Big Damn Heroes (Bones, Marcus)

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

61st Day of Summer, 512 AV Corwin Sael was Sunberthan, born and raised. Son of a gambler, friend to thieves and murderers, and general all around punk. His crimes in life included theft, assault, destruction of property, manslaughter, and other things of a darker nature. Yet by the standards of some he was nothing more than a low-grade thug, without the kind of deeper darkness that dwelt in the hearts of the truly wicked. Formerly a member of a small Sunberthan street gang, he had been run out of the city a year before when he and his criminal friends had crossed one of the larger and more dangerous groups. He eventually wound up in Zeltiva simply because it was one of the closest geographic destinations, and the easiest to find a ship to. He had found adapting to Zeltiva to be difficult. Corwin wasn't the sort to let others dictate his life for him, nor was he used to living somewhere that people wouldn't just look the other way when a fight broke out. He had had more than one run in with the town guard some months back, for comparatively minor incidents, but they had been serious enough that one more would get him banned from the city (and that wasn't even counting the more serious things he had managed to avoid being caught in, such as the attempted assault of an old 'friend' about a week ago. Had that incident been reported, he would be a wanted man right now, instead of just a thug with a known reputation and only one strike left). Little did he know that the reason his 'friend,' one Minerva Agatha Zipporah, hadn't reported the assault was because she was intending to hunt him down for her own revenge. Running into Minerva and her magical contraptions had sparked an old hatred to flare up in Corwin. Like most Sunberthans, Corwin despised magic. Finding out his frequent childhood victim was now some kind of crazy Magus, and feeling the cold hard grip of her magical devices crushing his manhood, had renewed his hatred for all things mystical. So after a week of stewing (and recovering from his injuries), he had decided something needed to be done about it. So he had gathered up his friends, including the same three who had also faced the crazy Magus and been humiliated by her mysterious speech-impaired savior, and started gathering a small group of like-minded souls. Knowing that the slightest hint of trouble would bring the law down on them, they had met in dark, secluded places, and plotted out a plan for revenge. They were few in number, since Zeltiva was an enlightened city where crime was rare. But even in an enlightened city, there were dark souls that dwelt in the less reputable parts of town. People who had lost family in the Djed storm, or to the escaped overgiven mages that had run wild in the aftermath. People who wanted payback, and had been unable to vent the anger that boiled up inside them. Corwin had gathered this small group and told them they could strike back against the evil wizards who were responsible for all their troubles in life. That they could get revenge against the ones who were clearly to blame for their every sorrow. Unknown, disorganized, but filled with anger and hate, they were planning an attack in the depths of the night. They planned to remain anonymous, covering their faces with scarves and crude masks. They thought they could do as they pleased and get away with it, and as of the setting if the sun on the 61st day of summer, none in the city knew what they planned. * * * Minerva had spent much of the last week recovering. She had received a magical healing from a friend, but even then she had been sore and aching the remainder of the week. She had also been fuming about the encounter, but hers was a different sort of anger. It was the anger that came with facing a spectre of her past, someone she thought long gone and out of her life. Someone who had tried to hurt her in the most despicable ways imaginable. And perhaps worst of all (in her mind) someone who knew her real name and the last that was tied to it. She had sought out the man Bones, to take him up on his offer of aid in this matter. Trailed by her hammer, Naily, and her axe, Choppy, she had spent much of the night asking around in taverns after a one eared man with a Sunberthan accent (though she couldn't hear the difference, but since everyone else seemed to, it was a good lead to use). After hours of searching, she found someone who recognized the description. It was a young man in the back of a seedier tavern on the poor side of town. Unfortunately, he didn't have much information. "He was sitting in the back there," the man said, gesturing vaguely to the back room. "With a group of chaps. Talking real quiet about something or other." "Talkin' 'bout what?" Tock asked, a frown on her lips. "I dunno," the man replied, taking a swig of his drink. "Weren't none of my business..." Tock scowled and looked at Bones. Her gut was telling her something wasn't right.

