The Honor Circle Returns! (IC)

[Stygian]

Back at the bar there was an uncomfortable silence that stretched for an indecently long time. People silenced, sighed, leaned against tables and counters and generally managed that unique sort of contemptuous slouch that has just a bit of ill-willing apprehension to it so it doesn't go quite all the way to loitering. There was only the sound of the fights being held, dimmed and tiny as they were delivered to the spectators. Or at least, they seemed such to the ones not really watching the spectacular brawl taking place 'elsewhere'. The discomfort was only enhanced for a particular occupant, who stood straight with a grunt, taking in the elf with boorish disappointment.
   'It's not exactly what I wanted you to see,' she admitted, grudgingly, then turned to stare at nothing in particular. In someone else's mind is not exactly... she thought to herself. Then she sighed. She had to find some sort of distraction, do something productive before the place lapsed into such moodiness that there was no getting out. Literally. Having surveyed the outside of the establishment when arriving, she knew it was about as hospitable and eventful as a mountaintop on a rainy day. So having to choose between that and a tar pit of depression... What she needed was a fight. Some excitement, and the opportunity to bend and break some curious person, preferably someone else she could use to...
   There was an almost audible click, as a thought slid into place in the psychic's head, and a sudden grin spread across her face, an acrid look to it that could make one's eyes water. She suppressed it quickly, then turned, and approached Dekuyaketh.

[Yugo]

Kaela grimaced as she returned to her previous crouch, the ton folds of her flesh rubbing together wetly and painfully, causng the nerves in her chest to sing at her of white-hot agony. It wasn't a serious wound by any means, but it was one that, with time, would begin to nag at her strength and willpower, slowing down the speed of her reflexes and strength of her blows. She flexed her hand absently, her hot-blooded nature clawing at her to attack and draw more blood before being rebuked and set back down in its previous place. Her fury had its place, but at the moment it could cost her both the fight and possibly her life. It might have been a staged one, but Kaela had no illusions as to the abilty of Andrace's weapons to rapidly end her life.

She took the lioness' goading in stride, standing stock-still like a compressed spring before each of her feints. There was no need to react, Kaela would know when the real attack would come. A grin spread across her face at the woman's insults. "Come on, I'm not that old am I?", she asked, a serious tone to her voice. The joking facade dropped quickly when Andrace made her move, and Kaela quickly assessed the situation. At times like these her mind worked at light-speed, and she aimed to use that to her advantage.

If she did nothing, the lioness' blade would punch through her abdominal muscles ino one of her lungs, for what would surely be a debilitating, it not fatal, injury, but if she parried, it could result in a worse situation. Kaela compromised, and punched out at the incoming blade with her free hand, opening up the skin along her knuckles with a fine red spurt. Better that than dead, she thought, and if she kept her fist clenched it shouldn't hurt too bad. Knife in her other hand, she made a half-hearted slash at Andrace's face. It was the easiest part of the body to defend, she knew, but causing an actual cut with the attack with her weapon was not the intent. Using the opportunity of a possible distraction, she bull rushed Andrace, attempting to push her onto the floor.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace's eyes narrowed, her ears flicking slightly back and forth and her tailtip almost quivering as she watched Kaela intently. So, she was hurting badly from the slash across her chest. The dark colour of her sports bra made it hard to tell how badly she was bleeding, although the lioness couldn't really complain: her own clothes were chosen for colour in the same way.

She almost swore out loud when the crazy old wolf actually punched her knife thrust. She'd only had that done to her once before, by a rampaging Demon, who'd been able to harden his fist to shrug off the damage. (Unfortunately for him, two seconds later Andrace's little sister hacked his head clean off his shoulders with her axe. He hadn't bothered to harden his throat.) Kaela was no Demon, though, her counterattack stopped the thrust — and wrenched Andrace's other wrist and nearly sent the knife flying — but the blade sliced open her knuckles, in what had to be another painful injury.

Andrace didn't bother to parry Kaela's stab at her face, she just ducked, leaving her left-hand knife free to jab upward at the wolf's lunging right arm. She almost made a disastrous mistake, though, ducking a moment too late: perhaps it was the drink slowing her reflexes. The lioness hissed and flinched as the point of the long knife ripped open a bloody gash along the top of her muzzle and up her forehead. A few locks of hair fluttered to the ground at her feet. Her blood froze as she realised how close an escape she'd had: if her head or Kaela's wrist had twitched as little as an inch or so, that knife was long and sharp enough to go into an eye — or even up her nose — and punch through to come out of the back of her skull.

