Something Wicked This Way Comes

GM: Vexx
Players: Dorian, Nine
Synopsis: The Gorbash family, a Troll/Orc couple with a pair of baby twin boys, are discovered to be attempting dark magic rituals to summon a pair of horrors into the world with an ancient dagger.
Date: September 30th, 2076

There's no null, and Nine may find herself standing in front of that door for quite some time just listening to them yell, depending on how long she waits. When that door opens, there's a troll wearing sunglasses, with a black eye, some wounds on his forehead, and small tusks piercing up over his goatee. His arm his metal, but it looks utilitarian. "What?!" He asks, obviously still heated from the argument. Behind him, his wife stands, with magical red tears running through her skin, her eyes afflicted the same. She's the one that's sick, apparently, and it's not just the flue—someone's put some kind of curse on her.

Extremely patient, Nine waited quietly. She stands there with real-beef lo mein which probably smells absolutely wonderful to anyone else w/o a breather mask. Further observations are quickly taken by her unseen eyes behind helmet visor: what all races exist within the Warrens home? How many children are there? "Please, let me help your wife."

The giant troll stands high over her, looking down at her dangerously.. and eyeing that food with malicious intent. "You want to help her?" he asks, stepping out of his apartment by ducking under the doorway, combatively close to her. "Looks like all that stuff on you is worth a lot of money.." he observes, his accent thick. Just after he speaks, his stomach can be heard to growl loudly. Inside the home, she can't see much, but they're probably paying a fortune in rent—the place has a door, no doubt leading to where the beds are. In the main room, it's just the troll and his orcish wife, doing nothing to settle her husband down.

Nine does not seem phased about the troll moving closer despite the metal arms, mostly because this can mean she will be inside his reach potential during any melee endeavour which might happen, "Perhaps, I dress well, but be assured, attempting anything foolish will not work out when I am a medical professional as well as have a PHD in kicking your ass. If you choose to try harming me, then you are not making good life choices which will help relieve her pains."

That troll pauses. He reaches a hand up, scratching his head, his sneer turning into something more—confused. "Wait a minute. How'd you make it all the way here with that gear?" He looks down the hall. "Look, I don't know why you and your people are here.. but we're hungry, okay? We don't have anything to take." When was the last time he saw a good deed?

Nine offers out the lo mein, "Well, if I wanted to hurt you, then I would just break down your dang door without politely knocking. I did not come up here with all this food — brought even more in the burlap bag — for no reason. Please, do not pass up a good thing while it is right here. I wanna help her, and you guys can actually have all these food items, and if you are real nice, then maybe even the cute cup I picked up today." She sounds so serious despite being so incredibly adorable and strangely intimidating at the same time!

The wife looks a bit frightened. "Murdock, don't let her in! The kids.." she tells, a bit of a panicked sound in her voice. She's giving Nine a worried look, moving protectively between her and the door. "We don't need any of your help." The troll gives a wary look toward his wife, and that door. "We appreciate the food, but there's nothing you can do for my wife. It's best you leave."

Nine starts passing over the food items to whoever will accept them, but when they do not want to properly cooperate, she does not give over any cat cups! This whole while she is completely calm and quite collected while also in a respectful mode concerning their free will. She will not insist they take her into their own home, "Having been cursed twice. I know what it is like, but should you not wish me inside your home, I completely understand."

The woman, her eyes wild—is she on some kind of paranoia inducing narcotic? The troll seems to be at least more collected than her, somehow, his wife standing in front of that door with her arms held out. Of course Nine could go through her, but she's making what effort she can. The orc's looking nervously over at his wife a few times, giving her the 'calm down' glare… or could it be the 'don't give us away' glare? That troll bends over to collect all of the offered food. "Thank you."
"Yes, thank you," his wife confirms. "But leave now."

Nine grunts quietly and steps back to ease up on the social/paranoia pressures, "Okay, but you must know, deep down, you need to be in top health to keep up with your young ones as well as properly protect them. If you ever decide to, then you might ask around for Nine. Someone will phone me who knows me."

The lumbering troll slips back inside, stepping with a backwards duck before closing that door on her. Whispering can be heard from where she stands, but without her ear to the door, it's too faint to make out.

Nine meanders back down with the burlap sack all wrapped up around her cat cup and the green plate from the thrift shop. She does not force them to make the smart decision but she will spy them from astral space another time. Not now.

