the others making their way to the deck.

Astreya has been in the engine room. Mainly because it was hard to keep her out - she really wasn't allowed in here. She's been spending her time crouched over for a close hands-off inspection of the machinery, interrupted by occasional barks from the ship staff whenever they suspect she's acting too "Krysa-y." Really, one of the staff came over and told her off for acting too Krysa-y. She must've got embarrassed about that term, because she only used it once, and just called Astreya's curiosity about the engine suspicious from then on.

Her ears perk up at the sound of her own language from the intercom. She'd kind of been expecting to be alone here.
"Great," says miss Krysa-y. "Rat! You've gotta go!"
"Yeah, I know," says Astreya. "One more minute."
The staff exchange looks. Better not warn her about being late. Best-case, maybe she gets thrown overboard and they never have to deal with her again.

Well, this is the story she'll tell if asked. Really the staff were quite nice, but that's boring.

Astreya spends a little bit longer bent at the knees and staring silently at a compressor, cupping her chin between her fingers. She's pretty sure she recognizes this design, and it's a design that sucks. Is this an oversight? A cost-saving measure? Do humans really not have anything better? She wishes she could peel this open and be sure that it's as bad as it looks, but she can hardly do that while it's running. From an outside perspective, to those not engaged in her technical review of the airship, the sight of this giant ratwoman in a fluffy maid dress staring at their engine like a crossword puzzle might be comical.

It's less comical when she rises and straightens to her full height again. Depending on the viewer's recent experiences, it might be genuinely frightening, despite the dress, to meet a (mostly) fully-grown Krysa female's eyes from on high. She doesn't mean for it to be.
"All right," she says. "What was it - top deck?"
She is shown the door. It shouldn't take long to find her way.

Farisian Maid

---

Polina regarded the tray of macarons with a critical eye. Bringing the confections to level with her face, she frowned as she found the desserts lacking, the sheen of its coat a notch or two duller than what passed as acceptable to her standards. The galley of the airship, while well-appointed by the standards of what could expect for a craft of its size, could only be so well equipped, especially for a trip on such short notice and she recognized that fact, however much it galled her.

Taking sets of preprepared silken pouches, she emptied the tray of colorful confections into the containers before tying their drawstrings together and carefully placing them into a woven handbasket to later distribute.

For Polina, this was not the first time she would be going into battle. This was something that she always found profoundly ironic, considering her entire raison d’etre for being a maid had been fleeing conflict. It had been almost ten years since that fateful day, though, and she had found her purpose since. She could count herself as a veteran maid, but as a battlemaid, she still had things to learn despite her splendid education. When you lived in a state that didn’t see an inkling of conflict during your entire span of service there, there was only so much experience you could gain outside of special assignments given by your mistress. Fending off suitors and crazies didn’t much count, though she considered it a personal failing that she hadn’t been able to prevent the assassination of the Grand Prince.

She was still apprehensive about her tour of duty with the Violet Garden. It would do her well in treading new ground, and she was ostensibly among friends to learn and rely on. Yet the mutual pact of trust was not yet there, and likely would not ever be there unless circumstances changed. It was a far cry from her experience at home, but that too was why she was here. Depending on what she learned, the two mistresses she now served would either forge a new friendship that was more than just the simple platitudes it was now, or the relationship would be forever lost with a wall firmly in place between mutual reconciliation.

She was a well-rounded maid with a very good set of skills that just wanted to meet new people, but she hated playing the spy. Yet from what her mistress had told her, what was going on in the Maison d’Violette could have wider implications.

Such was the cost of living in interesting times.

In the meantime, though, she would feed her new maidenly comrades sweets and prepare for battle. As the voice of the Kyrsan veteran barked over the intercom, she slung her rifle over her shoulder after taking it up from its place against the wall. Even with a basket of macarons in her hand, she was combat-ready— she always kept her sword openly at her side, as were her more concealed weapons closer to her body.
With a spring in her step, she stepped out onto the deck to hand out her confections—even if she didn’t fully trust everybody yet, she would still feed them sweets and be fed the same in return, ‘accidents’ be damned.

