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Calvin Nash	I wish I were contacting you under better circumstances, begins an urgent communique to the Paladins from Director Mintahoyo Moore of the Southeast Assembly Demon Marshals. The Canaanites' newly appointed ambassador Thoth was set to take a tour of the Assembly ahead of some trade negotiations, under escort from a detachment of Demon Marshals. The idea was that a nice gesture and a small win would go towards mending fences from a tragedy we call the Choke ten years back.     At the time of this writing, Thoth and his party are two hours late. We've heard nothing from him or from his escort. Before you assume I'm overreacting, you should understand that Thoth is never, ever late, and we train our people better than to expect they wouldn't communicate something like this. I'm smoothing things over with Canaan and the Assembly the best I possibly can. I need you here and looking quickly--the longer we go without answers the more the louder and less reasonable voices will prevail.      Thoth took a special interest in the Guidestones in Elbert County and wanted to make a stop there. I'd like you to meet Marshal Nash there as soon as possible and start retracing Thoth's path back to the embassy in Mississippi. I've already dispatched him, so you won't be able to catch a ride with him. He'll be accompanied by one of Canaan's Millennium Templars, but I don't have any information on who they're sending at the time of this message.     I've included some directions to the Guidestones. There's no nearby Terminal or Warpgate. The landmark itself is fairly safe, but the areas around aren't settled. Don't travel alone if you can avoid it.      Reaching the Guidestones is a matter of time and patience. On a non-apocalyptic world, getting there at highway speeds from Ossabaw's inland sister city would be a matter of four hours. Here, with the roads in disrepair and often fraught with obstacles (be they downed and rotted power poles, cars or fallen trees) it's significantly longer. Director Moore's instructions thankfully include a map and some recommendations for work arounds.
Calvin Nash	Taking the ruined combination of interstate, US highway and necessarily the backroads through abandoned communities is best done in groups, owing not only to the persistent sensation of being watched, but to the general state of decay that's set in outside of lived-in places. Old water and gas lines which burst long ago create dangerously deep ruts and uneven roads in the slowly collapsing small towns along the way. Overpasses bare rebar like compound fractures and back roads which Director More suggested are often overgrown, with only occasional signs of someone's passing in the form of still-flattened grasses and weeds, and that someone very likely having been Calvin in his truck. Encounters with demons, particularly of the Beast (mythological animals) and Wilder (cryptids) classes are just as likely as with wild animals in those overgrown places.     Without a means of instant travel like teleportation, it's a mildly dangerous affair of six hours or so.     However you arrive, you'll do so at what was once called 'the American Stonehenge,' likely in the early evening. A dilapidated barbed wire fence encircles a grass field. Calvin's truck is parked nearby, and a white unicorn grazes idly a few feet away from it. The stones themselves tower over the two other people here, and probably most of you--there are four rectangular columns flanking a central stone, plus a capstone, all of which rest on a support stone lying flat on the ground. Two terracotta soldiers, painted and glazed, stand guard near the monument while Calvin converses with a tall, brown-haired woman in what appears to be ring mail and a white tabard bearing a blue cross.     It's not difficult to imagine that the smallest of these stones, the one supporting the others, would be two tons. The others are likely far heavier. A few feet away from the support stone is a tablet, also made of the same treated granite, providing various facts about the size, weight, function and age of the stones. 'Let these be the guidestones to an Age of Reason,' so said the anonymous sponsors, some sixty years ago. There's mention of a time capsule, but no date provided on its burial or when it should be exhumed.      The stones themselves are inscribed with eight modern Earth languages, one to a face, listed out on the informational tablet for the benefit of the unfamiliar: English, Spanish, Swahili, Hindi, Hebrew, Arabic, Chinese and Russian. The edges additionally have writings in Babylonian cuneiform, classical Greek, Sanskrit and ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. The inscription reads, regardless of language:
Calvin Nash	BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVTlNkAxlYU Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature. Guide reproduction wisely improving fitness and diversity. Unite humanity with a living new language. Rule passion faith tradition and all things with tempered reason. Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts. Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court. Avoid petty laws and useless officials. Balance personal rights with social duties. Prize truth beauty love seeking harmony with the infinite. Be not a cancer on the Earth Leave room for nature Leave room for nature.
Futaba Nuki	A scheduled tour, a missing ambassador, and unreasonable screaming. That sort of situation isn't wholly unfamiliar to Futaba, although she still manages to sound a little surprised when she receives the message from the Director. Tracking down missing people happens to be something she's actually okay at, though, and she arrives bright and early to start heading towards the Guidestones. Dressed in her 'traditional' red ninja garb, Futaba waits at the Warpgate to see who else responds to the call. Sadly, there's no Calvin to wait for based on the communique, but she's still patient and even takes care not to turn into something gross before everyone arrives. She also takes care not to turn into something gross once everyone arrives. That's not to say she doesn't transform at all, though, since the six hour trip is most certainly going to be a trek for some people! That's why, just before departure, Futaba turns into an oversized horse with a flaming red mane, ready to seat any and all passengers on the black and gold saddle that looks like it came straight out of a video game. "All aboard, folks! Keep your hands and legs on the reins-wait, no, just your hands-and get comfortable for the long ride! O' course, if we do run into any trouble I can't ram through, I'll be countin' on you to bust some skulls." She calls out, laughing once without realizing she forgot to add any reins to her horse transformation. She still has that really long red scarf, at least. Futaba's pretty careful not to jostle her passengers too much on the way there, thankfully, even if she does go a little fast for the first third or so. Upon reaching the destination and spotting Calvin's truck, Futaba picks up the pace a bit to get everyone over to where Calvin's talking with the armored woman. "Hey there, Mister Nash! Hey, Templar ma'am! Hope we're not super late, all things considered." Futaba greets them with a brief tap of a hoof on the ground below. "What do we have here...?" She murmurs aloud as she approaches those stones, squinting at the Chinese writing for a minute before unsubtly shifting over to the English side and sounding out the words under her breath. "So. You think these guidelines have anything to do with where our missing ambassador went?"
Meresankh	Meresankh arrives through the warpgate alone, and with as little fanfare as she can stomach. This is a reconnaisance mission, not a show of force. She sets out at once, floating at running pace to the edge of the Ossabaw Island settlement out of courtesy before her cloak swirls around her, leaving only twinkling sparks behind. She reappears several hundred yards downroad, only to blink out again, and again, teleporting along the highway in short but rapid jaunts. Her objective, rather than avoid the hazards on the road, is to simply not be in any one place long enough for anything to grab her. With the route plugged into her dimensional navigator, she doesn't need to pay active attention to the route, like an extremely high-tech form of cruise control.     On arrival at the Guidestones, Meresankh looks up at the stones first, impressed by this scale of architecture. Although she wasn't paying much attention while en route she did noticed a lack of stone architecture on the way. The locals here favored brick, and there had clearly been gaps where wooden structures once stood, now burned or rotted to their foundations. This construction must be special... but a quick scan reveals nothing of the technological about it. Solid stone through and through. A monument, then, and not a utilitarian structure.     Only after a long moment does she turn her attention to the living beings present, and begins to approach them - then she halts, as if suddenly remembering something, and flourishes her cloak to one side. A metallic figure who wasn't there a moment ago tumbles out of the cloak onto the ground, then quickly stands and dusts itself off. Henutep, Meresankh's golden-armored royal warden, immediately grumbles in complaint. "Your Ingenuity, was that truly necessary? You know how I feel about prolonged non-dimensional existence."     "It was," Meresankh replies coolly. "A crewed ark would have let me bring a full retinue, but would have to contend with the local demons en route. Now, I must speak with the locals. Search the area, ensure its security from unsanctioned interlopers and note any unusual finds."     'Unsanctioned' here meaning anyone other than Paladins, Canaanites, or Assembly personnel. As Henutep patrols the grounds, he passes the clay guardians and gives them a knowing look, one ever-watchful guardian to another. Meanwhile Meresankh retrieves another object from her cloak, a luminous shape of nested cubes which immediately begins to rotate its internal geometry, minuscule threads of green energy threading out from the center as if probing for an escape. Its reactions to the environment, Meresankh expects, will cue her in to recent supernatural happenings in the area.     With the tesseract device floating in one palm-up hand, Meresankh walks across the grass to stand near the gathered figures. "Demon Marshal," she says with a nod. "I am here to assist." Then, to the Templar: "I am Queen Meresankh of Oryx, chevalier of the Paladins. My warden is searching the perimeter. What have you already found?"
Khosa	Khosa had wanted to see the Guidestones, but perhaps not in exactly this way. She'd sent a quick response back to Director Moore, mostly consisting of the fact that she was going. It's important to know that the message has been received, after all, and that someone is dealing with it. Getting to the location was a bit of a challenge. Previously, Khosa has hitched a ride with someone local who can drive (almost always Nash, though once she was in a different Marshal's car). At home, when she's travelling between towns, she sometimes goes with a caravan but more frequently rides a crodlu or a kank, depending on terrain and speed. Or walks. Neither is anywhere near as fast as a car is and so what would be a few hours for the locals wouldn't be for her. Fortunately, due to the power of teamwork, owning a Paladin radio, and asking nicely, she could run part of the way and get picked up by Futaba en route. She does not know how to ride a horse, or a horse-shaped person, but she manages - the saddle's not *that* different, and she has long legs, so 'oversized' does not bother her. But by the time they get to the Guidestones, Khosa is definitely ready to get of. She hops off, stretching for a moment before following Futaba up. "Thanks," she adds, as she does. Though Khosa detours slightly to look at the Guidestones when she sees Calvin is in conversation. Plus, there's someone she knows there. "Glad you made it up here," Khosa says to the terracotta soldier closest to her, remembering them from the vault. "Everything going on all right at the Guidestones? I did say I was going to come see them sometime." She does, in fact, take the time to do just that. "Huh," she says, squinting. "I didn't expect to recognize any of those, but that one," she points at the Babylonian one, "looks like what they use in Urik, and that one," at the Egyptian, "is a bit like some of the old Raamin noble's scripts." Turning aside from them, she finally moves to meet up with the others. "Marshal," she says, bringing herself up to a more precise, military stance - she guesses the Canaanite is military by her poise and equipment. At least she's been around long enough to not goggle at chain mail, though it does get an admiring look. "Templar," she finishes, remembering the title - though it means something very different to her. "I'm here to help solve the problem," Khosa says. "Missing emissaries are never good. Khosa, of the City-State of Tyr." She even adds a complex bow and hand gesture - it's the one for equals but it looks fancy enough. "I work with our Templars, though I don't think they're quite the same position even if the title's the same."
