Vauban Deltaomega 's up!
Suddenly, amidst all the chaos, everyone's cell phone begins to ring. Not just the Magi, but the Poor Souls, too. They can even hear ringing coming from previously silent and empty rooms, dozens of ringtones filling the air in a shrill cacophony.
Someone, it seemed, really wanted to talk...
It was going to take a while before they could rejoin with the others. Just like Scooby Doo, everything starts to go wrong when they split up the gang. He thought ruefully. The echos of the cursed outside were drowned out by the incessant ringing of everything. Even his own phone was vibrating like crazy.
While he had a bad feeling about this, he reached into his pocket and answered his phone. He wave the others to the wall on the opposite side of the room. On the bright side he doubted the Poor Souls would reach them with the massive hole in the way.
Vauban Answers his phone
As Hamia moves to intercept the wretch, Campanella moves to shut the door firmly.
He steps away, head swivelling as he sweeps the area for an exit. Hunch and pure gut instinct drive him as he attempts to cobble a mind map of what he has seen of the floor from the depths of his conscious.
The Awakened need to band together before they can escape. He moves toward the wall that will best lead toward the others.
Telephones be damned!
Ultimately Campy will be doing what Vauban's doing. But to do that he has to work out the best direction to move in, which is what this roll is for.
Hamia's furry in mired in pity, her blow connects with little true force behind it.
Campanella's pragmatic practicality is on display as the door is closed, firmly behind them. Shutting the Talon and Mystagogue in with the Poor Wretch, but also literally closing the door upon any who sought to gain entrance. Eyes sweep the room, and he sees the door to the bathroom, and he sees the window. Large, with it's blinds pulled. In between the cracks, light spills through.
The elevator dings, finally reaching the correct floor, the poor souls stumble and fall out of the metal coffin. They see the hallway, they see the gaping hole in the floor, and they see 1408's open door.
With a terrified rage, the fall in line, with a dogged determination they go to the room, and with pain glazed eyes they see the Vauban-shaped whole in the wall.
So it seemed it was her and Vauban.
That wasn’t good. And then to add to the stress of being separated from the rest of the party, her cell was ringing.
Well fuck that. She didn’t have time to answer her cell.
She wasn’t a fighter, but she could still try and protect those around her. And right now, that was Vauban.
Calling upon Life, she attempts to throw another Shield on the Moros. She knew he probably had spells in place, but if things really went to shit, every extra layer of protection would help. And would maybe create less healing she would have to do.
Aurora is casting Organic Shield on Vauban, she has Life 4, not sure if it's contested, the Wiki doesn't say.
1 success
Vauban's ringtone cut off as he answered the call, the "uknknown caller" ID unsurprising as he brought it to his ear. The other phones continued to ring, though he heard a small laugh coming over the other end of the line.
"I'm watching on the cameras. You're making a big mess. A little fire should cover everything up, don't you think? No, don't answer. I'll make it simple. Start a fire, or I'll fire."
The brilliant resilience of Life cascades over the Moros, his blood flow improves, and his muscle tissue grows denser.
Back in 1399, the Wretch cries out, the women touched him with one of them! Rage and terror propels him forward and he pushes every soul searing drop of it into his next swing!
Aurora 14 ● Poor Wretch 12 (4L) ● Winter 11 ● Hamia 6/10 (Acceleration) ● Vauban (Org. Resilience, pot 1) ● Campanella 8 ● 5 Poor Souls (1408) ● 15 Poor Souls (Stairs)3 suxx before DEF and Shields
The earsplitting clamour of hundreds of phones going off at the same time was the proof to his bona fide speculation. Q.E.D., every room in the hotel had been compromised; had the trap already sprung or they were like baby seals, insensible to the pickaxes that would soon come crashing down their heads? He curiously eyed the Moros, the voice knew the answer.
Aurora's proficient spellcraft reminded him of his own duties. Turning over to their makeshift entry, he began chanting.
Winter begins chanting in High Speech