Katherine had been sitting in one of the rooms, carefully looking over all of the dolls that she had brought with her. "One through 4 check. Five through seven in good shape. Number eight... How did you stain your apron like that?" The Firbolg woman clicked her tongue, slightly irritated. "I swear, the next time show me before we get on the ship to come out gods know where. Welp, no harm to it. Hard to even see." The woman patted at the doll's apron to see if it was something that'd just come off but to no avail. "Hmm. Well, we're looking fine now. Now, go lets go ahead and get you all your weapons. We need to be ready for the battle ahead."

Katherine stood and clapped her hands, and the dolls marched to the back of the room grabbing their weapons. Four of them grabbed some nicely crafted halberds, just about the right size for the three foot tall dolls. The other four grabbed four rifles and beltpouches to facilitate using rifles. "Hmm, hmm. Looking in good shape except a stained apron." And it was, perhaps by fortune, just then that a certain heavily accented Krysa came over the intercom.

“Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!”

"Hmmm, hmm. Yes, yes. I figured it was about time, didn't I?" Katherine pondered as she gave a sigh. "Two Halberdiers in front, Rifledolls in the middle and 2 Halberdiers as rear guard." And with that, Katherine lead the small troop. It didn't take too long before the sounds of small, in-step marching dolls making their way to the top of the deck. As Katherine reached the deck, the dolls assumed a single file line and set themselves to the side of the airship deck. "Greetings, one and all. Apologies if I've not shown my face topside much, I wanted to make sure my team was in top shape." The Firbolg said as her tail swished back and forth a bit, obviously a small bit excited to get to fight. She waved at her dolls as thin magical looking threads of magic lightly flashed. "They are, of course. And I'll have them patrol around a small bit."

With that, the dolls broke formation and started to patrol the deck, looking over the side and making sure nothing was sneaking up on then.

"After all, it shall not be long 'til we start our own end of fighting." The Puppeteer Maid checked her own personal weaponry. While her rapier itself wasn't good at fighting bigger monster, she should be fine on that end with the dolls she had backing her up. Her rapier was at it's position on the left side and her pistol on her right. "So, how is our exquisite combat instructor? Doing well, I assume?" The cat smugly smiled at the woman. "As well to you, Bernadetta? And, ummm, Leoniya?" The woman asked. As she introduced herself, one of the dolls patrolling behind the combat instructor gave a soft slap to the butt. The cat had a death wish.

It was an opportunity.

They always said no. They never let her.

Even Big Sister said no.

Sure, that one time, that guy had to be hospitalized. Sure, that other time, that lady spent the rest of the day crying and asking why the gods allowed something like this to happen.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't get it right this time.

And even if she didn't...

Well, sometimes it was funny to watch people react to her cooking. When they didn't cry or get sick, the shock and desperate questions about what they just tasted were hilarious.

But that was beside the point.

Senya was sure, this time, she'd make something everyone would love. As long as she had free, unrestricted access to the kitchen. One of the other maids, a human, had been making something that smelled delicious in there. So she had to time it right. She had to make sure she got a moment to slip in after everyone was done.

Then she could work her magic.

Then she'd make something unlike anything anyone on the ship had ever experienced.

At least, that would be one way to describe it, for good or ill(most likely ill).

Lingering near the entrance to the kitchen, Senya idly swept with her broom back and forth. She'd just watch and wait for the human maid to leave, until she had her moment.

The tiny dark elf was watching the kitchen intensely, idly shuffling back and forth in the hall and sweeping up random spots that looked like she could plausibly claim they needed cleaning, when she suddenly heard a familiar voice on the intercom.

“Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!”

"..."

Her plans, in that instant, were dashed.

On the other hand...

---

It was not much later when Senya appeared on the deck. She had traded her broom for an entirely different piece of equipment, currently concealed in a leather case that much resembled a piece of luggage, held in both of her small hands as she walked across the deck to join the others.

"Here."

It was all the expressionless dark elf said as she came to a halt.

Did she really mean to do that though?

Eleanor caught herself as she was about to comment on the cheeky gesture made by Katherine's doll and decided instead to contemplate the midday sky through the airship's windows. Finding oneself about to be deployed on such short notice without any basic training whatsoever was already plenty of trouble as it is, and Eleanor feared they were all going to get it now - not just the Firbolg. If there's anything the erstwhile line cook knew from experience, it's that speaking out of turn in times like these would only make things much worse.

