Elf Hunting

Elf Hunting
Date of Scene:	26 February 2013
Location:	Traverse Town - Cloud Nine
Synopsis:	Clayton and his hired thugs come to collect on Morrighan's bounty. Gunfire ensues, surprising secrets are revealed.
Cast of Characters:	Deidra, Will Sherman, Mercade Alexander, Avira, Morrighan Alazne, Maximilien, Percival, Clayton, Soan Sagittarius

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Clayton has posed:
John Clayton has made something of a name for himself after the Fluorgis fight, the largest job he's ever taken since doing mercenary work between the worlds. He was rewarded a sizable sum for his efforts, especially since more than a few other hunters lost their lives fighting Kurt Zisa. He finally had enough to purchase a manor - or perhaps comission his own jungle fortress in his own world's section of Africa the Porters and their assistants are stuck in. That would be suitably fitting.
But a good adventurer never rests. There is a bounty posted on Morrighan Alazne for her various crimes. Clayton does not know WHO posted it, not even making his own inquiries turned up anything. But the reward was sizable, and the crimes were just enough that he felt completely fine with pursuing a human quarry. For he is no stranger to delivering men to justice - it was a common task in the chaos of the colonies. It wasn't easily keeping a land civilized. Plus, who goes around summoning supernatural horrors?
Clayton approaches the Cloud Nine building with an entourage of hired goons he promised to split some of the reward with if he was successful. He knew the elf was being held here, but this was also home to several unique individuals, who would likely not give her up easily. For Clayton, the men were merely there to provide backup in case his negotiations fail. Many are wielding guns, which he figured would suitably intimidate.
He signals for the men to stop, raising his hand calmly. "ALRIGHT!" he yells at the Cloud Nine. His voice is enormous and booming when he wants it to be. "I THINK YOU HAVE SEEN US COMING BY NOW, AND YOU LIKELY HAVE AN INKLING OF WHY THERE ARE SEVERAL TOUGHS OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR! BRING US THE ELF GIRL AND WE WILL BE ON OUR WAY! I REPEAT, BRING US THE GIRL, AND NOTHING WILL HAPPEN!" He waits. The men keep their various armaments loaded, some eager just to storm the place and shoot it up. But they respect Clayton too much to dare it.

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
Even fron the third floor, Morrighan could hear that loud proclamation slash demand from the hunter whose identity she had no clue. Having been laying in her bed, sleeping due to boredom, her eyes shoot open. "What manner of foolishness...?" She huffs indignantly, sitting up fron the bed and standing. She had managed to get her dress cleaned in the time they had allowed her to take a bath finally. Thus, those horribly unflattering clothes were worn only briefly, and now she was back in her usual dress.

Carefully, the elven mage crept towards the only window in the room, peeking out of a corner to see just who or what was outside. The sight of a sizable number of men stationed outside with guns almost caused her to pale. "B-Bounty Hunters...? This must be some kind of joke!" Morrighan spoke in a hushed tone to herself, quickly stepping away from the window and sitting down onto the bed again. "Someone was actually foolish enough to take it up?"

Well now what was she suppoed to do? The answer? Nothing. Nothing but hope those idiots could drive those men off. Right about now was the time where she was horribly hating the fact that she was stuck in this one room. Alone.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade was at the bar. Mercade is drinking a soda and eating a chicken club sandwich with a side of steak fries.

Clayton's booming voice almost makes him knock the things over. He sighs. "Well, that was only a matter of time." Mercade says. At first, he considers seriously negotiating with the guy. But then he realizes that he's bounty-hunting Morrighan. So he goes with the troll plan.

"Will. You're up." He says over his shoulder while he mutters into his phone. He stands, walking to the doorway and leaning against it with his arms folded while letting the Hobo King deal with this. He cuts a suave figure with his detective's trenchcoat and his mussy demeanor. He doesn't look that concerned with the crowd of roughs outside the doorway.

He'd say something, but he just lets his presence speak for itself. Not that it's going to make a difference, it's not like he's some metric ton of badass like Avira or an infamous phantom thief. Nope. Just some guy.

Maximilien has posed:
"You wear your pride like armor, madamoiselle, but it is not hard to see through you. You are not surprised; you knew this would come, as did we all. It was too much money to ignore." Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne pushes the door shut, as if he had been standing there the whole time, his arms crossed, his cane tucked under his arm. He frowns, moving to advance on Morrighan as the door shuts itself; the Frenchman stops in front of her, looking down at her for a moment, as if he can see through her just perfectly. He pauses there for a moment.

Then he holds out a hand. "Come. You do not need to fear. I will take you out the back; we will run, and hide, while the detectives hold him off, oui? I am not much good in a fight, being that I am a pacifist, but when it comes to making escapes, there are few in these worlds better than I." He offers her a handsome, dashing smile as he holds his hand there in front of her.

"They are already deploying the best agent we have access to when it comes to drawing ire."

Will Sherman has posed:
Will was sitting down with a plate infront of him. The plate had a delicious DEATHWICH.

The DEATHWICH is a double bacon cheeseburger, topped with onion rings and bbq sause, sandwhiched inbetween TWO grilled cheese sandwiches. He takes a bite of this cholesteral dripping burger, and then there was a shout. The shouting, wanting the Elf they had given to them. Will for a moment, sighs, and gives no <GOOSEHONK>s. The elf did them no favors, she helped destroy their world, she tried to throw the world into chaos. Will simply does nothing at first, taking another bite and enjoying the sandwhich.

He pauses, though...something Mercade said, something about why was he forgiving Riku, but damning Morrighan. He pauses...seriously thinking about this for a moment. A long, long moment, why was he? He bites down on the artery killer again, it was...hard to deal with this choise. The desire to push down on the negitive emotion...to take the path of least resistance bubbles to the surface.

He takes a breath, "No it isn't fair is it?" he says at random, and looks to Mercade. "..." he considers, and then, "Alright. You win Mercade...god." he says, and walks to the door, pushing the bar door open...and to meet the henchmen. "Hi, I am Will Sherman." he says, noting Clayton, "Oh hey, you're the guy from the beach. Guess it takes all types huh?" he says, walking slowly towards them. He was a sixteen year old kid, no more dangerous than anyone else right? He walks slowly, hands up in the air as he gets closer. "Now how about we talk about this like gentlemen." he says, getting closer...and closer...

And then he sticks his fingers into the two nearest barrels. "Now, you have to ask yourself. You are a group of heavily armed thugs...and I am but a young adult who has stuck his fingers into your guns. How...lucky do you feel right now? If I were you, I'd put your weapons away, and talk to our boss about rethinking this..."

"But I can see it in your eyes, greedy as you are you will try and shoot me. Well, go on, I'm waiting."

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
Hearing the door open, or rather, hearing the door close, because wow, when did he even get here? Morrighan looked over at the advancing figure of Max, frowning at his words. "H-Hmph...! Do not presume to think you know me now!" She responded tersely, crossing her arms in a huff and looking away angrily.