She snarled angrily, more at her own carelessness than at her opponent, and met Kaela's charge by... falling backwards. As she fell, blood spattering into her eyes obscuring her vision for a moment, her right leg swept across, aiming to smack her big, heavy paw into the wolf's ankles, and she raised both arms, her knives sticking up like a rather sparse bed of nails for Kaela to (hopefully) trip and fall onto.

[Stygian]

From the sealed cellar door, down in the deep recesses of the Circle, silence radiated. Not regular silence, as in the absence of sound, but rather silence as in something that would deaden sound, that would kill it at contact. And behind the door were something even more terrible. Not darkness, as in an empty, void thing, but as in something charged, something that were there.
   Darkness, theoretically, is only an absence of light. In an analogous system there can only be two ends of things, after all. However, it is widely recognized by mathematicians that in order to be able to begin contemplating the really interesting aspects of problems, you have to start using negative numbers. Physicists have also discovered antiparticles, and philosophers and psychologists dabble in these matters as well as a natural result. Now, contemplate these things for inspiration, and then imagine something so black and thick that it swallows up light, rather than reflecting it. Something that has to be observed in the absence it creates in the surroundings, rather than in anything directly emanating from or mirroring off it.
   It waited behind the door, at the same time both moving with evil purpose and lurking in motionless, intent and ready horribility.

- -

Dekuyaketh didn't even have the time to look up, having only just emerged and probably still feeling somewhat fuzzy, before Andrea placed herself perfectly in front of him and slapped her palms down lightly onto the table he were seated at. Bending down, she restrained herself from influencing him to think anything particular or see her in a certain light, and merely focused on his thoughts for the moment, as she made a nosy little smile at him.
   'Feeling better?' she asked him, in an entirely unnecessary show of interest. 'Well enough to take your anger out on someone?'

[Yugo]

Kaela managed a grim smile of satisfaction despite the throbbing pain in her hand as her knife punched across the top of her head, drawing thin rivulets of blood along its path. Nothing fatal of course; it was just another ornament similar to her own facial scars. "Too slow! Now you know how I feel most of the time," she grinned as she rushed forward, shoulder pushing towards Andrace's chest.

What surprised her wasn't that Andrace had fallen intentionally, but rather that she hadn't met her charge head on. Stumbling, it only took Andrace's careful trip to send her wholly off balance. She floated in the air briefly, snarling as Andrace ripped the fur and flesh along the top of her right forearm, causing her knife to drop to the ground from a suddenly nerveless hand. Kaela stared at the sharp little daggers pointed upwards, Andrace watching expectantly through the blood in her eyes, and threw all of her weight to one side. It wasn't good enough, but it was a lot better than the alternative as the blades tore two huge gashes side-to-side across her abdomen. If it hurt like a bitch now, which it certainly did, Kaela didn't want to think about how painful it would be after the fight. Sparing a glance at the wounds, Kaela measured how close of a call it had really been. Any deeper and her intestines would be pouring out onto the floor. She rolled over painfully, scrabbling with her left hand to find her fallen knife.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace's smile was triumphant through the blood running down the sides of her muzzle as she saw Kaela lose her grip on her knife. It shifted to a look of satisfaction more associated with lesser felines and dairy products when she saw the spray of blood and felt the tugs on both her own knives, that signalled a definite hit on the wolf's stomach despite Kaela's efforts to twist out of the way.

The lioness rolled over and rose to a crouch. Kaela rolled the other way, her right arm hanging limp and bleeding freely from a long, deep cut, but her left arm... Andrace tossed her right-hand knife up in the air, and before it came back down again and she caught it, she pulled a small blade from a hidden pocket on her left sleeve and threw it hard at the wolf's left hand as it groped for the dropped knife.

Andrace hopped forward and straddled Kaela's body, sitting down hard and clamping her knees tightly around the wolf's waist. She thrust her knives down... and stopped. The point of one blade poked into the fluffy fur at the side of Kaela's throat, right over the jugular vein. The other prodded the soft tissue somewhat left of centre on her chest, angled in to aim at her heart. The lioness leaned forward and purred persuasively into Kaela's uninjured ear. "Y' ready t' surrender? Or do I lean on y' a bit more?" She wiggled both knives, pressing just barely hard enough to break the skin: Kaela now sported two more small patches of reddened fur.

Andrace hurt all over, her face and left leg dripped blood, the bones of her left wrist were held together with spit and sticky tape, and her right wrist felt sprained. But she grinned toothily and ferally, confident that this time, she had the old wolf beaten.

[Tipod]

After several minutes of lying on the floor like a throwaway rug, Bart finally mustered up enough strength to push his head out from the wood panelling and rise. Aside from a monster headache, wooziness, and several splinters lodged up his nostrils, he felt fine. Nowhere near as combat-ready or capable as before, but standing nonetheless. And with Kaela and Andrace on the floor in their little spat, it was the perfect chance to move in and lay some smack down on his tiring opponents. He grabbed a nearby chair and staggered over, but once he got close enough, his cocky expression softened.

