A Bone to Pick (M) (IC)

[VAE]

Gorod Kur, Kebrean Gubernia
For the first time this year, the mists have lifted somewhat, and the weather is the closest it gets to sunny in this part of the Kebrean Gubernia. The nature responded in accord, with beak clicking and high-pitched chirps heard everywhere since the early hours - the swamp runners mating season slowly moving into full spin. It was nearing noon when a badger, dressed in a muddy patrolman garb and missing his cap, walked into the army stationment on the west outskirts of Gorod Kur.
"Stop, identify yourself." - a grey wolf, the higher ranking of the two men adressed him as soon as he reached the guard booth.
"Patrolmaster Kozin, estabilishment 23-B, approximately six miles south of the city. We got trouble - a mudball, maybe five metres across,  been attacking the silos, got to see the Commander 'bout giving us a paw."
"Fuck." The wolf spat onto the muddy ground. "You may pass - Hey, Ivan, don't stand there, think with your feet and and escort him."


Kallisburg, Kebrean Gubernia
The city of Kallisburg never quite sleeps, with carbon arc lamps mounted near important public buildings, and residences of more affluent citizens keeping it lit from dusk to dawn. This night, however, was somewhat brighter than usual.
"Angle it up there, Peter!  Chiir, Squirr pump faster!"
The fire engine was an older, yet reliable design, made for a crew of five firefighters - three beings and two gryphons who served both as the engine's means of transport, and the operators of the pump. Calling it primitive would be inaccurate though - under the hood, a complex array of spells replenished the water inside the cistern and maintained a constant pressure.
The captain, a middle-aged bear always with a cigarette in his maw waved a "cease" to the gryphons as the flames engulfing Kallisburg's first cinema died out, and the trio began inspecting the damage.  
"Good work boys... it'll need a new roof, but at least we won't need to tear it down. I wonder if it was a short in the wiring like at the thea-aw fuck! Look there!"
The bear aimed his finger, emitting a ray of blueish light at a section of the floor through one of the windows. There, spreading on a nearby wall was an irregular, black stain. Another firefighter, a rail-thin goat,  muttered something, and drew a symbol into the air.
"Yep, this shit was no accident.. that there used to be a bottle of alchemist's fire or three. Someone should call up lady Aliera Nact'larn, and the militia."

Derevensk, near Kallisburg, Kebrean Gubernia
The village of Derevensk was busier these days than one'd expect. A part of the reason was that the market has just about picked the nicest few days in this and last month, but the main cause was the travelling circus currently stationed on the outskirts. The colourful tents attracted the eye from afar, and the word of skillful performers, strange devices and unusual creatures soon spread like a plague - within days, people from three towns' over were coming in to look at the rare spectactle.
One visitor in particular, a mustelid of some sort, stood out somewhat to an attentive eye - dressed somewhat better than the peasants and lumberjacks, a shawl covering the lower half of his face, and army-style footwear. Moreso when the stranger's attention seemed mostly focused on the various machines and constructs,,even the vagons and tents themselves.

Vlcia Polhora, Duchy of Borovec, Ister Union
A settlement on the edge of the mountains near the Monk's Pass, Vlcia Polhora was little more than a bunch of squat houses belonging to lumberjacks and shepherds. On the east side stood a single larger building, the painted ram skull on its hanging sign informing passers-by that "U tvrdej kotrby" is a pub, guesthouse and general store. The town seemed rather quiet, not surprising given the heavy snowfall.

[Ghostwish]

A thousand possibilities, all arriving at one certainty. Every piece, every puzzle, all coming together to this one truth, which is-

"Wakey wakey, shake and bakey!" Came the ever cheery voice of Alarica.

And something along the lines of "Grmph!" was Zanfib's reply.

Zanfib Black wasn't exactly a morning person. His nights were long, and his mornings always a pain. Especially since Alarica was under strict orders not to let the Ringtail sleep in for too long, much to Mr. Black's consternation. And as the raccoon maid promptly threw the drapes wide, letting the morning light flood over the black and white furred Bassariscus astutus, he groaned and rolled the other way, grasping about blindly for a pillow to cover his head.

"Come on! Come on! Up you go!" She cheerfully continued, pulling the pillow away, thought she averted her face with the slightest hint of a blush. The young master of the household slept nude. He sighed, and lay there for a moment, gathering his thoughts and concentration. His senses extended outward from within his mind, feeling out over his house, and the other minds within. There was Alarica, being, one of his maids. slightly older than he was, and while always cheerful she secretly fretted that Zanfib would read her thoughts, and then would know that she feared that he took naughty peeks at her rear when she wasn't looking. He cracked an eye open, the violet orb swiveling over to Alarica.

Well, it was a nice ass.

He sensed Hugo downstairs. Half-demon, though it didn't show unless he needed to 'escort' someone off the property. He was more apparently an english bulldog being, always proper and polite, and always keeping tabs on any bumps in the Black reputation. Something was worrying him? Well, he was setting the breakfast table. That was reason enough to make the psion stir and sit up right. He stretched and yawned, idly scratching his chin before reaching for the long-johns that Alarica had set out.

He stood up, pulling the pajama shirt over his head on autopilot as he kept turning his senses about. Where is- ah, there she is. Maury, the angel. Lords and Ladies, did she even sleep last night? Still in there, processing and compiling and working and submitting forms and orders and letters and, gods, you'd honestly think she was in love with the printing company the way she went on. Oh well, that was what a good secretary was for, but Zanfib thought to himself that perhaps he should persuade her to take a vacation. Or sleep in his bed. Those two trains of thought battled it out as Zanfib started his day, one leg at a time. He turned around and looked over at Alarica, who appeared to be busying herself dusting in the corner, but Zanfib saw through that facade. She didn't want to look at him in the nude, and had been waiting for him to finish dressing. Silly shy girl.

"So what's waiting for me this morn?" Zanfib asked, idly stretching. Heh, a hesitant peek from the raccoon, how cute. "Ah! Well, Sir Hugo seemed to be fussing about something or another, I believe he has the news for you?" She said quickly. Was she really that worried he'd make a pass at her? Zanfib couldn't help but smirk at the thought. "Allright then." He said simply, and strode out in his slippers.

He made his way through the manor, and headed downstairs to the indoor patio in the back of the house, a stone's throw from the kitchen, where Hugo was setting the table and setting out his breakfast. "Ah, good morning, Master Black!" The tall, tall bulldog said, turning and offering a quick, short bow. "Morning Hugo." Zanfib managed after a strong yawn, before he sat down and begin to pick about at his breakfast. "Alarica said something about a bit of a fuss?" He asked, munching on a bit of toast. "Ah, you might wish to finish your morning meal before trying to digest the latest news, Master Black." Hugo said promptly. Zanfib paused a bit, giving the smiling bulldog a look. He was usually so straightforward with business, but he shrugged, and finished his meal. That's when Zanfib was handed the letter, in lettering he instantly recognized as Lady Aliera. He smirked slightly, thinking of her, and read the letter, only vaguely noting that Hugo was setting out his suit, hat and cane already.