Aboard the Clematis

---

"Santo Cielo!"

Lucrecia was scrambling to ensure she had everything in order for the coming mission. She nearly threw a profanity filled fit when she thought the local delivery service wouldn’t have her new blades here on time. She was able to help out Mariarca with some last minute paperwork before they had to head out; she wanted to help out her fellow new recruit in the kitchen, what was her name, Polina? Ultimately, she felt that it would be a better use of her time to prep for battle. While Lucrecia was certainly no stranger to combat, she must admit this would be the first time fighting demons. One could even say she was nervous; since they were supernatural entities she at first wasn’t sure if her armaments would be sufficient. According to the combat instructor, though, she said she managed just fine so long as she didn’t ‘fuck it up’. Just to be on the safe side she had Bernadetta look over her weapons and make some adjustments where necessary.

Still, she can’t let the butterflies in her stomach get the better of her, this was her chance to finally shine. After that excretable baron slandered her name, she thought that her career was over. Fear of going hungry on the street, taking on odd jobs just to make ends meet, it all seemed like a far off dream now.

“Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!”

She recognized that thick, unpleasant accent anywhere. No more time for treading through old memories, duty calls!

Taking note that the chambers on her machete handles were fully loaded, she crossed the blades together a bit, making a satisfying clanking sound until she sheathed them. She lifted her skirt to confirm she had a decent stock of ammunition and knives strapped to her thighs. Molto bene! Confident she was fully prepared for today’s tasks, she promptly made her way down to the deck to meet with her veterans and fellow recruits.

– –

Arriving for the mission briefing, she was met by Polina who was handing out some freshly made macarons to all present. How sweet, pun intended. At first she wasn’t sure about eating pastries before a dangerous mission, but since every mission could be one’s last she decided to take up her offer. She also felt that it’d be rude to deny someone’s cooking, especially when they went through so much trouble to make it.

"Grazie, Polina. It smells delicious." She said with a warm smile. She then turned to everyone else on the deck.

"Buongiorno a tutti. Recruit Lucrecia Cruz, present and accounted for." She said as she made an elegant curtsy; the tone of her greeting was both professional and polite.

Her poise was broken somewhat after one of Katherine’s dolls slapped the vet’s backside firmly. She blinked twice and looked at Kath with a ‘what the hell face’. She felt one of their members would bite the dust before the mission even started. She chose to say nothing, thinking it may just make things worse…

Silently meeting Lucrecia's gaze, Eleanor gave her a knowing nod. By the looks of it, the maid seemed quite accustomed to doing the bidding of overbearing, often unreasonable, authority figures and therefore understood that the only way forward was to keep a stiff upper lip and just take it during certain moments. By the looks of it, this was going to be one such moment.

Eleanor remained apprehensive, but at least she no longer felt completely alone.

@AzureKnight

Location:
The Clematis
12.000 hours
@Waylon@AzureKnight@VitaVitaAR@Pyromania99@Click This@Sniblet

---

As the announcement blared, the sounds of boots hitting the floor echoed through the ship. The maids aboard immediately stopped any task they were doing, no matter how involved as they’d march quickly, single file in the ships hallways up from the lower decks, until their boots fell upon the open air of the top deck. Some shot Katherine some rather annoyed glances as her and her dolls took up quite a bit of room in the narrow hallways, but ultimately they’d simply decide to find another path or follow quietly behind as she’d meander to the deck herself. Polina would find others eagerly accepting the Macarons, some quickly wolfing them down while others stashed them in their various dress pockets for later.

Astreya would in fact, find most of the engineers likely not minding too much as long as she didn’t break anything. Bernadette, after all, was the one who modified the engine it and she learned under the best Krysan scholars in the region if one believed her. She had the credentials to back it up. It was in fact, bernadette herself that would take issue with the rat tinkering with her work, but she wasn’t here to do that.

The fresh, cool air of the skies would greet each of the maids as they’d find themselves on deck, greeted with the sight of the tall, pink haired woman that served as their rather demonic combat training commander, silhouetted by the sun as she’d gaze out over the fields below them. In the distance, the maids could see smoke billowing from the ground.

A sword, ornate and colored similarly to her own dress hung from her side. A black blade with a red edge, and a pistol with black and gold ornamentation from the holster on her side.

