You awake to the sound of rust-gnats buzzing around outside of whatever hovel you call a home. The sound is not uncommon in the city of Nora, as they are attracted to rust as termites are to wood. The volume of them is the odd thing though. The city has experienced a swarming in the past, but they normally move on in a few hours. The cacophony outside sounds as if the swarm is in the room with you, so you can only imagine that multiple locations within Nora are experiencing their own independent mass of rust-loving pests. How lovely...

As you leave your house with a pollution mask on to keep bugs from flying in your mouth, and possibly also goggles for your eyes, you're grateful to see that the swarms are mainly flocking to the taller buildings. You imagine the rain yesterday caused the rooftop antennas to rust causing today's event. On to more pressing matters however, it is the first day of the new recruits to the Velsar Expedition Team, or V.E.T. for short. The town creaks as the buildings settle, their weight shifting as rust is removed but pests are added, and those who find themselves outside hurry along to their destination to avoid bugs, debt-collectors, or worst of all, strangers.

The V.E.T. building is no different from the others, save for the fact that it is connected to Nora's walls. Two guards stand outside of the building but their presence is mainly to give the organization an air of professionalism. They make no move in response to the approaching guests and simply allow you to walk in unimpeded. You'd likely find others waiting in the lobby as you now are, as being the first to these events is usually grounds for some sort of hazing among the seasoned members. Luckily for whatever fool woke up early today, none of those people are here to harass you for being punctual. They had more important missions to tend to and so the building is even quieter than normal. After waiting 20 minutes past the arrival of the last recruit, who was 30 minutes late themselves, the captain of this branch of the V.E.T.s walks out onto the second floor landing that oversees the lobby. A Numan woman with pointed ears and sharp teeth, standing around six feet and with a clearly athletic build. She is infamous amongst the townsfolk for her brash attitude and her proclivity towards drinking, yet no one knows of her name and she goes only by "Captain". Your captain looks amongst the crowd, clearly displeased with the new batch of rotten apples that now call themselves vets, and mumbles something under her breath.

"Well, I don't know what I was expecting out of a place like Nora, but these days we have to take what we can get. Today begins your careers as my servants, and I intend to work you like the hounds you are! Our town has no specialty, no wealth, no honor, and that's why citizens of Nora make up twenty percent of vets and yet less than one percent of officer rank or above!" She pauses for a moment, as a realization has struck her and she decides to go off-script. "I've learned over the years the kinds of people that get drawn in to my home. If any one of you manages to become an officer, I'll let you sit in my lap for one whole meeting! I know that half of you are already drooling at the idea," she smiles wickedly putting her shark-like teeth on full display.

A loud metallic screech sounds through the streets. One of the guards from outside bursts into the building, screaming towards the captain that the wall has been breached by a Stone-Horn. Nasty reptilian beasts whose bodies attract stones that bond with their scales as they age. A fully-grown adult is about the size of an elephant, with a rhino-like horn and thick wrecking-ball tail. You can only hope that the intruder is a juvenile, closer to the size of a bull. However, the walls should be able to withstand a juvenile's charge so how on Velsar did it get through? The rain, some of you realize, it would have rusted the walls as well and then the rust-gnats would have devoured the damage overnight. Morning patrols wouldn't have been able to recognize the lack of structural integrity without a larger investigation.

Your captain listens to the report, her hand grips the handrail of the balcony as she leans over it. Her other arm outstretched and pointing in the direction of the intruder. "Alright then recruits! I suppose you have your first mission. Go to the location of the breach and bring down that Stone-Horn. Considering your numbers, and against a juvenile, I expect no more than a single causality. Those of you who make it back without serious injuries will even get a head-pat from Little Miss Commission Broker down at the desk! Well, what are you waiting for?! That's a prime reward right there!"

Little Miss Commission Broker behind the lobby desk hides behind a manila folder. The shy green Quasit's antennae poking from behind it. She clearly didn't sign up for this, but she also clearly doesn't have a choice. Some recruits have already left before hearing the reward, some left upon hearing it, and the rest left as they realized that Captain was serious about them being the ones who would fight a monster on their first day. You haven't even gotten V.E.T.-allocated combat uniforms yet.

As you arrive, you see two patrolmen keeping the beast from running rampant with nothing but dull spears and gumption but you can tell the beast is becoming agitated and those spears won't stop a full charge. More patrolmen are evacuating the city block, expecting damages to occur before long.

Germ sat up with a start and nearly banging his head on the low hanging pipework. Rokk had been kind in letting the rat sleep in his basement, sure, but it was tightly packed. It was only the blessing of Germ’s rat anatomy that made a place like this comfortable. Unfortunately for him, it was also plenty comfortable for rust-gnats. Germ managed to dodge the metal pipe, but he still got a proper lung-full of gnats.

The poor rat coughed up that nasty little swarm and scrambled out of his pile of blankets. Germ slipped on his pollution mask and ear plugs, then bundled his blankets into a ball. They ended up in a haphazard ball on top of his suitcase. He was far too excited to get to work.

Ha! Work! Germ could not remember the last time he went to an actual job. Granted, that was not new. His tail whipped back and forth as he dashed through the streets. Germ’s nimble feet dodged trash and strangers with ease. His little hands clutched at the straps of his bag. Between his teeth, he chewed the remains of a whisker. Once he arrived outside of the V.E.T. building, Germ skidded to a stop. He stared up at the creaking metal structure. His heart roared in his ears. This was it. This was Germ’s new life!



A new life looked a lot like sitting in a lobby, anxiously squirming around in a chair that did not compliment Germ’s anatomy. He pulled his feet up onto the chair with him. Germ’s nose twitched and he ran his tail between his fingertips. All the while, he counted the rings on his tail. One. Two. Three. He counted to… fifteen? Had there been that few last time? Germ’s gaze darted across the others in the room. New people. Lots of new people. Germ wanted so dearly to talk to them. It would end the painful silence. He opened and shut his mouth several times but nothing escaped. These people were scary and would probably kill him if he spoke wrong.

Just as Germ was about to speak, footsteps caught his attention. He looked up at the Captain, his ears perking up. Germ listened with an excitement that made his chair tremble. The Captain’s offer to sit on her lap instantly caught the rat’s attention. She would be such a warm lap to sit in! Big and muscular and warm and cozy. Besides, such a prospect would line up with Germ’s goals.

Germ yelped at the thunderous screech. He leapt to his feet in the chair. His hand flew instinctively to the dagger tucked into his belt, but he went still when he realized the Captain was still talking. More offers of physical touch. Germ wiggled, his tail lashing out of his fingers. He leapt from his seat, looking over at that manila folder. A small, excited squeak escaped him. With that, he scampered out of the door.



Germ slowed as he approached the scene of the rampaging beast. It was instantly apparent to Germ that his dagger would be about as helpful as a wet spaghetti noodle. Mmm… spaghetti would be good right now. Maybe garnished with this little beasty’s meat? Is garnished the right word for that?—

The crashing of metal and thunks of useless spears brought Germ back to reality. He dashed over to a pile of rubble created by the beast. His fingers worked quickly, guiding chunks of shrapnel from the remains. Once freed, Germ made a grand, sweeping gesture. All of the shrapnel lifted into the air. It was a flurry of metal blades hoisted by well-practiced magic. What was combat if not a form of art?