This display lasted for all of two seconds before the dark elf relented and removed one of her arms, taking his hand gently. "...Are you letting me go, or am I just going to be held somewhere else now?" She asked, giving the phantom thief a sidelong glance suspiciously.

Avira has posed:
Avira is also at the bar, though unlike Mercade, she doesn't have anything to eat right now. Just a tumbler with some kind of amber-colored liquid in it. The liquid isn't fizzy at all so it's unlikely to be soda.

The sudden shouting makes Avira's spine stiffen (her real spine), but she isn't startled to the point of knocking her drink over. "Damn, I figured this would happen eventually." she murmurs and turns around on her stool. She doesn't rise, leaning against the bar with her back, propping her elbows against it. "Well then." She lets Will handle this one, in spite of her alleged badassery powers. Avira looks to the drink in her hand and grins.

"It's a nine o' clock on a tuesday~
An irregular crowd shuffles in. o/~
They're obviously here to cash on that bounty~
And they'll die if they spill my gin." o/~

Deidra has posed:
Deidra is generally on the roof even when she's dong things reallty such as this day? Then comes the bellow of a bounty hunter. Given normally she'd have no problem with honest work hunting down cirminals in this somewhat disorganized world? Given the suspicuans of who may have posted the bounty doesnt' sit well also this man's here at the door seeming to cause problems.

She spreads her wing and drops down from the roof of the building she glydes in laning in a crouch as she lands.

"Just what is the problem, sir?"

The Gargyole tilts her head and rises up to her full height.

Clayton has posed:
Clayton smiles thinly as Mercade walks out first. He is not familiar with Mercade or his rep, but even Clayton knows the look in a man's eyes can tell you enough. "Hello, sir," he greets cordially. "If you would just escort Miss Alazne to me, that will be all. I'll forget that you are harboring a savage monster in your midst, too." Then something unexpected happens: a teenager walks up and sticks his fingers in the barrels of the guns of two of the thugs.
Clayton, and the men, blink several times. "You wot, mate?" one asks Will. "Best get yer fingers out me gun, 'fore I hook you in the gobber mate, swear on me mum's loife!" The other growls. The suave hunter just stares. "Ah...are you joking?" He looks to Mercade. "Does this one have a keeper somewhere? Am I missing something?" He laughs in disbelief at the situation. "Let us plug the kid, eh?" One man yells. Clayton swiftly sweeps his hand. "No! Don't make a move until I say so, you idiots!"
He gritted his teeth. He motions to a few of the gunmen. "Sweep around back, I don't want anyone entering or leaving this building until the situation is resolved." The four men quickly move as he turns back to Mercade. "Now, what will it be, sir?" he asks.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade foottapps to Avira's singing. "Are you seriously singing about this to the tune of the Piano Man?" Mercade asks over his shoulder, then looks back to Clayton, sighing as the standoff continues. "You have an interest in cashing in the bounty. We have an interest in it not being fulfilled, since it's been posted by a horrible person who plans to do terrible things to the woman."

Mercade gestures. "So as you can see, we're at an impasse. She may have done wrong, but she doesn't deserve what that man will do to her. If you're going to insist on aggressing on our property, you're going to leave us no choice but to forcibly eject you from the premeses."

"In other words..." Mercade smiles. "Get outta here, kid. Ya bother me." He says with an outrageous New York accent.

Maximilien has posed:
"I do not need to presume. You are not exactly hard to read, madamoiselle, and I am very good at reading people," Max replies cheerfully as he takes her hand. And then he moves to scoop her up into his arms in a bridal carry, that infuriatingly French smile plastered across his face. "You are afraid - you have been afraid since you arrived, hiding it beneath your bravado, as though your fear were some sort of demon you could slay. You knew this was not a joke, not madness; you reject the reality you find yourself in, because it suits your pride, and if you allowed your pride to be injured, it would expose the fragile little tortured girl from the village long ago. The little outcast girl who had no choice but to be proud, to hide her tears - because the tears were what they wanted, were they not?"

His voice is calm as he moves for the door, carefully avoiding the window. "They wanted to pull the tears out of you because you were different, and making you cry would bring them happiness. They would feel like big heroes, defeating the evil dark elf. And they hurt you, over and over, and over." He moves through the door, still holding her in his arms, carefully closing it behind him with his cane. Then he dashes for the stairs - and as he dashes, his voice gets faster, keeping up with his steps.

"But you grew strong. You hid the tears and pulled up your pride. You hid the fear and the anger and all the other things underneath your pride, pulled it above you like a safety blanket. They got tired of tormenting you when you did not cry; the world could not hurt you then, not while you had your invulnerable armor. You grew beautiful, and that only made your armor stronger. What, after all, could ever break the pride of so beautiful a woman?"

Max kicks open the door to the roof, going straight up the stairs, covering three stairs a leap. The ride is smooth for Morrighan; if she's paying attention, she might notice float magic cast on them both. "And so you hid yourself away behind the mask of pride and vanity, and have never allowed yourself to smile, to trust, to be close to other people. You learned that the world was a terrible place, so you told yourself you would conquer it, and no one would ever hurt you again."

The roof door opens before them as Max puts the brunt of his weight into it, and he smiles at her. "Did I more or less...hit the mark, ma belle?"

He pauses for a moment, doing some brief calculations as he talks, still sounding calm, peaceful. He is where he loves to be - in the heat of the action, with a getaway to plan right on the spot. He lived for this, this adrenaline rush. "I told you that I would find, ma belle, something to make you smile, to draw out your true beauty."

"I am going to help you go free, and you will be released. If you need any help, you have but to call."

Avira has posed:
"Maaaaaybe." Avira drawls in a mischevious manner. "We ARE in a bar, after all." She still hasn't gotten up out of her seat yet, actually trusting in Will's negotiation skills thus far. Though that doesn't seem to be deterring them to often, now Mercade is working on "politely" telling Clayton to, as they say in jolly old England "sod off."

In fact, she even sets her drink on the counter and politely applaud's Mercade's rebuff, leaning forward as she does so. "Well done! I liked the 'forcibly eject from the premises' part the best."

Smugly, she leans back against the bar again and watches the front door. One of her hands drops out of sight, concealing the fact that she actually has it resting upon the hilt of her weapon. Of course, this is a sword-like object and not a gun so its effectiveness in a shootout would be arguable.

It still makes her feel better to have it there.

Will Sherman has posed:
Will smiles, it isn't malicious it is...easy going.

"I am either crazy, stupid, or over confident. Which is it, I wonder?" Will says to the men, not moving his fingers. He keeps his gaze right on the several men as more run to the back. He looks back at Clayton, turning his attention away from the two thugs he has by the barrel of their own guns. Slowly, his eyes look over the man's string, and he frowns a bit. Slowly, he takes a breath, "You heard the boss, you're not welcome here. Now go before you do something silly like shoot your guns at me."