“Privet, morning!” Leoniya greeted the junior maids in her usual jovial attitude while Bernadette simply yawned at Kats introduction, mumbling out a halfhearted morning before shuffling off to check on things in the ship. “Line up, vnimaniye! Not a single recruit out of line! And keep those dolls in line too recruit-” She was cut off by the sight of one of Katherine’s dolls, waltzing up behind Myrilla and smacking her right on the butt. Leoniya seemed to stifle a laugh, glancing to the side. Myrilla, initially didn’t seem to react, only the sound of her heels clacking against the floor as she turned to face the gathered recruits.

Leoniya did not comment as she’d salute, handing Myrilla a paper that was quickly balled up into trash, shoved into her uniform pockets, and ignored.

“Good, everyone is here.” The woman in question turned, narrowing her gaze at the gathered maids. “Welcome to Cogfell. A lovely little backwater city, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Total population about…hmm, several thousand or so? I don’t care.” The instructor pulled her pipe out of her coat, a lighter in the other as she’d proceed to walk down the line of assembled maids, of which, just so happened to start with Eleanor.

“At roughly zero eighthundred hours this morning, a strike team of six maids had been sent to raid what was believed to be a small group of scholars harboring demonic secrets and trying to bring things from Naraheim here.” She’d inhale on the pipe, standing right in front of Elanor as she’d breathe out the thick, acrid smoke into the girls face with a scowl. “As you can see, they failed harder than you did to get properly uniformed.”

Myrillas hand reached out, adjusting some of the aspiring chefs' dress in a mildly rough manner, not bothering to mention what was out of place if anything even was - but this was Myrilla. She wasn’t known for being reasonable, or friendly. She’d soon move on, taking another long drag on the pipe as she’d walk down the line, passing Astreya with a hostile glare, followed shortly by Senya who’d receive not even an acknowledgement as Myrilla would stand in front of Polina.

“We don’t know what went wrong, but we had been coordinating with the local police. They sent us a panic alarm around zero eight thirty five. Forty minutes after the raid began they already started evac protocols and started quarantining the town. As you can tell from the fact the zone is now a smoldering crater, we can safely say the six operatives failed at their job. It should, have been easy.” Myrilla took one of the Macarons Polina had prepared, whether the maid had any objections at all the instructor didn’t listen or try and stop as she’d bite into the treat, immediately make a disgusted face, drop the confection onto the deck and resume her walk down the line, crushing it under her heel. “Easy to make as a good Macaron, which one of you can’t even do it seems.” Myrilla walked past Lucrecia, more smoke from the pipe briefly clouding the air as the instructor would now, find herself standing in front of Katherine and her dolls.

“Our job is simple. Go in, kill the demons, look for those failures and drag them back if they’re still alive, or bury them if they’re mercifully dead. Any questions?” That as a distinct lack of any solid information on Myrilla's part, as she stood in front of Kat, seemingly waiting for her to say something. Likely intentional to see if the maids wanted to make their job easier or harder by asking anything that might be relevant, or if they just wanted to get straight to it. It was likely as routine a job as any.

Go in, kill demons, look for the missing operatives, and figure out what exactly was going on and how such a simple seeming task went to literal hell so quickly.

Astreya has been paying... maybe less attention than would be wise in her position. She's already seen what the deck looks like, but she's also already seen what Myrilla looks like, and assessed her at a glance as "some kind of authority person," so her behavior now is explainable and thus not interesting. She's been more focused on her peers. Though even that needs a qualifier - she's trying to "focus" on all of them at once.

Blue-haired cat, looks to be enjoying herself already. Oh-
Dark-haired girl (blue or black?) giving the cat a weird look, she was speaking foreign earlier too. Ah-
White-haired young lady with a plate of... those are called macarons, right? Uh-
Uh, an elf. Interesting. Anyway-
What a bright shade of pink!

Astreya is something of a sight with her attention darting around like this, her tail swinging left and right in an overstimulated wag. She barely catches the passing glare from Myrilla. She answers it with a grin, entirely out of the loop on why she might deserve that kind of venom.
"We don't know what went wrong-"
Oh, something went wrong? Anyway, that's got to be a dark elf, right?...