Germ pointed toward the beast. The blur of metal shot toward the stone-horn. Even with as little training as Germ had, he knew the metal would be useless against that stone-guarded hide. That was why Germ was not aiming for that. He was aiming to gouge the beast’s eyes.

Marsala woke suddenly to the sound of rust-gnats and shot up to see the damage they had been able to do. A clang rang out as Marsala fell back on the ground clutching their head.

Perhaps sleeping under the operating table was, in fact, not the smartest move.

They rolled to one side through a sheet that was hanging to the floor and double checked that they were no longer at risk of colliding with anything before popping up. The room around them was surprisingly lacking in gnats compared to how many it sounded like were in the room with them. They had worried the gnats had somehow found a way under the fabrics Marsala had used to cover certain surfaces. The gnats were, thankfully, swarming the trash bin and a few sparsely populated shelves on the other side of the room. They had learned from their last ‘clinic’ to never leave the important surfaces, like the operating table, uncovered. You’d be quick to find yourself without a usable… anything really.

Not wanting to risk the gnats finding a way through any fabric, Marsala made a clicking noise at the rat curled up on an old pillow tucked away into a nearby corner. The rat looked up with its blank stare and flicked its ear before Marsala motioned towards the rust-gnats. The rat stretched and began bounding in the direction of the gnats, jumping through the swarms to disperse them. Once done it sat in the middle of where they had been with an imitation of glee, an imitation of life.

With that done, Marsala began tidying up the ‘clinic’ as best they could. The new resident would be arriving sometime this morning and Marsala wanted to leave the place in a better condition than when they were hired on. Once done, they scooped their belongings out from one of the cabinets, donned a pollution mask on themself and a little bucket hat on their rat, and made for their new life.



Marsala had been warned by their employer against getting to the job too early, so here they were strolling through the streets looking for a halfway decent market during the swarming. They had been told, once upon a time, about the importance of bringing something to a new job, but they were having a hard time thinking of what they should get. Food and clothing was out of the question, as was something too expensive - they had spent a pretty penny preparing for the new job and getting Alfredo (their rat) a cute hat fit for an adventurer. A lot of their clientele had been fans of candy or stickers, but would V.E.T.s?

Mulling it over a bit, and checking their chips, they reasoned that anyone would be happy to receive something. They had enough chips to get about ten or so pieces of candy and a couple sticker sheets without breaking the bank, now all they had to do was find a shop selling them…



The shop had taken some time to find, but find they did. Now they sat at the HQ in a room with a few other individuals, making note of small details about each of them. When the captain began speaking and mentioned sitting in her lap, Marsala tried their best to mask their grimace.

It’s rude to grimace during the first meeting, right?

The screech outside had Marsala looking at the door as the guard burst into the room and Marsala found themself nodding in response to the guard’s report and the captain’s initial order. Alfredo wriggled in Marsala’s arms at the excitement in the air as they stood to leave. The mention of touch again had Marsala openly grimacing despite their best efforts, but left to the location nevertheless.

At the location, the stone-horn was becoming agitated but was ultimately focusing on the two guards and the weapons trying to keep it at bay. A flurry of shrapnel and other weaponry had Marsala acting. With a quick pat to Alfredo’s head, Marsala took his hat off and they were off toward the beast in two separate directions. Alfredo went towards its face and Marsala went to try to get in its blind spot behind it.

Vhoth’s two upper set of arms stretched up as he walked the street, the sound of the rust-gnats chewing away at anything they can get a meal from. His lower set of arms stretched out behind his back. After stretching, one of his hands moved to cover his mouth as he gave a loud yawn. It was time to meet up with Penni so they could walk together to the V.E.T building. They started a new job today!

Loud knocking rattled Penni’s house as Vhoth knocked on the siding, making a swarm of gnats fly off in frustration. They had been disturbed from their meal. He simply swatted them away from his face as they buzzed around.

“Penni!”

The side door opens and Penni peeks out with a glare. As happy as she was to see her best friend, she was worried her uncle would hear the loud knocking and stop her from joining Vhoth in becoming a recruit. She couldn’t let that happen, not with her chance of getting out so close. She shimmied out of the building and closed the door behind her before her hands started to move quickly.

Good morning. How’d you sleep? Penni slipped on her goggles and mask before pulling the hood of her cloak over her horns. No mask? She added, motioning to her own face in emphasis.

Vhoth looked at her for a moment, confused as to why she was gesturing at her mask before he let out a laugh. “Oh yeah!” He reached down with his lower right hand and unclipped his pollution mask from his belt and pulled it on quickly. He held a thumbs up to her then, obviously smiling behind said mask by the crinkle near his eyes.

Just forgot! Are you excited or what! I can’t believe we get to go together finally! He walked slightly behind her so that he had to match his pace with her, his strides were much bigger!

The springs of her prosthetic legs squeaked with each step as Penni tried to hurry along towards the V.E.T. Building. She knew that he was trying to let her set the pace with her short limbs, but his excitement could hardly be contained. Her eyes crinkled behind her goggles, her way of expressing happiness. Not that Vhoth could see, though, since her goggles were heavily tinted to save her eyes from the light.

Your enthusiasm in the morning has always been admirable, but it seems especially infectious today.

Duh! We’re starting fresh today! I can’t wait to see outside the wall! He looked up to the building when they reached it. He opened the door for Penni and followed her inside, eyes looking around to the others that had already gathered. Once Penni found the spot she wanted, Vhoth obliged by standing behind her and then squatting down.

He looked like a giant shadow and was still taller than her when he was crouched like this. One of his lower arms was bracing himself so he didn’t fall over, while he was running two more of his hands through her hair to fix the little bit of bed head she had.

Penni was used to this behavior from Vhoth by now, she just hoped that none of the other recruits would think that they could touch her in such a friendly manner. She tried her best to listen to the formidable captain, but her attention kept shifting to the others in the room. She kept her goggles and mask on even inside, so it’s not as if anyone would notice her gaze. At the sound of the screeching metal and the running guard, her head turns to watch before the captain gives her orders.

Others started moving and Penni turned to Vhoth to sign. Let’s get going, maybe you’ll get a head-pat from the broker! Fighting was always something the tiny numan was familiar with.

Vhoth looked down to Penni, watching her sign before he probably made a face. “I’d rather get a head pat from you.” He stood, watching others move out before leaning down. “Excuse me.” He carefully picked up Penni in two of his four arms and started out of the building. She was about to argue that she’s perfectly capable of getting there herself, but instead she just accepted her fate. Once outside, Vhoth ran towards the direction everyone else seemed to be going.

Once they reached the spot, he panted softly behind the mask, examining what was going on. Those spears definitely weren’t going to do anything. He talked as he eased Penni to the ground. “I’m gonna try to grapple with it. Try to find a weak point and don’t aim for the ankles!”

He moved further forward and crouched a little to assess the creature. After a moment he simply shrugged and rushed forward. He attempted to grapple the head, a hand on its protruding horn while two arms went to grab a hold of its head and the last one reaching to grab whatever it could for grip. He then shifted his weight and made it harder for him to get pushed around.

Meanwhile, Penni furrowed her brow. If she shouldn’t aim for the ankles, where else was she supposed to stab? She watched from a distance as her friend wrestled the giant beast before starting to look over the Stone-Horn for any weak points. Between the scales maybe? She took a deep breath as she watched the beast’s movement before deciding to take her chance. Maybe the scales on its back wouldn’t be as hard as the ones by its feet.

