It's a sea of people in the streets, buildings on fire, and -no-one- seems to have an answer as far as what's going on. People are shrieking things like 'storms' and 'monsters', 'vines', 'blood' ... but there are parts of the street that are eerily quiet, alleys that can be seen here and there in the break of the river of citizens, empty save for the bodies. Prone bodies fallen like they'd drifted into sleep, pools of blood from open wounds in throat, wrists, mouths ...

Quakes ripple through the soles of feet, piercing inhuman shrieks rattle the eardrums as they spill in the air. Every able-bodied citizen is running through to the western gates, desperate to escape the city.

Sydney is just a common partygoer, in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had miniature quiches.

Kastelon checks perception and survival at hard. Kastelon is successful.

Ryhalt checks perception and survival at hard. Ryhalt fails.

Raymesin checks perception and survival at hard. Raymesin marginally fails.

Lou checks perception and survival at hard. Lou is successful.

Sydney checks perception and survival at hard. Botch! Sydney fails completely.

Acacia checks perception and survival at hard. Acacia is successful.

Lou wields forest mist diamondplate falchion.

Sydney does not have the knowing glance of one expecting trouble. A reveler in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her eyes are wide and terror-stricken, but her jaw is tight. She's used to being in the shit, even if she hardly appreciates it. Her trajectory takes her toward Raymesin, and in the cacophony of screams, her words are difficult but not impossible to make out. Actually, it turns out, entirely impossible to make out. But she seems to determined to stick fast to the tall man. Out. Out into the streets, the screams, the rumbling quakes. Sydney moves single-mindedly, her eyes darting everywhere. Taking too much in, to start.

"Gloria, smile upon us," hisses Kastelon in a low voice, a shake of his head as he's nocking an arrow on his bow at the sounds that are emanating from he darkness before them. His expression - usually so inscrutable - is deadly serious and focused, even with but one eye, as he seems to see something in the distance. "There's something back towards the city center," he shouts to the others, as he starts to try to wade through the crowd, lifting his bow as if to hopefully get a bead on that something he's seen. "Let's try to cover them and buy some time to get the people out the gate!"

Where some people are running screaming, Lou Grayson is not one of them. Yet. That might change. For the fearless Grayson isn't entirely fearless. She has a healthy dose of fear, actually. For now though, she has a part to play. She's a Grayson. This is her city. Her /home/. Her mother still lives here. She grew up here. So she knows the streets better than anyone. "For those helping to defend the city, to me!" she calls out. Her face would be known here amongst several of the citizens, always the explorer that she was. Her face gets more and more grim as she walks along the street, and at times she picks up pace, but her footsteps falter and slow whens he spies something in the distance. Her eyes widen, and then the not so fearless Grayson pales considerably. "What in the Abyss is that?" she calls out, unable to help herself. The Abyss is used as a curse, in this case, though it's probably not far from the truth. She looks around to see if anyone else sees what she does, trying to gauge who she might have around her to help.

Though surrounded by his guards and hastily stuffed into some armor, Ryhalt seems to be escorted by them as they're trying to get him out of the city, away from the harbor where his ship probably is, for whatever reason. There is a bunch of screaming and chaos. "We have to calm and organize them... or we'll all die here..." He's trying to tell the captain of his guard, but the man's probably at least as deafened as he is. He hears Ryhalt's shouting amid the screams and tries to wade through the panicked crowd towards him, despite his guards' wishes.

Raymesin moves out of the Cathedral with the group he'd arrived with, but they split up. The other three head off towards the harbour, but Raymesin slips into the night instead, the skull pin of a Harlequin gleaming at his throat. His empty hand reaches for Sydney's shoulder, but then his head turns towards the screaming further down the street. Kastelon's shout is head, and the tall Harlequin calls back, "On it." And then, more quietly to Sydney, "Pull yerself together, Syd." Raymesin was expecting trouble - but then again, the Lowers native always expects trouble. It's just this time he was confident enough to bring some actual armour to a party.

Acacia growls to herself still uncertain of what the hell is happening around her. Careful to keep out of the way, the leather-clad woman seeks a high place to observe what is causing the fray. Settled slightly above it's clear what she sees doesn not please. Looking down with a frown through the chaos a few familiar faces appear and then Kastelon's call. With a piercing whistle she calls the attention of the others. "I see em. Ahead. Cutting folk down. Not sure who," she calls out. "You game?. I hate to hog the fun alone," grins and if possible with track path up the treat for them where they can meet the least resistance.

The benefit of never taking your armor off is that you sure as hell never have to worry about putting it on. Paranoia pays off, for a change, not that Sydney Waterfall seems like she's thrilled about the prospect. Loud voices. Trajectories. A crush towards the gates. Mostly.

Mostly.

Sydney's eyes flit towards those who /aren't/ headed for the gate. "Wait." Her voice a dry rasp, and then she steps forward to snag Raymesin's arm. "/Wait/. There's some going the wrong fucking way."

Raymesin checks perception and stealth at hard. Raymesin marginally fails.

Lou checks perception and stealth at hard. Lou marginally fails.

