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Ein	Team Timekeeper's journey through the Weyerhauser Woods is one that, despite it being Spring by all considerations, seems more early Fall less the orange - monochrome in the colors of soot and cinder without the clear demarcations of chessboard the Foundation prefers. The main road to the Walden is considered a cleared and solid thing, but, for 1929, and loosely defined by the hemming in of the drifts and banks of heaped dirt and stones and tree detritus from clearing the roads throughout the year, much of which has turned into a thick and chunky ash pile ridge before a fall-off into sooty dirt and blackened treetrunks in various state of burn and breakage. Where months ago a thick fog had fallen over the woods and had nearly choked it to death save for the single road, for the first spring in several years the sun breaks through clinging mist in patches and spots and leaves the trail within more navigable and clear and implying the breaking of branches and treecover that allows through godrays and beams of warmth. Was it daytime? Here, for the moment, it seemed to not matter, like a fairy mist that would scare peasants in past eras. The Storm has saturated the air with magic and in eerie phantasmagoria 'it' appears, travelled underneath with the approach of Team Timekeeper and the recently-recruited Gwendolyne Vera Sotheby, who had wanted to help and the Timekeeper wasn't turning down people offering such right now. Ms. Moissan had joined to ensure Sotheby's ultimate safety, and to keep Sotheby from getting into too much trouble on baby's first day out (she's 13, and it's her second* day out). Morning dew, heavy in the ashes, had risen as steam in the heat of the day, and among the fingers of a forest that was, the ghost of 'it' remains. A thin mirage in the air sculpts smoke in twisting and unnatural curls, giving surreal points that mist might drape on or be vented to, pierced through by irregular lightbeams. The air hangs still, unmoved by wind, and so nothing dispels the rising smokelike mist and Storm mirage. Mist clings around Ms. Moissan's boots as the Field Agent takes a position near the front, leading at a purposeful gait over slightly familiar terrain. "Conditions weren't like this prior, but if we're quick in moving we might be able to avoid any major encounters. This whole area was thick with spirits before, and now..." There's really no explaining it. The psychics who have been scanning the local atmosphere for meaning are receiving a lot of mixed signals, 'It's burned too badly, but things still live here.'     'This monochrome is the natural state, without sunlight.' 'Even the air chokes, hoping to breathe.'     'The rain only washes the truth deeper, and mud remains.' Inconclusive, twilight and threshold-thoughts rise with the smoke, whispers of gnosis to the receptive, and also the sussuration of other lives and journeys pressing into the other direction. Ashdust Carbuncles, sootblack and ashen grey bodied with eyes that out onto the path, huddle and hiss at everyone when they approach, seemingly minding their own business otherwise -- except for a loud sort of distressed cat yowling and mewling, a needful distress noise. Immediately distracted by Critters - which she actually knows quite well - Sotheby perks up from her vague Brave Face Act and tired child who had been overstimulated for a while and now was Walking Someplace and immediately Activates. "Wow! Look there! That shine! Is that... gold? And that a-dorable little friend is in distress! I'm sure with a good squeeze they'll be right as rain, and maybe there'll be a rare gizzard-stone for me too! That's mutual exchange, the very foundation of alchemy!" Sotheby, that's either veterinary work or animal cruelty.
Ein	Rabbiting as only a little lady with a BIG hat and a lot of gumption can, Sotheby immediately dashes off the path with hands outstretched to Squeeze That Carbuncle, startling the little generic grey and black ones to find . . . A bloated stack of golden carbuncles, the lowest one almost as big as a small sedan, and the upper ones bearing some of that awful Storm 'mirage' effect on them, glinting and metallic and heavy-bearing with gold. There is also one Sotheby sized Sotheby, now surrounded by agitated Carbuncles, staring and pointing at the 'mutated' one. "Sotheby!" Ms. Moissan shouts, having already gotten her mallet out and gauging distance to the Carbuncle pile. "I believe that one has a ter-ribble tummyache!" Sotheby announces back, as if answering normal questions and not recognizing distress much at all. Really, people were shouting her name like that under plenty of circumstances! Usually when things were well in control! The Carbuncles around her hiss and snap, whereas the bloated triple stack emit the same kitten-mewling noise with a truly displaced size to voice ratio, and then... begin drooling gold coins while sliding and bouncing bulk forward towards Sotheby, Moissan -- and everyone else! There is one stack of three Critters and a whole lot of extra little ones, plus a Situation!! Are there Mechanics? Do they Matter on Story mode??
Riku Asakura	The trip to the Walden was one that Riku had done before, but it was at night and not during the day.  Not that it mattered in those woods, because everything was dark here.  The fall-like area still was spooky for Riku, who disliked this place and the Walden itself, because it felt... unnatural somehow.  He couldn't put his finger on the how and why exactly, but something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.   'Conditions weren't like this prior, but if we're quick in moving we might be able to avoid any major encounters.' Riku nods at this, willing to move on the road as fast as he can to get to where they need to go to do what they need to do here.  Of course, nobody could account for Sotheby, who runs off the road towards the critters, and the wailing noise made by one of them.   Riku did not hesitate; he followed after Sotheby, trying to catch up to her when he realized they're surrounded by lots of little cat-rabbit-creatures who seem to be... well, unfriendly.  He draws from his capsule container two capsules.  "You go!" he shouts, activating the capsule, and a large figure of a giant of light appears.   Sliding this into a capsule holder, he shouts again, "I go!" This time, when he activates the capsule, a giant of darkness appears, with Belial's eyes.  He slides this into the capsule holder.  "Here we go!" he says, still running towards Sotheby, and slides the Fusion riser across the top of each capsule, scanning them.  "It's time to get ready!" he says before pulling the Fusion riser across his chest and pulling the trigger! "GEEEEEEEED!" he shouts! White flame-like energy erupts from him as he rushes to interject himself between Sotheby, Moissan, and the carbuncles, as they rush forward towards her and the group.   FUSION RISE! ULTRAMAN! ULTRAMAN BELIAL! ULTRAMAN GEED PRIMITIVE! Standing human-sized is Ultraman Geed, trying to protect the younger girl as he immediately strikes out at the larger, bloated stack of carbuncles.  His first attempt to strike it, before aiming to try to catch the mass in a hold, and attempt to body slam it into the ground.
Veronica	Veronica's connection to the urban psyche does not extend to most woods, but she's probably better off without such a link to this place. The soot-choked woods remind her of the earliest years of her life in Firefly Dam, before and during the Wing War, when Laryngos Corp's smog choked the sky and poisoned the water. There aren't many photographs of those days - records of the previous Wing were tightly proscribed - but her memory of the haze is like the weather conditions here-and-now. At least breathing's a little easier.     When she notices the carbuncles scurrying here and there across the forest floor, she startles at first, just a little, before intuiting from the locals' reactions that This Is Normal. "Didn't have those in London," she comments in an effort to make conversation. "Oh, is that one hurt?" she adds when Sotheby runs up to the distressed critter.     She's halfway ready to teach Sotheby a makeshift critter-Heimlich maneuver when the more aggressive carbuncles make their presence known with a similar-but-louder noise and a shower of spittle and gold. "Oh, yuck! Critters are affected by Storm Syndrome too, then?"     Veronica hesitates, considering her options while the critters advance. Baker and Seventh is quickly ruled out - the last thing she wants to do is knock a dead tree over and risk hitting even one of the other offworlders, let alone an already-distracted Sotheby! Instead she raises her concrete and scrap-metal left hand as if grasping for the tree branches above, because that's exactly what she's doing.     Channeling the portion of her EGO's power that she can access without it fully formed around her, Veronica tests the branches above, trying to find something that is a) dead enough to break free from the trunk easily and b) large enough that it might scatter the main heap of carbuncles into smaller, more-managable-for-everyone clumps.
James Bond	I'm sure with a good squeeze they'll be right as rain, and maybe there'll be a rare gizzard-stone for me too!     Bond says, in 'we have McDonald's at home,' "We don't have time." He makes the mistake of assuming that's enough to dissuade a 13 year old who's on her second day out ever, and turns to glance towards Moissan, whose behavior has thus far communicated a little more than simple professional obligation. "I'm sure there are plenty around the Foundation that have had their--"     Shots. The snap of a twig jolts his attention back towards Sotheby. He reaches for something heavy, cold and familiar, already in a firing posture by the time he realizes--     She obviously loves the damned things.     He glances towards Lilian, a blink of an eye to speak the thought wordlessly. The nose of the Walther dips, Bond grunts in frustration, clicks the safety back on and holsters it.     Instead, he points his watch towards Sotheby, twisting the bezel. A convincing facade of an analog face winks out, replaced by a reticle over a panorama of the burnt forest. Sotheby pans into view, and he presses the stop. With a sharp 'pthew' sound, a metal coil launches from a hidden port on the watch, winding around the adventurous alchemist and yanking her out of harm's way.     "Any closer and you would've been the one getting squeezed."