...nah, that's a dick move. Bart had managed to be relatively sporting so far, and now wasn't a time to break the streak. He set the chair down and took a seat, quietly observing and wishing he'd brought some beef jerky to snack on while he watched the women tear each other to pieces.

[Yugo]

Kaela's body burned viciously as she slowly watched her arm stretch across the room, her fingers scrabbling on the wooden floor to grasp the leather-bound hilt of her blade. Her claws scraped against the hide, pulling it slightly closer, and she clenched her fist around it, just as a hard flung piece of metal sliced along the top of it, bringing a strange tingling sensation to the surrounding muscle. That was a nerve, she told herself calmly, turning about and making sure she could still use the weapon as she tried to reface her opponent.

She almost made it. Kaela barely stifled a groan of pain as Andrace leapt on top of her, squeezing the ripped flesh on her stomach, adding to the array of blood spatters on their bodies and the floor in a burst of agony. Reversing her grip on the bloodied knife, Kaela thrust out at Andrace's face as if she were using an ice pick, just stopping an inch short of the lioness' eye socket. They both panted furiously, from both the exertion and the vast amount of blood loss and injury the two warriors had incurred. "I'm only ready to surrender if you are, Kithara," Kaela growled softly, stressing the last word with a measure of respect. "That was a good fight, so I hope you're ready to get good and drunk, and maybe swap a few stories. You can keep your share of the money." The old wolf grinned toothily. "I just wanted to fight."

[Sunblink]

Dekuyaketh didn't even have the time to look up, having only just emerged and probably still feeling somewhat fuzzy, before Andrea placed herself perfectly in front of him and slapped her palms down lightly onto the table he were seated at. Bending down, she restrained herself from influencing him to think anything particular or see her in a certain light, and merely focused on his thoughts for the moment, as she made a nosy little smile at him.
   'Feeling better?' she asked him, in an entirely unnecessary show of interest. 'Well enough to take your anger out on someone?'

Dekuyaketh glanced up almost drunkenly at the woman leaning over his table, suddenly becoming rather conscious of his personal space. However, he was feeling too intoxicated on residual traces of painkillers that hadn't been completely washed out of his body to completely resist, or formulate a sardonic comment regarding the woman's forwardness. Instead, Dekuyaketh did not interrupt; he deliberately took a swig from the glass of water like he was guzzling heaven's honey, then slapped the glass down on the table. At least what the woman said intrigued him enough to actually consider what she was saying, although he certainly wasn't going to charge headlong into a situation that - sadly - was beyond his ability. It wasn't cowardice, it was pure pragmatism (as he liked to think), something a lot of inexperienced Demons did not have, and had died for.

"That depends," he answered in a low rumble, "I'm not in a bad enough mood to even think about running into the face of someone who could have me locked up in a mental institution in a heartbeat."

Dekuyaketh bluntly assessed the woman, managing to keep his gaze intrusive and yet pointedly nonsexual, like he was doing it purposefully just to annoy her. "What about you, sweetcheeks? Are you in the same situation as I am?"

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace kept her confident grin for maybe three seconds. The expression on her face went completely blank when she realised she'd forgotten to keep track of the knife Kaela dropped. Aw, crud... was the first thing to go through her mind — then the wolf's thrust at her face stopped, just as her own attack had done. She tried to focus on the very sharp tip of the blade, but it was too close: she thought she might be able to brush it with her eyelashes if she blinked.

The lioness fixed her golden-brown eyes on Kaela's bloodstained hand, then looked down at the old wolf's face with an implacable hunter's stare. A drop of blood ran along one whisker, fell and splashed on Kaela's chest... then her grin returned, and she started laughing boisterously. "A draw it is, Kaela," she said. "Hell, after th' week I've had, I was just lookin' f'r a good fight as well, just t' unwind." She lifted her own knives away from the wolf's throat and chest, and released the crushing grip of her leg-lock. Then she shifted her weight as she began to sit up, and paused with an flattened-ears wince. She tried to hold herself up, but her knives clattered to the floor as her wrists gave way and she flopped back down with a grunt to lie on top of Kaela.

"Ow. M' leg don't like me doin' that, I think I strained somethin' just a bit." The exertion of the leg hold hadn't done Andrace's stab wound much good, it felt as if the fur on her left leg was now soaking wet from hip to hock. She flicked one ear back and raised her least injured hand. "I heard y' lurkin' about back there, Bart. If y're done fightin' there's a couple o' classy ladies here needin' a hand t' stand up. If y're not done, I'll gut y' an' crawl back t' th' tavern, draggin' th' pair o' y' b'hind me." She didn't speak in a threatening tone, she just sounded matter-of-fact confident that, despite her injuries and blood loss, she was still capable of carrying out the required mayhem on Bart if necessary.