Petra Soroka	Petra Soroka is not a recepient of a letter sent to the Paladins, on account of not being a Paladin. In Petra's typical way, however, she has a complicated enough relationship with the Paladins to occasionally find herself surrounded by them, like she often did with the Concord before becoming a Partner herself. It's rarer, on account of having been arrested by the organization before, and not being a particularly good ideological match, considering her tendency towards supervillainy and violence in order to consolidate power around people she cares about, but the fact remains that she's typically pretty sympathetic to the Paladins when she's not actively attacking them.     She's a teeny bit smugly pleased with herself when Calvin specifically invites her to help. The uniqueness of being asked for by name is the sort of thing that briefly spikes up the dopamine reward of feeling useful and wanted, which is why she excuses herself from the Library after class (relaxing, but routine!) in order to take a long trek through the wasteland of the deep south of postapocalyptic America for several hours.     She doesn't have the luxury of *not* doing it alone, since she can't exactly coordinate a ride with anyone else. This is tragic for Petra, but not really because of the danger of traversing the distance from Ossabaw Island-- she just would rather not be *lonely* while doing it. The Beauty of Ash, on its own, can cut the travel time down from six hours plus, to less than two, while keeping a leisurely pace; frictionless telekinetic travel skating across the ground on all fours outpaces highway speeds even when cutting through areas of rubble and overgrown foliage, barely even disturbing the grass besides with small, shallow holes pierced into the ground by each loping step.     Petra passes the time by texting Audrey, mostly, bypassing the mental load of piloting her fingers simultaneously with her mech by texting via morphmetal instead. She also gets occasionally sidetracked by investigating some interesting collapsed house or getting into a staring competition with a demon when she intrudes into their territory, so despite her efficient mode of travel, she ends up getting there shortly after the others already have.     With the casual stance of a horse slowing down from a trot, the crystalline form of the Beauty of Ash bounds up to the Guidestones, and completes one lap pacing around them to burn off the remaining energy before coming to a stop. The mech is shorter than the Guidestones too, though only barely-- standing straight upright, if Petra got on its head, she would comfortable be able to clamber on top of the entire monument, a thought which *does* occur to her before recognizing that there are other people here.
Petra Soroka	With the sound of a crack echoing across a frozen lake, followed by the glittery clattering of a million pieces of glass shiftign around each other, the Beauty of Ash shatters as Petra drops down to the ground from its chest, pouring in a stream back into the compact mirror in her hand. She looks up at the Guidestones, and as a greeting, shares a Fun Petra Fact.     "Huh, I'd never heard of these before. There's actually another Stonehenge-like thing in the U.S., though, made of cars. I almost got murdered at it once."     She's a little disappointed to notice that she only knows one of the languages inscribed on the stones. *Audrey* would know nearly all of them, which makes her slightly grumpy because she wants to think that being trilingual is cool. She hooks her thumbs through the belt loops of her baggy jeans and turns away from the stones to go walk over to Calvin.     "I guess it's pretty cool to see what people's expectations of the future-- or, like, their demands for it-- were from before the bombings, actually. And the ways that stuff's lived up to it or failed to, in the aftermath. I get why someone would be interested in it, but do we have, uh, a track to follow?"
Dimokratia	An event of Marshals, potential malefactors, and the regional stability of an allied government meant that Director Moore's message of need to the Paladins found a host of eyes and awarenesses contemplating the directive and locational maps provided. Dimo and Kratia, the Champions of the Silver within Sector Zero, conspired across their mental links. > Another mission of mercy? > Please. Allied support is among the core tenants of our mission. > And you think it necessary to quote? > Merely to update your memory. Kratia pauses for a few cycles. > I'm not helping with your walk and talk. Comes, conveyed with the petulant skip of several dozen notes of annoyance and frustration that would not produce fruit. > Sweet sister, I know your passion is payload. The situation is delicate enough I will be bringing sufficient force - I require a tactical consult. > You require one? Then you will cite the sacred words at me. This time, it is Dimo that pauses for a few cycles, to divine the precise motion to end this battle as a victory. > 'Priority request'. > I was looking for 'please, oh gracious and powerful and beautiful superior model'. > When that appears in your logs please note it for me so I might also mark the time. 'Canaan', a location north of Jordan in ancient Earth. Also, a 'promised land' of the religions rooted in the prophet Abraham. 'Thoth', VIP target. Matched name to figure of mythology, divinity, cross reference 'Egyptian Sacred Beings', 'anthropomorphic animism'. Extraction of target was of diplomatic priority in contested zone. Believing that she had collated all the relevant data, Dimo of the Silver thus embarked on her mission. Launched into orbital glide, her shooting star approach from invisibly-overhead orbital vessel came with several more faster-moving stars. A '''still-operational''' police helicopter powered by a magnetite reaction and doing a flyover of a ruined civilian area near Georgia gets a brief turbulent distortion of flight systems before the Red Dog whirlybird is obliterated by a rod of raw metal around as thick as the tailrotor, already superheated from orbital friction along a precise path to meet the flying threat. The mass driven spike meets the helicopter like a pin might meet a butterfly at several times the speed of sound and deforms the vehicle, then the crater it lands in, then the open land around the strike zone for several dozen meters in each direction. The slower moving form of Dimo's shooting star loses its wreathing of atmospheric friction after sliding through the air barrier and shedding speed on approach, becoming more visible as a point of shining in the sky, and then blooming into a parachute-like umbra that emits a corona of thrust. In powered descent, the Champion glides overhead far lazier than her screaming orbital approach, 'parachute' collapsing into narrower and more elegantly waving wings before dropping into the crowd. An eight foot tall synthetic, built like a statue to a hero in ceramic composite white and carbon black and metals of matte and shining sorts. Through the almost-opaque carbon-black fill deeply intricate mechanical adjustments occur with her every motion, a clear statement to her presence and self: a seeing-the-insides through and through sophont. She has long filiment silver-white hair with perfect hang and part frames seamed face, carbon-black lips, and bright blue optics, and for about a meter radius around her she emits a softly pleasant hum and palpable warmth, a pair of long jellyfish trails like tails off of the base of her back in faintly reflective silver, and is wearing. . .
Dimokratia	The wrong outfit. Canaan. Thoth. Seeing-stones. Ancient near-east references! Dressed in a gold-under-white sarong belted in blue and red and green stones set about the waist, a set of draped gold wrappings and neckpieces in colors, and bands of similar color around wrist and bicep. The fall of her hair down her front serves to cover her '''bare''' chest, but... she's not a mammal, so it's just contoured shell. "Hmm." Dimo begins, gazing across the Templar (. . . a rival power within the Near Eastern divisions?) and then to Calvin. Past him is the Terracotta Soldiers, which to Dimo are as normal as the stones themselves, and... Oh thank the sacred proofs, there were people who she recognized. This mission could still go off flawlessly. "I appear to be in the correct location for the operation. However, I was under... several 'impressions'. Regardless:" There were several introductions, so Dimo places hand across collar. "I am Dimo, Champion of the Silver, and your request for assistance was received. It warms me to know that the Paladins can summon such help in their times of need," She speaks, and pans gaze towards Petra and the Beauty of Ash while she does.
Petra Soroka	"Hey there, Mister Nash! Hey, Templar ma'am! Hope we're not super late, all things considered."     Petra squints at the big Futaba-horse, but given that she was just running around in her mech on all fours in her mech and arching its back at demons in order to spook them off from attacking her, she should have no stones to throw here. However-- that is that and this is this. Petra can throw stones anyways.     At least she's gotten into the habit of checking for a leaf each time she sees some fucked up beast that's talking and hanging out like it's a person. Maybe one day this will lead to Petra doing something racially insensitive to a furry person, but for today that instinct steers her correctly. "Oh, it's you. Do you need to stay like that? Are you waiting for your cutie mark to come in?" "Search the area, ensure its security from unsanctioned interlopers and note any unusual finds."     UNSANCTIONED INTERLOPER SPOTTED!!! KILL HER NOW!!     Petra sees the Egyptian skeleton robot queen out of the corner of her eye, and even though she missed her introduction, she's still reasonably sure she knows who Meresankh is. After all, Audrey had talked about some other robot skeleton woman, and showed off a scarab from her, and it's pretty easy to draw conclusions from two very distinctive traits like that. However, if she's about to be turned into a pile of ash by visibly not being a Paladin, Canaanite, or Assembly personnel, she doesn't do anything to assuage that suspicion by introducing herself to Meresankh, because she's distracted by another Egyptian skeleton robot woman instead. "It warms me to know that the Paladins can summon such help in their times of need,"     Because her *tits are out*! Dimo might not be a mammal, but Petra mostly is!-- at least, she's second place for mammalness among those coming to help Calvin here, just losing to the horse. The fact that it's just shaped metal shell doesn't change anything! Dimo is still eight feet tall and Petra's eyes are at exactly boob height!     Petra blinks and tries to collect herself, and because of that particular fixation, fails to notice anything else that's weird about Dimo's outfit. Instead, she just tilts her face up to pointedly not be staring at her chest, and waggles her fingers in a little wave without unhooking her thumb from her belt loop. "Uh, hey, Dimo. Been a while."
Meresankh	As Henutep completes his circuit of the grounds, he perks up at the sight of Petra. Not because he's glad to see her specifically - he doesn't know who she is - but because he's glad to have found something to report to his queen. "Your Majesty! We have an interloper!"     Meresankh whirls, and regards Petra coldly with both mundane and special optics. Detecting a substantial quantity of morphmetal in the material scan of Petra's possessions, she jumps to a conclusion. "Leave her be," she says with a dismissive wave. "She belongs to Dimo."
Lilian Rook	'The Canaanites' newly appointed ambassador Thoth'     Lilian can't remember the last time she squinted at a message like that. The sentence is still rolling around in her head by the time she arrives, repeating as if she could tilt it just right and shake it loose. The absurdity of the rest of it-- and the fact that it'd blend right into her pre-Multiverse schedule despite that-- doesn't have a chance to breathe.     As is usual, 'long-distance rapid travel across a post-apocalyptic globe inhabited by monsters' is something that is literally Lilian's day job; not something casually done, but which she is so amply equipped for and practiced in that getting it done is nearly a formality. By the time she arrives at the point of interest, currently unarmoured and merely having thrown on a Paladins issue field jacket over her outdoors wear (achieving almost, but not believably, 'rugged'), but visibly kitted up in her carry, sword slung over her shoulder, she's in a mood to say something stupid like, "And here I was expecting the stones to be--." only mercifully unfinished for Petra talking about Carhenge first.     She stops to read the inscriptions in the couple of languages that she can, and then frowns, without explaining. "Please tell me this was here before nuclear winter." she says, probably to Calvin. "I hope it comes from a place of repugnant naïvete."     'Do you need to stay like that? Are you waiting for your cutie mark to come in?'     "I might kill you." Lilian blurts out, then unsuccessfully tries to play off as a cough. "Let's spend as little time fucking around as possible, shall we? We're already past the golden hour."     It's a direction so vague as to be useless. Lilian has no idea what other people do in terms of forensic bullshit. Her own approach is uncorking stuff from her bag and doing half-pretend hermeticism to Look Busy while actually just precognitively considering the ends of 'who the fuck is Thoth and how do I talk to him?' and retrocausally working back the means in her head.