Odette Raskins	"Thick with spirits? Y-You don't mean like ghosts, right?" Odette pales at first as she hears about the spirits from Ms. Moissan, trying to shake off the spectre of spectres out of her head. Still shivering just from the thought, the EMT inhales deeply through her nose before clapping her face, then hovering protectively over Sotheby. "O-of course not... Wild animals and monsters and the like are something that we've-er. They've fought plenty of times before, and everyone here's really strong, so we'll be okay." She says, clearly trying to psyche herself up enough to not seem as terrified as she is of everything on the way to the Walden. It helps quite a bit that Sotheby's there, of course, giving her extra incentive to look braver than she is. She needs to stay calm to look reliable in front of the child, at least! Still, seeing all the long-burnt trees in the backdrop of a vague time of day that makes it hard to tell just how long she's been here is rather fraying on Odette's nerves. Her jaw tightens as she hears the hissing of the Carbuncles before she sees the creatures, and she turns somewhat stiffly as she hears Sotheby's observations about the creatures. "Distress? Um! Sotheby, I think we might be the ones distressing them!" Chasing after Sotheby and Ms. Moissan, Odette's method of approaching the Carbuncles is a far gentler one than usual: Bringing out snacks laced with sedatives! She almost drops them, of course, when she gets bounced on and at, squealing at one Carbuncle whacking her in the shins and nearly faceplanting in the process. Dropping into a roll that only kind of hurts her side when she rolls over her carrying case, she first tries to scrunch up and look small to the offending Critter, maintaining eye contact with the puffball and tossing a sedative-laced oatmeal raisin cookie at it. "C-come on, don't be shy... Maybe we just got off on the wrong foot. Here, eat up!" She cracks an awkward smile at that, too, trying to look friendly and non-threatening with her offering.
Lilian Rook	Lilian is glad to be away from the mob. Deeply, even spiritually relieved, if anything; like she can finally take a deep breath.     Lilian doesn't actually feel any better at all. Her excuse to get away from the mob is the impending end of the world.     Guiltily, she had wished to herself that it would hurry up and wash Chicago away sooner than later; but only a little bit, not seriously, surely.     Now that it's actually happening, she can't decide how to feel about it at all. She can't even recognize how she feels right now.     For everything she hated about the place, no matter how deeply she might allow herself to indulge in a pointless, immature, undirected hatred of all humanity, the heaviest stone remained unmoved: Bellwhistle lives here too.     Bellwhistle and Margaret and all the others in the Ainsworth office, not to mention Sotheby and Karson and even Schneider, for whatever perverse fondness Lilian tries not to think she has for her. Once she starts thinking about that, she starts wondering how many others are out there, undiscoverable to someone like her, but whom at least Vertin could coax aboard her ark; how many they'll have missed, how many will never know, whether arcanists or rare, decent humans. Once she starts thinking about that, she starts feeling bad for the people who'd been least bad when she visited before, and knowing this was their last night on Earth, Lilian suddenly felt sorry for them.     'Thank god for Manus Vindictae' she thought, only allowing it to buouy her with a very bleak laugh; one just for herself. 'If it weren't for them, the Foundation would have to care too. Then the work would be trying to save people from the Storm, and losing, rather than fighting the evil race-terrorists and winning.'     Not that the forest improves anything at all. The fog is so heavy and so strange, whether it's the Storm or not, that Lilian can only try to focus on the trees, and the look of it just makes her sad. At some point along the way, nerves holding steady at a monotonous flatline of mild tension, progress down the road settled into a monotonous, if brisk, rhythm, Lilian just has to ask "What happened here?" Given it's probably a stupid question with a famous historical answer she didn't pay attention to, she adds "I think I've mentioned that I live out in the countryside, but it's really more of a forest. People think of them as flammable, but usually they're really not. For everything to be torched this miserably--" Lilian frowns for an instant. She meant to say 'thoroughly'. "--it's like the city went at it with a purpose."     Lilian does not like burned forests. She likes crumbling old buildings and abandoned villages and radio towers out in the middle of nowhere, being reclaimed by thriving nature. Literally the opposite of this, as established very recently on a certain outing. This just makes her sad. More than the usual amount that anyone would normally feel at seeing this. Like it's a certain, personal offense. She spends the whole time wringing and fingertapping and restlessly fidgeting with the hilt of her weapon. "God. The air is already so thick you could cut it." she says, distant. She doesn't mean the fog     "--Oh my god please not cats again." Lilian moans suddenly, just before Sotheby bolts off. Though she would go chasing after a spunky little !magical girl that she feels fondly towards, she happens to be in a very large group right now, and her dedicated caretaker is right there, so Lilian glances at Ms. Moisson first, to gauge her reaction. The fact that Bond glances at her changes her mind. The silent message conveyed by their eye contact, a certain kind of veteran to a certain kind of veteran, makes her sigh.
Regulus	Regulus is going to be the last person to insist that Sotheby 'stay on the path' whether it be the straight and narrow or a literal one. And she's certainly eager to hurry. In a 'Hopefully we can finish everything we gotta do with several hours left to spare so we don't melt into the sky' sense. She's feeling tense. A Storm this soon feels ... big. What if they're all just getting faster and faster? What if the next time the Storm hits, it'll be like three months after? Or a week? Or a day? Worse, what if she starts getting used to it? Used to the Storm as a constant presence hanging over everything? What if being on THIS side of The Storm invariably changes her into a person she doesn't like and would never want to be? She thinks of Vertin. How many people has she seen get swept away? What if she... She doesn't want to think about it. She misses her time. She misses when the biggest thing she had to worry about was a few weeks in jail and the future of music. She's not some Elite warrior, she's not even a normal warrior. The only fight she expected to fight was for the soul of her time and even then she didn't think she'd have to throw rocks, just perform it. Now that she's gotten to know Schneider, she's more worried. Schneider promised not to shoot her, Schneider even said 'Peace and Love' and, sure, she was being a little silly with it but could she really hope to reach even a similar accord with the hardliners? She wants to go home more than anything. Anything, that is, but abandon Vertin on her quest. She's gotten to know her, and Sonetto, and frankly even Matilda and Miss Moissan and Sotheby and Karson. They're real people to her, now, and abandoning them to hide away in the Suitcase--something she's sure Vertin would be all too willing to allow--is something she's more afraid of than a hundred Manus Vindictae cannons. It'd be betraying them but more importantly it'd be betraying Regulus. "Lilian, how long does it usually take to 'shape up' and get used to this...?" She murmurs, more for herself--really--than for Lilian. But fortunately, it's not Manus Vindictae she immediately has to worry about but the far more mundane situation of a cat in need. Regulus immediately feels empathy for the distressed cat. "Maybe we can spook them away." Regulus suggests to Sotheby, all too willing to take time to save A Cat under this timeline. Wait--hold on, what the heck is going on with those?" She supposes she shouldn't be SURPRISED that critters get affected by The STorm but she remembers what can happen to the people afflicted by it. "Sotheby, be careful! Something's--" She thinks how to put this in a way that doesn't encourage Sotheby to move CLOSER to the 'mutated' Carbuncle. "--It might be violent and aggressive--AH BUGG--" She gets bashed out of the way by a bouncing carbuncle and spins around dizzily, thankfully not hit struck full on. "Ahh we really don't have time for--" GEEEEEEEEED. It feels a little weird to hear all this hub-ub over critters--even a mutated one--and a cat but maybe that'll mean they can deal with this lickity split and keep on moving. She pulls APPLe closer to her body and extends a hand, twirling her finger and sending a sharp flash of light towards the mutated critter, hoping to disorient it, hoping that will open up a path for someone to save the cat.
Lilian Rook	As Bond holsters his gun, Lilian unholsters hers. Something about it has the opposite energy to it. As if she were taking on a role that he didn't want to, in a way that better fit the energy of the place and point in time.     The way she thumbs the safety is by pressing her thumb to the tiny glyph on the side and jolting it with a microdose of magic. Then, sighting it more like a duelist than an agent, she fires an incandescent bolt of searing gold gun-flame into the pack of approaching carbuncles. She does aim low, but it also explodes. It'd take supernaturally quick eyes to actually read the double-layered-array muzzle flash. The action ejects a smoking gold shell, faintly glowing with fresh chrysopoetic heat.     "What sort of bizarre critter is made of solid gold?" Lilian mutters aloud. It's a little bit just to vent, but it's also an encouragement for Sotheby to gushingly explain rather than chase them again. "Any closer to the Walden and we'll give ourselves away doing anything flashy, so I'd prefer to avoid hostile Critters from here." She isn't firing a followup, but rather, checking through the smoke to see if they're properly chased off like she expects.     "I mean all of you!" she shouts after. "No turning five billion feet tall! No mushroom clouds! Nothing they'll see through the forest a mile away!"
