AWKWARD ZOMBIE

"Not all of them are in there, or even this city. This is an ancient group dating back to the First War, do you really think they'd all hole up in the exact same location?" Eris shook his head. "And I'm not talking about the people, unfortunate though they may be, but the papers. He burned them all to prevent anyone from finding the rest of the group."

Eris sighed. "Although I am wondering why, if you feel so strongly about this and you have the powers to do so, you're not trying to save anyone in there. A normal mortal would have no chance in those flames, but you're freezing like this is your first time seeing someone die."

Galiena didn't have an answer for the man's observation. How would she be fit to save anyone from the flames? She was too scared to move, even now. Completely useless.
"I..." she swallowed, staring at the ground. "I've...seen others die before," she said hesitantly.
But never like this. What a horrible way to go.
She could have still been in there, too. Trapped in the flames, the searing heat and the choking smoke. Galiena shivered and folded her arms tightly, refusing to look up from the ground.


[[Angie went to bed and I'm going to bed soon too]]

Well. At least the books hadn't been completely inaccurate. The Dead Lands were as barren, desolate, and oppressive as every source Pellendro had seen had led him to believe. He managed to locate the rough location indicated as the site of Hilcover and descended, assaulted immediately upon landing by the stench and heat of the place. This wouldn't do at all - discomfort aside, the idea of allowing the wretched odor to permeate his garments was simply intolerable.

Half-releasing a breath, he wove a short series of well-remembered motions with his hands. This, fortunately, was among the simpler and more useful of the many incantations he learned - or half-learned - during his brief stay at the academy. "Expel heat" came the command word, immediately resulting in a more comfortable personal environment. The brief period of focus and an utterance in a much older tongue granted a tiny wall of wind surrounding him that would be sufficient to repel the offending odor from his nose and clothing.

That was better. He was already beginning to doubt the validity of his first lead, but at least now he could work. He began walking towards what seemed to be a set of desecrated remains.

The Odd King had zipped out of existence once more. Hel was having such a strange day. For the sake of the girl, she finally headed into Mekanos proper, through the north gate.

WANG

Someone had decided the best introduction to the city was a rock to the noggin. She couldn't be bothered to find the culprit though, for obvious reasons. Anyway, after a short search she found a clinic that would take the girl. She absentmindedly walked her way over to the courtyard of the clocktower. She was at a bit of a loss where to go next.

Then she noticed the smoke. She followed the smoke to it's source and discovered what appeared to be a casino, covered in flames, with people trickling out. She spied a man in PANK whom she immediately did not trust. Perhaps it was the traumatized looking girl beside him.

[This thread moves way too fast]

Zephiur had scaled the cliff face and emerged to a somewhat surprising sight. "Rawling?" he thought. "But that must mean I'm further west than I had anticipated." He swore to himself and shook his head, then detached the grappling hook from his arm, pulling out his mechanical hand and locking it back into place. He clenched a fist a few times to ensure it was working properly and then headed into the enormous city, Trejin's capital.

It looked a lot more urban than the clockwork city of Mekanos, but it was also less advanced: it was very crowded and the residential districts were full of ragged flats and crumbling apartments. It was a wonder the place hasn't crumbled to the ground. But Zephiur knew the secret to Rawling's success lied in its businesses and more than a bit of magic. It was also known for its ungodly humid weather, and before long Zephiur would have to take refuge in one of the dusty abodes. Zephiur sighed; he wouldn't be able to make it to the rendezvous at this rate. He pulled down his goggles and started typing out a message for Allen on his arm panel:


After committing the text, the cashbox drawer in his arm jutted out again, and he pulled out a metal cylinder that housed the scroll on which his written text was printed. Zephiur browsed through the Mekanos registry until he found Allen's name, and sync'd the cylinder's internal guidance system with his home address. It would be risky, but hopefully Allen would be around to find the message and not any others. Zephiur pressed a button on the cylinder's top and a miniature rotor blade emerged from the other side; it was now a helicopter-like contraption, and would guide itself to the Mekanosian post office and then file itself through the mailing system to the recipient's address. It was a rather ingenious system, Zephiur admitted to himself. However, as he started back down the street, his mechanical arm sparked and Zephiur grimaced in pain. "Dammit," he thought, "Need to find a shelter.." He looked around, and spotted a particularly battered apartment. "It'll do." he breathed to himself, clutching his mechanical arm even though it did nothing to ease the sparking pains. He entered the structure and slammed into the wall, sliding to a sitting position as he prepared for what he would do next.

