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(Elevator Rolls -- Team Cabbage/Viceroy Roll: 3 , Team Morning Cloak/Spicebush 4)

General Prehnite
Action: Making for the Elevator with his team in tow! Telling some scrabbling Youma to back off~
HP: 90/100
Rolls: Youma Command = 10 , Elevator Run = 3 (+1 Leadership Bonus)
Taxane's Fire: x2
Med Kits: x3
Strange Unrelenting Guise: Still Looking Like A Traitor Knight!

Prehnite glanced back at the sound of Hylonome's voice, any thoughts on his mind caught in a new breath as the area exploded with spear strikes aimed elsewhere, and then? A frenzy of youma. "We'll deal with it all after, we're making for the elevators now!"

It seemed he didn't need to tell them to do so. They were smart, sensible, and Jet's orders were more than enough. Even if they were all seperated into smattered parts and pairs. Jet's words rang clear over the coms. Certainly those orders were enough for *him*, no puzzle was worth dying for. Nor losing a team for, nor --- any other number of horrible outcomes he could begin to imagine.

He lay a cast of Taxanes Fire at some of the youma who dared -- and made a middling attempt to manage more that barreled his and the other Senshis way - then blanched at the sight of more weapons springing their way - cast by the general of a distant past driven into madness.

b*****d. Aiming at them while they were down.

"Psilomelane! Get yourselves up and let's go before he lobs another--I've got you're backs, just get them moving." He noted Hylo had taffetite well in hand, how dedicated Psilo was to ensuring they made it to the lift without bleeding out. A blessing. Clearly, though, he had to leave too, faster than he was. Especially since their myriad of forced guises were disturbing the General further -- gods knew why -- if this was even their place to begin with.

To many of their own were Senshi, Staright up treats, and to many of the rest were touched by magic that made them enemies apparent.




Lieutenant Zultanite
Action: Making for the Elevator!
Rolls: Galavorn Dodge = 8 , Elevator = 4
HP: 50/50
Special Items: Agent Mace from Cosmos Area (+2 Damage), Combat Bonus (+1)
Med Kits: x3

He wasn't even gonna try n manage wrangling the youma. Knew it'd be about as affective as spitting in the wind, managing the dodge at all was a straight up miracle, but from the Go he'd been watching the General with all sorts of queasy caution - neckhairs on the back of his head up. The only thing to do after that? Was to make his way brazenly for the elevator while using the mace to brace him against the bombardment of youma bodies, well, that s**t was only ******** sensible at that point.

Catching Kama sucking the light outta the place though--

It set his teeth on edge but he didn't stay n stray and detract from what was being done by the rest. There we're enough generals around to work on getting gone.

As Jet, Aquamarine, and Seraphinite attacked the youmafied General, he made his attempts to dip and duck and dodge out of the way. One of the attacks struck him hard enough that he fell to the ground, his vital sign temporarily unreadable to the database. It was then that tiles deployed off the floor, rising six inches to begin spraying a magical gas that would send all breathing entities in the room into a choking fit. It would become clear that, if they spent more than minutes in the chambers, they would lose consciousness.

For those that escaped first, the elevator made quick work of transport, taking a dozen injured agents and senshi up with each round. As more agents and senshi went up to the top of the building, more of the youma concentrated on the dwindling number that were left behind. Galvorn, too, had joined them in hunting those that remained, while the youma that heeded the commands to wait stared quizzically at their brethren. By the time the last agents and senshi left the area, Galvorn's chambers had become a din of inhuman laugh and cry.

As the last groups ascended the elevator, that cacophony faded with every floor. By the time they reached the zenith of the shaft, they could no longer hear the collected youma down below. The upper chamber was silent, for Galvorn had not seen fit to call the elevator back down to join them.

