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Shef chuckled nervously. "Sure.But I'm not looking for reassurance. What I need to know is twofold. One, would there be any purpose in pursuing the source, or will it only be found when it wants to, and secondly, how much of this affects the behavior of others. I.e. does it merely change the situation and correspondingly, people's response, or might it affect even their internal decisions directly?" He needed to be able to combat this. He couldn't afford to waffle over whether he personally had free will. That didn't really matter, Shef told himself.

"Good enough. If I have to go, I'll call back later, but I should be fine. All the duels are over for now I believe."

While he really ought not to have been surprised by this, it took Shef a few seconds to process the situation. A skirt, undergarments—oh no—no screams yet though and the material of the skirt seemed to match with what he remembered Hanako to be wearing. Okay so at least he—probably—wouldn't be getting sued for this. Still, better to get up before anyone with real authority tried to arrest him for sexual assault. Twice in one day. He might have to make sure not to overload his new aura whenever Hanako was around at this point. Might still feel something but at least he'd be able to reactively portal to hopefully not collide with her.

Shef began to extract himself, making certain to only place his hands on the ground to push himself up, etc. Did not need to make this any worse.

"Did not mean for that to happen. Obviously. Sorry." Shef looked away hurriedly. "I should. . . probably wrap things up with the students."

Attack (pick two)
Mesas Caelium Node: (5) NUKE9.13, Frostgiant, Madman, TFF,Strider03
Desert Gavrilium Node: (5) NUKE9.13, Frostgiant, Madman, TFF, Strider03

Leviathan
Western Maelstrom: (4) NUKE9.13, Madman, TFF, Strider03
Eastern Maelstrom (1) Frostgiant

Xilmal Jagpal, Sui Centurio
North Peaks: (5) NUKE9.13, Frostgiant, Madman, TFF, Strider03

Behemoth
Mudflats: (5) NUKE9.13, Frostgiant, Madman, TFF, Strider03

Resource Development
Mutant Rose in Mesas: (5) NUKE9.13, Frostgiant, Madman, TFF, Strider03

Harresources distribution
Keep Both: (5) NUKE9.13, Frostgiant, Madman, TFF, Strider03

Glas Bolg Transporters
Maintain: (5) NUKE9.13, Frostgiant, Madman, TFF, Strider03

Mutant Rose | Xilmal Jagpal (NE): (5) Madman, Frostgiant, NUKE9.13, TheFantasticMsFox, Strider03
"Behemoth" Assault Hovercraft (NE): (5) Madman, Frostgiant, NUKE9.13, TheFantasticMsFox, Strider03

What a farce. Right to remain silent? There'd been no statement of those rights, seemed like she was just a schoolgirl with an overinflated ego. It was a shame too that the kid wasn't down for the count. For now though, Shef had nothing guaranteed that he could do. He'd get a last command off with his requiem, but with the kid sprawled flat and having presumably used all his power reserves, no guarantee that it would do much to command him to shoot himself. Well, it was a side venture that was worth a shot. If it failed, it was less of an issue than the main task. Shoot yourself kid. The reason was left for him to figure out. Maybe he was trying to shoot something else and his hand would move wrong, maybe he'd believe that under Shef's control he'd need to take himself out to keep from hurting his allies. Who knew.

Back to the main task, Shef conjured a portal into his pocket, summoning a new mag for his gun into his free hand. The old magazine did not leave his gun though, and the new magazine was not brought up to be loaded. Instead he swept it out, scattering the rounds forward at the monstrous regalia, before firing a burst of normal shots.

With the last burst of the requiem aura, command the lurker to commit die. Deactivate requiem and aura. Scatter the last magazine of clothing damage rounds at the trapped assailant, and detonate them in chain reaction with regular shots. Pinpoint fire based on where the clothing damage rounds explode, prioritizing head and torso. This is done with Rapid Fire[4]

[1+1] 5 4 3 2 3 3 3 2 [4]

Honestly no idea if the lore contest is still going. But I wanted to make a lore goddammit.