Calvin Nash	"Hey there, Futaba." Calvin is glad to see her, but not glad to be here. Understandably so, given the urgency Director Moore implied. "Y'all, this is Knight-Captain Gladys Richards, Millennium Templars."     "Pleased to meet ya," says Richards. Like Calvin, she's got a southern US accent, but it's different from his and the ones you might've heard in Ossabaw Island, with more of a twang than the Georgian drawl. "Wish it was under different circumstances." Her handshake is strong where it's offered and accepted, her hands callused from hard work. The long ringmail shirt or the padded underlayer beneath it doesn't do much to hide the definition of her arms when she reaches forward. While Calvin has his shotgun in a sling over his back, she has a straight sword sheathed at her hip. Her hair is cut short, stopping just shy of her jawline. Her round face seems given to friendly smiles, but her brown eyes scan the perimeter with learned wariness, her hand never far from the well-used grip of her sword. A closed COMP bearing the same cross heraldry on the back of her monitor as her tabard is strapped over her left arm.     "Yep," Calvin helpfully adds to the conversation.     Calvin double-takes at Dimo's arrival. Knight-Captain Richards peers not-entirely disapprovingly before she averts her eyes.      "Dimo," Calvin says, both memorizing her name and greeting her by its repeating. He offers a firm handshake, looking up to make eye contact, and the gesture is mirrored by Knight-Captain Richards. "Marshal Calvin Nash. Let's hope our first time workin' together's as smooth as silk."     "Hear, hear," agrees Richards.     "I had Director Moore CC some of the more reliable Concord folks, so there might be a couple stragglers." Calvin explains to Dimo. He doesn't get along with Petra, but he can't disparage the quality of her work when it happens to be prosocial nor the reputation for when it doesn't. "But if there ain't, Petra's plenty." He leaves out the supervillain part due to present company.     Henutep on patrol finds the area to be undisturbed and unmonitored aside from the terracotta soldiers. There are no unsanctioned interlopers present, thankfully. Meresankh likewise finds that there's nothing supernaturally unusual about this area. Wherever Thoth and his escort ran into trouble, it wasn't here. Henutep does find tracks not belonging to Calvin's truck--four pairs, a few days old by now, leading from the grassy field onto the nearby Georgia state road 77. Putting two and two together, two pairs must be from the escort pulling up, and two returning to the road. Thoth's escort would've had two trucks, then. Please tell me this was here before nuclear winter. I hope it comes from a place of repugnant naïvete.      "1980, it says," Calvin replies, thumbing over his shoulder at the tablet a few feet away from the stones proper. "So, 'bout 14 years before. My mama says that's exactly what they was worried about. Guess they were right to be."
Calvin Nash	What have you already found?     "These two--"     "We done--"     Calvin and Richards speak up at the same time, then glance at each other.     "Go ahead--"     "You first--"     A moment of awkwardness passes, which Calvin bulldozes through by clearing his throat. "We done talked to the two guards over there," he says, thumbing in the direction of the terracotta soldiers. He flips open his COMP and reads from previously-taken notes. "Far as they could tell, Thoth and the Marshals with 'em were pretty relaxed."     "All things considered," adds Richards flatly.     "Sure," Calvin says. "They didn't see nobody else come or go. So unless somebody was real quiet followin' 'em, they prolly got jumped somewhere on the way back." who the fuck is Thoth and how do I talk to him?     Thoth is That Thoth. The Egyptian god, or at least a mass of emotional energy powerful enough to assume the form and shape of him, which is an onerous enough task that he's both the only such mass to have bothered and 'him' in all the ways that matter, a lot like Calvin's demon partner Chernobog, or at the lower end of things, Pabilsag before him. He is a respected figure not only in Canaan but abroad as well, for his even-handed attitude and his generosity with knowledge. Ultimately he does believe that humanity needs a strong authority figure to guide and correct it, which is why he's also a high ranking official within Canaan. Their project-slash-church, the Millennium Ministry, aims to create a utopia under the rule of YHVH (yes, that one). Thoth is in the inner circle of the angel Moroni, who is YHVH's general in the States. Suffice it to say, it would be very bad for the Assembly and for its relations with Canaan if Thoth were harmed, and it's already not great that he's missing.      As for how to talk to him, that would unfortunately require either knowing where he is or having something like a Marshal's radio that knows where another radio is. Having something that can *find out* where he is may be a promising avenue, and it's also fortunately one that both the Assembly and Canaan have thought of--and, troublingly, are having difficulty with. Scrying attempts for both are being occluded. This was probably premeditated.
Calvin Nash	You think these guidelines have anything to do with where our missing ambassador went?     "Thoth wanted to see them to understand the Assembly," says Richards. "He didn't have no particular agreement with 'em."     "Neither do we," says Calvin with blunt almost-defensiveness. "Ain't like we wandered up here and cribbed 'em for the Articles." They are pretty in line with what the Assembly believes, with the exception of the bits about maintaining a population cap or 'guiding reproduction,' which is probably where Calvin took exception to Richards' comment.     Richards blinks owlishly at Calvin, then discards the hostility. "Right, so, what I'm sayin' is I don't think there's a connection, really." Everything going on all right at the Guidestones?     The guards stand up extra straight for Khosa. "Reporting to Chevalier Khosa on the events of the Ambassador's visit!" Shouts the one on the left. Thankfully he doesn't shout his report. "The ambassador's visit proceeded without interruption. He perused the Egyptian stone, consulted his book, and checked the time using the clock stone. A short discussion about the Assembly's vision of the future ensued with his escort, with each of the four Marshals answering in turn. Thoth found their answers and the stones 'interesting,' and then he expressed his lament that humanity was incapable of an Age of Reason. Their party departed shortly after, also without incident."     "Reporting to Chevalier Khosa on the events since our arrival!" shouts the one on the right. "Upon arrival several months ago we found that a Nue had taken up residence and was gathering energy to beset the fields with storms. After a decisive battle, the Nue was dispatched. Since then we have maintained our post against occasional incursions from various Wilder and from Patriots, who believe the Guidestones to be variously Satanic or associated with a New World Order. They have been executed to the last for attempting to deface the Guidestones. No other events of note to report." I don't think they're quite the same position even if the title's the same.     "Maybe, maybe not," says Richards. "When times are good, we keep the Lord's law," she says. With a frown, "When they ain't, we're His soldiers."     Calvin crosses his arms. There's actually another Stonehenge-like thing in the U.S., though, made of cars.     "Really? Where at?" asks Calvin. "Damn, I wonder if it's here and still standin'." I get why someone would be interested in it, but do we have, uh, a track to follow?     "Yes ma'am," says Richards. "Director Moore gave us copies of--"     Calvin races to open his COMP and tap out a few commands. The in-built dot matrix printer spools out an itenerary for Petra, and for anyone else who wants one.     "--his itenerary," finishes Richards with a sigh that says she's beginning to see what's going on. "From here, he woulda got back on 77 and made back for Ossabaw, then visited the settlements on the way back to Mississippi."     "Which means they coulda run into trouble anywhere between here and there, on account of nobody in Ossabaw saw 'im," concludes Calvin. "So we got our work cut out for us, and all we got goin' on our favor is we know what roads they woulda took."
Calvin Nash	Let's spend as little time fucking around as possible, shall we?      "Took the words right outta my mouth. Bright side is," says Calvin, "Director Moore's got a dragnet goin'. It spread out behind y'all as you came up," he says. "So as we're headin' south on the lookout, either we'll find what happened or they will. Soon as y'all are ready, we'll get goin' southbound on 77, split up into teams and make our own. I count nine of us. So what we'll do is three groups of three. One south-by-southwest, one south along 77, one south-by-southeast, constant contact."      "I'll go with you, Marshal," says Richards.      "Yep," Calvin grunts. He doesn't sound thrilled. "Whoever's our third, let's get goin'. Burnin' daylight."
Khosa	Khosa takes a report like she was used to it - because she is, though admittedly not usually from terracotta soldiers. Regretfully, it doesn't sound like they're going to get much new information that way - what Thoth did sounds pretty normal to her, except maybe checking the book - she doesn't know Thoth's legends. "Thank you for your report," she says, professionally. She didn't take any notes, but she doesn't need to - her memory is perfect, especially when she tucks the mental impression in with that particular focus she uses. "Good work. I don't actually need to tell you, but keep an eye on things. I doubt you'll have any incursion worse than another nue or a Wilder or something while we're here, but just in case." She rises up herself: "It's good to see you made it here and settled in. I'll be back to get a proper look at these another time." Khosa recognizes more than half the people here, which is better than expected. Lilian she knows, and Futaba she knows (though admittedly she knows her better in not-a-horse forms); Meresankh she knows slightly, even if she is not exactly well-read on the other woman, though she doesn't know her assistant. Petra she knows but has been very deliberately... 'Ignoring' isn't quite the right word, but she's certainly not been giving her much attention either beyond a slight look when the Beauty of Ash arrives and shatters. Which, to be fair, is eye-catching. But Dimo she doesn't know, and she gives the artificial person - some sort of construct? a curious look-over. The outfit isn't the curious part because Khosa has seen people dressed like that before, though if Dimo looked more human there might be more admiration in that look; she's more interested in what she is than what she's wearing, and looks more serious than anything else. Eventually she gets a nod of greeting. "Hoping to be of some use," is what she says, in regards to the Paladins summoning help. "I've done missing-people work before... though usually it's rockier than this." Seriously, who put trees in the way? And the Templar she doesn't know, but she's fixing that. She will absolutely accept a handshake and she doesn't even try to strong-arm it (Khosa saves that for people she doesn't like). "Pleasure," she says. "I mean, except for the whole situation. Though that does sound a bit like the Templar's jobs. I work with the Templars at home, and I've got a similar job - travelling law enforcement. Mostly I'm the hands of Tyr that reach outside our world these days, though. Hopefully to make friends," she finishes, glancing down at the hand she just shook. Khosa considers the situation as it's explained to her. They made it this far, and weren't attacked here. "Or they were following - or waiting - but stayed away from the Guidestones," Khosa volunteers. "If they guessed Thoth wanted to see them they might have figured this was a good place to pick up his trail. There's a lot of routes you can take between Canaan to the Assembly and back, but if you knew the midpoint, there's a lot fewer to follow. So if they were, say, a little ways out, just off the road and somewhere where they could watch, or hear... They could see which route he was starting out on to go back." She pauses, because she needs to check the map again, and out more than just a few miles. But it's giving her a few ideas.
