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Unstuck In Time! (IC)


Quinn

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Suddenly, Gabriel rose once more into the air. At first, it might appear he was fleeing...until he stopped, about 50 feet up. He glared down at the foul magic-user, pointing his right hand at the dark being.

"These are no mere parlor tricks, but instead power granted by the Archangel Gavriel! I carry the Wrath of the Lord Almighty! Today you shall be made to pay for your wicked ways!"

Taking a moment to line up his shot, Gabriel loosed a concentrated bolt of sonic energy that struck out at the evil sorcerer. He'd neglected his defenses a bit, but he didn't see the guards carrying bows; he reasoned he ought to be fairly safe.

"Mercy will be granted if your armies quit the field now!"

Meanwhile, in his mind, he recovered from the shock of Scarab's mind-voice and hesitantly spoke back.

'I am dealing with one even now.'

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Gabriel

The sorcerer's eyes opened wide in shock and pain as the concentrated sonic bolt hit him and knocked him clear out of his chair, the wooden seat practically disintegrating under the barrage as he was flattened to the wood of the platform. His bodyguards charged forward, waving their weapons high...then stopped and stared somewhat comically at the floating hero above them; a bewildered look on their bestial faces, which was shortly cut off when what seemed like a meteor crackling with energy blazed right past Gabriel and struck in their midst. One flew off, it's body broken and battered, crashing into the ground as a puddle, but the other seemed to barely keep it's feet, clutching at it's weapon as it looked to it's master for instructions. Push stood, hefting his hammer to his shoulder, and gave Gabe a thumbs-up before rounding on the second bodyguard.

"Y-you...how...how dare you...I am...I..."

The sorcerer tried to stagger to his feet, but kept stumbling. Clearly he hadn't been expecting such a savage blow so early in the fight!

Arcturus

The beastmen horde swallowed up his three allies, though the mighty ursine hero could barely make out their battle cries, and the flying beastmen from certain spots did indicate they were doing some damage. Still, the ranks and ranks of monsters barreling down on him at full speed was the more pressing issue, and they looked ready for blood...

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Fulcrum grimaced as the eldritch energy washed around her. Then she snorted and punched him back! Not one of those hay makers she liked to throw. No, this one arrived as a simple jab to the chest. Ironically, given the circumstances, that sort of attack was sneaky. She was no Bruce Lee, but her tremendous strength accelerated her fist better than any one-inch punch.

Meanwhile her peripheral vision and senses took stock of the battlefield. The beastmen guards would likely make a move soon, the sorcerer had that nasty staff (which she would all endeavor to smash, perhaps, perhaps) and the sound of a freight train suggested something big and red bore down on them. Back up? Good!

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Arcturus was at a loss.

It was difficult to tell what was really happening, and even his desperate act of throwing the huge beast into the masses was one part improvisation and two parts blind luck. Still, the three men he'd recently befriended hadn't hesitated to wade into the fray. There was no reason for him not to do the same, and the man behind the beast didn't see any reason to disagree or stop himself. After all, hesitation tended to get people unnecessarily injured; never mind harm to himself, but Arcturus didn't want anyone's blood on his hands.

Except, perhaps, for the hordes of monsters trying to do him harm.

Without giving it much more thought, the bear charged into the masses, fang and claw at the ready.

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Fulcrum

The sorcerer looked surprised, nay, shocked! Shocked that his mighty eldrich powers availed him so little against the mighty heroine. So shocked he barely noticed her incoming fist until it was too late. The punch landed clear on his chest, propelling him back nearly a foot as he stumbled and tried to regain his equilibrium. Yet, his eyes seemed unfocused due to the pain, and he staggered, leaning on his staff for support, wheezing for breath.

However, while Fulcrum was distracted by the effects of her light punch, the two beastman bodyguards finally crested the steps! Lunging forward at the heroine's unprotected back, they swung their halberds down with vicious force...

Arcturus

The Wolves fought valiantly, swinging their weapons with unbridled fury and ferocity, the hope of an entire city on their shoulders, and they were nearly overwhelmed.

Emphasis on the nearly.

Arcturus hit the beastmen line like a thunderbolt, 475 pounds of ursine power wreaking untold havoc. Every time he took a swipe or a lunge, another beastman flew or burst apart in a shower of green goo. The fury of his assault was such that it single-handedly stymied the left reserve's charge, stopping the lines of beastmen cold as they tried and tried to push by the mighty hero and his newfound comrades. And they failed.

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Meanwhile...