Deidra has posed:
Deidra growls slightly as Mercade finishes up his words to teh man her eyes turn red.

"I'm sorry but you'll be asked to leave, if need be we'll throw you off the grounds sir. I would suggest you be wise and walk away from this." She's clearly got talons out and ready she's making no hint to her magical abilities however as she shifts about tail moving with menace.

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
"Wh-Whuh!?"

Morrighan had no time at all to refite Max's words before she found herself scooped up into her arms like she was some sort of damsel in distress being carried away from the danger. She totally wasn't. Because that would be stupid.

...She wasn't, right?

Well either way, a hint of red made it's way onto the elven woman's face as she was carried off. Partly embarrassment, and partly anger. Or perhaps the former was more prevalant than the latter. Who knew? But she was not going to listen to this infuriatingly /french/ man pick her mind apart. ...Or maybe she was. Because there was no /not/ hearing it now. Especially with her ears.

"That is..." She started to say, averting her eyes as the phantom thief dashed through the hall. She couldn't say anything. Every last word he uttered was one hundred percent correct. And it made her angry! Who did this man think he was to just throw everything in her face in a manner such as this!? Growing more and more frustrated with each sentence finished, Morrighan opened her mouth, looking ready to yell at him and deny everything, but then he continued on.

They were moving rather fast for herself being a burden of weight to carry. How was he doing this? She certainly was not the heaviest person in the world, but he was also not the strongest looking. So how? A cursory glance downwards revealed to hear vague hints of float magic. Aha, so that explained it. Nevertheless, that was not as much of an important detail compared to the words coming from Max's mouth then.

"Stop it...Stop it! You talk about my life as if you were actually there! As if you were right there in that village at the very moment it was happening! How did you even manage to construe such things from the simple story I told you?" No, there would be no admitting it. Just anger and denial. Though that response in and of itself may as well have been an admittance. Alas.

Coming out onto the roof, the healer looked away from her carrier and out at the expanse of Traverse Town. Why were they up here? Was going up to the roof not a disadvantage now? However, his talk of going free distracted Morrighan enough for her to look back at him incredulously. "Excuse me?" She asked rhetorically "What did you just say now?"

Clayton has posed:
The people here make their decision. Clayton listens to them, and something in his expression...changes. His gentlemanly looks flash into something...else. Something decidedly less polite and negotiable. "Typically bloody Yanks, thickheaded and always smarting off. What the devil are you people thinking? Defending that criminal! She /summoned an undead demonic entity/! How can you justify such savage mysticism? Why, maybe she /deserves/ whatever the bounty poster is giving her!"
He spits at Mercade's feet. "Are you familiar with the Anglo-Persian War? The Second Opium War? How about the Indian Rebellions, or the Abyssinian Expedition? I fought them all. I helped tame ALL those savages for their own good, and for the good of the British Empire. I have experienced all the hardships of war, but in the end, it was for a good cause. So what I'm /getting/ at, is that shedding some blood to bring in a devil summoning maniac /is nothing/ to me!"
He hefts his shotgun and turns on the men. "They made their choice, men! Open fire, open fire RIGHT NOW!" With yells of battle the armed thugs begin shooting. Will Sherman and Mercade will be the first to get hit, if they are not quick enough. Evidently, they have no idea what Will is capable of, taking his threats as mere wind.

Will Sherman has posed:
Odd things happen around Will.

Such as the two guns pointed at him...suddenly firing...and jamming immediately. His finger doesn't explode, but it does smoke a little. Will winces, blowing at his now smoking index fingers. "Oooow!" he complains, and rubs them a bit. Of course, this will take the hunters some time to fix their jammed guns. Will, however, pushes his advantage and steps forward, his fists moving to try and smack both of the men, before he drops, aiming to try and sweep them from their standing position, before he flips back to his feet, aiming to try and jab both hands into their shoulders...his fingers not only working their physical bodies, but tearing and weakening their threads of fate, aiming to try and wither their chances of success.

Will moves fluidly, not just a boy, but a boy who knows kung fu. "Oh wait, maybe I wasn't BEING overconfident. You might have fought in wars, but I've been alive for three hundred years. You're all just pups to me."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Well, if that's going to be ho-OH GOD BULLETS!" Mercade yells as he dives back behind the doorjam, letting it take the bullets.

Or rather, shatter as Clayton blasts it with his huge-ass gun. Mercade peers out of the hole in the wall, blinking. "Well, uh... YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR REPAIRS!" Mercade yells, as he goes on the defensive, falling back and kicking over some tables to help screen potshots into the building as he makes more cover.

Deidra has posed:
Deidra says "It's a longer story it's more what that tree belongs to and who might want it." Deidra now pulls out her ipad spell book and boots it up to the book marks list quickly tabbing up a spell she needs and then comes the latin. Clayton might know the lanuage or at least know what's being spoken and it's something to do with ice from the sounds of it, soon the winds pick up and there's then an array of ice shards as she brings in her attack. Ice shard launch them selves at the great British Game Hunter. She lisens this man's lived a quite large amount of history but well bullets, and this is one hell of a mess with Morri. Why does eveyrthing end up prezelshaped when dealing with that elf?

Maximilien has posed:
"You do not need to hide behind your pride with me. I can see through you, ma belle; you told me everything I needed to know. Your anger is as good as an admission, the final confirmation."

Max chuckles - quietly, because he doesn't want Clayton's undoubtedly keen senses picking up on them - and props her up a bit as he considers angles, trajectories, and other fun things. His cloak billows around him as he starts picking up a run; he doesn't answer her just yet. He's a bit deep in focus, drawing the Mists/mana/MP into himself as he considers the situation. Surely he's not so crazy as to...

Jump.

Max's feet press against the edge of the roof as he comes to a head in his run; he leaps, clutching Morrighan tight against his chest, to the next roof. He murmurs "hold tight" as they sail above the group - there was no choice but to do so, and to hope that Clayton would not in fact look up as he ran. He had the speed advantage, but Clayton had a lot of guns. He would have to trust in the TDA to draw Clayton's fire.

They land on the opposing roof gently, delicately; Morrighan might at most get a bump. Max doesn't stop running, not even for a second - if Clayton did look up, he would take the shot, and that could legitimately put them both in danger.

"I told you that you are free to go, once I get you to safety. I told you that if you have need of anything, you may simply call. You do not need your pride against me, madamoiselle; I have nothing I seek from you but your smile."

"So, will you smile for me?"

Avira has posed:
"Did he just say 'tame those savages'?" Avira says, blinking owlishly at the ranting British man. "Savages...?" She seems short-circuited by the "British nationalisim" to say the least. One hushed question later and she's soon focusing again, Avira having gotten up out of her seat at last. It was pretty clear that these men weren't interested in being talked down.

