CoR From the Ashes...

Everyone wanted her gone. But for spellwork this powerful--strong enough for even non-magic folk to detect--the assault on her senses was one so obscene and grotesque that it was impossible to ignore. There were guns pointed every which way, and a couple at her even. Still, she ignored all of them except Desmond.

In Iverian, she responded to him. "Oi, I know your voice. Desmond, aye? I'm Margot. We chatted with Draaven on me first day 'ere. This wasn't natural. This is just wrong. I dunno who that is, but 'e shouldn't be 'ere." Even now that the spell had reached its end, the influence of the caster lingered, that same wrong-ness permeating the entire area. And even as the intensity waned, a new source stood out: the badger. It was the same essence, but the red wolf suspected that was some sort of residue from the magic that would fade over time.

In a blink, bolts of electricity guiding her footfalls with unnatural speed, she'd moved past the Bloodstones, standing between them and the interloper. "Go on, get yer folks outta 'ere!" she responded to Desmond. "I'm not as fragile as you may think, and this fella doesn't seem all that friendly. I'll hold 'im 'ere."

There was a crimson flash and her arms erupted in flames. Apparently whatever had enabled her to transmute her human form was still in effect. She suspected it was the source of the original spell, and as the spell's influence faded, her ability to likely would fade as well. A nearby sign, a red octagon with the word "STOP" written on it in bold, white Lutetian letters, beckoned to her. With a touch and a crimson flare she embrittled it, allowing her to break it off to a weaponized length, and then another flash undid that, instead making it as hard and strong as blade steel. She stared down the barbarian, brandishing her freshly-improvised axe. She would have preferred to wolf out, but she wasn't sure she'd have time for that. Her new friend here didn't seem particularly friendly.
 
Desmond didn't seem to know who the girl was, but didn't seem to think she was going to be an issue. Rhetta was prepared to keep an eye on her anyway, just because someone ought to - but before any more of that could get resolved, the situation shifted.

Magic, obviously, though a whole hell of a lot more magic than she'd ever seen. Sure, there was always a little magic around, but it didn't generally come in the splitting the heavens and earth variant. That was the sort of thing that came up in stories, usually the sort of stories that came out after most of a bottle of the really good whiskey - or at least the really strong stuff.

Mostly, she noticed the smell of it - death and decay, strong and saturating. Not something she was unfamiliar with, but it wasn't usually so much that it spilled out in waves. She'd almost take Sel's melted-candy vape scent over all of this. Almost.

There was undoubtedly a battle raging up there, something that could be seen in glimpses, or maybe in visions. It looked like fun... kind of made her want to jump in a little bit, but that wasn't what she was here for - so she'd hold the line, if she needed to, if it spilled over into the here and now and became her problem and not someone else's.

The portal closed, though, before it became an option - but it didn't close without leaving something behind, a man who looked quite a bit worse for the wear, and at the same time, looked like he'd be happy to keep going for a while, if he had to.

No idea who the hell he was, but that wasn't going to change anything. It didn't matter who he was, just who he wasn't - and he wasn't a Bloodstone, so that was that. What he was, that changed things. Werebadger - probably had pretty thick defense on the back, so that wasn't going to be much of an option. She'd have to take him head on, try to go in from the sides. Yanking someone's lungs out usually put a stop to their plans, she'd found, unless they could regenerate fast enough.

The axe was going to be an issue. It'd go right through bone, with a good swing - she wasn't going to be able to trap it in her flesh or something simple like that. Might have to sacrifice a limb and just hope to get the kill before he realized she wasn't a screaming mess or something. Possibilities, possibilities...

Her smile was lazy, almost insolent. Kind of a shame he was already half dead, otherwise it would have been more interesting. He could probably give her a serious ass-kicking, and fuck did she need that right now. Rage hadn't even tried. He'd pulled his hits or got wrapped up in whatever weird blue-eyed baby shit he had going on, and she'd walked away from that confrontation with a whole lot less than she'd wanted, and a fair bit less than she'd deserved.

Beside her, there was a shift of motion as magic stranger girl armed up, apparently having a bit in common with Rhetta's own mindset. Since the crazy magic weapon wasn't aimed in her direction, she was willing to take it. Might be good to have someone else around to deal with that axe, if that was the way this ended up going.