With a groan, Elio rose from his rest, his head ringing from the incessant hum of the rust gnats… he stood from his cot, looking out the old window into the streets before his dilapidated living conditions. He pulled the thin cloth that could pass as a curtain over the glass, grabbing his mask from the windowsill and turning to the scrap metal spear that sat leaning against the wall. One of the only things he could trust in this world.



Hand outstretched, the spear raised to meet him, grasping the cold rust, he could feel the filaments digging into his skin. Of course, this wasn't any pain that he wasn't used to. Advancing toward the door, taking his brimmed hat from upon its hook before open his door to the world outside…

---

Swatting away rust gnats from him, attracted to the rusted metal of his spear, as well as the flying vermin attempting to feed off of the shards that jutted from his skin… it wasn't the weirdest thing that could be seen, but that didn't quite matter to him. The debtor had entered the headquarters of the V.E.T, late evidently as everyone seemed to be there already, taking a seat at random, ending up next to a Rat Wasteman, not uttering a word as he set his spear down beside him, letting the weapon rest against the adjacent chair. His iridescent oculi stared around the space from soul to soul, an attempt to figure out exactly who and what he would be working with…

He hated mornings like these… quiet and somber, it forced thought. As loud outside as it was, it held within a deeper and speculative quiet that brought his eyes to a gentle close, visions of what had come before, phantasms of that which had past… He shook the thoughts away, nothing could change the past. The future and a hope to free himself from his debt was all that stood before him now.

The Captian's appearance was a welcome sight, the sharp-toothed woman's voice cutting through the deafening silence of Elio's thoughts, reeling him back to the realm that was his reality. But of course, he gets no half-hearted banter, but instead an assignment. Such a troublesome job… the rewards were lackluster, though he wasn't one to estimate other wayward soul's opinions of such a matter. If they wanted a pat on the back, or head in this case, for their work then so be it. The outcome would come out the same either way.

Though it would be nice to go the wrong way ‘round. Have someone owe me.

This wasn't the time, nor place for this. He stood, last to come, and now near last to leave. He tipped his hat low, adjusting the sleeves of his overcoat, making sure it covered what it needed. He didn't need rust gnats eating away at his ‘reserves’ after all, his scarred hand brushing against the small patch of tan fur that lay on the inner of his right wrist, one of many, covered by the long sleeves of his coat. Grasping his weapon, he made for the door, his gait brisk and firm.

One walks with purpose, the rigidity of steel and the regularity of a machine. You are not without purpose, so embrace it. Show it.

Wise words. Or maybe he was just used to saying it. Who was he kidding, he was partway to becoming a Qill any way you slice it, the chemistry of his body slowly becoming more metallic, becoming the vessel for the rusted metal that his magic was supposed to allow him to control. The pain was managable, be didn't know why his mind kept circling back to this… the injustice of it all… Just one of the reasons to join the expedition.

But the world was never fair. Was it?

He kept on, faster now. The others would end up killing the damn thing faster than he could get there. A brisk jog could get him to where he needed.

---

Arrival.

The scene was chaos already. A creature with hide as thick as this would require pure energy or force, if only it had a conduit to the flesh beneath… The spear of the debtor soon left his hand, keeping in step with his arm as he raised it, his movement refusing to cease as he circled closer, a hunter seeking to cut off its prey.

Lest not the veil of ignorance be pierced. Silence those who speak about the beyond.



A thrust and a flinch, sending a sharper point to meet its mark, the ragged multi-point impaling edge honed as far as his abilities allow.

Now I just pray it doesn't break...

The best part of being underwater, Cambrian reckoned, was that the rain didn’t bother and the gnats couldn’t go underwater. Hell, he’d welcome the rain, an opinion many in these scrappy, forsaken settlements rejected— after all, it was fresh water, easy to breathe, clearing up the built up dirt and gunk from the old water, cleaning the sewer systems and canals… it made his stomping ground far easier to, well, stomp around. Swim around, actually…

It was the light that woke him up. The light that filtered absolutely everywhere and refused to let his sensitive eyes rest. As far as Cambrian knew, he descended from lots of weird deep-sea creatures… so he let himself have that excuse for his eerie preference for darkness. Unlike most days, though, he didn’t dread this one. This was the day he might be able to eke out some semblance of freedom. Maybe he’d no longer hide away in a crevice and camouflage once he solidified a space in the V.E.T. He gave a loud hiss.. this damn mafia he’d been working for his whole life. It was scary, was it not? The squid swam out of his crevice and let himself become his normal self. Reds, whites, and blacks suddenly reflected off the rusted surfaces and danced with the light— his colors, broken up only by his tanned humanoid skin and the pale sweatshirt and pants he still wore that billowed with the water. He looked up from the water— so much, it was so much. The gnats made the sky look clouded. Disgusting. The worst part about these wretched bugs was that standard issue gas masks didn’t fit over him properly, leaving the slits he actually breathed through exposed. He opted for a large neck gaiter, instead, and tucked the lower part under his sweatshirt while the upper half sat snugly over his ears and the bump on his face that vaguely imitated a nose. It had to be good enough.

Finally, he surfaced. He met the sun. He met the gnats. He met the rain. He met the day. Cambrian thanked his past self for preparing— for meeting his quota early so the higher ups won’t go looking for him today. He had the day to himself today, to “rest,” he mentioned to his slavers, but he knew it was to run off. To be free.

————————————

The lobby didn’t have any gnats in it, so Cambrian promptly pulled the gaiter down to reveal his gentle face. He proceeded to bite at his hand until it started to bleed an inky black substance. It calmed him. The pain helped overcome his anxiousness. The pain helped tune out that captain that assumed he was just there for… a warm body? That wasn’t right, at least not for him. He’d sooner stab her and rend her flesh to ribbons before sitting on her lap. Then again, he’d sooner do that to anyone— he found that idea fascinating! Flesh ribbons. What would he do with those…—

His thought process was cut off by that sound of the beast. Perfect timing! The bastard didn’t even choose to wait for the captain to finish, he just kept to his feet when he was told to take that damned stone-horn creature on. After all, he so deeply wanted to turn one thing into ribbons at that moment. Oh, it would be great, just one touch of his fingers against that skin… first, though, he had to break open the damn rocks and gunk that the stupid lizard built up. Or, he had to find an opening. A weak spot. Counting the guards acting like useless buffoons with their dumb pointy sticks, there were… five..? People. Five and a half, counting the non-wastefolk rat.

The hide wasn’t entirely uniformly stone, just stones cobbled together like a pathway, fused with the flesh instead of making a solid armor piece— resistant to normal attacks, of course, but not to what he was planning. The tail couldn’t swing up to the neck. The neck couldn’t bend unless there was a gap in the stones. On top of all that, this meddlesome, godforsaken creature was being bombarded by the five other people there. The lizard thing couldn’t reach for Cambrian with its teeth on its neck… that was when Cambrian knew where to strike, where to make beautiful crimson spill like paint.

He decided, then and there, to climb up wherever he could, leap for the beast’s neck, and make blood spray from a gash wound as big and deep he could muster. This was going to be fun.

Hunger woke Erin far earlier than they had planned. It took all of the motivation in their body to hoist herself off their cot and drudge to the almost barren pantry. Carefully she swept the canned rations off the bottom shelf into her pack with their tail. With lunch now accounted for they tentatively reached for the nearest can.