Sydney checks perception and stealth at hard. Sydney fails.

Kastelon checks perception and stealth at hard. Kastelon fails.

Acacia checks perception and survival at normal. Acacia is successful.

Kastelon checks perception and archery at daunting. Kastelon is successful.

Ryhalt checks command and propaganda at daunting. Ryhalt fails.

Raymesin, Lou, and Sydney try to creep forward to get eyes on what's causing the ruckus down the street. Raymesin and Lou get close but are spotted by one of five figures. Tall figures garbed in black, shadowy tendrils and large, pale bones, the long blade they wield of the same pale material. They slash and move as one, walking towards the gates, twisting to cut, slice, stab, thinning out the crowd as they go. One separates to advance on Sydney, and while another stalks towards Lou and Raymesin.

TWANG! Kastelon's fingers loose the arrow from the bow and lets it soar towards the figures as they're advancing, over the heads of the people who are running past them towards the gate. His hand's already moving to draw free the next arrow in his quiver with an intention to nock it on the string and continue to fire, his attention straying from the figures for but a moment as it finds one of the five and sinks in, in a manner that might make a creature of flesh-and-blood know the pain he felt at Pieros.

While the others try to see what is causing the chaos, Ryhalt stays to the rear to try to sooth the crowd. The panic is too intense and his words fall on deaf ears, but he still tries. With what's coming towards them it's understandable, but he continues to try to take the edge off enough so they don't kill each other in the stampede.

It's not exactly hard to miss someone singling you out in a crowd. Especially when the line they draw towards you includes cutting down others on their way. Sydney's breath catches in her throat, then all at once her hands spring free of her pockets. Her fists GLEAM unmistakably in the moonlight, now. "Alright. Alright, you fucker. Alright, you murderous fuck. You sharding fuck. What the fuck are you, even? Shadowy fuck."

Sydney wields gleaming cestus of forged alaricite.

Raymesin is tall enough to see over the crowd, and he doesn't look happy about what he's seeing. He pulls back deeper into the shadows and slips to one side, apparently quite happy to let the one coming towards him and Lou focus on Lou. Bloody commoners.

Lou stops short when one of the shadow men starts coming for her. Pause. Quick look around. Correction. For her /and/ Raymesin whom she just notices. She gives him a quick nod then calls out. "TO ARMS. TO ARMS. If you are able to defend the city, TO ARMS!" In for the penny, in for the pound. It's decided. She'll defend the city. "If you cannot fight, aid your fellow neighbor to safety! Grayson Militia! To Arms!" She's not going to wait on the militia to save the day though. She changes the grip of her sword to something more solid, also suddenly becoming aware of some of the other guests starting to arm themselves as well. "I don't know what these things are. Not exactly, but they're not good." Captain obvious there. "But House Grayson will reward you handsomely if you fight with me. I bid you this as Lou Grayson, Voice of House Grayson." So, there, the strangers to her have an opportunity to gain a favor from Grayson.

Acacia remains topside, face grim and citizens are struck down. She watches a little long and her frown grows deeper. "Heads up. Five coming! But I'm not sure they're living or dead," she calls down just to make sure the others are aware of what is happening. The surge of the frantic crowd up ahead seems to set her jaw a little more. "Shite! Take them down fast, loves. I suspect we're about to get something much worse trying to get up our skirts in a short while!" And with that, she'll take a look a the scene below to decide where she can make herself useful.

Lou checks command and leadership at daunting. Lou fails.

Kastelon checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Kastelon is successful.

All throughout the city of Bastion, the skies are full of swarming locusts. Oddly, the swarm seems to be mostly centered around the castle of Grayhold.

Sydney checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Sydney is successful.

Kastelon checks perception and archery at hard. Kastelon fails.

Ryhalt checks command and propaganda at daunting. Ryhalt fails.

Raymesin checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Raymesin marginally fails.

Sydney checks dexterity and brawl at normal. Sydney is successful.

From the direction of the harbor, a full sized boat soars through the air, dropping debris and providing a view of the hull as it soars overhead clear across the city and lands somewhere in the noble district of the city.

A silvery blur zips past Lou, one of the two knives Raymesin carries openly. It's a left-handed throw, and definitely not one of the knifeman's best efforts.

Sydney checks dexterity and brawl at normal. Sydney is successful.

Sydney is, of course, not simply standing there waiting for her opponent as she arms up. She tries to position herself in a manner to gain a terrain advantage. She's a slippery eel of a woman, when she wants to be. And just now? She wants to be. She doesn't just wade into the thick of it like so many of the soldiers are. She surges to the side, charging to the nearest wall. Her boots fiercely kick off of it and sends her striking fiercely back at the /thing/ advancing on her. Alaricite spikes lead her assault. A fierce strike lands with that haymaker, and she follows it up with a /second/ hit with her off-hand. No glib remarks. Her eyes are alive with fury.

Acacia checks perception and survival at normal. Acacia is successful.

