AWKWARD ZOMBIE

Allen dropped is spear and helmet, they were weighing him down and he needed to at least fool the other guards that he was in full chase, they wouldn't follow, they didn't care, they were here to aid the corruption. Allen's attempt at justice was a failure. But this was his chance at redemption. He ran to the building the man shot up. luckily, it was being painted, and there were ladders to the top, rung after rung, Tanner climbed, when he reached the top, he caught a flash of flame in the alley across. He jumped onto a bit of scaffolding and met with the strange man. Shortly after, another person joined thier group.

Forté heard it. Screams. The looked at the small device that tracked Mrow's temporal artifacts, the objects he brought with him through time. It is true that one was in this very casino and he hoped that it was Lieutenant Damsel Simmons, but that Irish owner might be telling the truth after all. Maybe Mrow did bring something else with him. It would make sense because this area and time has been visited the most, according to his 'recent destinations'. There was no time to contemplate that now! He had to save those screaming people!

Hours in the future, but not many...

"I take it you know this girl?" asked the bizarre automaton.

"Yes. Her name is Lieutenant Damsel Simmons, a colleague of mine," the green and gold gladiator suddenly spotted the purple-clad perpetrator heading for a nearby cave. The signpost read 'Whisperwind'. Forté decided to take note of that, as well as the time on the giant clock tower high above the city. It was 12:45. It never hurts to know your surroundings! He took off towards this 'Whisperwind Cave' in hot pursuit of his parallel-coloured nemesis.

"I will be back for her shortly!" he called back to the strange metal woman.

Just as soon as he had blasted off, he had returned. This time, to the confusion of the metal girl, he came running from the city rather than the direction of the caves he had just flew off in. "I'm back for her... shortly," he panted and sat down on the grass to catch his breath.

Zephiur grinned and was about to disappear as planned when a third, unknown man appeared in their midst. He dropped the expression like a bad habit and pointed at the man. "Who are you?" he asked, letting his arm come back to his side. He didn't bargain for a spectator; his misdirection relied on Allen being the only one who knew about the true nature of his escape. "daisies it all." he thought, but he decided to give this new man a chance. He still drew his guns out of caution, however, and clicked the hammers back.

[~Sax I'm enjoying your posts. CAPTAIN FORTE is giving off a very Knight of Time-ish aura here]

It was mid-day. The sun shone far too brightly above the Dead Lands, it's piercing heat making even plant and insect life next to impossible. Not even the wind dared blow through the arid wasteland. One might be lucky enough to find shade in one of the Dead Lands canyons or crevices, but not at mid-day. Shadows didn't exist in the Dead Lands at mid-day.

Except today.

High above the scorching emptiness that was the Dead Lands, the sky darkened unnaturally. A small, circular blackness formed in the sky, which grew quickly. It soon expanded to the point that it would've easily shaded a small town, had there been one. It loomed, silent and foreboding, for a few minutes before a ripple shot outward across it's mass from the center. A small sound came from the darkness, not unlike the sound of a man spitting tobacco, and a person shot forth from it's center, straight into one of the many canyons littering the Dead Lands. As the dust surrounding the resulting crater began to settle, the darkness simply faded and disappeared.

"DAMMIT, that hurt." Roil said aloud as he sat up in the center of the crater he had just created, rubbing his head and stretching his back. "What the HELL happened?"

He stood, shakily, and dusted off his jacket and pants. Immediately, he felt out of place. Humidity was a constant where he came from, and the dry, hot air he now felt was foreign to him. Foreign and irritating. The sun wasn't supposed to beat down like this, it was supposed to keep it's daisies distance and let him be.
There were no trees or the wispy sound that came from the leaves in the wind. No grass, or the dew that the ever-present mist along the ground created. He couldn't even see mountains from where he was. Where the hell was he? This place was stupid and he hated it.

Roil muttered curses under his breath and reached out toward the bullhorn that had fallen from his belt, which warped directly into his hand. A bead of sweat rolled down his face as he began trudging toward the edge of the crevice he had landed in.

Martin grabbed his hatchet. "My names Martin. We met yesterday, or I at least met you. I noticed that soldier running after you and wanted to know what you did to grab his attention." He looked at the soldier. "I"m guessing this guy is just giving you trouble."

Zephiur squinted and nodded. "Ahh, I remember now." he said. "You're the one who visited my shop the other day." He pulled the triggers on his guns, each one making a click sound as the hammer shot back into place; they wouldn't fire unless Zephiur gave them some Fire. He stuck the guns into their holsters and folded his arms, looking at Allen and nodding. "Yeah, we're trying to bust my dad out of prison." he explained. "And apparently if he lets me 'get away' then the military sticks him on prison watch." He drummed his mechanical fingers on his other arm. "If you want to help, I'll need some assistance; otherwise just turn around and forget you saw us." His tone for the second half of that sentence was in warning, he would have to "take care of things" if the plan was leaked.

Zephiur heard another guard yelling about something; he was close to their current position. Zeph looked at the newcomer with urgency. "Well? You in or out? I gotta get going or else the whole plan is a bust." he says, already detaching his hand from its socket and sticking it in his satchel before pulling out a claw-looking instrument with an indeterminate length of industrial wire attached to it: a grappling hook. Zephiur wound the wire around the circular indentation in his arm socket before latching the claw into the socket itself with a satisfying click. He opened and closed the claw a few times to make sure he had control before tapping a few times on the panel to enable the attachment launch.

The brave Captain ran toward the sound of the screaming, hoping to confront what it was before it was too late. By the time he got there, however, he was met with a grizzly sight. Bodies were everywhere, but no sign of any kind of suspect. It seemed that no guards, nor their bodies, were present. He looked around, and decided to examine the crime scene for clues.

Hours in the future, but somehow in his past...