Tamiel Luxis	Tamiel's wings drooped, making herself look smaller, as they pressed on toward the Walden. She'd readied herself, she thought, for the storm of thoughts that would assail her in that place--but she wasn't prepared for what they'd find on the way. The woods were alive, in their own way--or at least, dead in a way that remembers that it used to Be alive. She hates the air--even worse than a crowd, the tragedy in this place hung over it like a noxious, suffocating cloud. The doomed prayers of the dead claw at the back door of her soul with sharp fingers.     "--it's like the city went at it with a purpose."     "Maybe it did..." She gnawed at her lip for a moment. "Or at least, someone did."     "Is that... gold? And that a-dorable little friend is in distress!"     "S-Sotheby...This is a bad place, we can't--" The sound of a little thirteen year old blundering happily into danger sends Tamiel's wings bristling outward. "Oh, no." And then, she's gone.     She moves under the brush, whip-sharp, and just as quickly she's pressing upward out of the dark, as though clamoring free of a puddle. Another two mirrors of her follow, a perfect lusterless black covering all corners. Any hostile carbunkles that wandered too close would get a--     --Tammy glanced in Soetheby direction--     --Deterring prod with the angel, or her shadow's, quarterstaff.     "It's sick...?" Tamiel tries, half to navigate to some way of getting Soetheby to decide her job was done, half to occupy the little girl's motormouth. "How can it be helped?"
Timekeeper	While Vertin might be immune to the Storm Syndrome, the madness that the Storm carries along with it encroaches even on her, maybe more than anyone realizes. What the red lights on her wrist represent in her mind is an absolute inviolable imperative, the stripping away of the trappings of civilization and modern society in favor of animal objective: only, Vertin's are the same in every era. Right now, she has to ensure that everyone survives, and for the future, she has work to end the Storm.     There's just not any other information that can penetrate her mind right now. The walk through the forest is flensed down to a path, the mission statement and calculations done with distance and speed-- time, and how much there is to spend, and how much to do before it's up. Her thoughts are on the Walden, and her eyes are everywhere, looking for any hint of arcanum as if the Manus Vindictae's workings stretch all the way out here.     There's one other thing that awaits them at the Walden, besides intelligence, and just as with Regulus before she doesn't speak it aloud even to her allies. Not once has she rested easily on the idea that the Manus would follow through on their promise to shelter Schneider from the Storm, and now that it's here, that worry builds up into an unignorable tide.     Schneider's words on her mind-- the Timekeeper's insistence on appearing places where she would be forced to shoot them-- are, if anything, reassuring. If even now, Schneider is willing to kill on the Manus Vindictae's behalf, their official mission will be much more difficult, but Schneider and the Grecos will survive.
Timekeeper	"This whole area was thick with spirits before, and now..."     "Got it. With our numbers, even a cluster of highly agitated spirits would have trouble confusing us as they did before, but even so we should be careful not to be separated."     Now that an objective has been accomplished, even if it wasn't one she knew of before, Sonetto's pulled herself together to be as pristinely businesslike as ever. Bellwhistle and the rest are lives saved beyond what could be callously called a quota, and in a desperate emergency as this one, that's something to get a grip on. Everything else is just war, and scraping back what advantage they can from the catastrophe. "For everything to be torched this miserably--"     "Some years back," Vertin announces suddenly, distractedly lifted from her ironclad reverie by some impulse or another. It's only like surfacing above water, before fading back into its depths again. "I'm told it was intentional. I have doubts as by whom." "I'm sure with a good squeeze they'll be right as rain, and maybe there'll be a rare gizzard-stone for me too!" "Ah! Miss Sotheby! We have to..." "Gold?"     Sonetto and Vertin's attention both snap towards her with different tones but similar intent. Sonetto's glasfeder is unclasped from her thigh as a habitual motion before her sentence is finished, twirled up between her fingers to gesture threateningly in pen-grip to the snarling critters. Within moments, one's leaped up to latch its sharp teeth around her forearm, shaken off with a violent motion and then blasted with a ray of light.     "Fainter, dimmer, stiller each moment--"     As sparkles of light suspended in blooming un-light spread out from Sonetto, Vertin holds a hand out to the side. "Your array is highly visible, Sonetto. Stick to incantations for now."     "Ah- yes, Timekeeper. Sempre caro mi fu quest'ermo colle." As the array fades away, instead a twin helix of scrawled light arcs out of her pen, smacking into and binding the carbuncle menacing on Sotheby.     Vertin grips a ritual disk between her fingers and hurries to Sotheby's side once she's reeled back. To everyone nonspecifically, but Sotheby especially, "Carbuncles are especially prone to falling into the patterns they see in society around them, and exaggerating them. If these are stealing gold, that's to be expected; but a tummyache?"
Ein	'GEEEEEEEED!' "Is that the call of the leprechaun? It's a bit unseasonal for them here!" Sotheby calls, as she crouches to pick up one of the Carbuncles with both hands and get her gloves all sooty. "Drunk on rainbow flights of the festival wines, they're usually pretty surly in weather like this if it is one!" Really, she's meant to do all this, built for this, trucked up her skirts and waded right into it and now was truly In It and smiling, but perhaps... "Hmm!" Sotheby considers, squeezing Ashbuncle to chest and having the little one hork up a golden coin it had swallowed. When she dips down to retrieve the strangely crawling coin, common in all other ways... Ultraman charges forward, empowered with the loud report of his Riser and letting him clash with car-sized Carbuncles at the appropriate scale, easily managing to strike a socking knife-hand chop against the Carbuncle to make it queasily rumble, and then be easily grabbed and flipped over!! Which,     goes against the n a t u r a l o r d e r . The middle Bloated Goldbuncle is pulled free of its stack, and brings the Goldbuncle out of harmonious stackage, leaving smallest to roll atop the bloat of biggest, and both start crying like yowling shouty babies of a horrendous aural assault. The one he body slams bounces once before beginning an unfortunate '''attack pattern''' of projectile regurgitating what seems like a while telling machine of dirty loose change, and then stranger pieces like buttons and cuff-links, emptying itself of value in some arbitrary demarcation of lowest value to highest value, and Ultraman Geed knocking the absolute stuffing-to-loose-barter-objects out of it! But the natural order has been disrupted, the Three Carbuncles Stacked Atop Each Other having been peeled apart and left in pieces that leaves them direly restless and agitated! Sotheby doesn't even notice a bit as she ducks into the crowd of Ashdust Carbuncles to hold one of the 'cursed' gold coins in fist and reach for a second carbuncle with the other. James's hesitation to enter Fishing Minigame Mode instead certainly might feel meaningful in the moment - for his soul, and that of a little girl's - while the Wild Sotheberry is zipped out of Harm's Apparent Way through the close arboreal support of Veronica's psychic slinging of wood to scatter the mass of critters into more disparate groups. Sotheby, divested of Carbuncles AND coins in a "Woah!!" of zipping away, is reeled in by one Br*tish while the other fires a warning shot! Broadly encouraged to gab and gossip about what's going on - and Moissan moving in to intercept the scattered rush of closest Ashdust Carbuncles with 'tummyaches', mirage-trailing and agitated beyond reason to follow the escape as some strange aggression that Sotheby simply wading in and engaging in Witch Touching wasn't quite the same sort of natural aggression. Sotheby had a way, but also, was clearly in over her head if Geed was any note, finding a second phase and mechanics in the swollen and angry Goldbuncles. Moissan ducks through a crowd of dazed critters to low swing the lesser beasts back into the woods where they would be forgotten and avoided after. "Miss Sotheby, this forest isn't like the manor grounds! We're not at your home any more, and the Carbuncles aren't as docile! You have to understand, your mother," She begins, but has to stop as the Carbuncles continue to swarm up, scattered enough to be a few to a person rather than overwhelming. "-tamed her Critters much more thoroughly!"
Ein	Sotheby, held in one arm by James, protests as she carries on, broadly encouraged by people. "They're sick, Miss Moissan! Everyone, they're sick and we need to help them! There's something wrong, Carbuncles are generally gentle creatures that only attack when provoked, or, sick, or agitated, or, hungry, or... well, they're really quite pleasant if you know the right body language and don't ever bare your teeth, as that's a challenge, but--" She reaches up to James' lapel and tugs his neck down as the largest Goldbuncle - really just a Carbuncle absolutely bloated on some sort of filthy (literal) lucre - begins to spit out its own collection of cash register '''clean''' loose change in hard denominations. The detritus -- the money without value at all! "They'll need to be squeezed! To release them of their belly-problems! Otherwise, they'll continue on to create a whole generation of grump-buncles, grumbly-evil spirits that only want to cause mischief!" Sotheby, perhaps they have already hit that point.