The description is thorough. Very thorough. Enough that a little lightbulb can almost be seen making Vexx's face glow. "That's the Gorbash family. I heard his wife got sent home from work for being mentally fucked up, apparently she had some like—glowing red knife, and used it to cut herself up, right in front of some chummer buying a pack of smokes."

"My buddy Aaron heard about it, apparently he was trying to track down info on some guy that had robbed a nearby gas station and it came up. I'll try to figure out if he knows any more details." He muses a bit on what Dorian says. "I really don't know. I can't remember what neighborhood he was in, but it was somewhere here in UCAS."

"Oh yeah, I got a text from Aaron. It was a merchant stand in the Souk Market. She worked for some Arabic guy that owns like, 40 of them. He didn't follow up any more than that since it wasn't his real goal."

Nine revves up her gadget pride. She steps out to the Bastille garage where in there is a technological wonder of a Chrysler Nissan Patrol 1 (tinted windows) with gunmetal grey exterior paint and 2 rally stripes in navy blue over top. Opening up the driver door, Nine slides down into the modified sedan.

Colorful LEDs, digital displays (for various outputs), electronic ports (x2), flip switches, turn dials, special buttons, and informative meters have been neatly arranged across the front dash as a tech wonder of the current age. Stretching sideways, the front cab has a bench seat (just like the back area), both armored up with special material which suddenly firms up vs high degrees of kinetic energy. Swift impact will cause the special material to briefly shift to an orange color before changing back to its kitten grey once more.

Nine catinually texts Dorian, sending along the easy-to-find location to which the young man has full access these days. She does not intend to actually move the themey vehicle until after astral scouting, but a nice ward it doth have!

Dorian shows up sooner or later, Gertrude resting on his shoulder while being held by his right hand whereas the left rests atop the golden dragon hilted katana. His usual buttoned up white shirt and tie, over which is his secure jacket. His hair held back by a pair of goggles while his lower face is bound in a respirator mask. (Gertrude is an Ares Alpha assault rifle that's modded out the ass. For…those wondering.)

Dorian says "Mmm.. Milkshake would've been awesome..God I always forget to pick on up."

The aforementioned vehicle (Sheila E) opens up her passenger door while also closing up the driver one into which Nine recently entered. A quiet song in a male voice currently plays over the quiet speakers, "In the Ghetto~…"

Nine leans over and glances up toward Dorian through the tinted visor on the Ares helmet before speaking up through her respirator vents, "I got it on a particular playlist, if you want it."

Scarface chuckles as he steps up to the car as the door opens for him. "I'm good." He slips into the car and rests Gertrude on his lap, giving her a loving pat and rub. The only woman in his life that truly understands him.

Nine barely understands him, so at least somebody does, even if it is an inanimate object… but, then again, she has actually met many samurai who have great bonds with their external guns in addition to their attached ones. "Hey, thank you for coming along." She sits up then sets up the Savior Medkit onto the vehicle dash with several cables running down from the computer box into her armored clothes for sensing purposes. "I already have this set up, so… if you hear it go off, because I am getting my ass handed to me, then simply pick up these." She lifts up a nanite pack with its own needle fixture (currently covered in sterile plastic), "Then, stab me good. If I only bleed from my nasal cavities a tiny bit and the medkit sensors are not going off, then… I will probably be ok." She basically set it up for moderate wounds. "Then, do what you can, or give it the auto ok if you do not wanna try, and this should only take… like less than 9 minutes. Everything out there is fast paced at blurring speeds."

No one understands the Scarface? really?! What a surprise! ..Well not really, he hardly understands himself too. Fighting off the internal war of caring vs. not caring for his fellow human beings. He nods at the instructions though, and gives her a reassuring thumbs up. "Yep, all good. I've been given the rundown on the astral dealings before, Me and Gertrude will keep watch here. She'll handle any other threat, I'll keep watch on you in the meantime."

Nine shoulder pats Dorian then simply face plants her helmeted head onto the steering wheel and rises up from her meat sack into the astral realm within the warded vehicle inside which she meets up with a watcher spirit who is physicatly unseen but still there. The watcher spirit is in a feline form with a lavender coat and navy-blue tips (ears, paws, nose, whiskers, tail, etc). With vivid deep violet eyes, the tiny KKMM raptly observes the astral world. (KKMM = Kitty Kitty Meow Meow)

Nine quietly requests of the purple kitty, "Greetings. I will be going out for a little while. Please, kindly watch and diligently remember all which goes on while I am gone. I will be asking you for a full report when back. Thank you, Purple Moon."

