Edana's mind gropes to place the voice at the other end of the call. Gellawyn. Her accent thickens with the stress of the moment, "Yes... trouble. Stay away," her eyes dart to the door. It's not that she doesn't want help, or isn't scared. Rather that she is more scared of what accepting help from the strange and deadly pair would mean. How it would drag her away from... She senses Herne moving beyond the ward.

If he can't get through... She closes her eyes hard and summons a murder of ghostly crows that perch attentively after fluttering into existence with a puff of astral smoke and feathers.

"Not an option, this is a lot worse than you think." Gellawyn quickly places another call to Koge adding a text message in the process.

Need the location of the number on my phone, urgent will pay as needed.

Gellawyn
3755 NE 145th st. Approximately 13 miles ENE. Balance due upon final information payout. Will be done in 90 minutes.

An image follows the text showing four men in jumpsuits moving into a clinic.

Shrugging the last of the armor on, Kraxus moves up behind Gellawyn, already motioning to the ganger that had parked her bike somewhere in the sprawl of ruined buildings the gang occupied.

Elf Team
The female ganger still shows many of the bruises from her initiation, but her spirit is unbroken. She quite obviously visually strips Kraxus before patting to the back half of the seat on her bike.

"I wouldn't leave too many lasting marks if you shared," she comments to Gellawyn.

Another ganger comes up with his bike and gestures to the seat for Gellawyn. "You seen Crisis? He didn't come back last night..."

He lets a smile touch his lips at the females brisk commentary to Gellawyn, and climbs onto the back of the bike, connecting the induction datajack as he pulls the helmet for his armor on. He glances at Gellawyn for the briefest of moments, re-connecting the light mental connection the two usually shared.

I will call the other, Downtown. One more sword could only help.

A wordless though echoes into the either, and in the astral plane, a wolf materalizes besides the motorcycles, the ground-eating lope easily keeping pace with the two machines as they roar down the delapidated streets surrounding the gangers hangout.

Go swiftly to this place, my friend. The others we met yesterday are in danger. Do whatever you can to help. The wolf seems to nod, odd as the expression is on the canine features, and a hunting howl goes up as the figure darts off into the flowing lights of the astral, fast as the speed of thought.

The buzz of the phone snapped Downtown from his catnap like a taught rubber band. His hand flashed out and slapped the answer key before his eyes were even awake.

Half of the fearsome elf duo spoke quickly and clearly.

"Understood, be there in ten."

Downtown was up in an instant. Quickly and methodically he gathered his needed weapons. "Yo, crash man, show time at the hospital, hack the system and give us whatever help you can. Uh, I'm taking your truck."

The brawny ork was out the door and in the truck in ten long steps. The engine roared to life and he put the petal to the floor to get her moving.

Vehicles across town begin heading to the grey clinic where Michael "Bishop" Walker was sent in his comatose state. The question of whether they would make it in time was forcibly ejected from thoughts, with the grim determination that they simply must.

In the room, Edana stood surrounded by a murder of crows and the hearth spirit who was bound by the laws of Making and Magic from ages past.

Hunger moves apace with service as the unknown assailants moved hidden from view through the hospital.

Edana leans back in the chair, shifting on the uncomfortable bulk of the focus under her, anger races hot down her neck at the elf woman's words. It is swiftly chased by a chill of relief that she ignores as she cuts the connection.

But all that doesn't matter. What matters now is battering down that ward so that Herne could get through to her. She closed her eyes, and opened them again several moments later, the world of concrete and stone and steel fallen away to a world much more raw and harsh.

Edana's astral form stood, shedding sparks and smoke as her anger smoldered. Her head is wreathed in a crown of ragged dark gray clouds that flare and flash with lightning from within. Bolts whicker up and down her long, white limbs, the flashes gathering at pulse points and in her eyes, pulsing in time with her inert body's heartbeat. In her hand a blazing bolt that writhes and twists like a tortured living thing.

