an alert | open

[hassaran]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Yseult
RECIPIENT: All members of Riftwatch
NOTES: Branching off of this scene. Note that despite the IC call for assistance we OOCly don't actually need to add any more people to that thread, the three of them will deal with the demon themselves before anybody else can get there. We just needed an excuse to make an all hands post asap.

Riftwatch, there is a demon in the Gallows masquerading as Benedict Artemaeus. He has been cornered in the fifth floor workroom. Assistance would be appreciated.

[ Yseult almost always sounds brisk on the crystals; today her speech is quicker and more clipped than ever. ]

Until we know more and can confirm there are no other imposters among the company, be on your guard. Report any unusual activity immediately.

Comments

[pathlit]

One day, Jayce might gain enough experience to utilize all readily available resources to mitigate morbidity in combat. Alas, today is not that day; he does not consider deploying his anchor-shield quickly enough to protect against the showering of demon guts.

Grimacing, he glances over his shoulder and grumbles, "I hope so." He looks at Abby again, eyes narrowing at the sight of blood on the backside of her head. "Got a little something back here," he adds, tapping the back of his head to illustrate.

She's standing and sounds cognizant so far that he isn't immediately worried about it, so his attention turns to a raised call of-- "Viktor?"

[grindset]

"Here,"

is Viktor, hand up at shoulder level. Left to manage himself, he'd kicked the Thaumoscope a little farther away and begun to follow it from the immediate skirmish when the demon fell. Had he remained where he was, he'd now be under one of those toppled bookcases, but here he stands, merely uncomfortably close to the wreck of them, whole and upright and wearing some of those mucilaginous remains.

That's two, now, reduced to some kind of... ethereal soup. A catastrophic loss of physical integrity if ever there was one. Rowntree didn't allude to any explosion during their brief exchange—perhaps the other one met its end less violently.

Looking over the slime-splattered destruction, collapsed shelves and ruined books, half in a daze, he says, "We should collect samples."