Berd lets out a startled squawk as Trista runs for higher ground, turning to face the archons and steadying himself on her shoulder through the simple expedience of grabbing her hair.


Behind the wandering woman, Cyan hurries after her, face pale and eyes nearly clear with fear for her friend.  She cannot reach the Archons.  She cannot assist Lexy.  "Trista!  Does she live?"

There is a loud popping sound, and the white hot Archon, sluggish and erratic in its movements, is suddenly siezed by a reaching tentacle.  The Leviathan recoils from the heat, and sinks quickly below the water, its tentacle burning, and still it doesn't release its grip.

The second Archon darts higher, and shrinks rapidly, as its enemy, hot as the heart of a sun, slams into the water.  There is an explosion, and a vast bank of steam spreads out across the lake, laced with flying shards of rapidly cooling metal.

Trista places Lexy on the ground, at the highest point she can find within a reasonable distance of the lake, and the unconcious woman, still with the sword-like fragment impaling her thigh, moans fitfully, as the weight of her leg presses against the metal.

With the battle, at least in the air, seemingly over, the storm continues, though its violence has abated somewhat.  The wave caused by the collapsing waterspout, smaller now, and shrouded by steam and vapour, washes up onto the shore, and starts to withdraw again...

Chance arrives behind Trista as she lays Lexy on the ground. He kneels beside the woman, looking at the jagged metal.

"Well," he says. "I don't think we should try to remove the metal, but I don't know what we can do. We need to get her to a doctor, somehow."

He looks back at the group standing by the water.

"Unless one of them...."

Seeing the last hostile archon sink beneath the waves with a dramatic burst upward, Dorian turns on his heel and follows the others towards Lexy. He could probably keep her alive for a time, but he suspects Berd or Devlin would be better at that task. They knew well that Dorian's specialty was the mind, and that is the area he works on. He reaches out towards Lexy, seeking to soothe her emotions and prevent her from going into shock. He hoped it would prevent the situation from worsening.

Trista studies the razor sharp metal ('razor' seems inadequate as it glistens much sharper), the wound it created, the entry point, the blood's path. As Chance speaks, she opens her pack, “Actually, this sort of thing I can deal with. Done it before. My stitching always leaves scars, but I'm guessing just wrapping the wound after extracting the blade will be enough for her if she heals as quickly as I think she will.”

A fairly large first aid kit comes out along with some antiseptic and dressing, all laid on the pack to keep out the sand. The woman carefully places her hands around the piece, avoiding the dangerous edges. In the past, she'd count down for her 'patient' and make sure they've got somebody holding them down, but since Lexy is unconscious...

Trista carefully, but quickly, pulls the piece out the way it came in, being as careful as she can to not create other wounds on the way. Blood pours from the wound and she quickly presses against it, heedless of the blood. As she said, she's done this before. Sadly.

She works to clean and dress the wound, keeping pressure on it.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:02, Wed 26 Nov 2008.

With no ability to simply 'affect' either the Archon's blade or Lexy, Berd simply peers nervously from Trista's shoulder.  Cyan crouches across the prone woman from Chance and Trista, her own concern mirroring that of the little dragon.

As the storm continues to rumble overhead, though, the drake takes a moment to peer up at the clouds, a rainbow mist escaping from between his needle-teeth to drift upward.

"Your skills in this area..."  Cyan shakes her head.  "Glad I am that you are here, Trista - not only for your training, mind, but certainly that is part of it!"

Devlin arrives with the others, not longer a demon, but once again a man, and lowers himself to one knee beside Trista. This was most definitely not the way that he'd wanted to greet here.

"I may be able to help, if you don't object, I'll see if there is anything that I can do about repairing internal damage." Also ignoring the blood, the man places his hand lightly on the one that is called Lexy. He's not sure he can do anything at all, but he can try.

There is a bubble of calm air where no rain falls, and Trista and the unconscious Lexy are at its heart. 

Trista works as quickly as she can, consistent with being careful.  As she mentioned, she has experience of this sort of thing.  The cleaning and dressing of the wound go smoothly enough, it seems, until Lexy starts shivering...