She turns, haze of cloud and fog spilling out behind her and regards the ward. She reaches out to Herne and he surges close, eyes lighting with hunger. As one they attack, Herne with fang and claw and Edana with strokes of the whip, crashing bolts that send peals of thunder rumbling and echoing within the confines of the ward.

A growl rises in her chest and she screams - the scream pours like fog from her mouth. It smells of apple skins and metal.

As the wind and city rush Gellawyn leans forward to talk to her driver. "The one you asked about, he is no more. We will ensure his death will have meaning." She leans back into the flow of the bike as they dart around traffic.

Kraxus
You feel the link between you and Fueryon flare as the spirit courses through the astral at speeds the body cannot comprehend. Primal urge flickers between you and your ally along with the scent of a forgotten childhood mixed with the sharp tang of steel. You hear through him the distant crack of a whip and see a glowing form crack and fragment before tumbling away from a building into gossamer threads.

Edana
With the crack of the whip, you can feel a malicious glee at the prospect of destruction. The ward between you and Herne shatters outward. As pieces of the abjuration tumble downward, your hound crosses the threshold.

"The diseased ones approach as does the ally."

Gellawyn
The biker nods his head as you pull out and accelerate down the street.
"Give the fragger who killed him an extra kick in the ribs for me. Crisis could be arrogant piece of drek, but he saved my hoop a couple times."

Downtown
The truck's massive size give you a few problems but once you get the momentum built up it lumbers ahead down the road with the force of a train. Other drivers clear out of the way at the sight of the troll-sized pickup barreling down the thoroughfare.

That was not necessary, Sturmdottir. I can walk the path of storms to reach you, even beyond a ward.

Edana's form sparkles and sharpens as her third eye narrows angrily. No, not necessary, but these men will not hide behind their magic.

Yes, and now neither will you.

The rumbling of thunder fades away and Edana belatedly wonders how far the astral echoes of her attack could be sensed. That was stupid. Her astral form crackles with frustration, Well, perhaps there will be witnesses.

And that's a good thing?

If they attack us - yes!

Oh, I don't think there's any doubt of them attacking. Not now.

Let's hope they reconsider.

Amusement floods the link between the two astral warriors - cotton candy and bubbles.

Oh, can it, smarty. And get over here.

Herne sighs and Edana realizes that he is sitting calmly at her side. His hackles raise as Fuer'yon comes into view and he stands up quickly.

Return to your master, spirit, Edana commands, He may think this fight is his, but it is not. And his - their - presence here will endanger all of us. She moves forward, just beyond the door, to wait for the men so that she may bar their passage and learn their intent. The spirits move with her, a single raven remaining behind, watching over her body.

Herne, have they brought spirits with them?

Did I mention any?

Keep an eye out.

Edana
Moving out into the hallway, you see the clinic coated in the colors of life on the astral. The nurse down the hall has finished her phone call and is shrunk down behind her desk watching banks of monitors. Her aura gives off bright blue sparks of fear about the upcoming events.

Mental screams of pain echo through the halls as comatose patients exist beyond the time their bodies were meant to. The scent of antibacterial cleanser wafts down the hall and time stands still.

Mr. Holladay would be proud of your...restraint.

Behind you the door to the stairwell opens and two of the figures exit into the hallway. At the same time, the elevator spills out its occupants and the other two figures move down the hallway. Physically they are all identical, moving in step with each other with a grace that could never be learned. Your link to the huntsman reminds you of pack and instincts long departed from human genetic memory.

"This is not" "your place. Leave" "now without question" "or we will kill you." "The hound will" "be first. Save" "the mistress for" "the master if" "she does not depart now."

The four of them speak, each with the same voice and inflection, picking up and carrying the words from one to the next. If they had all stood side by side, you may not have even noticed but your mind swims in the vertigo of a constantly shifting balance as the sound comes from different places.

Fuer'yon

Fuer'yon growls once in Herne's direction as he pads into view through the wall, his whole body lowering as he sniffed the air and pad silently towards the door to the room.

