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Post by Phagetthree on Mar 10, 2010 23:43:36 GMT 8
"Ah, my apologies, then, if what you say is indeed true."
Kane considered the seeming indifference with which they adapted the house to their needs. Was it pragmatism, or a disrespect for property? Nevertheless, he was glad that they so readily accepted him into their party. This was surely part of the Emperor's will and plan.
"Well, all that I need in my lodging is a weapon rack and a good supply of metal polish. The Emperor and I thank you for your accommodation."
Who is Miyo? Is he or she the leader of this group? That seems likely.
The Emperor had been silent for a while.
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Post by schrodinger on Apr 17, 2010 21:30:42 GMT 8
Hmm. No response. I suppose I should leave them to it.
Turning away from the door, Venser retraced his footsteps, eventually winding up back outside. The man in the metal suit was still there, but a new person had arrived on the scene. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have been all that remarkable, and the ironclad fellow would have been the more striking of the two. However, it was pretty hard for Venser to tear his attention away from her, given that she was holding some sort of power tool in a manner that suggested either a penchant for woodworking or a taste for messy, messy murder.
Well, hurrah. Who needs to go out and make new enemies when you've got your friendly neighborhood homicidal maniacs?
At that point he (rather serendipitously) noticed Constantine standing off to one side with an assortment of oddities about his person.
The world just keeps on getting stranger and stranger. What's going on here?
A moment's concentration later, he'd gleaned the salient details from their thoughts, and though this afforded some sorely required understanding on the situation, it certainly did not diminish its strangeness.
"Could you curb your enthusiasm for a bit, miss? Our esteemed friend has indicated his preference for a garage as his domicile, so I don't quite see how demolishing a perfectly good wall helps our cause. I can understand the need for raw materials, but surely gratuitous property damage isn't the answer? One busted wall is one too many, I'd say."
He looked around at their environs. If wood was all Constantine needed to work with, then...
"Kane. Do you think you can do a little gardening?"
The courtyard they were in was tastefully decorated, with a few well-pruned shrubberies lending an air of refinement, a modest flowerbed adding a splash of color... and a number of trees, positioned so as to provide shade on sunny days. Gesturing to them, Venser surreptitiously raised an eyebrow at Kane.
"I think you can surmise where I'm going with this. How many of them do you think you'll need to appropriate to supply the housing effort?"
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Post by Carillus on Apr 17, 2010 22:42:20 GMT 8
"Well, curb it I would, but..."
Jessica gestured nonchalantly at the wall that now stood - and laid - in five separate, uneven pieces.
"Besides, he'll be needing to move around as well. Please don't root the trees - they're precious around these parts. Especially those - Miss Bazritz had them specially planted seven years ago." Jessica motioned toward the trees previously doomed to an untimely death by Venser.
At this point, a grand cacaphony of jet engine and whirling wind came rushing down around them. Jessica's cardigan shifted slightly to form a kind of earmuff, but she was otherwise unperturbed.
The garage lay on the front lawn - still facing somewhat off, since its front door was pointing somewhere remotely in the direction of the hydrangea pots in the living room planter - but otherwise there. Above, screaming, was the silhouette of a VTT-01 heavy lifter.
"Besides, the garage is here. Constantine, cleaning duty's on you."
Jessica turned toward the hovering craft, and gesturing wildly with her hands, started to direct the placement of the giant block of preprocessed concrete.
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Post by Phagetthree on Apr 18, 2010 2:42:01 GMT 8
Kane watched as the airship slowly settled his new abode next to the main structure.
"That was quick."
Looking down at Jessica, he gave her a nod of thanks with a slight inclination of his helmet.
Once the garage had been settled down and firmly integrated into the building, Kane stepped into the wide open space and noted the tough looking walls and clean, simple interiors.
He stepped out again.
"This is very good, I thank you again for your hospitality."
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Post by Carillus on Apr 20, 2010 21:13:58 GMT 8
"No problem. Need anything else, just give me a call - or this lady over here." Jessica motioned to the pilot, who waved back at Kane.