There is a whirring sound, and a sudden, brief spray of water, and suddenly there is a small hoop of gleaming metal shards, no more than a foot in diameter, spinning rapidly in the air above Trista's head.  + WE ARE SAFE FOR THE MOMENT.  THERE ARE NO MORE ARCHONS WITHIN THE BOUNDARIES OF THIS WORLD, AND WE CAN BE RELATIVELY CERTAIN THAT NONE ESCAPED. +

Trgiaob sounds oddly cheerful, or as cheerful as a creature with a voice like the sharpening of knives can sound, + THERE IS NOBODY TO REPORT THAT WE WERE ASSISTING ANY OF YOU.  IN FACT, NOBODY KNOWS THAT WE, OR YOU, WERE EVER HERE.  IT IS UNLIKELY THAT THE SERAPHIM WILL SEEK RETRIBUTION AGAINST OURSELVES, FOR THIS DAYS WORK, AT LEAST. +

Chance leans back on his knees, looking up at Trgiaob. "Then I guess we won," he says. Then he looks back down to Lexy and adds, "Kinda."

He watches Trista work for a moment. He notes Devlin's offer, but all he can do is hope.

“Glad to be of some service,” Trista peers up at Cyan, “There's not much I can do against enemies such as these.” Looking back at her work, she continues, “No doctor, of course. More like a field medic, but past experiences feed future needs, right?”


Trista nods to Devlin, a look of subtle surprise at his human form again. “Glad to have you back, glad to – see you again. Any help you can provide for her is welcome.” She looks to the little bird on her shoulder, still marveling over the complicated connections between Devlin and ämi. And frankly, between Devlin and herself. It seems to go beyond a friendly face or a shoulder she cried on. Something deeper, but unfathomable to her.


Once the dressing is in place, Trista frowns as she looks over the woman. She mutters, “I should have done this first,” as she pulls out a thin blanket from her pack and lays it over the Lexy's naked body. “My fault if she goes into shock.” She tucks the blanket around the woman, attempting to place a layer of it between her and the sand.

Then Trgiaob comes with news of the forgotten battle. Trista looks up at the little whirling circle. “I'm glad you'll be fine, and thank you for your help defending this world.” Her voice turns rueful, “I'm sorry you lost your collection.”

Storm blue eyes turn to Chance, “You gonna stay in that fancy armor of yours?” Reluctant humor sparks in her eyes, but she believes between the lot of them, Lexy will come out all right.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:38, Fri 28 Nov 2008.

Devlin finishes his study of the "Woman", his head tilting slowly to one side as he examines her body with his senses.

Turning a smile toward Trista, "It appears that your attention will be sufficient. Nothing vital has been damaged. She is sleeping. Some shelter from the elements might help." For just a second he appears ready to say something else, but then the second is gone and he says nothing.

While Trista continues to nurse the other woman, Devlin wraps one arm about her shoulders and gives her a sideways hug, pressing one cheek against her own as he does so. "It's good to see you, in one piece." he says, with an almost scolding tone.

ämi whistles lightly as the small creature flitters from Trista's shoulder to Devlin's and back again.

A small smile plays across Chance's face at Trista's question. A dozen quips, all concerning the removal of clothes, collide in his mind. Instead, the armor begins to melt and soften back into jeans and a t-shirt. "Guess I'm just paranoid."

OOC - this accursed site ate my post!  :(

IC -

Berd studies Lexy with worried eyes, hopping from foot to foot upon Trista's shoulder, his eyes glittering.  Forces rush out from him, wiping away bacteria and virus both, sterilizing the area, the tools, and keeping local particulate from entering the wound.  Across from Trista, Cyan glances up in concern, then back to the injured woman.  "Out of reach is out of my own hands, as well - I am of little use in this sort of battle.  As for Lexy, better you than myself!"  Her own experience with this sort of thing is primitive compared to Trista's - she barely knows the use of half the items in her own first aid kit.  "Would that she were Eldar," the bard whispers, "but a 'field medic' will more than suffice, I think."  Her smile is as weak as the colour of her eyes, and a grateful nod to Devlin follows.

She knows not what he might do, but any assistance is invaluable when saving a life.

She glances up at Trgiaob when he speaks, though - familiar with the danioti, Cyan makes out the satisfaction in his words.  "Fine for you that they will not report," she states tartly, standing.  "But not so fine for Lexy.  Nor this world!  When those do not report, it will be noticed - others may come, to the detriment of all.  You may have the opportunity to leave, but what of the people of this land?"

Berd lets out a small, chiming cry as Trista remonstrates herself, and tugs irritably at her hair with his claws.  He glances across at Devlin with glittering orbs, bobbing his head, then to Chance as the man's armor dissolves.  Cyan glances to the Deathsinger then, one eyebrow rising.  "Ah, yes.  I remember that."  Her brows knit together now.  "After a fashion."