[Ssafirsotibones]

Bones had told Tock to call on him if she needed help. So he was not surprised when she did so. What did surprise him a bit, was how soon it was, and what it was for. She wanted help in killing someone. Taking revenge. If it had been anyone, but the man he had saved her from so recently, he would have had to think about it. But being as that was exactly who it was, it was an easy decision to make. He would help her. Besides, if he was not taken care of, he would surely go after her again. And since it seemed she knew were he was, and would come along, it saved him the trouble of doing it alone. So he ended up tagging along, going to search for info, assisting her by using his intimidating glare, full of killer intent, when it seemed like someone was holding... Especially this last one, saying he hadn't listened, as it was none of his business... At Tocks looks, he took a step closer to the person, next to her, sliding his gladius half an inch out of its sheath, to the slick of leather on steel... Maybe that would help him to recall? He hated this part of things, finding out info... He would much rather be knocking in some heads... "How about you help usss out... My blade isss getting a bit bored... Unlessss you want to keep it entertained..."

[Marcus Dymez]

Despite the devious matters at play this night, all was ordinary this for most of Zeltiva, particularly at the University. This was an ordinary night for the students, and as such the grounds were anything but busy. Even the library contained only a sole soul residing amidst the stacks. Faint light glimmered upon a crimson cloak, concealing a less-than-scholarly secret as well a less-than-subtle wizard. Marcus could attest to the mundane nature of the night, as he sat casually in the library of the grand University with open-faced tomes splayed out before him. They were no longer being read, or even in danger of such things. Marcus was now the last student remaining in the library, the passing groundskeeper giving him a scowl when he had told him he wasn't quite done. The night had dwindled almost as quickly as his interest, and the young scholar now found himself curiously drawing up strange symbols of arcane origin with his finger. Or rather, Marcus was making up a bunch of random runes. It had been this wizard's intention to come and spend a night studying and experimenting with the limited glyphing knowledge he maintained, but he soon found that this art was exactly as he wished it was. Books on the subject were little more than biographies of famous contributors to the field, or jaded tomes preaching about the importance of one type of glyph above another. It was rubbish, all of it. Marcus had smirked to himself when he came upon this revelation, glad to find himself in a field based on experimentation and hands-on experience. But once he had set to practicing, he found himself stumped. It had taken a full fifteen-minutes for Marcus to start, but once he had, it was almost effortless. Marcus idly traced outlines of glyphs along the wooden table before him, endless symbols streaming from his mind. He constructed an imaginary sigil he called a Binder; a small and compact focus surrounded by a thin weave of small runes. Linked to this was a non-existent trigger that would snap the tightly bound barrier, releasing whatever magic had been stored within. Having his pen and parchment still in his dorm, Marcus had no means of constructing such a sigil however, despite the fervor he applied to his machinations. When he had thought over his design and found himself content, he mentally wiped the blueprint from his mind, as an artisan would clear his desk of clutter. His left shoulder rolled subconsciously, as the metal hilt of his sword adjusted itself to no great improvement. Marcus had gotten into the habit of smuggling it under the Dymez crimson, which he always wore whenever curiosity was in store. Still, he was not used to the extra weight of the blade crossing across his back. It was not a particularly large sword, and fit snugly within the bounds of the young scholar's cloak, but Marcus still did not expect it to be drawn this night, and perhaps it wouldn't come to that. But as the young scholar pondered on various glyphs and their possible applications, things were progressing quite grimly elsewhere.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock scowled at the man, who cringed back from Bones's partially exposed blade. Zeltivans weren't much used to having weapons bared on them (whereas back home in Sunberth, the act likely would have led to a game of 'Who has the bigger blade,' which usually ended with the winner taking the loser's sword away). Mouth gaping, the man started to step away, until Tock grabbed him with all three hands. That gave him another moment's pause, as he stopped to count... one on his left lapel, one on the right, and a third, wooden hand grabbing right in the middle of his shirt collar. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat, starting to shake. "My friend done asked ya a question," Tock said, nodding to Bones. She barely noticed when Handy started wagging a wooden finger in the man's face. "Ya done gonna 'elp us out, o' we gonna need some entertainment?" The man looked from the wooden hand, to the sword, to the big man's dangerous dark eyes, and then finally to the slightly crazed redhead's. He stammered a bit and finally said, "I, I, I... I might have heard something. Recognized a guy with them, name of Chet. Does business up on East Street. Not the kind of business I cater to, understand?" He looked a bit desperate, clearly not wanting to be involved in something that wasn't part of his concern. "They said something about, 'Stopping there to get the blueprints.' Stopping at Chet's, I figured. That's all I know, I swear!" Tock let the man go, but before he could walk away, held her hand up, palm out, to stop him. Handy mimicked the motion as well. "Where's 'is Chet live?" Tock asked. * * * Meanwhile, a group of a dozen and a half men were gathering up on the hill by the University. Their faces were covered, and further cloaked in the shadows of the night. They were moving in silence, or as close to it as they could manage. Under cover of night, a wagon was backed up near the wall of the University Library. The men started unloading logs and placing them along the wall. They didn't expect anyone to hear them, since the library was supposed to be empty at this time of night. But with how quiet it was, their hushed voices and the sound of wood thumping against the ground would be heard inside among the silent stacks of books. * * * A short time later, Tock and Bones reached the address they'd been given of Chet's house. It was a run down shack, nestled among the homes of the less reputable district, populated largely by thieves and whores. Considering she was pretty sure this 'Chet' was a no-good thug, Tock decided there was no reason to care about breaking into his house. So unlike the last time when she'd decided a more finesseful route was needed, this time she just nodded Bones towards the door and said, "Wanna smash 'er in? O' should I 'as my baby does it?" She patted a hand lovingly on the handle of Choppy, her Animated axe on metal legs. OOCOkay, I didn't figure it would be realistic for us to get ALL the info about the bad guys' plan right off from a single source, so I added a small extra step. We can break into the house on Bones's post, and Marcus is set up to see the first sign of the criminals' operation. I'm thinking that'll put us in a good position to all join up for the big brawl at the start of next round. Feel free to throw in some twists and surprises ^.^