Another arrow's loosed from Kastelon's bow when he's advancing through the mass of humanity running for the gate. That he's missed is of little worry or change to his demeanor - another arrow comes from his quiver, almost automatically - as if he's simply chalked it up to that missing eye of his and the now-and-again fickleness of life. The bugs... are more of an annoyance. "I can't shoot bugs," he calls out, as if there's been an ask for him to do so, before he takes aim at another of the figures.

If the crowd isn't going to respond to a Grayson Princess, they certainly don't seem inclined to hear him, either. He grimaces and shakes his head. Glancing over his shoulders, he sees the fighters and directs his guards, though several of them have broken and run by this point, to help drag and clear stuff out of the road to help give them better room to fight. Stopping the cause of the panic seemed to be the only way at this point.

Lou is somewhat taken off guard by Sydney's display of the fuckity fucks at the monsters before them. So, while she's cuts off her rally to get people to arm themselves up to stare a moment at the women either in awe or confusion. She shakes herself out of it and then starts to advance on the shadowy figure heading her way when the silvery blur buzzes past her. She spins around a second to see who that is, and then noticing Reymesin, nods again, and goes back to what she's doing. Hopefully she's not all turned around during this battle! She closes the distance and goes in for the attack, probably offering up a quiet prayer to Petrichor at the same time. Nothing big. Just the usual type, an every day sort people make. Yada yada, protection, family, etc, yada.

Lou checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Critical Success! Lou is spectacularly successful.

And... whatdoyaknow?!?! Perhaps Petrichor was listening in after all? Not that Lou would say that, maybe. Probably. Or, maybe she would. She's an Explorer. She tells lots of stories. So many! There was this one time. . . RIGHT! So, all that training Lou undertook of late has definitely paid off, a hundred fold. She's hyper aware of her body. Her footwork. Her movements. How she positions herself, and where everything is going all at once. She's working in fluid motion here. In, out, twist, slash, strike, in, out, step back, step over, step forward, jump, and . . . THERE'S HER OPENING! She cleanly steps toward the shadowy bone creature and slices cleanly across its front, and if it is something that can be gutted - well, it's gutted. Not like a pig, because it isn't a pig. But, gutted all the same. She steps back in a swift motion to dodge away from whatever might hit at her in its throes of death.

From the direction of the southern streets of Bastion, an unholy shockwave of tremors emits from the ground. Then a massive centipede, taller than many of the buildings peeks its head up as it tosses several human beings into the sky and screeches before descending again.

Pulling up her cowl and covering her face with an inky black sash, Acacia is about to make her way down abut is suddenly distracted. The Red Culler swallows softly. "Raymesin! Kastelon! We have to go," she calls out with urgency tossing her head up the road before swinging down to try to take out the nearest rag n' bone man so they can attempt to get out. "Somethings coming... shadowy shapes. Two of them as wagons and a host small humanish things. Don't know what they're doing but theirs with bodies littering the streets in their wake. Nothing's moving. We have to get these folk out!"

Increased screaming erupts in the direction of the western gate, as those who have managed to get out are suddenly attempting to get back /in/. Above the screams, wolf howls are suddenly heard, horrible and wrong to the ears.

Acacia wields Defiance, a diamondplate dagger.

Darkness creeps in the wake of the river of screaming people, moving slowly down the street from the city center and towards the Western gates that stand some distance beyond our heroes. From either side of the street, there are still civilians running to escape, except for the few Sydney notices now and then, but for the most part, they are coming, and there are so. Many. People.

Women. Children. Men. Soldiers. Commoners. Merchants. Nobles. All of them desperate to leave the city that crumbles, on fire, the night full of screams both human ... and other.

The tall figures of rag and bone are down to three, and those three advance upon Raymesin, Sydney, and Kastelon- ... only for the shockwave to ripple through the streets of Bastion.

Sydney's second strike has incapacitated her foe, but the power of the shockwave brings rubble from the building nearby to crush where he lays prone upon the ground.

The crowd, supported by themselves, only topple at the edges and continue to stampede forward, but the two rag-and-bone men collapse backward, their swords falling from their hands. The panicked citizens of Bastion grind them into the cobblestones in the confusion, unafraid of what's under their feet for what seems to be coming up behind them.


Debris falling directly in front of her and crushing her downed opponent is a wake-up call for Sydney. After all, she only just misses being buried under that same debris by less than a foot of clearance. She coughs involuntarily and throws herself back, teeth bared. Without being under the fear of being imminently gutted or beheaded by a weapon she doesn't understand, she's able to more forcefully call out, "This road is a fucking abbatoir! PEOPLE. Side streets! Side streets! Si--" Is that a fucking centipede, over the rooftops? No. No time for that. Sydney fixes her attention on the few who aren't escaping. Conspicuously.

Ryhalt staggers and tries to keep his feet as the shockwave passes through the city. While he hears Acacia's shout to get out, he also hears the wolf howls from outside the gate. "Of course, there's wolves, too... There had to be." Clenching his jaw, he watches as the area near the gate turns into worse than chaos as the streams of people fight back and forth, ending helplessly clogged. "This...a problem." He tries to look to see if there is any way through the nearby buildings to try to direct traffic to a different, hopefully safer, way, thinking the same as Sydney.