The main force of human warriors steadily pulled back to the keep, far less pressed than before thanks to the efforts of Atlas and Arcturus in breaking the left and centre reserves. From what the heroes could see, it seemed that only the right reserve was causing any major damage, while the beastmen on the main line were barely able to keep up with what was left of the City's forces. Shortly they would be in catapult range, but if the beastmen were still engaged with the human forces as they fell back to the keep, the siege engines could not fire for fear of hitting their own troops!

The battle was slowly leaning in the heroes' favor, but there were still dangers that could turn the day if they did not act fast...

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"Hmm...it seems I am being scryed upon. Or perhaps an illusion? How very odd. Tell me, if the air can hear, why do you magi, why do you of the Wise, permit these lowly fools to separate and lock you within your ivory towers? Most puissant magus such as yourselves, we of the Warlord would welcome you with open arms. Come, this battle is nearly over save for finishing off the remaining rabble, surely you can reveal yourselves in some manner and we may speak as civilized folk?"

The hundred voices of The Scarab echoed in the sorcerer's mind. [bg=#BF0000]_You are the rabble. Marauding thugs who have no right to call yourselves "civilized." I go where I please, and I will not stand idly by while innocent people suffer, not by anyone's command._[/bg]

The Scarab touched the tips of her fingers to cradle the sides of her head, and her body faded into view, hovering behind the sorcerer, within arms reach. She made a brief, cursory scan of his memories, searching for any traces of fear or insecurity or self-doubt, any voices (internal or external) which erroded his confidence or sense of self. Then she huddled those voices together into a choir and gave them a bullhorn.

[bg=#BF0000]_Weakling. Incompetent. Coward. Idiot. Worthless. Impotent._[/bg]

As the sorcerer's hordes attempted to flank and envelop the human armies, so did The Scarab's mind, strengthened by five-thousand years of accumulated training, flank and envelop the sorcerer's mind. She surrounded his mind like a cloth, and then pulled that cloth taught, hardening it into a vise. Like a walnut, she crushed his confidence in her "mind-vise."

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The Scarab

Amazingly, the sorcerer merely turned his head and raised an eyebrow at the psychic heroine, twirling his staff in one hand. He spoke in a cold, cruel voice, far different from the amiable tones he'd used previously.

"You seek to subvert my will? I have already placed myself at the foot of the Warlord, what he wills is mine to carry out! And he has wrought far greater upon those who have failed him. But to those who he favors, oh...he grants power. I demonstrate thusly!"

He whirled his staff above his head and launched a blast of reddish-black fire from the tip, which missed the Scarab by a narrow margin; clearly he was a bit more shaken by her sudden attack on his mind than he let on...

Fulcrum

The sorcerer reeled away, and the savage blows from the beastmen bodyguards descended as if in slow motion...

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The bodyguards' mighty halberds clanged harmlessly off Fulcrum's back. She didn't seem to notice, or more likely, care. She smirked a little at the attack working out so nicely and looked impressed that the wizard stood. Now three foes flanked her on all sides. Those odds she liked!

That's when an idea came to her. Atlas wiped out swathes of the enemy army by making a tremendous shock wave with his hands. Fulcrum already new a similar technique: exhaling a blast of air to knock over enemies and put out fires. Atlas was super strong and so was she! Grinning now, she pushed past the beastmen and into the air out of their weapons' reaches.

Nothing fancy.

She flexed her shoulders and slapped her hands together in a mighty clap. At the same time, her arms thrust forward and a rippling cone of compressed air roared down upon her enemies! Her targets were fourfold: the sorcerer, his two bodyguards and the glass orb between the foes! With any luck they'd all go with a one-two punch!

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Fulcrum

The heroine's hopes were not dashed upon the rocks of failure, for her mighty shockwave rippled out and tore into the platform like the sweeping hand of a deity. For the two bodyguards, they simply shook and fell apart as the wave of force struck them, while the sorcerer in vain held up his hands to stop the wave. For his efforts, he was cast backwards as his orb shattered, flying over the edge! As it seemed he was about to plummet to his untimely doom, he seemed to shimmer and vanish himself, and as Fulcrum turned to look upon the battlefield, it seemed every beastman who was on his third of the battlefield seemed to do the same; leaving a whole pile of confused but extremely pleased human warriors all down that section of the line.

Atlas

As the great red hero stood and looked on, he saw Fulcrum's great victory and the platform collapse in front of her, the beastmen he had been pounding on with such relish vanishing before his eyes. His allies gave a great cheer and raised their weapons high, before turning as one and charging towards the right flank where the battle still raged. The woman warrior swung her sword up in salute to her newfound ally, her laugh filling the air as her men roared battle cries at the foes.