Nine Lives is a dark figure who always masks her astral aura from external view via the masking ward along the vehicle walls and her own masking metamagic. Though, somewhere under the cloaking shadows, she is a silver female with verdant eyes and dark hair (which match up with her physical appearance) but feline ears and an ever-changing frock which is cloudy azure to sea green then simply blends back again and again. With her initiate power, though, all the brilliant colors are dubbed down into shadowy darkness with yellowed eyes.

In astral space, the purple kitty paw salutes Nine before stepping down into Dorian's lap and simply manifesting right there. She cannot be truly touched, but she certainly seems to be translucent purple and quietly purrs!

The Scarface will be the unknowing resting spot of the purple astral kitty. Dorian reaches into his jacket and takes out a small cherry pop and sticks it in his mouth, then begins drumming out a beat on the dashboard. Doo dee doo… watching limp people… doo dee doo… Solo!

Nine salutes back before she then speeds out from the vehicle interior out into the Warrens night toward where she previously met the ork/trog couple who are probably dealing with a wicked curse. When finally near, she slows down the blurring speed to slink around the entire perimeter from a block out.

Dorian says "Come on kitty, get on this solo."

Back inside Sheila, the purple kitty meowls softly along with the solo words!

The poor and forgotten march on like broken shells. The outside of the apartments hold that familiar stench of the defeated downtrodden which dominates the sprawling slum. Cats are heard to screech and fight, bottles are broken, and off in the distance a few gunshots burst out, followed by a scream, and followed by nothing. Those hollowed out souls that patrol the busted streets react to the sound of death as much as they would to the sound of a blaring horn in a traffic jam. Life and death in the Warrens forms a vicious circle, its claws of despair engulfing those within.

Yet, here, Nine will taste and feel the darkness as thick as cigarette smoke at a SINner poker game. It permeates through the astral realm like the heat, sweat, and fear of a snuff orgy, an uneasy pulse that originates from that apartment. Something wicked this way comes.

Long ago, Nine would curl up and simply cry about the awful feedback wafting up from the Aurora Warrens into the astral plane, but much more tough now after personal experience with a couple curses, the Cougar mage does not balk now. Having personally witnessed minor horrors and been through Hell's AQ, too, the willpower-hardened woman determinedly steadies herself and dives through the background count of urban despair and wicked vibes to the nearest crack for a small peek through any errant openings in the rickety apartment, if any.

Inside, everything seems normal. Too normal. The hulking troll and his orkish wife that Nine met before both occupy their couch, some bland, vapid TridVid show embarrassing itself as they watch like zombies. Nine might not even be surprised if she were to see drool rolling down the corner of one of their mouths, their gazes so unwavering and empty, but such is the state of many who simply wish to escape the life fate dealt them into another. Could be worse—there are no deserted BTL chips scattered across the floor, which is at best a start. That door, however, is still closed, and Nine spots no evidence of the children they spoke of before.

The horrendously scarred wife turns toward her lumbering, cyber-armed husband. "The child will be ready tonight," she says, cryptically, the slow smile of insanity sliding itself across her face like spilling syrup. Her husband just grunts in response at first, still engaged by their mindless entertainment, before after a moment his eyes shift to his wife. "The world will know us then." His wife nods eagerly in response. "All will know us, and the glory of our children. Only thirty minutes, and we will baptize the world in blood." There's nothing natural about her smile, nor the way it twists and rends her scars. Another agreeing grunt from her spouse, along with a nod. "First, the factory. Then, the warrens. Then, the world." He reaches out, his hand completely engulfing the smaller, twisted woman's in an affectionate squeeze.

Seeing through is a good sign. It probably means there are no astral barriers. Thus, Nine floats laterally along the apartment wall until back behind these couch potatoes and their cryptic talk. Rising up, much like a hovering wraith, the Cougar mage silently studies the ork woman then her ork husband, too, to hopefully make some sense of this pardicular problem!

Nine is easily able to pierce the veil of the apartment, and as soon as she does, the thick, malicious taint that thickens the air is suddenly so sharp and heavy that it might have made her choke, should this astral figure have had lungs. Darkness emanates from both parties, and her scrying eyes peel layer after layer away from both parties. The troll, of course, proves easier to penetrate, and he's read like an open book, while his spouse's insanity mingles playfully with whatever evil pulses from that backroom like a still-beating heart ripped from the chest of an Aztec sacrifice.