The initial zone that they breached, an area fitted with obsidian walls and metal tracks that held lengths of those light-burdened cords, was notably smaller than much of the rest of the factory. Having seen the other portions of the facility, this one looked more like a cleaned-out maintenance area where rubble and tool alike had dislodged from their locations. In the corner sat the empty tube that once held a General, and before that, a power source that was likely lost to time. A few lights that hadn't been crushed by debris were still active beneath their feet, adding an ominous orange glow to the area. Apart from their own voices, the only company they had in that location was the rush of fire through delicate tubules.

It was a safe haven, with only the slow ascent out of the hole preventing them from joining up with their base camp. It was here that they could see to wounds and develop another plan for addressing the problem of Galvorn's chambers, or it was here that they could call the mission and leave the chambers to the youma that guarded them. They had time. They had hours.

Some may have dozed while others argued. Some may have seen to the wounded, with practiced hands setting to work knitting together flesh with needle and thread. Some may have devised plan after plan as they bided their time. Some may have called the mission for themselves, choosing instead to return to the surface and the Citadel in the distance.

Faustite was among those who slept, overtaken by his own exhaustion. As he lay prone on the ground, the building's energy reserves ticked down, their timers expiring hours as they passed. Eventually, they had an hour left in the building's power, then forty-five minutes, then a half hour. The time for decisive action drew close, down to a razor thin margin. Then the lights turned overly bright as a glow rushed up the bundles of light, into the ceiling where they disappeared once again.

Those who kept an eye on their power would note that the readout now said 999 hours, 99 minutes of power. Those who worked on the injured would notice the lighting far more adequate for their careful tasks.

Faustite was jerked awake. He struggled to his feet, his blaze stoked unnaturally bright, and his attention shifted about the room, looking puzzled. Combed over the officers at work. Then, wordless, he returned to the elevator and tapped the console to descend to Galvorn's chambers once again. Seeming dazed, he did not care who joined him in the descent.

When the elevator reached Galvorn's chambers, they found that the gathered youma had left. Perhaps that was to be expected, for a count of hours with no real stimulation may have had them looking elsewhere for opportunities. They were the only ones that could cross the Rift's landscape in an instant; perhaps they used their own portals to leave this place behind.

The traps in the floor that sprayed the place down had either run out of payload or had been deactivated. The tiles were back in place.

Galvorn, too, was gone. Where he had once stood proud in defense of the place had lain but a scattering of dust, a single sword, and a ring looped on a chain. Near the elevator, the glass floor that once housed a great repository of information had shattered, creating a walking hazard for those who were unsteady on their feet. When the database was destroyed, the turrets in the ceiling lost connection and hung without tracking any targets.

If they descended with Faustite, then Benitoite, Cymophane, Taenite, and Arsenopyrite would find the research area heavily altered. The easels full of papers were knocked down and the workbench was overturned. Numerous boxes were opened, revealing a number of weapons inside — swords, spears, maces, flails, cudgels — but it seemed none were what the rifler was looking for. Very little was left of the research, but perhaps something remained.

The med bay was left untouched from when Taaffeite, Hylonome, Psilomelane and Valeria were inspecting it.

The strangest new discovery was that a hole had opened up in the wall behind the research area. It was as though the wall turned transparent, for a fine forcefield remained to indicate that a wall had truly been there. Those approaching it would find that it would not turn away Negaverse signatures from entering it, though all else may have been barred from entry. Inside was a simple, cylindrical room with a large crucible in its center. Those who inspected the ornate dagger would find similar writing across the wall of the crucible and atop its lid. To the side of the room, shoved against the wall, was a simple metal-and-glass desk with disheveled papers across the top. Curiously, there were no knightly symbols decorating this room.

Super Taenite
Roll: 6 + 1 (recon)

“Don’t call him an idiot,” Taenite warned the Mauvian. But even with a wink, Taenite didn’t seem like he was in the mood for his normal joking around. There was a somber stillness that had fallen over the chamber, and while there was still much to investigate, he couldn’t help but wonder what secrets had been lost with Galvorn.