You wait in your hole, like prey. The voice is quiet, disdainful, and ragged around the edges, thoughts and concepts expressed in a method they were never meant to use.

Kraxus

The frustration he is evident through the link he shared with Gellawyn as he communicated.

She's just waiting for them in the room, and there's four of them, versus her, her ally, and a conjured spirt.

He leans forward, speaking outloud for the first time since they left Doren's. "You must go faster."

The rickity old truck took corners like a wagon, and accelerated like a go-cart, but she was good enough to move the harried Ork across town.

C'mon, let me be there in time, don't let what happen to Bishop happen to her.

Elves
The female ganger looks to the other ganger, taps her helmet twice and leans into the bike.

"You'd better hold on tight."

There is a surge of acceleration as one bike and then the other lay on the gas with a reckless abandon.

Downtown
The deepthroated rumble of the engine growls and moans as you accelerate on the main streets and decelerate for the corners. Slowly you eat away the miles between you and the clinic.

Gellawyn reaches out through the link to Kraxus as she feels the bike hug the ground and accelerate in the pit of her stomach.

Can we find anything out about her attackers? Who are they?

Kraxus reaches out through the sense link he shares with his familiar, searching for any information he can see.

Hospitals were never a good place to go astral and in this place it seemed extra ill-advised. Edana braces herself against the frigid astral echoes of the people in unnatural stasis, like standing in cold black water.

Mr. Holla-who?

Incredulity flows across the link from Herne, DOC Holladay... The OK Corral... Read a book.

Book? Herne almost rises to Edana's bait. Almost.

She turns to Fuer'yon for a brilliant harsh moment, Do not presume to tell me the ways of The Hunt. Her anger whickers out to brush the ally spirit before she can check it fully, images and emotions pour across the space between the two, Edana and the wolf, an avalanche of savor and the canny tang of a predator waiting to ambush its prey.

And then the men are upon her.

She reels from the voices spinning around her from the four-voiced creature that is closing in. She bares her teeth, and reaches out with her will to probe the bonds between the men and the weapons they bear. The tools of their deadly trade.

Why is it that I'm always getting threatened by these guys. It's getting a little tiresome.

Because they percieve you as a weakness.

I protest.

Not your weakness. Mine.

She steadies herself and narrows the focus of her astral presence, it sharpens and crackles with her anger as she addresses the men. You will not take him.

Edana
You study the four men and are surprised by how closely their auras mimic the sameness of their flesh. Only the slightest variations exist to enable you to tell them apart, like looking at quadruplets. Their hands are empty though you see guns tucked away in slight holsters designed to hold the weapon along the curves of the body for easy access and concealability.

Your gaze covers that small piece of determination and stillness as the flock of crows around you begins to circle. Now is the moment of their attack. Now is the moment of resolution. Now is the moment of service. Now is the moment of your mortality. The thoughts push out from each one and you know that talk has ended and you must defend yourself and Michael

Outside the Clinic
The sound of metal scraping concrete is heard clearly across the parking lot as Crash's truck bottoms out along the south driveway. Behind the troll-sized wheel, the small orc is driving perhaps a little too quickly, especially given that he has just entered a parking lot.

The higher pitched whine of two motorcycles form a chord with the deep rumbling growl of the diesel engine. Each of the bikes carries a pair of riders, the driver obvious street gang material while the second where's a leaner cut that professional eyes would only deem as bodyarmor.

Fuer'yon growls as the emotions flood out and tinge the astral, her anger like a thick smell rapidly filling the small space. His hackles raise, fangs bared for a moment as if he's about to respond as any wolf would to a challenge from one that wasn't alpha. With a glance at the four figures moving down the hallway, the wolf's growl drifts off, and he very distinctly turns his back on the fight, moving back into the room.

The link between Kraxus and Gellawyn is tinged with exasperation.

She challenged him. The comment is almost incredulous. She faces them alone for the moment. We must hurry.

Edana's astral form lifts slightly as she reaches out to the auras of the oncoming men. What could render them so identical, even here...? She tastes their sameness like a tidal wave against her individuality... Individual... it has the word 'dual' in it... strange that... She focuses herself on the men.