"Jennifer's the one who helps us with all our lifting needs. Anything you want, she'll get it over in a jiffy. She'll be working with you guys from now on as well, so get to know her. Best dropship pilot you'll ever know - the only one who flies without an escort, and seven confirmed enemy fighter kills."
Jessica pulled out a small device and threw it over to Venser.
"Use this to keep in touch. It's a direct rangeless communicator with Blitz Regia - Jennifer's callsign. Just give a ping if you need anything."
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Post by Phagetthree on Apr 20, 2010 23:15:53 GMT 8
Kane!
The sudden resurgence of the Emperor in his thoughts jolted Kane to full consciousness.
"Yes. Emperor!"
Your Loyalty and Honor are no longer in question. Return to the Imperium, as enemies converge on us on all sides! All units are being recalled as we speak, return!
Warmth flooded through Kane as he heard those words.
I am... Forgiven?
Red hot hatred soon followed as he heard the rest.
"At once, Mighty Emperor!"
And Kane was gone in a flash, but on the desk lay a scrap of paper, which read,
Honored inhabitants, the Imperium is grateful for your hospitality, no matter how shortlived the stay was. Should you encounter any of our worlds in your travels, you will be afforded the same hospitality that you have afforded to Kane.
And beneath the sheet of paper lay a golden seal of the Emperor.
OOC: Kane the 2nd (actual char) on the way soon xD
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Post by Phagetthree on Apr 22, 2010 1:26:22 GMT 8
Faranella had long lost track of time. Time itself seemed to hold no meaning in the nothingness, she could have been holding her breath for seconds or for years, she could not tell.
Another rift opened up within the nothingness, it's maw stretching wider to accommodate she, her armor, and weapon. As she passed through it, what she glimpsed was a large mansion, and standing outside were two young men, and another young woman wearing earmuffs. Unable to alter her trajectory, and barely holding on to consciousness, she slammed into the side of the house, her helmet falling off her head and rolling a short distance away.
"Unghh..." She exhaled, at last, and the great darkness finally claimed her.
[[OOC: passed out, not dead :V. just to clarify.]]
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Post by schrodinger on Apr 24, 2010 2:33:52 GMT 8
Dear me, what's going on here?
Even before she'd made her presence known by ceremoniously crashing into the side of a building, Venser had been clued in to the lady's arrival by the sudden spike of emotions in the area, as well as the distinctive mana signature of a warp between worlds. Neither of these lasted very long - she quickly fell unconscious, and whatever machination it was that had brought her to this world rapidly faded, but he was sure that he'd sensed it.
As a result, he wasn't quite as taken aback by her sudden appearance as the others were, but he was no less perplexed by it. A myriad of questions presented themselves: Who was she? Where was she from, and how had she traveled between worlds? Was she dangerous to them?
And most pressingly: was she alive, and was she going to remain that way for a prolonged period of time? Naturally, only an affirmative answer would give him the chance to uncover the answers that he sought. Kneeling down to check her pulse, he took note of her trappings.
I'd thought these to be outmoded by modern standards. Interesting. Could be a clue as to her plane of origin.
"I believe some medical attention is required here, people!", he called to the others, waving at Kamin and Constantine to take a closer look at the woman who'd just dropped in.
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Post by Carillus on Apr 25, 2010 22:45:36 GMT 8
Kamin had stayed silent for much of the previous duration, watching with earnest and somewhat mild amusement at the proceeds of the rather surreal episode involving four tons of power armor, a chainsaw and a modular garage.
What she hadn't expected was the simultaneous disappearance of said four tons of power armor, and the warping in of a complete stranger who had flown headlong into the reinforced SprayCrete of the garage. The garage had a bit of a crack; the stranger, suffice to say, did not fare as well.
Venser's quick exclamation was already late - Kamin had almost instantly taken a spot at the stranger's side, her nimble hands quickly removing various articles of armour, running her fingertips along the high-stress points of the body, checking for fractures, internal bleeding, anything - the experienced analysis of a veteran first aider she never remembered she had.
"Two fractured ribs. Displaced collarbone. bruising along the chest and arm. We have to get her to a hospital asap!"
Well, they did have a healer in the house, but that was more for battlefield aid than anything else - this sort of thing was best left to the professionals.
