Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)
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FIVE THOUSANDTH POST IN THIS THREAD OMG!
There Was Nothing We Could Do
The scene Strop returned to was worse than he imagined. The bank, wrath once raining down upon invaders, was once again doing the same, only now upon the straggling defenders still in the area. The whole courtyard was ablaze with wrecks and incendiary bombs. The acrid fumes almost overwhelmed Strop as he staggered between them, trying to make sense of the situation. "Ash? DM?" he called, futilely, his voice drowned out by the roar of fire and explosions. Then he looked at the pillars, and saw some familiar figures.
Asherlee lay slumped, propped against the base of the pillar. The Dragonmistress was frantically dabbing at her face, an unusual gesture, then alternatively slapping her across it, a gesture far more familiar. Above them, another hooded figure stood, attention focused wholly on the grand double doors. Strangely, it seemed it was now trying to keep things from coming out.
"Ash!" Strop ran over as fast as his shaky legs could take him, before he realised why DM was dabbing at her face. Blood ran freely down it, following the ridges of her angular cheekbones and dripping from her chin.
"There's too much!" DM yelled, turning to Strop. "You're a doctor, aren't you?"
Strop took another breath, trying to clear his head. "Wait, what's the situation?" he asked. He took another look at the hooded figure, and made a guess as to who it was. "Crimson, is that you?"
"I can't hold this door for much longer!" Crimson shouted, not turning from the door. "I'm running out of scripts!" Immediately Strop knelt, brushing aside Asherlee's hair. "Ash, can you hear me?" Ash only moaned, her eyes barely flickering. Strop simultaneously rejoiced that Ash was at least alive, and cursed his lack of pen torch, but quickly moved to his next priority. "What happened, DM?" he asked while combing over Asherlee's scalp.
"I don't know, you tell me," DM shrugged. "We were making a charge when in the distance there was a giant explosion, everything just shook so much... we thought you were gone. And then when I looked back, everybody was coming out and we... there was nothing we could do."
Strop shook his head. "There was nothing I... nevermind." Strop stood back up. "It's okay for now, it's just a cut from the edge of her headband."
"What?!" DM stared, and pointed, "But there's so much-"
"It's fine, scalp bleeds always look worse than they are! Just apply more pressure!" he grabbed DM's hanky and stuffed it under her headband. "She's probably had a concussion." Strop looked around, biting his lip. Reassuring as that news might have been, the situation was still dire. Crimson's defences were going to give out any minute. He didn't know whether Asherlee was going to wake up or when, or whether her spine was still intact. The last thing he wanted was to render the formidable Amazon (or was it Spartan?) paralytic for life, yet if he didn't do something soon, it wouldn't even matter.
"Asherlee!" he yelled. "Can you hear me?"
"I already tried that," DM informed him, unnecessarily.
"I know!" Strop snapped back, "But do you have any other ideas?"
"I'm not even a moderator!" DM's voice went up a notch. "If you'd remembered that before sending us here, perhaps Asherlee wouldn't be like-"
"That's not fair, DM," Strop cut her off. "Everybody is going through hell out there. I'm only alive now myself because Flipski is d-"
A burly hand clapped over Strop's mouth. "Shaddup, girls," Ash grunted, heaving herself into a seated position. Instantly, DM and Strop were back at Asherlee's side. "You're okay!"
"Of course," groggily, Asherlee tried to stand, but fell over again. "Nuts, can't feel my legs."
"Easy, Ash, you've had a concussion." Strop propped himself under one shoulder, DM sliding under the other. "Let's get outta here before we decide the next move."
Ash hung her head. "I won't accept this defeat, it's shameful."
"Hush, Ash," DM chided. "It's not defeat until we're all dead."
"Darn straight," Ash laughed slightly, then coughed. "Crimson!" Strop shouted, "We're moving out!"
"About time," Crimson shot back. "I'm outta barriers!" He threw one last scroll at the doorway, before bolting away from it. Moments later, the doors exploded outwards in a ball of fire and smoke.
"LET'S GET OUT OF HERE," DM shouted. "Crimson, see if you can get them off our tail!"
Crimson frowned, then sniffed in disdain. "Don't know if I can, but I'll try. What next?"
Strop spent one crucial moment thinking. Then he declared: "Round all the civilians up, and get them to the Armusement Park. We're gonna evacuate AG."
CRIMSON: whether or not you write anything in response to this is up to you. All you need to do really is indicate whether you'll follow Strop's directive or not. Not that it's going to change much anyway, since Strop's telling everybody he meets the same thing.