[Ssafirsotibones]

It seemed in this case, a small bit of intimidation, was enough to get what they needed... and when someone was properly motivated, they were more liable to help out... And when the person gave a bit of info, a guy he knew, and were he lived... How helpful... Bones slid his gladius back into its sheath, and gave his odd grin, which always seem inhuman and hungry... Not like a normal persons smile... Now it was time for a bit of fun, maybe he would get to toss a few punches even... *** When they did arrived were they were headed, it turned out to be a run down dump. He was surprised it was still standing. Though it seemed a bit common of a place, over in the cheap side of town. When she asked Bones if he wanted to smash the door in, he simply grinned at her, and took a step closer. Lifting up one foot, he kicked the middle of the door, near to were the handle was. And considering he was using his full dhani force, it was likely to be enough to finish the door off. Most likely, it would snap open the bit, which kept the handle in, breaking it off, and making the door swing open. Or, depending on how good the hinges were compared to the door, the hinges might snap, and the entire door might get thrown into the building. If he was unlucky, the door was weaker than the hinges, and his foot might go right through the door, knocking a hole through it... If that happened, he would yank his foot back out, and kick it a few more times, till it fell apart.

[Marcus Dymez]

Imaginary scribbling was not supposed to be this loud. Marcus froze as the clanking sound of logs echoed faintly into the tall stacks of the library. For a brief moment, he looked down at his idle fingers, for some reason believing the sound originated with him; as if he had found a new skill of his. Once reality finally sank in and Marcus realized he had not found a way to etch into wood with his mind, there was a familiar stillness in the dimly-lit Library. Again the sound arose, a dull muttering accompanying the noise, and Marcus swiftly found himself by the side of a window-pane. In a practiced scholar's motion he licked his forefinger and leaned over to snuff out the sheltered candle he had been using for light. Now everything was as it should be, besides the strange disturbance taking place this night. If the brigands noticed something wrong, they did not show it. In fact, their almost mundane routine of hollow wooden ringing against the walls of the Library almost made Marcus believe they were some sort of groundskeepers; come to spruce the place up with a lavish helping of firewood. Perhaps a noble's son, brought up sheltered and pruned would have thought such things, but Marcus had grown up amidst sailors and inns, and the happenings of the real world were never far from either. The young scholar stood in the dark, peering cautiously through the glass pane that gave a calming view of the University grounds. But there were no figures to be found in this darkness, and as Marcus held his ear to the wall he knew there would be no rest for his mind if he let sleeping dogs lie. To that end, a shaking hand worked a metal buckle in the cool darkness of the Library. Marcus had found a small side entrance with which to enter the courtyard, but before he walked out into the black night, there were a couple things to prepare for. While his mind meticulously worked through a list of tasks and precautions, his body shook with nerves. Rarely did he find himself visibly shaken, but whenever Marcus found himself with the chance, he enjoyed letting the nerves work their way through his body before an encounter. It had a rejuvenating effect, or so he believed. Regardless, once his hands had reset the rough leather scabbard around his waist, Marcus worked to calm himself. Deep breaths, and meditative thoughts. He grew increasingly conscious of the djed streaming through his body, focusing on individual rivers of the ethereal force simply to prove to himself he could. He never found the nerves any less, but there would always be fights in this world, and it would not do to simply be unprepared. Softly pushing the rugged door of the scribe's entrance, Marcus ushered himself into the darkness, and slowly stalked his way towards the sound. He reached a corner made by the Library walls, but hesitated in risking an edge-ward glance. After a moment's consideration, he put his faith in the all-compassing darkness of the night, and peered around the edge of the wall. The palm of Marcus' hand was growing bruised against the tight leather hilt of his sword, as he quickly pulled his head back, careful not to let his blade make as much as a whisper. These were not groundskeepers.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