Futaba Nuki	Luckily for Khosa, knowledge of horse-riding isn't needed atop the horse-shaped Futaba! She's not about to buck anyone off her back, after all, and she's even got good shock absorption from the bumpier parts of the road thanks to her generally malleable transformations. "Oh, it's you. Do you need to stay like that? Are you waiting for your cutie mark to come in?" "I might kill you." Indeed, Futaba's got that leaf on, and it's probably the only splash of non-red and non-gold color on her at all while she's in that form. She holds up a front leg to wave at Petra, then tilts her head to indicate her confusion since she's not actually sure if she can express a raised eyebrow with a horse's head. "Yo, Petra! Nah, not really. Figured I'd give Khosa here a chance to get down first before.. Uh. A what mark?" She asks while splaying her legs out to make it easier for Khosa to get down and definitely not looking like a horse actually laying down to rest. She looks between Petra and Lilian a few times, having visible trouble comprehending what that bit's all about. Is it a bit? No, it has to be a reference to something they both know, but what? "That a good reference or a cursed one?" "There's actually another Stonehenge-like thing in the U.S., though, made of cars." "No kidding? Huh. I wonder if any of them're still working. Might have to take a peek over there some day and see if I can't get some ideas on how it's assembled and all..." Dimo's explosive parachute-esque arrival gets some hooting and hollering from Futaba at first upon seeing her coming down, but she quiets down quickly once she remembers that she probably shouldn't be cheering about cool explosions in proper company. Instead, Futaba finally transforms back into her regular orange-haired self in that red ninja garb, tapping two fingers to her forehead in greeting to the Silver. "Hey, Miss Dimo! You were expectin' something else, too, right?" She asks with a chuckle and looking her over slowly, snapping her fingers after a moment. "That's what I need..." Instead of elaborating on what she needs, though, Futaba instead notices Petra looking distracted. She follows her gaze back over to Dimo's contoured shell, then holds a few fingers over her mouth with a wide grin forming on her face. "... Heh." Futaba snickers, then turns her attention right back to the Templar like she wasn't just staring at Dimo, too. Hearing Meresankh introduce herself reminds the ninja that she has yet to do so herself, and she dips into a formal bow with her arm across her waist. "Futaba Nuki, ninja hero of Sotenbori, chevalier of the Paladins." Now that Futaba's got an actual hand, she accepts the handshake from Richards firmly, grinning all the while. "Pleased to meetcha, too, Knight-Captain. Same here, for real."
Futaba Nuki	After that moment of awkwardness and snickering again at the two, Futaba listens closely as Calvin starts things off for real. Looking over at the guards, Futaba purses her lips as Calvin narrows down when Thoth could have disappeared, then at Richards and Calvin both explaining the purpose of Thoth's visit here. "Sounds like a real diplomatic kinda mission, then. Understanding folks better, knowing what makes 'em tick, maybe get everyone into a less tense place with how things've been already..." Scrunching her face up briefly, Futaba runs a hand through her hair before straightening out her leaf. "Could've been someone who stood to gain a lot from everyone getting right back at each other's throats." A pause, for impact. "Or lose a lot from things getting better for anyone else." She clicks her tongue once in disapproval at someone who might not actually exist, and then Futaba's breath hitches briefly when the guards speak of a Nue. Once she realizes that it's probably a different Nue, though, she relaxes visibly, but not quite to the level she was at earlier. "The Patriots have been messing with you guys out here, too? Really don't know when to give it a rest." Rubbing her forehead lightly, Futaba dips into a low stance to do alternating leg stretches while Calvin lays out the plan involving Moore's dragnet. "Can't rule the Patriots out for this, but... Well, we'll see whoever it was sooner or later as long as we're thorough. I'll be a set of eyes in the sky, maybe catch a glimpse of our guys up high." Futaba glances down at her outfit for a moment, then sighs dramatically. "I'm not gonna get to look anything like a ninja today, huh?" She japes, then does an unnecessary backflip while transforming into an eagle (bald save for the leaf) to fly up high and start searching, her extra long scarf still trailing behind her neck to make it easier to spot her up high.
Dimokratia	The core difference between the Skeletal Robots is that one of them is Egyptian (themed) and the other is Egyptian (cosplay). The far more explicitly skeletal-bone style of the Necron has its own logic and display - bare metal and green glows, length and shape and naked joints. Meanwhile Dimo has a built out shape without the hanging negative space of a metal ribcage held up by the faint bend forward of a reinforced spine, such that one could not be mistaken for the bare structure of the other. Even However, the Egyptian iconography does no favors for Dimo, whose core difference between the Necron Queen beyond 'isn't rocking the naked spine look' is that Dimo has a face that moves and optics that blink and lips that move. The hesitance - the looks - are all things Dimo takes in stride and standing both. You don't get built like she did to meekly hide around or be less than bold. 'Your Majesty! We have an interloper!' "Ah, the humble loper." Dimo notes, in warmed humor at the situation while Petra gunbarrels her features in a new way. Not able to sense through the synaptic interference about Petra and the Beauty of Ash what particularly is on Petra's mind, the Silver's champion nevertheless gives Petra a long and slightly adjusting for highlight value look. Despite appearances, perhaps her local attire *was* correct! Truly pleasing, from an honest attempt's effort. 'Uh, hey, Dimo. Been a while.' "For you, it has. For me, I have shared in Emmy's regular joy at your shared company. We are not so separated by distance, that I become impermanent when I escape your gaze. Though, feel free to continue confirming my physical state." She offers out, noting Petra trying to collect herself and not quite following Why, still. She had ideas, but, this was the first time Petra had seemed so particularly . . . distressed! And she knew several of Petra's distressed expressions. 'She belongs to Dimo.' Meresankh notes something quite interesting, and Dimo's smile palpably broadens, the variance of her tone lengthening in an approximation of an 'ahh, hmmm' pause that waits for the connection of thought and truth. "Ah, Queen, if you would direct your attention to Petra's collaring," Dimo directs, a flow of chrome pooling in the base of her palm and extending a baton-length, narrowing at the end and forming a => arrowpoint at the tip to indicate the lily placed upon it. "This is not our sacred flower. That would be the lotus. Thank you for your attention." She notes, as if giving a lecture before schoolchildren or a City Council. The baton retracts as her hands shift to press together, steepled low to idle, and doesn't rest there for long. Quickly, introductions turns to handshaking and a bit of dipping to address Calvin and Gladys. Her grip has a precision to it that is both reactive and calculated, giving the force she gets with some sense-hesitance as her digits close around flesh - the faintest worry that she is much, much tougher than what she's interacting with, and finding that tactile data in real time to give out a fair greeting. "As long as you are confident in the quality of the work, Marshal, I have no comments about your asset calls. Let us all work to ensure this ends harmoniously." As for the plans about the operation. . . "It would seem to be of highest alignment to place myself, Futaba, and Petra on one wing, and Meresankh, her retainer, and Khosa on the other - preferably the rougher terrain, to take advantage of her skills and Meresankh's mobility. Lilian, Gladys, and Calvin can collectively take the center route in Calvin's conveyance, thus giving them the highest ability to cross the distance and intercept. The wing's ability to reposition and collapse are less at issue. Is this acceptable?"
Meresankh	"This is not our sacred flower. That would be the lotus. Thank you for your attention."     "I see. Her morphmetal supply caused me some confusion. To whom does she belong, then?" She's technically addressing Dimo, but is near enough for Petra to chime in on her own behalf if she wished.     Calvin proposes splitting into groups to cover more ground. Once Dimo proposes group compositions, Meresankh nods in agreement. Reaching into her cloak, she withdraws a pair of hamburger-sized scarab drones and hands one to each of Calvin and Dimo, presumed leaders of the other groups. "Carry these with you," she says. "I will be able to lend my insights on anything you show to it, and I can transport myself to your location in an emergency."     Once on the move, Mersankh takes to the air, floating above the ground but within easy earshot of Khosa and Henutep. In wooded areas she rises higher, pushing above the canopy to watch for distant movements or commotions. When significant obstacles present themselves, the queen teleports atop them to do a quick scan for hazards on the other side while Khosa finds a way over or around with Henutep.     Meresankh's focus is mostly on the road ahead, but Henutep proves chatty despite his surly exterior. "Your description of your role reminded me of my own position," he says. "This 'Tyr' you serve, they are your liege? Tell me about them. How long have you served?"
Petra Soroka	"For you, it has. For me, I have shared in Emmy's regular joy at your shared company."     "Ahah... yeah, I guess, for me it kind of... has, been a while. Feels like a lot of time has happened lately." This is true literally, for Petra, between Angela's memories and having to revert to the time curse when helping her out of the Library. More impactfully, it's true in the sense that the distance Petra feels from the Petra of the beginning of this year is wide enough to hardly see her as recognizable, and so 'only four months' is an unbelievable truth for her. Also, her object permanence isn't that good.     That thought is enough to solve Petra's mysterious distress by sobering her up, and it makes a more practical thought come to mind in its place. "Oh, actually, speaking of Emmy; maybe you could come over to Hydrochoeria sometime? I can bring Ange there now, and she had stuff she wanted to talk to you about." "She belongs to Dimo."     Petra's first look directly at the Necron Queen is one of complete indignation, both for being singled out as an invader and for the dismissal waving it away. She doesn't *know* that Meresankh scanned her for tech, and her mind doesn't jump to the morphmetal on her hip as an explanation-- it *seems* like it's just because Petra was saying *hi* to her!     "Fucking excuse me? What's your issue? I don't *belong* to every woman I *talk* to, thank you very much. I'm--" Coincidentally, Lilian shows up right as she's saying this, suddenly providing a visual match for the lily hanging off the collar around her neck. "--a lot more *discerning* than that."     She could pissily explain how thoroughly she does *not* belong to Dimo, actually, despite certain events in their history which could've resulted in the contrary, but Meresankh doesn't trigger that kind of sweaty defensiveness in her. Instead, she's bratty in a different way, folding her arms across her chest and raising her chin up slightly to pout defiantly at Meresankh.     "Meresankh," As greeting. "I've heard some about you. If you were *paying attention*, you would've heard of me too; enough to know not to say something stupid like that." "Ah, Queen, if you would direct your attention to Petra's collaring,"     And then Petra, five foot four inches, arms crossed and hackles raised, toughgirl scowl on her face, is gestured at by a looming woman with a pointer stick. She holds that stance for several seconds while slowly turning pink with her collar being pointed out, and then gasps and buries her face in her hands when Dimo concludes her lesson. "... Yeah. What she said." "I might kill you."     "Huh?! Whyy?!" In her shock, Petra practically whines at Lilian in a way completely inappropriate for the vibes of the mission, and the vibes she was attempting to give off before Lilian got here. Just, of all things, she didn't expect to be threatened with death for being a little mean and referencing a normal kids show. It's barely even demeaning, in her eyes! "I had Director Moore CC some of the more reliable Concord folks,"     Huhuhu. She's reliable. This immediately makes Petra posture shift back into the stance of trying to be cool again, rather than arguing about whether she deserves to be executed for talking about cutie marks.     To that end, she takes Richards' hand for a handshake, pretending like none of that nonsense happened. "I'm Petra, by the way; nice to meet you."