And frankly he did have a point concerning the questionability of defending the dark elf, who had summoned the lich. Avira's silent on the subject though. "You guys can't just come in here and wreck the place, especially after we've told you to leave."

Then they open fire. Avira is fortunate enough to not be the primary target of the first volley and uses this advantage to take cover behind the bar.

She still remembers that traumatic fight with Kaze. Fighting people with guns was not easy. All they had to do was get a good shot in and it was over.

She does not draw her Spine. She will not be charging into the groups of men with shotguns swinging her weapon around like some big damn hero. Instead, she readies her ice magic, forming the arrows of ice along the length of her arm as she keeps her head down. Without warning, she pops up from behind the bar at random and unleashes the magic, which has a slight explosion on impact and releases creeping ice crystals for a few seconds afterards.

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
"N-Now hold on just a moment-whaaaaaaaa--!"

Unlike Max, Morrighan had no reservations yelling in surprise at suddenly being clutched to her apparent liberator, and then the jump to the next roof, the landing was surpringly not that bumpy, but the fact that they even did it at all was enough to draw her surprise.

Clayton would probably have seen them by now if he had looked up at the yell.

"You seriously mean to tell me that you will not pursue any sort of repayment from me?" The elf asked, her voice growing a bit softer than it's usual hardened edge. "...How am I supposed to believe you?" She murmured, averting her eyes again. "No one performs acts of good will for free or for something ot little value..."

She fell silent for a couple moments then before her crimson eyes were drawn back to the phantom thief. "...My smile is not something of value. Why do you seek it so persistently?" Looking away again, Morrighan quietly added one last statement. "Your life is being put at risk because of me and all you want is my smile? Preposterous..."

Clayton has posed:
The two men whose guns Sherman plugged get smacked in the head pretty hard, dazing them enough to knock them off their feet with his sweep. His final jab to their shoulders knock them back as Sherman messes with their very fates. They groan as they roll on the ground. Deidra jumps into the fray and fires ice shards at the group. Clayton avoids the first few, but some of the gunmen get stabbed and yell in pain as blood drips from their wounds. One shard slices through Clayton's back as he rolls to a crouch. He doesn't seem to mind it much.
Avira causes further havoc within the group as her ice arrows strike the chests, shoulders, and one neck of the group, some of them going down hard but not quite out of the fight yet. Clayton's eyes became predatory, as he takes note of Maximilien running with the girl on the rooftops. "THERE!" he screams. He aims his shotgun and fires a precise shot right at the gentleman thief, his shotgun echoing down the street with a loud BOOM.
As for the thugs, some of them snap off some fast shots at the defenders, while a few sharpshooters start taking extra careful aim at everyone. These are the guys to watch out for.

Maximilien has posed:
Ah. Yes, Morrighan shouting would naturally draw Clayton's fire. That was unfortunate, but it's not like he could clamp her mouth shut while he was also carrying her and trying to make a complicated leap. The bullet grazes by his arm, cutting through his tuxedo; blood rolls down his tuxedo, and Max shakes his head as he crests the roof.

"Forgive me the rough ride, madamoiselle; I am a gentleman, but I fear the man hunting us only pretends. Let us see if we cannot beat him to the train station." Now they were racing. Each jump would mean gunfire. Each moment would mean a risk. But that was fine; Max knew that. Max understood that. And yet, he just keeps that serene smile on his face, like he's in total control of the situation.

"What, exactly, would I need from you? What do you have of value that I would know of or care for? You know so very little about me, ma belle, and that is just the way I like it. I want your smile. Your smile is your true beauty, the beauty you have buried under layers of anger and pride and deceptions to protect yourself. Your smile is the beauty that you have covered up from the world. How can you tell me that giving me this gift has no value? For me, seeing a woman's true beauty is one of the most precious things in the world."

Max darts to the side, suddenly changing his course just before the jump. His agility is frightening; it's not just magical, either. There's real, hardcore, physical training in that movement - he's made himself excellent, for some purpose, pushed himself to the absolute limit of human ability...for something.

"So smile for me, ma belle. Show me the real beauty that you have hidden, and I will help you no matter where you are, so long as your need is true. And besides."

Max leaps across the next roof, stopping briefly to balance himself on a chimney and regain his sense of direction. "It is a gentleman's duty to help a lady in distress, non?"

It is at this point that Morrighan would notice that he somehow slipped another flower in her hair.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Oh damn, he did it." Mercade says. He saw Max, and he's shooting that huge-ass gun at his friend. THAT'S RIGHT MAX. YOU'RE HIS FRIEND AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT. "All right!" He calls back to his friends in the bar. "LET'S GET THEM!" With that epic rallying cry, Mercade pulls his own gun, a pearl-handled revolver like you might see a magician use on stage. He spins it in his hand as he leaps from the doorway, throwing himself to one side as he shoots to keep the enemies diving for cover, ruining their aim!

Deidra has posed:
Deidra knows shotguns are dangerous weapons after all they remained in use for a very long time with only altering them to be able to carry more ammo than one or two shots. Claytin is not to be underestiamted and she doesn't dodge she quickly casts a barrier that is able to take the force of the blast before it collapses from the force of the blast she mangest a spell casting but Clayton is uneffected by it.

She starts casting again this time a larger chain of magical assaults more ice a heck lot more ice she's trying to freeze him in place from the looks of it.

Will Sherman has posed:
"Max!" he shouts out, seeing where the shot was lined at.

Will moves, to the side, narrowly avoiding the gun aimed at him, and ducks under the next...moving blindly and letting fate move him to where he needs to be...

His eyes narrow, as he flips over the two downed chumps and moves to grab Clayton's large weapon, his hand wrapping around the barrel, even as it slightly burns his hand from touching the recently fired gun. His hand moves to tear the thing away from Clayton, and then...

Uses it as a club, to try and repeatedly smash the hunter across the face, moving viciously to try and smash him, taking little to no grace in doing so. He tears at strings, aiming to try and rend the fate from Clayton's body, Clayton can even, for a fraction of a second, see the string like things that were once apart of him...attempted to be torn out.

Avira has posed:
"He did? He's..." Avira can only sort of hear Mercade muttering and shouting, between the guns going off and Mercade not exactly shouting every word himself! There's far more important things to worry about at the moment besides figuring out what Mercade's talking about.

Such as 'getting shot', even through the bar. Nobody, fortunately, gets to see how bad it is until she pulls out from her hiding spot. Avira doesn't do so immediately, pushing a hand over wound on her back before crawling along the length of the bar so she doesn't get stuck being aimed at in the same place as seconds ago.

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
This man.

This man, this man, this man, this man, this man-

"WHA--!?" Morrighan cried, cut off from her thoughts as gunfire grazed by Max, tearing into his tuxedo and drawing blood. A worried look crossed her face then. "Your arm..." She mumbled, raising a hand slightly, which began to glow with light.