Within the astral realm, Nine nearly growls but does not do so and backs up, moving closer to the creepy door where she previously deduced there might be a children's bed back there. She already knows she should not be too hopeful. Puffing up her dark aura (just like a hissy feline), she stiff struts into the backroom door with readied claws, should she possibly need them.

Nine bounces right off of that door, ejected back and, immediately, the orc's spouse perks up, looking directly at that door. "There's someone here!" She cries out to her husband, eyes glowing a toxic red. Just then, her body slumps out from the couch. Nine will see that there's more than just a sudden dose of sleep, as a zombified, wretched projection of the woman rips its way from her flaccid flesh, it's ghoulified presence reeking of her rotten, twisted, and sickly mind.

Nine internally reprimands herself for not having checked better, but then the Cougar mage spins around and completely drops the emotional derping because doing so will only bring on further suffering here. She spins around toward the ghoulish presence which rose up from the ork meat and quietly rumbles, "Hello. Is it me you're looking for?" to the crazed gal, spouting out those soothing Lionel Richie lyrics. Nine intently watches but does not take on the direct offense quite yet here, but she merrily sings the nice song her way.

That orcish girl simply snarls at Nine's song. Her theory doesn't seem to be working, as in a flash of motion the creature tears it's way through reality, large, pointed teeth gnashing at air as though it's made of flesh while her hand reforms into a large, black, twisted claw that's flying down on Nine.

Nine electric slides away sideways as the quicksilver being she is as the twisted claws slide right down along her slick side, "Please, you must know that if we continue this, one will end up permanently damaged from the fall." Then, a shield icon pops up, strangely enough. It grows bigger and front faces the orcish girl and her ghastly presence with shining translucence much like a transparent ballistic riot shield which glows green.

The troll takes a moment to put things together, allowing his wife time to attack and Nine to respond. However, she can see him springing into action in the material realm. With one gigantic cybernetic arm, he grasps his wife by her collar and carelessly drags her across the room on her back. "I'll begin the ritual!" He cries out, moving swiftly across the room with her in tow toward that door. He's only a few paces from it when, still screeching and panting like a mad-woman, that orc cries out and leaps into the air, attempting to crash both of her claws down onto Nine.

Nine pulls back from the oncoming attack, picks up her magic shield, and basically bashes the ork woman over her fiendish head a couple times until the astral ears are lightly ringing, "What the frag is your crazy problem anyway?"

Nine keeps trying to dole out the shield bashing against the crazy ork but does not really do much more than she previously did before. Sadly so!

That orcish girl pauses, her wretched face slipping into a stunned, dazed, distant countenance as her eyes blink a few times, attempting to refocus. Meanwhile, that Troll bursts into the door, running it into splinters with a shout, mussing up the chalk sigils that guard it as he bursts through. The orcish mage, however, is quick to respond, her claws flashing, her body weaving, the flash of anger and rage flying venomously before Nine!

That troll also has enough time to grab a wicked, glowing red knife! In the room, Nine can see a wicked altar, with two baby children, of equal age, lay atop an altar. Their bodies are emaciated and warped, their skin pocked with wounds and scars from torture.

Nine catfully controls her emotional feedback right now, due to the creepy lady and whatever curse she may have. Nine does not do the usual growl she would do versus the astral opponents she normally battles. Instead, she simply focuses upon the necessary dodging of these swift strikes which are brutally placed, yet… the Cougar mage somehow manages to continually take blow after blow and still be quite well despite the ghoulish woman and her evil accoutrements.

Upon actually witnessing those abused babies, Nine's whole heart could break, but she somehow stays sane despite the incredible awfulness here. It is up to the Cougar mage to dole out Great Justice! She simply drops the magic shield which breaks up into right triangles and suddenly infuses her with more power. Drawing up those mana reserves, she blasts forth the greatest power that her stunning spell can possibly accomplish. Radiating out from her whole being, silvery threads warp out around the felinely person and paw slap the ork gal across her ghoulish face and back down into her unconscious body!

Nine pulls up the felinely forelimbs of her dark aura and finally unsheathes her silvery claws which pop out like sharp triangles of the right variety, then the Cougar mage ferociously bounds into the smaller room with the broken ward, immediately placing herself between the young ones and the wicked knife with a puma hiss which sprays forth astral spittle. BECAUSE!