Zephiur released the hydraulic pins that sealed the mechanics to his body, and tried to hold back a yell in vain. No matter how many times he had done it, the pain of the pins pulling out of his body was too much to bear. After the needles retracted into the metal, he slid the arm off, still shuddering from the sheer searing pain, and laid it down on the floor. He reached over and felt the rough, scarred skin gingerly; the indentations in his shoulder from the hydraulic pins weren't even bleeding, even though his entire right half looked like someone took an axe to his arm. There was no bone, only flesh, and there were more, smaller indentations in a circular pattern in this area of his body; they were from the neural needles that connected his mechanical arm to the functions of his brain. This was why it always hurt so badly when he had to remove the arm. "I probably woke someone up with my yelling.." he thought, but there was no point in being shameful of what had to be done. He got up and put the metal limb on a shelf higher up, and even more out of contact of the outside humidity. Zephiur slid out of his duster and hung it over the back of a three-legged chair, cracking his neck and pulling off his shirt as well; the humidity made the heat that much more unbearable and staying in those heavy clothes would have been tantamount to suicide. He pulled out a strip of cloth from his satchel and tied it around his forehead as a sweatband, but he knew it wouldn't last for long. He went back and sat against the wall, leaning back and closing his eyes.

Viktor arched a brow at the boy. "Just grandparents?" he asked. He knew what it was like to lose family; Zephiur was the only one he had left. He scratched his chin just under the wispy goatee and nodded sympathetically. "Well, if you ever get out of here make sure you let them know you're okay." he turned and went back to sit down on his bench, quieter than usual.

[~Yes I'm double posting because two characters]

[I might need to redraw my map.]

"GALLOPING GIGAWATTS!" exclaimed Forté. He had warped again, this time without any input from himself. He looked at the device. A red button had been blinking during his last few warps, so he took this opportunity to press it. Instantly, the wrist-mounted device opened up to reveal 4 charred fuses. "Curses! It seems I've overloaded it! How could I have overlooked this?!" moaned Forté. He looked at his surroundings. It looked like he was in the back room of a grocery store. Sighing, he took out his tin of SPACE SHORTBREAD and opened it. He grabbed a piece, closed the tin and set it down on a table next to where the day's garbage lay in bags. He loved SPACE SHORTBREAD! It just melted in your mouth! Someone without teeth could even eat the stuff! It always cheered him up. He was about to remove his helmet to eat when he heard a beeping noise. Of course! The temporal artifact locator! If it could pick up himself and the ink on the note he left, it would surely pick up Lieutenant Simmons! According to the numbers in the previous destinations, this is around the same time he went back before, and in the same city, no doubt! Forgetting all about his tin of delicious SPACE SHORTBREAD he bolted from the back room and ran out into the streets. The blip on the radar was telling him to go towards a nearby casino...

AT THE PRESENT TIME EXACTLY...

Several men sit around a Cribbage table near the rear of the casino. One is complaining about his unclaimed points. Another fellow with an unfortunate missing limb is conversing with another unfortunate-looking soldier that looks like he doesn't quite belong with the others. A forgetful fellow with the name of a woman is talking with his 'female friend'. In his pocket is a note that he thought he wrote himself, but will instead add even more layers to this time-travelling mess.

A man, if you could call him that, is plotting to slaughter innocents in the name of his noble lost people. He will leave no trace for a hero to find.

That same hero is running through the streets towards a casino attempting to find his friend as he is simultaneously running in the opposite direction to retrieve his colleague, whom he had promised to come back for. This will eventually result in him running through the streets towards a casino attempting to find his friend, as he is already doing. Unfortunately, he will not get a chance to enjoy his SPACE SHORTBREAD, but that's okay since he didn't have a chance to enjoy it already.

