While some of the crew are on an away mission, it is up to the remaining few to solve the mystery of the giant bubble-like forcefield that encapsulates the main hub of Haumea Colony. With lives, and potentially reputations, on the line, the crew must work swiftly… or else who knows what could happen? But our spotlight today is not about those outside of the bubble, but those inside… the daring few trapped in a land of fantasy, swords, sorcery… and strange, animated boxes out for blood!
To continue the saga, or come join the fun, please join in at Haumea Colony!
The first sign of anything that the group came up eventually wasn’t an object or image out of place, but a lone figure a few inches shy of five feet tall, clad in black like the outfit meant to pay homage to pop-culture ninja images, plus a waist-length half-cloak with the hood down, revealing long dark hair in a fishtail braid and the backs of distinctly pointed ears. The figure was clearly a child’s, if an older child’s who might in a few more years turn into a teenager. Drawing closer, one could also see from the side a distinct annoyed scowl on the girl’s face; as she reached forward and picked up a rock from the edging alongside some plants, then hurled it with a good deal of force…Only to have it thwack! against seemingly nothing in the middle of the air, bounce back slightly, and fall to the ground to join at least seven other rocks of varying shapes and sizes lying along nearby areas. The most astute might note that taken together, the fallen rocks formed a rough line about twenty feet long: A test, perhaps, as much as it was an expression of immature frustration.
Coming from the opposite direction, but trailing a hand along the invisible barrier in case there might be an equally invisible door, was a somewhat older girl holding a lute that had until quite recently been a guitar. Of course her robes and boots had also quite recently been a mini-dress and cute matching shoes. At least the robes are kinda fancy, Zoe thought, frowning down at the basic leather boots. Stupid Hana and her stupid crush. If she hadn’t been prattling on and on about how he came over and complimented their playing… But she had, and Zoey had pretended to see something and dropped back because otherwise she was going to snap and scream ‘He was just being nice!’ Because it was, like, obvious that the only reason he’d even said anything was that ‘nice’ was his default setting. How anyone could have a crush on someone like that when there were hunky Marines around…
She paused at the sight of the little …elf? she guessed given how everything else around here looked. “Hey, do you know what’s going on?”
“No.” Raikael glared at the seeming nothingness ahead of them, then threw another rock that bounced like the rest. “But about where those rocks are; if you walk into it there’s something there, cloaked or something. If you walk into it you end up on your ass. Not sure how big it is or how far it goes but I haven’t found a gap yet.” The frustrated scowl gave way to an appraising half-smile. “Though, I gotta say I’m liking the throwing stars and the lock-picking kit!” She briefly pulled aside half her half-cloak to show the items in question off, alongside a few other items like a dagger and some rope. “What’s that?” She pointed curiously at the lute.
“Yeah, I’ve been walking along it looking for a break,” Zoe said, nodding toward the hand trailing fingers along the barrier. “And the instrument used to be a guitar. I think what it is now was called a lute.” She looked more closely at the girl, who she saw now wasn’t an elf but a Romulan; one she’d seen before too. “Hey, you’re that kid that follows Arnason around the hospital sometimes. Aren’t you a little young for throwing stars and daggers?”
“…No?” Raikael shrugged. “I’m 10. I’ll be 11 this next year even. I carry a dagger every day. If the lute used to be a guitar, actually; the ninja stars probably used to be my Orion throwing knives.” She fingered one, noting the little gems at the center of them even, just like the bejeweled throwing knives. And at least being pegged as ‘that kid who follows Arnason around’ was way better than the other thing any of the colony’s teens and children could have gone with on her: ‘aren’t you one of the principal’s kids?’.
“… and I know you said that you were thinking it was not this Q, whoever this Q is, but if we happen to find whoever this Q is in the middle of this, would it not stand to reason that this entity – or person – is responsible?”
Seshi was red-faced by the time they made it this far out. And had ranted first about Q, then about Starfleet, then about how wild and crazy the atmosphere on Xaeprea was, and followed it right back up with their most out there lead.
“I know humanity does not have the most positive marks on their ‘colonize other people’ scoreboard,” she continued in annoyance, “But this is absolutely ridiculous – and…” Her annoyance petered out upon sight of the two youths that they happened to be approaching. “I’d be on about how late at night it is for you two, but I think we’re beyond that point.”