The moment Nine assenses the knife, her entire astral form is assaulted. It's power radiates fiercely and, all at once, she is consumed, and transported into a distant time… near the dawn of the 6th World.

Deep within the forest outside of Knoxville, Tennessee, an intricate cave network inhabits the Cherokee National Forest. Nine is here, and among her are a series of cultists. No longer in an astral form, her body feels physical, and she perceives the world as such, yet, the world seems not to perceive her. Several men in crimson robes stand around a makeshift altar, and atop it lies that very blade. Yet, it seems to be without luster, it's red glow strangely absent. Gathering in an arcane circle around the altar, each of the four men stand only a foot away from that pedestal.

Their chanting seems to be some form of ancient dialogue, but it's clearly latin, laced with esoteric verbiage and archaic grammatical rhythm. "When darkness shines," the first robed man says, claiming that knife in his hand after he speaks, lifting it, and drawing it across his neck, nearly rending his head from his shoulder before, with his last dying motion, he places it back onto the altar before slumping down into a corpse.

"When light dims," The next tells, using that same archaic tongue, lifting the knife up and drawing it across his own neck, the crimson flow mixing perfectly with his robe before he, too, falls.

"May swan become swine," says the other, that blade painting his neck and chest the color of flowing life before he, too, succumbs to death.

"May we live her whims." The last falls, killing himself in the same fashion as his brethren. As he passes, the knife begins to glow, a crimson hue overwhelming it's visage before, without warning, the sight is snatched away like all of reality had been a drawing that's ripped from the wall.

Years pass. It's 2032, in a small section of the sprawl in Eastern Berlin. Teenage boys gather around the blade, it's glow painting their faces filled with giddy laughter. There are four of them, and they seem to be toying with the blade, their mischievous, yet nervous chuckling reminiscent of a teenage girl's slumber party with an ouija board. They read from a black book, filled with Latin text, yet it's too archaic for Nine to make out from where her form is inserted into this glimpse. Yet, over time, their demeanor changes, slowly becoming darker and darker, their laughter more sinister as the moments pass.

With no verbal provocation, one of those boys will grab a square end table from beside his friends bed, moving it into the center of the room. They each stand around that table, and without use of the book, as though in a trance, one of them begins. "When darkness shines…"

Nine will watch each of those boys die, before the bedroom door is opened by a concerned mother from the sounds of their choked, gurgling throes of death. As her shrill scream pierces through Nine's core, rattling her very bones, reality is snatched away once more.

This time, Nine stands in a world of nothing, an endless black void stretching out before her. It's not long at all before a twin figures shimmer into existence, their bodies warped and mutilated, male human bodies that appear no older than eight twisted and broken into spidery forms, arms twisting unnaturally into impossible shapes that have them "standing" on all fours, elbows and knees sharply bent the wrong way to lend a spidery visage. Unlike every scene before, these identical creatures peer directly at her, their gaze felt like a cube of ice lodged into the center of her heart: a burning, impossible cold.

"It's not nice to assence things that don't belong to you," high-pitched, childlike voices say in unison. They begin to speak, their smiles wide and horrifying with jagged, broken, blackened teeth.

"When blood binds,"

"When love cries,"

"When children die,"


Just like that, reality is snatched away once more, the world coming back as fiercely as though Nines had just been brought back into consciousness with a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart and, once more, she stands in that apartment. It appears that no time has passed at all.

An experienced traveler during metaplanar quests, Nine does not take too long between switching scenarios before she consciously memorizes the whole deal, doing so despite whatever resulting dreams there may be. Every single aspect, especially those with the spidery appearances, are thoroughly CATaloged into the enhanced reserves of her mewntal databases. Nine nearly quips back to the those last two twisted creatures which nearly spark the burning rage within, but motherly instincts are far more powerful within than any vengeful spite. Without a single word, she only takes a mere picosecond to double check on her emotional meters to make sure they are fully collected as she gathers up her intrepid willpower and positive sentimewnts, metaphysically manifesting those into the faintest outline of a gigantic claymore within her felinely paws. Bringing up the forged blade directly spawned from loving truth for both those tiny children who never deserved all this, the Cougar mage brings down the massive blade with its fang-like sharpness, Irish design, and Sioux feather — which dangles freely on a thin strap from the double-handed grip — into the corrupted knife and its creepy vibes!