They're all going to come at once, aren't they?

I'd bet money on it.

You don't have any money.

Mmmhmm... and who's fault is that?

What?! Herne, you don't even have pockets.

I don't need pockets, I just need a bank account.

You want a bank account? Really.

Well, no. How about this, I'd bet your money on it.

I just bet you would.

Oh, sure, you get all the fun. Herne's mental harumph bumps along the link.

Can we talk about this later?

Hopefully.

Edana's mind flicks from man to man, sliding from one to another, only able to distinguish between them becuase they occupy different locations in space. It's unsettling. Commands shimmer out from her to Herne and the other spirits, Fuer'yon included, Attack only if they attack first. I will strike first, follow my lead.

The hallway becomes still for an instant and then explodes in motion. From a purely physical perspective, the ghouls move in perfect unison passing through complicated katas which are fluid enough to show an inherent understanding of combat beyond what is learned in a dojo.

Within the astral, the fight is much more complicated. As the first one moves forward to restrain Edana a gleeful laugh presses out against the walls. With a single crack of the whip, the tip extends into parts of the aggresors psyche which were not meant to be touched and he crumples to the floor.

Moving on to keep herself and her spirits free from capture, the child of storms lashes out to keep her opponent off balance. A murder of crows flutter past the thunder clouds that begin to fill the area around Edana and each one dives, pecking and clawing at the antagonist. The quick darting movements of the spirit-birds as well as the cracking threat of the whip keep the second man off balance as he takes occasional buffets of wings and pecks.

With a movement to draw the fight off Edana the hearth spirit dives into the fray with the third enforcer. The astral form around the ghoul warps as claws drive forward into the chest of the former patient and begin weakening the connection between spiritual form and its true shape from the deeper metaplanes.

Growling, Herne sweeps in behind the man who was eviscerating the other spirit. Teeth sink in with the practice of a millenia of wolves, as the ally hamstrings his prey. Blood spills into the hallway as echoes of the astral are made physical.

Like a shifting tide, the ghouls roll and adapt to the moving swarm of activity in the astral. Focussing on eliminating Edana's shield wall of guardians, the swarmed brawler strikes out at a crow and lands a solid blow which sends it reeling back through the air.

Meanwhile, the bleeding warrior casts a glance at Herne reminding the spirit that he would be next. The claws slash out again and tear through the final threads that bound the spirit to this place and time. The hearth spirit has a pained but peaceful look as he is returned to the deep metaplanes where it permanently resides.

The last ghoul who had not been occuppied by a pack of spirits or threatened by the whip moves forward to follow up with his companions. Striking first at the wounded crow, razor sharp claws lash through astral space and leave a few feathers to dematerialize as the consciousness is cleaved cleanly. He continues onward, through the stream of beaks and feathers, slicing through a second before the crows can gather enough momentum to hold back the newcomer and stave off the immediate threat.

Kraxus lets the mental connection between them fall even as established a more physical one, reaching out and twisting the mana that flowed around them into more specific patterns, augmenting the natural flows and altering weight and mass in conjunction in correspondance with the order of nature.

With the sensation of setting them free, he lifts both himself and Gellawyn lightly off the bikes, moving in a slow rising curve towards the hospital and up to the blank reflection of the fourth floor. As they rise, Gellawyn stills herself for a moment, the bow seeming to flow into her hands as 2 arrows are nocked and released in smooth succession, the rest of her body infinitely still.

The first arrow strikes the center of the glass, the large pane shattering inward as the explosive at the tip of the arrow ignites. The second follows it with hardly a moments delay, streaking into the fray in the hallway outside the room.

In the parking lot, there is the creaking sound of the truck door opening and a body hitting pavement. The form of a slight orc, hurls itself out of the moving truck and rolls with the impact before rising up. Bruised lightly but on his feet running for the door to the hospital, Downtown sprints across the distance.

The truck continues its steady trajectory across the parking lot aimed in the general direction of a lightpost and the clinic itself.