Raikael started to give Seshi a tween ‘whatever’ shrug; noticed the arrival and identity of the next person, Gunnar, and switched to a hopeful expression perking up on her face as if she’d found the object of a search, though looked puzzled when he arrived with Cornelius; and then very quickly shifted emotional resonance again when she spotted Caithlin, actually going slightly paler in the flickering-oil-lamp darkness with a moment of fear or uncertainty passing over her face before she made a visible effort to conceal it and stood a little straighter than before.
Caithlin, for her part, didn’t say anything; she simply stopped in front of her niece and raised a silent, questioning eyebrow paired with a penetrating stare that was apparently quite clear to the youngster in question.
“I heard T’Ango was in town! Devora said she was on a ship that–” Raikael abruptly stopped herself; possibly aware she was about to give away information she didn’t have to. “I went looking for her. But then this happened.” The girl waved a hand at the invisible barrier.
“This.” Caithlin’s voice had the same sort of dubiousness that a human might append ‘air quotes’ to, looking at the collection to strewn rocks, and she strode forward…And went slightly too far and bumped against the invisible stop. Like aunt as with niece, though in a rather more impressive vein, there was an immediate change of focus and reaction, any displeasure with the child seemingly forgotten in the moment as one hand shot out to grab Raikael and wrench her further away from the unseen edge, backpedaling herself slightly to put distance between themselves and it, in case it should prove to hide cover for an adversary, putting a hand back on the elven sword at her hip.
For his part, Gunnar’s reaction to the scene was akin to experiencing whiplash. Starting with surprise and alarm that Raikael was out here alone except for a 15 year old (who should also be at home now) swiftly followed by mix of hope/joy/alarm at the idea that T’Ango had been transported into here somewhere, which was rapidly replaced with real alarm at the mention of Devora – that a 12 year old, no matter her demonstrated skill at hacking, could have picked up on a Dosadi Raider that was supposed to be running silent was genuinely concerning. None of this could be right. He didn’t like accusing Raikael of lying, or possibly worse from her point of view, getting pranked by her older sister, but those seemed the only rational (for whatever value of rational could be applied at the moment) explanations. “Raikael,” he said as patiently as possible. “If T’Ango were going to be in town, she would have told me. And I would have told you.”
“T’Ango?” Zoe managed to ask, utterly perplexed by the whole conversation, and even more so upon realizing the big barbarian warrior dude in the party was of all people, Arnason.
“She’s a friend of ours.” Raikael said to Zoe, killing two birds with one stone by using the answer to buy some time for herself while she rapidly debated the merits of revealing or not revealing the information she’d left out earlier, like a rabbit in a trap, debating which foot to cut off to save itself. “And no, really. Devora looked at the spaceport logs.” Now, the little Romulan seemed confused by Gunnar’s insistence that he had no idea what she was talking about. “And she showed them to me. We were trying to see if the ship transporting my horses was here yet.”
Now, Raikael frustratedly pursed her lips, thinking; and seemingly completely unperturbed by the admission of ‘we got into the spaceport logs’. In short order she frowned, waffling on whether to voice a potentially embarrassing theory or not before speaking again. “I mean. I suppose the guy who does the logs might’ve fat fingered a copy-entry from the last time she was here, if he was trying to be lazy with copying in the names of some of the other regulars who arrived today and got that one by mistake. But you’re sure she isn’t here?” There was a distinct resigned disappointment in the girl’s voice.
While Cornelius had done his best to ignore the ongoing nature of teenage drama that followed children, he had been paying attention still. He’d run one of the daggers across the barrier, which had responded only by applying about equal force back to him and not yielding in any way. Looking over his shoulder from where he was crouched, he offered his two cents, saying “You’d have to be pretty ballsy as a controller to do that, each flight has its own unique ID tag and flight code. If the ship was reported as returning and had the same flight code, then the controller could get his or her wrist slapped.” Turning back to where he was situated he aggressively thrust the long knife into the barrier, and landed flat on his ass for his efforts. Standing he dusted himself off, and sighed. “Not that that tidbit of information does any of us any good right this second.”
“It does not.” Caithlin agreed; and her eyes narrowed considering the information her niece had divulged, and the nature of life with multiple teenagers and children; the sort of things she and her siblings and cousins had attempted to put over on one another when they were young; and the items ruled out; coming to at least one situation with a likely conclusion; if only she could say the same about the barrier. “I suspect the person who forged anything was her sister. It would be well within Devora’s skills to fabricate what looks like a control log as a prank on her sisters.” Caithlin sighed. “You didn’t see the search query entry itself did you?”
