The suits have all collapsed to the ground, though they twitch a bit and are clearly not dead.
The gunmen being down, Kishan moves out from her cover and towards the men under the balancing container, while being wary not to wander right under the multi-ton dangling death-trap.
As she does so, she drops her veil and calls out to them, "Careful; something is happening to the men in suits! They might not be down for long! And there is something powerful within the vehicle; strong magic!"
She reaches within the pocket of her coat again, bringing out a finely crafted blade. It looks like something of a hybrid of medieval arming sword and a rapier, bearing a long slim blade with a both a cutting edge and thrusting point.
"We should get those people down from that container as swiftly as we can; does anyone know how to operate that crane?"
"It should be pretty simple, but I think they're safer up there for now with all these bullets flying! Especially with that big cold guy in the car!" Aaron calls.
"Are you the one that caught that kid?"
"No, I think there are more players here than we can see. As for the people up there; the longer they sit up there, the greater chance that someone might try to drop them, or cut the cable, or they will just keep them captive if whatever they are up to," she gestures towards the Fomor and the car, "forces us to withdraw."
Latimer considered for a moment, before deciding that it would be best to be seen as up front. He dismissed the cloak he was under and nodded at Kishan.
Evening, Warden. That would be me. Give me a moment, and I'll see if I can figure out the controls for the crane. Do we have a backup plan, just in case?"
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Jarrod watched as the others gathered together before standing up and walking over. "Did I hear that right? You a warden?" he asked the lone female of the group as he got close. "Great, just what we need, some nutcase fanatic," he added before spitting on the ground. "If you're here, then I'm guessing these ain't regular traffickers, huh? Just my luck." Shaking his head, he glanced over at the one who stopped the kid from falling to his death and said, "Nice catch, or whatever it is you did. You another of them wizards?"
He slung his shotgun over his shoulder and looked around. Noticing the twitching bodies on the ground, he looked around for something to tie them up with.
hearing the call about strong magic in the car, John stops thinking about how you would replace the steel of the frame and thinks about why
"Bloody Fey Swine!"
stops worrying about not running over the fallen suits and twists his head side to side, looking for an open container to steer his steed into
The smoke coalesces into a figure, "I'm Wisp, and I don't like the cold at their backs." He's shoot a slim jet of superheated smoke at the source of the cold on one of them.
Detective, there is plenty of rope around
As the smoke lances toward the suits, it singes their jackets, which sizzle and steam. The energy in the smoke is dissipated by some sort of interference, leaving wisps of smoke floating up from the figures.
At the same time, there is a loud crack as the rear window of the sedan is pushed off and flies toward Odd John
A man dives out of the back window. He is about seven feet tall and quite ugly. His mouth is large and toadlike, and his hands are even larger than expected and slightly webbed. He rolls to a landing lightly behind the car. He is wearing a suit similar to that of the guards, but more finely tailored.
Warden Kishan looks at her new companions, even the disagreeable one with the mistaken view of the Wardens, and indicates the large frog mouthed monster. "Well gentlemen. That is a Fomor, and they are not nice creatures. Since the fall of the Red Court, they've been making moves into the cities, and kidnapping everyone with a spark of magic they can get their hands on."
Smoke will pour out, once again not particularly bothering the people who seem to have come to help out. As it billows out he slips up out of reach of the large gentleman.
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"So, Fomor. Right then," Vessani said, emptying his shotgun of rock shot and switching to slugs. "Anything I should keep in mind, other than be thankful I'm not a fly?" Looking around, he was a little shocked as one of the men disappeared into smoke, but now wasn't the time to be distracted. "Remind me to get a beer if I survive."
DC 15 not affected by running water, often use entropy magic, which is the magic of undoing, often use acid weapons
DC 20 Often abduct humans and especially less powerful practicioners, vulnerable to sonic.
"They're a mongrel race of left over forgotten wannabe-gods and monsters, mixed with goodly dose of fey blood. They use a hodge-podge of magic; mostly entropic sorts, and some like using acid as weapons. Water doesn't bother them, obviously, but they dislike the touch of iron, some as much as true Fey, and they can be hurt by loud noises. Things that dehydrate them probably wouldn't go wasted either."
continues to ride the car as it heads towards the prone suits
"Hey, Shotgun," he calls out, "If we're both alive after, I'm split mine with ya'."
waves the growler of Harpoon Stout he's still got with him
"I'll take your word for it."