Snow and Sel called for the retreat, good. Desmond stayed, less good. Sure, if he could talk the newcomer around, that might be beneficial, but if he couldn't, it was going to make it harder to get him out of here unscathed. His call, she supposed. He was Second and all.

Baron had appointed him.

All right. She'd just have to trust he could talk fast - and if he couldn't do that, she'd have to trust he could run faster.

"I'll hold him."

Quietly. Just in case this went bad. Not I can take him, because while Rhetta was an arrogant shit when she wanted to be, there was a thing about accurate information and battle tactics and all. Her estimate said he could probably take her one on one, and the girl was a wildcard she wasn't willing to put into those calculations. But she'd hold him - for as long as she could, because she was a Bloodstone, and that was her job.

The one she should have been here to do, two weeks ago. The one that probably would have gotten her killed back then, so she wouldn't have to be standing here wondering, for the first time, what the fuck she was supposed to do if she outlived Baron.

She'd certainly never planned to.
 
The werebadger surveyed the group briefly, determining they posed no immediate threat. His attention then turned skyward, where the remnants of a dissipating spell shimmered faintly against the receding crimson backdrop. As the last traces of the spell vanished, the red hue faded into normal downcast grey. The werebadger’s focus returned to the group below, now appearing more formidable than before.

His gaze fixated on a smaller figure among them—a barefoot girl whose very presence exuded a magical energy. Fire and electricity danced around her, marking her as more of a threat with her own makeshift weapon in hand as well. With a grunt he dislodged his axe from the asphalt and began a slow, deliberate advance. His injuries were made more clear the closer he approached.

Arriving just outside striking distance, he leveled the axe at Margot with a guttural growl that reverberated like distant thunder. "You," he said, the intensity of his voice belying his quiet delivery. “I dunno wha’ ‘e ‘as on you an’ yours,” He gestured at the others behind Margot before continuing. “But you will reopen that portal you ‘ad for ‘im an’ send me through or I swear with the gods as my witness, I’ll end ye and yer friends before I find me own way back to ‘is fuckin’ castle and rip ‘is ‘ead off with me bare ‘ands.” There was no mistaking the gravity of his demand.

Desmond's question remained unanswered, the werebadger having no interest in conversation. It was clear he had only one thing in mind, only one mission. And in his mind, Margot was an obstacle to ensuring that mission’s completion.
 
Desmond's momentary confusion abated the moment the stranger took a step towards Margot. Questions could wait. He widened his stance and raised his firearm to point at the imposing individual. He had an angled shot that would leave Margot out of danger of being struck if he pulled the trigger. His aim was steady, and he was fully prepared to fire the weapon if necessary to protect the girl.

"'ey, that's close enough," Desmond growled. "Girl, did ye 'ave anythin' to do with this?"

He wagered she hadn't though. She hadn't arrived until after the sky had turned red, and he hadn't picked up any hostility or focused attention when she had arrived. How to diffuse the situation though?
 
The same question from both sides. They both boiled down to her being the cause of this disturbance. She broke eye contact with the badger just long enough to meet Desmond's. Then, loud enough for both of them to hear, she replied in Iverian.

"Nae, Desmon'. I don' think I'm even capable of somethin' like that, even if I wanna. An' I don' wanna. This was sick. Perverse. Wrong." Margot shook her head, then addressed the badger directly, still loud enough for both fellows to hear.

"I dunno who ye pissed off, boyo, but I'm small taters by comparison. There is no way I could tear through space, time, reality, whatever. I don' even know where ye came from, if I'm honest." She clicked her tongue as she spoke. "My money's on Iveria somewhere, based on the way ye talk. But if ye just wanna teleport, there's easier ways to get 'er done. Nae, this was bigger. I'm catchin' a contact just from bein' 'ere."

She was, of course, talking about her befuddling magical prowess at the moment. She was maintaining two enchantments on her human form and one on the STOP axe. And every minute they continued, she felt her grasp on the spells waning, as though the dissipation of the spell's residue was also dissipating the efficacy of her own spells.