"Venser, help me get this armour off. Constantine, don't just stand there, go do something! The communicator! Jessica just left, someone call her or something!"
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Post by schrodinger on Apr 27, 2010 23:44:39 GMT 8
I suppose this isn't the time to be preoccupied with propriety - it's not every day a man gets license to disrobe a lady.
"Yes, alright. The communicator's with me, by the way...I'll let Constantine handle it."
Tossing the device towards Constantine, much as Jessica had tossed it towards him earlier, Venser directed his attention to the unconscious woman at his feet. The make of her armor was unfamiliar to him, but locating its various clasps and buckles was fairly simple, and he managed to undo them in a matter of minutes.
"As a gentleman, I leave the actual removal of these articles to your able hands whilst I avert my eyes from any immodesty that might ensue. Please exercise your discretion as a lady in informing me whether or not she's appropriately dressed."
Rising, he turned to look at the house, and mused aloud, "Do you think we should ask Sierra to attend to this unfortunate lady's wounds for the time being? She may or may not be in critical condition at the moment - I don't think we should be leaving her life up to chance when we have the means to preserve it."
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Post by RaineScarlet on Apr 30, 2010 4:52:38 GMT 8
Sierra had been exploring the rest of the house, testing out her now-foreign vessel, taking in the sights, sounds, smells, and so forth. The smell of food from the kitchen was especially...
.. So tantalizing and potent that she barely noticed what was taking place outside the house. Someone new had joined the party: a humanoid figure of mammoth-like proportions. This was noted, and then almost instantly shoved to the side by, again, the lovely smell of food. She would have continued picking her way awkwardly towards the kitchen if the spirits had not forcibly sent a shock through her system.
Si-er-ra!!
The undine yelped in surprise as a wave of magic energy shot through her body.
Stop getting ... lost. Someone needs ... you.
She swallowed guiltily and lifted her hand to form a wall of ice, blocking the nearly debilitating smell from the kitchen. Something she would have to get used to. She smacked herself in the face once and took off towards the front door, tripping a few times, but finally arriving at the scene, though no completely unscathed.
"I ... apologize." Sierra huffed, even though the distance from the kitchen hallway to the front door wasn't even that far. She made a beeline towards the woman who had crashed into the side of the house, knowing exactly what had happened, as the spirits had already filled her in.
"I will, as suggested, begin treating her, just in case," she said, kneeling before the newcomer and humming the first, forlorn note of her melody.
I will sing you a song of energy.
As Sierra thought this, the song began to form. The spirits, aware that the undine's new body was probably not suited to use magic that was too potent at the moment, pulled the melody out gently, glowing as they drifted around the immobile woman on the ground.
[OoC: Oh it's ... because her old body used moisture in order to "taste" her surroundings, and now she is experiencing a lot of things for the first time.]
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Post by Phagetthree on May 2, 2010 2:18:24 GMT 8
Faranella languished within the absolute nothingness. She could vaguely understand that she was no longer in her home world, at the altar, with her comrades.
A faint light glimmered within the darkness, drawing her towards it, as it extended itself towards her, encompassing her, and drawing her out of the endless void.
Her eyelids twitched open, a bare crack, and a beam of sunlight flared into existence. As she attempted to sit up, pain shot up through her torso, forcing her to flinch and grab at her wound with her left hand. And saw that it was no longer recognizable.
It wasn't long after the shock that she finally noticed the multitude of other people gathered around her. One who seemed very noticeably learned, a girl with a long ponytail, and another, who was singing a song over her.
"Thank you, I... What happened? My hand, it's corrupted! Where's my armor...? My sword?"
Her right hand felt about and curled about the comforting grip of the Soul Keeper.
Faranella slipped into a more relaxed position again as the soothing effect of Sierra's spell eased her pain.
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Post by schrodinger on May 3, 2010 2:56:49 GMT 8
Interesting sense of priorities she's got there.
"Calm down, miss. You've been injured, possibly very badly, and while Sierra here can ease your pain at present, this is palliative treatment, and you will need to be attended to by proper physicians. Don't put too much of a strain on yourself at the moment."