Channeling healing magics into his arm, Morrighan just frowned as she continued to listen to him. "So I know nothing about you, yet you think you know everything about me. How wonderful." She grumbled, shaking her head slightly in annoyance. Despite that however, a small smile began to edge it's way onto the dark elf's face. It was a full, genuine smile, but it seemed to be creeping it's way up to that.

Wait a second. Something was off. She felt a weight in her hair.

Reaching up with her off hand, she felt her hair and blinked a couple times in surprise.

HOW?

Actually no, nevermind. It was better to not ask. He wouldn't give her a straight answer anyhow. Not to mention that it was hardly the time to be asking about how the gentleman thief had even managed to pull off such a thing in the first place.

"You are a fool. I hope you realize that." Morrighan said plainly and openly, her small smile growing a bit bigger as she said so.

Avira has posed:
"He did? He's..." Avira can only sort of hear Mercade muttering and shouting, between the guns going off and Mercade not exactly shouting every word himself! There's far more important things to worry about at the moment besides figuring out what Mercade's talking about.

Such as 'getting shot', even through the bar. Nobody, fortunately, gets to see how bad it is until she pulls out from her hiding spot. Avira doesn't do so immediately, pushing a hand over wound on her back before crawling along the length of the bar so she doesn't get stuck being aimed at in the same place as seconds ago.

Clayton has posed:
Mercade gets all gunkata on the gunmen, but they move quick, ducking behind various objects of cover now to avoid the hail of bullets. They return fire on Mercade, blasting away while some reload. Luckily for the group, the thugs are armed with late 19th century/early 20th century guns rather than 21st ones or even lasers. So they are more prone to jamming and reload slower. Deidra fires at Clayton but he easily jumps away from the ice magic, which coats the ground in front of Cloud Nine with slick ice. "Monster," he growls, glancing up at her.
But the distraction gives Will Sherman an edge as he rips the gun from Clayton's hands and smacks him in the face with it. A lot of blood flies from his mouth as he jerks to the side, then gets smacked in the jaw with a THWOCK so hard he levitates off the ground briefly. His hair is now a mess and he's got some bad knocks to the face, one eye already swelling and blood flowing down from his mouth. Will grabs at his strings of fate...and some of those things are very, very dark. It's like digging into cake and discovering a severed finger. Clayton stares at Will.
Slowly, Clayton reaches to his hip and pulls something from a sheathe. It is a very large, very SHARP sabre. "Give. That. Back." He lunges at Will, trying to chop the hell out of him with the blade.

Soan Sagittarius has posed:
Sometimes, when you're in that kind of jobs, you have to learn to act on your heart, instinct, and take some risks. This is one of these moments.

A thunder clap happens from above, into the skies. A loud voice, to be recognised as the actual thunder itself, booms donward as a flame flies downward with speed, arced over some distance away from Traverse Town. That voice, becoming closer and closer, is intoning a set of words, which are as follow:

"FOR THE SKIES ABOVE THE SKYYYYYYYYYY!"

Without very much warning, a tall man, coated in a wide, large full plate armor, dark blue and shaped like a humanoid dragon, wielding a burning spear, plummet downwards with a target in mind, the culmination of this stupidly impossible leap and the spear's other end: Clayton. Whenever he impacts the man or the ground produces no sounds for a second, until the sounds wave of his descent catches up, bringing the thunder clap along with the armored figure's fall.

Maximilien has posed:
It is like he stepped out of a storybook or something, the kind little girls read when they're wishing for a handsome prince to come save them from a life of mundanity and drudgery. Here he is, in all his finery, the red-haired French prince in his tuxedo and his cape, doing the impossible like it's the routine!

Max laughs as she reaches up to heal him. She seals his arm, the blood flow dimming to nothing; it was already not much, but that's alright, he wasn't going to turn down healing. "You cannot mend my suit as well, can you? The blood will run terribly, and it will need restitching...but, alas." Max clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Then she smiles - just a little bit - and his own widens into a grin. "Now.../that/ is a beautiful smile, ma belle."

Max skirts to a halt as some of Clayton's goons come around, preparing their sharpshooting. He clucks his tongue again, looking moderately annoyed - and then Soan descends from the sky, and Max takes the opportunity to bolt to the right, going across to the next roof with a much easier jump. He lands, then wobbles for a moment, taking a second to remove his hand from Morrighan and cast another Float spell. Clayton would have another great chance, if he could get his gun back from Will - or his sharpshooters would.

"I have been called far worse, I assure you. If I am a fool, then I would at least hope that I am a dashing, handsome fool, and not a fool like monsieur Sherman. The, ah, the smelly one with the hat?" Max hooks her back into his arms. "Hold tight and stay pressed to me. If I am hit, the train station is this way."

Avira has posed:
Once the heat is off her and Avira has done all she's needed to treat her own wound, Avira finally hops out from behind the bar, crawling over top it. It's easy to see that Clayton and his goons have stuck to the outside approach so she quickly heads to the door.

The back door. There was mention of a back enemy before, right? Once there, she doesn't attract all that much attention to herself at first-well, once she lets her magic fly, there's no helping.

She's looking for the snipers and sharpshooters, picking off one goon at a time with expertly aimed ice magic.

Will Sherman has posed:
Will's eyes widen!

Oh <GOOSEHONK> you know stuff is real when the gun weilding guy pulls out a SWORD. Well, okay, sabre, but still. Will swings the gun at the sabre, and manages to parry the weapon, aiming to block with everything he had. He had to try and either damage the weapon or keep it under his control as long as possible...he needs to buy Max time. His eyes narrow, as he manages to just narrowly, slide the weapon back away from him as he moves to hop around Clayton, before spinning, aiming to try and aim a kick for the side of the face of Clayton. He flips back, aiming to quickly draw the weapon down again, aiming to bash Clayton's head in, before landing, and then pointing the gun at him. "Oh hey, I know how to use a firearm, how about that!" BANG!

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
"That is enough out of you." Morrighan grumbled, letting her smile melt away into a frown again. Such an expression on her face was truly alien to begin with. At least a genuine smile. Ergh, those were hard to do. "And I deeply regret to inform you that no, I cannot mend your clothes." She replied with a bit of sarcasm, looking back as some insane man in armor came dropping down from the sky.

"This cannot be serious. More people have shown up now?" Apparently that was a rhetorical question as the elven woman glanced back at Max, frowning at his question. "Whether or not you are a dashing, handsome fool means nothing now. You are simply a fool." And no, she did not want to think about Will. Even if he /was/ currently defending her...in a way. Huh. How strange.

Finding herself hooked back into the frenchman's arms, Morrighan relented and held herself closer. "Very well, but do not get hit regardless. It would be quite troublesome if you were. Not that I care about you in particular!"

