mayfield_rpg | 7th Protocol--[Action all over the place] ☢

[This wasn’t the first time someone precious to her had gone quiet. Orin had stopped talking right several days ago, but Okuu assumed she would come back to her senses soon.

But she didn’t.

She should have expected this; it happened to her master, her master’s sister…and now her best friend. For a brief, horrible moment, she felt like the only creature in all the world.

Then the yatagarasu had started whispering to her, and Utsuho knew she was not alone. The voice preached fire, unfettered burning destruction like a sun allowed too close to the earth. Normally, discipline kept the voice at bay—what little discipline could be forced into her head. It was easy to ignore the voice when one barely heard it.

…but this time, it was different. This time, that all sounded like a very, very good idea.

Utsuho shook out her wings and leapt into the air, heat shimmering at the edges of her feathers.]

[ACTIVE STUFF]

[The hell raven was moving fast this time; no lazy, mindless circling today. The heat gathering at her wings flickered into flames now, as if the air around her was catching light. More heat gathered into the octagonal cannon covering most of her arm until the light grew too bright to look at—and then tore free in a fiery beam that seared an ugly scar into the formerly pristine road below.

When Utsuho cast her other arm out, suns appeared at her fingertips—tiny, miniature suns that grew alarmingly and then sped away as if thrown, arcing out across the sky until they burned out the instant her focus went elsewhere. Some fell to the ground like stars and burn out in the grass there or hiss and spit clouds of steam when they sink into the pond; the hell raven wasn’t really paying attention. She wasn’t aiming at the ground for the most part, some small bit of her remaining conscience saying her master might be down there, her best friend, her master’s sister…most of her anger was directed at the sky, but engaging a challenge was not beyond her senses.

For all that could be said of Okuu’s lack of intelligence, there certainly wasn’t much remaining in her eyes now. She was angry, very angry, and wasn’t thinking and didn’t want to think.

It probably won’t be too long before she gets herself droned, but in the meantime.

For today’s forecast there is a chance of angry gods flying overhead. You know, the usual for Mayfield.]

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[The hell raven sails by overhead, not paying any mind to all those fresh injuries that opened up on her wings and shoulders. Freed of the car's weight, she sails up above the roof of the nearest house, turns about in her hovering--and drops to the roof, wings resting on the eaves.

She doesn't launch st him again immediately; her arm was too busy glowing, reforming and regenerating the severed surface. It was much slower going than what it had been on her face, with the light a much duller, almost sickly looking rust color.

Instead she's just perched there, only a little ominously. She could stamp that life out whenever she liked, but...in a moment. When she caught her breath.]

[Balin unholsters the pistol, holding it in both hands. His posture is a little hunched from having that piece of car whack him from behind, but he keeps an eye on Utsuho's movements, ready to move at the slightest hint of further aggression.]

[When it's clear she's preferred to back off for the moment, Balin carefully approaches the house where she's perched. He's aware she's trying to regenerate her wounds, but ... maybe she'll talk now.]

Had enough?

[Utsuho snorts, disdainfully. When she speaks...her voice is a bit different. Mechanical, echoey; like something else was using the hell raven as a mouthpiece.]

What do humans know of anything, I wonder.

[The eye in her chest was focused on Balin very, very intently.]

[Wow, this was not how Utsuho talked the past two times that Balin encountered her. His expression softens a little, a testament to his surprise.]

Yeah, real cute. What is'ere to know about'a crazy bitch tryin'a repeat what she did back in'at Gensokyo place? Tryin'a kill anyone who so much as talks to her?

[For a moment, he wonders if bringing up what Satori once said to him would snap her out of this rampage—though he discards that thought when he recalls that Satori really doesn't care who lives or dies in this town.]

...you know nothing of pain.

[Utsuho lurches forward in an almost robotic fashion, wings spreading with an only stiff kind of grace. She sails at Balin...and then past him, turning stiffly to follow the street in an unnaturally straight line.

No sounds of destruction follow her--or much sound at all, even as her form shrinks and power fades to a grey nothing.]

Oh fuck you! You wanna talk about pain? I lost my family, my friends, my planet to genocidal fucks like you! I fight on'a front lines every day! You don't see me tryin'a nuke everyone in'is town—

[Indignant rant interrupted by incoming nukebird! At first, Balin raises his pistol as she flies at him, trying to sidestep away from her flight path. His aim slowly lowers, though, when he sees just how different Utsuho's behavior is now. He lowers the pistol entirely when, watching Utsuho fly past him, he can see her shapeshifting. Is she really retreating?]

[He watches her flight for a few moments more ... Then his gaze turns to look in the direction of the street, where he notices the black splotches of blood still on the street, as well as the hell raven's weapon. The amputated arm is probably still inside ... Or maybe it shifted into a tiny wing? Either way, he's walking over to go pick up and examine the arm cannon while holstering the pistol.]

[Nope, it's still an arm. And it flops partway out of the cannon like a dead and bloody fish as soon as Balin picks the thing up, revealing the nasty, charred burns on the skin. The burns seem to be old, however.

The cannon is carved with geometric glyphs at the near end, most not making any sort of sense. Some are simple lines, others more complex triangles.

On the opposite end is a ring of crooked rods that look for all the world like misshapen nails--and the barrel itself, which is dormant and quiet now.]

[Balin turns the control rod over in his hands, taking note of all the details—including that arm. So body parts removed from the hell raven remain in the state they were in at the time of amputation, eh ...]

[Balin idly tries to remove the still-twitching arm from inside the control rod while contemplating the significance of this thing. It didn't look like an implant, so it must be some sort of regained equipment or weapon. Crazy as she was acting, Utsuho didn't seem too concerned about losing this, which means it's either disposable and she has more of these on hand—if not here then in Gensokyo, at least—or ...]

[Either way, he's definitely going to take this home with him. ... He'd take the arm, too, if there were any AFS Medics or just plain ol' biologists in town with the skills/powers/equipment/what have you to analyze it. He's really curious how that woman could fly with those wings and carry a car in one arm while doing it. Probably boosted by something like Logos or magic, but he'd love to know for sure.]

[Well, less disposable and more that Utsuho was just That Mad. She'd come looking for it later if she...wasn't already droned.

The arm comes away with only a little more tugging, the fingers almost immediately clenching into a fist. The burns looked rather painful.

The cannon itself feels like some kind of metallic alloy, and tingles slightly to the touch, like static electricity.]

[Balin's a little weirded over the way the severed arm is still capable of that powerful of movement even after spending all this time severed from its owner. Hearing Medics talk about ischemic trauma and the difference between clinical and biological death back in the AFS, he's aware that this has some disturbing implications. Maybe there's some youkai physiology at work there he doesn't know about—either way, he's more inclined to carry that arm home with him now.]

[First, though, curiosity gets the better of him. Noting the tingling, electric sensation while handling the control rod, Balin sets the severed arm down and looks into each end of the rod, trying to see how the heck the hell raven was holding on to this thing, and if this device had anything resembling the parts of firearms or directed energy weapons.]

[There's a rudimentary collar or sleeve sticking out the end the arm had fallen from, but aside from a crosswise handlebar in the center for a hand to hold on to, it doesn't seem to have any moving parts.

At least, on the surface.

Birds tended to peck at small moving things, you know.]

[Having noticed that, Balin glances around the street—and then picks up the severed arm, trying to put it back into the control rod the way he found it, for now. Sighing, he starts heading back to his house. He can try and figure out how this thing works there, rather than in the middle of a partially-melted road.]

7th Protocol--[Action all over the place] ☢

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