Forté approached the entrance to the cave, ready to face his now cornered foe, or whatever else might be waiting for him inside...

Eris glanced around the room at the assortment of tables and people. The outer part of the casino was just for the common folk, this inner area is where fortunes were made and lost on a daily basis. The chips weren't made of plastic, but solid gemstone and precious metals. Trying to haul in this much in cash would require legions of servants. On every table and roulette was cheddar enough to feed a small town for years. Eris was no good at gambling, but he was very good at making his opponents think otherwise with judicious use of his power. Maybe later he'd be able to build up his own finances a little more. But he was on business.

He continued through the room, aiming for a set of large, crimson double doors. Armed guards were staffed outside, but they nodded and let him pass when they saw the medallion. It wasn't required to enter the VIP area, but it was in order to not be challenged at this final gateway. He stepped through and closed the door.

The room was massive, filled with statuary carved from solid gold or gems. Here an elf, there a knight fighting a dragon, and in the very center of the room was a colossal, regal figure wearing a spiked crown. He held no weapon and wore no armor, instead his hands were palm up and held out, as if assuring the viewer of his gentleness. His face however, had been cut off neatly, leaving a smooth slab in its place. Eris smirked inwardly at the depiction of his ancestor.

At the far end of the room was a desk of fine, dark wood with a door on the wall behind it. Eris took a seat and waited. It wouldn't be long now.

Some distance to the southeast from the southern coast a lone island stood, little more than a rocky crag jutting from the foamy depths that surrounded it. Atop this barren outcropping stood a tower; tall, stony, unadorned, a single spire intruding upon the otherwise unbroken horizon. Its sturdy base revealed no entry and few windows or notable openings of any kind marred its curved surface save at its peak. There sat an open, airy chamber - roofed and partially walled, as though ordinary-sized windows had decided to simply expand and displace the stone surrounding them.

It was to this chamber that an albatross of impressive span ascended, riding the updrafts along the tower swiftly around it and alighting on the sill of an oversized window. It didn't bother searching for a meal or shelter; it was expected, it knew, as the chamber's sole occupant turned to face it. "South-southwest at twenty-three knots, sir." it recited in precise tones, having learned some time ago that it needn't shout anymore. Negating much of the noise from the wind and surf entering the chamber was a thoughtful if solely practical addition by the winged mage. He was little inclined for conversation but at least it made delivering reports easier.

"Mm." Pellendro nodded slightly in acknowledgement, turning aside from the book he had been studying to an expansive map on the table nearby and recording appropriate notes. The latest round of experiments had proved uneventful for some time; which, in his view, was the best result possible. It meant the effects of his abilities were finally achieving stability. They could be utilized with little, if any, deviation. The painstaking efforts he had made in the past two years to ensure this was, he was convinced, what separated him from the dottering old wizards who only knew books and traditions, too afraid of what they possessed to understand precisely what changes they wrought upon the world when they used their magic.

Pellendro knew better now. Power without understanding could only lead to lack of control, to chaos. It was, at last, time to renew the search. He scratched beneath his blindfold almost out of habit. Only a little longer and true sight would be his once more.

"You look as though you've reached a decision, sir." came the voice behind him, a hint of nervousness finding its way into its inflection. It wasn't surprising. The bird had proven a loyal assistant. "I have, Amos. I will depart soon. I know, at least, where I must begin my search. Other answers will come. I trust you remember what I asked of you while I am gone."

"I remember. I will do what I can. Good luck, sir." Amos hesitated a moment as though debating whether to say more before turning away and disappearing from the ledge.

Pellendro returned to his desk to ready the possessions he would carry with him, few as they were: a small knapsack adorned with rune borders slung over the shoulder; the book he had been reviewing, now closed and easily slipped into the sack; and his cane. He stood at the ledge and stretched his wings easily, readying them for extended use, before dropping along the sheer wall towards the ocean below. The wind rose to meet him, aiding his flight as he gained altitude and set out towards his destination: Hilcover, the center of what was once Trejin.

The Dead Lands.

[Roger made his way home in an incredibly boring fashion and will rejoin the adventure before long.]

Martin noticed the shouting becoming louder. "Fine. I'll help, I'm sure your father didn't do anything wrong." Martin thought for a second. "And you seem like a nice guy. Plus you can help me with something later."

Tanner shoved the scaffolding aside, revealing a large colvert. Hurry up, get in!

The guard walked through the alley, Oi, d'ju 'ea somefin' an' 'ow 'bout 'dat t'errist, eh?

Nope, lost 'em, I'll have to tell the captain

Na, you'll 'ave to take it up wit 'e Major, Cap'ns ou' a town He had a near toothless grin.

Alright. fine lets get it over with.

Allen took a quick look over his shoulder, feigning interest in the Clock.

"I'm stuck in a rut," Galiena admitted sourly, glancing at Jade again. "This place is--"
A soldier of sorts appeared and exchanged words with Zephiur, who excused himself. Galiena watched him leave and stood up with a slight frown. "...well, that was disappointing," she remarked. Her eyes drifted down to the table as the people who had been trying to watch the game dispersed. "He left his cheddar behind," she observed. The woman bit her lip. She could just slip it into her pockets and move on. Nobody here would notice or even care--and if that character came back, she would just give him back the cheddar. Maybe.
"Whatever," she sighed. She slipped the cheddar into her vest pocket and looked at Jade. "That cribbage tournament was my last scheduled run for the day. You want to head out?"

"Yeah, sure. I just gotta be somewhere by one," Jade answered, then took a swig of his glass bottle. "Important business in the cave outside of town. Pretty sure that's just the dead drop." It felt a tad thrilling, honestly, talking like he was still in his old bad business...but this was different. "You gonna stay in that uniform?" he asked casually.