The door broke open cleanly, and Tock followed Bones inside. The inside of the house was a predictable mess, with dirty clothes on the floor, soiled dishes, and a scattering of old jugs of ale. There was no one inside. Tock scowled, looking around the room. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything there that would help them. She rummaged around, checking under the bed, and searching every corner. She couldn't find anything but filth and rubbish. She stopped and stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips, frowning. "Done gotta been somethin' 'ere," she muttered. She thought about it carefully, trying to wrap her head around the puzzle. Corwin was up to something. She was sure of it. She knew him too well, and the story about him having hushed meetings in dark taverns told her he had something more going on than random thuggery. The man had said something about blueprints... but there weren't any here. Corwin must have taken them already. She moved over to the table. There was a small stack of paper there, but it was all blank, so she'd ignored it the first time. She held up the top sheet, lighting a candle on the table to take a closer look. There were faded lines on it, but she couldn't make them out. Yet it looked as though someone had leaned on this sheet while drawing something on the sheet above. She thought on it for a moment, then fished a piece of coal out of the man's fireplace. She held it over the paper and used one of her files to grind off some dust from the coal. Then she gently shook the paper, and the dust started to settle into the grooves in the paper. It was crude and incomplete, but she got a basic view of what had been drawn. It looked like a building, with arrows marking a path from one direction, and a large X marking a certain spot. Tock frowned, turning the page this way and that. There were lots of buildings in Zeltiva. But this one looked... familiar. The sketch was poorly done, just showing a generic outline. Walls here, a door there, stairs there... She recognized the layout. "C'mon," she told Bones. "I know where 'ey is... An' since last I done knew, Corwin couldn't read, what means 'ey ain't got no damn good reason ta be 'ere..." * * * Around the time Marcus was making his way outside, the other two unlikely heroes were approaching. Tock strained her poor eyes to peer through the darkness. All she could make out were shadows. But she was almost certain the drawing had been of this side of the library. Unable to tell where anyone might be, and NOT at all the subtle type, Tock decided to just cup her hands to her mouth and about out, "Oy! Corwin! Ya out 'ere?" Startled sounds came from nearby, and a shocked voice said, "What the hell? Who's that?" A moment later, sparks flared in the night as torches were lit, revealing a large group of masked and hooded men. One of them, his flesh still bruised from the encounter a week before, recognized Bones and shouted, "Aw, 'ell! It's 'IM! Quick, kill 'em!" Some of the group hesitated, not having expected to be committing murder tonight. A few others, most particularly those recognizable by clothing and accents as Sunberthan, showed no hesitation. There would be no witnesses, after all. Weapons were drawn, battle cries shouted, and the men rushed at the big dark stranger and the little redhead he was guarding. Tock stumbled back in fear, never having expected Corwin to have gathered this large a group. She looked among the masked men, trying to figure out if he was even among them. OOCWith the exception of Corwin (being that I have plans for him), everyone should feel free to dictate the NPC's actions as you wish. Some of them are hardened criminals, others are just ordinary commoners who got talked into doing something stupid because they're angry and hurting over losses in Spring and wanted someone to blame.