"-dead. Any questions?"
A few seconds pass without Myrilla saying anything. Astreya blinks, lets her attention shift to where it was supposed to be a minute ago. Well, she's never had a good enough reason not to ask a question when invited.
"Who's dead?" she asks.

Farisian Maid

---

Once on deck, Polina began to hand out her little ration packets, ahead of the arrival of the officers. This she carried out mostly silently, almost as if she were handing out actual field rations. Depending on how things turned later on, they might actually act as emergency field rations for some. Regardless, it gave her a good excuse to look nearly each maid and fellow ‘recruit’ in the eye and get their measure.

It seemed, at the very least, her cohort was a very eclectic bunch. One, clearly, was a simple chef pressganged for something far over her head; another, a rare dark-elf, and one that seemed to genocide the culinary arts at that; lastly, there was also a cat with a small marching army of dolls. There were a few more that stood out too, though it became very clear that the Firbolg had some sort of the death wish by the way she controlled her dolls.

Not that it was a criticism in any way. It was amusing if anything, and Myrilla was the sort of toxic authority figure that commanded more ridicule than respect. That, like many other things, was an opinion that she would keep to herself. Polina did however, decide to go out of her way to stoop down and present the cheeky doll with its own bag of confections, still maintaining her characteristically serious face as she did so.

She’d finished handing out most of the sweets when she got into line with most of the other recruits. It was a bit of a jarring change, transferring from a position of relative authority to a junior role once more, but for a temporary assignment, it was not so bad for the sake of the mission and for the pursuit of more experience. From the position of a somewhat older, more experience maid –even if she was in her early twenties, she been a maid for almost a decade now—the mind games that Myrilla played were obvious and far more tolerable knowing what was up.

So when the taskmistress of a maid disparaged her cooking and ground her pastry into the wooden decking of the airship, she offered her a raised eyebrow. Polina knew her cooking was good. Especially her baking skills. It was Myrilla’s own loss if she tossed out her own macarons.

She did, however, use some slight-of-hand to slip the woman a new bag of macarons into one of her dress pockets as she turned away to dress down another hapless maid down the line, which in this case, seemed to be Kat. Well, that would be interesting.

"No questions, ma'am! Thank you, ma'am!" Eleanor replied, relieved. So relieved that she realized only shortly after the fact that her words came out sounding more enthusiastic than she meant them to be, a little too obsequious even. Never mind. She was only grateful that Katherine's transgression didn't get them all screamed at, or worse.

Eleanor accepted Polina's packet with a soft "thanks" and quickly slipped the treats into her pinafore. Foremost on her mind was finding better weapons to arm herself with than just her feather duster; sampling the macarons will have to wait.

Aboard the Clematis

---

Surprised that Kat hadn't been thrown out of the airlock or filled full of lead, Lucrecia pondered for a moment at the information there were given. Or rather, she wondered why it was all so vague, couldn't even be bothered to call this a briefing.

"Ah. Un momento, Signora. I'd personally like to know a bit more about the situation. Do we know anything about the enemy? How many there are, what works best againast these ones, can we still expect aid from the local Polizia? I think that's at least worth considering."

The freelancer was a stickler for the finer details and always made sure to be well prepared for everything and anything. Of course, it's not as if she couldn't improvise. She just didn't feel it was ideal, more often than not.

"Considering our compatriots likely have been met with an unfortunate fate, perhaps a little preparedness would benefit our fight against these spiritos malignos

Katherine's doll that Polina handily handed a pouch of fresh baked goods gratefully accepted the gift and returned a salute towards the woman. Katherine herself seemed quite intent with not stepping down as the harsh drill instructor of a maid stood and stared her down, obviously in part to the earlier slight. "Now, now, Miss Chef. It's never good to leave without asking questions of your superiors. You can't be the only one constantly on your toes after all." The doll commanding maid held her right hand on her hip whilst her left hung at her side whilst still staring back into Myrilla's eyes. "And Miss... Lu? Lulu? Yes, Lulu. I agree with your spirit in the line of questioning, but I think it's safe to hazard a guess at what our opposition is. Blood demons, the only creatures in the family uncouth enough to destroy so much."

