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"True, though it seems odd how easily we were able to get it. Stow it for now, but be careful. It could just be a decoy and thus potentially trapped." Mentally he moved through the maps he had been able to gather so far of the area. Along one map was a red dot for each spot he had attacked or caused damages. "So where to now?"

"I'd rather we go through s**t then have nothing to do." Looking around he considred a possible course of action. "What say we set some buildings on fire?" It would be a fairly sound idea; destroy property and potentially flush out anyone in hiding or draw people to the blaze to see what happened.

Nodding his armoured head he locked all his weapons onto their mounts to free up his hands. Wading around the cooling iron he swept the area for what he was looking for.

Finding many such places he would calmly walk inside, most were empty of people; but a few had a few workers and regulars. Such brutal work was deserved only for the shovel he carried with him. Crushing them beneath the composite steel tool he left a trail of broken bone fragments and gore wherever he went.

When he was done his armour was stained a dark black red shade, splatters were all over while his hands were perfectly painted it. The next act was a simple one. Destroying things as throughly as he could. Braking bottles he would pour them upon the bar and light them on fire.

Starting an effect that would eventually rage all through the area. Sweeping through the different buildings he lit a series of small fires in the stores that would rage out of control like wild fire.

Returning from this excursion he had grabbed a few bottles of vodka and scotch. "Just incase we want a drink or you need a few impromptu fire bombs."

Owle and Rage walked out of the store, side by side, surveying the destruction. The fire was, fortunately, still some distance from them.

"Rage...we should get out of here...

"And once we do...I need you to roll me..."

It's a crazy plan of Flare's, she explained, switching to telepathic communication. Creating chaos to distract others from the petals...and any chaos that might lead them to it. I can turn into a large ball of armor...and she wants you to roll me down the street.

While Rage was still thinking, Owle began walking off in some direction. She wanted to get the hell away from the fire.

It all happened quickly. And not at all like Marg imagined.

The man reached for his left arm. Grabbing it tight, making him drop Marfa, as he tried to restrain the man's arms behind his back. Marg watched, hearing his heart stop as the idol hit the ground, bounced, then went still.

As he reached for his other hand, that was all it took. Nerveless fingers gripped the handle of the blade tightly, regaining life and strength. He whirled around, his blade cutting in with a practiced ease. Right across the belly, cutting deep enough and long enough to watch his innards spill out.

Or at least it should have been his innards. No, instead it was... lime jello?

The green desert, with chunks of, something, in there, spilled out of the man's belly. The man was incredulous, even as he could feel the life ebbing from him. He fell in a pool of the jello, trying to stuff it back into his body, but never getting anywhere. Never stopping it. It just kept coming out, more jello spilling onto the streets than the man had right to have within him.

Soon, the guard, Marg, Marfa, were burried under a pile of the lime flavored semisolid. As he fished around for his idol, he could hear a scream, muffled by food stuff.

There was a flash of light, a sizzle, and a smack, as the woman cast her spell upon the desert pile that was once her partner's guts. But the pain never came. Marg felt nothing, could see nothing other than lime green hell.

Knife and idol in hand, he swam through the still growing pile of jello. Towards the woman, towards his target. Towards her eyes.

It would be hard to imagine the carnage inflicted, and the jello left behind by looking at the man. He was skipping down the street. Swinging a cat doll in one hand, his other curled into a fist.

Well ahead of the desert and the destruction, he turned into an abandoned shop, long cleared out in the wake of explosions, burning, and all the other chaos that was going on.

The door swung open easily into the dark supply depot. Inside, Marg rummaged around, finding a bottle of water, depositing the green eyes within the liquid to preserve it. Now with a handy vessel, he pocketed the bottle. The eyes were secured, but the man couldn't help but feel as though something was, missing.

About to leave the store, it occured to him. He rushed over to the counter, fishing about in his pockets, and leaving next to the register the coin to pay for the bottle.

"Now that's that..."

Walking outside, he had a big, friendly smile on his face, as he held Marfa up before him.

"Where are they? Where am I supposed to go?" he asked her, then looked down and around, quick to pay attention for any possible sign the goddess might supply him with.