Team Registration: The Wanderers

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

Lask's eyes went wide as he watched the awful sweeping motion of the orc as it stood and brandished it's massive weapon, looking down at his traveling companion with the intention to maim, splatter and kill. There was a moment of sympathy with it too, as Nirvana had that effect on people...

But hey, innocent people and all. Poor, unsuspecting cafe. Ooh, there goes a table...

Lask shot forward with the fluid purpose born from hours of training, mistakes and being the Last Man Alive (tm) in many a campaign of his former employers. The sword was too big to use here, and as Nirvana was pushed aside by one of the patrons, he pulled out his own axe and swung. The aim wasn't entirely true, and he hadn't hit the grain (that took great skill, and he hadn't gotten to that point in bar brawls back home) but somehow the blade slipped onto a stress point and at least cracked the damn table enough for it to break somewhat harmlessly against the outside area and out of the way of the rest of the patrons. All of whom were rising up and pulling out all kinds of interesting things.

You really are the Goddess of Chaos, aren't you. He thought miserably as twisted the axe around to meet blade with blade as the Orc swung down, stepping over the tangle of girls. Not an Orc he recognised, which would make negotiations that much harder. Damn it! Nirvana continued to hiss and spit on the floor like an alley-cat, beneath the little woman who had saved her ungrateful arse...

The first blow rebounded with a massive clang as the notched cleaver connected with the metal of the axehead, having enough force to shake Lask and make his ear-drums ring. He gasped, swept his tail down to push Nirvana and her rescuer out the way to notice that the girl was already getting up - was she a fighter? Oh hell's bells!

A moment later he felt claws up his tail and back and Tiddles shot past him, leaped into the face of the orc and propelled him backwards. The critter was generally being a nuisance- not using enough claws to cause that much damage but providing a window of opportunity to escape. It came only a moment too soon; it knocked out one of the lanterns at the ceiling, causing it to drop to the floor and leave everything in odd semi-dark, with only the light from outside to tell friend from foe. And considering the contents of said cafe? It was all they needed. Instinctual rivalries met with egos and the general 'pride of a warrior' to result in a rather large fight. In the corner of his eye Lask saw a dwarven warrior - female by the looks of the beard - take the opportunity to kick the legs out from beneath one of those elven ladies, the troll beset by a few gnomes and a human warrior tangling with...what the hell was that? No, seriously! What the-

An arrow shot between Orc and Wyrm, breaking Lask's concentration and the barkeep started to yell the kind of profanities Lask hadn't heard since the docks. He reached down, grabbed Nirvana with his free hand and held her tightly around the waist, ignoring the drumming of her fists against his side and back and the kicking of her legs out front.

"LADY! WE CAN'T FIGHT IN HERE. NIRVANA, QUIT IT, SERIOUSLY. TIDDLES! FALL BACK! I AM NOT GETTING ANOTHER BAR ON MY DAMN DEBT THANK YOU!"

Because everyone knows the henchmen are the first who get their pay docked when it comes to repairs. They're the ones that do the damage, of course.

He stepped over a couple of chairs, his tail a third hand as he gently - but firmly - swept those gnomes aside and ignored their teeth against his scales, and unjustly threw Nirvana by a trellis to watch her monkey-roll to her feet, cradling her bloody lantern-soul. "STAY." He roared, and even the gnomes obeyed.

He couldn't use his bombs in here. Axe wouldn't provide all that much protection. A furry streak shot out from beneath the canopy and made for the closest tree as a bottle of cheap booze exploded onto the tiles, followed by a splatter of what could be blood. The Orc was wading through all of it like it was nothing, covered in cat-hair and making faces as he pointed at Lask and drew his finger across his throat.

Lask drew his sword, vaguely pleased he at least had open air. "Help? Anyone?" He asked the world, weakly.

[Wings of Endymion]

The lights. They always have to go for the lights… Yuka grumbled groggily to herself as she scrambled to her feet from the hard and slightly sticky floorboards. Out loud, she might have involuntarily loosed a couple of quiet expletives in her native tongue, but since nobody could actually understand her, they didn’t count… did they…? A stinging pain on her forearm let her know that the other lady hadn’t gone down quietly; yep, those were scratch marks all right. The young woman made a face at them as she swiftly gathered her wits.