Riku Asakura	'Is that the call of the leprechaun? It's a bit unseasonal for them here!' "Uh, no, it's my name in my Ultraman form, Ms. Sotheby!" he says, never before thinking it was ridiculous, but when compared to a leprechaun, he feels the sting of being called out by a child just a little bit.   'No turning five billion feet tall! No mushroom clouds! Nothing they'll see through the forest a mile away!' Well, geeze, Lilian, talk about ruining the combat flow of an Ultraman!  How else is he supposed to stop these things?  He'll have to rely on luchador fighting styles and crashing into trees now!  However, Geed responds to Lilian's call with a nod.   That's when he realizes he has gone against the n a t u r a l o r d e r.  The howling of the trio of Goldbuncle's causes Geed to pause, trying to figure out what is just up with these creatures before they start firing gold and currency at them with zeel.  Geed naturally protects his face with his hands, a few pieces zipping into his hands and chest, causing toku sparks as he rolls across the ground, avoiding the majority of the shots. 'They'll need to be squeezed! To release them of their belly-problems!' Geed doesn't understand the importance of taking care of his carbuncles, but he hears Sotheby's suggestion to squeeze them to rid himself of whatever might be aggravating them.  He rolls through the goldbuncle fire and attempts to catch the large one again, aiming to give it a nice big SQUEEZE, aiming to hopefully give it some relief.
Veronica	Veronica sees the carbuncles scatter away from the falling foliage, and allows herself a little smirk. Problem solved, right? Spread out like they are, the carbuncles could only pose a real threat if they could attack from a distance!     The carbuncles proceed to attack from a distance.     Shielding her head with her arms as the carbuncles shower the woods with coins and bits of debris, Veronica makes for the nearest cover, standing straight upright with a tree between her back and the carbuncles. With the scant safety that affords, Veronica thinks about how best to squeeze the creatures, and whether squeezing will really help to begin with.     Figuring that Sotheby knows her stuff, Veronica looks around and settles on the self-same fallen branch she dropped earlier, its smaller offshoots now snapped away by the rough landing. Reaching for it with her hand and mind, she lifts the log and presses it as best she can against the goldbuncle in Ultraman Geed's grip. Thankful that unlike Geed she doesn't have to bear the brunt of the cascading, glittering detritus herself, she telekinetically rolls the branch up and down the goldbuncle's body like a baker working dough.
Regulus	Regulus might be philisophically inclined to believe in Sotheby's wisdom, she might even think for real that it has some merit, but there's one little issue about Sotheby's plan that Regulus doesn't have the heart to tell Sotheby. Which is, mainly, that the problem with the squeeze the critters plan is that she has to get in close and squeeze the critters. Critters, in Regulus's experience, don't tend to like to be squeezed! Fortunately, her light beam seems to have dazed some critterse and with Miss Moissan keeping critters off her back, maybe she has an opportunity to actually do this and not immediately pay regulus consequences? It HAS been a while since she has slipped on a banana peel or ran straight into a ratbot. Maybe this is the day her fortunes finally change! But she does wince, though, as an avowed pacifist, it hurts her when people get hurt on her behalf. She runs forward and grabs a couple of the dazed critters and looks to Sotheby, "Am I squeezing them right?" She asks as she both falls back to get a little leeway and squeeze them both against her body as she falls over to the floor. She squeezes those fuzzballs with all her might until hopefully whatever's making them sick is spewed all out! "Is there a Foundation course on treating sick critters, Sonetto?" Regulus calls over to her in case she has any advice.
Timekeeper	"Ah-!"     Vertin claps her hands over her ears, cringing at the aggrieved shriek the carbuncle lets out. There aren't birds in this forest to fearfully flutter away en masse in response to the cacophony, which, while readjusting her hat, she reflects on as being a good thing. It'd hardly matter if they kept their fighting restrained if the forest sent up a signal flare in their stead, and the only way someone would overhear the noise is if they were outside of the Walden themselves.     Sonetto's pen leaves a swiftly trailing ribbon of light when she encircles it around the air, making a barrier before the rat-a-tat spray of coins pings off of it. She holds it, bracing her hand against her wrist and wincing, with cursive words flashing at the site of each impact.     "It seems as though-- the emotional fervor of the Storm Syndrome has empowered these carbuncles to harm themselves in order to become more dangerous! But this much gold... is it possible that the Manus Vindictae fed them to create guardians?"     "Maybe," Vertin says, without much weight either way. Her eyes do scan the ground though. If there's sharpodonty among the detritus, then that's pretty interesting to know! Thoughts form instantly along the lines of baiting the carbuncles into assaulting the Walden for the riches stored inside of it.     For now, they pick up a handful of coins off the ground, reaching around Sonetto's barrier. Then, an underhanded fling upwards sends them raining towards the very carbuncles that were drawn to them in the first place, distracting them with the sudden (re)appearance of wonderful glittery gold!     The moment they stop unloading at her, Sonetto's cursive wrist movements pivot to scrawl out a binding incantation. "Ah! Thank you, Timekeeper!"     While watching a carbuncle greedily slurp up another coin before getting blasted by cabled cords of light from Sonetto that wrap it in place, Vertin idly remarks to herself. "La Source would adore one of these critters..." "Everyone, they're sick and we need to help them!"     "Quite right, Sotheby." Vertin rolls up her sleeves and presses her hat tightly on, with a surrounding aura as if she's about to go horse wrangling. "There's a certain sickness in the air right now that carbuncles are especially susceptible to. If we can help them now, it'll slow the spread across other critters in the woods too."     Panic leads to panic, that is, and carbuncles are the canaries in the coal mine of the Storm. Not only are they drawn to the gold, as they've already seen back at the manor, but the drive to possess goes so far as to eat themselves sick on it and plate themselves gold. Carbuncle care, rather than Sonetto's field of expertise, is more in Vertin's, because it was a punishment at the SPDM, of course.     "Regulus, could you cloak me and yourself with your arcanum? Sonetto, focus on slowing them down and disabling their movements-- when you see an opportunity, jump on them and hold them down, Regulus. I'll get in and give them a squeeze then, and sweep away the gold."
Tamiel Luxis	"Like the toad...?" Tamiel wondered how many of Sotheby's solutions with critters came out of squeezing them. But out here, they didn't have the right machinery! Did they? Could they just be hugged? Really...? "I'll...Try?" Tamiel turns her attention to the Carbunkles still winded and disoriented by Geed, and Lilian's alchemical bursts.     God, but they would be so easy to sweep away...And with the Storm incoming, what would it even MATTER? Tamiel chewed on her lip for a moment, one of her shadows looking back toward little Sotheby...and sighed. "...At least it'll be settled quietly, if it works."     "Go," she murmured, unnecessarily, and her shadows left to accost the carbunkles--from behind, if possible. With them at her beck and call, Tamiel could do the squeezing of half a dozen others!     At least, until the carbunkles did a discharge of their own. The shards of gold pelted Tamiel fast and sharp--the fishnet around an arm distorted, as she raised it in front of her face, creating an inky barrier between her and the carbunkles. But it didn't block the shrapnel that came at her legs, or bounce off the ground. And each hit to her shadows in the midst of squeezing duty made her vision swim, accosted by crippling phantom pains...     Tamiel fell to one knee, breathing hard. "Someone keep them off my shadows...?" Her voice was pinched in pain.
Odette Raskins	"I'm told it was intentional." "All of this? It must've really been something else before getting burnt down. So much natural stuff, looking way less spooky and everything..." Odette sighs wistfully, wondering about what could have been if she had somehow known to come here. "Carbuncles are especially prone to falling into the patterns they see in society around them, and exaggerating them." "So these ones-" Yelping again as the agitated critters continue to expel all that change, Odette scurries about to try and keep herself from getting crushed underneath their sheer size or the waves of trash money coming ouit of them. "-that're puking up all this money... Maybe they're getting it from people being way too greedy!" Squeezing past a Goldbuncle that's been pulled out of the stack by Geed, Odette experimentally gives it a smack on the back to see if that'll be enough to relieve it of all that tension. The crying noises from nearby put a halt to her experiment pretty quickly, though, and the distraction from that sudden burst of noise snaps her attention back to the fact that there's still a whole lot of the Critters between the group and the Walden. "We're not at your home any more, and the Carbuncles aren't as docile!" "Everyone, they're sick and we need to help them!" That, too, has Odette's mind fighting on how to proceed. Perhaps feeding the carbuncles wasn't the solution, but she'd still feel bad about hurting the poor things if they're just agitated! Then again, considering the incoming Storm, she still needs to prioritize helping her friends and allies get there without getting caught. Continuing to muddle over that lets another one of the spitting creatures get the jump on her, drawing another startled squawk out of the EMT before she scrambles out from underneath a wave of trash. "I don't think I've got enough indigestion meds for a whole forest like this!" Sprinting away from another one of them just leads to Odette running into the one that's harassing Tamiel, but that's when she finally tries the squeezing strategy Sotheby's recommended. Sliding besides the creature, she throws her arms around the Critter and slips behind it, squeezing it with both arms in a way that's visibly similar but legally distinct from the Heimlich maneuver!