“…No.” Raikael finally admitted, blushing; and if Romulans rolled their eyes as a gesture, Caithlin would have.
“This is a lesson, then.” The former senator said to her wayward niece. “Confirm your information, especially if you did not personally access the source.” Now her voice took on a touch of dry humor. “And expect that your sister has locked you out of the house.” She slapped a hand pettishly against the barrier; with slightly more care than Cornelius had, to avoid ending up on her rear. “Not that it appears to matter; as the house is out there.”
Caithlin frowned, and set the issue of immature pranks and potential punishment for the parties involved—one for concocting it and the other for falling for it—aside for the moment in favor of more urgent issues, looking away from Raikael and Zoe and turning back to the other three adults. “The records you said existed, of similar instances within the fleet. Do they give any clue how to solve the situation or breach the barrier? Perhaps we might manage to collapse it? Or…Are any of you carrying anything we might use to try and dig under it, perhaps?”
“The situation varied by what, or who, caused it. Advanced matter/energy conversion usually had its limits, but god-like beings… ” Gunnar rolled his eyes with an exasperated expression, “…usually there was some game they were going to make everyone play.” He looked at the barrier, or rather the empty space where the scattering of recently thrown rocks roughly defined it to be. Then looked around at the equipment hanging off of the others, and drew the broad sword from his belt.
Zoe gasped, surprised both by the sudden draw and the fact that he’d drawn it smoothly, as if he’d had practice. Weirder was that he was facing the barrier. She peered through it, looking for whatever had prompted that. “Is something out there?”
Gunnar’s brows lifted, then he nearly laughed, realizing how he must look. “No. At least not that I can see, but seeing if we could dig under it is worth a try and no one has a shovel, so…” he reached forward with his free hand to find the barrier, then flipped the sword and drove it two handed at a shallow angle under where the edge would meet the ground.
Feeling the tip hit something solid, he tried pushing, and then giving that up, drew the sword back and slid it almost vertical down the barrier until the hilt hit the ground. “Nope.” Gunnar blew out a breath and pulled the sword up. “If there a way out underneath, it’s more than meter down.”
“Can’t go under it, can’t go through it, can’t go around it…” Cornelius sang-songed his way through the bit, as he studied Gunnnar’s work. “And I’d bet against Ferengi we can’t go over it. Otherwise I bet you the good Captain would have a shuttle overhead or his new Marine buddies punching down to help here. So, escape is off the table, you mentioned games?”
“The only game you could play with all this stuff is ‘Dungeons and Dragons’, maybe.” Raikael said rolling her eyes perfectly, far more attuned with human gestures than her aunt. “Devora used to play that on Earth with these kids from school, this one dude had a big holo-gaming table at home.”
“I think he means more a puzzle, perhaps.” Caithlin said, frowning. “If so, however, whomever they are seems disinclined to announce their intent or desires.”
“It could be both,” Gunnar said, wiping the dirt off the sword, this time in a far less experienced manner – more the way one might wipe down a farm implement. “In at least a couple instances from Kirk’s day there was some kind of test involved or a morality play the beings running it wanted to observe to evaluate people. With Q… generally it was coercion in one form or another.” He resheathed the sword and straightened. “Or it could be something else entirely. Either way, if we can’t get out, we should go back to the town and work out what resources we have in terms of food, water, shelter, and medical supplies.”
“Alright. Whatever the law office has turned into–” Caithlin arched an appraising eyebrow at various buildings in the distance that were not as they usually were, “–perhaps I will still have a key to it. If not, we can pick the lock to something.”
Seshi waved a hand. Coercion, puzzles. It all would have been quite enjoyable for her if she was not so worried about the disruption of colony life. There were holodecks for that. “I can’t imagine the food has turned into a giant flying elephant, so we should -“
There was a loud scream, followed by the sight of a young couple, similarly dressed to everyone else, running out of a nearby alleyway. Behind them, a giant crate hopped after them, with gangly arms. It’s lid was popped open, revealing the rows of teeth and long, gnarly tongue that came out, along with the snarling noises that came with it. Despite the lack of eyes, the creature turned toward the collective group, before letting out a hideous snarl at them and hopping with an uncanny speed in their direction.
“Shapeshifter?!?” Caithlin exclaimed with the first thing that came to mind at the sight of what to all visual evidence at least appeared to be basically a piece of living luggage. “I thought they all went back to the Gamma Quadrant!” She’d drawn the sword her new attire came with, and placed herself squarely in the creatures path between it and her niece.