Deidra has posed:
Deidra has taken a lot out of herself with that series of spells and she's now going to try to recover a bit as she casts some other spells upon Clyton and then she looks up ists a bird, no it's a plan it's? Wait who the heck is that it's not Super Man it's someone armored up like a Dragon she thinks dropping in on them and she starts to chant her spells again and trying to lay down a curse upon Clayton. Also what the heck is going on with this Super Dragoon?!

Percival has posed:
Begin Dramatic Entrance!

Clack, clack, clack. Talons upon the stairwell as he gradually becomes visible to those upon the first floor of the establishment. Wait how'd he even get into the building in the first place during this mess? Ancient Gargoyle secret. All rumors to the contrary are just base slander. And of course the broadsword is drawn, and at a low guard, while the shield hangs casually at his side.

"You disappoint me, Sirrah. To think that a gentleman such as yourself brought a saber to a gun fight."

His wings furl in close to the chest, he's a big target, and he doesn't want to make himself any bigger to the gunmen. He closes the gap in short order, just after Will finishes SHOTGUNNING him with his own gun, hoping to give the Hobo King some backup against the big man with a sword. He doesn't exactly strike yet though. Rules of engagement and all that. He just kind of interposes himself.

Clayton has posed:
Clayton looks up as a very loud armored man soars from above to drop a spear through his face. However, Clayton can see this coming a mile away, and quickly hops to the side just as the spear slams into the ground and sends a shockwave across the street. Clayton looks alarmed, pointing at him with his sabre. "Just who the devil are YOU? Are you with this smelly rapscallion child?" he asks, turning back to Will...who promptly knocks him over. He grunts as his head hits the pavement. He blocks the smash to his head with his sabre, then rolls before he gets shot, the buckshot slamming into the concrete.
He gets up, and sees Avira pick off a few more thugs with her ice bow. They scream as they go down, some firing their guns wildly. It's starting to break apart. Clayton suddenly flips over Will's head and rips the gun back into his own hands, sheathing the sabre. Then /the other gargoyle/ shows up, just as a curse grips him and the rest of the men. Clayton clutches his chest and kneels briefly. "You two? You loathsome creature. You're no Brit. You defend that elf, too?" He stands back up, eyes furious. "If you all are not willing to let individuals like THAT!" he points at the rooftops. "...recieve their just desserts, then the Heartless have already won! Civilization is at an end! Insane acts must be met with swift, violent action. Allow me...to demonstrate!" He grins, raising his shotgun and bellowing at the remaining men.
The men form up as Clayton suddenly leaps up to the rooftops, in sight of Max. He grins as his shotgun suddenly EXPLODES with energy, aiming it at Max, Will, Percival and Soan as he fires EXPLOSIVE SHELLS at them, which enough explosive force to bowl anyone over.
After this, the remaining men and Clayton unload everything they have on these four. Revolvers, shotguns, rifles, primitive machine guns and even a ladies pocket pistol. Don't ask where that came from. They don't pause to reload, or cover, or any of that.

Soan Sagittarius has posed:
DRAGOON MAN lands soundly on the ground, impacting the stone with cracks then leaping almost immediatedly backward, showing more agility than a man wearing that much metal should honestly have. He pull out his spear out of the crack it created, spinning it and giving the 'elf' and the others that were fighting the man. Huh. Strange winged creatures, theses. Yet, he senses no darkness into them... And yet, he feels some of it coming from that man with the woman. Why are the two darkness tainted fighting one another? First, one chaos spawn at a time, worry about the other next.

"No, I am not." Intones Dragoon Man, still spinning his spear and aiming it at Clayton... who will be hearing none of it and is already unloading exploding buckshot his way. His men are noticed, the armored man looking upward as they appear, looking back down at Clayton just in time to be on the reciving end of explosions, bringing his spear in a defensive posture.

Smoke and dust surrounds him, explosions impacting soundly against metal.

"I do not know them! Yet, I do not need to, servant of Chaos!" Dragoon Man intones out, stepping through the cloud, his armor a little battered, but still in one piece mostly. "I can sense your taint! It /stinks/ from miles away! No, I do not know these people, but I do not need to know them to aid them in this fight, for I am... DRAGOON MAN!"

The dragoon takes a deep breath in, the face mask suddenly unfolding as he breaths foward a burst of electrical flames, condensed at fire then spreading outward in Clayton's direction, as well as his men. "

Maximilien has posed:
Maximilien laughs again. "You would be surprised at how kind the world really is. Perhaps you should rejoin it - I think you would find yourself most welcome at the Twilight Detective Agency at this point."

Avira probably feels a horrible chill run down her spine for some reason, like somebody just walked over her grave.

Max tilts his head down at her. "That was hardly an answer, you know. I am aware that I am a fool. Being a fool is part of my life. There are certain situations that make me into a far bigger fool, and a beautiful woman in trouble is certainly one of them. Something about having a code of honor, I suppose...ah well, c'est la vie et la guerre, non?"

Max moves to the left, going for the next closest roof towards the train station. He laughs. "I will do my best, ma belle." He offers her another daring grin; he looks untouchable as he leaps aross the chasm, his foot touching down on the end of the roof-

And, with the reflexes of something close to a god, releases Morrighan, pushing her away from him just as the explosive shell smashes into his back. Max flies up, up, up, and then comes crashing down, down, down, landing on the roof. Hard. He coughs, blood spilling out of his mouth and onto the ground; his cloak is torn through, his jacket the same. He lays there, unmoving for a very, very long moment, wallowing in pain. Everything about his life is pain; moments become infinity, blood pours from his body. He is a thin man, a weak man; he is not built for taking a punch, let alone an explosive bullet. He just lays there, bleeding.

Then he pushes himself up, his eyes a pure, terrible black. He throws out his hand, and lets out a roar. "I...MADE A PROMISE!"

"I WILL NOT DIE BEFORE SYLVIE IS FREE!"

"EVEN IF I MUST USE THE SHADOWS THEMSELVES TO SURVIVE!"

The darkness parts in front of Clayton, and a Heartless rises from the ground, a dark little thing with a pair of blades and big yellow eyes, trailing shadows. It pauses for a moment, considering Clayton carefully, and then it punches him right in the face.

Will Sherman has posed:
Will shouts in surprise as the hunter snaps the gun back away from him! No!

He was too late, he was gone in an instant. However, Will gets serious, as he leaps upwards after Clayton, running up the side of the wall and coming down. However, this was right into the barrel of Clayton's gun...it fires once, already taking his shot at Max! Will turns, "MAX!" he shouts, His eyes narrowing....he doesn't push down the feelings he feel. Pain, sorrow, a sense of failure...that he just let down a friend. No these are his to deal with...anger follows, as he turns towards Clayton who is already aiming another shot for his friends...then at him. Will's hand suddenly swings, and the bullets aimed at him are simply...punched away by his fist. There was a million to one shot that it could be done, but...