Nine's claymore is at odds with the entire apartment, especially inside of that previously warded room. The swirling darkness melts through the astral air within like a black ichor that's evaporated into the air to create a thick, choking humidity, and her slice runs that through, the sheer positivity of her will-weapon slicing through that ephemeral presence like a hot knife through butter. With a clash of astral black sparks, her blade impacts the knife. The physical attack rushes through that blade, it's red, glowing aura flickering lightly under the attack in both worlds.

That troll, meanwhile, has no idea of Nine's location, and hoists his wife's limp body up with one hand clutching the entire top of her skull, holding her neck over those writhing, malnourished babies and, unknown to him, over Nine. He lifts that blade up, preparing to slit his spouse's throat…

The sickening darkness in the astral realm does not help Nine feel very scary, which is very necessary, but her astral form suddenly appears right there, stretched out between the wielded knife and the little babies as she lets out her best roars as a Cougar Mage.

Her astral presence shows up in the physicat world as a dark creature with glowing eyes of vibrant green and sharp teeth despite ghostly translucence!

That blade just begins to cut into his wife, digging into the skin, when Nine appears. A single drop of crimson falls from her throat and passes through Nine to land on one of those twins, touching it's elbow. She can hear the sickening sound of it's bones beginning to crack and warp, but there's not enough of the arcane essence to do more.

He makes it no further than that, however, as Nine's visage erupts from the ether before him. That troll hollers out, a loud roar of fear and surprise as he drops his wife, letting her crumple to the floor in a slump as he steps back, brandishing that knife at Nine!

Nine really wants to check out the little ones, but she already knows via her far more logical parts that looking back will only be a huge distraction which will delay her. Bringing around her huge sword, it splits apart before the separated pieces slide down along the under sides of her felinely forelimbs. Then, she jumps forth and wildly thrashes at the evil knife's astral form!

That troll cries out, his eyes wild as he combats the astral animal when it springs through the air toward him. Her attack dives through that knife, the red glow growing dim, and week as those babies begin to weep together, their cries sounding distant and choked, their bodies too weak and broken to muster any true ear-wrenching infant tears. The troll attempts to swipe at her, but as she flies through the air her astral form is left unscathed. Several powerful bangs come from the ceiling, followed by a hollering, muffled voice. "Keep that fucking racket down!"

Nine dodges away from the troll's attacks and lines up her own counter melee, driving home a forearm blade into the evil knife before then bringing up her hind paws to claw deeply at the last vestiges of its astral presence while catinually growling as a dark shape above the knife-wielding troll, doing so even louder now!

Ripping veins roll up the neck of the massive troll, anger rippling through his entire body as he lunges toward the ephemeral cougar. "JUST DIE!" He cries out, but what he hasn't noticed is the snuffed out blade, it's red glow absent like a candle that's flickered away against the wind. His massive arm guides the knife through Nine's cat-like visage, tearing through the air with his roar. More banging erupts from the roof, but that's the only reaction he gets, confusion washing over his face as he looks between his knife and the cougar with a bewildered expression.

Nine does not wish to, but she must keep up her creepy charade here, and so… much like a feminine version of the freakish Alucard, she cackles madly from her astral side toward the massive troll, "Your slitch hoop knife done broke, Son! Now, it is absolutely worthless. See, its red glow has completely ceased!"

That troll looks more than confused when the cougar begins to speak, his eyes flash wide. "Wait!" He tells, finally catching on, no doubt remembering the strange abilities of his wife. "You're.. you're not real!" He lifts that knife higher, and then his spouse, holding her head over those children and cutting her neck open. Blood pours out, coating both of them as he seethes. "Change! CHANGE!"

Nine slinks around behind the shouting trog, doing so as her maniacal laughter mixes up with all those high pitched cougar noises, "Look at you, bleeding out your own wife over your own children! Kill yourself now, you worthless drek!"

The gigantic factory worker begins to openly cry, his eyes wetting all of his cheeks as palms reach down to smear that slick wet red across both of the sobbing children, as they begin spit and dribble their mother's blood, turning their thin, emaciated necks left and right. "No, no. You're not real. You're not real.." he chants. And that's how he'll stay, for hours no doubt, regardless of what Nine says or does.

Nine growls low, "What did you hope to accomplish by doing this to your family, by ruining not only your own life but everything else real men stand for?" and then with another puma scream, she pops out from visible view back into the screwed up astral only and zooms away, back toward her awaiting body where the scarfaced samurai and purple watcher are chatting up an incendiary storm!