“I don’t think that’s a shapeshifter; it’s a–” Raikael tried to say, but was cut off by her aunt speaking to the other adults.
“If you know how to use that; draw.” Caithlin said to Gunnar, indicating his sword. “If you do not, pass it to Cornelius.” She had no idea whether the bar owner knew how, either; but since he’d spent time on the homeworld, it at least seemed a better chance he might. Unfortunately, what they really needed here was a disruptor or a phaser, but the ones she’d had on her seemed to have vanished with the shift.
Gunnar had briefly frozen in disbelief – all he could think of was an old earth comedy fantasy series with a sentient wooden luggage trunk – but Caithlin’s order snapped him out of it. He did draw, and then promptly reverse the sword to hand the hilt to Cornelius. “Here. If we have to fight a wooden crate, I’d much prefer an axe anyway,” he said, but left the axe hanging on his belt and pulled the shield off his back. “Though if it’s sentient maybe we can avoid a fight.”
So saying, he swung the shield into a half-guard position and stepped in front of the others to put himself squarely in the path of the crate thing. “Hey! Whoa there. We don’t want to hurt you.”
Grasping the sword that was proffered to him, Cornelius hefted the blade in his left hand. With a quick spin of the blade, his face became a wicked grin. Reaching up, he unclasped the bit that held his cloak in place and shrugged it to the ground. “You know, the long sword was never my go-to. However, this… daddy likes,” his tone changing as he straightened up. While Gunnar had made it clear he was going to try and talk to the beast, with an eye to Caithlin, he cocked an eyebrow and gripped the sword more firmly. Adopting a hanging right stance, ready to defend or stab down if needed.
Raikael shifted slightly, staying behind the adults, but angling herself to be able to see some of the approach angles they couldn’t…just in case some second weird thing decided to come at them from behind or something. In the absence of an energy weapon, or even a sword or ax, she drew a dagger; albeit one somewhat longer and differently shaped than her usual, and one of the throwing stars. “You got anything on you besides the lute?” She asked Zoe, then shrugged. “I guess if you don’t, if anything tries to get at us from your side, just hit it with the lute, maybe.”
“I’m not breaking my lute!” Zoe replied, aghast at the idea, but a weapon did seem like a good idea and everyone else seemed to have one, and if whatever had done this has had given Arnason of all people several… she quickly patted down her cloak and vest, searching. “I have a…” She pulled out slender metallic object, then frowned. “…flute.” Putting it back, she continued, finding a hard harp, a small tinderbox, a quill… Working her way down she finally pulled something from her boot. “Ah ha! Dagger!” She waved it triumphantly.
The monster, unfettered by the number of people who seemed ready to take it on, let out an ear-piercing battle cry upon sight of blades. It charged forward at the shielded foe in front of it, teeth bared and flashing.
“It’s quite alright!” shouted Seshi, stepping off to one side and holding out a hand. She didn’t wait for any confirmation from anyone who may have had more combat experience than she did (most of them), instead shaking her hand and trying to summon forth one of those fire balls she threw earlier. The crate-monster seemed to be made of wood, so it only made sense!
Instead, she sneezed, and a cold chill ran down her body and her shoulder grew a little heavy.
“Hiya!” Resting upon her shoulder was an overgrown banana with two equally large eyes. It spoke by flapping it’s upper half and lower half, as if it were cut in two. It gasped. “IT’S A MIMIC! KILL IT!”
Surrounded as they were by the incomprehensible and the surreal, Caithlin had no idea what a ‘mimic’ was in this context, but was more than willing to follow that second exhortation, and came to a quick decision. She glanced over at Gunnar, who had perhaps the best weapon in this case other than the absent fireballs, but whom she unfortunately doubted would use it as quickly or aggressively as required here. “Give me the ax!” She ordered him, one hand reaching out for it as the other slashed forward with the weapon she did have, which given the target, she expected would mostly accomplishing a holding action only at the moment.
Gunnar had more immediate things on his mind than passing a weapon. On his own, he might have side-stepped and let the ‘mimic’ (whatever that was) rush past him – simply getting out of the way and adding a push to send an attacker flying was a good part of the one martial art he learned to get through Starfleet’s hand-to-hand requirement. However there were people, including children, behind him. So instead he’d gripped the shield with both hands and braced, and after absorbing the hit, pushed to fling it away …Except it hadn’t flung away. What the..?
