Into the Labyrinth

[Emily Littleton] Emily: Active rotes and current stats! Also, charms on hand!

-Corr 1: Absolute Placement
-Mind shield from Ashley
-WP: Temp 6 / Perm 6
-Quint: 6
-No wound levels or penalties.
-Firearm: base damage (4)

Charms on hand:
(3) Healing charms, 4 levels / charm
(1) soak charm
(1) Correspondence gating charm
to Atlas Mason, Red Right Hand

[Red Right Hand] It's late now, the streets are empty now except for the odd passerby here and there. The odd car. Early morning, when Chicago lies quietly asleep and only the street lights give off light in the streets for the most part. The night sky tonight is dark, the gray clouds almost hard to distinguish with the Moon almost completely faded from the sky.

Eerie, this night. Of all nights, the night they've chosen to act. Almost like foreboding of what waits inside. Nothing there, waiting for them, not even familiar sounds of the night life except for the klaxon of a car alarm blaring in the distance and howls of the wind that carry with it the clanking and swishing sounds of litter washed away in it. They most likely arrive by car, probably take a moment to plan this over carefully a few streets down before they're flocking out of the cars. The entire group's together, and ready. Some of them most likely carry bags or backpacks on their backs for equipment. It's a tense atmosphere, knowing that you're walking into enemy territory. Doesn't get easier knowing this fact, no matter all the preparations you take.

The two groups haven't divided yet, safety in numbers and the plan doesn't call for it at this point. Not for now. Edging closer to the large office building that towers in this side of town, a large building of roughly five stories in height, they dive through an alley. Molly got the building plans, the floor layouts and plans, not to mention she's undoubtedly deactivated the security systems when the clock strikes the decided hour.

Picking through the locks, they move swiftly and silently inside to the dark interior of the building from the backdoor. Here, they've already started to separate, splitting up to do their assigned tasks before the sweeping of the Labyrinth begins. It wasn't the only danger here.

What little security remains in the aftermath of Molly's swift acts of sabotage is easily enough dealt with. Just a few security guards, none of them seemed to notice them before being neutralized. They just weren't all there anymore, not aware enough. The price of mindless drones that can only serve, empty shells with no free will to speak of.

Down from the main hall, past the security desk and through one of the side corridors, they find the stairs and once more the groups reconvene and are together. For a while at least. Elevators are too much of a risk tonight, no doubt. It's a tiring trip, the adrenaline of this all and the tenseness don't seem to make it better. The flights of stairs seem almost endless for a while.

One floor, two floors, three, they aren't many but they're spaced far and few in between. By the time they've reached it, no doubt some of them are covered in sweat and panting for breath. But it doesn't take long for the few that are to get their bearings again. Not at the sensation of what awaits, of the creeping terror.

It washes over them, their skin, their nostrils, seeping into their lungs and further. A draft of what might be wind, oddly enough. Almost feels wet, as though sticking to their skin. Taint. Decay. Anathema. All that's wrong, all that's evil. It feels disorienting.

This way death lies.

It's lingers in this basement, like a strong aftertaste left after you've eaten something disgusting. Not the source, but close. So very close. Most people wouldn't notice it, wouldn't feel it, even if this place is strong enough to disgust even Sleepers, but they can tell where the draft comes from.

If they inspect the basement, abandoned and dilapidated as it it, they'll find it amidst the old boxes. A hidden door, even if Ashley hadn't told them of what she saw. Magically obfuscated and well built, it almost blends into the wall.

Almost.

Maybe they'll step back, try to figure it out, check for traps on it. But there's none, not on the door. Everything past it is obscured though, hidden. The Wards that lie in place, Bans, make it so. It's not hard to figure out a way through, once it's known there are no traps. A small lever hidden in a corner once they've had a look around the basement.

This place is empty of life. Dilapidated. All empty and rotting wooden boxes, cardboard boxes, equipment that's slowly rusting away in the corners. No cobwebs though. No signs of mice, holes in boxes that would indicate their presence or the little sounds they make in the darkness. No cockroaches. Nothing.

Everything seems to avoid it.

But it's not their concern, they know the why. Are ready for it. Or think they are anyway.

The Labyrinth door opening to what is nothing less than pure, pitchblack darkness. A stronger draft of corrupting winds flowing into the room as it does. Now at last they split up once more. The first group, support more than firepower, goes first into the abyss. Searching for traps, first to do reconnaissance.

-----

Inside the darkness is different than outside, in a way. The taint is almost so thick that they can feel it pushing through their lungs as they breath, taking it in. It probably makes them feel like they're almost choking. But the place is dimly lit, torches every few feet providing most of the lighting. The corridor wide enough for them to pass comfortably but not much more, not enough room for much maneuvering.

Then, even with her Correspondence giving her a sense of Space, Emily can feel it shifting. Changing. This place disorients them. Every step they take deeper in feels like they're getting lost. The entrance is no longer properly visible a few moments in, and they feel like they've taken a different path. Gotten lost all together and now that place is hard to find.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas frowns as he steps inside, looking around at the space before him as he moves his hands over his gear, physically inspecting it as there is no light with which to visually inspect. It's a matter of sanity, the inspection. It keeps his mind focused on the task ahead, and not on the horrors that lie within the labyrinth.

The darkness however was not going to do, Atlas had the L.A.D.I already strapped to his head, and with the flick of a few of the levers on the side of his head, Atlas enables several versions of additional sense's so that he is not quite lost.

"Initiate preperatory devices Emily..." Atlas says quietly as he moves forward ever so slowly, waiting on his senses to kick up.

[Matter, Corr and Prime sight diff 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 9 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Atlas Mason] [Extension]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 4 (Botch x 1 at target 5)

[Atlas Mason] [Dox]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Emily Littleton] Late it is when they gather to assault the labyrinth. Late the null moon has given way to only the barest of fish-hook smiles. Only the thinnest slice of argent light. And for all the hopefulness that might bring, the thick blanket of cloud cover swallows it up and drowns them all in the wanting again. There's no heavenly sigil to guide them home tonight, and yet into the madness they ride.