Xilmal cursed, glancing over the assorted papers ahead of her. These Initharians and their obsession with pastels, so damn garish. To be certain, the reason for her frustration was not the colors themselves, but the fact that they were incomprehensible to her. Central Command hadn't seen fit to give them even a base level training in the written language, and she was quite certain it was because they did not themselves understand it. She had something, but it was small consolation given her situation. She'd studied the phrasebook of the language, written phonetically. Too much was involved in the colors to include in a phrase book, but she'd be able to say a few words. She wouldn't be able to pass in extended conversation, but with the garnish of pure pain decorating her words and disguising her accent, she might gain some few precious seconds.

The only thing she gained from these indecipherable papers was the layout of the bunker, and that she knew already. The room she was in provided a good view of the entrance, thankfully. An intentional element of the design she suspected, for landing soldiers that made it past the beach. She swept the papers aside, utterly useless unless she wanted to light a fire, and that wasn't going to happen in this cavern of metal and concrete. Steeling herself, and steadying her breath, Xilmal approached the three corpses collapsed in the corner of the room. She kicked the bodies apart, a slow ordeal, kicking a slumped dead person to a new location is no easy task. Once she had a good look at them, she selected the smallest of them, and began unbuttoning his uniform. Her left shoulder twinged, and she tried to keep her movements of her body small and steady. She'd need to be prepared to not pass out when the time came. Some awkward tugging, and the first arm of the soldier was freed. It'd be simple to remove the rest now. She only needed the jacket, and the pants. Enough to give her that extra second. The Embral soldier briefly considered taking the dog tags, but the likelihood that those would help her was slim to none.

The jacket was bloody, with a hole in the side, but luckily, the previous owner had fallen in a way that seemed to have prevented staining except in close proximity to the hole. The silk as well, seemed to prevent the staining somewhat. If Xilmal presented her profile in it properly, she suspected she could pass as uninjured. Well, knee pads, then the pants next. Xilmal cautiously stepped over to the window first, checking to see if she'd been noticed yet. There was movement, but none of it seemed to be approaching her. However, it would not be long before the body she'd left outside was discovered, or someone was expected to head to or from this watch post. She returned to her task. Unstrapping the knee pads was significantly easier than the following issue of removing the pants, but she managed it in time. Next, her clothes needed to come off. Pants were simple, she got them off with little trouble, but. . . after a minute of struggling to get them onto the soldier, she gave up. She didn't have the time to waste on this foolish idea of passing his corpse for the Embral intruder. Xilmal instead shoved him back to the corner where he'd died. Now his pants on her. A bit baggy, but she couldn't ask for more.

Now came the hardest part. Xilmal took her trousers, and with her right arm, balled up a section of them to bite down on. Then, she began moving her shoulders, attempting to finding a way to get her arms out. There was no easy way to do this without moving her left shoulder in some manner. She moaned into the cloth, pushing on her jacket with her wounded shoulder so that she could begin slipping her right arm out. A final burst of force, followed a jagged pain lancing down her shoulder and an accompanying muted scream. Her right arm was free. Shaking, she slipped the jacket carefully down her left arm, and onto the floor. She kicked it to the corner with the stripped corpse, and then the remaining corpses were arduously shoved on top of it, to hide the uniform at first glance to anyone who entered the room.

Now the new coat. A motley pattern of beige, rust, and brown adorned it. The silk made it somewhat gentler to slip onto her left arm, but the contortions necessary to put on a coat made it nearly as painful as the removal of her own uniform. It was only as the tears flowed down her face afterwards that she realized that there was a chance she could have gotten away with just keeping her arm out of the sleeve. But now, with this, she might not be shot on sight if she somehow got out of this. And knee pads on last of course.

Now, there was nothing more to do, but to plan her attack. The disguise would show it's value if there came an opportunity to escape the bunker. But for now, this was her best chance helping her comrades preparing to come ashore.

Xilmal brought the rifle up to the concrete slit, along with her ammunition. She had eleven magazines—three each from the men in this room, and two she'd picked up earlier—ten rounds each. She'd emptied one getting into this room. Now, she needed to begin picking her targets. There were a few: machine gun nests about 70 meters off from her in both directions, they seemed about evenly spaced beyond that. Each seemed to have three or four occupants, and there were a number of soldiers swarming up and down to different positions, with a motorcycle passing by occasionally, presumably messengers. Beyond the nearest east nest was a parked tank of some form, behind a sloped barricade leading up to its turret. Damn, she'd not be able to shoot through that. She'd need to bait out the occupants, if she could.