Petra Soroka	"We done talked to the two guards over there,"     "Oh, those guys hang out *here*..." Petra had assumed they were along with either Calvin or Richards, because she knows too many silly American roadside attractions to think any of them are monuments worth protecting. The idea that some terracotta soldiers would be guarding it on purpose... it's just because it's rocks, right? They have rock solidarity? Petra can't bear to say such a thing out loud, because she would be immediately mocked for it. "Their party departed shortly after, also without incident."     Petra crosses her arms and looks over at the soldier, trying to stay on topic for now. Bravely. "Right, so we're retracing steps from the last known position, not looking at the scene of the event. Makes sense. Actually," Petra turns to Calvin. "Are there any major territories or threats along the way? That might have extended over Thoth's route, for demons or whatever?" "When they ain't, we're His soldiers."     Petra hates that! "--his itenerary,"     "Thanks, Calvin," Petra says specifically to him rather than to Richards. Petra is not diplomatically sensitive in a traditional sense: she doesn't actually care at all about the tense relationship between these two political entities. She cares about the *people* she's interested in, and if Calvin's gonna be weird towards Richards, then Petra will do everything in her power to facilitate that.     Then, on driving: "It would seem to be of highest alignment to place myself, Futaba, and Petra on one wing, and Meresankh, her retainer, and Khosa on the other - preferably the rougher terrain, to take advantage of her skills and Meresankh's mobility."     Petra immediately opens her mouth to produce two objections. Firstly, she wants to ride with Lilian, for no tactical reason at all, and the real reason is transparently readable in the glance she automatically shoots in her direction the moment Dimo suggests that. The second is that, failing riding with Lilian, Petra is perfectly capable of flying alone in her mech, covering much more ground than any of the trucks. However, before she says either of those things, she generates the counter arguments of 1) Lilian will call you a loser if you do that, and you're still not in good enough reputational straits to take that safely right now and 2) I don't want to fly alone for another couple hours because that would be boring.     So eventually Petra's open mouth thoughtlessly produces a response that had a lot of mostly unrelated thought put into it. "Sure. I'm good with that arrangement."
Khosa	Khosa was not willing to be ridden like a horse. For one, she doesn't know how to turn into a horse. But more critically, she usually doesn't do complete changes. She takes on aspects of animals, sometimes their basic shape, but she rarely goes all the way across her entire body. Like right now; she's made some changes to her legs, though most of them aren't visible aside from a slight shift in proportions between leg and body, and maybe a bit of additional bulk. When she runs, though, it's at the speed of a gallop. She can't hit highway speeds, but she *can* make it a good thirty miles an hour at a steady pace, with a springy, bounding gait that occasionally turns into a jump to get over an obstacle or simply clear more distance. She tries to stay out of the thickest parts of trees. And she does it while carrying Henutep. His weight isn't much of a burden, even if it is awkward to carry someone human-sized in her arms for a long distance. The hardest part is looking around him so she can keep an eye out for trails and tracks or ambush points to investigate further. "Tyr isn't a person, it's a city," Khosa explains. "The Free City of Tyr - free because we don't have a sorcerer-king like the other city-states in the Tablelands. We do have a king, though: King Tithian, who used to be a Templar. He rules with a council instead of having absolute authority like the sorcerer-kings. In some of the city-states, you have to worship the sorcerer-king; Tyr was about half a step down from that. Even now it isn't perfect but it's a lot better than it used to be. As for me, I've been working for the Free City as long as it's been a Free City." A pause. "Two years," she clarifies. "Well, more than two, less than three."
Lilian Rook	'So, 'bout 14 years before. My mama says that's exactly what they was worried about. Guess they were right to be.'     "I'm not going to trust anything regarding the wisdom of people who say 'keep the population under five hundred million'." says Lilian. "As if that were the fucking problem. And 'lack of reason." she adds, rolling her eyes. "Those assholes dropped the bombs in the first place."     'Go ahead--'     'You first--'     This is the point at which Lilian finally looks away from her work and takes in the pair of goofballs properly. She'd sort of tuned out at the mention of 'templar', but now these two have a dynamic, and that means even Calvin is worth another look up and down. "You wouldn't happen to know who could 'jump' someone with a comprehensive set of infopower screening countermeasures, would you? That seems rather beyond the purview of petty highway robbery, so to speak. Not to mention that I doubt those people have any shortage of enemies."     Standing up and straightening out from her performative semi-fakery, Lilian replies "Satisfactory." to the strategy, followed by, "I see your people are dedicating considerable resources rather than simply relying on the first gaggle of Elites that take the bait, so--"     'She belongs to Dimo.'     'Ah, Queen, if you would direct your attention to Petra's collaring,'     Lilian sighs with such strain that it creaks. "--I'd like to organize based on operational efficiency rather than 'vibes'. That means--"     'Huh?! Whyy?!'     "Don't worry about it." Lilian interjects, in a strangely automatic switch between businesslike rundown and careless crooning tones, waving vaguely in Petra's direction. "--we need a sensory and mobility specialist per group, not concentrated at a spearhead. If Knight-Captain Richards doesn't posses considerably more reconaissance ability than Chevalier Nash, then I'm afraid I'll have to impose upon the both of you." she says. "Which conveniently lines up with Chevalier Dimo's tactical advisory, I suppose. But I really would like to know what assets the two of you are hoping to deploy other than two pairs of eyes and a four wheel drive."
Dimokratia	Dimo stands, shifting from her gaze-down and aside to Petra as some unknowable chemical reaction (writhing darkly, bratting regardless of target) heats up Petra's cheeks and she tolerates such for the purposes of examination. More amused as Petra buries her face in her hands, Dimo's shift away and lift of eyes to Templar and Marshal echo a question Petra asks a bit after, having considered it. It takes her about ten seconds. 'Are there any major territories or threats along the way? That might have extended over Thoth's route, for demons or whatever?' "Warriors! Greetings to you, and congratulations to your successful felling duty." Dimo warmly calls to the Terracotta Soldiers, whose duty is apparent to Dimo without needing to query their purpose vocally. They are, as she knows, built for service and their data was already filed into a report submitted in the past by Calvin. "You have travelled far to get here, I am aware! Beyond camps of the unaligned, are there places of import or knowledge that a personage such as Thoth might visit upon their path? Perhaps especially ones Thoth asked you of?" The Champion wonders aloud, considering from another angle in sequence to what questions had already been asked. Petra's mouthed-but-aborted objection gives Dimo more than enough opportunity to formulate her expression into a pure-shaped 'oh?', ready to work through her reasoning, which is warmly-triumphantly unneeded. 'Which conveniently lines up with Chevalier Dimo's tactical advisory, I suppose.' 'Sure. I'm good with that arrangement.' Accepting scarab with a curious grip and turning the drone over with a critical optic, a jeweler handed a gem to place under glass, Dimo taps a finger to one of the little pincer-claws, and smiles, and then sets the little scarab on the left side of her neck-and-shoulder drapery, letting the remote eye fit to her snugly. "Indeed. The wing groups all feature highly mobile members with different tracking skills - and each at least one aerial member. The only group without features our best information specialist - Dame Rook." Dimo tilts her head in indication to the 'tactical assessment' comment. "It would be difficult for a vehicle to cross 'two zones' to get to the centerpoint - so we will avoid that." With Meresankh, her retainer, and Khosa already aiming to leave and Calvin speaking to similar, Dimo backs up and shifts to Petra and Futaba. "If it has been some time, you feel, since we have worked together, I am glad you have found the harmony in this arrangement as well. As for Hydrochoeria - it would bring me great joy to speak to you and Angela there. She has shared with me some thoughts, but I had thought they reached a natural conclusion. It is... pleasant to know that situation has changed for her. She was one I was most interested in reaching, though her world..." Dimo's smile dims, from eyes to lipcorners. It's not her favorite. It's quite opposite, in fact. A world that hates machines, hates sophont intelligence, is one that she takes a rigorously sort of personal. Yet, the Paladins did not take kindly to the motions of forceful reformatting, and Dame Commander Rook engaged with her Association, so, there was little to be moved on. "I will meet you in the air, both of you -- I have some interest in seeing Petra launch, so do not mind me taking the support position in this: I would be happy to see both of your growth and new complexities."
Calvin Nash	Khosa's idea is a strong possibility, precisely for the reasons she laid out. The map Director Moore provided shows the intended route as being the shortest distance between settlements along the way back to Mississippi, cropped to show only the relevant portions. Even with that level of selective crop, roads spread out like arteries across the cross-section of Georgia. There are pockets of survivor communities across the country, descendants of the ten percent or so of Americans that survived the initial bombings, the fallout and the societal collapse which followed. It stands to reason that most of them would develop in some relation to the road network, be it particularly resilient one-horse towns or new creations wandering down those old arteries in search of greener pastures.      Not all of them are part of the Assembly, and even those that are won't necessarily share every opinion with their neighbor--the country is democratic, after all. Not to mention that Atlanta is a hotbed of demon activity. But whether the culprit is a disgruntled human or a demon with a fondness for kicking beehives, it still begs the question--how would they have known? The Assembly clearly took security seriously for this visit, and Thoth evidently has a reputation for punctuality such that even being an hour late is noteworthy. Did they know? Was it an attack of opportunity? *Could* it have been, to have worked against a senior demon and four veteran Marshals? Could've been someone who stood to gain a lot from everyone getting right back at each other's throats.     "That's what I'm afraid of," says Calvin, turning the ignition on the truck. The magnetite engine turns over with a V8 grumble and a high tech whine.     "No one stands to gain from that," says the unicorn.     "The people who do things like this don't tend to see it that way, Unicorn," sighs Richards. Can't rule the Patriots out for this, but...     "You can, and that's almost a sure thing," says Calvin. "Those peckerheads are dumber than a box of rocks. There ain't no way they'd be able to even get the information without callin' somebody a 'slur' and shootin' guns off twenty times on the way. They don't got the brains to organize somethin' like this. Plus they're trigger-happy like hell. Even if somebody put 'em up to it, the guards here woulda heard all the shootin', unless they did it a good ways away."     When Futaba takes off, Richards helpfully calls after her, "Honey," she says in the kind of gently pitying tone mothers and teachers use for children who don't understand the assignment, "Those eagles ain't actually bald! It's just a name. Oh, she can't hear me up there, can she."     "It'll be aight," says Calvin, from the window-down driver's seat of his pickup. He extends his right hand to take one of Meresankh's scarabs, then places it on the dashboard. "Thank you," he says. You wouldn't happen to know who could 'jump' someone with a comprehensive set of infopower screening countermeasures, would you?     "Somebody with the same, or who can hide from it," agrees Calvin. He supposes further: "Or somebody takin' orders from somebody that does one or the other."     "Who'd be giving the orders? Lucifuge Rofocale?" asks Richards.     "Doubt it, unless he's got friends in Georgia."     "Berith?"     "Same story," Calvin says impatiently and a little irritably. "Look. There's demons that could pull it off, sure. Hell, it could be Ongyo-ki. He's a damn sight closer than either of those two peckerheads, and he can mask his aura. But, Captain, we can recite the whole Goetia and compare compendiums any old time. Let's find them people first and name names later."