The Orphan (Singer to some-day be?) is quiet. Focused. There is a thrum of active magics around her, both her own and borrowed gifts, things bestowed. The Adept's mind shield encircles her, presses in like the jaws of serpent-thing, Hungers. Her sense of Space is called forward, like a talisman in her mind, a bastion to hold onto, a firmity: Unrelenting Reverence. She is wearing a leather jacket that has yet to fully break in, but it's soft enough now to move when she moves. In her pockets are the charms, each in their own place, separate so she might know the difference without thinking.

In a holster at her back is the borrowed firearm. She's practiced now at readying it without thinking. It's a skill, not an innate talent. Her foci are at the ready, those that require a physical thing.

Her hair is bound back, braided tightly and twined into a bun at the back of her head. It offers no hand hold. No purchase. No leverage.

"I'm good," she tells the Etherite beside her, while they both check their pockets, take stock of their surroundings, feel the world slide-shift. It almost makes her queasy, but she fights to right herself. She feels his effect unravel, and her brow pinches with worry.

Down, down, down, into the belly of the beast they'll go. Down to seek the Minotaur. Down like Persephone. Down.

She's good. She's as ready as she will ever be. She's wishing she were at home, reading a good book, but this is where she's needed and so into the labyrinth they go.

[Emily Littleton] [Alertness: modified by active Corr sense, dif 6 per ST]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] Atlas' senses swim into view, provided by the science powered by his headset and begins to look about, estimating distances and dimensions as much as he can. It hurts his mind to try, but he does it out of habit. He's somewhat disturbed when he looks back and notes that the door is no longer directly behind him, but he doesn't comment. No point in creating any kind of panic...or at least apprehension.

He nod's to Emily and pulls out his revolver, keeping it at the ready. He advances slowly, carefully he still walks tall and proud, as they have yet to encounter anything particularly dangerous, even as bad as it is now.

[Per+Alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] [Alertness: Re-trying at +1 dif. C'mon, Kahseeno. I brought you an offering this time. We're friends, right?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[Emily Littleton] She's starting to feel a little like Solomon as Emily unholsters her firearm, settles it into her hand, and notes the prayer beads in her inner left pocket. God's Children come bearing weapons (Go with God and a big bag of guns). She doesn't linger on the thought, though.

There's a quiet click of her boot heels on the flooring as they walk. It's a small sound, but it grounds them. It places her in relation to Atlas. The heels are broad, square, sturdy, but it gives her an extra two inches; tops her out nearing six feet. The height helps. She stands tall, shoulders squared, chin up: she was like this when they descended into Edom's trap as well. Proud. Diplomat's Daughter. Feigned surety. (Grace under fire.)

The entrance is not where they left it, and this is not some metaphysical commentary on growing up or another spiritual journey. Her jaw tightens, and the sound of her footsteps stall for a moment. Then quicken as she catches up with the Etherite.

Neither of them speak, just now.

[Red Right Hand] Taking a moment to regain their footing and senses in this place, they can notice their surroundings better. They don't feel like they're twisting now as they stand. Don't feel like every step will cause you to be off balance and fall on your side. Instead, they make sense of their immediate area. It's the same corridor as before, nothing's changed.

Behind them is dark though, too dark. It isn't the dim lighting, but something else. To their front is the same, like they can't really place what lies before, can't see farther than a certain point from themselves. But they can at least notice a strange shape in the distance, it lies just at the end of their field of vision.

What seems like a portrait on the wall, maybe.

[Emily Littleton] [Awareness: dif 8, per ST. Inspecting picture, feeling for heebie-jeebies.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Emily Littleton] [Willpower: dif 8, per ST. I must remember not to be curious like Alice. I must not seek the Jabberwocky.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Red Right Hand] It's empty, the portrait. Literally just empty space. Dark, empty space like staring into the Vacuum from a front row seat. But there's an unsettling air around it, and Emily feels it for a moment. Just barely, not enough to react in time.

An allure that just won't let her take her eyes off it for a moment. The painting is changing now. Atlas doesn't see it, can't see it, but Emily does. It's a swirling thing, like memories coming back from the depth as it gains color, picture, integrity.

Remember the basement? The helplessness as it all went on? The feeling of being unable to tell anyone, because they wouldn't understand. They literally wouldn't understand. It's there again, in clear quality like she was seeing it again. That basement.

[Atlas Mason] [Per+Alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] It's a warm night and the walls smell damp like river mud. The dampness never leaves this place, under ground as it is. There's a pale shaft of streetlight cutting through the low window where the room breaks just above ground-level. Just enough to offer out hope. But the window is thick glass, shut solid, grimed over. No one can hear her.

No one has come.

There's a throb at her side that no longer feels like an ache. She's gone beyond hurting. She doesn't feel it as a sharp pain, only the searing pressure when she breathes in, breathes out, and god forbid she try to move. The corners of her eyes are crusted with salt-from-tears.

There are footsteps in the hall.

The girl cries out; no, it's only a stifled sob.

Seven years. It has been seven years, three months, nine days. The memory is still clear like crystal, suspended in something fragile like glass. It breaks forward like a shattering, stealing her breath away with a gasp. There's a small, whimpered sound from the Orphan in the hallway as it floods her; she pales in the darkness. Her hands shake.

Emily does not call out, but there's a sharp, pained intake of breath. As if she's been hit, hard, and the wind was knocked out of her and she's only now gasping again for air. There's a rapt and tortured look to her expression, and the pride has fallen away from her like a loosed mantle.

Inwardly she flails, presses hard at the memory, pushes it down, down, down where it belongs. It makes her nauseous (the memory of broken and unmended bones), unsteady. There are tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas advances down the hallway, his senses all on high alert. He breaths evenly, and deeply even as he continues to check over his equipment. His gaze trackes over to Emily on a frequent basis, checking on her positioning, her disposition and her general level of stress.