When Nine gets back, Purple Moon has perched herself atop Dorian's noggin as the scouting duo chat away about concealed weapons and incendiary grenades while additionally asking Nine what was up. Initially quiet, Nine does not say much until Sheila E is finally moving toward the wretched household yonder.

Not expecting the young man to really respond, Nine still texts Vexx for the first time since the other night, » "Mrs. Gorbash is no more, but then there are tiny children which are suffering badly right now. Heading there." «

Then, Nine finally breaks unfortunate news during travel time concerning the whole ordeal which somewhat rattles her, but she is apparently collected and outwardly functional as an introverted personality can do.

Driving might be somewhat rushed, since she is in a huge hurry to be there!

Text Message to Nine from Vexx // Friend of mine is gonna be there. Tell him you know me.

There's traffic, but Nine arrives in good time all the same. What's odd, is the front door is open. Inside, that door is still busted wide, and a few of the neighbors have gathered outside, a mixture of horror and gossip etched over their faces as they peer into the apartment. Once they've been pushed past, Nine will see that the Troll is no longer alone. The twins have been doused with water, the blood washed away and their bodies tended to, while that Troll sits in the corner of the room.

Standing above him is a new figure. A tall elf, his face oddly dingy for his race, wears a half-mask that covers his mouth and nose, leaving his blonde mohawk jutting lazily into the air above his head. He's got an SMG trained on the troll who, by all appearances, has been beaten pretty badly. His eyes are swollen, lips bloody, and several massive bruises and welts decorate his body. Oddly, he hasn't been shot. Yet. His eyes, a deep, solid black pair of orbs, shift toward Nine.

"Get the fuck out."

Purple Moon was left behind, since Nine did not want her coming along into the residual mess all over the disgusting apartment where the hearth spirits are probably going fragging crazy. Dorian glided alongside Nine as they moved up, finally witnessing the disgusting scene. Nine briefly grunts, "Vexx." then efficiently maneuvers toward the little ones, if anyone will let her to them. Though, she does not give any mind to the warped troll as Dorian pulls out his trusty Gertrude and sets up right next to the other elven fellow. "Sup?" says the balamasked elven man with the assault rifle pointed directly at troll guy.

The masked elven man pays Nine and her friend no more mind once that name is uttered. He'll not stop her from taking the children, instead refocusing on the Troll. A stiff, oiled combat boot lifts up and crushes powerfully into the beaten and battered troll's face, meeting it with a sickening crunch. The Troll cries out, holding his arms up in defense. "Please, no more," he sobs. "Please."

That troll won't suffer much longer. Dorian gains no response as the elven vigilante pulls a machete from his jacket and saws and hacks at that Troll's neck, one hand pushing back on his forehead to expose his throat until, after the grinding noise of bone on blade finally snaps away, he's decapitated. That severed head is lifted from the corpse, the massive body slumping over and falling against the floor heavily. He walks right past Nine and Dorian, the hanging, dripping head held out in front of them while he paces out toward the crowd, holding the expired face toward them. Many gasp in horror, parting to clear his way through, but he stops in the center of them.


"The Warrens have had enough!" He tells, his voice raised up in anger, turning about to make sure every person there gets a good look at that head. "I know you're afraid. I know why you fear to leave your homes at night. But this night is your call to action." Men hold their wives and children close at the gruesome display. "You are not weak. You are not broken. You are the life of this broken city." A few of the crowd begin to let their eyes slowly change, from fear to determination. To anger. "I am the manifestation of the rage you feel when what's yours is taken. I am the realization of your loss, your anger, the proxy of your justice. I will not rest." The head is allowed to drop, splatting wetly to the ground. The elven eyes above that mask shift, accusing as he looks over the strong in the crowd.

"So why have you?" Just like that, he walks away, disappearing into the fog of the city.

Dorian simply shrugs while simultaneously re-shouldering his assault rifle, then golf claps during the neck cutting then sighs deeply, "I wanted to do that."

Nine gathers up the half-ork, half-troll babies which are not so tiny, but the Cougar mage is no wimp and can still carry them held close as she skates out, catting down through the old stairwell and then out into Sheila E where the quicksilver elf (who still claps in golf style) finally meets her. Piling in, they drive off, leaving the horrific experience behind.

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