It was a good thing he had finished eating, or Zanfib would have likely choked. "What!?" He exclaimed, reading the letter again, as if there was some faint chance he had misread it. "Terrible business, sir. It apparently happened not a great deal long ago." Hugo said, already moving to help Zanfib dress, and quickly. "Of all the-.. who would dare do such a thing!?" Zanfib mused angerly as he donned his jacket and hat, and headed outside. Hugo had even gotten his car ready, and Zanfib smiled that at least someone could predict him. He quickly got into the driver's seat, and started it up, quickly heading off and down the driveway, and off to the cinema..

[rammenstein]

It was a beautiful day, the sun beat down.

The fox hummed to himself as he flipped through a small packet of papers; a briefing packet, to inform newcomers of what to expect on this particular front. The command tent was rather a bit larger than the rest, and better ventilated. Now, normally he would have been made to attend a mass briefing, along with all the other new arrivals. However, he had been called in as a specialist and expert in his field, and had thus been pulled in to be briefed directly by the commander.

His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose slightly, and he pushed them back up with a single calloused finger. His legs, clothed in simple camo-patterned cargo pants bloused over heavy-duty combat boots, were slightly crossed, his right ankle resting on his left knee. The sleeveless shirt on his torso was of a similar pattern, allowing him to proudly show the marking on his left bicep. His dog tags rested lightly over his shirt, and his stark white headfur contrasted sharply with his much darker bodyfur.

He had just about finished up with the packet when the commander strode out of his office; a small section of the tent walled off by fabric hanging from the ceiling. As he made his way towards the new arrival, the fox stood from his chair and snapped to attention. He did not render a salute, given as they were indoors and it was thus not required. He did, however, introduce himself.

"Sir, Warrant Officer Jaes Straken reporting for duty!"

[Tipod]

It happened again: another feral mudkin had reared its ugly head.

Oyugun rumbled in dismay at the thought. Ever since these two-legs came along, dumping their garbage and corpses, burning and slashing, turning the once-beautiful earth into something uniform and sterile... these things used to come on rare and manageable occasions. Now, it seemed like mudmen were getting so upset by the encroachment that they would happily submit to hulking insanity if it meant getting back at these meatpeople. The only problem with that little plan was once they lost their minds, they couldn't very well differentiate friend from foe, much less direct their fury in the right places. Trusting to luck wasn't a viable strategy against such an organized opponent.

But Oyugun couldn't think in those terms anymore. As the only earthkin willing to slither out of the marshes and actually talk to these people, he had to plead as best he could for these people to stop and leave the Bogs alone, to treat them as sentients who could be reasoned with.

In the back of his head, he knew better than that. These creatures were petty and vindictive. If he got their coats dirty they would probably burn him alive.

Big smiles. Use the front door. He slid towards the inner-city, sure to take the main road and make himself be known. There was no need for subtleties anymore.

[littlekreen]

Duties called loud enough today three caravan carts forming Fergus's workshop looked shouted apart inside. Around them few patrons walked through this calm portion of circus so things walking away wasn't as bad. That portion at least could be roped off near worker supplies. Though so much of the worker's troubles needed fixing that today the pack Fergus lifted off the floor checked chock full but there were straps still to use. His last duty took him to repair cook stoves with leaky handles though loose wiring left his digits a little numb. Some cleaning and medical care later he was ready to leave these three carts again to work.

Red furred hands rub together in absent preparation as singe marks up his wrist shot pain in complaint of more work. There was work to do anyway; he ignored the burning scour. Along the floor he looks where larger tools should be as his next task needed a sledge found reflected in polished steel mirror leaning against a desk. It then reflected there, if in its fun-house warp, a grotesquely dwarfish gryphon set to work with green-dye vines climbing his body to black rose outlines dyed around his face and painted red onto his beak. He lifted hard wood handle then slid it into a harness. The tool needed pounding on a new regulator he'd just finished refurbishing which also needed to be added.

Springs and spars in separate piles of varied condition littered one work desk in similar likeness to his scattered efforts today. Atop it was an elongated steam regulator for the swing carousel. One of the balls on motor's regulator kept getting loose spinning the ride a little fast. Not that the kids cared but it wasn't good to let it go on even if he did make sure it stayed put till he got there later on. The large brass ball regulator was attached to the other side of his pack with the last two straps.

Fergus sat down in front of the pack an hefted the chest strap on with a tug and lunge forward to four legs up. Weight was pleasing it made the muscles burn complaints but he was as strong as long years of endless punishment had made him. Fur erratic from as much scarring as work-hardening was clamped over after threading underneath. Each step creaking the floorboards felt like the fat man following him but it didn't feel like good work without him.

Fergus headed out through lines and between carts as workers there do as well and there's a number of waves to him from barkers at their stalls. Racing full speed along despite the heavy load that wanted to drive him into a furry crater he kept from smashing into patrons from taking the carny-paths carefully spaced between the stalls. Jingling loudly as his tight pack went about some windows opened into the alley as everyone knew what that particular sound meant and liked to watch the spectacle of rattling tools.

"Hey Fergus! Emery says she needs you to look at a organ!", comes from the path by huge bear geared in clown and cleaver with a menacing dye to match.

"I'll look.. at her.. next! Thanks!", came rushed response in between breaths stolen from lifts in a shifting load.

"Control the breath, breathe out the unmoral, breathe in purity.", came the old mantra as he sailed blasting-breath on across path of startled circusgoers grinding to a stop. His eyes stopped on one lacking a degree of frivolity which pounded a divot in the earth with the force to enable his stare. He could hear the boorish voice in his head yelling abuses of warning just looking at the jackboot. Fergus made a mental note to have someone keep an eye on the out of place jackboot lingering for a moment before sidling off in the opposing carny path between trailers toward the rising tornado of chairs just off in the distance.

Edit: Spalling checker misses concrete errors sometimes... also minor grammar twiddling.

[AmberCross]

Christopher landed by the edge of the town and soon made his way to U Trydej Kotrby which was apparently... a bar. As he made his way inside and to the counter, an unskilled eye might mark him of demon blood and not to be trifled with lightly. With his heavy fur coat, he had no need of a jacket and made no use of any sort of concealing devices. That combined with his wings meant he was probably either secure in the knowledge that he could wipe the floor with anyone who tried to cause trouble... or that he was overconfident as well as incompetent. The two are often surprisingly difficult to tell apart, but the experienced often notice those who are confident are usually quiet about it. Except when they're not.

Too much second guessing can make a fellow thirsty and it's not something often practiced by folk in a bar (unless it's the bartender but that's a whole nother story) and speaking of which, Chris sat down at the bar and ordered himself a drink. The crossing would doubtless be long and semi-perilous with much traveling, some fighting, some sneaking, and perhaps even a bit of outright running if he wasn't very careful. Still, that day was not yet today and Chris was happy to spend one last day in so called civilization before setting off in the morn. He requested a room to stay at for the night and went straight upstairs. A few ice wedges and a ward on the window to ensure his privacy, and he lay down for sleep. Tomorrow was the start of a long journey...