She took careful aim at one of the passing motorcycles. This would be the first target. Interrupt communications, and attract attention all in one go. But what would be the lead? She had only fired in close proximity with these weapons thus far, and their performance diverged significantly from what she was used to. The soldier lined up the iron-sights as she normally would for a low torso shot, knowing that she just had to give it a go. A gentle pull on the trigger, and the click of the round firing. Wait, if they were silent, that meant. . . they weren't supersonic. Not enough velocity, and the round would drop far more than she was used to. Shit. The man on the motorcycle continued forward, unharmed, seeming to notice nothing. And she hadn't even seen where the bullet landed, to adjust her aim.


Yet, within a second, he began to slow, and then came to a stop. Even from this distance, it was clear that the man was confused. That confusion became clear as he stared at his tire. She'd hit the tire, goddamn that was a lot of drop. Not optimal, but. . . that meant she knew the lead, and the drop. She aimed again, higher, iron-sights settling just a little above his head, and pulled the trigger. The man slumped, and fell over. One down, 108 rounds left. A shout rang out from the machine gun nest nearest him, and a soldier ran out, heading over to the courier. He was the next victim, 107. Xilmal was certain that no others would venture out to meet the same fate. Next, the machine gun itself. Three rounds into that and it was put out of working order. If they opened fire on her with that one, she'd be in some real shit, given it's proximity to her.

These nests, while well defended from the front, were not designed to deal with an attack from her vantage point. The occupants of the first nest died quickly under her fire, but the other on the opposite side, seemed to have noticed the commotion as well. They, given more time to react, acted. A colored flare shot out of the nest, yellow to orange smoke trailing into the sky, as she took aim for her next shot. It took 9 shots to take out the soldiers in the nest, for they could manage to hide most of their torso in that position, and she had a very small target to hit. Good practice for the aiming though. Now for the next nest, much further away. The flare had gone up, and they'd know she was here. A burst of machine gun fire from that nest pinged off the outer wall. Good, good, she'd gotten some attention. Also very bad. Xilmal poked her rifle over the edge, and fired the rest of her magazine out in a burst. Had she hit anything? She wasn't sure. Eight magazines left, and as she slammed in a new mag, and yet more of the spitting death from the machine gun. They'd be trying to approach the entrance under that cover. At a break in the machine gun fire, she popped out, took a shot at the approaching group of soldiers, before ducking back down, as bullets flew towards the slit again. Miss, both her shots and the machine gun's bullets. She hadn't had time to aim properly, but that was likely to be the case for the rest of her time here. Another peek, another shot, and another burst of refocyte from the machine gun. She smiled, got one. 78 rounds remaining. This pattern continued, the machine gun fire slowly becoming more concentrated on the slit, as they settled on the aim. A bullet grazed her ear, tearing into it, and with each burst, shards of shattered concrete spalled from the inside of the bunker. Some were minor, losing their speed before harmlessly bouncing off her uniform, others with more velocity tore small gouges into her jacket and arm.

Down to 54, she'd gotten the group of soldiers approaching the bunker entrance. Now she'd need the nest. Deep breaths, she needed to take out the actual machine gun, at 210 meters, without much experience with this weapon at that range. Doable. The low recoil meant that she'd be able to get her shots off in quick succession. . . she just had to go for it. She waited a moment, trying to time it to a lull in the bursts of fire. She popped up and emptied the magazine into the nest. Xilmal was rewarded by a distant set of pings, distinctly louder and sharper than the click of the machine gun firing. Good. And yet, bullets continued to impact the bunker. A nest farther down? The rifles of the soldiers in that nest which she had just crippled? Or. . .Xilmal popped her head up for a quick glance, and was greeted by the sight of a tank turret ponderously turning to face her barrel aligning it's maw directly towards her face.