The Doll-Maker smirked a small bit. "But yes, you are right on those other questions Lulu, though I would add one of my own. Where were our coworkers last located? Or where they were suppose to be. I feel right as rain going to find them but I rather have a location to look out for as we volley fire down the streets." Katherine then put her hands down to her sides, but slightly away with her digits outstretched as to show off the eight magical catalysts that bejeweled each finger but her thumbs. An eerie light began to glow from the ring as the glow traveled from her rings to each of the dolls through the magic thread that connected them. The dolls then seemed to poof into nothing as the glow returned to the rings. "After those are answered, I don't think I have many questions."

Location:
The Clematis
12.000 hours
@Pyromania99@AzureKnight@Waylon@Click This@Sniblet@VitaVitaAR

---

“You, unless you pay more attention, little rat.” Myrilla scoffed towards Astreya’s question, not even bothering to glance in her direction as she’d instead take a long inhalation on her pipe, regarding Katherine with a scowl.

“The cat’s probably correct.” Myrilla responded to Lucrecia, a thick waft of smoke meeking Katherine’s face as she exhaled. The woman stuck her still burning pipe in her headdress as she’d slowly walk around the line of maids. “Scale demons usually would hardly care to destroy. Eye demons are far too slothful. A tear demon would only do so if it caused whoever they’re haunting distress. Tongue demons corruption would be far more ethereal in nature…which leaves our likely culprit as Blood Demons.” As the instructor moved down the line from behind, she’d stop momentarily behind Senya, adjusting her headdress slightly and tightening the uniform just a bit.

“As you should have learned, Blood demons are particularly violent and vicious. A slave to their fell emotions and impulses. They lust for carnage, obscenity and all the vile pleasures a human would reject.” Myrilla continued moving down the line once more as she spoke, the sound of her heels on the deck the only sound aside from the dull hum of the engines. “Their magics are the same, and they are tied to Tear demons for raw physical strength. You get into a fight of raw strength with one above Greater Beast, you’re gonna end up worse than dead. They don’t care for decency or human morals.” Kathereine would feel Myrilla’s hands on her waist as she’d stop behind them.

“Ah, and one more thing. The local police have quarantined the town and have made it very clear - no one in or out the usual routes for fear of a demon in disguise slipping through.” Katherine would find herself being lifted, off the ground and hoisted up in a princess carry in Myrilla’s arms. “So you will be air dropping on sight. Like so-”

Myrilla spun on her heels, doing two full rotations with Katherine in her arms, before quite literally tossing the maid right over the railing, sending her sailing to the ground below.

“Ser'yezno!? She has no parachute!” Leoniya ran over to the railing.

“I hear cats land on their feet.” Myrilla shrugged, nonchalantly. “Consider this a lesson in both teamwork, recruits, and not to smack a married womans ass or she might toss you overboard.” Leoniya worked quickly, gathering parachutes and a pack of supplies for the recruits. Ammo, a copy of the usual ‘Maids Guide to Demon Hunting’ for reference, a MAT-4 pistol, flares, and a spare uniform.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Myrilla pulled the pipe from her headband. “...my daughter was part of that group of six. I expect word of how she is soon as you find her. Now get going! Don’t sit there and gawk at my ass like that one or you all better grow wings!” That was odd. You should all knew she was married from how she would gush about her husband when drunk, but she had never mentioned a kid before.

Well, regardless, it was show time it seemed like. The maids had been given their instruction, and that seemed all the information Myrilla was likely willing to divulge. Perhaps she didn’t know much more herself, but there was certainly a lot of unknowns left in there.

Whenever the maids collected themselves, they’d find themselves jumping overboard, parachute secured tightly along with supplies as they’d get their first glimpse of what remained of Cogsfell below…

Location:
Cogsfell
12.000 hours

---

Myrilla hadn’t been wrong.

The north section of the town looked exactly as described. A smoldering, blasted crater littered with buildings that were still actively burning as thick smoke billowed up from it. Many buildings looked like they had gotten blasted by an explosion. Along the ground fissures and volcanic fire erupted from below, a clear sign of a portal to the first circle fo Naraheim likely having been opened here. The police seemed to have formed a defensive line around its perimeter as best they could, using the untouched southern section of the city as a safehaven and refuge.

They could hear an occasional scream, too. Not to mention a number of demons running around as they got closer to the ground. Nothing too concerning from the looks of things. Some low level Demon beasts and Greater Beasts, thankfully no high demons from the looks of things, but who knew what would be found once they hit the ground?