Within the hospital, the arrow streaks out across the room and into the hallway. The force of the impact drives the wounded ghoul back and his already wounded leg gives way in the blood on tile. Dazed, he collapses to the floor.

No blood! Edana roars across her link to Herne and the remaining spirits. She is reeling from the destruction of two of summoned companions, but rides through it on the crest of anger that carries her forward. Anger that bubbles up from the depths of pain. She decides that she will not give Herne or the others another chance to kill on her behalf.

One of the ghouls drops, still alive and Edana notices a change in Fuer'yon's posture.

No one, not even you - especially not you, Herne - will make me into a murderer. She brings the lash down on the once-man.

And make no mistake, Herne, your crimes are mine. And the punishment for them would be mine too. Dismal echoes of Edana's incarceration reverberate down the link.

Mmmhmmm... and this artifact that you're swinging around willy nilly, you expecting a mild reprimand if it is discovered?

That's different.

Don't be a hypocrite.

A flare of anger. A weapon is potential for murder, not murder itself.

I've heard that before - 'Foci don't kill people, people kill people,' I don't think that'll stand up.

Well, it certainly won't if these 'men' are dead, will it?

Understood.

She turns and swings again. Now, help me get through this and start thinking of where we can take Michael. If we can move him. I don't think he'll be safe here any more, if he ever was.

The whip cracks down on the partially collapsed figure, astral tendrils dimming chakra in the core of his being. Without giving the question of life and death a second thought, Edana flicks the whip back into the flesh of one it has already touched.

Thank you mistress...

The words echo along the mystical connection between whip and mistrss.

Focusing inward, Gellawyn draws arrows without needing to even think about it. At this point it happens simply because it is time for it to happen. She sights the lone standing figure through the movement as she flies through the air under the flows of mana from Kraxus. A breath in and then one long breath out, the arrows fly towards their target.

The lightly bruised ghoul twists his body quickly to one side as the first arrow soars past him, slamming into the wall with a dent. Sensing the moment of distraction, several of the spirits course through the astral space. Ravens buffet and distract him and the massive hound drives a shoulder into the thugs knee.

Focussed on the astral combatants, the thug doesn't see the second arrow. There is the sound of ribs cracking as he falls to the floor, his body reacting to forms invisible to the physical eye.

The only sounds left in the hallway are moans of pain and muffled frantic praying issuing out from behind the nurse's station.

With a barely perceptible movement, Kraxus moves himself and Gellawyn through the shattered window, glass shards crunching under their feet as the spell is released. He glances around the carnage, and arches an eye as he looks to Edana.

"Well, what do we do now? You'll need to decide quickly, I'm sure the actual police are probably on their way."

Gellawyn places the bow back along her back, as she quickly checks each of the guards for signs of life. Her face remains unreadable as she attends to the task. "This is one is dead." She rejoins Kraxus after her inspection. "Where are we? These men are not corp sec at all so you just killed someone connected to the shadows which could mean retaliation. Do you know who provides the security for this place?"

Edana sees the astral presences of Kraxus and Gellawyn sweep in. The last of the ghouls falls to the floor. Edana opens her eyes a feeling of dread coiled in her belly. She stands and reluctantly picks up the whip. It looks suddenly sinister in its dark twists. She twists it in her hands worriedly and glances at Michael as she hurries out of the room into the hall just in time to hear Gellawyn's pronouncement.

"He's... dead?"

One hand drops to her side, gripping the focus with white-knuckle force. The other rises to her mouth, fingertips hovering over her lips as if they could stop the words she'd uttered. Make them not true.

She blinks at the elf, "They, uh... I..." She gives her head a shake, "They're not Templars?"

Gellawyn shares a look with Kraxus at the question. Her voice remains neutral as she replies. "No, they are not in the business of recruiting ghouls into their numbers. In fact, they often hunt them for practice to keep their edge for fieldwork." She moves down to the nurses station, leaning over the partition to address the woman crouching behind it. "I assure we have no intention of harming you. Can you tell me who these gentlemen are?" She tries to convey a sense of normalcy into the question, as if asking where the restrooms where located.