Shit, shit. Would they shoot the bunker? Xilmal staggered to the back of the room, away from the slit, placing herself as far as possible from the slit where the tank would presumably target. But, after a full minute and a half of waiting, nothing had happened. No concussive thud, no decrease in the sporadic machine gun fire. Perhaps they held out hope to take it back. The tank was equipped with two machine guns, she recalled. Those would be a mess to deal with. Ducking, she tentatively approached the table that had held the useless papers and plans, and tugged on it. Not light, but she might be able to prop it over. She pulled, attempting to lift it up longways, but found herself unable with a single arm. With a sigh, she crawled underneath, and stood, lifting it with her back, to cover the part of the slit looking out at the tank. As soon as the table was up, a burst from the twin machine guns peppered the concrete and splintered the table. But not her. And with the light switched off in the room, and the dawn's glow outside, Xilmal hoped that the table would prevent them from knowing when she popped up to take fire at the entrance to the bunker.

Not cover, but concealment. Either they'd have to waste all their ammunition blowing through the table, or they'd have to resort to sporadically firing and hoping that that was when she poked up. Safer than them firing in reaction to her appearance at least. Wait a few seconds, then. . .she popped up again, and saw a group of a soldiers ducking and sprinting from one covered location to the next in a meandering route towards the bunker entrance. When she opened fire, they responded in kind, but it seemed they'd been relying on the tank's cover fire, and they were easily picked off before they managed to hit her. She ducked down again away from the slit, breathing heavily.

They'd be sending more, probably, and she had. . .four full magazines left, and the rounds in her current mag. She could go silent for a bit, and make them think she was out, or had been hit by the soldiers approaching? That was probably the best—her thoughts were interrupted by an explosion of shards of concrete, the crash deafening after so much muted clicking and pinging. A burst of dust, wood splinters, and concrete shrapnel exploded around her, and flung her against the wall, winding her. The rifle flew from her hand, clattering to the ground. Concrete shards had embedded themselves in her wounded arm, and there was a red cloud spreading over her vision, pain in her left eye. Something had hit her eye. Gasping, she reached up towards her eye with her right hand, and was met by a wooden splinter sticking about an inch out. She flinched back from touching it. Oh god, oh god, the tank had fired, that was all it could be. Why, why hadn't they done it earlier, weren't they sending more soldiers in to take this place back!?

In her shocked state, it took Xilmal few moments to settle on an answer. They'd seen no option when she erected the table up to block their view. She'd forced their hand, and they didn't believe they could protect their approaching troops. They were right. And so they'd decided that they would suffer damage the bunker, if only they could take either her, or at least her table out. It had worked. Shit, this ruined everything, she thought, wiping blood and tears away from her mouth.

She reached up to her eye again. There was no saving it now, and given the imminence of her demise, Xilmal chose a course of action. She gritted her teeth, placed two fingers on the wooden shard, and yanked it free. She need to be able to blink, and to be able to cover the wound to stop the bleeding. If anything happened and that blood got to her other eye, well one hand was useless and the other would be on a gun. She needed to see. Two pieces of fabric she ripped from the deceased's uniforms, both to stifle and to tie off the wound. She had more bullets, she needed to be able to use them. The time to make this makeshift bandage was significant, all the more because of her fumbled attempts to tie it with a single hand, and Xilmal began to hear shouts outside. A new group, approaching the entrance? This guess was proven wrong when a gun poked through the slit, and a fired a burst in wildly. Fate smiled upon her insomuch as this it could in this situation, and the shots missed. Seated, Xilmal grabbed for her rifle, and pulled it up towards the window with an effort, perching the barrel on her knees. She held her fire though, until a female soldier peaked through the slit, to check whether the silence meant that Xilmal had been killed. The negation of this fact traveled through the unwise soldier's brain at high velocity, exiting with a splattering of red.

More assorted shouts, and two more guns poked in through the slit. Xilmal took her shots at the guns, the refocyte rounds punching into the workings of each, rendering one of them silent after a few shots. The other gun, she must have missed the mechanisms. The Initharian managed empty his magazine blindly into the bunker, and a bullet struck Xilmal in the calf. So much for walking. Not that she'd had any hope of that anymore. Damn, she'd really been hoping to use this uniform. What was all that pain with changing for if she was going to end up corned like a fox in its hole here? Xilmal had had such high hopes for that, escaping the bunker after the local gun nests had been cleared, or tricking them into thinking she was a dead Initharian in here, and that the culprit had escaped. Well, that had always been unlikely, she thought, reprimanding herself for the foolishness of thinking it was even possible.