Lou checks composure at hard. Lou marginally fails.

Sydney checks perception and survival at daunting. Sydney is successful.

Lou quickly steps back, pushing up against one of the shop or street walls as people start barreling through from the other direction. She didn't quite hear Acacia's warning, as she'd been in the middle of fighting one of the rag'n'bone men. She cranes her neck in the direction of where they are coming from when the shockwave goes through the streets and nearly catches her off balance. She braces herself against the wall. The wolves, however? THOSE? She hears. And yeah, her face pales at hearing them. "Victus was nearly killed by one of those wolves when that falling star happened. Get out of the streets!" she calls out. "Or, at least, this street." She starts to find a way towards a side street, alley or door herself.

The commonalities dawn on Sydney. It took some staring, but she finally seems to realize what's bothering her. She interjects on Ryhalt, on Lou, jerking her head to the side, "There's folks filtering into the larger buildings! Not /home/. Not for /shelter/. For something fucking else! No one's come out, despite the shockwaves. Something's /off/!" The commoner's voice elevates, trying to cut above the din.

The arrow's lowered, Kastelon aiming his bow at the ground for the moment with the shouting, and there's a glance in both directions - back towards the gate and back towards the city center. "Sounds like we're trapped in here," he shouts, not that anyone else has missed that little detail, when the pirate-looking Oathlander's worrying about these things. A nudge of his chin towards Sydney. "Gotta block the path before all these people go running at whatever the Captain saw coming. And it lets us mount a defense."

"We go in after 'em, we're dead," calls Raymesin to Sydney. "We gotta buy folks time ter escape, an' not get 'emmed in ourselves, Syd." He looks around at the others. "If you good folks start shiftin' stuff, I'm gonna go check the blacksmith's, see if there's anythin' useful in stock."

Raymesin checks perception and survival at hard. Raymesin is successful.

Lou checks perception and survival at hard. Lou is successful.

Acacia staggers as the shockwave rolls through the city and she braces against the building. Glancing aside to Ryhalt and then Lou's reflections, she wrinkles her nose. "Wolves?" But before she can continue Sydney warning comes hot on it's path. "Quick, let's get those," she nods to the barrels of oil, tar and rop. "Maybe we can rig something thing up to buy us some time to get those gates closed and out of harms way?" she calls out to the group.

Sydney checks perception and survival at hard. Sydney is successful.

Kastelon checks perception and survival at hard. Kastelon is successful.

Ryhalt checks perception and survival at hard. Ryhalt is successful.

Sydney all but grinds her boot into the cobbles at Kastelon's response. "I know I ain't--- I ain't fucking imagining this! Something's wrong! We're bein' distracted from where we can do the most good!" She only sounds half-sure of herself, but she does sound affronted. Raymesin's response sets her back on her heels. Self-doubt creeps in. She balefully looks at the side roads, and clenches her teeth, "It's not about being HEMMED IN." She sounds entirely unconvincing.

Acacia checks perception and survival at hard. Acacia marginally fails.

Lou glances over at Sydney, pausing. She's not one to dismiss someone's thoughts or ideas on the matter. "I believe you," the Grayson Princess blurts out. The Explorer has seen too many things to discount them in her lifetime. "Can you explain this feeling of yours? Or what you're seeing, or how you're seeing it?" she asks her, an exceptionally earnest expression on her face.

The group, looking about, finds plenty to work with ... depending on what they'd want to do. Flammable oil is plentiful, tar, rubble of wood and plaster, broken and unbroken! wagons, lying about along the edges of the street as the crowd coming from the city center has noticeably thinned. From either side of the street, though, from alleys and avenues and courts, more people are coming, and they're screaming:

"BUGS!"
"-GATES ARE BROKEN...!"
"....the HARBOR .... THE HARBOR...!"
"BOATS!"
"SHADOWS THAT KILL-!"

-and the picture is coming together.

There are no other gates to open, the Western gate is all that's left, but ... maybe ...

There's a crack, a rumble under the feet of everyone. A shockwave? Perhaps, but it's a rumble where before it was a heave of sound and cobble.

The shriek of stone and unseen shapes, and the guard towers at the Western gates have begun to collapse as if struck, a sandcastle smashed by an unseen hand.

Wooden beams and rock explode and avalanche downward, and while our heroes are some distance from the gate, they watch, helpless, as it collapses into wrenched wood and metal.

The crowd streaming forwards have halted, several rows of citizens crushed in the disaster, some trying to dig, others frantically moving outward, away, to the side.

And there is a desperate hope circulating as they guide and herd themselves to large, older buildings along the edges of the street, what Sydney herself noticed hours ago:

"...tunnels," is whispered in soft, frantic wails. "...the tunnels, there's one here..."
"...move, darling, get to the old-"
"...still open, they said they're still open, the tunnels...!"

But Raymesin, Lou, Ryhalt, Kastelon, and Sydney find their attentions pulled back towards the city center, the screaming and the wails that still come even as the dust clears at the gates behind them. They can see, now, what comes in the distance.