A quick glance about her was more than enough to let Yuka know that the situation had deteriorated… quite remarkably so, in fact.

Oooh, this is why I hate adventu… in the name of yomi, what in…!? The last of the phrase was directed at a shapeless figure that was drawing the vilest of human screams from a leather-clad warrior not so far away. In the dim light it was either a furry tentapod or a…

Without a second thought she gave the thing a solid whack on its “head” with her staff. Then, instincts got the better of her and she slipped away from the crowded confines of the counter – and the many-sided brawl going on there – and into the open.

“Oh, that’s better…” she relaxed slightly, breathing deeply of the fresh air and heedless of how her words would sound to the draconian warrior who had dragged away from the mess the instigator of it all, that strange-eyed dark-haired lady. Her respite lasted for but a moment, however, as she noticed that his reptilian eyes seemed to be focused behind her rather weakly…

Or maybe not, Yuka sighed as she felt, rather than saw, the bloodthirsty menace of the orc emerging purposefully from the café after her. In an instant, her choices were narrowed to two, and one of them wasn’t really an option; she couldn’t really just abandon everything, could she? Allowing a possibly misguided sense of responsibility to get the better of her, Yuka did the most sensible thing she could, given the circumstances.

Hi, my name is… “Yuka Kanamai,” she gasped, popping up behind the wyrmfolk warrior and clutching her staff close to her chest with both hands. Could you please… “Hold him off?” …for a short while? was her next question as she gave him her most trusting look – she had no idea of how it would work on draconians, but with any luck he saw the merit in their temporary alliance as well.

Oh, and…

“Please try not to fall asleep?”

Focusing her powers on the unfathomably swirling melee in front of her – and on that hulking brute of an orc in particular – Yuka began to trace a symbol upon her palm.

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

Lask didn’t need telling. The girl was obviously mage-stock – that quiet, bookish look was a tell-tale sign, the staff a dead giveaway and that odd smell of ozone that was around most magic-users was especially pungent. But what did she mean about not falling asleep? A little upsetting, did she feel him that inadequate, or was it a reference to him taking on the orc and it being a breeze?

No, wait a second-

The thoughts clamoured in his head as he calmly moved around the girl and put her in the line of defense, and brought the sword up, turning the hilt in his hands to let the flat of the blade take the brunt of the first blow. The Orc had decided that not only was the cleaver a good weapon, but his fists – clad with the most ill-looking and malicious gauntlets Lask had ever seen – would probably suit as well. And they did! The blade rang as the first hit connected, and Lask grunted, digging his talons into the dirt and shifting slightly to the left as the cleaver was swung upwards to catch his arm. Said arm was whipped backwards and out of the way, and with a growl of spite and using his tail to support himself, Lask kicked the blade out of the dirt, showering the Orc with seeds, dust and the occasional pebble which it didn’t appreciate at all. The swings were too wild, too unfocused. And it was too close to use any kind of explosive here, which was bad-wait, hang on-

His neck-scales were tingling as the girl continued her work behind him. How long would it take for her to cast the spell? Could he hear her chanting or was that just some other poor creature in some other stupid fight muttering something to attack another?

The sword was too heavy and without any kind of kinetic force to do any damage, and the damn orc just kept coming. He couldn’t swing. He’d hit her! Evasive action!

Another lunge.

Switching hands at the moment he saw the muscles along the shoulders tense, Lask cast the sword away, blocking the gauntlet with his own muscled forearm. It hurt; something cracked under the force of the blow and a few mottled scales flew off. Keeping the momentum of movement as the Orc plunged forward to the ground and at the feet of the little mage-girl Yuka, Lask pivoted on the leg closest to the tumbling barbarian and planted the other firmly in front of the ankle of his opponent. His free hand slammed into the creature’s back as it toppled over, shoving him to the ground, just in time to see Yuka start to glow…

[Wings of Endymion]

… albeit only for a second, before the power coalesced in her palm and then dissipated into the golden-tinged skies. Yuka had been impressed by the calm and collected manner in which the draconian had dealt with an opponent both bigger than him and hell-bent on wreaking havoc in any way possible. Now, however, it was her turn to act.

“Magen… Nehan Shouja!”

The words were only whispered, but they seemed to carry through the air with little effort whatsoever. Pervasive and invasive, the young woman’s power ensured that they infiltrated the minds of everybody in that café, and once there, the effects of her magic began to take hold.