James Bond	Everyone, they're sick and we need to help them!     Damn it, what difference does it make? In less than 24 hours...     Sotheby's tugging at his lapel speaks to something so familiar as to be almost an instinct; the hair-raising split-second dash ahead of a hail of bullets. It makes little difference that the projectiles are coins, here--James isn't bulletproof and Sotheby is considerably less so. Turning his back and holding her close in one motion, Bond is off like a bolt through the forest, his jaw set in determination as his feet fly inches ahead of the coins that spit up plumes of stubborn earth.     Eyes locked forward to the rush of oncoming trees and allies, he maintains a right angle to the harrowing zip-zip-zip, beelining to put first a few trees, then Riku's legs, then a final, sturdier looking trunk between them. A little disc of metal still rips past, grazing his ear and causing him to snarl in pain. His eyes are still locked on Sotheby, frantic, scanning to make sure she's unharmed.     There is a moment of frustration that threatens to boil upwards to the top, once the panic subsides--Bond shuts his eyes tightly and lets it pass with a sigh. The sounds of battle still fill the air all around them, a dull roar muted to a vague buzz as Bond struggles to explain to Sotheby how little time they have.     "Sotheby... I'll help with the Carbuncles, because I know you like them and don't want them in pain. But you have to promise me that you won't make any more decisions like this without asking first. And you have to promise that when you ask, you'll take 'no' for an answer, every once in a while."     "We have less than a day before we leave. Nowhere on Earth will be safe. Not for Carbuncles, or leprechauns, or people. Even then, there are bad people we need to find with the time we do have, in order to have a chance at things being alright again."     "Stay in cover, please." 'Stay here' is probably too much to ask, anyway.     Bond twists the bezel on his watch a second time, a soft click sounding as the payload changes inside. The same crosshair displays on the watch, but this time the carbuncles are in focus, between chaotic shifting frames of the group's close-range members in the fore- and background. Taking a knee, he waits for an opportunity and fires. A sharp 'thwip' sounds as something small glimmers in the muted light, traveling fast to collide with one of the larger carbuncles. The stun capsule shatters on impact, a mini-flashbang serving as a focused means of disorienting its target without altogether knocking it out--providing a window for someone closer to go for a grapple or gut punch.
Lilian Rook	'I'm told it was intentional. I have doubts as by whom.'     Lilian looks at Vertin with non-zero curiosity. The dissociative haze with something she hadn't question. Didn't have the right to question, really. Vertin's sudden resurface on that, of all things, takes her off guard.     Off guard enough to ball her fist tightly by her side, until the leather of her glove complains. "Of course it must've been an arcanist." Lilian hisses. She didn't even ask.     The feeling leaves in combat. Even without drawing her sword, an enemy is an enemy and a fight is a fight. Anyone would know if it weren't.     'Your array is highly visible, Sonetto. Stick to incantations for now.'     "Clarify." Lilian says. She's obviously settling in. She stops blinking to acquire targets. "Detection radius of arcanists within the Walden. Worst case estimate." Just in case, she cycles the modular array within her weapon with a twisting snap motion of her wrist and a different spark of magic. Her next few shots are lower yield, shaving off small slivers of amalgam and firing blackgold tracers that burst on impact.     'They're sick, Miss Moissan! Everyone, they're sick and we need to help them!'     'If these are stealing gold, that's to be expected; but a tummyache?'     Having been focused on cleaning up the Situation, Lilian had been ignoring Sotheby's quirky antics for a while, and left them to Ms. Moissan instead. It's Vertin's repetition of a fact she'd actually heard before that dredges up her focus enough to listen. She looks questioningly at Vertin, and says "Best guess? There's no way this much gold was just lying around in the forest. They haven't followed us from the manor; I'd have noticed, I'm certain." She pauses just for a trio of gunshots, chiarascuro lighting her face for three moments. "No, more importantly, who the hell are they copying? Nobody is eating solid gold. That's--"     Bellwhistle. Of course she's still thinking about Bellwhistle. Lilian opens her mouth, dull shock slowly sinking in on her face. But she doesn't dare speak it aloud. That's unbelievably stupid. There's no way.     'I'll get in and give them a squeeze then, and sweep away the gold.'     "Timekeeper." Lilian sighs, vocally exasperated. "We're not going to carry it with us are we? They'll just eat it again. More importantly, these Carbuncles aren't going in the suitcase." She doesn't say the rest, because she isn't certain that Sotheby is allowed to know.     'We have less than a day before we leave. Nowhere on Earth will be safe. Not for Carbuncles, or leprechauns, or people.'     Yeah. Like that.
Lilian Rook	Lilian would actually rather conserve combat resources until entering the Walden, just in case. She isn't too worried about Schneider if they're going to outnumber her ten to one, but there's no telling who or what else could be there. Before committing to raining precious bullets down on the rest, Lilian murmurs "Ach ansin arís." before--                 -----[stop]-----     "God I'm glad I keep these with me." Lilian says, as she double gloves latex over leather and pulls up to the wrist. She turns to the snarling carbuncle, posed mid-flight, teeth bared, picture perfect as a 3d model for a reel, and then reaches inside with a very unhappy grimace.     She's not going to squeeze them. That's stupid. And she'd probably pulverize them anyways. She wants to see this cursed gold for herself, and if she has to drag out a fistful like this, then a little discomfort and two sterile gloves is less expensive than prolonged combat.                 -----[start]-----     --she appears on the other side the carbuncle that'd leapt at her, clutching a fistful of golden glimmer as the rest overflows her cupped palms and scatters.     Are there sharpodonties? More likely, is there anything compelling the gold to be eaten. Lilian wouldn't even feel it if there were, but up close, she can at least scan them for any kind of distinct magical residue.
Ein	It's kinder that the overall approach o the sick critters was warning shots, treats, blasts of light and scattering sweeps of mild danger. 'Mild burned-wood danger' was available in every direction for throwing, and so was a strange tummyache-adjacent malaise that seizes in the Carbuncles and leads them towards the group as it is. The mild reaction - things like a flash of lights or even a sharp noise, and certainly treats - seem to defuse the critter groups its levelled on. Sometimes the Critters might need a good whack to dispel their ashen grumpus-ness, which Ms. Moissan is more than able to provided near Regulus and James as she tries to protect the young lady and her rocking friend. It mostly works out, with the drugged-food, but for the few peeled or pacified Carbuncles, several more are lurchingly, bitingly aggressive. And that's not to mention--! 'Bullets', from silvery quarter-dollars to a scattering of Sharpodonty, are fired, pennies scattering as spittle and nickles as buckshot loads that don't have the particular projectile velocity of a muzzle but nevertheless are launched from a snout of some variety with force. Ms. Moissan hits the deck as 'bullets' go whizzing by, a neat reaction but one she's half-up a moment after, head down and hand on hat, searching for where James had squirreled Sotheby. Regulus, even worse, could turn *invisible* and then how could Moissan keep track of *all* of her charges? This wasn't tutoring or operations - this kind of chaotic operation was a total mess! Shouldering up and pushing with pole of mallet, Moissan rebuffs several of the Ashbuncles accosting her with a scattering of pale clay dust off her chalked hands and a solid bonking over the head - causing them to spit out hairballs of shiny metal wire and things like buttons, the tablescraps of valuables and second order wealth. "This forest was *let* burn, by the city of Chicago. It was private land," Arcanist land. "And the city only stopped the fire from spreading into Chicago." Somber, Moissan explains, the grudge of the forest not quite bearing down in the current moment if only because of the surreal surrounds and the circumstance of the Storm about. With Ultraman Geed's ''armored'' form chasing the big Goldbuncle with a purpose, rolling back to the root platform-creature and picking up the big creature in his arms, it's like it will resist, not quite crying but struggling and yowling and being the whiniest baby creature that does NOT want to spit up, absolutely resistant to the idea and DEMANDING you do the mechanic first, petulant all up until Veronica batters a big chunk of tree into the belly of the beast (literal) and causes the cheeks of the round creature to puff up and bulge before something other than loose coins and wire pours out: it's a church feast, the sort of gold and candlesticks that might be gathered from a township parish and brought out for feasts and the special occasions. A goblet for Communion, all the bars and hanging of a single golden chandelier (wonder where that Carbuncle got mass? Look no further!), and a dozen silver candlesticks are sent spilling out like loot of the wrong sort, causing the deflated Carbuncle to mewl much more pitifully and seem Very Done with whatever it's doing. It also lacks the power to escape under its own power from Ultraman's arms, but them's the breaks for those that insist on mechanics. Meanwhile, Small and Medium of the Goldbuncles continue to spit violent barrages of bratty 'bullets', cycling up more and more value and thus larger or more dangerous ammunition with each cycle! Why, if the enemies got to go for 8 or more rounds you might even lose the two-star clear for this!