But, now for the last gambit she had. She dragged her self over to the pile of corpses with her good leg and arm, and began to shove herself underneath. Slow painful work. More shouting outside. She understood a fraction, something something got her? How would they know if they'd gotten her? She took a deep breath, and tried to slow her inhalation and shivering. Two minutes passed, and then voices from beyond the reinforced door leading into her room. They were in the bunker, and they'd break through soon.

A grunt from outside, and a dull thud. They were kicking or throwing themselves against the door. It'd be a little while yet. From her prone position, Xilmal grabbed another rifle from her pile of victims, and readied it, set on the floor next to her. She might not get another chance to reload, already difficult with a single hand. A shame that she'd left the last magazine by the destroyed slit. She wouldn't be able to get up and get it, what a waste.

Another five minutes, and there came a colossal crash at the door. Some kind of ram, she didn't know how they were breaching, but it was a certainty that they were. The frame shook and let out a puff of dust, but it and it's door held strong. It would be a moment yet. Xilmal steadied the rifle in it's resting position on the torso of one of the bodies. Another blast, and a crack appeared in the frame, the door bowing slightly. One final burst, and the door swung violently open. In that fraction of a second, she unloaded the rifle's magazine. Ten shots, had she gotten anyone? She didn't know, she couldn't really see through the dust, blood, and shadows of the hallway. The door had opened violently enough that it slammed into the wall next to it, and rebounded almost back to it's closed position. What a nice door, protecting her like that, Xilmal thought dizzily. In that brief moments respite, she grabbed the other gun. The door was pushed open again, and once more she opened fire, emptying the magazine.

Nothing left for her, and the shouts in the corridor continued. She hadn't gotten them all. Some unseen Initharian pulled the door close as cover, pushed their rifle around it, and fired wildly in. Bullets pinged around the bunker, and Xilmal knew this was the end. No more bullets, no more tricks, and a full unused magazine sitting out of reach next to the slit. What a fucking waste.

She couldn't stand, and her backup plan to use her scarce knowledge of the local language to pretend to be a wounded Initharian, well no chance of that. They would have to know that it was her when they came in, and they wouldn't come in before filling this tomb of hers with refocyte. Nothing left to do, but. . . drift into sleep. She'd done what she could. The defeated Embral soldier tugged one of the corpses closer over her, warm. She was closed her good eye, cruor cracking on her makeshift bandage around her other eye. She could rest now. As her consciousness dimmed, a deafening boom sounded, shaking her very skull. She did not see what had occurred, and immediately passed into unconsciousness.

---

When her eye blinked open, Xilmal's first feeling was surprise. This wasn't supposed to happen, that had been her end. She'd made her final stand. Why could she still see, and more specifically, see the cold smokey sky, and the grey crumbling concrete of the bunker? A thud shook her, not sound, but shock wave. And with that, she knew. The bombardment had begun, and the soldiers were landing. She let out a joyous sob, muted in her ringing ears, and smiled. They might not find her, they probably wouldn't. But, it had begun, and she'd done her part. The dull patternless booms of the shore bombardment, and the foothold they signified made the lullaby that once more dragged her consciousness away. It'd begun, and they would take the beach.

It took significant effort to resist the urge to bring his hands up to his eyes when the pepper spray bubble returned. And this time? No voice in his mind, goddamnit, that wasn't part of the effect then. A real problem since in order to get rid of this, he needed to requiem the source. But. . . if he could feed his requiem through that aura. . . He wasn't certain if he could extend the reach enough, but it was vitally important to remove this. After that he could deal with the other issues.

Instinct [6] outwards, and use that to command the crowd to dispel their attack effects. Follow that by trying to portal self and Yuki out of the magician's killzone. Cached portal to try to block the melee attack, and ideally redirect the spear attack towards the magician. If it's too big to portal, just try to avoid it in portalling self and Yuki out.
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