Soon enough, unless one would have somehow gotten wildly off course, the maids would find themselves all touching down near and around what was once a fountain in what was some sort of square. It was now split in half, a deep fissure having opened beneath the ground. Ruined and burning buildings surrounded them in most directions. To the north they could hear the occasional sound of gunfire, and a bit to the east they could hear what could only be described as indescribable demonic roaring. The smell of sulfur, fire, and thick smoke permeated the air.

Myrilla didn’t give them any direction, only intending to find out what happened. Well, they were here now…time to figure out what happened.

Senya quietly glanced back over her shoulder when her uniform was tightened, her headband adjusted slightly. She didn't utter a single word, simply holding her case in both hands as she expressionlessly glanced back at the strict drill sergeant. She didn't have much to say, but she thought she'd put her headband on straight... had she not?

She listened quietly to the summary of the expected threats. She'd kill them. She'd kill all the demons. That was that, really. She'd shoot them and they'd blow up. She'd cut them up and they'd bleed. None of them were that one, so there was no need to do anything else.

When Katherine was shoved out, there were two immediate thoughts in the tiny dark elf's mind.

One being that she would most assuredly be fine, so there was no reason to be worried.

The other was that it was hilarious.

Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Heh."

Her amusement at the other maid's terrifying predicament, however, was swiftly cut short when Myrilia announced that her daughter was among the maids that had been deployed.

When she heard that, the smile swiftly faded from Senya's lips, and the small maid merely gave a firm nod and waited to be equipped with the parachute. If that was the case, then she'd made sure to bring her back. And kill every single demon in her way, too.

Wordlessly, expression still neutral, she stepped to the edge.

And then into the air.

---

One wind-whipped parachuting trip later, and Senya had landed in the designated square, near the fountain that had marked their landing site. It took some time for her to disentangle herself from the parachute, briefly appearing like some sort of comical sheet-covered phantom as she floundered with it until she freed herself, removing the straps entirely and briefly checking to make sure she still had her pack.

Cogsfell was in flames... smoke and destruction were everywhere. And she could hear all sorts of terrible noises, too.

It brought forth unpleasant memories, though the sensation didn't show on the small girl's face.

Instead, she quietly opened her case.

From it emerged an artifice of steel and steam, a smooth, gleaming shape that ended in multiple barrels. From beneath it, a long, sharp, swordlike blade extended, turning once and snapping into place beneath each of the barrels.

Senya adjusted her grip on the weapon slightly. It was almost comical, the sight of the handheld gatling gun being held by such a small girl. It was even bigger then she was.

"... I'm ready to kill."

@Rune_Alchemist

Seemingly unhurried but without hesitation, Astreya skips over to the railing to peer over while Myrilla is still talking. They’re allowed to murder here? Or is that just a command privilege?
Whatever becomes of the Kat, she’s still watching over the railing when Leoniya has to tap her for attention to hand off the supplies. Ammo, in Astreya’s case, is a belt of 12-gauge shells. Not a bandolier, a belt, in the sense of something belt-fed. She grins as she takes it.
“I’m gonna make a biiig mess,” she whispers, in Krysa.

After a short diversion to actually get her gun - she hadn’t really thought it was droptime when she was called up - Astreya runs up to the deck again and leaps overboard without pause, something very large and tubey and brassy cradled in her arms. Pulling her cord without dropping the thing is a bit of a messy affair, but those quick panicky moments of turning a corner and almost bumping into death aren’t out of place for her brand.

Astreya lands lightly, and settles heavily. She looks around, the grin still on her face - indeed, healthier than before - and something questionable in her eyes as she goes about slotting belt into feed by muscle memory. Her ears lightly swivel to track the various catastrophic noises abound.
“North to be too late to save people, east to meet a problem…”
Her attention lingering to the east, she hefts the weapon. It clinks and hisses, pressure shifting in unseen chambers as the first round is pulled into firing position. In her application, Astreya used the word “shotgun,” but apart from the ammunition it’s really a tough thing to stick that word to - asymmetrical and apparently so far from ergonomic one must think the designer was avoiding it, with all visible signs pointing to it using a bizarre and surely unnecessary synthesis - or at least amalgamation - of steam and gunpowder propulsion together. Supposing this doesn’t just explode on firing, one must dread to imagine the kick…

Astreya’s shoulders are shaking, not with strain from the weight, but with laughter. She is imagining the kick.