Calvin Nash	Are there any major territories or threats along the way? That might have extended over Thoth's route, for demons or whatever?     "Along the way? No," says Calvin. "Scattered shitheads hoping for an easy lunch, sure. Nothing a demon like Thoth and four Marshals can't handle. Closest demesne's Atlanta," he says, "Bad, bad news. But that's prolly another three hours west from here, minimum. If somethin' came from out that way, it'd have to be on purpose." His frown says he hopes that isn't what happened, but that he's entertained the possibility. Especially with the earlier mention of Ongyo-ki. If Knight-Captain Richards doesn't posses considerably more reconaissance ability than Chevalier Nash, then I'm afraid I'll have to impose upon the both of you.     "Okay," Calvin says, using the word both to banish the spiral of thoughts the earlier possibility invites and to agree with Lilian. "Petra, Futaba, Dimo, y'all're South-Southwest. Meresankh, Henutep, Khosa, y'all're South-Southeast. Meresankh's little bug critters'll keep us from havin' to worry too much 'bout keepin' contact up, but don't get careless. Let's go."
Calvin Nash	But I really would like to know what assets the two of you are hoping to deploy other than two pairs of eyes and a four wheel drive.     "I can keep you in the fight if there's gonna be one," says Richards from Unicorn. "Same for Unicorn here. I've also got a charm on me that should go off once Thoth is nearby."     "Knowledge," says Calvin, patting his COMP. "I know these roads, I know the Marshals and I know demons." He doesn't feel the need to elaborate on that second part after the back and forth he had with Richards.      It's slow going. The idea is to cover ground as part of a search, not *necessarily* to beat a clock, so it kind of has to be. The first six miles down are dilapidated, overgrown country houses full of mold and nesting animals. Occasionally, Beast or Wilder demons startled by your presence either fight or fly. The rural environment here has a lot of tree cover, which seems like prime spots to launch an ambush. None of the land-bound searchers find anything to suggest that would have happened.      By the time it starts to get dark, you've reached a fork in the road, just inside the abandoned towen of Elberton. Southwest heads further down 77, through the town, along the route the itenerary lays out. Southeast branches out into 72 and 17, one being irrelevant and another being a more direct but less safe route to Ossabaw.      The roads here are in better condition, which is likely why it was marked out on the itenerary. The SOUTHWEST team (Petra, Futaba, Dimo) at this point see the return of a lot of tree cover on that side of town. The SOUTHEAST team (Meresankh, Henutep, Khosa) find the more developed side of town is host to a suburb and a school, with some overgrown forestation that might once have been a deliberately preserved patch of trees for noise reduction and aesthetics. SOUTH, meanwhile (Lilian, Calvin, Richards) find that, at the fork in the road, looking directly south, there's an overgrown lot full of old oaks that might once have been someone's home.      It's at this point that the fliers among you notice something--a faint flickering glimpsed in flashes between the trees, like the glow of a phone to the SOUTHEAST. Tree trunks, too, variously bent and stripped around that faint little light in the dark. Trampled leaf litter and grass, to the SOUTHWEST. And Lilian, riding with Calvin, detects the faint but unmistakable sensation of a lot of energy expended suddenly and violently, hours ago. This is where it would have happened. The only question is if there are any survivors.
Meresankh	Khosa explains the governance of Tyr. Henutep seems surprised by some of the notions presented - a monarchy less than absolute on one hand, and monarchs who masquerade as gods on the other. "Why do they demand worship?" he asks. "Is it not enough that they possess the right to the throne? Or are they pretender-kings, using religion to convince the people they each ought to rule?" A pause, to contemplate Khosa's term of service. "Two years is not a long time, but it is an honor to serve something from its founding. Before we became metal our lifespans were short. Many generations stand between me and the Necrontyr's first rise to the stars."     Meresankh, spying the lights in the woods, first activates her radio to alert the other searchers about the point of interest. Then, dimming her 'running lights' as best she can, she moves in above the trees, scanning ahead and below for energy signatures. Even if she can't make much sense of demonic power, she can at least know if it's *there* - and if the light is technological in origin she'll know everything about it well before she arrives to the site.     Meanwhile on the ground, Henutep is lowered from Khosa's arms - where he'd actually been getting somewhat comfortable, such as 'comfort' even exists for a robot skeleton. He does not need to stretch any muscles, but on returning to his feet he makes a sound as if doing so (while standing utterly motionless). Then he checks the condition of his twin-barreled energy rifle - no worse for all the bouncing around - and marches forward into the woods, paying especial attention to signs that he and Khosa might be followed or watched from behind or the sides.
Futaba Nuki	"The people who do things like this don't tend to see it that way, Unicorn," "Ain't that the truth. Kind of reminds me of..." Futaba starts to reply to Calvin, Richards, and the Unicorn. She stops briefly to linger on Richards for a moment, then goes right to assuming she'll be cool with it. "... Those Metal Priests back home. Y'know, the sorta folks that'll hope things really boil over just so there's an excuse to throw down, and not in the fun way." "Those peckerheads are dumber than a box of rocks." She starts to open her mouth to say something about that, then pauses to recall what she's seen of the Patriots thus far. It takes her about two seconds before giving Calvin one of those tilted nods. "Hm.. Yeah, point taken. The day they get someone smart enough to pull something like this off is the day they get absorbed by some bigger group." Another pause, and then she groans. "Ugh. That'd be even worse." "This is not our sacred flower. That would be the lotus." "To whom does she belong, then?" Futaba keeps her mouth shut, although she does wander a little closer to Petra while the latter is busy covering her face. She reaches over to give Petra a light pat on the shoulder, even nodding slowly if she looks at Futaba at that moment, then settles back while Dimo starts laying out who should go where. "It would seem to be of highest alignment to place myself, Futaba, and Petra on one wing," "Sure. I'm good with that arrangement." "Sounds like we're all on the same page, then. I'm good with that." Futaba declares, wholly oblivious to Petra's internal argument and wholly in agreement with Dimo's assessment of who should go where. "Like Commmander Lilian said, it'll help split up our recon abilties, and i'll gigve everyone a chance to show off a bit. Plus..." Futaba can't hide the easygoing grin on her face growing just a bit wider. "Really has been a while since we've done anything together, huh? Good chance for us to really sync up again!" Pumping a wing, Futaba raises an eyebrow as Dimo starts speaking about Angela. "Oh yeah. I heard some stuff here and there about... That." She starts, then stops with an uncertain look on her eagle face. Some of the bits and pieces she's heard did involve who was fighting who, but it's not as though she disliked Angela. Futaba's certainly glad Angela is less trapped than before, but there had to be some important reason for Lilian to oppose it, right?
Futaba Nuki	"Those eagles ain't actually bald! It's just a name." Despite everything, Futaba did actually hear Richards! It's kind of hard to tell from that distance, but Futaba does actually start reshaping her eagle-head once she snaps out of that confused funk. Now she just looks like a regular brown eagle with an extremely wide wingspan and a green leaf on her head. "I would be happy to see both of your growth and new complexities." "Aye aye, Miss Dimo! Looks like we're heading... South-southwest? Yeah.. That's, like, six-thirty o' clock? Seven-ish." Futaba starts, clearing her throat once to make sure she comes through the radio clearly instead of talking entirely in her usual tone. It's almost like she's taking this seriously. She keeps her eyes peeled as she scours the wooded areas from up high, turning her wings into an even more gliding-friendly shape to avoid flapping them unnecessarily or creating more visual clutter for Dimo and Petra to pay attention to. "Plenty of tree cover below. No movements yet... Oh. Pack of demons moving westwards, away from South team." "Some fliers moving in towards South-Soutwest team from five o' clock, looks like we can swerve past them. Or do we want to engage?" What has Futaba on greater alert, though, is seeing those faint lights between those messed up tree trunks and trampled ground. "Miss Dimo, Petra. You see all that down there? The lights flickering, six o'clock, dark spots. That might be our guy, or the escort. Ready to drop in fast, unless you want to scope it out more." Futaba suggests while shrinking her overall profile down, looking ready to descend rapidly at a moment's notice. She even has her sheathed katana held in her talons as she glides along, although it doesn't look like she ever took it out of her pouch or anything. It just sort of showed up there abruptly.
Khosa	Khosa slows down once they're a little bit away from the Guidestones, half to take a better look and half because of the terrain. There's a lot of places to ambush *from*, and it's not the environment Khosa is used to spotting ambushes in. The environments in Athas are more varied than you might expect, but the Tablelands region is not so lush as this; she's used to rocks, valleys, ruins, and dunes being the obstacles, rather than a thousand trees. "I was working for the not-free City of Tyr before that," Khosa explains as they go, "but circumstances were pretty different. I didn't have the role I have now. As for why they demand worship... some people think it empowered them. They could grant powers to their faithful. Spells. Where they got the energy, I don't know. But they'd ruled for so long, been so powerful for so long, I think they really did think they were something like a god. It's not like we have any other kind. We don't have priests the way some places seem to; they worship the elemental powers, if anyone." It starts to get dark. This doesn't actually stop Khosa at all; muls can see in the dark well enough that moonlight is fine, so twilight definitely is visible enough, and if that fails she has infravision: thermal sight by another name. She has also been adjusting her senses as she goes; sharper ears, scent. Tremorsense isn't so useful when she's at a bounding run, so she doesn't bother with that, and the only eye shift she can do and keep her night vision is only about as effective as decent binoculars. Less physically, she's alert to psychic phenomena, though as it doesn't pick up magic it's less useful here. Still, demons are psychic collections of emotional energy, so she might get a few seconds warning if someone tries summoning one. But Meresankh spotted the lights. Khosa lowers Henutep down and takes a moment to stretch - he may not need to but she does. Without need for words she gestures - she's going in, Henutep can hold the rear as he said - and then begins to creep toward the light. She shifts her eyes again, to guide herself by the light, and takes a deep breath through her nose, scenting like a dog (well, she doesn't think of it as like a dog, but it's about that level of precision). Khosa is not the stealthiest member of the team, but she can keep to the darkness where she can see and other people hopefully can't, and move slowly and carefully. She wouldn't try this approach in the light, but in the dark she has a decent chance of being able to get close enough to identify what's going on and whether it's a threat or not. Meresankh thinks it's a distress beacon, but Khosa isn't sure; it could be anything from a traveller not trying to attract too much wildlife to the distress beacon she thinks it is to bait, and she'll be suspicious until she gets a better look.
