In what seems to be a jail, alarms start blazing and automatic blast doors begin to shutter. Valencia is already running-- there's the sense of a hugely terrifying pressure behind her, one that calls out her name and hunts her down. She escapes out the front to a hail of bullets aimed for what the guardsmen assumed was the creature giving chase-- which she dodges by sliding out and under their fire. She takes out her own rifle and aims for the thing that had quickly caught up (there is another larger man behind him; familiar with redheaded, pointy ears, bushy tail). Her bullets basically vaporize him from the waist up, sending gore and slag all over.
The man who Absolutely Is Not Brocade looks disappointed that the fight is over, but Valencia seems to know it isn't-- she directs the watching guards to run as the undead corpse fully reforms, smelling sickly sweet. Something rises in her chest with the panic, glittering and whispering, coaxing her to death, such that she can barely hear the way both Not-Brocade and the dragon-man attempt to calm her down. Many strange things happen at once, in and out of visual consciousness; a bright light, the cracking of something high above them, the buzzing of wings. Sirens. People screaming. Someone grabbing her-- her own hand driving a knife into their side as they cart her away.
Cracks spidering through the street, where eyes watch her as they run, tracking their movements. They're at the docks, in her ship, and she barely knows how she got here. She has to help (she can't help. There's nothing she can do.)
Valencia falls into practiced, thoughtless motions, as she takes control of her ship and gets them out of that doomed port planet.
3 - Day 242 (Gambling/risk taking or clowns)
---
this thread
tl;dr:
In what seems to be a jail, alarms start blazing and automatic blast doors begin to shutter. Valencia is already running-- there's the sense of a hugely terrifying pressure behind her, one that calls out her name and hunts her down. She escapes out the front to a hail of bullets aimed for what the guardsmen assumed was the creature giving chase-- which she dodges by sliding out and under their fire. She takes out her own rifle and aims for the thing that had quickly caught up (there is another larger man behind him; familiar with redheaded, pointy ears, bushy tail). Her bullets basically vaporize him from the waist up, sending gore and slag all over.
The man who Absolutely Is Not Brocade looks disappointed that the fight is over, but Valencia seems to know it isn't-- she directs the watching guards to run as the undead corpse fully reforms, smelling sickly sweet. Something rises in her chest with the panic, glittering and whispering, coaxing her to death, such that she can barely hear the way both Not-Brocade and the dragon-man attempt to calm her down. Many strange things happen at once, in and out of visual consciousness; a bright light, the cracking of something high above them, the buzzing of wings. Sirens. People screaming. Someone grabbing her-- her own hand driving a knife into their side as they cart her away.
Cracks spidering through the street, where eyes watch her as they run, tracking their movements. They're at the docks, in her ship, and she barely knows how she got here. She has to help (she can't help. There's nothing she can do.)
Valencia falls into practiced, thoughtless motions, as she takes control of her ship and gets them out of that doomed port planet.