"Anyway, I take it that means it's open season on these guys?"
Aaron charges in and slashes the hulking Fomor.
CRITICAL HITS
When you make an attack roll and get a natural 20 (the d20 actually shows 20), you hit regardless of your target’s Defense, and you score a threat. The hit might be a critical hit (sometimes called a “crit”). To find out whether it’s a critical hit, determine if the attack roll total would have normally hit your opponent’s Defense. If so, then it is a critical hit. If not, the attack still hits, but as a normal attack, not a critical.A critical hit increases the attack’s damage bonus by 5. A critical hit against a minion allows no saving throw; the minion is automatically knocked out or killed.
Warden Kishan lifts up her sword-arm and reveals a golden bracelet on her wrist. For a second, it crackles with electricity, and then a booming thunderclap sounds out, as a bolt of lightning strikes down out of the sky, striking the spot where the Fomor is standing.
. . . Called Lightning (Linked Powers; Limited: Outdoors; Accurate 2, Improved Range 2, Indirect (Above))
. . . . . Blast 7 (Linked; Affects Insubstantial 2)
. . . . . Dazzle 7: Vision and Hearing (Linked)
Edit:
Down on one knee coming out of his roll, the toad is set upon by a hammering sword, the thunder of a shotgun, and the thunder of, well, thunder. He lets out a loud chuffing noise and drops unconscious to the ground. As he falls, something clatters beneath him. From one hand falls a large sword dwarfed by his stature, from the other falls a broken, half melted cell phone.
You hear the sound of sirens in the distance.
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"Right, now I need a beer. And maybe a chaser..." Jarrod mutters before turning towards everybody else. "Right. I think you should all high-tail it out of here. Cops are coming, and other than me, and maybe Ms. Warden here, I don't think you all would want the commotion that is about to happen." Gathering up some nearby rope, he finally gets to tying up the still-unconscious suits before going to search the body of the downed Fomor. As he gets close, he saw the sword that clattered onto the ground when the creature fell. Going to pick it up, he's surprised when a force keeps his hand from getting close to it.
"Well, guess that one's not for me," he said in surprise. Shaking his head, he turned from the unattainable weapon to search the body.
"He's right; there will be a lot of questions. I'm not sure I even want to be here to answer them. Mr... Buckshot? You sure you want to be here either? We can stay here until the police arrive, so that we can be sure none of the Fomor wake and get away, and that no one harms the captives in the Container. When the police arrive, I can hide us from them fairly easily, so we needn't answer questions unless we want to. Speaking of the captives..."
She turns to the teen cradling the charred figure that fell from the container above.
"Sir? Are you alright?"
Aaron is drawn to the sword dropped by the Fomor, and picks it up. Intriguingly, it seems to have a name, though it changes every time he looks at it.
"I'm keeping this." Aaron says appreciatively, before strolling over to where the kid fell.
"Is he all right? Do you need any more help here Warden? I think my acquisition is shot, so I should probably leave."
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"On second thought, they can handle the crane." Latimer opines, before adjusting his jacket and disappearing entirely.
Latimer runs up a stack of crates to keep an eye on things, but stay out of the way, or the authorities' notice. Once he's there, he trains his wand on the loose crane hoist, and with a mutter of "Illigo!" tries to bind it back together until someone gets the thing on the ground. Again, his wand fails him, and Latimer curses under his breath, and is forced to simply hope that the people inside can hold on until someone who knows what they are doing can get them down.
"Hey, we can't leave the kid for the cops, they're not set up for mages and the fire came from inside the crate."
heads over to the boy, hoping the burned men can be helped
"Anything on the goons to say who else is involved or what they were going to do with these folks?"
Jasper will fly up to the crane. Looking over the unfamiliar controls, he will reach out and pull one lever...
Jasper is able to roughly but safely put the container on the ground. A crowd of people begin jumping from it as soon as it is only a few feet from the ground. They look around, panicked and confused. The crane operator is nowhere to be seen.
