Gale did not expect it to be raining. Weather proceeds as usual, apparently, even if life does not. Through the wet smack of raindrops, he can barely hear the sea breathing a few blocks away. The dust from the millions of bodies, trees, plants, and animals seeded the clouds and dragged down moisture from the sea. The precipitation has turned the
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He stops moving long enough to assess the state of the 'noise' that Argilla mentioned. "Yes, I do remember your report. It makes sense that the sun should have a continued influence on the Atma."
The strategist continues following his comrade, ducking his head to avoid low pipes and support beams that Argilla passes beneath more easily. "The silence is welcome, though. The Atma have been rebellious enough." Such that even the idea of transforming fills him with gnawing anxiety; his command over the demon has been so limited, resulting in so many dangerous mishaps. Not being in control? It's about the worst fate a man like Gale can imagine.
In between watching and listening closely for signs of danger, it occurs to him that using the Atma in this situation could become very dangerous very quickly. Especially since since he has an ally to look out for. He can't just let Vayu go -- proverbial guns blazing -- into a struggle.
It's probably a good idea to see how Argilla's handling recent Atma issues: "How have you been feeling lately?"
(( Sorry for the lag; crazy week. ))
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"Agreed; it can stay silent as long as we're here. We don't need any more complications then what we already have." Argilla pauses in front of an underground fork as she says that. For a moment she doesn't move forward, just shifting her weight from one foot to another as she tries to mentally pick her way ahead. In just a few more seconds, she starts moving ahead again, turning down through the closest tunnel.
The pause also gives her some time to mull over Gale's question, and how to answer. "I...would like to say that I've been well enough. But sometimes, strange things happen. I've been waking up at night with my skin crawling, and..." The hand that isn't tracing her way along the wall goes up to her chest.
"And there's something...Off about my Atma. I've been looking at it lately, and there's been something wrong with my skin around it. I used to think it was a rash or just from not eating properly, but now..."
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What he can see of the underground is beginning to remind him a lot of Old Portland, albeit much more claustrophobic. The PINpoint vibrations are gradually picking up; still on the right track, obviously.
"Hunger is near-constant for me now. I do what I can to satisfy it, but the Atma is never sated like it used to be. Whether or not this is because I choose not to hunt the prey it most craves . . . I have no idea."
He sighs quietly before adding: "The Vorapate has also been rendered useless." That's been his biggest defeat; he had so much hope invested in that as a final "cure" (short of extracting the Atma completely.)
Argilla might notice the strategist beginning to fall behind. Right now, he's crouched over a scattered pile of . . . huh. Bones. Well, that doesn't tell him much, other than the Tuners obviously got well past that initial barricade and had the leisure time to clean up kills without greedily devouring bones and all. Further along are the victims' discarded weapons. The metal is melted in places, and by all appearances, and in several cases, rounds exploded in the barrel. Fire elemental, probably.
Gale tosses one of the guns back to the ground with a clatter. "Survivors are beginning to look very unlikely."
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Whatever else she plans on saying is interrupted by something flaring up in her mind's eye; it's notable enough that she stops focusing and opens her eyes, turning back to her comrade. "Gale, there's something ahead...A wide area, at least larger then the tunnel we're in right now." Although whether or not it's in better shape is debatable. She can feel some of the mortar, crumble under her fingers as she moves her hand.
Her eyes do pause on the bones, and the guns; the bits and pieces of old stone doting the floor don't make what she sees any better. "We...We should hurry, in either case." Is all she says, before turning around and rushing forward. Argilla doesn't even pause to focus now; she has a clear enough memory of where they have to go. There's another barricade at the end of the tunnel...Or what used to be one. It's a bit hard to tell with how much of it is burned and torn apart. The same can be said of the gate just behind it; the metal is twisted, bent, and some of the bars are simply ripped out. The entire mess sags on it's hinges.
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While Gale doesn't have the most vivid of imaginations, he's at least got a knack for reenacting battle situations, and this looked like a messy one. Hungry Tuners make short work of any obstacle, and this flimsy barricade was no exception. It was hard enough defending against "normal", relatively well-fed Tuners in the Junkyard, and the operation here looks like it was much smaller than the Lokapala in terms of man and firepower. They had hydraulic, steel gates and . . . these people . . . well, the sagging gate speaks for itself.