Ein	'Am I squeezing them right?' Popping up out of cover, sooty gloved hand perched over brow, Sotheby spies out her friend and squints carefully at the hugging-compression technique. "Use your fists, like Miss Odette does!" Sotheby calls, giving an enthusiastic pantomime of a fist-centered grip just as James yanks her back into cover as Peace Dollars impact the tree they're both hiding behind. "Get your fist up underneath the gizzard and squeeze it like a lizard!" Sotheby singsongs, *this* of all things re-exciting her, while Regulus manages to get the copper wiring and stomachfulls of shiny bobs out of the sick Carbuncle's insides, until she manages to prize a whole doorknob out of one particularly Rounded creature. 'If we can help them now, it'll slow the spread across other critters in the woods too.' "Of course!!!" Sotheby calls from behind stump as James 'Not The Father Who Figured But The Figure Who Fathered Up (in this situation)' Bond tries to keep Sotheby from being killed by Stormsick Critters. "The harmony of the Critters is most important for the health of any natural environment. Why, if--" Sotheby has words to share, but the Timekeeper's plan seems more than solid - it's the constant danger after one has de-gizzarded the Carbuncle's bellyfuls, they are drawn to consume anew, and it's Lilian's lamentation that's all but true. There has to be a solution, a permanent one, that doesn't terrorize or traumatize Sotheby, isn't there? Can't you all just... solve capitalism in this forest of ephemera? The ghosts hold their breath for this raking of magic-gutted Critters which can't help but sympathize with the world, and thus... Are mad to eat valuables, even at their own detriment. They feast at the scraps of the table of everything, from ash to copper and cable and half-dollars and witch-triangles. 'Stay in cover, please.' Sotheby looks down at herself, after being sternly talked to. It's not unkind, and even it's considerate, so she locks in as much as if Mr. Karson was telling her personally. He's got the voice for it. She watches and listens and tries to process, and then nods slowly. "You're an enemy of Jupiter too. Just like Typhon! Okay, I will." She nods, and then, Immediately peeks from cover, just in time to get herself startled by the same pops and flashes that cause the littler carbuncles to roll about dazed and shriek in startled fright, whining and blinded for seconds after. "You've got alchemy too, don't you? Are those Popping Poppers? Flash Jumps? The noble thunderstone? Oh I've been hoping to meet someone who uses *vintage* Thunderstones!" She gushes, before she sees-- In an instant, she sees Lilian reach for the 'Buncle, say a *special technique* and appear on the other side!! Holding the gizzardbloat!! "Wow! Wow!!! Look at Lilian, she's got the critter-gutter grabbers! Truly bona-fide, incredible!" Sotheby gasps with glee, clapping, as Lilian holds a grisly and blessedly unbroken glove full of loose wire, coins from 1920-1929, and a decent grip of Sharpodonties. For some reason, the Critters value them somewhere above a quarter but beneath a Peace Dollar. Is it the exchange rate? Are they doing that biologically?
Riku Asakura	Geed is surprised by what comes out of the large carbuncle with help from Veronica and her Baker and Seventh.  It seems that this carbuncle ate a LOT of things that certainly did not agree with it.  Geed gives Veronica a nod and a thumbs up, indicating it was a good teamwork maneuver.  However, it seems like it wasn't the end of the carbuncle's maneuvers.   More bullets are fired at the Ultraman, and while a few get through, causing sparks to shower the ground below him, and throw him to the ground, he manages to get a barrier up, deflecting the vast majority of the bullets away from his center of mass.  It is also apparent to him that this isn't working.  Not effectively! Inside Ultraman Riku grabs two more Ultracapsules.  "You go!" he says, activating one.  On it is the image of a blue giant of light.  "I go!" he says again, activating another Ultracapsule, with a different blue giant of light on it.  Pulling out the Fusion Riser, each capsule is scanned again.  "Here we go!" and each capsule causes a blue light and a gold light to shine in the double helix light on the Fusion Riser itself.  "I'll show you something shocking!" Then he brings the Fusion Riser down, across his chest and activates it.  Another booming "GEEEEEEED!" is released while blue flames pour out of his body.   FUSION RISE! ULTRAMAN HIKARI ULTRAMAN COSMOS ULTRAMAN GEED ARCO SMASHER! When the light fades, Ultraman Geed stands there, different than before.  His body is still silver, but now he is more blue than silver, and no more red is visible.  He moves differently now, much more graceful and careful, as he reaches both hands out and starts to charge something. Before anyone can say anything, a blue, wavy, and soothing water-based wave aims to wash over the Carbuncles, aiming to try and soothe their minds and break their chaotic sickness.  It might be temporary at best, and it might be useless, but right now the Timekeeper has a plan.  Worse, he can't face Sotheby again without trying to soothe the pain of these creatures.   "Smash Moon Healing!"
Regulus	Regulus's attempts to communicate during combat aren't going too well! She is going to have to find a way to read the operations manual so she can just sort of instinctively react to Sonetto's frankly unnerving arcane control in real time but until then, she can at least listen--she doesn't need to communicate in order to do that! First off, she gets some advice in how to make the carbuncles puke. Which she does. She's not sure she wants to harvest any copper wiring that came from someone's stomach just yet, she's not that desperate for things to macguyver with. But once she's done, she figures she ought to let them go, "Huh! You're right, Sotheby! That seems to do the trick! If they're going to keep shoving this stuff in their belly it might not solve the problem for long but so long as we--" She hesitates, something about this feels familiar. Didn't someone-- --ack, she can't think about that right now! Instead, she backpedals a little to commiserate with Sonetto and Vertin while looking over to Miss Moissan. "Well, that's bloody--..." She's angry. "I heard it was bad in this time before, but it's even worse than I imagined!... I may be a city girl, but you can't take something like that back!" She isn't exactly aware that Moissan considers her a 'charge' of hers as she tosses the doorknob as far as she can away from the critters to discourage them from shoving it back in their mouths. ''Regulus, could you cloak me and yourself with your arcanum?'' "Alright, I can do that--" She looks to Sonetto, "I think I've got a feel for your flow, a bit! Don't worry, I'll make sure to follow up. On my honor as a member of Team Timekeeper, alright?" Normally she would say 'pirate' but she's trying to use something she thinks Sonetto is more inclined to jive with. Teamwork! Cooperation! Trying to get on her good side! She raises a hand and places it on Vertin's shoulder. "Peace and Love, even for Critters." And then they both vanish from sight! Coins and other debris hit where Regulus was moments before, but she's already moved on, and even encouraged Vertin with a small push to stay moving as well. It's invisibility! Not invulnerability! Regulus moves between the Carbuncles, leaving little flashlight light spots on the carbuncles she's near rather than reveal herself to assist Sonetto in picking out carbuncles-- --and once Sonetto has slowed them down, she keeps for them! And trusts that Vertin will handle the followthrough!
Veronica	Veronica watches with awe and a little disgust as the largest carbuncle disgorges a chandelier, candlesticks, and more besides. "Where did they *find* all that stuff?" she wonders aloud.     <J-IC-Scene> Tamiel Luxis says, "We need to get rid of it all...But...How?"     <J-IC-Scene> Tamiel Luxis says, "If we don't they'll just keep gobbling it up again..."     <J-IC-Scene> Veronica says, "I can't *destroy* gold, but if someone else can I could try to gather it all up for them?"     <J-IC-Scene> Veronica says, "Sonetto, can you cover me with your shield?"     <J-IC-Scene> Sonetto nods to Veronica, "Understood. I'll have you covered."     Her part of the plan formulated, Veronica steps out from behind the tree. Immediately she's sprayed with coins of increasing size, and they thwup against her jacket or bonk on exposed skin. One beans her in the forehead, and she winces - but a moment later, she hardly seems mentally present at all! She's focusing, hard, and it soon becomes apparent where that attention is directed:     It starts with a metallic shivering, coins sliding across one another on the ground. They creep and roll through the soot and ashes, then every coin and piece of finery outside the carbuncles begins to wobble its way into the air. Slowly, Veronica brings her hands together, and the lifted-en-masse wealth coalesces into a rough ball that may well be the greatest collection of ornaments that Veronica's ever seen in person - after all, she only saw the stripped-bare exterior of Sotheby manor!     Holding the ball of metal in the air, she does her best to endure the coin-and-debris onslaught, trusting in Sonetto's shield to protect her - and the other Elites' firepower or Sotheby's alchemical techniques to break the accumulated material down into something less worth the carbuncles' while.