[Ssafirsotibones]

Luckily for Bones, his door breaching skills were up to snuff, and the door popped open, as easily as if it had been unlocked. He doubted shutting it would be so easy now, but they were simply trying to get in. Bones watched as Tock searched the room, trying to find something, which he assumed she would know when she saw it... Eventually she made her way through the filth, and settled on the papers on the table. Then she did something odd, something Bones would not have thought of, but would have to recall for next time. Though it seemed a bit unlikely such a thing would happen often, since he was more of the blunt approach, unlike this human. She used some coal from the fire, and grind-ed off some dust, and used that, to make the picture appear on the paper... How odd... He did not really have much interaction with such things, or with writing, but it was still an interesting trick. After turning it about for a bit, she seemed to suddenly figure something out... Bones reached up once more, to feel the bone hilt of his gladius, and to make sure it was loose in its sheath... He had a feeling he would be using it soon, and did not want to risk it sticking... Bones simply followed along, not completely understanding her words... It seemed though she now knew were to go... *** They had been waiting, when suddenly Tock yelled out loud, alerting anyone nearby to there presence. Had she never gone hunting before? Did she not know the benefit of initial silence, when facing a foe? Apparently not... Bones simply stared at the men, as there lights were lit, giving them the best glare he could manage... He had kept aside his pack and his cloak before leaving his room, wanting to keep loose and light. If he had to change form, it would be as simple as kicking off his sandals, losing his shirt and pants, and undoing the leather bit that held on his sheath... But he would prefer to not have to... Turning before all of these people... He certainly did not like the idea. But kept it in reserve, in case it was completely necessary. He took out his gladius, to the slick of metal on leather, a look of joy coming onto his face as he darted out his tongue... He could nearly taste it on the air... The anticipation of the fight. The fear, the pain, the blood, the meat... It made his snake instincts go wild, and already his heart was pumping faster, his eyes open wide, ready to fight. Without turning to look, Bones spoke to Tock. "Once it getsss going, I will do my bessst to keep you sssafe. Jussst ssstay clossse, and do not get in front of me... Ssstay behind me, and out of my sssight..." This of course, was for her safety, from Bones, as much as it was to protect her from the oncoming men. When he let his wild side lose, it was not easy to tell friend from foe... He let out a deep yell, and held his place, waiting for them to come to him, holding his position in front of Tock. As the first one reached them, holding a longsword, Bones slashed at the weapon full force, using an inhuman amount of force. The sword went flying right out of his hands, incapable of holding on. Bones took a step forward, and punched the guy right in the nose, breaking it, and dropping the man with a single punch, hurting his own knuckles a bit. He took the step back to were he had started, and glared at the rest... "Who isss next?" He said, as he waved his blade about a bit, slashing at whomever would get close, at least one of his slashes meeting with steel, another resulting in a cry of pain, and a spurt of blood being tossed.