The appearance of an abnormality on the wall down the way gives Atlas pause. It was the first sign of anything unusual in this place of absurdity and defiance of all logic and science. It is a place Atlas loathes, hates, and of course fears.

But for him, these fears are in check, as he registers the sharp intake of Emily he wonders precisely what it is that has caused her to do so, if he could see the look on her face he may be concerned but at this moment he only queries. "Emily? Please dictate vocally your nominal status?"

This is before the shape flies across his senses and his gun comes up, tracking, seeking, looking for the source of movement once more. He moves next to Emily, keeping close so that it couldn't just get one of them.

[Red Right Hand] In the darkness, there is nothing. No more sounds, no shapes. It's all just as it seems. For now at least, Atlas can figure them safe. If such a concept applies in this place.

The young Orphan however, is slowly reliving the days of nightmares. It's shifting too, not just like a film anymore. Her perceptions are drawn into it. The young girl who was trapped 7 years ago is no longer someone she watches from a 3rd person view. She's becoming her.

Seeing through the girl's, her, eyes again. Feeling the trepidation, the increased pulse as her heart beats so quickly from fear and foreboding.

[Emily Littleton] [Willpower: I am stronger than this, and this was a long, long time ago. dif 6]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] She knows what happens next. She can place the day of this memory; knows it bone deep and absolutely. She knows the prayers that slip her lips are no longer for salvation, for grace. By then (now) she is praying only for deliverance. For an ending.

Take me home, now. Don't make me endure this. Please, God, if you love me, bring me home... let me die.

She feels the toe of his boot as it eases under her hip, lifts upward, turns her over to her back. Emily-then struggles, but only so much. Her eyes are empty, hollowed through. Trying to fight back hurts more than what comes next ...

Atlas asks her to say something, to tell him she's okay, but the Orphan is standing with her gaze transfixed. Mesmerized. Caught (kept). This is a state she tries to avoid, because it is so damned hard for her to break free. Atlas asks if she's okay, and the Emily-now who is reliving these moments, feeling them anew on her skin whispers, plaintively, to an un-seen and un-hearing deity:

No. No, God, oh, please... please just let me die.

There's a preternatural sadness to it, a depth of hurt and anguish he has never heard from her. No one in this city, at present, has heard her like this. It's heart wrenching.

And still she cannot look away.

[Atlas Mason] No response, no response was bad. When someone was with you, in the middle of a nephandic stronghold without platoon strength support there were certain steps, a certain methodology to ascertain precisely what the problem was.

Atlas recounts them in his head as he turns towards the woman, step one, verbally assess the situation, done...not looking good. Step two, physically assess....

Atlas reaches over and puts his hand onto Emily's shoulder and gives her a slight shake. "Emily, reactivate external sensors and proceed on route to concurrent objective." He says firmly as he triess to wake her as he tries to watch the closing darkness.

If she doesn't respond quickly...he readies himself to initiate step three...forcefully disengage the individual.

[Atlas Mason] [Int+Perc]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] Atlas touches her, and his voice is clear and more-or-less in a language she knows. It is not the slanted consonants and graveled roughness of the men in a city far far away and long long ago. It's enough to pull her out, with a gasp and a start, from the reverie the painting plunged her into.

She flinches, at first, at his hand on her shoulder, the firm but still gentled shake (gentle in comparison). Were it brighter in this place of madness, she would have started at the brightness. Blinked it back. But it's dark, and she is still underground, and all measure of epithets cross her mind in languages both known and foreign with the fluency of long-association and often usage.

It's a flurry of curses. It'd be impressive, if she voiced them.

She exhales, pushing all of this from her thoughts, grounding herself in the immanent danger and hatefulness of the present rather than the helplessness and fear of the past.

"Cheers," she says, and her voice is no longer lament-aching and reverie-lost. It's harder. Firmer. Shaken but seeking center once more.

"I got lost for a moment," she tells him. Takes stock of the weapon in her hand. Doesn't reach up to push the prick of tears away from her eyes.

[Emily Littleton] [Int + Perc: Remembering things. dif 6, per ST]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] (Those're Alertness not Perc, I just screwed up in telling them and they got confused in the names!)

[Atlas Mason] [Int+Alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] Ever had tiny little realizations at bad moments? Like, forgot the spare magazines to your handgun. Or maybe that you left your backpack somewhere else? It's like that, what they suddenly realize. Wasn't there a third person with them before they entered?

The large man with that gritty and active quality to him? One of the two members of the other Cabal? Where was he? Wasn't he supposed to be only moments behind them entering? Minutes at most? Then another realization. How long had it been? The notion of time seems like an almost lost concept here. It's hard to tell, and their watches have stopped working for some reason.

How long have they been in here? Where's the help?

[Atlas Mason] Atlas nods as she comes back into this reality, having left whatever memories or visions behind in her mind, at least he certainly hoped so. He looked from one eye to the next, like a doctor might if he was checking for a concussion before. "Remain localized within this reality and molecularly based planar level Emily, diffusion from this situation is unwise...given the current juncture." He says looking about carefully.

"There is one, homo sapien proportioned aberrant factor movating within this locality within no more then twenty standardized units of measure." He says as he turns to continue forward. "Engage and utilize all available sensory gathering capabilities and attempt to ascertain viable target structures and extraction points."

At that he begins moving forward once more, there was no point in waiting here, standing here. The creature would come for them eventually...but being ready was what mattered. Atlas as well remembers all of these things, and as much as they drag on his scientific mind, he compartmentalizes it, keeps it under lock and key. All they could do was move forward, move forward or move back...he does not mention the quickly sliding percentages of their survival.

[Emily Littleton] It takes a moment, to slide from where she was into a mindset that allowed for and answered to Atlas-Speak. It's not her native language, despite her skillsets. He tells her to remain localized, and there's a flare of irritation. It pinches the corner of her eyes a little. She does not give voice to it.