James Bond	You've got alchemy too, don't you?     "I didn't hear that promise," Bond says, knowing that he probably won't but putting a certain paternal testiness into it anyway. Maybe something will go right and she'll agree to, in exchange for being told about his gadgets.     Thwip. Thwip. Carefully placed, carefully timed shots from a limited resource, nearly at the edge of its effective range, isn't his ideal choice of situation for having a conversation with an excitable child. What keeps him composed is that he's used to making do--even if it's not this specific set of circumstances.     A number counts down, translucent, over the images of carbuncles in the fray, until the border turns yellow. Right when he's about to utter a complaint about the pace, it seems like the underlying issue--the gold--is being handled. Allowing himself only a slight sigh of relief through his nose, Bond holds his left arm out, palm facing towards Sotheby. "Keep behind me."     I can't believe the effort I'm going through for this. At the same time... Rising, he breaks into a run, twisting the bezel on his watch a final time, closing into the effective range of--     Thwip.     --tranquilizer darts. Assuming the largest of them to be the biggest eater and thus the biggest problem, he lets fly two more, just to be sure. Thwip-thwip. If nothing else goes right, I can say I did this small kindness.
Tamiel Luxis	Everyone is doing their best, emptying Carbunkle after Carbunkle onto the floor. Tamiel stopped to look over their handwork, and watched, in horror, as one of the carbunkles she'd just emptied began to hop back toward something its fellows had just barfed out. All that work to try to help them, and the carbunkles were doing everything they could to, immediately, reverse it. <J-IC-Scene>Tamiel Luxis says, "We need to get rid of it all...But...How?" <J-IC-Scene> Tamiel Luxis says, "If we don't they'll just keep gobbling it up again..." <J-IC-Scene> Veronica says, "I can't *destroy* gold, but if someone else can I could try to gather it all up for them?"     Something close to a plan coming together, Tamiel puts all her focus.     Closes her eyes.     Breathes out.     Disappears.     Many of the cats spitting at Vernoica found themselves seized from behind by shadowy figures, pumping fists into stomachs JUST SO, only to vanish when the spray of coins turned on them. In the near-darkness of the forest, full of shadows and under the depth of night, Tamiel could move with ease--along with her various doubles.     And every coin loosed from the carbunkles was caught up in Vernoica's pull, tugged up and away...!     Could Soethby get rid of the gold? Could someone, anyone--Shut up, shut up--keep moving-- Focus was a resource, and she had none to spare.
Odette Raskins	Upon squeezing the first Carbuncle in her hands, Odette quickly realizes she shouldn't be aiming their faces anywhere near anyone else. "Sorry! Oh gosh oh gosh I didn't mean to!" She calls out in apology to Sotheby and James as she hastily aims the dollar-spitting Carbuncle in her arms elsewhere, turning this way and that while desperately trying not to fire them off at anyone else by accident. Of course, with so many people in every other direction, the best she can do for a bit is aiming that Carbuncle at the ground, hunching over to keep giving it stomach-emptying squeezes while trying to control its outbursts. "Under the gizzard like a lizard... Got it!" Odette calls out again, not quite getting what Sotheby means there while still feeling like she gets the gist of it. "Come on, come on, just let it all out-no, don't eat that, shhhh..." Do Carbuncles understand human speech? She really hopes they do, but just in case? She's giving the money-vomiting creature little pats on the head, alternating between using both arms to squeeze it and bringing one up to just kind of rub her forearm over the entire top and front of its head. Getting shot at by who knows however many other Carbuncles is still a very real risk, of course, and using this one as a shield is out of the question if the goal is to calm these creatures down without hurting them. Against her better judgment, Odette starts hoofing it for one of those messed up (but still present) tree trunks while still carrying the Critter in her arms, shielding it from the oncoming shots with herself along the way. "Look at Lilian, she's got the critter-gutter grabbers!" "Owowow... The huh?" Another moment of confusion has Odette turning around, then quickly hunching over to keep that Carbuncle safe and also her allies safe from whatever else it might still be spewing out. Peeking up at Lilian's pile of retrieved coinage, she looks back down at the Carbuncle in her arms, then wrinkles her nose slightly as she remembers that doorknob Regulus got out of one just a bit ago. "Oh, right... Um-ow. You wouldn't have eaten something like that, too, would you?" Bracing herself for the worst, Odette adjusts her hold on the Carbuncle not unlike a vet trying to hold an uncooperative cat in place with her legs while getting both arms around it again. "Alright, easy does it... It'll just be uncomfortable for a little longer." She whispers quietly in direct contrast with yet more forceful fist-forcing squeezes to the.. Gizzard? Odette still doesn't fully understand Carbuncle anatomy, but she's pretty good at winging it. She even resorts to reaching directly into its mouth with her hand just to make sure she can get any blockages out, trusting in her Company-issued PPE to protect her from whatever might be lurking in its mouth!
Lilian Rook	Coins or bullets, this is combat; audio processing throws up the threatening sound alert and kinetic vision catches it a split second afterward; nerves fire as if from the elbow rather than the brain, and muscles do what they know to do, protecting the heart and head with the honed evolution of survival instinct that they've studiously memorized.     Lilian-- gun stowed, coins in hand, eyes narrowed on mintage of the US treasury and nameless arcanists of a time long past-- turns, lowers, grasps, draws, and strikes faster than thought. Trusting her arm, her eyes make the decisions; they pick out each piece of glittering silver and gold in flight, gauge their depth, draw the constellation of lines in sequence between them, and her hand follows. 'Slower than bullets' doesn't trip the line where the impossible answers on instinct. The coins seem to rattle off the air in front of her instead; clattering and jingling and spinning off every which way in lumps and pieces, embedding into the dirt and trees and nowhere within six feet of her.     It looks like magic, until Lilian rests her arm; then the flickering traces of black-painted air shudder together in blade-shaped vibrato and snap to a dead halt in front of her. The coins she dropped hit the ground.     Holding Night Mist puts her in a different state of mind. Her eye trace the perfect line through the carbuncles that would cut through all of them without stopping, then they drop down to the coins scattered in the dirt, then two thoughts click together, and Lilian breathes into the fog,     "Liomsa uile na fuílleach Ama."     Like machine gun fire, a score of Lilians strafe the carbuncle mob east-west. A scatter of afterimages drive the same hilt into an entire line of stomachs, as if Sotheby's singsong advice were a tactical designation. The glittering treasure being spewed into the air all around her vanishes. The remaining wealth on the ground, too. More thoroughly encompassing than even the strikes, it's as if everything that glitters and shines were erased in a one-click object despawn; something so abrupt that the brain tries to fill in some kind of single frame of visual effect between.     Ash and dirt kicks up into the low branches where Lilian stops. She should be disoriented at least, completely nauseated at worst, but what she's focused on is regulating her breathing and shaking off her hands one at a time. She tilts her neck to look, flicks her wrist at Veronica and drags her finger up; it lands on where the giant Coin Ball, mysteriously vanished, is actually just below upper tree level now; and about twice the size. She'll be so mad if Veronica fucks up and drops it.     "How far can you throw it?" says Lilian. "There's no point melting it down at this point, is there? It'll take forever."
Timekeeper	"Of course it must've been an arcanist."     Vertin smiles thinly at Lilian. "We're on the same page, then."     That's certainly part of the reason why that comment was what dragged Vertin into the conversation, but there's more to talk about here. Unfortunately, there's carbuncles, so the moment's passed! "Worst case estimate."     "This is just about the furthest I could notice the Walden, when it was quiet and still." Vertin is notably stupid cracked at this one specific talent, of noticing, but if anyone had someone comparably sensitive to them it would be the Manus Vindictae. Both of those tidbits go unspoken, but she assumes Lilian's thinking along the same lines as her, given how often it happens.     "There's much more arcanum layered in the Walden than an individual, so for a simple incantation, I'd estimate fifteen minutes maximum." That's not really a distance, but Vertin's thinking in a particular way right now. "They haven't followed us from the manor; I'd have noticed, I'm certain."     "Yes," She agrees instantly. "Which suggests there must be other sites similar to the manor in the time since. We're still early, however." The bright red leading 2 in the watch on her wrist is still going strong. "Nobody is eating solid gold. That's--"     "It could be for the sense of ownership-- carbuncles often have dens, but not always-- or could be an ill omen. Keep it in mind for now." Whatever the case is with Bellwhistle, she has only a few short hours to find the other telephone operators, and a few long hours to endure whatever the Storm Syndrome brings onto her. "On my honor as a member of Team Timekeeper, alright?"     "Understood." Sonetto nods while raising her glasfeder, like a starter pistol. That's so uncomplicated!!! From a battle-focused Sonetto, such a gesture of simple cooperation and reliance... to little old Regulus... she must truly think of Regulus as a member of Team Timekeeper! At least, when Vertin tells her to coordinate. But it's something! "We're not going to carry it with us are we?" "Nowhere on Earth will be safe. Not for Carbuncles, or leprechauns, or people."     "We're not, but keep in mind, we'll be exiting into this same forest in a matter of time." Vertin has her arms wrapped around a carbuncle, fists laced and thumb cocked under the gizzard in an impeccable depiction of the technique Sotheby's advising. "Letting the Storm Syndrome spread unchecked will make the critter population far more dangerous when the time draws closer."     With a squeeze and a pop, a veritable fountain of coins blubbers out of the poor little critter. It droops in Vertin's arms, but only for a moment, before it recovers from the powerful squeeze and begins gnashing its teeth at the spit-up treasure, and at Vertin for holding it back. She keeps her grip on it while it thrashes, as Sonetto conjures up a gleaming barrier that orbits Veronica and the coins float slowly away.