Come on dearie, you can do it. That's it, grasp with one hand, hold it in place; pinch the pull tab with the other. Fuck it snapped off, let me just get a closer look I'm sure I can get this....

The instant after she started to adjust her look they knew they had slipped up. They tried to hold themself back from the involuntary lurch forward and subsequent hawking back of the entire can. The attempt was not unlike a small child trying to dogwalk a car. The can and its contents vanished down her gullet with a gulp that filled the small basement apartment. A shameful sigh was what came up in response.
Well nothing can be done bout it now but try again. Maybe the aches later will be tolerable later. Are lies whiter when they are to yourself?

The snare tucked behind the shelves was retrieved and her jaw was affixed to prevent subsequent incidents. The aluminum string stung but small pain now was worth avoiding worse pain later. Hopefully one day they wouldn't need the damned thing and would just be able to maintain basic self-control. By the time the remaining cans had been emptied onto the table and the self applied muzzle was off the drone of the rust gnats above had been drilling into their skull for minutes. It was almost bothersome enough to drive out the undeniable fact that rent was not getting made this month. Junk-diving wasn't cutting it; hadn't been for a while now. Only one other place in this town where she could apply themselves enough to earn a living.

The VET office was crowded by the time her tail was dragged through its door. She tried to find a corner to consume, it and her yellow sundress attempts to appear less imposing. Strangers too often see their own instigations as defensive if their victim is perceived as the inherent threat, and the Odilia's had passed down the lesson down. Granted the fellers round this room prolly 'ave swam that same pond. they thought after a few glances round the room at her future coworkers. She listened attentively when her new boss spoke, stifling a chuckle at the "sit in my lap" line. Ma'am you may be good for your size but id still crush ya, lil thing. A head pat was a far more plausible reward, but hopefully this place offers some nice financial benefits somewhere; my landlord ain't gonna take a lil head pat.

Erin existed after most of the crowd and subsequently showed up after the others had already gotten started in bringing the beast down.

Most of the others seemed like smaller folk, staying at a distance or trying to look for a soft spot to capitalize upon and a route to it. Except blondie who seems to be attempting match this thing head on. I recon the scales on the underbelly have to be a might softer than the ones there on the back. If I can simply get by.

They dove into earth, which while mere seconds ago was hard rock, now moved round them like calm water. For most of the charge only eyes and snout were visible, but once they got close enough she took a deep breath and dived. Seconds later she ruptured forth adjacent to the stone-horns left hind quarter. Her jaws tried to lock on the base of the tail, right hand grabbing further down to control the flail like appendage, left hand on its hip. She put all of her weight into trying to force the beast down either into a sitting position or onto its side.

---

Every day begins the same as the last, dark and quiet within the underground bunker that Cyrus had discovered during his years as a watchmen. The surface city, no matter how sleepy, buzzed with electricity, whispers, and footsteps. The vigilant boy had trouble placing the directions that noises came from due to his heightened hearing making source and echo indistinguishable from each other. His subterranean home blocked out the noises from above and acted as a sensory relief room since he hadn't bothered to fix the electrical wiring either. Cyrus senses were always above average, but his training unlocked quasi-magical abilities that allowed him to increase them further at the cost of never being able to turn off the improvements to his hearing. He quickly enhanced his natural night-vision, allowing him to not just navigate his lightless room but properly find the many small objects that were part of his day-to-day attire. Earmuffs meant to muffle gunfire that he used to lessen the noise, goggles that keep sand out of his eyes but also dull bright lights, a gas mask that gave him better protection from the smoke and dust of the city than the general-use pollution masks, baggy clothing that allowed him more freedom in his movement for proper aim, military backpack with travel and gun-maintenance supplies, and finally his watchmen's rifle that he was allowed to keep in his job change. Cyrus slowly gathered his belongings, carefully tucking his feathers into his earmuffs, and made for the ladder leading out of his bunker.

As he reached the hatch, light poured in from the air grate and so did the buzzing from the rust-gnats outside. Cyrus turned off his visual improvement and once again wished for the ability to do the same for his hearing. The outside world was louder than usual, and he quickly found out why as he opened the hatch. The semi-collapsed building that hid his bunker from others had the insects buzzing around its ceiling as no-one cared to oil-coat the metal accessories up there anymore. Luckily, he had recently de-rusted and oiled the hatch and grate, otherwise he'd likely have had roommates when he woke up. The morning walk to the HQ was uneventful for the most part, however Cyrus made sure to take note of the other recruits he noticed walking the same path ahead of him. A large man with four arms carrying a small girl with prosthetic legs in front of him, and another small individual carrying a bag of candy behind him.

It seems the rumors about the Captain's new strategy is true. Recruiting individuals with innate talents or magic and then training them to be capable as opposed to recruiting skilled individuals from the guard force or the watchmen. I guess my resume was unnecessary then, seeing as how I was likely hired for my Neural Enhancement instead. That's almost disappointing, but also interesting.

The HQ's lights were bright, and the room hummed from background noise. Most of the recruits were quiet, almost shy, and definitely uncertain of proper etiquette. Cyrus sat immediately at a table, back straightened and eyes forward until the captain called for his attention. The speech was short, and cut even shorter by the sound of metal on stone. The wall had been breached and it was time to act, but the ex-watchmen couldn't help but wonder what his old coworkers were doing to allow this. Vulnerabilities in the wall were never overlooked on his watch, but he supposed the others couldn't enhance their visuals like he could.

Cyrus wasn't as fast as the others, he was trained to maintain his stamina and to hustle but not run. The others were practically sprinting and so he arrived last to the conflict. He stayed back as far as possible, laid on the ground for steadiness, and aimed at the beast. Range was clear, but the others more random movements made line of sight less certain. He improved his visual intake which also heightened his light sensitivity, and pulled his goggles over his eyes as he cast the spell. Now all he had to do, was wait for the beast's eye to be open, unobstructed, and still so he could take his shot.

---

The beast of stone and scale prepares itself for the group of 8 that charges it. Vhoth and Penni charge first as Germ, Marsala, and Elio take up positions. The Stone-Horn ignores the small one jumping onto its back, comfortable knowing that its scales are too durable to pierce with such a small knife, and instead focuses its attention on the four-armed brute. It turns to face him head on, and bites down onto his shoulder as the other three arms struggle to find purchase on its face. A strong grip on its horn is acquired and the beast shakes to free itself or rip the bitten shoulder off, whichever comes first.

Germ takes this opportunity to send the flurry of shards, but that amount of shards forms a nasty cloud that cares not for friend or foe. The shards scratch at the creature's face as it closes its eyes, but it also tears into Vhoth, weakening his grip. The Stone-Horn jerks its head around as it turns to try and exit the cloud, and throws Vhoth towards Germ. The two crash into each other, and the control over the swarm of metal is lost as they drop to the ground.

Elio finds himself nicely at the beast's side, but the only uncovered point is near where Penni has found herself. This fazes him not, as his control over his spear insures he'll get close but not hit her. The spear cracks a scale and pierces flesh, but the wound is shallow and the spear falls out and to the ground. Penni, ever the opportunist, sees the newly made weak spot and begins stabbing into the spear-made hole.