What at first seems like shadows that move turns out to be large amalgamations of vine and bone and branch, shambling creatures the size of large wagons whose tendrils of smoke are revealed to be waving, listless vines. Now and then, a vine would strike out, snare, touch, grab a fleeing person ... but that's all it would do. Grip. Squeeze. Just a single vine, a heartbeat of touching, before it would retreat and look to grab another.

The person left behind would be changed. Motionless where they were left, swaying, breathing, eyes dull and jaw loose, the destruction about them met with apathy, as if they observed nothing more terrifying than paint drying on a wall. But in the wake of their sudden grayness, the shambling collection of bone and tree passing, there would come a figure, cloaked in darkness and drab fabric. A hand would reach out to brush a shoulder, a pausing moment as lips moved beneath the shadow cast by deep cowls before the figure would continue moving.

One, a woman, still swaying from the vines' passing touch, would scramble for shards of glass after a quiet moment with one of the hooded figures. Another took a dagger from his own belt and-

While it is their own hands that cut their veins and slash their throats, it's clear that whatever is killing them, it isn't themselves.

This is what's coming for them, and as yet, the civilians haven't noticed or thought to give warning. All they can do is flee, and there are still so very many of them.

And the amalgamations keep advancing.

Acacia is simply eyeing the barrels of fuel and taking a look at the grade of the street to see what might roll which way. Looking up to the surrounding roofs and balconies if any, she seems to be assessing something.

"If we tar the roadand maybe douse them down with that lamp oil, that might slow them down. May not stop them but that might take care of those vines," she redhead points to the ground. "And there. Ropes. Nice, tight and low. Maybe they won't seen them if they surge forward. Let them get tangled. Then may be run a wagon of fuel into them... then we can make a break for it. But to where? Thoughts?"

"Them being our friends up there. Give those bastard and nice little bath," she clarifies her meaning.

Relief washes over Sydney's features as Lou acknowledges her. Her mouth opens, to desperately impart her logic - and then the Western Gate crumbles downward, a plume of dust and countless dreamers returned to the Wheel in the span of a heartbeat. The pugilist takes a step back as though visibly struck by the weight of witnessing that loss of life. It's only the rather more wrenching experience of seeing the advance of the amalgamations that snaps Sydney back to reality, swallowing the bile in her throat and centering herself to snap, "There's tunnels under the city. Just like Arx. Of course there would be. And people are either making it out, or getting themselves into some serious shit. No one's come out. On our end."

Raymesin rolls a barrel out of the blacksmith's and up to the barricade they're building... and then the west gates crumble and fall, and leave Raymesin standing and staring. "Well, fuck." And then he's pulling himself together again. "Looks like if we don't go in them buildin's, we're dead," he calls to the others.

A moment's watching what's coming, even as he can hear Lou calling out to Sydney and... Kastelon's almost transfixed, for the moment, by the horror that's coming their way, that he doesn't hear Sydney's response. That he's easing up on the pressure on his arrow on the string, that's because he's glancing to the others when there's the shout from Acacia. "Get something flammable down there and I can hit it. Vines should burn," he says with determination and confidence. Easy enough for him to step out into the middle of the way to start finding something to swab his arrows in for them to be lit.

But a glance up the street. "Can we get those people to move in the right way? This won't hold the buggers forever, I'd wager. Gods."

Ryhalt frowns more deeply as he hears Sydney's warning and nods sharply. He starts to go back to the group when the gate is smashed by...something. Ducking his head, he bolts towards them to evade flying debris. It's all...good... He hears Syndney's rational and frowns in thought, indeed people going in and not coming out was both a good and bad sign, with no way to tell from here. He shakes his head to Kastelon, "People are too panicked to listen unless someone more convincing than Lou and I is here... Trying to get people to the tunnels seems the best option, considering..." He gestures vaguely towards whatever is happening to the poor people down the street. Not *TOO* worried.

Sydney casts a seriously doubtful look at the amalgamations. The suicides. She hisses, "What Ray said. I... we're running out of time to get out of this unscathed. This city isn't falling. This city is /fallen/, and we're the ones who should be running. We need to go. We need to /fucking/ go."

A breath, as Kastelon's looking about. He's not a commander of men, but a huntsman at heart, and there's a nod to Sydney. "That requires getting them to move that way," he calls, in a manner that's trying not to deny what she's saying. "And ourselves as well." His attention shifts back to the horrors ambling closer to them. "We need some time - let's buy ourselves a little time."

"Alright, do you want to try to roast em, or cut our losses and get the hell out of here?" Acacia asks as she steps it up to help Raymesin moving the barrels in to place, a long coil of rope picked up and warn across her chest just in case the need to make a break for it. "If you set a trap here to light them on fire, maybe we can follow the roofs and get out of the city another way. Highness? Sydney? This is your town, aye? What do you think? We don't have much time. This needs to count."