Timekeeper	"Where did they *find* all that stuff?"     "It looks like a church!" Sonetto can't possibly discern how literal Veronica is being with that question, and so as is her habit, she assumes completely. "Likely Catholic by its appearance. This would allow us to narrow down where similar hot spots of Syndrome activity are beginning to occur if we were to cross reference it with a demographic distribution of neighbourhoods. It seems Timekeeper was correct." "I heard it was bad in this time before, but it's even worse than I imagined!"     "Remember why we're fighting," Vertin says to Regulus in a distant-mild kind of way, angled like faint praise. For the forest, to move forwards and regrow; for civilization to move forwards and learn to be better than this, which even Regulus's era was proof of. She stands up and swipes the sticky coin-goo off of her pants, where Veronica's telekinesis didn't get all of it.     Then, invisible again, the same pattern of Regulus's lights directs where Sonetto's incantation aims towards, and then the binding poetry freezes a carbuncle in place for Regulus to tackle. The teamwork actually functions repeatably, until the collaborative efforts of the whole cluster of Elites has emptied the little whiny babies of all of their poisonous wealth.     Imperceptibly brightened in mood, not too dissimilarly to how Sotheby's demeanor has improved a lot, Vertin gently pets the side of a squeezed-carbuncle's head, calming it after barfing to purr confusedly in her arms. "Shh, remember. The unequal accumulation of wealth along one pole of society indicated degredation along the other."     She stands up and points south, angling a little bit away from where the Walden will be. "Toss it away from the city limits, there. It'd cause havoc in the city." '
Regulus	''Remember why we're fighting.'' "I didn't forget." Regulus promises, though she does flinch as if she'd been admonished. "I won't, either." Someone has to shout and feel it, don't they? Otherwise it goes nowhere but deeper down. But at least it doesn't effect the work. Where philosophy falters, loyalty and trust remain. In truth, she would have probably preferred to avoid this altogether and just snuck off with the cat, but instead--they got to help the carbuncle and the cat at the same time. One more reason to put her trust in the captain. Of course, Regulus assumes she made a much bigger connection to Sonetto than Sonetto probably feels. She brushes her forehead of sweat as she reappears once the work is done. She watches Vertin soothe the carbuncle for a while before she lets out a little laugh that grows into a big laugh as she wipes at her eyes. "...I mean, how could I forget with you charting the path, making it clear all the way where we're going."
Veronica	Vertin: "Toss it away from the city limits, there. It'd cause havoc in the city."     <J-IC-Scene> Veronica says, "Toss... the gold? Are we sure the Walden won't notice?"     <J-IC-Scene> Regulus says, "Probably not fast enough, love, they've gotta be busy during the Storm too."     "Fair 'nuff," Veronica says, a little distracted by the effort of holding the mass of wealth together in the air. She brings her clasped hands right up to her chest, then shoves forward and up toward the orb with a little jump, as if setting an invisible volleyball. "Hup!"     There's a bit of a clattering as the sustained force on the mass is converted to a brief spike of energy, hurling the tangled chandelier-pieces and aggregated coins up, up into the sky and far off toward the city limits, per Vertin's instruction. If the Manus see anything from their roost at the Walden, hopefully it's just a brief twinkle in the darkening sky.     "Phew," Veronica says, taking a moment to catch her breath as the critters are driven off. Then: "Hey, Sonetto?"     Veronica walks up to the Timekeeper's assistant and offers a fist-bump. "Thanks for the shield. Did me a real solid there." If Sonetto doesn't reciprocate the gesture - or doesn't know how - she receives a gentle bop on the shoulder.
Ein	While there is a battle for the soul of the forest that's fought here, under ghostlight and the forest-echo mist that hangs thickly, there is also a battle in the more literal sense - fought bravely amongst the noble warriors of Team Timekeeper and their allies. . . And tumby grumby Critters who were struck with the affliction of the falling Era. It would be easy and expedient to have sliced through this place with beams of light and bright cannonade, but that would have given up the surprise you held over the Walden, and, something else. Certainly, the shine in Sotheby's eyes, which remains brilliant even as James must manage her while Ms. Moissan is pinned down by duty and rapid-fire Sharpodonty helping Regulus. It's okay when student-types don't know they're being instructed. If anything, keeping Regulus around might make Sotheby more likely to follow and behave! ... Ms. Moissan thinks, knowing nothing. "It's said the woods are haunted, but --" Moissan begins, trying to instruct, but Regulus disappears on a mission, and really, there wasn't a better indication to her commentary but the present danger of the circumstance entirely located within almost whimsical issues. The incessant and needful gobbling of valuables, and these creatures of dust rolling up the tablescraps of that - incidental gold and coinage. While Regulus, Vertin, and Sonetto engage in a great team-up to sweep up and squeeze out the loose brass and copper wire from the ashy Carbuncles and kicking the results away or sweeping them up, Veronica begins to gather and gather, disobeying 'magnetics' for a more pure kinetics that draws all the little coins and scraps and wire and candlesticks together into a ball that some of the critters lazily snap at and others are discouraged away from and take to that, shaking off the mirage of the Storm and leaving without further yowling complaint. The Goldbuncles were clumped up by this particular circumstance, the engorgement of valuables and the Syndrome specifically, and need advanced techniques to be used on them, which are made massively easier by the kind actions of James as he spends down valuable supplies of his to tranquilize and calm the centerpiece malaise-leaders of the issue in the forest. Vertin and Odette nurse their Carbuncle charges gently, at least between extracting the coins and buttons and doorknobs from them, and the more that the coins are removed the calmer the creatures become until they are downright docile and pet-like if squirmy when cooed at and spoken to gently, and all of this greatly delights Sotheby with a "Yes!! Exactly that!! Wow! Good job!!" and subsequent clapping. Even if Odette gets a little champy chomp. She's fine! That company PPE is definitely Xenobio rated, right? While Tamiel gathers coins and Lilian disappears into a supernatural flicker of afterimages, collocational moments that left tearing across the skein of seconds, until she snaps back into place and the pile is bigger still, hanging overhead, in the hanging misty spectral treetops, bending the false light around it. It drips, and you hope it's not colored goo (it's drool, but the light bends in ways the lind leads in), and... Gwendolyne Vera Sotheby is entirely entranced with the most marvelous (Q-Branch) watch on James' hand with the digital face and the little displays and-- "Good sir, you have the most mar-velous watch! It's nothing like a pocket-watch at all! Is it a wand-watch? A broom? It swept me, hehe!" Sotheby giggles at her joke, entirely missing the entire hanging ball of issue. On her shoulder, a black stuffie points up and taps her on the cheek to remind her, becoming more and more insistent with the time passing as Sotheby is entirely consumed by 'wowwwwwww, what's that???' to the exclusion of all other things.
Ein	Then something more interesting happens right as Sotheby says "Well, you really do seem to want it, and," but 'I promise' never escapes her as something *else* escapes *Riku*. 'Smash Moon Healing!' The concentrated healing energy, which begins as something aimed at the Carbuncles, expands, targeting the wound here. And, Yes, the creatures are sick. They aren't meant to eat gold and worse the coins are covered in filth and even creatures of dust don't eat pennies and nickels for health. But making them express out their treasure and balling it up too high to reach is enough to sort that. But,         something is hurt here. The Smash Moon Healing diffuses out, glowing through the mist in a motion of cosmic-nebula twilight dappled with fireflies of energy. The magic in the air -- the Storm -- carries this. It works, though, It's not clear why or how. But, for now, Sotheby-- '"Phew," Veronica says, taking a moment to catch her breath' Sotheby looks up from crouched behind a stump looking at the diffusing moment of restoring moonlight, and then blinks something out her eyes and looks and goes: "Ahm... Was there something you wanted Sotheby to look at?" MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE CHICAGO: . . . B A N G ! Surely nobody heard that.
Riku Asakura	The soothing beam of Smash Moon Healing defuses into the forest, washing over both the carbuncles, but something else.  For a moment, the entire forest seems... Less spooky.   That's good!  Ultraman Geed looks around himself, feeling the pressure of the place change, and it seemed it was for good.  More than that, it seems that the carbuncles are no longer shooting gold at them, so with that, Geed releases the transformation and returns to being Riku again.   "I think we did it!" he says, happy that the poor critters will be calmer now.  Even if... well, the storm is still coming, nothing can change that.  They need to get to the Walden now.