[VAE]

Kallisburg.

The gryphonless carriage was a marvel of modern engineering. A light ironwood frame holding a coal powder-fired stirling engine, with a number of probability-altering spells that kept most of the combustor just mildly warm to touch. The air entering through the front grille was similarly separated into two streams - the first, about twenty degrees cooler than the surroundings, cooled the cold side, and a second, a few degrees warmer, that was further warmed up by the twisty exhaust gas pipeline,carried the coal dust into the combustion chamber. An ornate cabin with golden inlays, two leather seats, and a sizeable trunk, a speed of over twelve miles per hour, and a range of about ninety for a filling, it shouted money in the face of anyone passing by. The only small disadvantage was that the engine needed about a quarter-hour to warm up, which was especially annoying in situations like this one.
Today Zanfib was quite lucky - Hugo has anticipated his need for transport, and when Zanfib approached the vehicle, the carriage was running with a quiet chug-chug of the coaxial pistons. A few minutes later, and he had left the mansion behind, rushing through the uneven streets. About half an hour, and three quarters of a collision later, the ringtail arrived at the site of Kebre's first movie theater, the structure's charred roof still steaming. Nearby stood a fire engine, the five firemen and two wolfdogs in militia uniform, all of them staring in his direction.
"Nice upholstery." A familiar soft voice next to him, and a touch of feathers on his shoulders suggested that Lady Aliera had decided to waste no time by such mundane activities as walking towards him.
"I take it you got the news? Took you long enough.. the theatre's pretty much ruined, but if we're lucky, the equipment in the basement could have survived, thanks to the boys here." The panthress nodded towards the group, and looking closer, Zanfib could tell that every fireman was holding something resembling a member pass to Clan Nact'larn's Temple of Pleasure.  



Gorod Kur


The increasing number of patches of land full of seedlings or even full growths of unfamiliar grasses and plants, usually arranged in a somewhat regular pattern, and even a cottage here or there suggested, that the city of Gorod Kur lies in Oygun's general direction.  Especially since asking for directions wasn't really an option -  the single furre, a bovine farmer he met likely on the way to his plot just clutched his axe harder, and proceeded to not quite subtly angle away from the mudman.
However, the most unsubtle thing met him an hour or so later, about eighty feet off his path. What used to be a growth of willows was now a pile of wood with a thick layer of mud caked on. Two of the trees lay uprooted while the third had its trunk split lengthways, one of the halves still standing somewhat, the other broken at soil-level. A few feet to the right, a flock of swamp runners busily pecked at something resembling a corpse.

* * *


Bloody northerners, it's cold as fuck and... hmm, new combat dress pants... looks like those fucks up at Oriss finally realised what camo means. The old pattern stood out in the marshes like a dick in a nunnery.
"At ease!" The commander, a tall, short-furred cat with rather large ears and an eyepatch extended his paw towards Jaes. "Welcome on board, Warrant Officer. As you can see ,the place's a bit of a muddy arse, but what can we do. By the way, I'm Captain Ante Draganovic." The commander stopped for a moment, and looked Jaes over. "Now, service at the Gorod Kur Permanent Army Detachment might not seem quite as prestigious as, say, blowing up the pirates over at Fort Solig or Fort Kagan, or as easy as catching smugglers on the border with Kingdom of HollyAnn, but it isn't without benefit. For one, there's two days extra leave per month, never mind the pay rise. For two - the fact that this is a busy place has a good side in that you'll have quite a lot of opportunity to show there isn't a pile of straw under your cap. " The cat took out a pack of tobacco, and made himself a cigarette, sparking the fire with his claw. "Now, as for the reason why you aren't hearing all of this from someone who isn't me with the other transfers. Our detachment is an everything bitch, but the main duties are aiding the militia maintain public order, help them and the spooks out on the occassional raid, keep a perimeter around the outer city, and deal with hostile wildlife. The last bit is where you come in. See, what passes for wildlife here includes living piles of mud, and the smallest gun that does anything to those is a 3-lb. howitzer.  As such we're forming a platoon to deal with this sort of thing specifically, with you being in command of one of the squads - two soldiers armed with grenades, and two, usually gryphons in charge of a mobile howitzer . You'll be reporting to Lieutenant Boris Ivanov, who is to arrive in about an hour. Any questions?"


Vlcia Polhora

The bar was rather empty at this time of day. In one corner, an old-looking lynx smoked a pipe, resting his elbow on an ornate shepherd's axe,  while on a table center, a bear and two slovak cuvacs played cards, all three dressed in heavy sheepskin coats. The bartender, a short, stout ram, was cleaning glasses. Behind him, an ornate sign saying "Kibitz hold your breath, or you won't hold your teeth.", a shelf with glassware and a blunderbuss.
Chris's arrival was met by a combined glare that would make a donkey sweat. The bartender acknowledged his request with a nod, and poured him a glass of juniper brandy. The request for a living space was met with a sigh, and a few equally laconic grunts, namely "forty-five kopecks, take or leave." and "second door upstairs."
There was little in the room besides a bed with a straw mattress, an old, somewhat moldy-smelling chest, and a window, presently barred with planks about half an inch thick. At least the covers and cushion  were relatively clean and thick. Some noise was coming from the downstairs bar for an hour or two after the leopard retreated, but soon enough, it died down with footsteps going upstairs. The night was quiet and clear.
It might have been early morning when Chris was woken by a smash that ringed in his ears, followed by "Whore it's mother! Fuck!" coming from the nearby room.  

Derevensk

The cause of the problem with the governor was rather obvious and boring - grime accumulating in the grease of the valve have caused it to never quite close up,making it spin substantially faster than expected. The damaged ball arm, on the other paw, appeared to be the result of one of the operators whacking it with a wrench or somesuch in an effort to get it to rise as proper - a classic case of cure being worse than the disease.  But that was all dealt with, and the whole regulator assembly was now ready to be mounted back in... if only it wasn't so damn heavy.
It was sheer luck Fergus didn't knock someone out while hauling it around, or in fact himself when passing through the swing's supports and near the engine, also located underneath - the torque from the engine unit was transferred to the swing's gearset by a chain transmission, which had to be kept reasonably short. From then on, it was the work of roughly an hour to mount the governor, fire up the engine, and do a general check to make sure there are no leaks, or jams.
The gryphon was just about ready to turn the ride's engine off, when he noticed someone watching him from the other side, resting on the support frame with one foot on low-running horizontal beam.

[Ghostwish]

Zanfib had kept the gryphonless carriage chugging along, and made liberal use of the horn as well, as many folks were not yet used to reacting to the steady, wispy, hissing of the carriage's stirling engine. Three-quarters of a collision was putting it liberally. Zanfib had to practically push through traffic in his rush to get to the theater.