[Tipod]

"Depends. Do I win just by bein' able to stand on my own?" Bart shifted in his seat, laid back with both legs stretched and one ankle propped over the other. "If so, then I accept victory. If not, I'll just have to kick you again and again 'till you surrender." But that was still in the territory of "unsmooth moves." With both opponents down and almost crippled, was there really any kind of honor to be had from further combat? It'd feel incredibly one-sided, and the pensive look on Bart's mug conveyed showed that he knew so.

...screw it. "Hell with it, just get your carcasses in gear." He stood and reached out a helping hand to Andrace. "Let's swap some yarns, figure out just what kinda women can actually get good knocks in on a Thompson boy." The headache from the lioness' last move still lingered tenderly in his skull, as did the little aches in his jaw.

[Boog]

Boog swaggered back up behind the bar cheerfully, his job done insofar as he was concerned. Yes, Styggy and dark places get on a bit too well, but then that'll just be a NEW problem wont it? He simply took in the atmosphere in the bar... Which was listless, bored and irritated. Nearly gagging on the taste of ennui in the air the concept entity wracked his brain for something to drum up business and hit upon a most pleasing idea. Pleasing for him, anyway. Picking up the sign he had left by the Storybook, he added "inquirers get free drinks," and placed it back where he left it.

--

Marya sat up in her bed and started stripping off bandages. The doc' did good work, even if he was a creepy bastard...

[Angel]

The moment the Boogeyman re-entered the bar, Dani perked up and started feeling a little more like she had when she'd first seen the thought-creature changing shape. About freaking time! she thought gleefully, and stood up to head to the bar. She grinned at the addition to the sign, and plunked herself down on the barstool nearest the book.

"Y'know, I was gonna ask anyway," she addressed Boog. "But I could use another Bailey's coffee as long as you're offering."

-----

Sylvie didn't really respond to what Andrea told her, though whatever thought was involved did her credit. She wasn't sure what to do other than wait and see what happened to Stygian, and though she knew she was a contributing factor (at least in part) to the current atmosphere, she wasn't about to be the one to pick up spirits. It would seem very strange and she didn't feel like it anyway.

When Dani approached Boog, Sylvie glanced at them out of the corner of her eye. She almost looked at Dani's healed legs and arm-bandage, but all she could think of was the moment when the guard had threatened to drop a manatee on Stygian if he annoyed her too much. The elf finally picked herself up off the threshold to the infirmary and headed to a seat just far enough from Dani and Boog to indicate she wasn't going to interfere. There was more of a possibility of a smile on her face than an actual smile, but it was close enough.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt, who had sauntered out of the medical area after the bartender (why shouldn't he follow the single most important person in the bar?), absently sucking on the lollipop that Doc Holic had left him, raised one eyebrow at the addition to the sign, and parked himself on the barstool next to Dani.

He waved a thumb in the direction of the sign, and cryptically uttered "How many?"

[Boog]

The muse looked Dani up and down, having not payed too close attention to the girl previously. The most striking feature was the obviously-artificial-cherry-flavoring-red hair. It seemed to announce her, like a visual bullhorn. Next were the eyes, which Boog admittedly only skimmed over. They weren't REALLY the window to the soul, he'd checked. It was just how you saw things. Then there were the tattoos, and the weapon...
Boog's face split into a grin, tombstone-shaped teeth seeming to multiply and grow larger for the purpose of expression, "Well don't I feel silly then." He turned away to fetch Dani's Baileys coffee and toned the grin down to a smirk at Witt's inquiry. "Depends on the inquiry, I suppose. After all, play your cards right and one question can result in many, many free drinks indeed. Questions beget more questions, little coincidences build up... According to chaos theory, anyway." He set out the Red's drink with a thunk and ran his finger along the spine of the book absentmindedly. "Short version? I'm not bartending here for my health. It's my community service. And this, here..." He drummed his fingers on the book once, "Is my crime. And I need it disposed of. Admittedly, it's not the SAFEST of options one could have..." The muse shrugged sheepishly, "But the only currency that really keeps its value these days is owed favors, don't you think?" Given the list of rewards on the sign, it could be assumed that The Boogeyman was capable of some interesting favors indeed...