Venser knelt and looked into Faranella's (her name, apparently) eyes, checking for signs of concussion. Her pupils were of even size, without signs of being unfocused, so there were no outward symptoms on that front. But what lay behind?
He reached out with his mind, taking a metaphysical step into her psyche. Immediately he was assaulted with a barrage of tangential thoughts, Faranella's concerns and questions nearly palpable to his senses, and though he didn't know enough about her to assign any depth of meaning to them, there was one thing that each of them led to: how she'd been brought to this world.
Scarcely had he realized this when the world shifted around him - an intensely surreal sensation of having one's senses reworked into someone else's sensorium, like losing oneself in another's life, a shift in perspective so profound that it invalidated one's own existence - a flash of adrenaline and desperation later, he'd relived the last few moments that Faranella had spent on her own world before she lost consciousness.
I see...that answers the question of who you are. But who are you?
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Post by theburntone on May 5, 2010 0:10:48 GMT 8
[OOC: Sorry I haven't been here much, I've been RPing on Nations a lot.]
Constantine quickly punched in Jessica's number, then magnetically stuck the communicator to his cheek as he set about sweeping up the dust and dirt he'd been told to get rid of.
"Uh, hi. This is Constantine here. I thought I'd just let you know, we have a badly injured person here. Two cracked ribs and a broken collarbone. She needs transport to a hospital, ASAP."
As he did this, he placed a small static charge on the broom and dustpan he was using. That was all he could do now, given the current lack of power he faced, but it was enough to pick up dust and dirt and make it stick to the cleaning tools. Getting all the dust off would simply require switching off the charge.
A small spark nearly set the broom on fire, but with a quick smack on the floor he managed to put the tiny flame out.
Interesting. My powers are returning...
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Post by Phagetthree on May 28, 2010 23:14:05 GMT 8
When Faranella was sufficiently recovered, mostly thanks to the kindly stranger's magic, she got up and dusted off her tunic in an effort to straighten it.
"Thank you, strangers. You're kind to offer help to one whom you do not know. I can take it from here."
Wincing slightly, Faranella lifted the Soul Keeper to her chest in wordless prayer. Golden runes of power flickered into existence at her hands as the blessing cum healing spell took effect.
A golden shower of light encompassed the group, healing the rest of Faranella's wounds as well as bestowing a blessing upon each individual which boosted every attribute, and the golden glow dimmed in intensity after a few seconds, though a slight glimmer persisted on everyone affected by the blessing.
"Weird..." Faranella said, addressing nobody in particular, instead, seeking an opinion from anyone of them. "All I remember within my last waking moments was the closing of the portal and crushing the orb... That explains my hand, but how did I end up here...?"
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Post by Mathus on May 28, 2010 23:45:07 GMT 8
Sol was just around the corner when he was suddenly bathed in a gold light.
"What the-"
But before he could finished, the light disappeared and it left a slight glow on him.
"Weird, I don't remember anyone who can do that in our group before."
Just as he reached the entrance, he felt a very familiar presence along with severe pain.
"Urgh, what the hell is going on."
A gold ring materialized on his left ring finger before the back of his left hand exploded, literally, spewing a river of blood and forcing him to his knees.
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Post by Phagetthree on Jun 6, 2010 20:33:22 GMT 8
Faranella glanced to her left as her peripheral vision indicated the arrival of another, presumably a member of the group who had so readily provided her assistance.
His hand exploded.
What.
Just then, a roar of sound overhead nearly deafened her as she spun her head upwards. Already disappearing into tiny pinpricks in the distance were strange, self-propelled objects of what looked like very large kites. She pointed at them.
"Hey... What are those? I've never seen them before..."
The spatter of blood reminded her of the newcomer. Setting the Soul Keeper down on her breastplate, she rushed over and tore off a strip of cloth from the leggings of her pants, and started to tie a tourniquet over his arm.
"Stay still, stay still now. Everything's going to be ok."
Pulling the knot tight, she could see the blood flow visibly lessen, and she knelt beside him as she began a basic healing spell.
If only I knew the greater magics of healing! But I've always concentrated so much on combat, I hardly practiced them at all!
The soft golden glow on her hands spread over to Sol's wound, working to close it.