He’d followed Faustite down, of course. He’d quietly watched him rest from across the way. Taenite had been a good little Senshi, and he still planned on following orders. But he’d kept his distance long enough.

No longer in his youma form, Taenite approached the area where Galvorn must have been. He saw the Mauvian eyeing it, but while Tama grabbed Faustite’s arm, Taenite reached for the ring, lifting it by the chain in case it was one of those fake rings from before. Somehow, he doubted that.

Lt. Andesine
Investigating the disheveled papers. (4 + 1 (recon) = 5.)

The retreat had left a sour, rueful taste in Andesine’s mouth. Reminded her all too clearly of what she’d joined the Negaverse to avoid feeling. Out of nowhere, Monoceros had come careening out of the shadows, ready to handle a youma who had not gone down after Sable had tazed it on her solitary walk home. And even though her idea hadn’t worked—it had ostensibly only pissed the youma off, not that Andesine entirely blamed the little guy—Monoceros had liked her spunk. Had seen something of promise in her, something of potential value. Seen something that had made it worth the effort of taking her to General Ashanite.

Hadn’t required much work on either of their parts to sell her on the Negaverse. Neither of them had even really vocalized what Sable had wanted out of this—talked around it or in its vague direction, maybe, but they hadn’t needed to say it. Not when Andesine could perfectly hear its pitter-patter subtext padding underneath everything that General Ashanite and Monoceros had offered: options. Possibilities. A way out of situations like with Helena, where all the power lay in the hands of a woman who’d been born into obscene wealth, used those generational riches to accrue even more obscene wealth without doing very much of anything, and threw girls away like nothing about them mattered—in the hands of someone who manifestly did not deserve that power—and where all Sable could do was roll over because no one would have taken her side anyway.

Made her stomach turn, feeling any of that come rushing back to her, not least since it wasn’t fair for her to feel that way. None of the superior officers in the Negaverse had earned their positions by accident. None of them, as far as she knew, had been born into it or promoted despite appalling incompetence just to get them out of the field. Disagreeing, even powerfully, with one call that someone above her made didn’t make this anything like what had happened with Helena—and anyway, Andesine had had choices, down in General Galvorn’s chambers. She could have chosen to stay and fight instead of doing what she’d done, choosing to follow orders and leave, lest she get herself into deeper trouble than she’d even begun to imagine.

Temporary blow to the pride in exchange for a hopefully easier day tomorrow, or whenever it became important that she have gotten someone to associate her name with reliability and respect for the chain of command.

The glow rushing up through the bundles of wires, blessedly, snapped Andesine out of quietly keeping to herself, trying to avoid stepping out of any lines, whether spoken or unspoken, that might have exacerbated any hypothetical future trouble waiting for her.

Then, to see General Faustite snap awake and head for the elevator—well. He may not have been her General, but he was the General who’d organized this mission. Judging from how certain members of Team Question Mark had previously interacted with him and each other (the way Eternal Albite had called General Faustite “Firebrand,” in particular, stood out in Andesine’s memory), they were members of his team.… Maybe they still counted more as colleagues than anything else, but Andesine wouldn’t change that by not being ready to spring into action and see their General’s mission completed.

She wouldn’t be able to stand herself if she didn’t truly give her all to the first big mission she had actually volunteered for, rather than being abruptly kidnapped on while otherwise minding her own damn business.

So, she readily made for the elevator, taking it down and looking lively. Half of her expected to find Galvorn still in his wroth, but—no. All that remained of the General-turned-Youma was a pile of dust and some of his personal effects. Leaving the Mauvian and a senshi room to investigate those pieces, Andesine made for the new room that had seemingly opened up behind the research area.

Barely noticing the forcefield as it allowed her to pass, she eyed the crucible. No doubt, an important piece to scrutinize, but Andesine did not think herself the one to do it. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t have known the first thing about what she was looking at, over there. Much better, then, to devote her energies to the shoved-aside desk and its mess of papers. Metallurgy and weaponsmithing, she knew nothing about, but Andesine had reviewed more than enough paperwork in her life. This, she knew how to handle.