It gnashes towards its back, leaving its neck exposed. Suddenly, the squidfolk known as Cambrian appears at its neck and scales rip apart as a shallow cut arcs across its throat and blood runs out. The Stone-Horn brings its horn down to smash him and breaks open the ground in its attempt, but the flexible squid maneuvers out of the way with only his own gash on his leg from the tip of the creature's horn. An injury that could have been avoided if Cambrian wasn't distracted by the beast's bleeding. Now knowing the abilities of its hunters, the Stone-Horn is wary of the magic users and of Marsala who has stayed at its rear this entire time, plotting something.

It hasn't forgotten about the prick on its back and manipulates the positions of some rocks to block the wounds on its back and neck. As it watches the circling vultures, it doesn't notice the crocodile coming from underneath. Erin grabs onto its leg and tail, but without Vhoth's strength she cannot keep it still in the same way. It lefts its hind legs and attempts to crush her underfoot, but the ground there is still mud and the impact is lessened as Erin is submerged. Its foot sinks into the mud puddle, hampering its movements.

In this situation, the Stone-Horn is instinctively aware that it has been wounded, but none of its assailants have suffered any real damage. Desperation and the lack of movement cause it to send the rocks that are not guarding open wounds to circle it, and shoot stones out at every angle. Adult Stone-Horns usually use this ability to switch between attack and defense, but Juveniles know their stones don't cover enough ground for defense to be useful and are much more willing to lash out like this. The stones move fast enough to crack a bone if they make impact and once they reach the Stone-Horns max range, they are pulled back in to the swarm surrounding it to be sent off again. The downside of this ability is that the beast must stand still. It hunkers down, guarding its underbelly and neck to be less vulnerable, but it remains still with its eyes open and occasionally unobstructed.

A shot rings out, as blood pools around its eye. Sadly, it's a miss that hit just above its mark. The blood trail going into its eye will thankfully still obstruct its vision. Osprey re-aligns his shot, taking into account the wind created by the stone's movement. He won't miss again under these conditions.

---

That gash was worth it for Cambrian. Look at all that red! That beautiful red flowing like liquid satin in all this chaos. Like red velvet! Red velvet…. That’s a cake, right? Red velvet, it should’ve been named after blood, should’ve been named… oh. Cambrian shook his head and stared at the black oozing out of his leg. He liked that pain! It was fun! But now he couldn’t exactly walk. Times like these are when he wished he had proper bones, but he didn’t. Alas.

He spent only a few minutes crudely forcing his flesh back together, just enough so he could stand and run. It was nowhere near as elegant or fast as the way he could make flesh bubble out red with just a touch. And, oh, how deeply he wanted to make that beast bubble out red! Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, too. And there was more blood as the damned lizard continued to swirl its stupid bloodless stones everywhere. Cambrian wasn’t looking for the stones. He was looking for blood! The lizard’s blood! How inconsiderate that gross beast was, not to let him end its early life right then and there amongst all the chaos.

It was then that Cambrian had an idea. A great idea!! He let himself flatten on the ground, taking a moment to savor the pain of his crudely mended wound, and he started to take the color and texture of the mud. That lizard was swinging aimlessly around with the junk it collected on its flesh, and as long as it would swing aimlessly, Cambrian could get in there and make a beautiful mess. He was already in his own mind, seeing how that dragon would bleed, seeing the glorious red and the black, how it would bubble and squelch, how the rocks would break and turn the very soil into a deep, bloody slurry— how the rocks would drop when that lizard bled out too much. Of course, his loose shirt and pants didn’t meld to the ground with him, but it was fine! The beast couldn’t see his head or his limbs and he could simply stretch where he needed. He could be like the wind. He was already on the ground. All he had to do was get close and strike!

He took a slow, careful look around, and began his way towards the monster, moving with the ground in a strange, slug-like crawl.

Cambrian had no sense of time. The seconds felt like days. The days felt like seconds. But the seconds and the days were filled with so much fun! It was such a great time! Oh, there would be so much blood! The poor people around him would get covered, but it was fine! They all had the same objective as him, right? Killing that stone-horn beast? He didn't need to be so careful! The people would get splattered, but who cared?! The lizard would be dead. And that was all that mattered. The blood was all that mattered to him at that moment.

---

---

There is a loud grunt at the bite into his shoulder before he hisses as he feels the shards tear into his body. He tries to grab a hold as he feels his grip loosen but it’s to no avail. With a few shakes of the head, Vhoth is sent flying.

Thankfully, he’s used to it. His body contorts in the air, making his landing somewhat softer. As he lands on the smaller form, three of his arms wrap around Germ and hold them close, as Vhoth rolls a couple times.

He pants softly, waiting for his vision to quickly orient itself before he sets Germ on their feet. “Sorry about that!” Germ couldn’t see the grin under the mask, but he was definitely making one. He set a hand on Germ’s head for a moment and then turned and started to run back into the fight.

He didn’t have time to assess his wounds or actually worry if he was bleeding or not. He paused in front of the Stone-Horn for a moment to take in the situation. There was fighting on the top. He could see Penni and then Cambrian make quick work for bleeding. He watched Erin try to hold the tail and sink into the mud. Huh. Thankfully he hadn’t been in the line of the shot, as he watched it sink just above the eye.

There! That was the perfect opportunity while the beast was trying to orient itself with its obscured vision. He rushed in again, working his four armed grip to grab a hold of the front of the beast this time. One arm gripping the horn, while the other three worked to grab at the jaw to close it and to just hold on.

Two grabbed the bottom of the jaw, gripping it while the last arm not on the horn reached to grip at anything to find purchase. He shifted his stance to brace easier as he held onto the Stone-Horn. Hopefully, being up in its vision will help obscure some of the others to make quicker work.

Marsala was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate not only on Alfredo’s movements but also their own as the battlefield picked up in chaos. This would be something they would have to improve on, and fast if they were going to be a V.E.T.

Chalk it up to lack of battlefield experience. Perhaps I’ll be able to get pointers on that later.

Marsala had, thankfully, managed to pick up on the beast’s watchful eyes and wariness that accompanied it. As such, they had opted to keep themself out of the fight for now. Focusing more on Alfredo’s movements within everything, keeping the stone-horn on its toes, and observing their allies to better assist them seemed to be more productive than getting in their ways. Their teammates seemed to be more comfortable around physical conflict and Marsala didn’t want to be a hindrance. They were worried that the others would find it distasteful to have a rat step on them during the fight. Worse than that, they may find it distracting enough to get injured. Marsala themself didn’t find the reward enthralling, but obviously some on the field would or surely the captain wouldn’t have suggested it. And, Marsala was not about to squander another’s reward.

Marsala watched as the battlefield changed. One ally replaced by another. Someone underground, making the footing unsteady. Metal cloud clatters and turns into opposing rock cloud. A small opening in its side, made through opportunistic teamwork. Two allies colliding forcefully. A bullet ringing out and working to obscure the creature’s vision.

Nothing worked to create an opening for Alfredo to wriggle his little self inside and the stone-horn had hunkered down to be more defensive. The only opportunity came from Cambrian at its head. When the stone-horn would have gone to bite him as it did Vhoth, Alfredo could jump in then. But the wasteman didn’t stay for long as he began searching for a new focal point.

He was quickly replaced once again by Vhoth. Marsala wasn’t worried too much over the quasit’s health, as most others tend to heal significantly faster, but Marsala had taken note of where he landed. They had seen him get sent flying and crash into Germ, and had seen no hostility from Vhoth directed at the rat wasteman!