Will just did it, his hands glowing with a dark red aura. Will's eyes are baleful, Clayton doesn't see just a little kid anymore, he see's...SOMETHING else. A being that is far older, far wiser than himself. This is something bigger on the food chain, and it was now pissed off. Will didn't like to use this power, not unless he had to...and hurting his friends was the best way to do this.

The strings all around Will are laid bare to him, he can see them all...Clayton's and his own, he can see the dark things in his soul, and Will then dives right at him, aiming to try and knock him silly with the first strike...and then he aims both hands INTO Clayton...

Will aims to grab the man's strings, aiming to repeatedly strike at the threads that tie him to the world, to litterally rend them, before he rips...his hands glowing with a dark power, before he brings the fist down in a simple motion...aiming to try and tear them assunder. The power not QUITE enough to completely remove Clayton, but if he hits...he will know how it feels to have his existance struck at.

Will jumps back...wait...what...? He stares at the heartless, and then back at Max. He remembered seeing the shadows in his aura...the whispy strands of darkness...

Deidra has posed:
Deidra has not been unloading to much heavy power she's been acting more to support her allies and keep the British bounty hunter off balance with her magic which seems to be working out for the most part and he's not directly targeting her so that's good and then Percy comes into join the battle she'll thank him later right now she's got to worry about Clayton clearly is a master of the shotgun and it's use in combat.

"The Empire...."

She's just cut the hell off by MAxi, who is Sylvie? Wait use the shadows to surive what is Max doing? She stares in abject horror as as not the darkness being used. She understasnds there are some who have ... tapped it to some degree but the fact A heartless has been summoned she stares in just utter abject horror nearly dropping her tablet unable to act for the moment.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"No! This isn't right! Look, we can-" Mercade yells, but it's too late. Clayton explodes Maximillian, and a strange, masked man with a spear appears as well as Percival. Mercade blinks at the chaos. This situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. "Dra... Dragoon Man?" Mercade stammers... And then he looks up, seeing the bullets hammer into Max, causing him grevious damage. "Max..." He says, his eyes widening. "MAX! DON'T!" He yells, reaching out. "IT'S GOING TO DESTROY YOU!"

He seems unable to decide what to do at this point, looking between Clayton and Max helplessly.

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
"Welcome? Here? Please, they all abhor my existence surely..." Morrighan replied rolling her eyes at the very idea presented. Seriously? Join the TDA? That was almost as inane as joining VALKYRI! ...Wait a second, she did sorta, kinda join, didn't she? Nevermind! No one has to know!

"Hardly an answer, you say?" SHe repeated, smirking at him. "Well then, now you know how it feels to be given the runa-" But She didn't get to finish her rebuttal. Leaping across the rooftop, Morrighan was left completely unprepared when Max had pushed her away from him. Just in time as an explosive shell struck him clear in the back.

"A-Ahhh!" She cried, falling back and shielding herself from the force of the explosion. Once the smoke cleared, the dark elf lowered her arms, staring at the phantom thief's fallen body. "...H-Hey now...This is hardly the time for you to be..." She spoke shakily, reaching for him from where she had tumbled hesitantly.

And then he pushed himself back up and let out a chilling roar. The action caused Morrighan to scuttle back a bit, watching with confusion and a bit of fear as her would be liberator swung out a hand, summoning a...heartless? Wait a moment, why in the world was he summoning heartless? This made no sense!

"W-What is the meaning of this!?" The healer demanded nervously, staring warily at Max. Without waiting for an answer however, she rose to her feet, light magic beginning to radiate from her form. It was true that he had told her to go on if he was hit, but...She was not going to do that just yet. Shaking her head, Morrighan began to channel healing magic to Max, trying to put his current state out of her mind while she worked.

This has officially gone past weird and stepped right into the territory of plain scary.

Avira has posed:
Avira shudders suddenly. She's not sure why. Her ice magic has never made her feel this way before!

The final goon goes down and Avira clenches a fist, drawing it down next to her. "Yessss." Satisfied, she starts to rush from the spot in the back ally to around the building to the front of the building where the rest of the TDA have been duking it out with Clayton. She knows it's happening over there because she can hear the yelling, from the hunter himself to Max. Max's screaming, in particular, she found some cause for concern since it sounded like he was in a terrible amount of pain.

Not strictly gifted in the art of white magic, Avira still had some tricks in her favor. Rather than dogpile onto Clayton (their mysterious Dragoon Man seems to be handling this pretty well anyway!), she about-faces back into the alley so she can climb her way up one of the walls and onto the roof, aided by well-practiced parkour skills.

But when she reaches Max, she actually balks at his appearance, recoiling a little. Her eyes dart to Morrighan, "Well don't just stand there gaping like a fish, heal him!!"

And she does. "...okay good."

(DID Morrighan join VALKYRI? Maybe. Avira considers it a temporary position given what happened shortly afterwards.)

Percival has posed:
Now Percival barely even knew who that 'Elf' was, but that didn't stop him from retorting. "This 'loathsome creature' would defend anyone from the madness you've wrought here! We have a word for tossers such as yourself. Blighters who claim to be civilized, but whose idea of civilization is merely a thin veneer which hides their base and savage nature. We call them Yanks!"

Normally he would have said French, but with Max around, it had a tendency to get overused.

As Clayton rains explosive shells upon him, Percival casually lifts his shield, and then swings it like a baseball bat. The shell inexplicably does not explode, and instead arcs up high into the air, over the rooftop. Clayton would hear a looney toons 'whistling' noise for a few seconds before the shell lands back at his feet. Perci wasn't sitting around to admire his handiwork though, instead he was already climbing, at ludicrously fast Gargoyle climbing speed to make his way up to the rooftop which Max was suffering upon.

No he didn't have any healing magic, he just knew enough about combat medicine to try and help with stabilizing Max. If he noticed the Heartless or the darkness at all, he doesn't even stop to consider its connection with Max. Instead as he approaches Max, he's attempting to get a better look at the wound. Suspecting a sucking chest wound from the blood pouring out of his mouth, he'd be trying to put a hand against the wound to apply pressure while Morrighan and Avira work at healing him. Once the magic starts to knit away at Max's insides, he would rip up a good chunk of the stonework and throws it as hard as possible in Clayton's general direction.