Beyond said gate are the remnants of their refuge. It shows signs of being more of a living space; an attempt was made at making it comfortable. There are photos and posters tacked to the wall (although half of them were ripped down in the struggle.) There are cushions. Tupperware containers full of mixed belongings and non-perishable food.
Gale tries to un-see the children's toys peeking out of one particular box. He almost looks away a little too fast, like he was slapped across the face. His eyes cast around for something a little more . . . safe to look at.
There are loose leafs of paper scattered across the floor, and Gale scoops up a handful and begins flicking through, trying to piece together the story of this place . . . as much as he almost doesn't want to know.
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Argilla's eyes dart around as she looks at the walls, wondering if those dark stains on the far sides are from moisture, or from something less pleasant. She tries to keep her mouth shut, and to keep from raising her voice...At least for a moment. But something about the place their in, and how lifeless it is, makes her want to fill the gap.
"A-attention!" This doesn't keep her from inwardly wincing when she hears her voice yelling. "We want you to show yourselves! We're here to..."
There's a chocking sound in the back of her throat when she past Gale, and sees the old toys. When she speaks again there's no way to get back her original volume, or conviction. "...To help."
When she doesn't get a response, she finds herself looking back at Gale, and what's in his hand.
"...What does it say?"
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"There were about seventy originally . . . a mix of ages, genders." He keeps skimming, pausing occasionally to read a whole sheet of scrawled handwriting. "There was in-fighting over resources . . . poor leadership . . . that reduced their numbers as well as others slowly succumbing to the Cuvier syndrome. Scouts that went to the surface to seek out food and resources were regularly picked off by rogue Tuners."
He left off mention of the severe nutritional deficiencies that slowly weakened and killed some of the younger children. The suicides. Clearly whoever wrote this account had a Gale-like knack for detached objectivity, or at least a journalist's value for accurate, to the letter documentation.
Gale bends to place the papers on top of one of the storage crates, but reconsiders, instead folding them up neatly and tucking them into a coat pocket. That history shouldn't be left to die here.
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"So, we were too late...And there's no purpose or reason for us to be here..." She trails off as a growl creeps into her voice, and the sniper forces herself to take a deep breath. Forcing her anger back down takes as much effort as swallowing something unappetizing, but she doesn't like the alternative. The Atma is already starting to stir in the back of her mind, and she doesn't want to give it anymore fuel.
"How much further to the portal?" Her voice comes out raspy, and she finds herself rubbing at her collarbone as she asks.
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He finally rests his hand on one of the brick walls. "On the other side," he says simply . . .
. . . punctuated by a thunderous, muffled sound that swings the hanging lamps wildly, making shadows lurch. Chunks of mortar rain from the ceiling, joined by misty dust.
Then a pause.
And another boom. This time, the sound is crisp as debris falls in one of the adjacent rooms. Among the clatter of dull cement, there are glassy clinks as the skylights they noticed imbedded in the surface hit the floor of the underground. A triumphant screech echoes through the tunnels; the ravenous Tuner's capacity for human speech has long since gone by the wayside.
Gale pockets his PINpoint so he can grip and aim his gun with both hands, training it on the dilapidated barricade. He can feel his pulse pounding hot in the mark on his calf. A voice in his head screams to transform now; this is his chance to get in a good meal, and why don't you avenge those poor, trapped people while you're at it, Gale? It's karma at work.
He quashes that demanding voice for now, and simply waits, his palms growing slick and sweaty against his handgun.
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She can definitely feel something moving through the tunnels. Hard to tell what it is, or if there's more then one of it. But she does get the impression of something darting around, not quite able to make up it's mind if it wants to stalk or just rush in, judging by the foot falls.
"...If you want to fight us that badly, then hurry up you son of a-" WUMPH.