Margot broke eye contact again to shoot a side-eye to the gruff lady next to her. In Iverian, "What the hell part of get outta here didn' ye ken, grandma?" And then, realization struck. She'd been speaking in Iverian since she got here. She knew Desmond could understand her, and this berserker could as well. But everyone else probably spoke Lutetian.

So she switched. It was less fluid than her Iverian, but a far cry better than it was when she first spoke to Draaven in the rail yard compound. Chatting with Re and generally learning by immersion were both remarkable tools for improving her language skills. "He wants for me to open a portal back where he came from. I don't know where that is and I don't know how to do it. But for the moment I have his attention and you should leave while you have the opportunity." She sized up Rhetta briefly. "Or give me a hand, I suppose. Your body language looks a lot like his," she said, leveling the STOP sign at Broch.

Under normal circumstances, she'd have no chance against this being in martial prowess. But with her jacked up on magic and the badger looking like he could scarcely stand, she gave herself even odds.

Of course, that was assuming it couldn't be diffused with words. She wasn't gonna hold her breath on that though.
 
The werebadger had a few words to say.

Unfortunately, they were in Iverian, and while Rhetta could competently recognize Iverian when she heard it, her grasp of the language was pretty much limited to a dozen or so words and phrases, none of which were likely to improve the current situation.

He'd said fuckin'. She recognized that one. The last sentence definitely sounded like it had some potential.

The girl also spoke Iverian, apparently, but since she seemed to be talking to Desmond, Rhetta would let him figure it out. She'd said something in Rhetta's direction, as well, starting with what the hell, which she also knew, but the rest of it not as much.

"Desmond, my Iverian's limited to I don't care how many nuts you put in your mouth, you fuckin' whore, you're not gonna shit out a squirrel and the like, I'm gonna need some help, here."

Oh, good, the girl had twigged on. Fabulous. She was talking about magic portals and leaving a fight, which were two more of the things that Rhetta had very little experience with.

At least Rhetta could answer the question. "Oh, you do know Lutetian. I'll stick around. That mystic bullshit's probably taking more out of you than you're letting on." It was a compliment, in its own way. At least now they knew what the werebadger wanted - but that meant they also knew there was no way he was going to get it, and he probably wasn't going to be particularly happy about that.

"I'm gonna poke him. You can kick his ass if he rips my limbs off or something."

Some people might have thought that she was joking about that. There were at least a couple here, though, who would know that she really, really was not. Rhetta flipped her knives closed, visibly, and walked up towards the werebadger, keeping her hands where he could see them and figuring out which of those arrows would be easiest to snap off and put through his eye if it came to it.

She stopped, though, just in front of him, making sure the magic user had a clean line of sight and a clean angle to hit him with the former stop sign, and put a fingertip on the edge of the werebadger's axe.

"Hi, cupcake. You look like a pincushion. You wanna put the axe down and have a chat, or we gonna throw down right here?"
 
Too much. This was all too much. And the werebadger was growing tired.

Desmond held a peculiar device towards him. It was a small, innocuous thing, lacking any obvious threat, yet Desmond’s stance and the sternness of his words painted a different picture. He was not to be trifled with.

The werebadger's eyes narrowed onto Margot. Could she truly be innocent? His mind raced, grappling with suspicion and weariness. The vampire said he had needed help to open the portal, and the beast had assumed he had meant another mage. Margot had been the only one here that fit the bill, but had he been wrong?

Then, another figure approached, sheathing her weapons and approaching with her hands raised. Her words were foreign to him, her tone did not aid to any concluding if they were friend or foe. He lowered his weapon slightly, though to move it away from her touch.

“I’m after the Vampiric Lord Nuadha. Do ye not work with ‘im? The fuck did ‘e send me?” His tone softened, skepticism now tinged with confusion. For the first time, he saw the world around him. Everything around him seemed alien—metallic steeds, towering structures unlike anything he’d known. His voice dropped to a whisper, his words still carried despite his exhaustion and uncertainty.

"... Where the fuck am I?" he murmured, bewildered by what he was finally seeing. He swayed, suddenly feeling the gravity of his wounds. He lowered his axe and planted the butt into the ground to lean against it slightly.
 
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