[Stygian]

Andrea blinked, and resisted cocking her head to the side in confusion, yet some puzzlement did make its way into her features nevertheless. She wasn't quite sure what Dekuyaketh was saying, nor did she get too many hints that she could interpret from his immediate thoughts precisely what he had meant. His mind was a mishmash of different elements, all evidently painstakingly wedged and forced together, from what she could tell from the 'noise' he broadcast. It was a nervous sort of noise, a discordant 'sound' to his thought processes that hinted at stress and tension running through them. It was like listening to punk rock; technically it was still music, but the difference in harmony and quality from the regular stuff was glaringly obvious. But, at least it wasn't trying to crawl into her head...
   'I'm just itching for something to take my mind off all this,' the woman replied in a haughty, challenging tone. 'I was thinking either a drink or a fight. The way it seems though, you might just have to buy me one, seeing as the others get theirs for free...'

- -

There was a light, peeling sound at the edge of hearing from somewhere on the indistinct horizon. Slowly, a strange vessel revealed itself to the eye. Slowly, yet traveling very, very fast. Slender but hard-edged as a blade and colored a harsh off-red color, it cut the air with the characteristic disregard for things of all machines, hovering just a couple of feet off the ground and holding a razor-straight course as it sliced forward at the speed of a bullet. It gave off a sound that can, grossly simplified, be described as a 'mechanical thrum'. The characteristic, half electrical and half burning sound of a variety of complex, mostly unmoving parts cooperating with any manner of discomforting amounts of energy sizzling through them. The sort of sound that is practically the hallmark of all self-respecting devices of highly advanced and powerful technology. Behind it, very faint trails of red-orange streamed from exhaust ports, causing the occasional crackle or spark in the air, particles ionizing randomly.
   The thing kept its speed for a good while. The horizon was quite far away in a place like the one the Circle was located in. But after a couple of minutes, it started a calculated, slow deceleration, as precisely devised and disregardful of most anything but function as its own construction. Turning a long, low curve across the ground, it passed on the outside of the circles inscribed outside of the entry of the bar, and then came to a gentle halt, before dropping to the ground on claw-like folding supports. Its leech-like shape sat still, condensation forming on some of its hind metallic parts in the damp air.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt snorted. "No, I don't think. Or, at least, not without another drink." He made a pass of his paw over the bar, and a sparkling coin remained spinning on the surface.

"Another one of those ales, and I'll think about it. Any further details you can provide about that..." and he nodded at the book "while I drink?"

[Angel]

Dani ignored Boog's examination of her, and returned his grin almost in kind when his mouth stretched farther than she'd ever seen before. Her smile wasn't nearly as wide as his, but it carried at least half the madness. She took her coffee gratefully, sipping it and looking at the book while the barkeep spoke. It looked pretty ordinary, but why shouldn't she take his word? Oh. Wait. ... Actually, I don't know whether the fact that he reminds me of home means I can trust him or not.

"How exactly would you have to 'dispose' of that if you can't just chuck it?" she asked, glancing back up at Boog for a second before looking back at the book.

[Boog]

"Smart girl," Boog cooed, brushing some imagined bit of dust off his coat, "The reason I can't just chuck it, or rather them, it because they'd come back. You see, my dear, I'm a bit of an artist and, like many artists, some of my creations can be found offensive. Or dangerous. The thing is, it would appear that I offended and endangered enough to attract the attention of some truly ruthless critics." He drummed his fingers on the book again, "To destroy this would require the death of each and every last one of the entities bound in its pages, and it appears they're a bit too resilient to be gotten rid of all in one go. I'd be proud if it wasn't such a pain in the ass." He set out Witt's ale. "They're... Sort of like me. Renegade phobias and archetypes and whatever else I could throw in for the work. Multilayered, open to interpretation on a number of levels, and linked to the viewer to ensure they're something on par with the audience's critical eyes or any of the other weapons ever brought to bear against creativity."

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt snickered. "I usually meet critics with a barstool to the face. I've found it to work so far..."

He paused to take a drink from the unsettling bottle in front of him, then went on. "I'm guessing that that's not gonna work, though. Likewise shoving that thing," with a nod at the book, "through an industrial shredder." He pondered for a minute, mulling the idea over in his mind.

"So, let me get this straight. That thing is an index of imaginary beasts, all of which are actually real, live, imaginary beasts. Um. And you want someone here to get into the ring with them, one at a time, and kick their heads, or whatever analogue they have, in. Only, because they're imaginary, they might not have heads. Or they might not be kick-able. Or they might also be phobias. Or things that go bump in the night, or what have you. And they'll read what passes for the mind of the person they're up against for more ideas."

He paused, to let that sink in. "And in return for this, you're going to do us the lordly favour of getting us a drink." He shook his head. "Unless there's something far more interesting involved, you're gonna need to find another sucker, boyo, 'cause I ain't buyin' that. Not for all the tea in China."