Clayton has posed:
The first thing that happens in Clayton's perception is that the Frenchman reveals himself to be a user of the Heartless. "What..." Then it punches him in the face and busts his nose, causing him to stagger back and clutch his bleeding face. He can feel the Heartless looking at him. Not that again! "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU FOOL?" he yells at Max. "WHAT ARE YOU?" Yet, he feels something weird. A strange sense of kinship with the man. Fleeting, but it was there. What the hell?
Clayton is snapped out of it when Will reveals his own power. "Are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you people?" he yells, eyes wide in terror as the kid lunges at him to rip the threads of his fate apart. The darkness in Clayton recedes completely...for now. He leaps away, getting considerable distance to avoid Will's attacks. He turns as Dragoon Man spews fire at him, and he rolls with a yelp, the flames setting a few barrels of trash alight.
"The elf /summoned a lich to blight the earth/. At what point will this fact finally penetrate your thick, bloated SKULLS?" he yells in exasperation. "You could have prevented all this! Handed her over! All this could have been avoided, damn you all." He grits his teeth in anger. Just then, Percival deflects his explosive shell at Clayton which strikes his back, flinging him forwards. He lands with torn clothing, a burnt back and a fresh cut on his forehead. He groans, yet still rises. Clayton is made of sterner stuff. One of the remaining goons runs up. "We gotta get outta here, boss!" Clayton shoves him away. "Fine. You all can have her. I hope you enjoy your own company, you disgusting monsters. Beasts, all of you. I wash my hands of this." He sounds tired, the tone of a man defeated but still feels he is right, unaware of what is inside him.
He lights a cigar and tosses it onto an overturned barrel of olive oil, setting a fire barrier between himself and the rest. Now the men are in full retreat, and so is Clayton.

Maximilien has posed:
Max knows the cost of this action. Max knows the cost of what he is doing. What he is performing. What he has done. He knows the cost to his heart; it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It is a cold, shooting pain that goes right through his soul, a supernatural ache. The soft, healing hands of Morrighan and the first aid of Avira are no warmth there; Max murmurs something, quietly. Then he pulls himself, wearily, to his feet, and crushes his hand tight into a fist.

The Heartless looks up at Max curiously, then vanishes back into the Darkness from whence it came.

"You are...I think...safe now, ma belle," Max observes calmly, his smile back on his face. "Merci. For the healing, I mean - thank you. You are a much kinder person than you give yourself credit for."

Then he stumbles a little, leaning hard on his cane before he tumbles to the ground and hurts himself badly.

Soan Sagittarius has posed:
Clayton getting out of the way was noteworthy enough for the Dragoon. What, however, got most of his attention was that pretty boy summoning forth a strong wave of darkness. That man that he thought he will look at afterwards. He shields himself from the darkness, raising an arm to protect his eyes for some reasons, staring at the heartless being summoned.

Clayton flees, but Dragoon Man's job is not over.

"You!" The armored man says, approaching, slamming the butt of his spear into the ground, ignoring most of the other members of the TDA as of now. They looked fine, they looked alive. "Do you have any idea what you have done!? To yourself and this area?! The Taint of Chaos is not one to play causaully with!" He takes a deep breath, shaking his head as Maximillian falls into a wounded heap, turning to look at the others, giving the Gargoyles a brief, single pause.

"I came here for what I had to do -- but keep that one in watch. The Darkness consumes what it touches, if it is not fought. Help him, for his sake and yours."

Percival has posed:
Let Clayton rant, and rot. The Gargoyle didn't care. His arguments may have actually been considered persuasive in another time, another place, under more civilized circumstances. But such things fall flat when one comes in medias res only to find him and his goons shooting up Cloud Nine. Perci's only concern was with Max. And it certainly wasn't to condemn him. If anything, he was the last person who should be judging anyone. So when Soan speaks his condemnation, he only lifts his chin to look at the man.

"Thank you for your aid, Sir. But you need not worry about this one here. Whatever demons he might have lurking within....we take care of our own."

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
"......." Silence was all Morrighan had to offer in the face of this aftermath. Here she was, essentially free to run off and do whatever she pleased. Clayton had given up the fight and fled. And she was not locked in that infernal room. But...

Somehow, she managed to feel a bit guilty about all of this. Or at least this immediate situation.

So rather than flit off to parts unknown, Morrighan crept over to Max's fallen form, kneeling down and continuing to heal his wounds. A single time wouldn't be enough. Avira is given a look in the meanwhile. "...Do not misunderstand. I am simply...returning the favor." Or so was her reasoning.

Nevertheless, here she was. Still among them for now.

Avira has posed:
Heartless are serious business, such serious business that even their attacker starts shouting at Clayton for it. By now, Avira has actually withdrawn her blade, preparing for the possibility of fighting it or whatever Heartless Clayton would turn into if he doesn't flee it quickly enough.

But again Clayton brings up that lich-summoning point and Avira falls silent, aside from the creaking of leather from her fingerless gloves as they tighten upon the hilt of her Spine. Clayton flees and she doesn't chase the hunter, her sights falling upon the remaining Heartless. Surprisingly, it vanishes shortly afterwards.

The scarred woman turns to Max and regards him warily. He praises Morrighan for her help and her eyes narrow, darting over to the dark elf.

"Well he took a shotgun for you so it's only fair." Avira says evenly, watching her. "Hey wait-"

She turns away for a few moments and points to the mysterious DRAGOON MAN, "Who the heck ARE you?"

Deidra has posed:
Deidra is just kinda of numb there at what Max did the gargyoles wings slump her tail kind of drags at this point and she just looks a little lost as Soan speaks about Chaos for a moment. her Talons dig into the street a bit as she lets Clayton run the fithts' all gone out of her and the Luch summoning is a good point. She looks at Dragoon Man and her words echo Avira's. "Just who are you?"

Will Sherman has posed:
Will moves forward, but the fire causes him to fall back...no it wasn't worth it. Okay, he steps back, "Yeah, you run. Tuck that tail between your legs." he says, and turns towards...Soan is already talking to Max like that...and then he pauses.

Will walks, putting a hand on Soan's shoulder, "Nobody here is unaware of what the Heartless do...all of us here lost our homes to them." he says, calmly, and looks at Max. Morrighan is...showing concern and healing him, he can see the string forming, the bond weak, but with the right...help...

"Anyway, lets go back inside, and get a drink and something to eat? My food is already cold."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Clayton's words sting Mercade, as he reels from the flaming barrier. The Detective looks on as the Heartless vanishes, those words roiling in his mind and heart. "Max..." He says, whispering to himself, and he turns away. He's not going to interrogate DRAGOON MAN right now. He isn't in the right mindset to deal with it. He does, however, head to Avira. "Avira... Are you all right?" He asks. He looks over. "I think... we'll need to talk with Max. And we should probably... Let her go."

Soan Sagittarius has posed:
Dragoon Man's shakes his head, snapping his spear in twin halves of light, which then vanishes, turning to gaze at Avira and Deidra. He seems to be more looking at the Gargoyle than the human. Percival also get a glance. Clearly not monsters, despite their apperance, their demanor proves it.

"My apology. I am Dragoon Man. I smelled the taint of Chaos, mine and my patrons' hated foe. Take care of your friend -- Death is not the end, when Chaos is involved. Do not let it spread to your souls."

The armored man crouches, getting prepared for a jump, gathering energy, before declaring. "I'll be watching. Call for me if you need help against the hordes of Chaos."

With a burst of air, stone and dust, DRAGOON MAN jumps upward, becoming an humanoid bullet into the distance.