The nurse cringes but stops her frantic praying.

"Se-Sec-Security. They come when...when we have problems."

There is an odd sense of disconnection, watching a woman who could probably handle extreme levels of stress dealing with a patient dying in the hospital bed but crumpling at the threat of physical violence.

The woman's words raise a brow with Kraxus as he glances at Edana.

"Did you cause trouble at this facility first, or did they attack you?" His words are calm and quiet, but spoken with a tone that brooks no deception.

Ballefour's neck explodes into blood. A thump and she looks down, his eyes gaze up at her. His blank, blank eyes.

She swallows as she looks down at the dead ghoul, a new blank stare, this one of her own making. She looks up at Kraxus, "He was going to kill Michael," her eyes dart, "I thought..." she finishes lamely.

God... what have I done?

I don't think He had much to do with it.

Shut up! Just shut up!

Herne draws back, anger flaring along the link. I will be on look out... Mistress.

I'm sorry, Herne. Sadness and contrition flow across the link as Herne's astral form bounds away and begins to circle the clinic. He snarls at Fuer'yon as he passes, hackles raised.

You will be.

She shakes her head, "I wasn't particularly kind to the desk attendant down stairs. I've been in enough hospitals to know that you don't just get to walk in off the street and visit anyone you feel like," she looks at the men on the floor, and the blood spilled out around one of them, leaking from wounds, congealing on the floor.

"We need to clean this up. And then..." she looks over her shoulder at Michael's door, "...then we need to get the hell out of here."

That would be wise, says the spirit she'd conjured to help in the fight. Anger and malevolence radiate off of it. She hadn't detected that before. She had been so wrapped up in the approach of danger that she had not examined the nature of the spirit she'd summoned and what that meant about the place.

Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't understand. I wouldn't have... I... would you help us clean up?

The spirit nods and materializes moving with the long familiarity of a hearth spirit to the supply closet.

Edana takes a deep breath and pulls out her p-sec. She dials a number and speaks briefly to someone who is an obvious intermediary.

"Yes, a message will be fine," she looks down, "Uncle Jimmy... it's Edana. I need your help. Again."

"I'm not certain there is much to clean up here. We should move soon before more arrive." Gellawyn walks back from the nurse's station. "If this man's safety is a concern we should take him with us, I doubt he will safe here any longer with the death of one of these enforcers." She moves to a window, where she can see the entrance of the building. "Decide soon..."

She closes the connection after leaving her message and flagging it with an urgent code that she hopes will get Uncle Jim's attention. "I already have."

She tucks the focus under her arm and puts her face in her hands. Her voice is muffled and weary when she speaks, "Have either of you ever heard of a focus speaking?"

I'm not going crazy.

You are correct. 'Going' is not the right verb.

At the end of the hall, the stairwell door slams open and Downtown steps out. The pistol in his hand quickly fades away beneath his jacket as the orc surveys the area.

"I see you took the shortcut," he says with a grin to the elves.

Gellawyn

Outside, you see Crash's truck drove up over the curb and slammed into the hospital on the ground floor. The distant wail of emergency vehicles is a clear sign that law enforcement and fire crews are inbound.

"Our time is up, there are response vehicles on the way and we need to be elsewhere." Gellawyn moves into the room with the comatose Templar. Looking around at the various life support equipment and then looking to Edana. "Do you have a way to move him safely? I doubt these machines are for show."

Edana nods. She tucks the whip into an inner pocket of her coat and moves over to the nurse, "Ma'am, I'm sorry if I, uh, if we," she gestures at the others, "scared you. I can assure you we meant no harm to anyone here."

She points at the fallen security ghouls, "The people who sent those will be after us. We have to hurry. See, the man I came to visit, he's in danger. More now than ever before."

Her voice cracks at the last sentence, heavy with guilt.

"We've got to get him out of here and we don't know how to do it safely. Would you help us. Please?"