And with that, the short, squat, irritating ball of prickles punctuated his pronouncement with yet another swig of the bottle.

[Boog]

"Oh, the drink's just for asking. As I said, the reward is that I owe you a favor." Boog grinned broadly, "Any favor, so long as it doesn't involve outright breaking any of the circle's rules. So, a question for you then is..." The thought entity poured himself a drink, something deep red and fizzing, "Would you like all the tea in china? Take me a bit, but I'm sure something could be arranged."

[Stygian]

'Sounds like you have an idea what China is,' said a voice by the door, suddenly. It was the sort of voice that can make asthmatic people shiver and regular people start sniffing the air without the slightest reason, coarse and murky and slightly peculiarly accented. A hooded figure had entered the doorway and stepped in in deep silence, a slight gleam of eyes and trails of smoke under the hood of what looked slightly like a quite heavy and gold-trimmed deep crimson priest's robe. 'I might not be entirely off then. This is...?'
  A boot, smoothly fashioned by black synthetic material and tipped with a dome of steel, made a slightly crackling noise as it swung out from the shadows beneath cloth colored deep red and a green so dark that it was black, as if there were fine grains of ash or sand under it. There were the faintest of metallic clinking sounds emanating from within the figure's robes, as it raised hands wrapped in black cloth bandages and strange gloves, and pulled back its hood.
  The face that came into view might have been very handsome once, a face to match the voice in smoothness, direction and strength, with clear-cut and favorable features, a slight hint of a hook to the nose and a straight jaw and strong chin. But that would have to have been before it had been burned by a jet exhaust. Actually, most seemed to find it was rather hard to explain that face to a third party, or to guess at what might have caused the man to look as he did, because he hardly bore the shattered or molten, clay-like features of someone who has been burned or damaged by shrapnel or acid. His skin fit tightly and precisely where it was supposed to. It was just that it was graying and cracked so much that it looked more like a mask of ash laid over the muscles of his head, ready to come off at any second. Over it long bangs of frayed jet black hair with thin gray-brown lines embedded in places fell over his brow, and a pair of eyes so orange and gleaming they belonged on some nocturnal predator rather than a man. A golden earring of some sort hung from a nicked ear, showing a somewhat cross-shaped symbol that matched the one dangling from a thin chain around his neck.
  'I guess I am lost,' he admitted, after a couple of seconds, showing slightly yellow-gray and occasionally jagged teeth as he spoke, watching the bar's occupants.

- -

The machine had been watching intently from the very moment she picked up the first traces of sound. It was a sound she knew and had analyzed before. A pair of Zephyr ground-level 'electro-cramjet' engines, it sounded like. Combination fan effect and ion reflection engines that worked by saturating, compressing, driving and burning intake air to achieve the effect of a jet engine without having to blow out gallons and gallons of fuel, or lug around too much two-component chemicals like some simple rocket engine. An economical sort of drive, though not too powerful or scalable, that belonged on high-speed low-altitude craft, mostly surface-effect flyers. The sort of stuff reserved for special purposes or those wealthy enough to own that sort of vehicle. She sidled closer to the windows and took another seat.
   Her suspicions were confirmed when a slimmed-down shape like a cyber-punk shirt iron slowed to a stop within view right outside the bar. A low tearing sound slowly died out, and she peered out through the dusty glass. The color and markings, and even more the involved technology of the vehicle, all gave her hints, however it was the figure itself that stepped out of the hovercraft and its dress that finally settled it. She drew back, and had she a face that could move that much she would have frowned.
   Devout were mostly stereotyped as idiosyncratic, dull and as seclusive as pious. Not the sort to go on adventures. So why was one there right now?

- -

There was an echo. There shouldn't have been any, since there was nowhere for any noise to travel there from, but down in the corridor, outside the somehow looming door to the room beyond, there was one nevertheless. And then another. And then more. Little fragments voiced that were secrets, slipping through cracks that were not spaces but possibilities. Things that one had better not listen too intently to.
   The door remained closed. But the longer it did, the deeper the darkness around it became. It was as if the shadows gravitated toward it, drawn by some imperceptible force. It was far too easy to imagine something behind the door, drawing on them through sheer weight of... something. Evil. Power. Horribleness. Probably a combination of all three.
   A fraction of a voice slipped through the hair-thin crack of reality that was the seal of the door. It slunk away through the dark, turning into something horrible. A half-truth followed it on little skittering, slipping tendrils of slyly used technicality, sent with the same purpose but uninterested in or incapable of pursuing its goal. But the whispers had caught the idea now, and were driven by the dark. They reached further, searching for someone to hear them...