Petra Soroka	> She reaches over to give Petra a light pat on the shoulder,     Petra immediately lifts her face up from her hands and shoots Futaba a very pointed glare that clearly communicates 'Don't fucking do that'. "I'm not going to trust anything regarding the wisdom of people who say 'keep the population under five hundred million'."     This makes Petra think. Worlds where the population is under five hundred million: Lilian's world. Io, Rita's world, Elibe (presumably). Worlds where the population is over five hundred million: the City. Hm. "Don't worry about it."     "Okay!" Yay! Petra is satisfied completely by that, and can get back to tactical discussion and immediately forget about the threat to her life. "Let's find them people first and name names later."     Petra is not as educated on mythology as she'd like to be, and even if she was, the demons from this world are all a bit different, since they're acting on people. So she can't try to imagine any conclusions like Richards is, or prepare for any of the possibilities, which is convenient, because in trying to come up with a way to contribute her thoughts anyways, she ends up with one that's actually useful.     "Well, there's a bunch of demons that *could* do it, but we don't need to be *worried* about all of them. Like you said, we have to find them first, so... among the demons who would have the set of skills to ambush Thoth, are there any with particularly annoying ways of hiding themselves? Large scale invisibility, or mirage type stuff, or fucked up mind control labyrinths?" "Petra, Futaba, Dimo, y'all're South-Southwest."     Petra flashes Calvin a lazy thumbs-up. "Got it, dude." "I will meet you in the air, both of you -- I have some interest in seeing Petra launch, so do not mind me taking the support position in this:"     Petra then has to weigh her options for being bratty about being voyeuristically asked to perform, and being smug and showy about being voyeuristically asked to perform. With Dimo, the instinct to turn away and say 'no' always bubbles up first in her mind, but through constant vigilance and a subjective one million year long time loop, Petra has worked on better navigating the thoughts that scatter in her mind. And, then, the last time she saw Dimo was at the party in her now-destroyed apartment, where she showed off the Beauty of Ash to people for the first time, whole.     And so, she *has* to be showy, actually.     Petra pulls out her compact mirror (now adorned with several stickers!) and holds it up to her chest like a transformation greeble. She looks over to Dimo, fiddling with it for a second. "... 'Interest'? I guess you haven't seen the Beauty of Ash really *move* before, so... yeah, alright. Lemme show you."     Petra flips open the mirror and presses her thumb to it, cracking the glass between her hand and its reflection. In a reverse of how it folded into itself to store away, the broken glass blooms out of itself in an exponentially expanding geyser, each shard breaking into twice more and folding out and around each other, until they click into place like a jigsaw puzzle in the form of the Beauty of Ash around Petra. The mech starts on all fours, front legs splayed down like a dog getting ready to play, and then rises up to stand, half-again as tall as Dimo and still somehow not feeling much taller. Even though it obviously has weight to it comparable to the rocks from the Guidestones, each of its motions are light and precise like a hummingbird's, and when it pushes off the ground, the telekinetic propulsion is nearly silent and barely rustles the grass around its legs.
Petra Soroka	The Beauty of Ash spirals around a few times once it reaches a level height with the other two, comfortably barrel-rolling before settling into an upright stance in the air with one knee cocked and the other extended. During the few hours of searching, she can't actually *talk* through the mech, so all of the banter for that time is done via telepathic broadcast patterned off of Lilian's, with a faint echo of skin-crawling fiberglass warmth that comes along with it. "She was one I was most interested in reaching, though her world..."     <Her world sucks so fucking bad, dude.> Once she's done showing off, Petra gets right back to grousing with Dimo, knowing exactly the topic she's complaining about. <I've been working on it, but it's fucking rude. I don't even really know what their problem is. They're fine with people who are entirely constructed out of cybernetic parts, as long as you can't be *fooled* by how they look, which is, like, the *worst* way it could be. Pervert freaks. At least I can take Ange out of there now.> "Really has been a while since we've done anything together, huh?"     <... How well *do* you two know each other, actually?> Petra isn't jealous. She's just noticed some certain things, and never had a chance to ask. She just figures she has a right to be told about these things, between two Paladins-- isn't there someone you forgot to ask?     Petra isn't actually a great aerial scout. At least, not compared to either Futaba or Dimo, since her eyesight is much more limited, to the point that she *can't* actually see a single phone light in the forest unless she's flying relatively low down. And she can do that pretty well, effortlessly veering around treetops without slowing down, or coming to an instant stop in the air when Futaba calls out a sighting, and so on, but she can't match either of the others in terms of height if she wants to be useful for seeing anything. This means narrowing the field of her vision comparatively, but it also means she gets a chance to peek into collapsed buildings while flying by, occasionally dipping down a leg to skim a gouge into a concrete roof idly like it's her finger into a lake surface.
Lilian Rook	Lilian is, for a moment, pretty distracted by the unicorn talking. She spends idle thought cycles on whether it'd blacken and turn to ash if she tries to touch it, or something. She's caught between rotations when the Patriots come up, and half-attentively, Lilian says out loud, "Sounds like someone I know." followed by a narrow-eyed glance at Petra and the words "Why do I get the feeling you're contemplating something very stupid?" before reacquiring her filter.     'Somebody with the same, or who can hide from it'     "So no names? Specifics?" she asks, eyebrow up but audibly almost rhetorical. "It seems like such a specific skillset that it'd be an instant fingerprint for one group or another. I gather that seers and the like are common enough here that any would-be attacker would have no choice but to consider them as an obstacle, but it's not as if we're dealing with one particularly ambitious loose cannon; or at least we shouldn't be, if those marshals are worth anything." she says, narrowly avoiding 'were'.     'If somethin' came from out that way, it'd have to be on purpose.'     Brushing back her hair from her shoulder, Lilian gives Calvin a Look.     'I've also got a charm on me that should go off once Thoth is nearby.'     "I'd like to hope that would work, but without knowing any particulars, if his location is already being obscured by magic, it might affect that as well." says Lilian, still going on to ask anyways, "How close is 'nearby'?" with nothing to say (out loud) on the subject of Unicorn. "And I really do hate to ask this, you understand, but would it react to a body?"     Riding with Calvin isn't particularly her idea of a good time. The last time that happened, it'd been Madeleine's van, and she'd been subject to one of the more embarrassingly uncomfortable Elite moments she'd seen from the back seat. For the sake of a missing diplomatic persons case, she can tolerate it, but her preference is the truck bed punctuated by rapid liftoffs and touchdowns, and not a spare seat. She makes the potential mistake of asking the two, once, about what sort of neighbourhood this originally once was, and how so few people manage to be so many groups compacted so greatly despite so much open space. A town apocalyptic from disrepair is, she comments vaguely, outside her eclectic realm of familiarity.     As far as forensics go, she can't do anything but touch back down and motion for the truck to stop once she happens upon the equivalent of bullet holes and broken glass. Opening the cabin to talk inside, rather than use her radio, Lilian gestures to the spot, and suggests an armed dismount, with the transportation left at enough distance to be out of harm's way (despite the theoretical risk of carjacking involved). When she does herself, she transitions her sword's fastening from her shoulder to her waist, and leaves one hand on it when she goes scouting the ground, attempting to focus on the layout of the residue while it's still intense, and see which direction she tapers off; still having enough faith in the competence of the escort to assume that their perimeter would collapse in stages, rather than all of them being one-sidedly overwhelmed all at once, Lilian expects to get a direction from a fighting retreat, or a marshal driven into a corner.     Her reasoning slash morale boosting for Calvin and Richards is that this is so much effort to go through already that a massacre is simply too low-hanging of a fruit to do it in service of; if someone wanted to be this sneaky about it, it should hopefully be about something someone would have to keep hidden for a while; like an abduction, yay!
Calvin Nash	What sort of neighborhood was this?     Richards has no idea, owing to not having been raised here. Calvin answers that it was a small town that made most of its money from the nearby railroad, and also from the numerous farms outside of town. The death of infrastructure following the bombs is what ultimately killed this place; with no reliable access to water or power most of the farms couldn't run, and the ones that struggled through regardless couldn't adapt to the change in climate from the ash in the atmosphere. No more trains, no more trucks, no more power, no more food. How do so few people form so many groups despite so much open space?     "Things were like that even before the war, I think," says Richards. "They called this place the United States, but the history of the thing is anything but. We couldn't even agree on who had rights, no matter how many times we asked the question. So," she says, "People under that thing found their own, or people who'd fight for them, and stuck to it. In my neck of the woods, we take that as proof that the human experiment has failed."     "And in mine," Calvin says coolly, "We take it to mean no one's gonna save us *but* us. ...anyway. You're only lookin' at about fifty years of history, give or take. Once upon a time, 'Canaan, Libertalia, the Assembly,' those were all just ideas. It's just the three 'groups,' really. And not everybody's even a part of one. There's plenty of places that just wanna... be, in the now, and not be part of no bigger idea in the future."     The collapsed buildings Petra enters are much like the ones she saw outside of Atlanta; grimly fascinating little cross-sections of a forgotten existence. Nature has encroached into nearly all of them, in its way. Some have trees growing in them, some hold the dens of wild animals, many have water damage and mold besides, crawling up the walls like hands breaking the surface of the sea to either pull themselves up or drag down what they grasp. Given the sunken shape of so many a roof, it's likely the latter.     Meresankh detects an energy signature. It's the same kind of faint background pulse that Calvin and Richards' COMPs emit, actually, but on a lower frequency. Is its power supply running out? Could it be damaged? That's what it is, upon closer examination--a COMP, like Calvin and Richards', damaged and likely by acute force of some kind. It'd have to be--COMPs are built to take a beating, so damage of that sort would most likely be deliberate.