"I'm.... sorry."

She gives voice to a little of it, but not much. It could easily be taken as frustration with the experience, not his intimation that she'd enjoyed where she was off to.

She shrugs it off, and applies herself to reacquainting herself with the darkness, the hallway, her absolute sense of direction and where it places them. She does not extend her life sense, just the mundane abilities she's grown into over time.

If there's a footfall out of place, she's listening. A movement in the near-dark. She's watching. If she can corr-feel her way around the next corner, all over that. Scanning a den of horrible doom and torture for Living Patterns -- no, no thanks. I'll pass.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Red Right Hand] It's a quiet journey for now. Atlas hears no more of the sounds, of the movement across their backs. Instead, all they feel now is that same draft of wind and corruption. It's slowly mounting up on them, they feel it. Slowly seeping into their skins, into their very bones.

More portraits along the way as they trek the corridor, too. They aren't like the ones Emily saw before though, they are of grotesque things and nightmares taken form. Of brutality in it's purest form. Almost too real, too. Like they were truly seeing it in front of them. These things, they carry a very distinct Resonance to them. Carry the taint and corruption on them, are made of it. Lingering is as dangerous as moving forward.

But it isn't long before the hallway finally opens up to something, a fork in the road. They now have three options, to press forward, to go to the right or to go to the left. Three corridors to follow. All of them with doors in sight along their way, made of what seems to be red marble and with gold handles. The forward corridor in particular has three or four doors. Each one reeking of a particular and very difference sort of Resonance, all of it corrupted though. All of it wrong.

[Emily Littleton] They come upon doors that feel of wrongness, wrongness and magic, magic like spheres. They are seeped in Entropy and seasoned with other gifts. There is a door of Life, one of Correspondence, one of Spirit -- and the long and unfamiliar path ahead, the long and unfamiliar path behind. There are more doors. These doors naturally lead to other doors.

Emily pulls a piece of chalk from one of her pockets. This is, after all, a labyrinth. A place of puzzles. Of getting lost. There is another team behind them (before them). They can leave markings, leave clues, leave signs.

On the door that tastes of Correspondence, she writes Corr. On the one of Life, Life. On the one of Spirit, Spirit. The chalk is white-bright in the darkness, her letters clear and unambigious.

"I don't like going further in," she tells Atlas, "But we should mark where we've been. What we know. Until the chalk runs out, or we find the others, or we get ourselves out. I should have marked by the picture, but I wasn't thinking clearly."

A pause here. A small beat. Thoughtfulness but nothing more.

"I don't know Spirit, so I don't want to go that way. I do know the others. You should choose from there. Under no circumstance, should we part ways."

[Emily Littleton] [Alertness: Beware the belly of the beast.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] Atlas pauses at the intersection and takes several long moments to look down each corridor as if his deliberations were giving him some true, deep insight into which path would make the most sense for them to travel. In truth, the man was entirely uncertain, all of them were wrong, all of them were hallways, and all of them had doors.

The only difference was, that Atlas could see the symbols of the spheres he considered approaching one, but for now he waited, waited and looked over to Emily.

"Your Thesis is sound Emily." He says as he turns to look at the doors once more. He seems certain, when he truly isn't in the end. The man had to make a decision, press forward so it were, as foolish as such ideas were. He casually points to the door marked with the symbol of life.

"It's variables are as calculatable as the others. Shall we diverge from the established free forming linear movation rectangle to ascertain and investigate?" He says as he steps up to it. If she agree's he will move to open the door.

[Red Right Hand] Emily hears clearly now, the foreboding silence in this place except for whispers. Yes, she can hear whispers now. Voices everywhere, from the portraits before them and the very walls. It feels haunting, like they're calling to them for something.

But she doesn't see anything or anyone, no creatures or movement. No shadow like Atlas saw.
to Emily Littleton

[Emily Littleton] She stands a little straighter. Prick straight. Taut. Tense. She tries to pull her shoulders down, but the whispers trickle down her spine, make her shudder as she glances around them -- looks up, then down the hallway. This place feels like being watched, being judged.

It's a trick of the corridor, she decides. This decision helps push them through the door. Emily nods to Atlas, then circles the word on the door: inscribes it.

We went this way.

"Let's go," she tells him, and slides her second hand to steady (ready) the firearm as he opens the door. It's still pointed down and away, but she could raise it quickly, aim and fire, if Life meant this Labyrinth's Minotaur would come barrelling at them as soon as they stepped inside.

[Atlas Mason] [Per+Alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Per+Aware]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] [Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] Emily nods, and Atlas nod's in return. He presses himself against the door and raises the gun ever so slightly, prepared to shoot just as much as Emily was. He took one more look over to the woman who was with him, took one deep breath and turned the door knob slowly until it clicked, and then slowly....slowly pushed it open.

This was always the most dangerous part of going through such a place...one never knew what someone might do with a door like this, any number of booby traps could lay in wait.

[Red Right Hand] Life. Corrupted, turned inside out into a mockery of itself. That was what the Nephandic magic of it was, really. It's almost exactly what they feel with gutwrenching horror and disgust. So overpowering a sensation that even the corruption that hangs in the very air they've been breathing makes it seem simple. There is much magic past here, but as with the other doors, the magic that most defines this path is the magic of Qlippothic Life, built into the place and let free.

The entrance itself holds no traps, it's what it appears to be just as the Labyrinth entrance was what it was. Still, they can tell that it is no safer a place than the corridor they're on. In some ways, the feeling they're getting makes it clear that it might be unsafer in a myriad of other ways.

...Then Atlas slowly opens it. For a moment, he sees nothing wrong with it except more of the dark concrete corridors that composed this basement. It'd be a normal basement if it wasn't for what they knew and felt to be here.