When he got there, he cut the engine down to a simmer, pulled the parking brake and put the three-geared transmission in neutral, before hopping out of the carriage, and surveying the damage.  He hissed a quiet curse at the smoke trailing off the destroyed roof, and then glanced over at the onlookers, the firemen and the militia. Zanfib quietly hoped they did not know who he was, but it was a vain and naive hope at the very least. He just rolled up looking like a million gold rubles, and his reputation was particularly strong in this scenario. Anywhere else, and he could have likely passed as an affluent being with a strange coloration, but here? Right at the ruins of the showplace of naughty and lust? He might as well have had a stack of his books handed out.

But, as he was pondering on that, he sensed a familiar mind, and smirked lightly as he felt the feathery brush. Well, at least something was going right. "A pardon, Lady Aliera." He said as he looked over with a smile, "Much of the rabble on the roads has yet to come to respect the gryphonless carriage. It makes maneuvers and swift travel difficult, at best." He said, and then glanced back to the assembly, his identity very much confirmed by the presence of the succubus. He noted their latest acquisitions, which renewed his smirk as his thoughts drifted to his own, executive level pass. "I see our valiant heroes have been amply rewarded then." He said as he looked back to her again. "I suppose it is safe for us to survey the damage for ourselves? I could perhaps check for the equipment myself. But, perhaps even more pressing, do we have any leads as to what-" He started, and then stopped, quickly heeding the thoughts drifting about. "Alchemist's fire! Very well then. The topic shifts to who is responsible for this." He says. "Any ideas or leads, mi'lady?"

[rammenstein]

At the command of "at ease," Jaes visibly relaxed. He let his arms go slack and rolled his shoulders; they had gotten a little stiff from sitting in that chair. The fox took his new commander's hand, giving it a firm shake as he smiled kindly at the cat. He nodded slightly as he was briefed, most of what the commander was going over had been contained in the packet he had just finished reading. He had known from the word 'go' that this wasn't necessarily the best assignment available. That didn't matter to him, though. Jaes Straken went where he was needed, no matter the conditions.

The Warrent Officer's ears perked up at the mention of his own command; this was the important part, the reason he had been specifically requested for this assignment. His knowledge of mundane ordnance, along with his own less ordinary abilities, made him just the fox for the job, something he had every intention of proving. Jaes would approach this campaign with the same level of effort that had allowed him to excel in his area of expertise.

"Just one, sir. When do I get started?"

[Tipod]

Some days Oyugun wished these bumpkins would try something. He'd show them just how unpleasant he could be, especially when being treated like an outsider in his own homeland. As though all this foreign flora didn't upset him already. Soon enough some younger earthkin would probably burrow through and screw everything up for the farmhands.

If only I could see the look on their faces when it happens.

But his heart softened a little at the sight of the grim and muddy melee. Great, the creature must have been lurking around here, and it caught some poor bastard by surprise. Probably a woodsman or something. With a sigh, he slithered towards the soiled carcass, whiplike arms lashing to shoo the runners away. "Go on," he rumbled, "beat it! Go!" As much as he hated these people, the thought of them dying in such ruthless fashion saddened him. The least he could do was close the poor corpse's eyes. Assuming they hadn't already been pecked out.

[littlekreen]

Fergus was on his haunches turning the engine off. Handle-clamps were next to come off from his sledge when Fergus saw two eyes peering at him. Circus goers weren't likely to get near the whirling metal machines when the operators didn't look active. One click of a key and the engine wound down. Instead of taking the handles off Fergus thunked down his sledge head to haul himself up. Bent-kneed and hunched further upright his frame and muscles complained. Contortionists helped him to be flexible enough. Mechanical leverage is poorly served sitting down. Fergus could hear the fat man wanting to hit such ornery patrons on his own two feet. Once bent up Fergus's wings listed downward. They were tethered down where the two large packages once were.

The gryphon felt and looked grimy. Fergus called out to those two peering eyes, "I'm done fixing the motor so if you want a ride on the swings you'll have to wait until it's fueled up again. Then if you're good I'll even give you a candy!"

The spotted black head of a leatherback manning the ride stands then goes away to get to fueling.

[AmberCross]

Chris awoke with a start, scrambling at the covers. Were he a regular fellow he would have dismissed it as nothing and waited for it to go away. But Chris was no ordinary fellow, he was an adventurer! And also a cubi, but since he hadn't gotten his wings yet that was probably not relevant. Regardless, an adventurer always assumes that there is something going down, so he sprang into action leaping from the bed, drawing his weapon hilt, shattering the ice blocks at the door, and quickly located the commotion as he manifested two swords out of ice. The first was with the hilt and was a dark blue, almost black. It was strong enough for direct attacks and clashes and he wielded it with his right arm, the stronger one. His left arm was not as strong, but it was also faster so for that hand he made a regular ice sword, light blue and nearly white/clear, which would probably break if it hit something too hard but was good for parrying and striking unarmored parts. He cleared the stairs, controlling his fall by a flare of his wings at the end and sliding to face the main room looking for whatever caused the commotion. And, just because he really wasn't very good at this... he called out, "Who's there?!" which both alerted anyone downstairs to his presence and possibly also would wake up more irritable people upstairs. Plus, no one ever answers that question when they're up to no good so it was kind of silly anyway. Oh, and he also landed in a cool pose that was not actually combat ready.

[Meany]

Kallisburg

A soft breeze marked Lady Aliera's short teleportation outside to Zanfib's side.  "The building is damn near condemned, according to their chief.  But this is neither horseshoes, nor hand grenades, so almost doesn't apply.  Come with me, we're going to go see how badly damaged the projector is, then check on the storage."  The woman started off, using her tentacles to clear away debris from their path, and sending a crude psionic message to Zanfib while not answering his last question.

No leads yet.  I don't wish to announce it, if the perp is still watching.

If any of the firemen noticed Zanfib's presence as the two moved through the building, none mentioned it; too busy were they doing their various tasks.  The steps to the projector room still had a bit of shine, and minimal soot, evidently the fire had not lingered here.  The projector room was relatively intact, a huge segment of the wall collapsed down into what would have been the auditorium, but only scorch marks beyond that

The lady stooped to inspect the massive projector, moving parts, removing melted film, lifting her tail so as not to drag on the sooty floor...

A soft crunching noise came to Zanfib's massive ears.  Down in the auditorium, part of the wall had collapsed, where many firemen had earlier been seen entering and exiting.  Now, there stood a woman.  A white furred feline, with flowing black hair, a sleek black dress which left her shoulders and displayed significant cleavage, as well as long evening gloves.  About her neck, she wore a white silk scarf edged in orange.  She smiled at Zanfib, showing blood red eyes, and stretched out a hand as if to wave.

But instead, her hand sprouted long claws from her finger tips, which raced through the air between her and the projector room in a second.  With unfathomable strength, they pierced the wood, cut through the ceiling, put a new hole in the projector, and even grazed the Lady across one of her wings.  Just as Aliera was reacting to the wound and the noise, the claws withdrew, and the room shook.

The floor crumbled, the projector fell, and so did Aliera and Zanfib.  The ringtail had the honor of seeing the entire front end of the building falling backward, as a coffin lid would fall upon a corpse, before a searing pain forced him unconscious.