Surely he wouldn’t mind Alfredo climbing on him if he didn’t mind coming into contact with the rat wasteman! Alfredo is small and cute, smells like wildflowers, and is clean. Plus he wears a little hat. All of these should be favorable traits compared to one that is… lacking some of his tail.

Alfredo weaved around the debris on the field to get to Vhoth, making haste in scampering up his leg and along one of his arms currently keeping the stone-horn’s mouth clamped shut. Coming face to face with the obstacle that was a closed mouth, Alfredo stopped on Vhoth’s arm. He pawed at the stone-horn’s mouth while looking back at Vhoth with lifeless, glass eyes and letting out a short squeak. It needed to get inside of the stone-horn and administer the poison if Marsala was going to induce delayed response times. Marsala wouldn’t have to worry about being in anyone’s way if the beast’s openings last longer.

Germ, admittedly, felt a tiny bit bad for scratching up his four-armed ally. It was an unfortunate reminder that he would need to learn to be more accurate if he intended on fighting with a team. The smells and sounds of such chaotic combat were also overwhelming. Sure, the rat had experienced many scraps in his life, but full blown combat like this was a lot. Germ would get used to it, though. He had to if he intended to leave this place. The rat was about to drop his razors to keep them from harming his friends further–



The four-armed fellow crashed bodily into Germ. Strong, muscular arms wrap around his small, fuzzy frame, revealing just how underfed the poor rat is. His ribs and spine were fully felt underneath his skin. The fellow was warm. Terrifyingly strong. Germ’s whiskers twitched as he let out a squeak with each roll. All of his fur stood on end and his ears, as pesky and large as they were, perked up. Germ’s little rat fingers hooked into the fellow’s clothes until he was firmly set on the ground. He stared up at that four-armed ally, barely managing to squeak out a breathy, ”Th-Thank you!-- Er– Sorry?-- It’s fine!”

Germ was stuck staring as the fellow rushed back into the field, his tail suddenly back between his fingers. It was rare the little freak was manhandled these days, especially when people were not trying to kill him for some sort of mystery debt he did not remember. Granted, Germ's stillness was only for a few seconds. He had no time to waste, something that was made very clear as a sharp stone stopped only inches from Germ’s chest. He stared down at it for a second, then leapt backward. More flesh was exposed now, which was good. Unfortunately, his tiny razors were doing the equivalent of paper cuts. A swarm like that would do no good if it hurt his allies more than the beast they were hunting. Germ crouched down, reducing the surface area that could get hit by rocks. Then he wiggled his fingers. They were a bit harder to control from this distance, but Germ’s rusted swarm still lifted into the air.

It took Germ a moment to act. His breath fell still, something that was rare for the anxiety addled rodent. Only his nose twitched as he thought. Then, with a swift flick of his wrist, Germ sent his razor swarm underneath the wall of rocks. Sure, some of the metal would be deflected away, but this gave Germ a chance to take out its legs. He licked his whiskers as the metal shards clumped together. Then he sent the shards flying at top speed toward the underside of this thing’s knees.

---

Penni has to scramble as rocks on the beast begin moving around to find another spot to keep her hold on its back. It’s too bad; she would have happily continued stabbing the hole made from one of the other numan’s spear. As it is, her repetitive stabbing has only proven to hurt the beast enough to make it rearrange its rocky exterior. Her eyes flick around as she watches some of the stones fly off of the Stone-Horn and only narrowly miss some of the others before she decides her next course of action.

Staying low to help her stay on, she moves towards the neck. There’s two reasons she’s made this her next destination; one is that she watched Vhoth resume his place there shortly after being thrown. If she should be flung off, he will at least see where she lands if not catch her. The second reason is to get closer to the bloody trail that’s obstructed the beast’s vision as well as the gash made to its neck by Cambrian. She’s actually glad to see he’d made it since the two of them have been fantasizing about escaping the syndicate long before today.

Back to the task at hand. The tiny thing aims to blind the beast further if she can get within reach of its eyes, possibly helping the others in this motley crew do more damage. As she moves, she notices a tiny thing upon Vhoth’s arm pawing at the mouth. Peculiar… but not really her place to try and understand what it wanted right now. Hopefully Vhoth will help with what it needs.

Finding a good spot to hold herself without falling, she throws out and spins one of her chained daggers. The action itself looks much like a lasso of a herder, except for the gleam the metal gets when it catches the light. Hopefully the beast won’t notice that. With a fluid movement of her wrist, she jerks the chain and swings the dagger towards the unobstructed eye of the Stone-Horn.

It didn't take but a second for Erin to realize she may have bitten off more than she can chew. Trying to pin the mammoths entire backside solo had been a laughably miscalculated endeavor. Between being unable to get a solid grip and trying to outmatch the beast in strength, trying to pin the beast was so hopeless it made her start wondering why she thought it would work in the first place. The realization had just begun digging a pit in her stomach when she felt the large creature preparing to kick. They clenched their eyes and braced themselves for what was surely gonna be a crushing blow.

Damn. Had the job for hardly 'n hour and already gonna get stomped out. I knew the gig was way riskier than my previous schticks. Should've been more careful. Aint no time to dodge and no one else back here to help. Crud, there has to be some way to not get smashed to bits on my first day.

The obvious solution hit her just before the beast stomp to her abdomen. It shoved her down and under its giant foot. She reached back with her magic as they went down, liquifying the ground beneath her. Once both her and the scaled leg pinning her were fully submerged in the quickly solidifying ground Erin twisted around and swam away to get from under her adversary.

Once they were a safe distance she came up to the surface. She crested with just her eyes the tip of her snout poking up, facing the beast. The stonehorn's confusion was apparent even from this angle. She glanced at the front of the beast to see her new coworkers swarming its horned bust. The gunshot gave a momentary spike in hope. Maybe the fight was finished as instantaneously as it had begun! In a second the pause was over and the brawl had reignited in full force.

Damn! I thought with how loud that was surely it'd do more. Back to it I suppose. I don't see much of a need for me in the circus up front, and I'd pro'lly be more in the way than actually accomplishing anything at all. However big 'n' brutish is really struggling to get its foot back out of the ground. I think I can keep that nasty looking tail from becoming a problem. Alright its laying limp about ten feet away or so. Hopefully this beast doesn't start flinging that thing around all willy nilly.

With that Erin dived back down deep. After full body length or two they corkscrewed into a U-turn. They swam up with at full speed. Right upon breaking the surface the tip of her snout bumped in something, presumably, hopefully, the reptiles tail. The snapping instinct that for so much of Erin's life was a debilitation was for the first time a benefit. The moment her jaw locked on to the lower end of the appendage and she jerked her head to start diving back down. They towed the beasts tail down deep into the dirt.

A chink in the armor. It wasn't what Elio hoped for, but it was a damn good start. He took a glance at the others, or the others that he could see this side of the beast anyway, progress was being made without a doubt, so he needed to pick up some slack. What's the point of making a weakness if it can't be exploited? He stepped forward, his hand outstretched again, and stones shifted beneath his feet as his momentum picked up. It was time to pick up a bit of slack. The contact of stone beneath Elio's feet and the familiar stick of rust in his hand, the rippling pain of the fragments digging in and feeling his stores as they were beneath his skin...

One small drop, in a mouthful of blood.

A trickle of sanguine lifeblood dribbled down from his right arm, a new opportunity surfacing. He needed to get some of the excess out, lest he start losing mobility. He felt like an old man with arthritis when he thought of it, joint problems arising ever since his magic. So he used it. He rolled up his overcoat's sleeves, rust gnats still swarming around as if they were attracted merely by its presence, rusted metal peeking from his flesh like amethyst escaping its geode.