"We are not going to be able to kill those things and survive, so whatever you are planning to do, get it done quickly," Lou barks out to those who are discussing stuff. "Time is of the essence." She's used to exploring places, not fighting the big and the bad. "I can lead us through alleys and other places to get out of here. I know these streets very well. Or at least, I knew them before tonight. I'll do my best to get us out of here." She rummages through her backpack and pulls out a map of the city, carefully looking it over. While she wouldn't need one normally, she came prepared, just in case. "If you think your plan will slow them down, then get to it. I'll have to trust your experience and expertise." Just as they'll have to trust hers.

From the direction of the docks, thunderous sounds of destruction are heard again along with roars of what sounds very much like pain, loud enough to shake the remaining buildings of the city.

Sydney checks composure at hard. Sydney marginally fails.

Kastelon jerks a thumb in the direction of Acacia, when he's nodding to Raymesin. "Let's set the trap and let us go. We can try some distance, and then we'll deal with this." The arrows go back into his quiver, the bow to where he can free up both hands, and he moves over to help the other man with getting the barrels in place, if they're to do this thing before the menace reaches them.

Ryhalt checks intellect and propaganda at hard. Ryhalt fails.

Ryhalt checks intellect and propaganda at normal. Ryhalt is successful.

"Have you all gone fucking blind? If you're doing something, fucking do it! We can't stop these things! We're flesh and blood, we don't have sharding airships, we let them get close enough, and we fucking die. Stop /talking/, start /moving/!" She's already edging back herself. Like she's about to break and run for it. Maybe she is.

Raymesin takes one of the barrels of oil and applies a diamondplate knife to the lid. That done, he turns and kicks it over. Viscous liquid, dark in the night, starts to spread, mostly towards the oncoming monstrosities at first; before it can start to lap back towards him, Raymesin's already moving. "Come on, time ter go!" And then a roar at the people queueing to get belowground. "Get shiftin'!"

"With me." Ryhalt says quickly to Sydney as he notes the slow down at the tunnels. "We're getting out of here. *All* of us are getting out of here." He trusts the others to set their plan to giving them time. "You'll badger and I'll coax them to go faster, as fast as safe. If there's slowness because of a clog we'll know since people'll start pushing back this way." He says this as he's moving towards the line at the tunnels, starting to calm nerves and assure, though people seem calmer know they have a clear, known exit.

Lou checks mana and survival at daunting. Lou fails.

The simple act of someone agreeing with her to move toward the tunnels is all Sydney needs. The tacit permission to do what she's been wanting to do for minutes is all she needs. Ironically or appropriately, this seems to calm the young woman down. She nods firmly to Ryhalt. "Right. Yeah."

Tendrils of shadow shoot out from the lumbering beasts of vine and old bone, closer now; they can smell the rot. The bones rattle, little skulls of rodents found beneath a busy city, little paws and tails woven into root and soil that drags over the cobblestones. The amalgamations are running out of people to touch, though one pauses on the right side of the street, vines pouring into the entrance of an old theater as the line leading into it scatters; there are screams at first, then silence, and several hooded figures slip in to the quiet building, only to emerge moments later with blood painting the streets where they walk, the lower half of their robes soaked with it. The amalgamation they followed is some distance ahead of them now, bigger than it was before, but the other creature, its twin along the opposite side of the rode, is coming even closer to the gates and the crowd before it.

From the sockets of a thousand little skulls, little coals lit with malice fix on the five people standing between them and dinner.

Kastelon checks perception and archery at hard. Botch! Kastelon fails completely.

Kastelon checks perception and archery at hard. Kastelon is successful.

Raymesin checks luck at normal. Raymesin fails.

Lou checks command and leadership at normal. Lou is successful.

Ryhalt smiles as warmly to Sydney as he can for someone disheveled by the ongoing chaos can do. This reassuring smile he turns on all he sees, helping those who have fallen to their feet and encouraging orderly haste. If he's scared, well, they all can be, but he still does have his spear. For now he focuses on working with Sydney to get people to exits, calming the spike of panic as the theater exit is smashed. "That way. Move. Steady."

A dark frown on Kastelon's features as he misses one shot, and at least gets the second, though he's moving a few paces back, moving to try to light another of his arrows on fire. A glance over his shoulder when he's hearing Ryhalt, Lou and Sydney herding the people along, and... that turn of his hazel eye back to the advancing horde. "This is why I stopped going to parties," he grumbles.

Sydney doesn't even make a pretext of it any longer. With the trap - such as it is - sprung, Sydney is filtering along with Ryhalt, doing her best to convince the line to keep moving as well. For her, it's less an empathetic whisper here, a hand up to someone stalling there.

it's more*

Lou puts the map away with a sigh, tucking it back into her backpack. She'll still lead folk out, or help in that manner. It's what she knows best. However, in the meantime, while the others are working at their plan to set the city MORE on fire, she joins Ryhalt in directing traffic more efficiently, guiding folk, giving them directions, giving them some of the other next best routes to get out of this section fo the city and to more safer spaces. She glances over her shoulder at Kastelon, smirking. "I don't think anyone considered that they'd attack a major holding like this. That he had /so many/ people, but I should have fucking known it considering he was /eating/ Whitepeak for its magic." She should have been more worried too. "Also, these were no the shav'arvani we were expecting!" Yeah, Grayson knew something ahead of time. "I just hope Liara and Aindre are faring better," she speaks of her cousins. Oh, and yeah. The princess can have a potty mouth when she wants to as well, even if she does try to keep it polite. "Any luck?" she asks. "Or do we need to start following our own escape route now?" she wonders, eyeing the people in the streets. She doesn't want them to get eaten, but neither does she want to be eaten!