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Post by schrodinger on Jun 8, 2010 4:00:06 GMT 8
A compassionate soul, I see. Though I suppose that members of the Dramatic Injurious Entry club have to help each other out, for obvious reasons.
As admirable as her intentions were, this Faranella's use of magic as a healing agent was remarkably inexpert, and Venser suspected that there was more to Sol's wound than met the eye - after all, in his experience, hands did not typically go explodey-bye as and when they felt like it.
He couldn't actually use healing magic himself - he lacked the proper training for it, and he didn't have the appropriate spell library on him at the moment, but drawing on her existing spell and expanding on it? Certamente.
It was worth noting that Faranella's admittedly rudimentary effort at healing was remarkably fertile ground for him to work on - its simple aim, to heal, could be augmented, refined, and elevated to new levels of power by a more practiced hand. His, of course. Replicating the spell, altering its parameters in different places, adding auxiliary modules to it, reverse-engineered from its own function - all that was old hat, frankly. He'd done the same with dozens of other spells, with varying degrees of craftsmanship and a large range of outcomes over years of magical education, and he'd only ever met with success.
Even as his amplified version of her spell went to work on Sol, Venser tried to pick up on any residual energies that might lead him to a clue on Sol's mysterious hand explosion, searching for anything that would lead to an answer.
Anything.
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Post by schrodinger on Jun 10, 2010 3:57:37 GMT 8
Everything.
For a moment, one breathtaking moment, Venser could see everything. Following the gossamer-thin threads of magic that led from Sol's wound to its cause, like skipping over ethereal lilypads on the surface of the otherworld, he had visions of a familiar glove worn by an unfamiliar person, part of a massive force, bearing down on them, destroying, killing, a counterattack, a pre-emptive strike -
And then he snapped back, the images that had seemed so vivid just seconds ago fading to nothingness in his memory. He was standing in the courtyard of his abode apparent, with an unconscious man at his feet, and he was still none the wiser as to just how events had transpired in this manner. He could just barely recall the faintest traces of the vision he'd had, but barring sudden-onset schizophrenia, what he'd seen could only have been real. Yes, really. Issues of reasonable doubt and questionable sanity and reliable testimony aside, his vision could only mean one thing: shit was getting real.
That wasn't a claim born out of his desire to be a fearmonger or anything, he just suspected that a giant army of aliens armed to the teeth weren't swinging by for a spot of tea and a friendly chat, and even if they were, they wouldn't have televised their innocuous intentions by shooting fireballs and launching guerrilla attacks against the locals, or was this some sort of diplomatic flimflam designed to make foreign ambassadors feel completely at ease, with skirmishes instead of handshakes?
He brought himself out of his momentary reverie with a shake of his head, and turned to address the others.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem."
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Post by NPC Controller on Jun 10, 2010 12:25:39 GMT 8
With a roar of six supercharged turbofans, Blitz Regia, which had just disappeared, was suddenly back in sight, and descending before them.
Jessica's head popped out of the rear.
"I got the message about the injured person - where is she? I'll take her to the hospital. But besides that, we've got a bigger issue at hand - our neighbour state's in a bit of trouble, and we need to send some help over ASAP. The President's requested your help again for this - it seems this one might take a while, but you're one of the best we've got. If you please."
She motioned urgently to the interior of the dropship, even as the large flying vehicle touched itself down on the lawn, sending leaves and grass scuttling across the yard.
With the team inside, the dropship took off, flying quickly toward the New Technia building.
Jessica settled down into her seat, then started to talk. "There's an invasion coming in from the Port, most probably of extraterrestrial origin. We'll be linking up with the Chronosphere strike force, so we're sending you in by the teleporter to the border between Glissan Capella and the Port. Orlania's General, Samantha, has asked for you to hold off a frontline about 5km long to protect the Chronosphere while we evacuate the citizens."
She pulled out several earsets, and passed them to the rest of the crew.
"These will be used to relay information about enemy movements and global commands. I won't be going with you on this mission - you'll be on your own."
[[OoC: Just take it that everyone's inside. Is there anyone still injured :V]]
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Post by Phagetthree on Jun 10, 2010 18:58:36 GMT 8
The soft glow on Faranella's hands rapidly rose in intensity, and it seemed to take a life of its own.