She hurries to add before the woman has a chance to reply, "Please, this man, he's important. I'll do anything."

The woman flinches back as if expecting to be struck. When the blow doesn't fall she cringefully slides closer to her computer and begins accessing files.

"He is on low grade life support. He can be moved without the machines but it is possible that the trip will kill him. He needs to remain stabilized."

"Okay."

The thin woman nods at the nurse, "We'll do our best to get him ready. Can you find me a portable life support of some kind? You know, stuff like paramedics use?"

Herne, would you bring the brumby up? Not too close. And then come back to carry Michael out. The spirit speeds off.

She looks at the elves and DT, "I'm gonna go start unhooking him. You lot see about getting us out of here. Herne is bringing the brumby."

Kraxus glances around the hospital for a moment, looking at the elevator, the stairs, and then back to Michael's room. He glances to Downtown.

"You've got basic medical training, right? Gather whatever equipment we need to transport him as safely as possible. Figure out if he needs to be kept level or on a bed. Gellawyn, since the authorities are on their way, and we obviously aren't going to be able to explain this easily, can you find out if there is a side of the building without an exit? One that the authorities are unlikely to approach if they arrive before we leave? If so, I need a window or roof access. It'll be fastest to simply take us all down at once."

Gellawyn nods as she moves quickly towards the nearest exit on the floor that lead to stairs. Pausing at the stairwell door she looks for an emergency floor plan or exit map on either side of the door.

Gellawyn

The exit map is clearly visible and shows cutaways of each floor and the recommended routes of evacuation. From a vehicle, the most likely side of entry will be the southside of the clinic where your group entered or the east side. There are pedestrian exits on the north and west sides, however, the north side appears to be alarmed and will sound upon exit. The east exit also serves as a walk-in entrance for non-critical services and the nurse's station.

Roof Access is available from any stairwell.

Gallawyn moves back to Kraxus after committing the map to memory. "We can exit either the north or west side. There is an alarm on the north side so it seems unlikely anyone will enter through there. It should be a simple matter to disable the alarm system and make our exit that way." She moves back to the window they entered through, waiting for him to make his decision. She gestures to catch the attention of the gangers that brought them here. She motions for them to leave. No need for them to get in any more trouble on our account.

Kraxus nods.

"North stair well then." He turns to Edana.

"Disconnect him from the hospital, and attach him to whatever monitoring equipment we're taking with us, and move him over to the stairwell."

He glances at Downtown as he begins to move towards the north side of the building.

"You've got 12 seconds to get to the window and determine whether the truck is driveable. If it is, I'll lower you down, and you drive it away. If it isn't, you come with us."

Moving closer to the edge, Downtown looks at Crash's truck with a discerning eye. It was obvious that jumping the curb had done very minor damage in comparison with driving into the building. From the vibrations in the truck, the engine is still running, though the body shop bill would be fairly hefty.

"Let's just hope the radiator hasn't cracked. Otherwise, it looks driveable."

The orc prepares himself for the invisible arms of mana to wrap around his body and carry him to the ground.

Downin the parking lot, the gangers leave with a screech of rubber on asphalt. Nearby, the black brumby roars to life as Herne pulls it closer to the clinic. With the window down, you can see the spirit wrapped in camouflage armor and wearing his sunglasses.

I am ready, echoes through Edana's mind as she pulls the last cable from the wall and gets ready to move Bishop on to the gurney.

Kraxus nods to Gellawyn to help the woman move the entire gurney away from the wall and towards the elevator.

He turns to Downtown, his eyes measuring the distance as he moves towards the window. A few whispered words of Sprethiel float across the distance, their arrival marked by the sudden grip of an invisible force around the mans torso.

Kraxus left the mans arms and legs as free as he could as he swept the figure towards the window and let gravity take hold, slowing the descent just enough to avoid damage as Downtown contacted the pavement. Ungraceful, but he didn't have time for a softer touch. He turns back towards the elevator, Fuer'yon ghosting in his wake in the astral.