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Deep inside the belly of the beast, Jerry floated amongst Joyful stomach acids and God-knew what else, but it was ok because he was really drunk and really unconscious and had no idea what was going on.

His suit, unfortunately, had seen better days. He would need a new one.

RIP, brown suit he arrived in.

Apparently stomping towards the creature and bellowing for it to simply "go the bloody hell away" did not actually work, since the next second Gale found himself nursing a rather nasty cut to his arm.


[ Taking damage!

HP: 12/50 ]

(Roll for damage)

That was a little better. Not much -- not as much as she'd have hoped. But then again, what had she been expecting, from a little petit four? Exhaling slowly, Petra planted a palm firmly on the table, leaning against it as she recovered a little, not just from the physical injuries, but from the entire emotional strain that had been this night, strung along further by that goddamn JOY potion. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, and really, she just wanted to sleep. Maybe take a day to just lay in bed. But sleep was impossible in this god-forsaken place, just like one night without complete and utter chaos was just as impossible. Even for the holidays.

Another sigh, a little more tired than the first, passed over her lips, and finally the moon-trainee straightened, snapping her body around to reface the monster, her eyes trained on those sharp teeth grinding together threateningly. The other trainees lunged at it, tearing at the wrapping paper fiercely, but it seemed to be doing very little in the way of actual damage. Gritting her own teeth, she tightened her fingers on the handle of her mace. And then, she noticed it. The mother of all gifts opened its mouth, and there, in its gut, she could see two limp forms inside. Petra's breath caught, body tensing just from the implication, from the instinctive horror of being devoured, her face tightening into a mortified grimace. Damn that thing. But she couldn't attack, not now -- she was too weak, Cain feeling heavier in her hands than she'd ever felt him before. The urge to lean her palm back against the table again was strong, but she resisted, watching helplessly from the side, frozen.

And then she saw it.

Brown jacket... plum ruffles...

"J-Jerry? Candace?!" she spoke to no one, her voice climbing and octave, shock and panic tinting her voice. Visions of the decomposing flesh, devoured by the desert creature during the Sahara mission, flashed into her mind, and she retched a little, fear and nausea swirling in her gut, cold washing over her entire body like a bucket of ice water. Her fingers had gone white from where she was squeezing her mace far too tightly, and she stood there, staring for half a second longer before she kicked off the ground, Cain arcing back over her shoulder, ready for a swing.

'Idiot! You might die!'

"I can't leave them to die!"

HP: 10 - 19 = -9 HOLY s**t PETRA YOU'RE ABOUT TO DIE

(Attacking)

Then Marcus drunk swung at it. It was like a drunk ballerina.

Damage: Miss
Charge: -/2
Boss HP: 73

And then the mother present sucked in Candace and Jerry. Wilson dropped the rest of his cupcake. Woah. That was kind of cool—oh wait, that thing had just ate his fellow trainees! He should probably do something. Wilson pulled the mask over his face and headed straight for the present.

Only for it to snap at him and send him crashing into a nearby table. He groaned, sliding one hand out from his weapon and tearing away his gasmask for fresh air. Already Wilson could feel himself flickering between consciousness and unconsciousness. He heard his weapon yapping in his mind. Hadn’t something like this happened before? The aches in his back and arms certainly felt familiar. God. He sucked at this fighting business.

HP: -2 B|a

Robert felt relatively confident that Petra was going to stay behind with him, and keep healing until they were somewhat useful to the fight. So confident was he, in fact, that his hold on her was barely touching, just enough to feel her in his arms. He was still munching on his cookie when he felt her slip away, and he looked up to see what she was doing - because she certainly wasn't thinking of attacking.

By the time his eyes had lifted to her, she was already too far for him to reach. His eyes widened and he stumbled forward, barely managing to stand before she came hurtling back at him, unconscious. Her body hit his, sending him back onto his a**, and he arms curled around her much tighter this time. Tight enough to keep her there.. not that there was any danger of her running off, anymore.

Petra looked like hell, lying there in his arms. His hands started to shake, as he pushed her hair out of her face, and started ripping cloth off of her dress to tie around the bleeding cuts that started to weep all over her body. He didn't have time to speak, or yell, or be mad - he didn't even have time to cry. The tears were brushed aside quickly, so they wouldn't get in the way of what he needed to do to keep her alive.

A present. A ******** present. This was not how it was going to end.

Struggling to keep her present from fleeing to it's mother, Clarice turned to see the enemy bearing down on her. "NooooOOOOooooo!" The attack would leave her with a decent set of bitemarks on her torso, and the dress would never again be wearable without things threatening to fall out of it, but she held onto her ******** present.


HP: 33/60