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Gabriel and Push

With one bodyguard pasted and the other being approached by a hero holding a hammer bigger than he was, and judging by how battered the evil-doer was by simply one volley of powerful sonic energy, things were looking grim for the sorcerer and his minions. The heroes could hear the sounds of battle raging behind them, the right flank reserves pushing forward...time was running out!

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"How dare I? How dare I what? How dare I defend the innocent, the threatened? How dare I strike down your army of unholy monsters? No, I ask you: How dare I not?

And you? You are beaten."

With that proclamation, Gabriel sent another wave of sound racing towards the sorcerer, the air humming as he did so. The bolt seemed to strike true.

"Your dark master, if there is such a person, is next."

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Push and Gabriel

A cry of "Noooooooooooooo!" was ripped from the sorcerer's throat as Gabriel's barrage struck him a second time, sending him flying away. He hit the end of the platform and crumpled, vanishing in the same way as Fulcrum's target. Push, for his part, almost absently backhanded the last bodyguard with his hammer as he watched Gabriel deliver the final blow, and clapped. Behind the heroes, the right flank completely collapsed as beastmen simply fell apart or were beaten down by what human warriors remained.

Arcturus

With the fury of Arcturus's offensive and the aid of his allies, the Wolves three, soon all that remained of the left flank reserves were green smears on the grass. Arcturus's new friends let out another earsplitting howl, focusing their attention on the dark sorcerer's pavilion, where they could see the warcaster engaged in a magical duel. The sorcerer's beastman bodyguards stared at the four heroes, lowering their halberds and approaching cautiously...

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Arcturus tore across the battlefield like a man possessed; it wasn't exactly an inaccurate statement. The teenage shapeshifter cleaved a path through the enemy ranks, and when the dust finally settled, Arcturus scanned the terrain for his next target. Fatigue eroded reason; his eyes fell on the cautious, halberd-wielding beastmen and he headed in their direction.

He stood upright as he approached, eyes flaring with an angry red glow. It was clear the Rune was doing the talking, and Marcus, for once, wasn't fighting against the rising current of rage. He flashed a toothy, feral grin and beckoned them forward. "This is the part where you run."

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Arcturus

The first bodyguard stared at Arcturus with a look of what could only be fear on his monstrous features, dropping it's halberd and running hell-for-leather away. The Wolves laughed and jeered at it, hefting their weapons and charging at the remaining bodyguard, which only barely managed to maintain it's composure and stand fast under the assault. Lorr's mace went wide, and he cursed as the creature jabbed forward wiht it's halberd at the ursine hero; Gunnar and Jakob, on the other hand, cleanly struck home, their blows bouncing off the creature's leathery skin...

Meanwhile...

With the beastman lines fallen apart, Tarquin found himself in a most advantageous situation. With aplomb developed from years of continuous battle, the human forces wheeled and charged, forcing their tired bodies and worn weapons into one last hurrah; to cleanse these monsters from the fields of their city. What few monsters that hadn't disappeared when the sorcerers of the centre and right fell, likely officers, rapidly turned and began a shambling run at a gut-bursting pace...

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The Scarab seemed to move almost in slow motion as she floated just out of the spell's trajectory. She batted aside the bolt of magical energy almost absent-mindedly, with a gesture of casual disdain. Her crimson gauntlet never actually touched the bolt, but a golden disk of telekinetic force briefly appeared, knocking the projectile off-course.

[bg=#BF0000]_"Your "master" is a fool. And you are the greater fool for letting him place the yoke upon your back."_[/bg]

Having failed a direct assault against the sorcerer's mind, The Scarab sought a lateral approach. Her previous mental image depicted a golden fist crushing a stone sphere. Now she relaxed the fist's grip, and let the fist itself melt into liquid. That liquid gold flooded around the sphere, enveloping it instead of squeezing it. She pulled the sphere closer, sharpened her focus, to reveal that its surface, appearing smooth from afar, was in fact riddled with pits and cracks. She directed the golden fluid to surge into those cracks, and once beneath the surface, to stretch, breaking the stone apart from within.

[bg=#BF0000]_Fool. Stupid, pathetic, deluded Fool._[/bg]

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The Scarab

For a moment, it seemed as if the golden liquid was about to break the sphere; but within the space of a few seconds the sorcerer marshalled his will, and the cracks began to repair faster than the Scarab's influence could seep in. To Arcturus and the Wolves' eyes, it seemed as if the two powerful figures were simply staring at each other; then the sorcerer's nose began to bleed. Almost absently, he lifted his hand and touched at the blood, looking at it curiously, then smiled.