Painful little bitch... I can hardly tell the difference between being stabbed with a needle or metal breaking through... What the hell am I talking about, they're the same feeling anyway.

A pull, a tug, like yanking a fishhook straight out of your arm, blood was no longer held back by the narrow seam between rust and flesh, his lifeblood ran free with the pained grunt that came forth from deep within Elio's throat. The chunk, no larger than two, maybe three, inches long, a few centimeters in thickness, and more than a few barbs that still clung to the flesh that it was birthed from, floated unsteadily beside him as he came closer to the stone-horn, eyes focused on his man-made weakness. His spear was thrust forward like the banner of some general leading troops into battle, the 'cheap shot' firing forward towards its mark and gaining quick momentum, its half-assed marksman soon to follow.

Charging in like some barbarian... hmph. Sounds fun, there's a first time for everything after all.

The spear tugging him forward, upward, onward... pain begets emotion, the heat of passion and apathy. With a step dug deep he reaches for the sky, velocity and continuance of motion carrying his journey forward. His spear was trained behind his bullet prepared to strike.

The Hammer and the Chisel.



The words bellowed from his chest as he struck the nail with whatever force he could muster mid-air, the clanging frequency of metal ringing against one another echoed in his ears...

A true symphony.

---

Cyrus's shot had failed to meet his mark, but he knew how to avoid missing his second. Mental adjustments to his processing abilities allowed him to quickly find the changes necessary to account for the stone-horn's defenses. He scribbles the new numbers into the dirt on the ground and then realigns those adjustments back to his eyesight allowing him to enact those changes. Going back and forth between his sights and his calculations took time, so Cyrus would just have to hope the Stone-Horn didn't start moving again.

Unfortunately, the battlefield had progressed quicker then Cyrus could prepare his second shot. His allies actions changed the situation rapidly. Accounting for wind and flying stones was one thing, but all of these bodies were another. Most of his allies were frontline combatants, aimed for the face, or were particularly reckless and a good number of them were all 3. Aiming for the eye was a lost cause at this point, he risked shooting the four-armed man or the small girl were his shot to veer which was increasing likely with the storm of stones swirling the area. He readjusted his aim to the creature's chest with the intent to pierce its lung or its heart if he was lucky.

Wind, Check. Stones, Check. Assumed Rib-cage position, Check. Range and Bullet Drop, Check. Swarm of metal shrapnel, Check... wait, what?

The ratfolk had sent another onslaught of rust and razors, blocking the line of fire for the chest. Cyrus couldn't even bother to be annoyed as he looked for another opening. The tail has no vulnerabilities to exploit and would just anger the beast rather than injure it, the body is heavily obscured, the head risks friendly fire. However, both the allies on the head were Quasits. They would recover even if he were to shoot them in the head or heart, so long as their connection to each other isn't severed. Their species' existence and monsters like them are the reason firearms didn't become prolific weaponry after all.

Cyrus once again positioned his shot for the head, taking in all of his calculations again before taking fire. If they weren't in a populated area, he could simply take rapid shots as his rifle was semi-automatic. Since he risked not just shooting allies but also nosy civilians like that though, he better make this shot count.

---

The beast's rocks fill the area around it as multiple members of the recruits dash forward into the fray. Cambrian takes advantage of his unique physiology to slink under the swarm and approach the creature's belly. Vicious energy slashes forward and rends scales and flesh alike as blood flows outwards and coats the squidman. A Stone-Horns underbelly contains dense muscle and fat protecting its organs from wounds such as these, but dense muscles still require heavy blood flow and so the bloodlusted freak gets exactly what he was after. Then comes the flurry of razors from the rat, tearing into the underbelly and sinking into the gash created by Cambrian. Unfortunately, Germ once again has to deal with an ally jumping into the target of his attack and the squid proceeds to suffer multiple cuts as the razors assault him as well. He hardly notices, too invested in the stream of ichor pouring onto his body.

Meanwhile, Vhoth powers through the storm and endures the bruises he will inevitably gain. He grabs onto the immobile beast's face, clamping its mouth shut so that it wouldn't bite him yet again, while Penni climbs onto its head and with a flourish launches an attack towards its uninjured eye. Inexperience with true brawls lead to mistakes, as the knife stabs itself into one of the arms of her friend that is wrapped around this side of the head. A wound that may sting, but a reckless Quasit would be used to by this point. What he may not be used to however, is the presence of a small rodent named Alfredo that is pawing at the Stone-Horn's mouth. Empty eyes glistening as if begging to be allowed into the jaws of certain death. Why this fine-smelling friend would want to die so badly is uncertain but it is unlikely to get its wish fulfilled by the friendly giant.

To the creature's right, Elio hammered a sharpened, rusted nail into the creature's side. The initial impact of the nail lodging it into the scales and the second impact from the spear forcing it deeper in. The spike disappears into its flesh and painful wheeze can be heard as a lung is punctured. On the creature's left, Cyrus fires into the Stone-Horn's eye and it ruptures with a sickening squish. Half-blind and short of breath, not to mention the bleeding and shredded wound below, this monster struggles to resist having its tail pulled into the mud created by the crocodilian at its rear.

The Stone-Horn's plan had worked, but at great cost. It was deeply injured, but it now had five of its assailants within striking range. It dropped its stones, almost seeming as if it had perished before thrashing its body in a circle. The weight of the crocodile and the mud not enough to keep its tail contained as it spins. Vhoth is too strong and too resilient to be flung again, and is dragged across the ground with his feet planted to attempt to slow its attack. Erin's bite also wasn't easily shaken and instead she would be flung along with the creature's tail. Penni's grip strength however, doesn't compare as she falls off the head and into the path of assault. The wrecking ball and crocodile combo first slams into Elio knocking him aside a solid ten feet, and continues before stopping an inch in front of the small girl's face. Penni's head saved from direct impact by Vhoth's stubbornness. As for Cambrian, his sloshing body in a pool of blood luckily oozes out from under the stomping of the Stone-horn as he blissfully attempts to dye his body red. The squidman's form seems weirdly adapted for this exact behavior.

---

Marsala observed the situation, making note of everything going wrong for Alfredo and why. They were grateful Alfredo had at least managed to stay clung to Vhoth, but it wasn’t enough. If they had been less cautious, more willing to get in the way, they could have helped already.

It seems less hesitation will let me make my own openings.

With that thought in mind, Marsala began taking off their gloves as they watched the scene in front of them unfold. The gashes on the under belly, the nail lodged in its side, and the stone-horn being held down on both its front and back. All of their allies were taking the opportunities presented despite also getting in each other’s ways.

Less hesitation, right?

They began making their way forward as a gunshot rang out again and the stone-horn dropped its defensive storm. As sudden as its apparent defeat, the stone-horn began thrashing about.

Worry courses through Marsala first. Both for the fellow tossed about, and for the girl who was still within stomping range of the beast. The man likely has a couple heavily bruised, if not broken, ribs and the girl, quasit or not, would still be in trouble if the beast stepped on her. The second thing Marsala processes is that the beast is now missing an eye. The gunner had succeeded in hitting his mark and taking out the eye. And rats can fit anywhere that they can get their heads in.