[Yugo]

"I'm getting damn tired of your arrogance," Kaela growled weakly, trying to roll Andrace off of her broken body before her stomach wounds tore open even further. Summoning all of her strength, she brought herself to a sitting position and brandished her knife. Kaela ground her teeth together in obvious discomfort as she pointed her weapon at Bart. "If you're going to come over here and kick me or Andrace, I'll fucking castrate you." Her knife cut the air in an obvious demonstration.

She changed her demeanor quite rapidly when Bart cast away his posturing and swaggering. If there was one thing Kaela could stand, it was too much pride. All warriors were proud, and she was no exception, but there was a level she couldn't tolerate. Bart possessed it in spades. "Good," she said with a warm smile as Bart dropped the issue, heading over to bring Andrace to her feet. "Can you help me too?", Kaela asked, neglecting to mention her preivious threats.

[Angel]

Sylvie had been watching Boog, Witt and Dani interact with mild amusement when the strange voice spoke up. It sounded familiar somehow, but she couldn't quite place it... she turned around to look over her shoulder at the newcomer, and her eyes grew a bit. Had she been familiar with the DC Comics Universe, she'd have known to think of the man behind her as "Bizarro-Stygian." Having no such knowledge, she could only stare in wonder at what appeared to be the man in the storage closet as a negative photo. And with a degree from a seminary.

Somehow, though, he wasn't quite a mirror image. His skin seemed to be...weathered somehow, and his voice had some underlying similarities to the other, but it wasn't as smooth or pleasing to listen to as Stygian's. The pointy teeth were the same, though, and unnerved her just slightly, in the same way.

Stop thinking about it, her mind commanded her. You're going to drive yourself crazy if you don't calm down. So she just turned away from the not-Stygian and turned back to the discussion between Boog and Dani. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something very strange was going to happen soon...

-----

Dani laughed at Witt's summary of his opinions on challenging the monsters and other possibly horrific things in the book. She agreed, it sounded insane, but that was precisely why she was so curious about doing it. Just have to make sure I don't become part of the 30% margin he mentioned... She was hoping to ask more about how fighting the monsters in the book would work, but the new guy's entrance interrupted her. She glanced over, and had a somewhat milder reaction than Sylvie to the similarity this guy had to Stygian. Sylvie recovered and distracted herself from any stressful thoughts soon enough, but she still looked a bit wary.

Doesn't matter as long as she's not going to scream or throw up, I guess, Dani thought with a mental sigh. She looked at Boog. "So, should I save my questions for later?" she asked, casting her eyes at Nega-Styg to clarify.

[SpottedKitty]

"Ow — y' okay down there, Kaela?" Andrace said as she rolled herself off of the slightly flattened wolf. "I dropped on y' a bit heavy there, m' leg gave out all o' a sudden, an' m' wrists don't want t' take m' weight." She grunted as she grabbed hold of Bart's offered hand and he pulled her to her feet. "Thanks f'r th' lift, Bart, much 'preciated." She gave him a brief but crushing hug, and a chin-to-forehead lick that was probably meant to be friendly, although her tongue was dry and had a texture like coarse sandpaper.

Andrace's other hand was clamped over the stab wound in her thigh. "Yep, that's def'nitely bleedin' pretty bad, better get that seen t' right now." she muttered as she examined her leg. The lioness stood balanced easily on one foot, tail flicking back and forth, her left paw barely touching the floor. She winced, clenched her jaw and performed the same healing routine she'd done earlier, summoning a handful of syrupy green light and pouring it over the wound. She sighed in relief as the bleeding slowed, but didn't quite stop.

"How 'bout you, Kaela?" she asked the wolf. "Need a bit o' quick fix t' keep things hangin' t'gether while we hobble off t' see th' doc?"

[Yugo]

"I think I might," the wolf grimaced, fearing that at any minute her intestines might flood through her wounds. "Y'damn near disemboweled me," Kaela said between her gritted teeth as a compliment rather than an insult. That lioness certainly knows what the hell she's doing, and baldy too. Shame I didn't get to experience his skills firsthand, she whispered in her head, feeling a burst of sparks and pain at the concept of thought. Her claws clutched at her ragged stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding, which was sure to kill her eventually without the attentions of a qualified surgeon.  "Keep it for yourself though, girl. If that wound in your leg keeps goin' on like that, you'll bleed out in a few minutes. You need it more than I do." Kaela scrabbled to her feet, threatening to fall over several times as she finally brought herself to her feet. God, I think I'm going to throw up. The loss of vital fluids was beginning to make her dizzy and nauseous, and she would have doubled over heaving if the screaming nerves in her torso told her otherwise. "Been a while since I've taken a wound like that. Forgot how bloody terrible it is. Can you help me over here? I think I'm gonna be sick."