[Marcus Dymez]

"You have got to be kidding me..." Marcus had been as surprised as the would-be criminals when a loud and conspicuous voice rose through the darkness. The young scholar had expected a heroic and striking figure to accompany the booming sound, but as a moment passed, followed by another, the almost obnoxious voice and striking accent fit snugly into his mind. Tock. Marcus swiftly rounded the corner, steadily walking with a crouch towards the group. His face held none of his usual good-cheer or playful expression. It was time to work, and it seemed like work would be quite intimidating on this night. One hand held the pommel of his sword, steadying it as he made his way closer to the crowd, who were already exchanging un-subdued words and even more blatant shouts. A steady concentration rang through the scholar's mind, as he split his attention into parts; a mental exercise called the Split Stone, which he had picked up from an old tome relegated to a literary book-end. The irony had not been lost on Marcus, but the technique had proved immensely helpful once he had grown comfortable with it. Marcus took in the flowing streams of his djed in one partition, while the other focused intently on the material world before him. Steadily he pressed out a small ejection of res, forming an ill-shaped blob of ethereal gas beyond his palm. The sound of metal upon metal hastened his stride, as the fiery torches wavered tenderly in the soft breeze. Closer and closer he became, until he could make out the entire brigade. There was at least a dozen brigands warily pressing onto the intruders, but Marcus did not doubt others were more hesitant, waiting in the wood-work. The target of their slow advance, the wizardly fellow found two other figures, one with a blade drawn and looking quite menacing, the other doing absolutely nothing at all. Tock didn't strike Marcus as the stone-cold killing type. Marcus had never done this trick on such a magnitude, but he did not lack any confidence in his abilities. In fact, he had always wanted to play this role, and this fervent determination only aided to his chances. A sharp inhale came from the young scholar as he stood his ground, his mind now focusing with both parts. Sometimes he found himself disoriented by this strange splitting of his attention, but at times like this, focusing on aspects of one thing he found it only amplifying his concentration. With a sharp and piercing will, Marcus propelled the small misshapen orb towards the battling crowd, a small grin making its way across his face covering gritted teeth. A man should take pride in his show, after all. With an eerie whoosh of fiery wind, the flames of the torches left their mantles, leaving the crowd illuminated faintly by a small sun hanging above them. But that was only the setting to the exposition. Using the bandit's confusion to his advantage, Marcus felt his legs stiffen, ground into the dirt below him as his mind equally hardened and committed to the next act of the play.. The fire above the field slowly widened out into a thin stretch of flaming ring, as it descended around the crowd. Steadily he walked towards the group, doing his best to seem intimidating. He drew his longsword with a slow flourish. His crimson robe wrapped around him, parting slightly at the front as the blade shimmered down towards the ground. While one side of his mind held the ring above the grass, steadily maintaining it on the fringe of the group, Marcus came into view of the rustling and brutal crowd, smirking like a devil. Marcus thought he struck quite the figure. The professional-seeming smirk gave way to a dramatic voice as Marcus gave his best impression of the usual grand magus found in tales and plays. It was booming, carrying confidence across the grassy field, almost daring others to defy him. Dedicated to his role, Marcus spoke, "Those who would deface this place shall pay their dues. Now, who cares to fight the forces of nature on this night? Who Dares to damage our esteemed University. Speak now, and perhaps the Gods will grant you the luck of a swift punishment." Inwardly shaking from the strain of the Splitting Stone, and the anxiety of their response, Marcus was nonetheless proud of his display, and hoped that would be the end of things. This was not a storybook however. The strange figure who stood with Tock was hidden from Marcus' view, with the crowd of thugs between the two "heroes," but he had no time to consider his skills or actions. While a couple of the thugs had shuddered at the display, the wavering metal falling to their sides for