But then they notice it, deeper in the darkness of it. It covers the walls, the floor, and a smell wafts to where they are. Of deep rotting, like meat left out in the sun for weeks on end and covered in maggots. The sight itself is even more horrifying, like the walls of a Science Fiction living ship. As though someone took organs and pasted them to walls and floor, grew them and created a path, a room, of flesh and organs. But tumorous, twisted like it carried cancer. Boils along it that are sickening, bloated parts that seem like it's been dead for ages.

[Atlas Mason] [WP Keep them cookies where they belong!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Emily Littleton] [Willpower: Let's not add to this mess!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Atlas Mason] Atlas braces himself against the stench, his deep breaths quickly become much shorter, much more shallow as if trying to keep the stench from filling his lungs, and emptying his stomach. He stepped forward into the rotting, and yet living hallway and looked above him, and to his left and right. If nothing immediately attempts to eat him he waves Emily forward.

"Curious, but not entirely unexpected. Consistency and displacement similar to certain structural alternations rendered unto the materiel of the USS Eldridge." He says as if it were for a recording. He looked back at Emily and tried to smile.

"Particulars form a composite and standard by which to measure, promising."

[Emily Littleton] The smell hits her first, foul and heavy, rancid turning sweet again. It's bilious, even before her stomach tries to crawl back up her esophagus and empty itself all over the floor.

Don't look at the floor, Emily.

Or think about it -- too late. The floor was damp and squishy beneath her feet. There was a delightful squick-slurp sound when it released the soles of their shoes. It was slippery, too, which added to the quiet horror of it. Emily breathed through her mouth, slow and shallow and followed Atlas further into the living corridor.

She'd had enough biology classes to distinguish some of the organ-meat that hung on the walls like pieces of tapestry, interwoven, macabrely artistic.

"I can't... really mark where we're going in here," she says, as if stating the obvious would help ground them somehow. Chalk on organs? Wasn't going to work well. "Let's keeping making either left or right turns, so that it's easier to remember when we have to come back."

Pragmatic. It answers his science. It's the only way she can deal with this chaos, to make it simpler, cut down the game theory tree to the barest routes, proceed like this was somehow normal and utterly survivable if untenably terrible at all the same time.

[Red Right Hand] It isn't long before they come to the first turn. Only one way to go here, to the right. From there the scenery of intestines seems only to intensify and worsen, as though they're going deeper into the center of it. With every squish that their footsteps make, they can feel a slight shaking under them. Like a rumbling from the organ-walls and floor, like it was alive and it felt them stepping through.

But it isn't all they notice now as they tread it. Every time it rumbles, they can see them. Small insects, the size of small cockroaches, grotesquely escaping from the pustules and boils, some times popping them in the process as though they had been the thing under them. Inside them, infesting the place. They're not like insects they've ever seen before, they carry the same Resonance as the rest of this place and every bit as corrupted in their appearance, like Little Mutated Creatures of Horror. Some bigger than others, almost the size of a toe, and they are every bit as revolting if not more as they creep from opening to opening in the living structure.

The next opening however, is not as simple as before. The path splits once more. One hall to the left and one to the right. The organ-constructs continue both ways.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas frowns, disgusted and disgruntled by the insects that infest and habitat within the organs and flesh of this nightmarish hallway. He avoids the insects as much as possible, unless they come for him, for the time being willing to let them live, so long as they do not swarm over him and drag him down.

He cant help but to examine some of the organs as they walk, attempting to identify and label some of them, this he keeps to himself. As the approach the path, Atlas looks one way and then the next. It seem's pointless to deliberate at each turn now, not without some form of objective or guiding light....and so he chooses the left path.

[Emily Littleton] The further they go, the more intricate and riddled-through the hallway becomes. Here a fat, engorged and throbbing tumor distends what would have been a kidney. There a chitter-skitter-bug popping out of a lung, disturbing the countless tiny sacs within, letting them pop like bubble-wrap beneath its pinch-tiny-sharp toes.

Emily observes without letting much in. She tries to regulate it to a thing imagined, separate it from the ever-present struggle to remain alert, aware, to keep her place within the madness. When they turn the corner and are faced with an unknowable quandary, Atlas chooses the left hand path.

Left. Sinister. Mal.

She glances down the other hallway, wonders what the dexter path might have brought them, and follows the Etherite. Onward, into the breach.

[Red Right Hand] When they turn across the left path, they might notice that the deeper they go through it the more the organs seem to contract. To thin out. Until slowly, the corridor is once more a concrete wall-and-floor construct. It's like being back in the main hallway again, they even feel it that way as it seems to twist and turn when they walk.

Like a straight path but they feel like they're taking turn at every other moment, walking over a corner. That's what their physical senses tell them, while the Correspondence Effect in place tells them that they are in fact in the same path. It's a confusing thing, how the perceptions conflict.

But that's not all that lies in wait for them here. Not for the time being.

[Red Right Hand] She first notices when they're back in the concrete hall. The whispers again, calling to her. They come from everywhere and nowhere, in the same disorienting matter as the rest of this damned labyrinth. But if she looks around, searching for a sign, she'll notice something... someone, at the edge of her view in front of them.

He's a man, from what she can see. A completely human man, dressed in a fine red robe and with the hood drawn back. She can see his face, gaunt and pale with thin gray hair that's almost receding. Then it strikes her, a detail of his face. There's sockets where his eyes should be, but no eyeballs, and there is no mouth. It's simply a strip of skin over an otherwise normal face.

In the same moment she reaches this realization, she can see him step backwards. Compelling her to follow him. Like the voices around her, he's calling to her and she has a hard time resisting.
to Emily Littleton

[Emily Littleton] This is the hall of whispers again. Emily tries not to think about it as if she had walked in a big loop through the hall of distended and disjoint body parts only to arrive back where she began. The walls slide-shift in her vision, but her Corr rote holds her steady. She trusts the magical sense over the mundane, which is why, when a Man appears before her in the path, one hand slides into her pocket and wraps around the stone prayer beads.