When Zanfib would awake, he would be looking at the clear blue sky, the sun moving toward an eleven o'clock position, and in a hole.  His head would be in pain, but not affecting his psionics, and otherwise he would appear unhurt.  The projector, and a fair bit of the wall would be to his side, moving in jerks, with Aliera's voice coming from within.  Evidently, she refused to stay dead.  For how could they have survived such a fall?

Regardless, once again Zanfib's magnificent ears would warn him of danger, as he heard a scuffling of many bodies across the floor, squeaks as if from large rodents, and the familiar crackle of fire.

Derevensk

Fergus would notice that the figure seemed to blur with each blink of his eye, until it was vanished from his sight.  A breeze would pick up, bringing a strange smell of iron to him.  His latent gryphon instincts immediately informed him that smell was blood.  The noise from the rest of the carnival seemed to fade, as the world beyond the ride he was repairing seemed to blur rapidly.  The wind shifted, and the smell of blood became more potent.  A figure would come into Fergus' sight then.

An elk man, in a fancy suit, with strangely sharp and protruding teeth.  A filmy eye swirls in it's socket, locking upon Fergus, and the figure turns, facing the gryphon.

In some animalistic part of Fergus' mind, the part that would always long to fly and hunt prey, a word came forward, as if bidden.

Wendigo.

Gorod Kur

"As soon as Ivanov's here to take command.  In the meantime, you should get at least a passing familiarity with your squad," the cat was interrupted by a mouse being scurrying up to him and passing off a letter, then retreating without a word.  "Oh, it looks like your commander has arrived ahead of schedule.  Follow me."  Captain Draganovic didn't bother to look back at Jaes as he briskly moved through the fort, to a rather large disk of packed earth.  Signs in the area declared it to be the landing zone for teleportations, and to stand clear.

For a long moment nothing happened.  Then runes lit up along the disk, and a red ball of lightning manifested in it's center.  The ball quickly expanded and dissipated into the air, leaving a strange black creature with a red aura floating in the air, alongside what had to be Ivanov.

A physically massive bear, pushing past eight feet in height.  The standard officer's uniform of drab pants and jacket, with high boots and a flat cap, and some customization.  The standard officer's allowance of two pistols, and an oiled coat for the climate, but the most noteworthy thing about him was the massive staff-like mace he held in one hand.  The segment to be used as a grip matched him for height, and the business end looked to be made of blunt black caltrops, the size of Ivanov's head, stacked atop each other for another two feet.  They also seemed to be rotating at different speeds for each caltrop.

"Lieutenant Boris Ivanov reporting for duty, sir."  The bear's voice was alarmingly dissonant to his huge body, soft and not unlike a woman's.  Captain Draganovic's eyebrows strained to escape his forehead at the sound of it.

"At ease, Lieutenant.  You have your orders, the both of you.  Get to garage twenty-eight, and inform your team that with your new arrival, I'll expect you to sortie within fifteen minutes.  Dismissed."

* * *
The corpse was dressed in oiled garments, to repel the grime of the swamp.  Some form of deer species, Oyugun could identify.  Face down in the mire, the back of the head had been pecked off, revealing it to be nothing but a deer's skin, over what the mudman could instantly identify as moist clay.

If Oyugun bothered to inspect it, the so called corpse had no identifying markers, and shattered bits of gemstone floated around in the clay that was it's innards.  The skin had been broken in many spots along the body, and clay slowly leaked out from those wounds.  Runners moved about just in Oyugun's visual range, waiting for him to leave the body for them to peck at again.

[littlekreen]

Fergus could have gone many more years without knowing what that smell was. That the scent wasn't from one ragged bonesaw in his memories didn't matter much. That memory still made Fergus clench on his tongue to fend off what the smell of blood called forth. One bit of learning from those days long ago found its way into his consciousness from the foggy recollection of that word "Wendigo". Never anger the butcher or let him see you partaking of his cuts.

The well-tenderized young animal remembering the word wanted to run. The fat man in his way couldn't run and wouldn't want to. Fergus's reflexes were caught between the two instincts for a moment as the fat man won with his cooked fingers. The animal that ran just got eaten slightly later. Fergus stood his ground with narrowed eyes and twitching tail.

One hand off the sledge Fergus rubbed one eye and continued at the strange predator all the good humor drained, "If you don't want the candy you're out of luck. The only other place I know with anything else burnt down a long time ago and you won't get it around here. Or is there something else you want, Mister?"

[Ghostwish]

Not exactly what one planned in their daily routine, now was it?

Zanfib had been idly picking through the ruins when the strange feline showed up. He was immediately on alert, but simply not quick enough to act. While she had a nice set, she had no place being there, but she was quicker than the being. A roll of the dice that resulted in a series of unfortunate events.

Oh joyful day. Came that ever sarcastic internal monologue, the first to greet Zanfib as he snapped back to consciousness. Mental training from his psionic tutelage helped his brain recover at a quick pace, but couldn't do anything about the headache. It seems that there is never an answer to that.

Regardless, he got up, only pausing to sniff disdainfully at his expensive, damaged clothing, and quickly assessed the situation. A hostile, right. He strengthened his ever-present mental defenses, and erected his inertial shields around him, compressed energy forming a barrier between his person and that which would do him harm. At this point he wanted to hunt down that feline, the offender responsible for all this damage to the cinema and especially to his ego, and show them what melting brains smells like. But, something else was much higher on his priority list, and that was Lady Aliera. Nact'Larn, along with his mentor, was the only family he had ever known, and for all his stubborn, insufferable arrogance, Zanfib was loyal. So for now he set a section of his psionic senses to watch for that feline, and scan for whatever squeaking menace was headed there way, and headed towards the trapped succubus.

Now, this is a chance to point out some of the difficulties that differ between mage and psion. A mage might have difficulty hefty the heavy projector and wall and debris, having to resort to some rather powerful magic to heft the bulk out of the way, but a psion? Nothing of the sort. Zanfib nearly effortless hefted Lady Aliera's make-shift prison off of her, and thoughtlessly tossed it aside, sending it to the ground with a crash and a clatter.. He didn't care for the damage done to the projector. At this stage, he had marked the cinema as a loss, and the life of one of Nact'Larn's daughters as far more valuable.

And the fire? An ease and a trifle for a magic to summon a quantity of water to douse. But a psion? All that kinetic energy, all that matter transforming and changing and shaping, it would be a doozy for a psion to lock onto its energy signature, and snuff it out. To tell the truth, it would be far easier to just crush the rubble down on it and snuff it out. That, however, was not an option at this stage, and with his mind primed and prepped for a conflict, he could not spare the focus needed to snuff the flames, a feat which might have been out of his league regardless.

Aliera, we need to leave, now. Came a much sharper psionic message into the succubus' mind, as the being knelt down to help her up. That, however, is when it occurred to him that the entire front half of the cinema had just fallen on top of them.. and yet there was an open sky. This brought what could perhaps be considered a belated alarm to the ringtail's mind, and he quickly looked skyward, relying on his psionic senses to keep tabs on the more apparent threats, while his mundane, physical means looked for an explanation to this unusual new development amidst a sea of unusual, new developments.