A most unfortunate female dressed as a male wakes up in her cold shelter, hoping to find something delicious of her own. Silly androgynous mutant, you don't eat SPACE SHORTBREAD with a hammer!

"I haven't seen them in awhile. I'm actually an explorer, I usually spend my time in the wilderness." Martin sighed. "I won't be able to come back for awhile." They talked for a few hours about different things, mostly stories about they're old lives. During a story about a young Zephiur Victor noticed Martin playing with a tiny stone sphere. Victor asked him where he got it. "It's my power." Martin answered. "I can create different objects out of different materials." Martin showed the old man how he did it and created various 3 dimensional objects. "I only use it when I'm either bored or when the situation needs it, but that almost never happens."

[Captain Forté is best character]

Unfortunately, or perhaps in this case, fortunately, the other person had experienced death second hand before.
"Rrgh," the elf huffed, "Fine!" She marched up to the doors, and grabbed the handle. Needless to say, it was hot, like she should have expected. She pulled on the door, becoming frustrated when it wouldn't budge.
"daisies! It must be locked or something--" She took her hands away from the door. She closed her eyes and hunched over a little, and her limbs started to extend, as the noise of cracking bones heralded some kind of transformation. Her hair shortened and darkened to black, and her shoulders, chest, and waist broadened. Soon, what was standing at the door was no longer an elf, but a muscular man with wild black hair and long sharp nails.

A pair of fuzzy brown arms gripped at the door handle. He growled as fur started to overtake his arms, crawling up towards the rest of his body. He made another feral noise, ripping the door clean off the hinges, and smoke started to pour out of the opened way. He did the same with the second door, once the second transformation was complete. A weredog. His eyes watered and he could feel the smoke choking him up, but he did notice a few people near the door. Unceremoniously grabbing the backs of their shirts, or their legs--whatever he could get to first, he rounded up a few people, pushing them out the door. He dove in as several disoriented, singed individuals got out without his assistance.

Zephiur had fallen asleep against the wall, but jolted awake at the sounds of something crashing around. He slipped his undershirt on and summoned a ball of contained fire to light the way. Suddenly the room was covered with flickering shadows and on the edge of the globe of light he could see what looked like a person running away. "Hey!" he shouted. Maybe they could help him get his bearings? No, they were already running away. He sighed and took a long look at his mechanical arm. Nobody was around, he's sure it would be safe here for a while. Zephiur shook his head and leapt out of one of the holes in the structure before dashing off after the figure. "Hey! I'm not a threat!" he shouted, trying to ease the person's mind, but in retrospect it probably wasn't the wisest thing to say. After a few minutes of running it was apparent this person was already long gone, so Zephiur stopped and knelt down to catch his breath. "Today just isn't my day." he said, getting up and stretching. He took one last look around and sighed before turning towards where he came from and letting loose a jet burst from his boots, propelling him through the air forward. He flipped once to slow his acceleration and landed into the ground, rolling a few times to stabilize the impact. After coming to his feet, Zephiur dusted himself off and climbed back into the abandoned apartment, resuming his place on the wall.

"Actually," Zephiur thought, "I should probably get going while it's cool. Maybe I can find a less moist climate before dawn breaks." he cracked his neck both ways and walked over to the shelf where he placed his mechanical arm, and took it up. He decided he really wouldn't have use of it going across the barren landscapes of Trejin, so he strapped it across his back with his satchel and shouldered on the duster, fastening it at the top so it wouldn't fall off as he walked. After suitably preparing, Zephiur climbed back out of the apartment and walked off in the direction the figure headed. If he could find them, then he could get his bearings, otherwise it was a test of luck.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Viktor arched a brow. "So you're an Eterni?" he asked, tone stabilizing from the seemingly crackpot old man into one of tired, faded dignity and respect. "My son's an Eterni too, but I don't know how it happened. Neither me nor my wife were such." Viktor was obviously mistaking Eterni power as an inherited trait, but he was oblivious to this fact.

[Even better when you read his lines as DAN GREEN.]