Priorities and plan set, they hurry to the girl to try and get her to her feet, and out of the way of the beast. Or, well, I suppose feet isn’t the appropriate word here. Get her to her prosthesis? Marsala can check on the man once significant injury is avoidable.

While kneeling to help Penni, Marsala finds the ground covered in blood and catches sight of Cambrian slinking out from under the beast. The blood covering him, his only give away.

How can anyone stand to have so much blood and dirt on them?
Marsala is immediately aware of the blood now covering their pants, the blood and dirt now scattered across Penni, and their uncovered hands. They have to hold back a gag as they help Penni, once again grateful for their mask as they cannot keep the disgust off their face.

During this, Alfredo lets out a squeak towards Vhoth and pats the man’s arm before running towards the only proper opening on the stone-horn, its eye. Alfredo works to get his head inside the eye socket, wiggling and clawing his way far enough in to release the poison. And, hopefully, work to delay the beast’s reaction times.

The sooner it’s poisoned, the sooner we don’t have to worry about such a violent thrash again.

At first, Germ was satisfied with the results of his attack. Sure, it had sliced into his ally a bit, which was less than ideal, but Cambrian seemed relatively unbothered. So it was fine. Probably. Germ’s nose twitched with excitement, though he jumped at least a foot in the air at the nearby gunshot. Loud. Too loud. Most of this was too loud.

Then the rocks fell. Germ let out an excited chitter. He wanted to celebrate! The beast was nearly dead! Germ’s little rat fingers tapped together as he tried to focus. Those razor blades were in. All it was going to take was enough focus to move them around inside. Easy! Probably! Maybe! Germ uh… Germ had never exactly tried to eviscerate something’s insides before. That he remembered. He took a breath–

Then let out a rather pathetic squeal as the stonehorn started to thrash. There were crunches and thuds that made Germ sick to his stomach. He took a step back as he watched his team get battered. Brutalized. His ears pinned back. ”Sh-Shit!”

His observations were what made Germ notice the little rat crawling into the stonehorn’s eye. That was clever of it, and made it probably one of the least in-danger allies around. It also meant that Germ could not just ricochet metal around in that thing’s body without risking hitting it. His snout scrunched in frustration. Germ took a step back. Everything was happening so fast. He did not want to hurt MORE of his friends.-- Er. Were they even really friends? He did not know any of these people. REGARDLESS! He did not want to hurt them. Especially not a fellow rat who would not take a piece of metal to the gut as well as a humanoid could.

It took the overly anxious fellow a good second to regain himself. Once he had, though, a new thought came to mind. If he could not send the metal outward, Germ would send it inward. He spread his hands and fingers outward, then clapped them together and balled his hands into fists. His aim was to bring all of the metal shards together into a ball inside the beast. Sweat beaded on his brow as Germ held his breath. It took a lot of mental and physical exertion to even attempt such a task.

Once he was relatively certain it had worked, though it was hard to tell given he did not have x-ray vision, Germ dropped his hands. He let out a shaky breath and jumped backward out of the way. His gaze darted over to where that little rat’s owner was. Also unharmed. Good. Their other ally, though? Perhaps less so. Germ’s ears pinned back and he dashed on all fours toward the two, wanting to make sure they were okay.

Hmm… Cambrian closed his large eyes and laid there. He could smell the metal. Not the rusty metal being thrown around all over the place, no, the metal he was covered in. The red blood. The thing wasn’t dead yet, though…. And, well, it should be. Shakily, away from the thrashing and ruckus, he stood up and shook himself though. Stains of black marred the pretty crimson shade… hm. He was bleeding, too, apparently…. 

Okay. Okay. The squid had to weigh the pros and cons of continuing to engage. He sat there and let the chaos turn into a planning board in his mind… 

Pros first. He wanted to list the pros first. Let’s see… the pros of sliding back in there instead of tending to his wounds definitely included more blood and the likely death of this stupid lizard. Going back in there would definitely help him feel like he contributed more— but he already contributed a lot. He sliced the belly of the beast cleanly and allowed that strange rat person to shove a bunch of blades in there, and if the rat person were smart, he’d already be tearing the organs of that stonehorn apart. He couldn’t guarantee how smart the rat person was, after watching the actual little rat crawl into the fucking eye socket of this beast and after being cut up himself from the onslaught. Cambrian… didn’t mind being cut up, of course, but still. A pro included removing chance and not having to trust others. 

The cons, of course, included him getting more injured from friendly fire or confusion. Or a gunshot. The cons included him maybe bleeding out, or getting torn up too badly to quickly heal. The cons included fucking death, and he wasn’t that much of a dumbass to accept death! So maybe he should let the others finish off that unfortunate creature… and he could heal them, if they needed it.

It was settled, then. Cambrian wormed his way into a tight space and relaxed, and then put his hands to work. It was a bit hard to see with the red blood, but he could wipe it away to see the gashes. Rending flesh was fun, but grabbing it and forcing it to connect to itself and stick back together was time consuming to say the least. Maybe just for him, though… after all, he rarely did this, and it was hard to concentrate when he was covered in bliss— in blood. The metal stench made him dizzy as he licked his lips, but he managed to stop himself from adding to the disgusting puddle. Finally, he could pop back up and watch the next few steps of this scenario unfold.

Erin barely had time to process she was being reeled up like a prize bass before breaking the surface. They had been been a child since the last time they'd been lifted up. She'd been a little pup then, and it was unlikely they'd even be able to remember the instance if it was the only thing to focus on at the moment, as is it was so far down the list of priorities right now. Certainly, it had surely been with much more care and grace then the current flailing.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK HOW GODAMN STRONG IS THIS SON OF A BITCH?!? How is it slinging me around so fast? I'm already getting motion sickness. Please stop spinning you stupid creature I cant let go. You cant fling me off, by god I wish you could. I dont want to be holding on either now. The form of one of the others that had come with her to bring down the beast had barely been noticed before they had made impact. Shit its not trying to get me off, its using me as tail flail upgrade. Oh god I hope he's ok. I cant even see where he even fucking went. Please don't be dead over there, wherever you are. I'm sorry I was trying to make this tail less of a problem. Didn't know I was going to be making it forces of magnitude worse. I didn't even catch your name or anything about you. Can you take an impact force like that? I promise as soon as I can I'll make that up to you.

Finally the beast's centripetal journey came to a quick halt. Vomit was trapped in her throat with the parthenon-ic column of a tail her jaws were seemingly hydraulic sealed down on. oh thank shit that's over. Now what? Diving down to rebury the tail has just been shown to be worthless. I can't drag the beast anywhere else, its far too strong and heavy. Most certainly, I can't unclench my damned jaw. This tail isn't coming out of my mouth and I don't have the time to gnaw my way through the whole thing. Only one last option, time to take my pound of flesh. Rip asunder a manageable enough chunk I can swallow and be loose.

With that they dropped, using their weight to begin death rolling. A violent, valiant effort quickly stopped due to the obvious problem of the tail being fully perpendicular to the wasteman. The positioning made the angles of rotation extremely limited. I'm gonna have to come at this from a different approach. Maybe just simple straight-back? Putting her hands on either side of her snout and began thrashing her head in every witch way. The grunts, growls, and muffled swears poured out fluid and subconsciously.

A momentary glance showed Erin they had stopped quite close to a little horned gal. An up-down showed she had some knives. Maybe she could help carve me off. They gave some rushed gestures to her and a likely garbled, "Hey can you cut me loose?" between thrashes.