There is a surety to them still, and it is comforting to her to have a piece of him with her in this den on inequity. Emily reaches out with her quintessential awareness, studies whatever effects the robed figure may have in the works.

If she can track him, through his resonance, as they move through the hallway, then maybe she can place him as friend or foe. Maybe she can identify him as real or illusory.

And if he's foe. And if he's real. Then maybe she'll get a clear shot at him soon, and that firearm will find home and ...

... it all hinges on this effect. Lo though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; I shall fear no evil.

[Prime 1: practiced; unique focus... dif 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 4 (Failure at target 3)
to Red Right Hand

[Emily Littleton] [Retrying: +1 dif]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 4 (Failure at target 4)
to Red Right Hand

[Red Right Hand] The hall is quiet again, as the two grind to a halt. Each for their odd reasons, not as a group now but as individuals who have realized something somewhere in this place. Emily is watching something down the path and venturing into the darkness carefully, with scrutiny. What it is, Atlas doesn't really have time to notice as he's turning to deal with what he himself has noticed.

And suddenly, Emily can hear it behind her. A surprising sound, no doubt catching her by surprise in this situation as she still focuses. It's a gunshot, and it comes from where Atlas is standing behind her. From the sounds of it, he's fired at something somewhere in the opposite direction from where they came.

[Red Right Hand] As Emily watches the Man, or the creature, he seems to halt. His head turning just slightly so that there are no doubts in her mind that he's looking straight at her. Even without eyes, without sight, he still knows where she is.

Then he's taking a step forward, towards her, with his arms extending as though in welcome. And still she feels it in her mind, calling him. He wants Emily to walk to him, to come to his arms. The voices agree too, nudging her to step forward.
to Emily Littleton

[Emily Littleton] [Willpower: Listening to the talking walls is a bad idea. Do not walk into the embrace!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)
to Red Right Hand

[Emily Littleton] [Firearms: dif 6, -1 active corr rote; WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]
to Red Right Hand

[Emily Littleton] [Damage: base damage 4 + 2 suxx]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Red Right Hand

[Emily Littleton] There is a man at the end of the corridor who is beckoning her home. His arms outstretched, his sightless eyes trained on her, and even the walls spoke to her of welcome.

It tugs at some part of Emily, some need to be accepted and welcomed. It tugs, but in this place of wrongness that tug only galvanizes her against following the compulsion. When the very walls speak of surrender, it is definitely time to stand one's ground.

Behind her, somewhere, Atlas fires. The sound of gunshots rings through the corridor. Emily aims at the man, with his open outstretched arms, his false promises of welcome, and focuses both her correspondence-touched aim and her will.

She pulls the trigger, and watches the shot hit home.
to Red Right Hand

[Red Right Hand] It impacts the man in the stomach, the shot does. Pushed him backward for a moment and makes him lose his balance because of it, but it doesn't last. He's recovering and taking another slow step forward and another. As nothing seems to drip out of the wound, no blood or viscera, nothing. It's like he was hollow inside.

But again he stretches his arms to her and beckons her. Like a father calling his child home.
to Emily Littleton

[Emily Littleton] [Firearms: dif 6, -1 active corr rote]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)
to Red Right Hand

[Atlas Mason] [Damage +1 for called]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 6, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] [Damage: base 4 + 2 sux]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)
to Red Right Hand

[Emily Littleton] There's nothing oozing from the wound, but it seemed to push him back. Emily isn't sure what to make of that, just now. The hollowness. The unrecanting invitation. The horrible feeling that if he got too close the inviting would become something a bit more demanding, a bit more immanent.

So she fires again, this time without the press of her will behind it, but the bullet finds home just as surely. Finds home and glances aside. It doesn't dig into his flesh. It leaves more more hollows behind.
to Red Right Hand

[Red Right Hand] Again, he stumbles back as before. Emily can see it. It wasn't the gunshot, it was something else. The Man seems to lose strength for a moment, swoon and then slowly he's falling forward as though dead drunk. Or maybe so fatally wounded that he just can't go on.

Then slowly, the body starts to disintegrate. Simply disappearing and leaving no trace of it's existence behind.
to Emily Littleton

[Red Right Hand] Again more gunshots ring through the empty halls, amplified by the lack of space to the point that they can hear their own ears ringing and their heads pounding. It was the anxiety and fear that did it as much as the loud bangs. But then from behind Emily, they stop as though whatever was going on is over. Maybe Atlas has fallen, maybe he's been successful.

It wasn't easy to tell as she continues to fire. When it's all over though, and she turns to look. To find what Atlas' state is, she can see him kneeling, with his face contorted in pain. Groping for the charm that's in his pocket and probably holding his stomach as though holding guts in.

What she can't see, however, is his enemy. Just like her own, it's seemed to disappear. And if she steps closer to him, she'll notice this too: there is no blood. Not the creature's, not Atlas'. Nor is there a sign of physical wounds upon his body that would cause the amount of pain he seems to be in at the moment.

Nothing. Not a trace of it. His body is as it was moments before. Even he notices it as the adrenaline rush fades, and he looks down to see how bad his wounds are before taking in the charm. The shirt that was soaked in blood and torn apart is completely fine and without a stain. The pain, though, is very real, and he can feel it still. The wounds might not be there, but they feel like it and he feels faint because of it.

Like blood loss will claim him at any moment.

(Atlas is at 6B, mental damage-style)

[Emily Littleton] The form before her falls, turns to dust, falls to dust: ashes. She's taking a step back, falling back, even as she watches it disintegrate. Once she's sure it's faded, then she turns full toward Atlas, only to find him kneeling on the ground and nearly overcome by pain.

"Atlas? Do you have the charms I gave you?" Her voice is level, calm and focused. It's clear. Something to hold on to. She's willed the note of panic out of it as she takes a knee beside him. The firearm falls to one hand (doesn't matter which, her mind and body don't care about the difference) and she fishes out the one of Israel's three charms that she has for herself.