(for the post above because i forgot dice exist)

General Faustite
HP: 85/100
Magic uses: 2/2 (offensive); 3/3 (enhancement)

When Tama grabbed his arm, Faustite flinched. He spared a glance at Tama, then at Tama's arm, then sniffed. The touch was grounding in ways he hadn't expected; instead of wondering about what had jerked him awake, or wondering about what was wrong with himself, he was back to being aware of how other people interacted with him. That he was a hazard, and now someone on his team was going to be dipping into the team's nigh-infinite supply of bacitracin if he didn't move his hand five seconds ago.

Granted, the sleeve helped deaden some of his heat. Faustite still jerked his arm away from Tama before Tama headed off to Galvorn's pile of dust. His attention followed the Mauvian for a while, studying him, before Faustite followed his own path.

Taenite was there, too, joined up with Tama. He gave that boy a lidded stare; he hadn't forgotten how friendly they got with each other during the briefing. Still, he couldn't force his face to make mouth sounds so soon after waking up. To make up for it, Faustite patted Taenite's clothed shoulder as he passed.

Another Mauvian came to join them (Bellalunae). Seemed like the three might have a fight to the death to see who would be taking that home.

He glanced at Galvorn's remains, too, and that drove out any mirth. He imagined there would be some long conversations waiting for him in the Rift, if he managed to find the ex-General again. He expected there would be some days yet before he would reform, and much confusion thereafter. He supposed Galvorn would find a new dynamic with Forgemaster now.

Faustite let his feet deliver him wherever they would, wandering without aim in the twilight of his daze. They took him to the new room that had opened since their departure, past a Lieutenant and a Super Senshi that he recognized as Jet's. Borax was there, looking at a… Pot. Faustite strode to a stop next to him. He said nothing as he looked on at it, but the pot had given him an uneasy sense in a way that also elated him. He couldn't explain why, just as he couldn't explain how he was jolted awake with so much energy crashing into him.

A couple weak coughs escaped him as he inspected the glass top to the pot, a long fingernail tracing each of the strange glowing symbols embedded in it. Faustite furrowed his brow. That other General — Chelonium — he'd bequeathed a dagger to Galvorn that bore something similar, he thought.

Summoning the effort to unstick his tongue, Faustite brought up the mic function of his tablet. "Has anyone found a dagger with strange symbols?"

Lt. Ransomite
leaving?
1d10 + 2 (recon bonus) = 7
HP: 50/50

Before Ransomite was able to spot the man clothed with blackened swiss cheese himself, it seemed that said man found them first. Ransomite offered a light, "hey," that drew sharp contrast to the true feelings underneath. He swallowed down any further concerns for the sake of seeming normal to their newest company.

Yep. Absolutely normal. Absolutely and fully dedicated to the Negaverse.

Most normal, dedicated agent ever, Ransomite.

Ransomite closed his eyes on the ascent up the lift until it brought them to a room full of tubes that reminded him of the ones they had smashed to protect them against turrets. Thankfully, there were no turrets in here.

The thought came unbidden that it was almost a pity.

Ransomite sat himself to the side of the room, closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath. He was tempted to take his leave, but the continued presence of others on the mission prevented that and kept him quite solidly where he was. He could not afford anything that drew attention to himself.

The quiet was a comfort. In some ways, he could pretend this was the rectory.

He prayed. To an unnamed god, he prayed.

He prayed until uneasy dozing claimed him and until he saw the light, which briefly jolted a wry laugh out of him as it woke him. Ransomite swallowed that back down too as he saw several head toward the lift.

Ransomite supposed his duties were not quite over.

Pity.

He rose, brushed himself off, and descended down the lift himself. The chaos of earlier had dispersed here. In some areas, the chaos had seemingly only increased.

It was with careful steps that he approached the research area, looking to see if he could spot anything interesting or valuable in the boxes.