Lexy's wound is finally covered, as is she.  But what to do next?  The people of this place rely on her to such an extent, and she fits into the fabric of this reality so perfectly, that it's hard to tell whether she came to the world, or the world came into being around her.

+ WE WOULD BE PREPARED TO REMAIN, TO ASSIST IN DEFENCE, FOR A TIME AT LEAST.  BUT IF HARBONAH CHOOSES TO SEND A THOUSAND, OR TEN THOUSAND, ARCHONS TO CONQUER THIS WORLD's DEFENCES, THERE WOULD BE NOTHING WE, OR EVEN THIS WOMAN, COULD DO TO PREVENT IT. + Trgiaob replies to Cyan, and its tone seems, somehow... hurt... disappointed that this human would think it prepared to flee.

+ SHE SHOULD BE TAKEN TO A PLACE WHERE SHE CAN RESTORE HERSELF, IN PREPARATION FOR SUCH AN ASSAULT, THOUGH THERE MAY BE DANGER INVOLVED IN MOVING HER - SHE IS TIGHTLY BOUND TO THIS WORLD. +  Trgiaob edges closer, tilting, as if examining Lexy through the hollow at the heart of the blades, + WE COULD CARRY HER TO A PLACE OF YOUR CHOOSING.  ALTHOUGH WHILE SHE IS WITHIN US, HER CONNECTION TO THE WORLD WOULD BE ATTENUATED.  WE COULD REDUCE THE DEGREE OF SUCH ATTENUATION, AS LONG AS WE REMAIN WITHIN THE WORLD'S BOUNDARIES. +

The Archon dodges aside rapidly as people move around Lexy, then rises until it is a good ten feet in the air.

+ ONCE SHE HAS BEEN MOVED, WE WILL SCAVENGE THE REMNANTS OF THE SERAPHIM.  STRENGTHEN OURSELVES. +

Standing off to the side, watching the others attend to the woman, Dorian says, "I believe I can provide anything she needs where we are, without leaving this world. It may be safest to keep her here until she is stronger. If we do need to move her, I could do so more or less instantly, but I keeping her might be safest. I think Trista represents the sum of our medical knowledge, so perhaps we should let her decide on that point."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:59, Fri 05 Dec 2008.

The hug from Devlin takes Trista by surprise, but is welcome nonetheless – like an old friend. Even the tone of his voice rings familiar though she's not heard it before. Her gaze flicks back to Chance as his armor melts away to the jeans and t-shirt reflecting her own attire. Her eyes take in the well-worn fabrics and she nods appreciatively.

It is Cyan that snaps her gaze back to the troubles they face, surprised at her outburst against one that provided help. The woman has been through much, of course, and Trista can't begin to comprehend the complex emotions that must bubble beneath her skin. All her words ring true. Still, Trgiaob has proven a friend to Trista's way of thinking.

After Dorian's input, Trista gazes over the waters, considering their options. Finally, she rises and turns to the man, “This Lexy,” an emphasis that she is not identical to the one some of them have known before, “is well loved by her people and she loves them. I believe she would be well cared for in the godspeaker's home which is a part of the church. Above all else, she would want us to find a way to stop Harbonah. To find a way to end this thing. I think Chance and I should return her to the village.” She turns her gaze to Chance with a self-deprecating smile, “You have a better way with words and can explain to them what's going on. If you don't mind.”

Back to Dorian, “I don't know how you move people, Dorian. Trgiaob can move all three of us in a very comfortable and stress-free environment. And the people have already seen him, so should be okay with him entering the village again. We could meet back here very soon. Compare notes, so to speak, and figure out our next step.”

At Trgiaob's words, Cyan relaxes, bowing her head to the archon.  "My apologies, Trgiaob," she says quietly.  "I heard something in your words that did not truly exist."  Her troubled eyes sweep the skies.  "And yet, our problem remains.  The seraphim have come - more will follow.  Harbonah is ever dissatisfied with failure, and his followers seek to recoup any losses.  Swiftly."  Grimacing, she bows herself out of the discussion regarding Lexy's disposition, choosing instead to drop to one knee beside the unconcious chaosite; it is beyond her, though she understands they plan to move the shapeshifter into town.  One hand trails fingers along Lexy's cheek.  "Goodbye, again, it would seem."

A chance meeting with this woman began this quest for Cyan, years ago and worlds away.

"Of course, Trista, whatever you believe necessary."  She stares around the lakeshore with bleak, jade eyes.  "As you wish.  We can most certainly await your return."