Just in case he can't get to his. This is offered.

"You remember how these work? Drink it down, and focus your will."

[Atlas Mason] Atlas blinks in surprise at the damage healed, but the pain remaining. He knows that he's still hurt, still wounded, but the nature of the wounding is no longer quite as frightening or dangerous. He pulls the charm from his pocket and shakes his head at the proffered charm clutched in Emily's hand.

"That....was most perturbatory." He says slowly as he drinks down the potion. He lets the comments slide, such sights were concerning, and sometimes silly things were said. The bottle drained and his will focused, Atlas slowly stands, feeling much, much better then before and sighs.

[Emily Littleton] [Alertness: No ambushes, no whammies.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 4)

[Red Right Hand] It takes a while, as they're getting themselves ready again and focusing. But the gunshots in this place go a long time, and it was only natural that they call attention. They can hear it now, the faint sound of footsteps in the dark, with the odd pause between them that suggest that whoever, or whatever, it is seems to be stumbling. Injured maybe, or just a Horror with odd legs this time around.

In this place, who really knew?

[Atlas Mason] [Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] [Awareness: Anyone familiar?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] There's an odd shuffle step coming around the corner, and Emily rises to her feet again. She's not injured and recovering, so she can move more freely than he can. She can offer cover -- however odd that may seem in the context of the half-year they've known each other, wherein she was the Apprentice, the bright-eyed newbie, the lesser of two willworkers.

Now the girl imposes her body between the Etherite and the coming presence. She raises her firearm at the ready. And she stretches out with her awareness to see if it might be someone they know, someone who should not be shot first and questioned later.

These moments are echoes of the mage she was becoming. They herald her future Order within the Chorus.

[Red Right Hand] It sweeps over them in this place, amidst the choking taint, the Entropic sensations and everything else they'd dealt with, and this Resonance is recognizable. It's even comforting in it's own way, even if not quite close enough to be familiar. That same active and gritty that they'd felt before from one of the allies, the man who was supposed to meet them down here.

Doesn't take long, if they stay in the same place, for the shadow of him to come into sight in the darkness. His left arm pressed against his right shoulder where blood was seeping into his clothes and dripping down his arm, and his left leg's no better either with what seems to be a small stab wound in the hip area. The man's hurt.

As they come into sight, though, he's doing his best to lift his arm just enough to signal them in a gesture that's either a 'hello' or a 'come here'. Still stumbling towards them slowly.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas was still recovering as the noise came to his senses, that shuffling, scrapping walk of something deep in the darkness. His revolver, and old five shot was already empty, and he didn't have the time necessary to do a proper reload and realign. So the man grips the shells in his pocket, poping open the cyclinder and began reloading as quickly as possible.

But as Emily stood there, defiant and ready as Atlas crouched near her reloading at a speedy, but still mechanical pace. The resonance floods over him and Atlas looks up at Emily.

"Negative combat appropriate targetting Emily..." He warns her, ensuring that its not a real threat, which is proven the second their compatriot steps around the corner. Atlas nods to their missing third, and finishes loading his weapon before sealing the cylinder once more and standing slowly.

"We should continue to advance in a forward momentum. Have you discovered and ascertained any information of merit or value?" He inquires as he goes to pull out the other vial of healing liquid to give to the man.

[Emily Littleton] When the (barely) familiar resonances come into focus, she lowers the firearm to one side. This is about the time that Atlas is telling her not to engage, and the other man is probably quite happy to see the barrel of that firearm pointed anywhere but at him.

Emily is developing a sense of zealotry to her, with all that Unrelenting Reverence, and the surety she's found within her path. When Atlas starts to pull out his charm, she holds a hand out, a clear No gesture.

"You should hold on to that. I can at least try to heal." She hands the wounded man her charm from Israel instead, and tells him roughly the same thing she told Atlas.

"Drink it down, and focus your will. It should taste of honey."

She withdrew another charm from her pocket, a trinket from the Adept of their Chantry, and used this for herself.

[Activating Ashley Soak Charm -1 WP. Temp WP is now 4]

[Red Right Hand] It takes a moment for the man, who's arched a brow at the charm, to nod and take it. Drinking it down and feeling as his muscles mend and the flesh begins to stitch itself together. Until suddenly, all that reminds of his wounds are the pain and he's leaning against a wall much as it wasn't advisable in this labyrinth of death.

A look to the two as he nods to them in a mixed greeting/thanks. "I wasn' de only one tha hear yer shots, ye know? Prolly comin' as we speak." It's a warning, as he reaches into his jacket and redraws his handgun to get ready for a fight just in case.

They can feel it too, and hear it in the silence, there really is movement out there. It's not close, not yet, but it's moving in. No doubt they know their way around their own home.

[Atlas Mason] The man delivers his ill tidings, and the noise from the horror filled tunnels confirm the tale he told. Atlas frowned at that, something he was doing more and more in this place. Their strategic positioning was tenuous at best, no cover, no shelter and he was already down to ten rounds. But he had an endurance charm, and so in preparation Atlas pulled out that charm and used it. Preparing himself for the coming battle.

"We must prepare and deploy an appropriate defensive position." He says looking about at their surrounding and pointed back towards the corner they had rounded. "There, utilization of this juncture will provide cover from oncoming aberrant's and still provide a firing point from which to answer and address incoming hostile action."

He moves to the corner quickly, no longer woozy and pulls out the archaic looking, metal globe that was his version of a grenade. "I will deploy my anti-bioform chemical release force exponential detonator device, followed by a secondary device from either of your personages. Teritary devices will be maintained in the eventuality that we are flanked."

He points to positions for each of them, knowing full well what he was doing. Sadly, military tactics were something he knew about, from a long long time ago.

[Emily Littleton] The silence is restless. Emily knows that restlessness well. She's been restless since the thing with Edom began, since before that really, since the first assault on the Chantry. And here they are, in the belly of a labyrinth, with walls of madness, waiting on the enemy to hunt them down.