Unsure of what to do, she ceased casting, but the glow stubbornly refused to dissipate, continuing to stitch up Sol's wound with a pair of invisible hands.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem."
The learned man had spoken, and Faranella could tell by his re posturing that he seemed to have had been thinking hard... About something.
Leaving Sol as the now independent spell worked, Faranella made her way back to her armor, putting it back on, clasp by clasp, strap by strap, and found difficulty with some of the more out of reach parts.
Damn, I miss Frederick. Heck, I miss them all. I wonder if I can ever go back, and when that time does come, will I still be willing?
With the breastplate finally secure, not after much stretching and grunting, Faranella bent down to pick up her helmet and dusted it off.
Helmet tucked under her arm and the Soul Keeper strapped safely onto her back, she turned to the sound of gushing wind, to behold the behemoth that bore down upon them.
"By the Godde-!" Was all she could manage before a furiously spinning, airborne leaf struck her in the mouth. Spitting it out, she saw the gargantuan "kite" settle itself down gently onto the grass, while a young girl leaned out and motioned everyone in. Somehow sensing a correlation between the man's revelation and the seeming urgency of their departure, Faranella hurriedly helped her by herding the rest of the group, who were standing about absent mindedly, and carried Sol into the belly of the machine.
Once inside and strapped in with the assistance of the onboard crewman, she couldn't help but pipe up.
"Excuse me, pardon me for my ignorance... But I've never seen or been in one of these before, what are they called? And this headgear, I don't think I can fit my helmet over it... Is it absolutely necessary that I put it on?"
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Post by schrodinger on Jun 12, 2010 3:43:32 GMT 8
"No, I don't suppose you have to put it on, but then again I don't suppose that we have to fly into a killzone to put our heads on the chopping block."
He'd only intended it as an offhand remark, flippant as it was, but as he picked up on the confusion and disorientation that Faranella was experiencing, it became very clear to him that she was not on the same page as the rest of them in a very glaring way. The woman was practically a Luddite in terms of how much she knew about technology, and while he, as a mage, wasn't exactly in a position to espouse its wonders, he at least hailed from a culture that embraced interplanar travel, and had the benefit of knowledge gleaned through various sojourns to other worlds. Perhaps a bit of explanation was required here, for the edification of all. Well, mostly her.
"Think of it as a form of magic, miss."
After all, any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic.
"Use it, and you'll be able to hear voices in your head."
...Though the same could be said of various flavors of hallucinogens.
"If you're lucky, you might even be able to talk back to them. I'm sure you'll agree that such a boon is worth leaving your helmet off, if only for the time being."
His warped sense of humor aside, Venser was struck by one other thng. Kamin had said earlier that Faranella's injuries were serious enough to warrant hospitalization, but he couldn't discern any signs of discomfort from Faranella. Had Kamin's diagnosis simply been overly alarmist, or was Faranella simply made from tougher stuff than he'd thought?
Either way, it was a moot point. They were nearing their destination, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. It was almost exactly as he'd envisioned - immense devastation, horrific suffering - it might be a killzone, and they might all be gleefully approaching their demises, but perhaps there was something to be said for having a death wish if it meant granting someone the opportunity to live another day.
He'd been ambivalent about their mission ever since he'd had that vision, but seeing it for himself, close enough to see survivors running desperately from their former homes, presented a very compelling impetus - to soothe their pain, to restore their lives, to strike back against whatever'd brought it all upon them - was he projecting? The same urges had risen within him after he'd had time to contemplate everything he'd done to his alma mater, but that last part had always been beyond his power to palliate precisely because he was the pernicious perpetrator who'd sentenced his entire school to eternal sleep, and he could hardly have avenged them by killing himself.
So that remained a thorn in his side, though he supposed that if he himself were a thorn in his side, it would form a cyclical chain of angst, like some sort of depressive Ouroboros. But it gave him the right perspective to see their current situation as something greater, if somewhat selfish. He couldn't redeem himself completely, not for the time being, but this was an opportunity to save people, and he wasn't going to pass it up.
They'd landed. It was go time.
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