Katherine was fairly smug about her situation until Myrilla put a hand on her waist... and then both. "Hey... You're being awfully forward now aren't..." Then she was picked up. "W-wha..." The spun twice and liberally tossed over board after being insulted by being called a cat yet again. Anyone that rushed to the side to watch Katherine potentially fall to her doom would hear one last bit of her words as she fell. "I'm not a damn cat you bi--" But she fell too far to hear to make out the last word.

The cat plummeted with her back to the ground for some seconds as she thought about the situation. "She didn't have to get so upset at that. She could have at least gave me a parachute. I'm an important enough maid not to immediately dispose of after all." With a small sigh, the Firbolg spun around so she was free falling towards the ground looking at it. "Well, I was told I should prepare for anything if I'm leaving home like this. Guess the old Hag was right."

After a bit of free falling, she used magic to control the winds around her causing an updraft on herself, slowly increasing it's strength so she wouldn't just squash herself like a pancake. Slowly, her descending speed was lessened and as she neared the ground she was slowed enough to touch down safely at the fountain like the other of the maids had done. One thing she had noted on the way down was that this entire place was an absolute hellhole. Unsurprising, given the current situation. "Hah... Demons making a mess of such a nice city. What a pity." She held her hands out and summoned her small doll squad to her. The appeared in a flash of light in front of her as she started to look around. "Now then, where to? That bitch of a drill instructor didn't answer my question about where they were at." The Firbolg grumbled.

Aboard the Clematis

---

"Blood Demons? I think I remember reading up about them a bit." Lucrecia said, listening to Myrilla's explanation with Kat chiming in. She raised a brow at being called 'Lulu', a nickname she didn't ask for. She looked perplexedly as the instructor went behind Kat and put her hands around her waist. Kat thought it to be, at first, a form of flirting. This was quickly proven wrong when she was forcefully flung off the airship and went head first to the ground, without a parachute one might add. "Ragazza stupida..." she uttered, shaking her head disapprovingly. While Lucrecia would normally voice an objection at such behavior, she figured they trusted this squad enough with this dangerous mission to feel that could handle such happenings. So she simply trusted her feline ally would be able to find a safe way to land. Not surprising, Myrilla also confirmed that the police had completely locked down the area so the only way in is from the air.

Lucrecia, however, was quite shocked to hear that her apparent daughter was also a part of the initial force they lost contact with. What in the world would possess the instructor to even allow this?! Even if it was a direct order from higher up. Signora, I must say I don't approve of your daughter being sent on the front lines. But I understand it is not my place to speak any further on it. So rest assured, she will be safely returned to you in perfect health."

The rest of the maids still onboard were given parachutes, along with a demon guide book of sorts and some provisions. Seeing her comrades jump off to the burning mess of what was once a city below, Lucrecia took care to give her stock a once more look over below gracefully jumping off the ship to join them.

--

Cogsfell Aftermath

---

Her trust wasn't misplaced, as Lucrecia descended she witnessed Kat slow her fall with a bit of magic and was able to land safely due to it. Good, one less thing to worry about. Overlooking the city, she was taken a back by the level of destruction. She knew that demons were powerful entities, but seeing their carnage first hand was another matter entirely. The city was more or less a giant crater now, littered with the debris of fallen buildings along with patches of horrid embers simmering everywhere. This was only her first mission as well, Lucrecia certainly had her work cut out for her to make a good first impression. It would start with making any possible contact with the previous unit and hopefully finding Myrilla's daughter. Not as though that's the only reason she wants to find her, mind you.

Making her touchdown, she took a moment to inspect the landscape. She saw nothing of interest so far, only hearing the occasional guttural roar along with a shriek of terror. See saw that Astreya and Senya were ready for action, the former shaking with excitement at using her gun while the latter readied hers as well - declaring she was prepared to kill. Meanwhile, Kat was complaining that the instructor didn't give them much direction as to where to start looking.

Lucrecia drew her twinblades, spinning them in her hands for a bit. "No use in complaining now, time to get to work."