Amongst the shattering glass and splintering wood now drifted visions of soft white feathers, floating slowly from the skies above. Time seemed to slow and waver, bloodshot vision beginning to blur as eyelids drooped heavy with sleep. Swords paused mid-stroke, words of power slipped away from nerveless tongues, and even the most stalwart of minds blinked once at the sudden intrusion.

Some shrugged it off without a second thought and resumed hostilities. Others, unable to resist the comforting hallucinations of snugly pillows and warm blankets, drifted off into oblivion mid-fight. One – the innocent-looking young man who had been manning the counter – suddenly decided he’d had enough and transformed into his true form. Where once had cowered a plain freckle-sprinkled boy now towered a multi-hued daemon, bird-faced with malevolent eyes, screaming its anger towards the heavens and violently setting about those who dared to disturb its territory.

Yuka finally opened her eyes, feeling the last vestiges of the spell she had just cast flow from her mind. Somehow, the din of the brawl seemed so muted, the scene as it played out before her gaze so surreal and bizarre. Closest to her was the wyrmfolk warrior who had provided her protection, looming over the orc who had been so upset about his smashed strength potion. In what remained of the café beyond were what remained of its occupants; the four gnomes still frozen by the draconian’s roared command, three elven princesses battling a female dwarf and giving as good as they got in both sword and curse, a shy troll who had fallen asleep with a beatific smile upon his face while watching them… the list went on and on. She had to reach up and pinch herself to convince her mind that she wasn’t still dreaming.

Deep breaths, Yuka…

Then her hands wrapped themselves tightly around her staff once more. After all, it wouldn’t do to be defenceless if that darned brute of a greenskin suddenly decided to get up again, would it…?

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

It was that half-sleep that was so unbelievably pleasant, and annoying, and weird, where you were aware of your surroundings but your body was as still as stone - how many times over pages of equations and chemical math had he done such a thing? And why was it so comforting to happen now?

Lask smiled in a dazed, happy way, looking up at Yuka and thinking 'well done' and thinking he'd actually said it when his mouth - and vocal chords, as Wyrmfolk don't necessarily have to move their mouth to speak - were as still as stone. Nothing mattered.

Not even the little shower of twigs and leaves, followed by a little waterfall of dark curls spilled over his head. Nirvana, upside down and calmly hanging from a branch that was almost perfect for watching the battle, fixed Yuka with an approving eye.

"Nice spell-slinging, girlie. Although it would have been helpful, oh, thirty seconds earlier."

Bugger it. Why'd she have to be so mean? And where was Tiddles? Lask rolled his eyes comically in the vague hope that even if his mind was as blurry as, as, as a Friday that had become a Saturday morning at the local student pub, he could somehow convey that this was normal and nothing was meant by it.

He was saved by a little squeak from his employer - hah, as if she'd even paid him yet! - and the tearing of fabric as Tiddles decided that his own hiding place - several branches up - was no longer needed and he'd used her as his personal ladder.

"Scumbag! Flea-riddled, wheeling, dealing filthy little-!" The words faded only because he'd torn a piece of her skirt that aptly covered her head. For a moment she just hung there, flailing madly and getting more and more entangled in the cotton.

Tiddles on the other hand alighted gently onto Lask's curved back, wandered up and onto his head, stood there blinking for a moment before giving Yuka a silent miaw of apologies. The orc grunted as the cat used him as the next landing pad and with the curious aloofness all cats seem to possess, Tiddles wound himself around Yuka's legs.

Another rip. Nirvana sneered. "Tiddles, dear. Don't be a turd."

He ignored her. The branch gave a warning creak, and sighing, Nirvana bunched herself up to reach the branch she'd hooked her knees over, and swung down, landing far heavier than Tiddles had done on Lask's back. Now the warrior woke up, dropped to a knee and a hand and turned his head slightly to frown at the woman who now sat, legs crossed and leaves in her hair, a picture of imperfection.

"Say thank you, Nirvana."

"Bugger off. Not saying thanks for anything - she saved your ass, not mine."

She jerked forward as a tail made it's presence known at the small of her back. "Say thank you to the nice lady."

"..." The pout was unbelievably childish. "........................................th'nk you."