A few seconds later, still ax-less, Caithlin had to downgrade ‘holding action’ in her mind to a series of abrupt exclamations and Romulan curses that roughly translated to a ruder version of ‘what the hell?!’, pulling on the blade the was now stuck to the ravenous travel trunk. It took all of her not-insubstantial strength and several attempts to finally pry it loose, and she backpedaled. In frustration, she picked up one of the rocks Raikael had been chucking at the barrier earlier and threw it towards the creature as a moment of distraction. The rock also stuck, which led to another set of ‘the universe has gone mad’-meaning complaints rapidly under her breath in her native tongue, but also, the beginnings of an idea that was pure desperation, and she backed off the front of the fight for a moment to let others take the brunt of it for a moment.
Gunnar had thought the thing was clinging to the shield somehow – until he saw Caithlin’s sword stick to it. As she struggled to withdraw it, he pulled, hoping it would have to give one way or the other. Unfortunately for him, it released the sword and then extended some sort of pseudopod and started batting at him, trying to grab a hold. Helvitis! Unable to think of any other way to dislodge it, Gunnar lifted the shield and then used it to slam the attached trunk into the ground. And when the thing kept trying to glom onto him, he did it again. And again, pounding it into the pavement until it let go and …oozed away from his shield before reforming.
Watching the failings of his party members, Cornelius switched tactics, reaching down and drawing a blade from his boots (how many had this change given him?), while swinging the sword he’d taken from Gunnar to a reverse grip. The attacks clearly injured the creature, but it was changing shape as it went, not holding. Anything that might pull him in was going to set the critter off and pull him into a weaker spot. But with some many daggers to play with, losing one or two didn’t seem the worst. With a speed that surprised even himself, he parried around the other two, and rammed the small dagger down hard into the creature. The mimic recoiled and let out a scream, but the dagger held firm.
Caithlin lunged for the long cloak discarded by Cornelius at the start of the fight and grabbed it off the ground, then dashed back towards the fight and their strange attacker and lunged forward close enough to throw the cloak over the creature to blind it. At first, it seemed like the idea had worked; the cloak stuck like the rock had. A few moments later, though, the cloak dropped to the ground, freeing their enemy once more, and Caithlin’s mouth may actually have dropped open a few centimeters.
“I was just growing fond of that,” Cornelius playful moped as he moved around the Romulan. “It seems to be moving around our attacks too freely, perhaps we might need something a little more tactile to hold it still,” he nodded to the wiggling dagger that the mimic seemed unable to loose. “Good doc, keep it that way to you off your shield, and let’s see if this works a little better…” he mused, swinging the sword around once more and approaching the creature. With all the might of a hero of old, Cornelius drove the blade as hard down the centre of the beast, driving with his weight as he felt flesh and goo part until the blade sunk deep into the earth beneath it. To his own dismay, the creature continued to move, so, with a practiced grace he was sure was part of the new persona, he dropped back, rolling out of the creature’s flailing reach. “All you two now.”
“Great…” Gunnar frowned – how in the name of whatever gods were undoubtly laughing at this scene had he been cast as a warrior? Not that it mattered much since the hand held weapons they had were obviously not all that effective, and despite any number of jokes about a tendency to run toward danger he was not flinging himself on top of that thing so he could beat it with the shield. He did however grab a log from a stack of firewood to bat back a pseudopod reaching for Caithlin. And promptly lost the log to the sticky appendage. “Seshi, now would be a good time to try a fireball. Even flaming banana.”
“I’m working on it!” Up to this point, the banana in question clung to the side of Seshi’s head, all but screaming about mimics. How it did that with no arms and legs? Seshi would not give herself time to ask, as she shooed the creature off of her shoulder and held her hand out to summon another ball of flames. Instead of what she expected, however, the ground underneath the monstrous crate bubbled momentarily, shimmering in the dim candlelight. This went unnoticed by the creature, until it hopped forward to attack, slipping forward and landing face-end first. It snarled, trying to upright itself with monstrous arms, only managing to flail helplessly as it slipped on the slick film over the ground.
Seshi tilted her head at the sight, before shrugging and looking to the others. “It’s better than a banana!”
“Definitely. I believe there is a human saying: If it’s stupid but it works, it isn’t stupid.” Caithlin replied, having ducked to the back closer to Raikael and Zoe before now darting back to the front. Exactly why she had made this detour became clear a moment later, when she cocked an arm back in a way that would have done a baseball pitcher proud and hurled something at the flailing creature, which didn’t just ‘stick’ but buried itself halfway into it: One of the six throwing stars Raikael had been showing off earlier. It was followed seamlessly by a second, then a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth, all thrown with as much force as Caithlin could muster; the last three each hitting the creature drawing not a snarl from it but an eerie monstrous keening as it continued to be unable to right itself or avoid the strikes on the slickened area.