Raymesin's pale gaze turns down the street to where the theatre sits, and his gloved fingertips go to the skull pin at his throat. "Queen'a Endin's, Mother'a Beginnin's, may the souls'a Bastion come ter you as is proper, 'cause this shit's just fucked up." He starts backing up fast, heading for Sydney and Ryhalt and the way out.

From the harbor, a shrill, piercing, unearthly scream is heard, "NOOO! MY BABY!"

To the relief of many, Ryhalt and Lou's commanding, calming presence is working well ... a little too well, perhaps. The pool of people, massive as it is, is starting to shrink. People are escaping, whispering their thanks, but soon ... soon, the denizens of Bastion are beginning to notice what is slowly creeping towards them, and the carefully maintained calm crafted by Ryhalt and Lou slowly begins to unravel.

And the slow, inching pace of the amalgamations begins to speed up.

The shambling lumber becomes a rattle of bone and root, closer they come and the heroes can see what's there: undignified death, unsanctioned, restless, mouths of rot affixed in gaping, silent screams that still wheeze and pull on open air. Vines shoot out, snare ankles of fleeing soldiers and merchants, a noble family caught and released, only to remain prone, breathing, motionless on the cobblestones, their eyes dull, the fire of living sucked away.

Kastelon checks perception and archery at hard. Kastelon marginally fails.

Whooosh. Kastelon's bow snaps another shot off, the arrow sailing through the air, and it finds its target, but there's no flame by the time it reaches. This does not deter the huntsman, not one whit, as he moves to light another arrow and get ready to do the same thing. "Gloria, if you are listening, this is the time to perhaps help me," he says, as respectfully as he can, though there's clear tension in his voice.

Howls go up again from the west, but they're moving away quickly now. The screaming from that direction is...much diminished, but still so very, very present.

Ryhalt he nods in passing to Lou, smiling in thanks that she can give better directions. He's the blind leading the blind, just...calmly. Still, there are a great many people and time is galloping away from them. His eyes tighten at whatever that scream was about a baby, encouraging more firmly in the event that makes people panic again. "Don't look back. Move along quickly." He glances back himself only enough to check the progress of the delay tactics.

In the confusion of the mob and the crowd, it gets difficult to figure out which way's the right way to go. Short of marching along in a line as abominations close in on them, Sydney focuses on trying to look for alternative escape routes. Just in case things go to shit. All it takes is one cave-in, one traffic jam, or one really nasty /thing/ at the end of a tunnel to make things go to hell. That, and despite her urgency from before, she seems strangely reluctant about the idea of escaping /anywhere/ via tunnel. If they're going to find one, maybe it should be the /best/ one. She tries to keep an eye out for a less congested exit.

Sydney checks perception and survival at hard. Sydney is successful.

Acacia is getting itchy. "Do what you can, man. Then let's get scarce," Acacia nods once with a his of breath, though she remains steadfastly by Kastelon's side for one last try. "Then we go. Got it?"

Raymesin does his level best to make it four people between the monstrosities and lunch - while not looking like lunch himself. He collects the knife he threw on the way to join Sydney. "Time ter go," he says quietly. Tall, intimidating, dressed all in black - he's the stick to Lou and Ryhalt's carrot. Although not as much of a stick as what's coming up the street towards them all.

"Keep moving. Keep moving. Get to safety," Lou tries her very best to use the most calming, but still leaderly, voice she can. "We know. We do know. House Grayson is here to watch over you," she does her best. It's probably not THE best, but she still tries to work the crowd, to get them to keep moving in an orderly fashion. "Don't push. Don't shove. Use the streets or the tunnels around you, and you'll get out of this area soon." She continues to give directions like this as best she can.

Kastelon checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Kastelon is successful.

Ryhalt checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Ryhalt is successful.

Lou checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Lou is successful.

Sydney checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Sydney is successful.

Acacia checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Acacia is successful.

Lou checks command and leadership at daunting. Critical Success! Lou is spectacularly successful.

Ryhalt checks intellect and propaganda at daunting. Ryhalt is successful.

Raymesin checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Raymesin is successful.

Kastelon checks perception and archery at hard. Kastelon marginally fails.

There's another shot at the barrel, and another one that does not have the thing alight. "You are -not- helping things," says the Keaton huntsman to himself, when he's lighting another arrow on fire and, indeed, retreating a few steps up the street - he's not unaware of the danger he's in. "One bloody shot and we can get into those tunnels with a bit of cover to make sure they don't vine us to death down there..."