[VAE]

Vlcia Polhora

There are times when the best thing one can do is abandon all caution and leap head-first into battle, catching the other side off-guard and out of concept. This however, as Chris found out while still in air, wasn't one of them, for a couple of good reasons - the first of such being the utter lack of foes in the pub below.
The second reason became apparent as soon the snow leaopard landed, and instead of coming to a point stop, ready to strike, or at least looking like it, he carried on, sliding like soaped up lightning on what appeared to be an unusually cold and shiny floorboards, hitting an already battered cupboard lying on the floor like a flail hits a knot of wheat.
Extricating himself from what was now a pile of kindling, and standing up with the aid of his swords, the reason for the cupboard's presence became obvious - someone had used it as a makeshift barricade, the success of such an endeavour pointedly shown by the torn-out door lying just a foot off from where he stood.
On the other paw, the windows seemed to remain closed firm, blocked from opening by clever use of tables and stools. Not like it mattered - the floor, and as he soon found out, just about every surface of the pub was covered in an layer of ice approximately half an inch thick. The outside didn't look much better - out through the door, he could see the snow has thickened considerably since yesterday evening, and the wind took down a couple of trees.
The wind.
Despite the door-shaped hole, gaping into the sleeping world like the maw of one yawning during holy mass, and the slate of ice making his paws somewhat nippy, the air was still, warm, and still carried a hint of tobacco and yesterday's cooking.
Before he could make any sense of it, the familiar sound of cursing, and the stairs creaking under heavy footsteps hit the feline's ears, and soon enough, someone resembling the owner of the tavern showed up at the stairway's upper end, the blunerbuss in his paws.
"Oskar, fuck your mother,I told him she'll blow in.. hell, I hope the bot-" The ram descended low enough to notice Chris, standing in the middle of what mess the pub had become, with two swords still in his paws and not much else, a sight which for a moment, took his breath away.
"Saint Ilja's wing in my arse, what the fuck are you doing here!? "  

[AmberCross]

Upon landing on the floor, Chris quickly realized that there was no one actually down here. Upon sliding across the floor with arms flailing, Chris quickly realized that the floor was made of ice. Upon crashing into cupboard in an undignified manner, Chris quickly realized that this really wasn't working very well. As he picked himself out of the remains of what might have been a sturdy piece of furniture many years ago, he noticed a couple of things that didn't add up. The first was that despite there being half an inch of ice everywhere, there hadn't been nearly enough moisture in the air for that to happen since he went to bed no matter how cold it had gotten. The second thing he noticed, which really would have been the first if he didn't specialize in ice magic, was that it actually was not that cold out. Not only could this not have happened naturally and must therefore be magical and thus likely instantaneous, but it could not have happened very long ago or it would be much colder in here.

Actually, in retrospect maybe that should have been obvious from other things. Common sense said that the room must have frozen over at the same time the door was ripped off, or blown off rather since the door was inside. Who or what would have done this, let alone COULD have done this completely escaped him at the time, but with how much time had passed, they couldn't have gone far. It was then that Chris heard a voice by the top of the stairs and turned to face the potential threat with swords raised. It was about that point where he noticed that he wasn't actually wearing anything.

Unsurprisingly, he suddenly found himself wishing that he knew how to make clothing out of his wings like a lot of other people in his family could, but he wouldn't be able to learn that until his headwings came in and that didn't seem to want to happen even though he did use a lot of magic. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if maybe there wasn't something wrong with him or he was just a being. Nevertheless, this was not the time to go over old self doubts and Chris still had a situation to deal with. It was too late to do anything about it now, but he recalled that his cousin Joseph frequently got caught in situations like this and despite being able to make clothes, he would pretend that is was on purpose and went on the verbal offensive to distract whoever caught him in whatever embarrassing spot. Chris decided to take a page from his book.

"I *am* standing. I *was* sleeping. Is this how you treat every guest who stays here or just the ones who actually react when it sounds like you've been broken into? Speaking of which, have you noticed your barroom is auditioning to be an ice skating rink?" Chris punctuated this last question by gesturing to the ice, the open door, and really just the general affair of things with his left hand that was still holding a sword while keeping mindful of something attacking. At this point he was starting to come under the impression that it was just the wind (albeit a magical, insanely powerful, vindictive wind), but taking chances just seemed like a stupid thing to do.

[Tipod]

What in the world...?

No blood or entrails. This wasn't a dead person, this was some kind of stuffed deerskin dummy. The only thing more disturbing was thinking of what the original owner of this hide now looked like.

"...hello? Can you hear me?" If this was a fellow kinsman, he had some explaining to do. Oyugun tried to roll the faux-carcass on its back and felt it carefully for any remaining bones or skeletal structure, almost dreading what it would look like face-up.

[rammenstein]

Mmm, it's always nice when you don't have to wait. Jaes nodded, following behind the commander as he was lead to the teleportation landing zone, dropping his briefing packet on a nearby table as they left; he'd gathered everything he needed from it, after all. The warrant officer's steps were crisp, his motions fluid and his strides bigger than one would expect from someone of his size. He stopped on the commander's left when they arrived, as was custom for one of lower rank when standing by one of higher rank. He watched as the runes lit up, having more than a passing familiarity with the magic driving the teleportation. He was not quite capable of it himself, as his magical expertise was in a very different area, but he had studied it somewhat.

Jaes looked up...and up...and up, until he was finally looking into the face of his...rather impressively sized superior. The officer was of great stature, as was expected of a bear. If the fox had been another being, he would have possibly been intimidated. Years of military service had hardened him somewhat, however, and he merely gazed at the bear.

Not to mention, his own mother was far more impressive. Though, the bear's staggering vocal dissonance gave him a moment's pause.

Jaes snapped to attention once again when they were dismissed, and snapped a salute to the LT once their commander had left. "Sir, Warrant Officer Jaes Straken reporting for duty!"

[VAE]

Kallisburg
Heaving the misshapen projector aside revealed the panthress neatly pressed into what used to be carpetting, the planks underneath giving way to the impact.
Thanks, I was starting to get bored down there.
She grinned at Zanfib, and grabbed his arm with both paws, standing up.
"Allright, time to find where the mason left a hole. Ali! Get us out of here! Quick!"
The words were accompanied by a low-power psionic signal, and within a few seconds, an azure-trimmed warp-aci appeared...
Only to be pounced at by what appeared to be a small living fireball.
"Look at 'em, Zib, what a warm welcome."
Quicker than the ringtail could notice, one of the lady's wings formed a tentacle, grabbing the creature off the warp-aci, and smashing it onto a brick's edge. The fire ceased moving, its rat-like outline now more obvious.
"Ali, I said quick!"
The 'aci finally began to orbit the hapless pair of investigators, gaining speed...