Berd reluctantly leaps from his perch - if the company might cause a stir within the town, better he remain here, with his daughter.

"Fine," Dorian says. "If you feel she will survive this attenuation the Archon speaks of. It matters not to me, so long as she survives." This Lexy was an ally, and he doesn't want to see any more allies die. The Archon said he could reduce the attenuation, but not eliminate it. He believed teleportation with sorcery would bypass that problem, but there was no way to be sure in either case.

"Yeah," Chance says. His eyes still linger on Lexy. "She'll be well cared for by her people. They think of her as a goddess. Seeing her wounded might be a shock to them, but she will be cared for like no one else." He only wished these people had more advanced medical care, but he figured is such was needed they could always go kidnap a doctor from somewhere else and bring her back.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:13, Fri 05 Dec 2008.

The Archon moves a little closer, tilting at a slight angle, + WE ARE CERTAIN THAT THE ATTENUATION WOULD DO HER NO HARM.  IT IS MERELY A TEMPORARY SEPARATION FROM THE FABRIC OF THIS PARTICULAR REALITY, WHICH SHOULD BE NO MORE HARMFUL THAN TRAVELLING TO ANOTHER WORLD, OR THROUGH THE UNDERFLOW. +

Trgiaob reduces in size, becoming no larger than a coin for a moment, before expanding again.  + HOWEVER, IF YOU HAVE CONCERNS REGARDING IT, THERE IS A WAY THAT WE COULD CARRY HER WITH NO ATTENUATION, BUT SHE WOULD BE EXPOSED TO THE ELEMENTS.  UNLESS ONE OF YOU CAN PROVIDE PROTECTION? +

Watching Cyan say goodbye to Lexy, Trista gives a nod to Dorian and turns appreciative eyes toward Chance. Just when it looks as if the problem of moving Lexy is solved, Trgiaob brings up other options, no doubt prompted by Dorian's further concerns. The situation frustrates the woman, more because she doesn't really have any answers.

“I don't know anything about attenuation or special moving techniques or whatnot,” impatiently, she adds, “Hell, I can just pick her up and carry her and find you all later.” It wouldn't be the fastest way, but certainly viable and Trista has a way to find the others on her own. After a sad eye watches Berd hop away, the woman prepares to do just that – carry Lexy unless one of the others decides differently. Backpack on, she begins to smooth the blanket around the woman.

"As long as she survives," Dorian repeats. To him, he would just as soon blast the Archon into fragments than let it do anything to a human, but they didn't have the luxury of choosing their allies in this war.

He glances at Trista. "But I would suggest haste, Archon. Do as you will."

+ HASTE WOULD BE THE WISEST COURSE. + Trgiaob's harsh metallic voice asserts, and the Archon drops, close to Lexy's feet, adjusting its size until it is some six feet across.  It sinks into the earth, to a depth of about one third of its diameter.

Then it starts to move forward, towards the unconscious woman.

With alarming speed, Lexy's feet pass into the space at the core of the Archon, and vanish, followed by her shins, knees, thighs...  As she vanishes, so does the ground she lays upon, leaving a shallow, smooth-sided trench.

Within a few moments, Lexy's head vanishes into the void, and the Archon lifts from the ground.

Only the trench remains, already starting to fill with rainwater.

Trgiaob hovers, and asks, + WHO ELSE WILL TRAVEL WITH US? +

Cyan shrugs.  "It is a perfectly safe method of travel.  Trista and Chance have availed themselves of it recently."  One corner of her mouth quirks in a pained smile.  "I, myself, have been known to do so.  From time to time."

After a moment's pause, she continues.  "I will travel with Berd," Cyan carefully states, with an apologetic amythest glance for Dorian, followed by a measuring one at Trista and Chance and a quick smile for Devlin.  "We have something to discuss, and require time to speak plainly.  If he takes me to where we wish to go, I can have a significant period to...well, argue, not to put too fine a point on it, and still arrive at the proper time."

Berd shoots a quick look at Trista, his eyes greying.

Dorian straightens, eyes narrowed. It would be a warm and sunny day on Samhain before he subjected himself to such a means of travel, without great reason anyway.

Dark eyes glance to Cyan and Berd for a moment. Personal business, he thinks. Distasteful. Hopefully it wouldn't burden the duo too much during the quest.

His eyes find his daughter, vaporous apparition floating quietly. Wide, brilliant eyes watch the others, seeking meaning and understanding. Right now, they're fixed on Berd.

"We will make our own path."