The scared teen turns his face toward the voice of the Warden and you see realization and horror slowly creep across his face.
"No, no, please..." he says in English, in a way that makes you suspect he doesn't speak much but knows that these words might placate. Then, switching to
.
Aaron will translate the kid's words to Kishan, but otherwise stay silent since he's pretty sure the kid thinks he's an evil Jinn.
checking to see if the kid needs healing, using Heal R7 if necessary
"Let's take this show on the road. No need to involve the cops if we don't need to."
facing the kid, speaking slowly and calmly, trying to convey meaning by manner since he doesn't speak Arabic
"Calm down, kid. We need to leave now. We're not trying to hurt you."
"Someone want to tell me how we're getting out of here?"
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Quickly pocketing the wallet and phone, Jarrod stood up and watched as the container was lowered, the people inside quickly escaping. Walking over to the others, he said, "I got a truck parked not to far from here, if we leave quickly we should be gone before the cops show up. Once on the road, let me know where you want me to take you. I'll talk to a few people I know to get it straightened out."
Warden Kishan looks at the frightened kid.
How'd he recognize me? I'm not wearing my warden's cloak, and every warden's sword is different... I don't think I've seen him before. Is he a parolee? Or someone with the Doom of Damocles, perhaps?
She moves forward and has a look at the charred body. If he is dead by magic, things may just go from bad to worse for this boy...
Speaking softly in English she says, "Who were you trying to escape? The Fomor?" She points to the steaming form of the large frog-like creature. "You said 'we' lost control; you and this other were trying to use your magic to burn open the doors?"
She looks at his face directly, coaxing him to look up at her, but not touching him. She puts away her sword inside her jacket. To the others, it looks as though she is sliding it into a sheath under her coat, though as she does, there is no corresponding shape beneath it to indicate where the scabbard might be, and she she is done, she releases the handle and her coat falls flat against her side again, with no sign of room for the wide guard.
Her eyes meeting his, she waits to see if he responds, or if he lifts his eyes to meet hers and thereby jump starts a soulgaze.
John, the kid is ok. Dehydrated and malnurished, his hands look badly sunburned, but mostly fine.
He does not respond to English, but stares confusedly.
Turns out the kids is too wily to get suckered into a soul gaze, so he knows something, at least. There are two bodies, one burned extensively, in so places to the bone, over most of the upper body. It looks like he was hit by a flame thrower. The man the boy is holding is much less burned, most of the damage concentrated in what is almost a slash across his face. There is, however, a hole in his head that could only have been burned by a plasma cutter or magic, and there is no plasma cutter here or in the container.
The other container-dwellers look to be contemplating whether they should hide, flee, or surrender, with a variety of answers beginning to surface.
Jasper checks out the bodies. He didn't know if this was related to those following him, and he didn't quite want to pry. He'll turn to the redhead guy, "Thanks, but I've got my own ride. Name's Wisp, though. Just got into town. Stuff like this happen often?"
Detective: "I wouldn't mind a ride back into town."
Kishan: "Does it look like a magical death?"
She holds up a hand to stop Aaron from translating her for now. The kid might understand more English than he was letting on, of course. "Death appears to have been caused by a concentrated flame. I don't see a mundane source."
She signals to Aaron to resume translating, "Son, we will need to leave, and get to a secure location. Can you tell me your name? What happened here? You said the fire escaped your collective control. Which of you was controlling the magic? Or was it a group endeavor? If you tell me the truth, I will do all I can to help you."
What he said makes him sound known to the Wardens. I will have to contact them in order to determine what influence his history might have on these happenings. I hope that this was merely a tragic accident... And that the White Council will accept that.
Creates a pair of body-bags
"Should we take the bodies with us? It might save trouble all around if they're not found here and ya can do a full look-over later."
If this seems agreeable, he'll treat the bodies with respect, but bag them neatly, before hoisting both over his shoulder. If not, he's OK with that, too.
"Where's that ride, Shotgun? And here's that beer I promised."
hands Jackson a full growler of stout
"Fresh from the keg, not an hour ago."
turns to Wisp
"If ya need it, I know a place ya can get a room, as long as ya can pay and not cause trouble." looks around "O' course, trouble is relative."