A few moments later Zanfib felt the pavement cubes under his paws, and as his eyes accomodated to the sunshine, the outline of the cinema, fire engine, and several figures became visible... accompanied by an unfortunately familiar noise from his left. There, in a gap betwen two houses, Aliera was engaging in a rather unladylike activity,bent over and supported by two of the wing tentacles, her tail jerking with every stomach convulsion. The fur on the back of her head, and left shoulder was soaked with blood, slowly dripping across her arm to the pavement.
What are you staring at? And put up your mindshield, dummy!

Gorod Kur
"At ease, Warrant Officer.. Straken, is it? Not a local surname... Follow me."
The bear set off, walking in long, precise strides to one of the few masonry buildings on site, with Г-28 painted on the door with whitewash. He laid his paw on the door, nodded, then proceeded to open them. "As a squad leader, the platoon armoury passcode is 'Veldun-style rat pelmeni' - you need to say it while touching the door here" - he pointed at a place between the handle and the "leg" of the letter, noticeably worn compared to the rest of the metal. "I thought of making it something easy for you to remember."
Straight from the door, Jaes could see two carriages, each mounting a howitzer, occupying the centre of the room, as well as six figures - two gryphons chatting with a heavily furred canine, dressed much like Jaes, a wolf, looking at his pocketwatch, and a badger chatting with an eagle.
"Squad A-ttention!"
The group turned towards the lieutenant, and arranged themselves in a neat line. The wolf took two steps forward.
"I report that the members of second squad of fourteenth platoon of the Gorod Kur Permanent Army Detachment are present in full count, and have been briefed with regards to the situation and task at hand. Patrolmaster Kozin is also present, and has agreed to accompany the squad."
"At ease. Squad, this is Warrant Officer Straken, replacing Feldwebel Gavrilov as your squad leader.Feldwebel Gavrilov," The wolf's ears perked up with anticipation - "you shall accompany Warrant Officer Straken, ensuring the situation is dealt with in case he has any difficulty." - and they drooped again. "Sortie at the warp beacon in ten minutes. Dismissed."  

                                                                      *  *  *

Turning the body around caused clay fragments of varying size to break off from the bulk of the corpse's mass. The left paw necked and tore off entirely at about wrist level, staying attached to something lodged in the mud.
Not much remained that would allow this entity to pass off as a furre - torn clothing leaked a mixture of mud and clay, and the face was a mess of skin scraps beaten into the grey bulk, the imprinted pattern and fragments of bark on the surface readily suggesting the nearby trees as unwilling aides to the perpetrator.
As the remains settled into the soil, the mass of filthy clay forming the head began to twitch and ooze, two misshapen maws emerging from what might have once been forehead - the right one was all but blocked by a large, malformed tongue while the right one revealed rows upon rows of decidedly unmooselike teeth.


Derevensk
The elk stood still, his eyes appearing to stare through Fergus moreso than at him, a vaguely confused look on its face. From the front, his body appeared out of proportion, the chest stretching the suit to the point of bursting, then hanging off the abdomen, with the legs of the pants similarly appearing almost empty.
At the mention of burning, the creature began to twitch, it's jaws moving as if attempting to mouth something, its teeth distorting its maw far too much to allow any lip reading.
No later than the gryphon finishing his question, the elk leapt forth from place, flying through the air like a thrown rock, an unnatural whistle emerging from its snarling maw.
 

[rammenstein]

The new guy

"No, sir. I'm from Veldun," Jaes replied as he followed his Lieutenant. He looked around as they walked, being sure to memorize where the building was located in relation to the layout of the base. His attention snapped back to the bear, however, when he started explaining how to get into the building. Straken nodded, to let him know that he understood, and followed him in.

Once they entered, the fox's eyes were immediately drawn to his new squad, and he gave them a quick once-over. Six personnel, two howitzers. His mind was already running through possible formations and maneuvers, figuring how to best deploy his new men. As they lined up, Jaes took his spot on the Lieutenant's left, standing at parade rest as his immediate commander and the former squad leader spoke.

"Squad, Atten-HUT!" He called his men to attention as the bear left. "At ease," he said once they were gone, allowing his men to relax. Once more, he looked them all over, before addressing them for the first time.

"Greetings, men. Warrant Officer Jaes Straken, your new squad commander. I trust you all are comfortable with this change in command, and if not, I expect you to get over it quickly. I expect the same level of excellence from all those under my command as I expect of myself. I am here because I am a specialist in my field, and it is theorized that my particular brand of specialty should prove particularly effective against our foes."

"Now, at this point I would have you all introduce yourselves, but time is short. Everyone, prepare to sortie. We can get to know each other afterwards. Move!"

[Ghostwish]

Just admiring the view, despite the distractions. Zanfib predictably replied, as his thoughts seemed to vanish under an invisible but impenetrable shield. Speaking of which, are you alright? We should get you to a healer as soon as possible, especially if a tussle like that is causing you to revisit your past meals in such an unpleasant manner. Zanfib sent again, and then snapped his gaze over to the two wolfdogs from earlier.

"You two!" He calls, pointing towards the wreckage. "We have just been assaulted from within there. Female, white feline, I give her a 7 out of 10. Be wary, because she is dangerous!" He says, and then looks back to Aliera. "Come, perhaps we can have Ali take us to my adobe? I can have a healer in there in moments." He suggests.

[Tipod]

Oyugun fought his instincts to lash and whip the creature's face, instead slithering back with semi-liquid agility as the earthen being slowly congealed into something more presentable. He had half a mind to box this thing's nonexistent ears; business in Gorod Kur, and here he was being interrupted by this idiot.

"You, what's the matter?" His tone was firm, if a little authoritarian. "Taking a nap in broad daylight? What happened here?" He could only hope there was a perfectly rational explanation for where that deer hide came from.

[Meany]

Vlcia Polhora

"For fuck's sake, she could still be around!"  The barkeep rushed through the room, having no problem on the ice, and snatched a sack from behind the bar as he surged for the ruined doorway.  One hand supporting the bag, the other reaching in and throwing rather large particles of what Chris' nose told him was salt into the air around the break in the door while chanting.  Just in time too, as the moment he finished, a spiral of wind and ice shot over the buildings on the opposite side of the street, and dove for the break in the door.  Instead of drilling into the room to shred both the barkeep and Chris like a glass storm, the gale broke upon some invisible barrier, quickly fading when the force driving it faded.

"Hmm.. it works now... why didn't it... " The barkeep stooped in the snow, and felt around where the door had been, scratching himself between his horns with the other hooved hand. He picked up a small bit of ice, and smelled it, then tossed it into the wall."Sea salt. Zuza! Devil fuck you with a horned dick, I fucking told you to use the salt from the jar near the kegs." He suddenly noticed Chris' presence again and snarled.  "Boy, get upstairs before she comes back and decides to go through the wall this time!"

[AmberCross]

Well. That was certainly something. It HAD been just the wind. In a manner of speaking. A shrill, piercing, supernatural, self-guiding wind that was apparently a 'she'. Chris frowned at his swords and decided that they would probably not be much help. He put down the lighter one in his left hand (it would melt eventually) and held onto the magic hilt oh the other since he did not have a place to put it. He was about to take the ram's advice since he seemed to have this well in hand when a thought paused him.