a moment, the act seemed only to feed their fiery anger even further. But still he had no time to think about this development, or who these men really were. The fact was the initial confusion had passed, and now the group of thugs was quickly returning to the work at hand. To make matters worse, now a few were coming towards Marcus himself, and there was no time to barter for peace. No time to do anything but improvise. He had to stay alive, after all. With a brutal press of concentration and desperate determination, Marcus brought his sword up before him, both his hands beginning to sweat against the leather wrap of the grip. In echo to this, the ring of fire broke apart, surging around as the res was stretched thin. He had not meant for this, and would remember to produce more res as a contingency in the future, but there was no time to think about that. The caught fire of the torches found itself serving as a skin for a quartet of flaming "swords." Blades with rough edges and rougher hilts wavered at eye-level; two flanking the embattled pair, and another two guarding their master. Long gone was Splitting Stone. His entire mind struggled to keep both his ethereal blades and his material one upright, as he glared into the unsavory crowd of vandals. "Say your peace or make it. The choice is yours." The voice was weighted with rugged effort however, and the effect only helped to press the intimidating bravado.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock just nodded to Bones's instructions, and kept her distance behind him. She wasn't a warrior, she was a builder. Street brawls and bar fights were quite different from battles to the death. This just wasn't something she was equipped to handle. Her heart raced as she saw chaos erupt around her. She drew a dagger in one hand, and Grippy in the other. Her babies weren't built for combat; they had a few self-defense commands worked into them, but they weren't designed to be killers. She wasn't sure they could handle this kind of fight. One of the men ran around Bones while the big warrior was busy with several others, seeing the small redhead as an easier target. She spotted him, pointed, and shouted, "Naily! Smash toes!" Before the man realized what was happening, he little hammer rolled up and started pounding on the man's foot. Tock knew the pain of a broken foot, and was sure from the man's horrid screams that Naily had cracked some bones. "Back... Stay!" she shouted, directing the Automaton to retreat to a safe distance while she closed in on the man, who had fallen to his knees in pain. She kicked him in the chest to knock him down, then kicked him in the face a few times to make sure he wouldn't get back up for awhile. Then the fire started to move on its own, and screams of terror pierced the night. By now the commotion was drawing attention from the nearby dormitories, as students woken by the shouts opened their windows to watch the spectacle before them. The addition of a fire wizard to the fight changed the minds of a few of the thugs, who had only signed up for what they thought was a simple act of vandalism. "Nobody said nothing about fighting mad fire wizards!!!" one man screamed in terror. "I'm not getting killed for this!" another shouted. "I'm no murderer!" "Dear Gods the big one has the strength of an ox! Screw this!" Half a dozen men fled into the night, not committed enough to their purpose to be willing to kill, or die for it. Slinking through the shadows to light a few fires was one thing. Fighting was something else entirely. Of course, a good ten men remained (after those that had fled and those that had already fallen to the ground). These were either too stupid, too brave, or too angry at the world to back down from the fight. They were also the more combat worthy, and still outnumbered the heroes three to one. Some foolish, curious students were stepping closer from the dorms, not knowing what was going on. Tock turned to them and shouted, "Git on outta 'ere, ya dang fools! Go on an' fetch the guards! Tell 'em someone's attacking the library!" When the students hesitated, Tock threw her arms up an' shouted, "Whatcha waitin' fer!? Y'all deaf, o' ya jus' done wants ta git killed!? GO!!!" Several students hurried off to get help, and Tock turned back to Bones, shouting, "'Ere's another one on yer left!" This wasn't how she had expected this night to go. As she aimed Grippy and used him to disarm one of her foes, she wondered how this had happened. She had started this night off planning premeditated, vengeful murder. Now she was acting like some big damn hero...