[Stygian]

Pointedly ignoring the green elf-thing's stare with the accustomed expertise of someone who's been mocked or feared for their appearance for a very long time and has come to a sort of grudging peace with and pride at it, the man laid a few coins of slightly odd design on the bartop. At least, considering the company he couldn't stand out that much. His eyes wandered around, searching the bar for something. Something he obviously didn't find. Smile dimming, he cleared his throat, and sat down on one of the stools, watching the fight abating in one of the rings. Idly, he slid a hand down under his coat and toward his side, where it stopped and moved subtly, just ought of sight. A few odd clicks could be heard if one listened carefully enough.
   'So,' the man said, after a silence-saturated pause. 'Does this menagerie have some sort of a tender?'

- -

There really was no way for the whispers to rise in volume or strength. They weren't really sounds, after all, but ideas. And thus their chorus was like an organ; it could only play louder by playing more intensely and possibly creating more resonance. And because there was no way for the darkness to tell what heard it, or where it cast its shadow, it could only call out more. Call out for someone in particular.
   In the end it was, of course, a lie that persisted. For natural reasons. The truth mostly blends in too much and goes down too smoothly to make an impact. And the best lies are easier to believe than truths, or at least people seem more willing to believe them. This is a tendency found not just in most humans, but all sapient beings without some ridiculous bend or heavy cultural indoctrination. There's just something about nasty falsehoods that make them so clingy and pervasive. And this particular one was very good, considering the subject matter and the target. Viciously, it coiled and suggested its way up the corridor and stairs, echoing past doors and into the bar, where it snuck into one green, pointed ear.
   I didn't mean to deceive you, Sylvie... a voice echoed somewhere in the elf's head. She felt it far more than she heard it.

[Tipod]

Bart wiped his face after Andrace's friendly licking, feeling semi-disgusted and amused. "Okay, okay, I had fun too," he said as he faced Kaela again, "but let's get priorities straight. Kaela, lean on me." He placed an arm around the wolf's shoulder, making sure he was in a nice, solid support position. "Hurts like a bitch, don't it? I'd know." He slowly began to shuffle forward, taking a steady, but somewhat hurried pace. If she bled out before they even left the circle, Bart wouldn't ever hear any stupid or funny bootcamp stories. "Just keep your hand over it, catch anything that tries to spill out."

It was almost odd how plainly he regarded her injury. "Don't worry, you'll make it. If movies taught me anything, the body holds about 40 gallons worth of blood, and you lost like two so far. You could go on for another half hour if you sat still the whole time."

[Yugo]

"Thanks," was all that Kaela managed to blurt out as she forced herself to take each step, her body failing her despite her mind's intention on going further. Come on, you're not going to give out on me now. She clutched somewhat frantically at her chest to make sure her pendant was still clasped tightly about her throat. Last thing I need is for my heart to go pitter-pat and fail when I'm bleeding to death. "I'll make sure to keep it all in, don't worry about it." The much older fighter gave Bart a sidelong glance. "You're much more likeable when I don't have to deal with any kind of competition with you." It was meant to be a compliment of course, but it was about as socially tactful as the old woman could be.

Kaela sighed briefly. She herself probably wasn't very likeable when she was threatening to take someone's balls off either. Probably why I'm still single even though I'm in my fifties. "To look like this means I've lost at least a fifth of it, although I already have low blood pressure. Just hope I don't need a transfusion or an IV." A grimace crossed her face. "I hate having things stuck into me."

[Boog]

"Just a few moments while I get the new bloke settled," Boog eyed the newcomer and looked back to Dani, "Remember Doll, all the tea in China," He winked. The girl struck him as a Doll, albeit one designed by Boris Vallejo. He swept his way over to the burned looking man with a grin particular to when he heard the sound of money and snatched the coins off the counter. "That would be me, sir, and this menagerie would be called the Honor Circle. Extrareality fight club franchise, and might I say sir you look like you might appreciate what we have to offer. Or have appreciated it in the past." Or hell, appreciated going down on a furnace, I wont judge. "How may I be of-?"
--didn't mea------cive-yo-----lyvi----
The Boogeyman cocked his head, as if hearing something odd. "... Service..."

--

Marya strolled back into the bar proper and stretched, grinning. She felt good as new. Better than she had in a while. Eyes passing over the new guy and filing him under "some other freak." She wandered over to where Richard was nursing a few drinks.
"I'm back."
"Noted. Got you a beer."
"Thanks."
"No problem. Don't get yourself that fucked up again or I'm making you rest it off in the car."
"Pfft."