"Your power is...immense. How very marvelous, how very marvelous indeed."

His face was indeed amused, and intrigued. Taking up his staff, he looked about the battlefield, his mind still fighting back against the Scarab's influence.

"However, I am not a gambling man; and it seems as if we have snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. Still, we have done most of what we set out to do, and I still have a report to give."

The connection between the two minds was abruptly broken, and the sorcerer gave the Scarab a polite bow as he began to fade from sight, his last words barely audible to the Scarab as he simply vanished.

"I neglected to introduce myself previously. I am Alamar, sorcerer and apprentice to the Warlord. We shall meet again, I'm sure."

VICTORY!

With the last summoner gone, the last of the beastman army simply fell apart on the grass, and the human warriors let out a mighty cheer that fairly shook the stones of the great wall. Great cries were sent up to these strange new heroes who had arrived; the subject of their joy hearing the roars from across the field. The Wolves slammed Arcturus on the back, laughing like madmen, tallying up the beastmen they had felled and joking that this was nothing compared to battles past. Push gave Gabriel a grin and a thumbs-up, ignoring for the moment that they were clearly lost in time and space, simply reveling in the moment of victory.

The battle was over. The heroes had won.

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The blow aimed at him missed; before he could even react, the three Wolves streaked past Arcturus and the lone beastman was torn apart in relatively short order. Before Arc could even take in the battlefield situation, he heard the cheering--it was over. This time, it seemed somewhat permanent.

He took several deep breaths, covered in sweat, dirt, and probably blood; the Beast Rune's viciousness left an amalgamation of scents in the air around him that was making him a little nauseous. He couldn't exactly filter them out without shifting back to his human form, and though he wasn't injured, he wasn't entirely sure that was a good idea just yet--his clothes weren't exactly in a condition that would leave him without some embarrassment.

Fatigue hit him all at once and he sank to his knees, nose skyward as he took in several heaving breaths. Slowly but surely the rage was subsiding and the rune relinquished control, making Arcturus that much more aware of how much he'd pushed himself. It occurred to him that nothing at Claremont had ever really tested just how far he could push himself physically, and even now he wasn't sure if this was as far as he could go. He didn't have a whole lot of time for introspection, though, as the Wolves' celebration eventually made it over to him. Had he been in human form, those hefty thumps on the back might've actually hurt.

A smug grin crossed his face at the talk of a battlefield tally. In that particular mindset, counting didn't seem like it was all that important. "Next time, I'm gonna have to keep better track," he mused, grinning a bit wider. "Not bad for a first-timer, though."

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Fulcrum spoke mentally to the Scarab. Destroy the crystal balls. They are the source of the beastman army!

No sooner had she formulated the words, than the two flanks of the army vanished. She could see the Scarab hovering above one pavilion, and other heroes whom she had yet to meet at the other. The remnants of the army fell into full retreat, and Fulcrum nodded in satisfaction. Only a few sore muscles bore testament to the battle. She stretched a tender shoulder and considered her next course of action.

"Excellent," she murmured before turning to survey the battlefield. To say the sight was grisly understated the situation by a magnitude. Her unconscious conjured vague recollections of the demon invasion. This time at least, the city lay mostly intact. The loss of life, however, tolled very high indeed.

Where were they? Why had this evil befell such a city?

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Gabriel hovered thoughtfully for several moments, before absently firing a couple of blasts at the crystal orb, first weakening, then destroying it. He turned to look at Push.

"See you back at the city."

With that, Gabriel shot into the air, rising to a height of almost a thousand feet, casting his gaze across the land for almost a minute. Then he gracefully turned around and dove towards the ground, picking up speed until he set off a sonic boom as he started moving faster than sound. Eventually, he was hovering a few dozen yards above the human battle lines. He stayed there, acting as a surprisingly silent sentry as more troops filtered back into the city. He glanced out over the scattered heroes from Freedom City. He concentrated, and suddenly they could all hear his voice in their ear.

"I can't hear you back, but I just wanted to say good job everyone. We should probably meet up to compare notes, though."

