The Deadland

This was new. This wasn’t a part of any of the previously-established patterns that this session had already set out. He was surrounded by hives and communal hive stems. And there were still underlings around, but they were new types. And they didn’t have the usual jocular outfits. But whatever. They were trying to kill him so they were going to die.



He had no idea what new kind of mission he’d been sucked into, but he knew he’d rather be back on the horn pile with Feferi than here. And it was going to storm soon. Of course, he didn’t know that through any other means than the dark clouds overhead. Or so the people on this primitive communication device insisted. Humans were more used to living on land than trolls were.



He had his own matters to deal with. Like why his vision twofold and the voices were gone. Had all of his friends been slaughtered? Was this some place where people were incapable of dying? He had no idea, he couldn’t see a bloody thing. Well, he saw lots of bloody things, the monsters that had met with their untimely demise as he moved through the streets. But he couldn’t see what was coming, only what was right in front of him. And that was more monsters that needed killing. Bastards weren't even dropping any grist. "Fuck thish shit." He took off his sunglasses to blast a whole row of monsters away from him.

[radio]
[ if the child handed it to her, it's got to be useful, right? So after a few minutes of fleeing to find somewhere safe, she examines it and - a little doubtfully - presses the button. ]

H-hello? This is Lillet Blan, a student of the Silver Star. Oh, but that might not mean anything... um, I'm a magician, but without crystals I can't-- Oh n- [ aaand it cuts off as she has to relocate ]

What am I meant to do with a Laboratory, out here?

[action]
[ at any point in this weird broadcast, you can come across Lillet running from building to building, trying to find a safe place to draw a Laboratory Rune from the overly large tome she's cradling. And failing. ]

The world lurched forward and hit Fang right in the face. Well, that's what it felt like anyway. She wasn't sure if the white room she'd just been in had been a dream or something else, but one thing was for sure. She had what felt like a killer hangover. Her head was swimming, and her limbs ached, and she found it hard to rouse herself from the cold, broken tarmac. Hand reached, searching for lance and found nothing but the radio she'd been given in that strange hazy vision.

A groan past over her lips, and she tried pushing herself up into a sitting position, but ended up hunched over, trying to make sense of everything. The last thing she remembered was--... Ragnarok. Her focus--their focus.

Reality suddenly hit Fang and she fought through the stiffness of her joints so she could look around, the worry of losing her lance put on the back burner.

"Vanille?!" she demanded, her words echoing in the empty streets. She called again, and got no response. What had that child said? Something about saving a world? And a wish? Fang hadn't really been paying much mind. You'd think she'd be used to waking up in strange places by now.

A glance was cast down at the radio, and Fang picked it up, and fiddled with some of the knobs, only getting white noise. The idea of calling out for help was too much for her and after looking at it for a moment, Fang tucked the device into her sari, and managed to get onto her feet, wincing a little at the stiffness of her joints.

"Lady luck ain't on my side today," she said to no one, cracking her back a little. Some shadows moved further down the street and caught her eye. She had to get moving. She had to find Vanille, or Light, or Snow, or someone who knew what was going on. As much as her head told her the child had said the truth, Fang was trying to remain in denial. The last time she'd been in crystal it had been hundreds of years. How did she know this wasn't what Cocoon had become? How did she not know all of what she had fought so hard to save, was now dust in the wind. And to be asked of that again, when the memories were so raw, was a bit too much for her. So she would ignore it. She would ignore everything.

"Well, no sense in sitting here lookin' pretty."