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"Wow, you're so strong, Mr. Kircher," America commented breathily, as if she might faint at any moment.

Over his shoulder she mouthed <******** off, at Leslie and made a bitchy face before limply wrapping her arms around Lucky's neck.

Joy gave Clyde a confused look before glancing around. There was no one (at least no one close enough) there. Well except that giant centipede that Joy was doing a good job of letting it live!

She placed a hand on Clyde's forehead, as if to check his temperature, "You oks there? There ain't anyone but you, pre."

Sam gave her a look like she was crazy. "You're thinking about quests at a time like this?" No, now was the time to be studying, drinking in what she could. It was a perilous landscape, but it was fraught with information to be digested and memorized, once she had time to compile it all. "What is wrong with you? This isn't a game."

You've a use for me already, she crooned, sweet and soft and low. How exciting! Gently, Tay insisted on her corporeal form, and Han leaned into it, breathing in deep. It stank of fire and rot and the dryness that could only come from a desert.

His bow-- Octavia, Tay-- materialized from naught and in his hands she felt warm, almost alive.

I am alive, she insisted, and tugged his attention to the bugs beneath the sand. But I would prefer to stay that way. Wouldn't you?

Han drew back on the taut string of his bow and loosed an arrow of pure energy, red as sin and sharper than a knife. It pierced the carapace of the first centipede, cleaving it in two.

"Ho-lee s**t," he murmured, and the next arrow missed.

Focus, she snapped, but Han knew her, in bond if not in words. Knew that she had never seen combat beyond a spar, knew that she was full of wonder and bloodlust both. She broadcasted it so loud in his mind it was hard to ignore.

Okay, okay. Han closed one eye and aimed again, the bowstring creaking as he pulled it too far. The arrows landed, leaving him triumphant, and he jumped and whooped in accordance to his own success.

hp: 30
dmg: 8, 0, 8, 6
mob hp: 0

Tyra shook her head because she couldn't even speak. She'd been fine with gore in games and movies, but seeing someone get their hand cut off and the ensuing blood and mess had traumatised her. The callousness of other people also had jarred her, even Aiden coming to her over the wounded person felt wrong to her. She'd seen a man having a heart attack in the street once and people had just walked past.

"Can we help?" she said through the tears.

"Weren't both of them on our side? I don't understand."

And she moved to Cami's side, with no idea how to help but wanting to. She knew CPR but that didn't help here, it didn't stop bleeding.

This is complete and utter chaos! The centipede seemed to be done with attacking but now the tent was on fire! What even!? They were still in there!?! HELLO!?!

◺OUT. OUT. NOW!!!◿ She could've REALLY done without that right now.

"s**t! We gotta go. NOW!" Instincts were on high as Sonja resorted to hanging her tonfas around her neck via the chain that connected them and pulling on Tobin, dragging him out of the engulfing tent lest they become one of the charred corpses that had been there before them.

Someone had run up and grabbed the other chick that had been stung by the surprise-Centipede. She used her free hand and grasped the other side of the girl to make the dragging a little faster. Not like the fire was going to wait for them or nothing.

"You can say that again."

In the real world you could follow the chain of actions - > consequences but for the members of Deus Ex Machina there were sometimes consequences for no seeming reason. Lawrence bleeding out on the sands did not fit that mold but Camille did not understand her mother looking at her like she had just slit the blond man's throat instead of tried to save him.

Her head was a pounding war drum of Kidana's endless chanting: This is justice. This is justice. This is justice.

She was fourteen. Everyone around her was older, more experienced, but she was the one sitting there with blood flooding the white of her coat and tears stinging at the corners of her eyes as she felt more and more helpless. "I...I need a belt." She turned to Tyra first. "Do you have a belt? Can you check if he does? I don't want to move my hands." Moving her hands meant less pressure. Meant death.

Then, raising her face to Caroline she became a bit of a lost child, on the edge of wailing. "What did I do? This?" She looked down to her hands, only for a second. "Why wouldn't I? I...I'm not sure I could live knowing anyone died because of me. Because I did nothing. Even him, Ama. Even him." And as her voice broke the tears did too but she tried, like a valiant soldier, to contain them.

But she was only fourteen.

Roland looked up, past all the people in a panic or worry about what had just happened around Lawrence, he spotted Brittney marching over mouthing off about trying to ditch her, "We don't have time for this Brittney!" He looked back at Tyra and Cami. Without another word her started to work at the belt that kept his slightly over-sized shorts on secure.

He thrust a hand towards Cami holding the belt up. Then paused, "W-where do we wrap it?" Cami had just said she needed to keep her hands where they where and Roland tried not to look at them soaked in blood as he looked farther up Lawrence's arm.