But they are not helpless. They are fortified by their friends' charms, renewed, made hopeful again. This hall of whipsers has not claimed her sanity. The words that trickle down her spine no longer confuse and distract her.

The man who is known only by his resonances drinks. He gathers himself anew for battle. She resettles her grip on the borrowed firearm, trains her attention down the hallway, tries not to let the waiting get to her.

Atlas positions them back into the hallway, and Emily goes where she is told. Stands ready. Keeps the anti-bio............ GRENADE, Atlas, just say Grenade ... thingy at the ready to 'deploy' on his signal.

Being Ambidextrous was a boon, here, in that she did not have to move her firearm to an off hand to lob a device into the fray.

[Red Right Hand] The man takes his position as well, silently waiting for the coming waves. He doesn't know them, probably will never get to. It just didn't interest him, revenge was everything now. For their dead Mentor, for the things these people had done. For this very Labyrinth.

So he's there and helping them, that's all there is to it.

Meanwhile, they can hear the running grow closer and closer, until it's near them. It's not hard to tell in the silence that it's three pair of feet coming their way, rushing to them. Then they turn the corner on the other side, hard for the trio to see as it is, and they're in range. But they also know the others are there as is obvious from the combat positions they've taken, there is no surprise attack to be had.

[Nephandus: +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Red Right Hand] [Drone 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Emily Littleton] [Emily: +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Red Right Hand] [Drone 2: +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Atlas Mason] [Atlas +5]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Red Right Hand] [John: +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Red Right Hand] Order:

Nephandus: 14
John: 13
Atlas: 8
Emily: 7
Drone 2: 5
Drone 1: 4

[Red Right Hand] The two gunmen take positions near a corner of their own and attempt to chip away at the Magi with gunshots.

[Drone 1: Shoot Atlas]
[Drone 2: Shoot John]

[Emily Littleton] Emily will wait for Atlas's signal (or grenade throw) and then:

1a: Throw grenade at nephandi
1b: Shoot nephandi

[Atlas Mason] Atlas doesn't waste a nano second, not even a light second. As soon as the targets rear their heads around the far corner the man primes the archaic looking grenade and lobs it down the hallway.

1a Throw Grenade

[Red Right Hand] John too takes quick aim, trying to pick them off because they can cause heavy damage to their side. He's been waiting for this.

[1a. Shoot Drone 1, 1b. Shoot Drone 1 (if dead, shoot 2), 1c. Shoot Drone 1]

[Red Right Hand] Nephandus: Working Rote on Emily

[Red Right Hand] [Entropy attack, Q. Entropy 2, vulgar, diff 6 (-1 Resonance, -1 practiced); suxx needed: 1 to target, 1 effect, extra for power] Extending if necessary
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4) [WP]

[Red Right Hand] John: Shot +1 -3
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Red Right Hand] BOOM HEADSHOT?
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] Shot +2 -4
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Red Right Hand] BOOM HEADSHOT AGAIN?
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] Shot +3 -5; Drone 2
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]

[Red Right Hand] This guy is just way too cool
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Dex+Ath]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 5 (Failure at target 8) [WP]

[Emily Littleton] [Dex + Ath: dif 8, -1 active corr rote, +2 bitch of a nephandus' rote. HAIL KAHSEENO?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7, 9 (Failure at target 9)

[Emily Littleton] [Firearms: Same stupid-nephandus dif. This time with WP! GO EM GO!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 9) [WP]

[Emily Littleton] [Damage: base 4, no extra successes]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] Drone 2: Shoot John
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] [Damage?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] John: Fuck you, I got Forces shielding
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] Declares again:
After taking a hit, the drone dives further back in and attempts to shoot John again

Shoot John

[Emily Littleton] 1a. Throw grenade
1b. Shoot nephandus, yo

[Red Right Hand] John:
Shoot Drone thrice, switch to Nephandus if he dies

[Atlas Mason] [1a Toss Grenade]

[Red Right Hand] Nephandus: Emily, rote, again. Different rote

[Red Right Hand] [Unholy Stroke, Prime 2, coincidental, diff 5 (-1 Resonance, -1 practiced); 2 suxx needed, rest for damage; -1 Quint] Extending as necessary
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 7 (Success x 3 at target 3) [WP]

[Red Right Hand] Shoot +1 -3
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] Die, Drone, die?
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] Again, +2 -4
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Red Right Hand] Last, -5
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]

[Red Right Hand] Dieee!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Dex+ath]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 6, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Emily Littleton] [Countermagic: Prime! +WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Emily Littleton] 1. Countermagic

[Atlas Mason] [Shoot nephandi 3 times]

[Red Right Hand] John: Same as Atlas

Nephandi: Extending rote

[Red Right Hand] [Extended] diff 4
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Red Right Hand] John: +1 -3
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Red Right Hand] Damage
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Red Right Hand] 2
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 6 (Failure at target 8)

[Red Right Hand] 3
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]

[Red Right Hand] Damage
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Dex+Firearms]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Atlas Mason] [Dex+Firearms]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Emily Littleton] [Countermagic: Prime]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Red Right Hand] Extending again
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Red Right Hand] I'm lazy, John shooting
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 8) [WP]

[Red Right Hand] Dropped 'im?
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] [Countermagic: Prime]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Red Right Hand] And fade! They were lost in the Labyrinth for at least a few more hours

[Emily Littleton] [Life 2: Mending self, plus Quint for Agg, dif 6, -1 going slowly]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Emily] [Life 2: extension +1 dif, -1 going slowly, -1 applicable resonance, quint to heal agg]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 5 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Emily] Wound Tally: 2A after self-heal.

[Emily] [Paradox: Hold it or roll it?]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Emily] [Paradox: 4 dice, rolling]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily] [Teleporting Dox: 4 dice]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily] [Soak? Oh please oh please?]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily] Wound Tally: 2A/2B, Wounded (-2 dice)