Dimokratia	Dimo picks over the details of the situation in her mind, her smile turned at Futaba-the-Eagle as the Balding Bird takes off. There was a low chance of any of the local threats harming an escort of four plus a powerful being themself, and a similarly low chance of those threats organizing themselves together too accomplish a larger operation. She had found nothing on orbital pass, which would have solved this situation promptly. There was no blatant crater of a wreck or raging fire, drawing all the flying Chevaliers on the needsome. Miserably negative, as a situation went, a hand of hidden darkness that clouded knowledge all too literal. So, enjoying the small moments with those who echoed the sentiment of missing her and wishing to spend time with them specifically, was also a silent part of her goals in the splitting up of the members of the Chevalier (and Petra is Also Here!) operation. There had been a harmonious setup before her as soon as Khosa and Meresankh paired off, and Calvin had only room for one. So, outside of the 'golden hour' as Lilian had earlier put it, if it came to pickover passes to scour gridsquares until evidence was found or allied authorities were satisfied, Dimo would deploy a fleet of drones to handle the work without hesitation... However, surely the Champion herself was superior to any number of drones. Thus, her duty was discharged perfectly by a personal hand placed on the matter. '... 'Interest'?' So too does Dimo expect the 'no' to come. There's a soft hesitance for the Champion to test Petra on this, a firmness check she had once failed direly despite her every advantage, and make direct demand of Petra in such casual circumstance. So she smiles, and she speaks around, and she engages in Diplomacy, because, she wants things, and feels things, and she circles the beast that is Petra's negativity with cloak and spear at ready. There was a proper firmness. More than find it - she aimed to increase it. "I have touched it, and that was quite the experience, as a shape, but no, the Beauty did not move through space." Dimo explain, not getting to a 'please', and certainly not to Petra, but she's comfortable expressing the want if Petra's being obliging. When Petra does so - the thumb cracking of the mirror-glass, the expansion, somehow so much grander than the descension, Dimo's stare is drinking, a lean-in and following buzz-hum that rises with her attention at the greater shape the Beauty takes. And Petra, inside of it! Dimo claps palms flush together in a wondrous delight. "Yes, this is much better. You separate from the Beauty was a distortion I could not place, and now with you inside," Dimo rises up to stand appreciatively besides the Beauty of Ash, a step apart for pacing, while the now-taller glass thrumming-bird rises bipedally from Creature Mode. "I can now perceive the whole." Dimo finishes, shortly before Petra takes off with the bare push-off of relational telekinesis propulsion. The light clapping ends with hands clasped before the champion, looking up at both of the girls she had set out to take a flight with, with a two step head start she jumps into the air as well. The first step is taken and Dimo's legs crouch down, the two morphmetal trails flowing behind her gain definition, structure, and above all motion, first sweeping up in arches as the protostate of formed organic wings implied in length and curtainspill, and hanging droplet. The second step is taken, and with a crouch she springs, and the morphmetal protowings at her back sweep sail-like out and down to throw her skyward after Futaba and Petra. Though she would be loathe to admit it, she would have caught up with both quite a bit faster had she launched with more force, but, Petra had left with such grace and Futaba had left as a bird so how could she *burn* a blade of grass?
Dimokratia	With trails stabilizing as broad flight-wing fins to take full avionic advantage of atmosphere, it's the active use of heat-exhaust based thrusters that gives Dimo her own flight capability, three-quarters flying through the air and one quarter swimming or parasailing. While revelry might not be part of her flight plan she accelerates up to join the Beauty of Ash in barrel roll and take wing position on, considering the terrain below while listening to the aerial gossip line. Dimo begins receiving a mental communication and even though it sounds like Petra, more-whole-than-whole, is startled by receiving one across her awareness when that had never been the case before. A new openness? A new development, a complexity that was beyond welcome? It takes Dimo some time to respond, even formulate a plan on response when the raw synaptic crackle that she normally used had been summarily 'less than effective'. And so, immediately, a joyous message of Finally, we might understand each other!. . . is reduced to static and froth and the usual unreaching connection, and Dimo does not let such upon her face but her disappointment in the moment is severe. Eventually, Dimo has to say something, over the hours of searching. Standing questions can't be ignored, despite the overwhelming lack of convenient ability to answer with mental connection or contact communication. So Dimo just uses her standard communicator and if Petra misses it then the problem rests with the receiver. It wasn't like much of what Petra had said demanded a response. Only one part. But her disgust with That circumstance was near to the disgust she felt in This circumstance, and so out of her something was demanded. > "It is because they are bigots, Petra. They must know the ones they hate. Do you understand why I appear the way I do, slightly more, Petra? I do so, so there can be no mistaken identity." > "They are worse than pervert freaks." Her transmitted tone is hot, angry, passionate, the kind of rant someone gets to where they don't really care if the other side is listening. Dimo desires to say this and if someone picks it up then they can hear her spill sun-hot truth like honey into their ears. "They are despicable in their negativity, and how it drips from their very souls, twisted by the exultation *of* perversion, of end-chasing, of augmentations of every kind valid but the ones they despise. I know of the City. I wish to scrub it, as a brush might abrade away rust, to reveal the clean foundations beneath to start again, and when it is lifted as a place of harmony--" '... How well *do* you two know each other, actually?' Dimo trails off on her sermonous roll, emptying of momentum, and the truth is bare and dispassionate. > "She and I have spoken. She knew of Heyalexa. She wished for things, and then, decided against. That is all. Yet I know of her, and, I would prefer those that are distant sibling to me to be free, and know their own divinity." 'That might be our guy, or the escort. Ready to drop in fast, unless you want to scope it out more.' Futaba is all business, and so Dimo responds in kind, since the Unbalded Eagle had gone so far as to take the lead *and* scout the target. A warm buzz even through the radio accompanies Dimo's detached voice, nothing like the sermons and ineffable aura of disappointment Petra receives. > "You have already determined the proper path to take, with the form of a predator at your use. We know there are threats in the area, but we cannot know who is there - target an open area and land quickly, consider the battlefield, and then take the appropriate steps. Giving up your dive for the shock to see clearly is the privilege of the strong, Futaba." Dimo councils, interested to see Futaba go for it.
Calvin Nash	BGM: https://youtu.be/MQ4dmzUBrlI?si=1tIQhlTxutuuzJfT      On the ground with Khosa, Herutep finds further evidence that this is where the ambush was staged. Multiple humanoid figures passed through here. There are dozens of tracks in the leaf litter and snapped twigs, and the weight of the impressions suggests they were fairly big and in quite a hurry. Some of the trees have their bark stripped in places, in angular little cuts. Teeth, maybe? Or perhaps weapons in hand?     Whoever they were, they're already gone, though Futaba was correct in discerning the direction. They must have been lying in wait under the tree cover, then struck when the Marshal escort came into range. If this were all, though, the Marshals could have arguably sped past on the intended route. Hairy, and dangerous, but doable. Maybe they had people at the fork to keep them from doing that?     Khosa picks up two presences; faint as if on the edge of consciousness. One is shaped like a human, the other is closer to Unicorn or to the other demons she's seen. One of them brightens and grows more alert shortly after she feels it.     "Ho there," says a man's voice. The accent is unlike anything here, closest only to Lilian's and even then distant. Irish--not that she'd know it. "Friend or foe?" Though the presence is stronger, it's still showing the signs of fatigue.     The fact that he's asking is sign enough that he's the former. The injured and unconscious form of a stocky Demon Marshal with a pronounced gut and arms like tree trunks lies a few feet from an overturned pickup. His uniform is bloodied in a bad spot, but his condition is stable, thanks either to that other presence or to some precaution on the Marshal's part. Another nearby wasn't so lucky--her head is split and bleeding in a way that's too deep to be survived, and she's slumped against the trunk of a tree.     Guarding the living and unconscious Marshal is what must be his demon partner. A young man with white hair braided and peeking from beneath a deer-antlered cap eyes Khosa warily. His splint-mail shirt is similarly stained with blood that glints in the moonlight, and likewise is the sword in his hand. "Who are you?"
Calvin Nash	Beside Lilian and Calvin, Richards takes out her charm, a small golden ankh. She looks at it, anxiously expecting some reaction, then squeezes it as if to coax that reaction further. "He's not here," she advises Lilian and Calvin.     "We don't know that for sure," Calvin says. "Remember what Lilian said. Anything messin' with scryin' could be messin' with that, too." Would it react to a body?     "No," says Richards with a worried frown. "He wouldn't leave one for long, anyway."     Calvin stops the truck when Lilian signals, and Richards signals Unicorn to stop. Lilian's investigation finds that 'fighting retreat' is the case here, though it seems they were taken by surprise, which unfortunately confirms Calvin's theory about the perpetrators having a way to occlude foresight.     First, there's how it happened. Something powerful emerged from the treeline south of the intersection. The direction and shape of the residue implies a focused attack in one direction--Calvin's truck has a big antennae on the back, as do the others in the Marshals' fleet. Could it have been a focused attack on the rear vehicle's radio? Director Moore mentioned no contact.     The next spot of residue is the countermeasures--one Marshal returned fire with what looks like something meant to dissuade coming closer with excessive but expertly controlled force, similar to how expertly Lilian controls space with Night Mist. A third spot outlines the vehicle; probably some kind of protective spell to keep its integrity.     Another is similarly shaped, but streaked in much more pronounced a fashion--another 'buffing' spell but one meant to increase speed? The figure coming from the forest was held up by the massive blast from the rear vehicle, but the spattered blood nearby suggests they took their chances and ate the hit to catch up and disable the front vehicle similarly. The chase proceeds down the street; something surprised the attacker, owing to the haphazard traces down here. Another distinctive signature is left at this point; maybe Thoth, or one of the partners of the Marshals in front? It's messier than the assailant probably would have preferred. Here the figures from the west route appear to catch up and are killed in droves by the rear car, if the faint lingering traces are any suggestion. The figure from the southern trees was fighting someone, maybe on top of the vehicle, before the signatures converge in the trees that Meresankh and Khosa are checking out. It was a deliberate decision--the jostling terrain would have made it more difficult for the attacker to maintain their grip, whereas the Marshal's demon could easily be recalled and resummoned if necessary.     A concerted expenditure from both Marshals is probably likely at the last spot before the treeline; some kind of spell channeled through the truck, timed right when it hit offroad to give the best chance of shaking the attacker. It worked, and they were almost home free, but the attacker managed to throw something out as they hit the ground. Following the traces, Lilian comes across the unnamed demon with the Irish accent and the unconscious Marshal.
Calvin Nash	From on high, Petra and Dimo can see spattered bloodstains on the road leading from the fork to southeast, trailing from there into the forest alongside fresh skid marks. Calvin and Richards are following both those and the trail of magical residue as seen by Lilian, and with their birds' eye view, Petra and Dimo can easily follow.      With the truck dropped into park and the ignition killed, Calvin enters the forest with his shotgun at the ready. "Holy shit. Fionn?" Calvin pronounces it 'Finn.'     "Marshal Nash," says Fionn. "<How are you?>"     "I'll be better with a big steak and a beer," Calvin dryly remarks. "How's JM?"     "Better than Rhonda," says Fionn sadly. "Took all I had to protect him."     "Who are you? Where's Thoth?" asks Richards with accusation in her voice, hand reaching for her sword as she dismounts Unicorn. "Why didn't you protect *him?*"     "Don't you talk to him like that," says Calvin, stepping between them and putting a pointed index in Richards' face. "That's Fionn mac Cumhaill." 'Finn McCool,' he pronounces it. "I known him for years and I know he fought like hell to keep Thoth safe."     "Not as hard as for your Marshal there," bitterly notes Richards.     "It's 'cause he *did* that we even have anybody to talk to. Now do you wanna keep shittin' on a good man or figure out what happened?"      "Ongyo-ki and a host of oni happened," says Fionn.      Calvin's brow knits and his eyes screw shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose in mute exasperation.      "They ambushed us," Fionn continues, "Knew we would be here, somehow. He wasn't expecting me to be here, and I used the Thumb to buy us some time, but he clipped us heading into the trees and the truck rolled. Thoth is alive," he says, looking over Calvin's shoulder at Richards. "But I don't know how much longer. They're taking him to Atlanta."      "Shit," Calvin hisses. After a sigh, "What about the others?"      "Handled the oni. Touched me and JM up, then left to warn Director Moore and get backup for Atlanta."      "Aight. I guess that's where we're headed, then."