“That looks like oil,” Zoe said, and fumbled in her pack for the tinderbox she’d found before. Finding it, she triumphantly pulled out the flint and striker. “Come on, come on…” she muttered trying to produce enough spark to light a handful of gathered sawdust. “This always looks easy on the holovids…”
“Yeah it takes a little more work. Try it again, if you can’t get it give it to me and I’ll try it.” Raikael said.
Cornelius’ eyes darted from the fire to the oil, to Zoe. He took a few uneasy paces back to put some space between him and the creature. “Remember that flaming oil can still be tossed about,” he said, moving to scoop up his now somewhat disgusting cloak. This wasn’t some vanity grab though, should this go horribly wrong from the perspective of catching someone else on fire the thick material would be good to smother the flames.
Caithlin, meanwhile, was doing something that seemed truly bizarre; rolling up her sleeves and taking a small dagger out of one boot, darting forward to actually dip it in the oil slick. The point became clear a moment later when she snatched the flint and striker from Zoe, held it out from her body and lit the oil coating the blade, cursing as the splatters burned small spots on her hands and wrist, then hurling it, burning, at the creature. Like the throwing stars before it, it sunk itself far enough in that the creature apparently couldn’t simply discard it easily like the cloak and rocks; and the flames started to spread to the puddle and the creature itself as it flailed.
Not even imagining that she’d try any such thing after Cornelius’ warning of a moment before, Gunnar hadn’t caught the motion until it was too late. But now the creature had ignited and its death throws were literally throwing sparks and flame – at buildings around them that was mostly made of wood. Frak.
“Get back!” he yelled, physically pulling Zoe up and back since she was still focusing on her flint and not what was actually on fire. “Everyone, back, NOW!” He spared a glance at the nearest structure as he retreated, sincerely hoping no one lived in the shop, or if they did, they’d heard the ruckus outside and run already.
Caithlin had backed away to a carefully calculated distance once she’d thrown the knife; and looked, if anything, somewhat bewildered that not everyone had done similar automatically. One person who had was Raikael; who hadn’t pre-emptively moved like her aunt, but had at least begun rapidly backpedaling at the first hint of trouble.
Seshi, in all her robes and finery, had taken a couple of steps back. But she stamped her foot down. Whatever was happening here had given her zany abilities and odd creatures for them to ward off. She held a hand out, concentrating hard on the flames as they grew. Either she was going to sit here and cast spells that had varying effectiveness against their opponent, or she was actually going to do some good here.
“I think we’ve seen enough here!” she proclaimed, making a motion with her outstretched hand. As she did, flames erupted from her hands, and a large fireball went hurtling at the beast. As it hit, the ball erupted, and suddenly Seshi was much less bold as the sight of the nearby buildings and carts caught aflame.
“Well, that’s not a raincloud,” she stated, annoyed. “That’s the exact opposite of a raincloud.” Sighing, she turned to the others, beginning to make her steps toward a hasty retreat. “I’ll… have to make sure that gets fixed whenever we’re out of this.”
Gunnar dropped Zoe at a good distance from the flames and looked back, cursing under in his breath in four languages. “We need to raise an alarm, raise an alarm and find water or something to fight that before it spreads to more inhabited parts of town.”
“If this weird effect is similar to holoprograms, then there should be some kind of central bell alarm. We find that we can alert a lot of people at once,” Cornelius called out, drawing the sword from where he’d driven it and the creature had escaped from.
“If we can find or improvise as decent digging implement; we could also attempt to dig a fire break line between and around the burning structures and the rest of town.” Caithlin eyed the now much-larger fire with a cautious, appraising eye, and one got the feeling she had seen half a town aflame before; possibly in the riots and chaos that had popped up here and there during the fall of the Empire.
While the group discussed their firefighting efforts, a crack of thunder could be heard overhead. A couple of raindrops plopped nearby, but those couple turned into a light drizzle, before it started to pour down upon the block, the group, the now dying creature, and the now burning building.
Seshi let out a disapproving noise at the sky, pulling her robes over her head and looking about for more appropriate cover. “Which way did you say the direction of the Silver Tongue was, Mr. Warner?”