Honestly, Lou's encouragement is so good that even Sydney calms down further. Her breathing steadies, and she sets a hand to her chest. "Okay. Okay. Focus. Calm down. They're just tunnels. Collapsing... terrifying... underground... tunnels. It will be fine. It'll be fine." She mumbles to herself a touch, while keeping her eyes skirting about just a bit less desperately, now.

The amalgamations are moving from a 'wander' pace to a 'quick stride', heading to the collection of people over the cobblestones. Still some distance off, they continue to pause at lines of people diving into old buildings and hidden tunnels and grates in the street, nearly caressing in their haste with their dark veins, the figures behind them stalking close on their 'heels' to lean and whisper, death in their wake without ever getting any of it on their own hands.

There's the sudden surge of panic in the crowd sandwiched between the gates and the four standing guard, but Lou's calming presence has an effect, and, with Ryhalt to back her up, the people continue to move, quick, easy, less and less people remaining and no one panicking. At least, not yet.

Kastelon's arrow skims close but doesn't light the tar and-

The sudden departure of locusts rising from the city has the amalgamations and their 'attendants' pausing, even as their prey continue to bleed out into safety.

And then the vines.

Tendrils of midnight shoot outward towards the heroes, but they are still too far even as they march forward, faster, hastening to grab whatever, whomever they can. Their reach retreats for victims that are nearer, leaving staggered husks that wheeze limply and lean against buildings and each other. The creatures of undignified not-death lumber forward at a quicker clip, closing the distance-

Abruptly, all the locusts have flown off, most buzzing off into the sky. Just as sudden as their arrival, they are gone, save for entirely too many bug corpses from swatted bugs lingering anywhere and everywhere.

Things are bad. Awful. The line is long, and moving, but things are still moving too slowly for the newly invigorated and wrathful amalgamations. Sydney's boot clinks ever-so-softly against a grate as she steps over it. The echoing noise beneath it catches her attention immediately. She stops in her tracks. Stares. And then she drops down to her knees, ripping, yanking, straining with all of her might. It's... just a grate, though, and bent, besides. "Here! HERE!"

She doesn't wait for them to take her cue. She slides down into the dank darkness below, her mind made up. This is the tunnel. This is the RIGHT tunnel.

Close. Too Close. Much too close. That last attack from the herokiller monsters was MUCH too close for even Lou. She does some last minute coaxing, but even she knows there's a time to cut ties and make her own way to safety. When Sydney starts calling out, she doesn't hesitate. She finishes her last set of directions and heads to the tunnel that the other woman pointed out. "It's time to retreat!" Lou calls out, motioning to the tunnel.

Raymesin doesn't stop to think twice. When Sydney finds another way out he's on her heels in moments, lowering himself into the void with the air of a man who's done this before. A lot. Even if he really isn't that keen on small spaces.

Acacia scrunches her nose slightly as the flame is doused by the oil. Glancing over her shoulder she looks to those remaining. "Shall we? Unless someone wants to get stupid and heroic?" she nods to Kastelon, giving him a little bump of a hip. Maybe it's frustration or defiance, but she give a barrel a solid kick forward and then follows the rest of the party out of harms way.

A frown, as Kastelon's firing again at the barrel... and a sigh as he's considering the crowds. Another step of retreat and another, not that he's -liking- any of this... but he serves no one well if he's dead. Those horrors are going to haunt him, certainly, for a very long time as he's moving with the others, with that one eye keeping wary watch on the horde. Watching Sydney, Lou and Raymesin disappear, there's a frown... and a grudging nod to Acacia. "Let's go." And he too follows after.

Ryhalt clenches jaws as despite their efforts it is clear death is upon them and there are still far, far too many people to get through the available tunnels. It doesn't make him all that happy by his face, but he knows a lost cause when he sees it. He gives his last efforts to hurry people on before he reluctantly turns and follows down the way Sydney had revealed to them.

Lou has't disappeared yet! She's waiting for those who helped to get down first, being the last Grayson out. Once it's clear every one is safe, only then does Lou go won too! And none too quickly. It's heathy to be fearful.

The city is coming apart. The walls are crumbling around the street, down the street, but worst of all, the amalgamations are hastening forward, faster, faster, vines sweeping out to caress and grab and as they touch people, their victims crumple and collapse, still breathing, still alive, eyes dull and jaws loose, and the collection of rodent skulls clatter and rattle as the monsters grow as they rush into the crowd.

While Ryhalt and Lou saved many more than they could have otherwise, even with the traps unsprung, there are still many people at the broken gates, struggling to flee and finally, -finally-, they begin to panic.

The group of half dozen slip into the looked-over tunnel and its bent grate, thanks to Sydney's keen self-interest. And whomever is last would see the carnage that rages within the collapsing city: an amalgamation of rodent skulls with malicious little eyes, vines that lash out, and it grows. Bigger, and bigger-

No one knows how big it becomes, a wave of heat and dust sweeps in, blinding our heroes momentarily, the ground shaking above, below, and around them, as they finally make their escape down, and then south, to emerge after many hours with thousands of others, blinking in the morning light.

If they turn to the north they would see it: the smoke and ash that rises skyward above what was the city of Bastion, the seat of the House Grayson.