That would be the sound of more of the ceiling falling down. To her credit, Argilla doesn't even flinch as more bits of ceiling break loose around them; it's her element, after all. And for a moment, she feels the temptation to use it against whatever is coming after them. Collapsing the tunnels on the freaks inside of them would be immensely satisfying, and fair payback for the people trapped down here-
Argilla swallows as she thinks that, and tries to make her mark and skin both stop burning; the second she started thinking about fighting, they got much worse. Her head also joins in on rebelling against her, starting to pound in rhythm with her heart. It's bad enough that her left arm drops away, and her right hand picks up on shuddering.
"No, not yet...I don't need to..." She whispers, eyes still fixed on the opening.
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The demon is humanoid, inasmuch as it stands on two legs, and the mouth is logically placed in the middle of the head. Its body is tightly armored with jagged plates, but for soft places where joints must articulate: the arms, the hips, etc. These are the points where Gale takes aim. Of the five rounds he fires, only one seems to penetrate the monster's hip.
The Atma falls to one knee with a roar the strategist can feel in vibrate against his skin. The injury's enough to possibly buy them some time, maybe formulate a better strategy. Gale can already hear more distant scuffling, signaling the arrival of more assailants. He can't imagine they've any functional pack mentality at this point . . . Here's hoping for in-fighting.
"Argilla, I do not think we have a choice." The surges of adrenaline are driving the green lines up his body. "Let's just be careful." It's more of a reminder to himself to stay focused, to not let Vayu get out of hand.
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The recoil makes her drop the gun, as well as the feeling that her fingers are on fire. When she looks at that, Argilla can see faint pink lines weaving through the veins in her palms. When she hears Gale's words, that causes them to glow brighter, and her skin to darken.
"I...Understood." With that, she gives up what's already starting to feel like a losing battle with her Atma, and stops trying to fight back against the change. Prithivi is all too eager to take advantage of that, and Argilla watches as her arms go pitch black-and abruptly rip themselves apart from the inside, like they're barely able to wait for the shift from one form to another. Her skin feels worse, and she half wonders if her back and neck are actually breaking apart as the spines and plates push their way out; it feels painful enough for that to be happening.
She can't bite back the scream in her throat, and it comes out as equal parts screech and howl. Argilla is faintly aware of the ground pressing into her face as she cries out; somewhere along the the way, she must have wound up crumbled there.
Which works well enough for Prithivi. The demon is already putting a pulsing, clawed hand on the ground, telling the stone blocks around the Tuners that their proper place is buried in the joints of the newcomer.
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Not a heartbeat after Argilla, it begins in his legs, and soon his whole person is covered in a sense of stretching inside his own skin. He clutches at his temples against the sensation of his skull cleaving in two. His knees hit the ground next to his firearm, long since dropped. His escalating cry of pain hitches with his breath until it leaps into Vayu's long, growling shriek.
Vayu unfolds from the agonized posture Gale left behind to stand at his full, formidable height. The demon gives his body an impatient shake, making the flaps on his torso crinkle. Crinkle. They aren't the healthy green they used to be; they're brittle autumn browns.
He forgoes any use of his element in favor of leaping forward to stab and maul and bite. This way yields hot blood so much more quickly. His pounce drives the Atma flat on his back, where Vayu latches onto his torso trying to simultaneously drive his foot-blades into whatever he can to further pin his prey while he chews at the neck and shoulder. Of course, in his haste for a feast, Vayu finds himself thwarted by his opponent's armor.
The Atma returns the biting with a little more efficacy, chomping at Vayu's arms repeatedly. This only fuels Vayu's zeal, ridiculously convinced he'll find a tender spot soon, end this, and eat.
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Prithivi is slowly uncoiling from her position on the ground. Not fully standing, but staying crouched low to the stone, ready to dodge out of the way. Her head snaps about when she hears the dry rustling sound Vayu makes. It's certainly not the sound she's used to hearing when it comes to the other Atma.
Prithivi's curiosity only lasts until she smells the fresh blood from both Atma; then her focus is back on the fight. Now that Vayu has the other demon knocked flat, Prithivi takes the opportunity to send several sharp fragments of rock shooting up from the floor, into the creature's back.
She also growls a low warning when she hears...and feels those scuffles from before get closer. Just another minute before the second wave arrives, if that.
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