Forté entered the casino. He had tracked the temporal artifact here and it looked as though it was coming from the back of the building. Captain Forté hailed the casino owner and attempted to ask if he had seen the woman. He had an odd matter about him. Maybe he was lying, or maybe he was just Irish. We may never know.

Moments in the future, yet in his past...

Captain Forté ran towards the Whisperwind Cave in hot pursuit of his foe. To his surprise, there was somebody else there! Two people, a man and woman, were standing just inside the cave. Eloh Mrow was drawing his blaster!

"Citizens! Get out of the way!" Forté yelled at them, but they did not move. Instead they took fighting stances and appeared to be readying themselves for combat. Forté sighed, "I'm definitely going to have a piece of my SPACE SHORTBREAD after this headache!" He rocketed toward the cave, hopefully getting there before Mrow could hurt those two.

Moments in the past, yet in his future...

Forté noticed a large amount of guards moving in the direction of the casino... and was that smoke? Thinking that Simmons might be in trouble, he began to run back. Against his previous judgment, he started his jet pack again. Overuse combined with the beating sun was not good for it, but he had no time to lose! He took off and approached the casino once again. He landed unnoticed on the roof of an adjacent building and observed the scene below. The building was on fire! This was horrible! Once again, he was too late! He cursed himself and looked again to the tracking device, hoping Simmons was at least okay.

Two blips? one right below him? He looked down and saw none other than Jade being swept away by the crowd! Of course! Jade had the note on his person! It was giving off the signal from the casino! The other blip seemed to come from a bit further, in the direction of a hospital. The metal girl must have brought her there! Good to know that she's safe! He looked below again at a familiar figure just standing there. Galiena! Why was she just standing there? She was present when you met Jade at the cave... she needed to get going!
"Galiena! Go with Jade! Now! It's not safe here!" he shouted down at her, but she just stood there. She must be too afraid to move!

There is no time to worry about that silly girl and the flow of time! Lives were at stake here! Now was the time for action! He brandished his épée and dove from the roof towards the blaze in a dramatic fashion shouting, "EVIL BEWARE, FOR I AM CAPTAIN FORTÈ!"

[~Sax that's actually starting to hurt my head, when will Craptain Falcon Forte join us in an actual timeline?]


[~I'm not telling you to stop, but it might get a bit tiring after a while. By all means continue the 20s sci-fi schtick though]

[sax i am going to assume that CAPTAIN FORTE (fuck it i can't symbols) is in the casino now]

The weredog swore he heard a yell in from outside and almost immediately shoved a half-conscious young man into his arms from right outside the door. "Are you here to help?" he growled, not waiting for an answer. He picked up another person, narrowly saving them from the blaze, and swung her over his shoulder. "Good." It was getting unbearably hot, and he opened his mouth to pant out of habit in this form, but he sucked in smoke, forcing him to close his mouth and eyes.. The smells and smoke and noise were getting to be too much for his senses--he needed to get out. It would be no good if he ended up dying himself. The weredog kept a hand on the patron he had swung over his shoulder, and hurried out of the door, blinking his stinging, watery eyes and taking choked breaths.

[I assume he called out while you were inside. Otherwise he probably would have noticed a GIANT HAIR MONSTER OH NOES.]

[I have the rest planned out. Once he meets Jade and Galiena at the cave I'll be able to finish off the time travel stuff.]

[There should just be a Captain Forté thread]
[Also Sol can you change Garrett's alignment to neutral]

Garrett, still drunk, wandered the streets of Mekanos. Passersby gave him odd looks, because while his voice was very nice, nobody could understand his lyrics. The city's guards only noticed Garrett when he started to scale the statue of one of the city's founders, still singing his incoherent lyrics.
With some difficulty, the guards had managed to get Garrett down from the statue, and had to use three of their men to hold him down.
"What'cha doin'? *HIC!*"
"Sir, I am afraid we will have to take you into custody until you are sober enough to think rationally."
"No thanks!" With this, Garrett quickly overpowered the three guards, knocking them to the ground, one unconscious.
"Git 'im!"

Garrett had managed to give the guards a good chase, knocking seven of them out in the process, but he ran into a dead end.
"Sir, you are under arrest."