"The windows and such upstairs... they're warded too right?" If the barkeeper said 'yes' or something to that effect, Chris was going to go back upstairs and put pants on. If not, he was pretty sure it was safer down here. Although come to think, he wasn't particularly prepared in case of anything, so he just went upstairs anyway to put on clothing with magical protection. Hopefully he would be able to get some answers in a little bit.

[littlekreen]

Fergus blinked at the sudden juddering flesh from a thing poorly screwed together. Adrenaline started pumping at its, that kind of thing instantly made one doubt a need for gender, and instincts chimed that a standing position was needed for a good overhead strike. The need to flee forgotten Fergus's shot a paw down to the sledge handle to put into motion a reflexive need to smash the oncoming object. Smoothly taking one balanced step back his grip accelerates mallet to put the apex of his swing where the thought of pounding tent pegs says a skull full of teeth and scream should be.

The cheering of a crowd echoes loudly in his head where it once drowned out the interest to choose,'Destroy the unclean!Destroy the unclean!'

[Meany]

Kallisburg

The panthress did not verbally respond, but indicated to her left, where a gryphon-drawn carriage marked in white and red was parked.  An ambulance.  She sent the Warp Aci off to the vehicle, in all likelihood to summon a doctor, then turned her attention to the wreckage, where the firefighters were swarming with renewed vigor.

From their surface thoughts and emotions, I can gather that they can't find that woman you're talking about.  We can't leave yet, I can feel a police officer close by who wants an explanation.

A second later, a phoenix woman rushed over with a satchel, and began to tend to Aliera's wounds, while a rodent briefly examined Zanfib and ruled him unharmed physically.  From the wreckage, shouts came drifting; shouts of rats made of flame, and to get the hoses.

Gorod Kur

"Sir, yes sir!"

In short order, the gryphons were hitched to the carriages, runes flowing from the straps then over the wood, and a second later, both carriages were floating six inches off the ground.  The three other indiviuals stacking ammunition into the carriages, and emergency supplies as well.  The Lieutenant dragged forth a fan boat by himself, and began to load it while the large doors which allowed such large objects to pass began to open.  
One montage of moving gear later, the fan boat was in the water, racing alongside the gryphon-drawn carriages, heading deeper into the swamp.

"Intelligence confirms that the target is a gestalt," the lieutenant roared over the din of the fan, an impressive feat with his womanly voice.  "Meaning it will be only able to move in short bursts until it loses some mass.  So the howitzers will need to reposition after every shot, or the thing will charge them.  That means there will be periods of three to five minutes where there won't be artillery support. Squad Commander, you think you can manage?"
***
The shambling mass of clay and cloth moves slightly, using it's damaged arms to try to stand, but failing several times, and slumping back into the mud as more clay oozes from it's wounds.
"No bootable drive detected....please insert boot crystal..."  A mangled voice comes from the thing's face, as bits of crystal float to the forefront of the clay there.  The thing swings at Oyugun with it's still intact arm, despite being very far out of range, and mutters: "Battery depleted...please insert new battery...," before the entire mess goes limp, and leaking at an accelerated rate.

Derevensk
The monster recoiled as the hammer struck it in the head, causing one of the antlers to snap off and strike the ground.  The monster stumbled, and rolled to the edge of the blurring background, and stood up.  From the bloody impact sight where the hammer had struck, red runes appeared, until they covered the entire monstrosity, who did not move to attack again.
An instant later, the wendigo burst into flame, burning hot and fast, until all was left of it were ashes, and a charred elk skull.  The blurring faded after that, with many customers turning to look at the scene from the smell, with obvious confusion.

Vlcia Polhora
"Yes, yes, all the fucking windows are salted...  Damnit, now I gotta get the fire going extra-hot..."  And sure enough, as Chris is upstairs, the building warms considerably.  Other guests start to make noises from their rooms, but very few actually leave them.  If Chris were to look out the window he'd see why.  Every so often, the whirlwind from before would appear, arch, and lash out a building, at one time even striking Chris' window.  But soon enough, the whirlwind appears less and less, until it seems to have gone.

[rammenstein]

Heyo Captain Jack!
Meet me down by the railroad track!

As the squad moved into action and began packing up for their sortie, Jaes stepped into his role as commander; supervising, moving from group to group, lending a hand where it was needed. As the squadron commander, it was not his place to do the grunt work. His job was to manage, delegate and, as the new guy, integrate himself into his squad.
With everyone working together, it wasn't long before they were en-route.

The Warrant Officer stood with his lieutenant, listening as he updated them on the situation. A gestalt, one of the big 'uns. He nodded to show that he was receiving the info, logging it in his mind as he was already drawing up a plan of attack. The fox paused in his planning when the LT asked him if he would be able to manage while the big guns were repositioning. He turned his head to face the bear, his reflective glasses keeping his eyes hidden. After a moment, Jaes gave his commander a wicked grin, showing sharp teeth.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't, sir."

[AmberCross]

The crisis seemed to be over, but with the sun up there was little point in going back to bed so (properly dressed this time) Chris made his way back downstairs. It was still chilled downstairs, but if it hadn't bothered him half dressed earlier, it certainly wasn't going to bother him now. Instead he went over to the barkeeper and asked, "So what WAS that? I've seen some odd things, but this one's new on me. Are such things common around the mountain range?"

[littlekreen]

As the sledge connects a skull proves to give far more than tent stakes. The rote practiced motion required by Fergus to stay upright on two legs for the next hit is broken by the unpredictable movement of flesh and bone. As Fergus lists to one side with the screaming unscrewed thing recoiling away he lets go of the sledge.  Fergus and the hammer pound to the floor of the control booth with Fergus's nervous eyes watching his weapon clatter away.

'Not good! Might need to smack it again! Kazimir, gotta get Kazimir!', Fergus says inwardly to himself with adrenaline-clenched beak.

Fergus's tail tip thumps the floor hard as he thinks unwillingly of a familiar spicy sweet smell in his nose. Through the railing he sees the unscrewed thing's well-cratered skull bleed that immolating fire instead of blood and send a fresh blast of that sent toward him. At the sight of burning flesh Fergus's throat mixes with elation, salivia, and fear for his carnival.

Workers were always nearby somewhere in earshot to hear but a similar feeling of someone from earlier struck him with further worry, "Somebody get Kazimir over here! Tox cleanup aisle chair-o-wheels! Out of place guy in army boots and heavy coat go find and watch him!"

After actually looking around for familiar faces the world with blur gone, his clear mind as much as safety, seemed a lot more reachable now which was good. Fergus stumbles up to four paws while periodically eyeing the pile of ash to keep an eye on it for the sake of the faces nearby he didn't recognize. A concern making a close second was ensuring the right people heard him. He'd have to stay here for now.

One of his limbs felt bruised from an uncontrolled hard pound on the floor with his backpack on and didn't think it good to move quickly quite yet. Through his adrenaline and dulled sense of pain he wasn't sure if he'd hurt himself bad as muted throbs made it hard to figure out where they were coming from.