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Glad that's over... mused Atlas mentally as the remaining beastmen fled the field of battle in one way or another. And while there was quite a bit of celebrating going on, there was something else playing on Atlas's mind: what the heck they were going to do now. Making a note to find the shocktroops later, Atlas grew himself a pair of bat-like wings and took to the air, trying to pick out the rest of the heroes that had been assembled from his world, which wasn't really all that hard due to the bright colors many of them were wearing and the fact that many of the soldiers were celebrating around them. "I think its time we got together to compare notes." thought Atlas over his mental link to Scarab, and thereby the rest of the heroes.

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The Scarab glared at the empty space formerly occupied by her foe. [bg=#BF0000]Yes, Sorcerer, we will meet again. Run while you can. You cannot hide. Not from me. Never from me. Enjoy your respite. Your reckoning will come, and sooner than you think.[/bg]

The crimson-clad avenger waved a hand at the sorcerer's discarded crystal ball, and the massive sphere floated into the air beside her. Another wave sliced a length of opaque canvas from his abandoned tent, which she used to wrap the crystal. Then she took off flying.

She soared across the battlefield, scanning for casualties. Whenever she found a wounded soldier, she descended, did her best to help bind his wounds, and used her formidable psionic powers to levitate him as well. Towing an entire group behind her, more gently and efficiently than any gurney carried by physical hands, she flew straight to Captain Tarquin. [bg=#BF0000]"Captain. Have one of your men direct me to whatever healers you have on staff, and then send a message for me. Tell your superiors that The Scarab and her companions demand an audience with them. Tell them that they will receive us in court, tonight, and that anyone of import will be in attendance, along with yourself, the six of us, whoever made the decision to field your forces in this manner and to withold your wizards, and whoever advised those decisions. I will aid the healers as best I can, and speak with them when I am ready."[/bg]

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Tarquin stood stiffly, turning from the large lines of wounded, and fixed the Scarab in place with a Look. For all her flowing cape and glowing armor, he stared at her as if she was any other individual, a grim expression on his face. His eyes pierced right through her mask, and he seemed to struggle for words; then he set his shoulders and addressed her, although in a very tired tone.

"Your requests are fair, though I find your...address somewhat questionable. And no doubt you will say the exact same thing several others will, why our forces were far from the wall, why thousands of lives were risked in this manner, why, why, why..."

He grunted, crossing his arms, and spoke far more resolutely.

"But I will brook no disrespect to the Highlord; no doubt he will call for you, but not you, nor myself, nor any of the Lord-Barons, the Grandmaster Magus, the head of the Ordo Malleus, or the Warlord himself may demand an audience with him. Your power, and that of your brethren, is vast, but this is a Free City. We take orders from no-one, save the man who lead us to freedom."

Battlemaster and Lord-Baron Tarquin, leader of the Three Sisters' Army, stood firmly on that last point, his voice nearly rising to a shout. He stared at the powerful psychic, ensuring she got that, and then uncrossed his arms and sighed.

"Still...thank you. For aiding my soldiers. As I said, your questions shall be answered soon, but there is much that needs doing before any of this. And if you see him before I do, give my regards to your compatriot Gabriel; I do not think I'd have lived through this day without his aid."

The old general turned and motioned in the direction of what seemed like healer-priests, who were doing their best to tend to the numerous wounded before the gates. As he turned and walked away, to attend to what troops still lived, he murmured under his breath;

"And I doubt any of us will live out the week without it."

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Yes, we need to compare notes.

With that Fulcrum joined in the rescue efforts. Even with Scarab's considerable skill, many more remained on the battlefield. Fulcrum's first aid stills didn't really pass muster but other options were available. A group of walking wounded were dropped off at the triage station, and Fulcrum addressed the healers, "I will carry you out the battlefield. We can travel much faster that way."

True to her word, Fulcrum ferried healer priests and stretchers throughout the battlefield. The attendants scattered among the wounded, and Fulcrum gathered them into groups for herself or others to transport. At one point a scavenged portion of a wizard's platform became pressed into service. Only time would tell how successful the healers' and heroes' labors would be.

Fulcrum landed inside the city walls once the wounded were tended. Sighing loudly, she headed over to the Scarab and offered her a handshake. "Pleasure to finally meet you," she said by way of introduction.

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Gabriel waited for a bit longer, noting that Tarquin and the Scarab exchanged words. He couldn't listen in, and he figured either party would tell him if they so chose. Instead, he waited until the elder warrior seemed to finish before lowering himself to hover next to Scarab. He gave her a charming smile and extended his hand to shake hers.

"Scarab, I've heard a lot of great things about you. I go by Gabriel. Real pleasure to meet you. Seems like you helped ups really square away victory. Hopefully we can keep the momentum up."

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