[Crossbow]

Digger speaks up from his spot on the wall,

"If we got a Mexican standoff, at least we brought our own Mexican..." nodding to Machete, "...so's we can maybe do a piece a business.  We help you with your bug problem, mebbe you pass over some of that hardware, and you tell us about some drink hereabouts somewheres we were here to find?"

[Kontact]

"Help me?  Oh, Etain preserve!  Are we back on that script already?  You're from the Star Chamber sent by high elf so and so, and you really liked my performance in 'Midsummer Night' so you thought you'd look me up, and I suppose the big strong one is here to sweep me off my feet and show me the town."  He throws Ruckus a wink.  "Utopia is waiting just outside these walls, and after a hundred lifetimes in hell I've finally got my invitation!  Goody goody!"

The spindly man leapt to his feet and started walking, quite clumsily over to the wall full of armaments.  The sight was simultaneously comical and disturbing as his body, though seemingly healthy was still thin as a rail.  There was not a gram of fat on his frame.  As he moved, it was like he was alternately being pushed and pulled in his stumbles. 

"Oh boy, the price of freedom!  All the stage props you can carry!  And drink!  I'd offer you drink, but I don't touch the stuff!  Haven't in years!"  He was, by this point, lobbing rifles and sub-machine guns lazily into the street outside the set's walls.  "I eat the wind exclusively.  Speaking of which..." He stopped the weak effort of tossing the guns out on the ground and once again began to work magic so potent that the fabric of reality was seen to warp inward.  "I doubt my stomach even works anymore... 'Gone down the American river!'  Ha!  'I'm with you in Rockland where you bang on the catatonic piano - the soul is innocent and immortal - it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse!'"  Along with his vigor returned the full strength of his body and coordination.  He was now tossing hand grenades and pistols out to the walls on the lower level.  He came to an ornate Katana and stopped.  "Karl Kombatmage.  Such a stupid production...  Too much fun!  Do they still have trids in your world?"

[joe15552]

"Yes, I haven't seen that one. Were you an actor in it?" asks Devoted as he starts fumbling with his comlink, trying to send a text to the group with his hazmat gloves on.

The text reads: "Treead carefiully,. Verey ppowerrful."

[Kontact]

"Ha!  I'm an Elf!  Naturally I was the villain!  ...Well, mentor-turned-villain...  But you must have seen it!  It grossed more money than Fuchi makes in a year!" 
He attempted to balance the sword-in-scabbard upright on the flat of his palm. 

[Crossbow]

Digger moves closer carefully to examine the weaponery being scattered, especially when the elf starts tossing the grenades, he is somewhat preturbed about the 'props' comment.

"Yeah, I used watch dose all the time, 'till that one sequel where Karl was ducking a Family hitter for week or more, then managed to get the drop on him.  Pops told me that fairy tales are for babies and to leave 'em go."

[Crossbow]

Digger starts to close the distance to the lower level, using his grip feet and playing out climbing line down the ramp to make it easier for others to follow if they so choose.

[Kontact]

The climb down wasn't much to worry about.  The slope made a hasty retreat problematic, but little more.  Moving along the wall, facing the set, Digger made his way to a nickel-plated Colt 1911 and picked it up.  The weight felt a bit off, but this wasn't a firearm he had extensive experience with.  He pulled the slide back to check the chamber, and everything looked good.  No round slid in, so he figured it for empty.  Not taking chances, he put thumb to hammer and pulled the trigger, feeling its weight bite his thumb a little as he guided it forward.  So far, so good.  All oiled and working.  He checked the barrel and found residue enough to indicate use.  He popped the clip and his hopes sank a bit.  There was a hose attachment and a little tank.  Pulling off the slide showed the chamber was sealed with a gasket and the hammer was attached to a flint system.  All this gun fired was propane.  But... it was a real weapon, modified for now, but nothing in its operation had been significantly altered to keep it from being fixed for regular fire by an armorer.

[Kontact]

While Digger was busy inspecting the pistol, he failed to notice an inky form coalesce behind him until his ears were full of buzzing.  Devoted, likewise, was caught unawares, being too shaken still from his recent experience.  Machete did not have this problem.  In fact, he was waiting for exactly this to happen as the other bug materialized behind him, he spun to face it, flamer at the ready.

[inca1980]

Machete unleashes a blazing fireball from his flame thrower and just paints the two materialized spirits with it.  With his environment mask on he looks like a glorified exterminator drenched in sweat.

[inca1980]

Once he sees that the wasp behind him is nice and covered in napalm he hops over to the ledge leans over and yells "yo Diggs!  MOVE CABRONNN!!", andstarts painting the bug on the lower level with flame but the stream goes wide.

[Crossbow]

Digger senses go on on overload he smells napalm and hears the EXTREMELY load buzzing behind him.  He is able to spin, duck, unsling his axe and let the wild swing carry him a safe distance when the flamethrower blast hits the floor.

"Who the frag are you trying to hit Tex-mex?"

[Kontact]

On the ground level, Digger swung his axe around and through the wasp hanging right on top of him.  The blade scraped along the floor and then upward in a vicious slash, bisecting the bug down the middle as it pulled itself away from him.  Stumbling from the effort of controlling the weapon as it met such little resistance from the ectoplasmic form of the spirit, Digger couldn't help but sink a little as the gash through the creature's center seemed to reseal itself with no noticeable loss.

On the balcony overhead, Devoted fled away from the horrors, scrambling down the balcony as primal terror stalked him from behind.  The great rising hum, the eyes that had stared into his soul, they were coming after him.  Buzzing nightmares had spilled out of the air, and he was not ready.
Looking back, he saw as Machete painted one full on, face and wings, with napalm, only to watch the napalm slide off its ectoplasmic form into pools on the crunching ground.  Machete snapped to the railing and spat a gout of flame, upside down at the bug below, but his stream fell short.  Below, several of the prop guns exploded in the pool of burning gel, sending metal fragments flying about in a series of loud pops.  Above this though, he heard screaming and full-auto fire coming from the hallway.  Blocking it out, he turned to look at the elf below. 

"No! No!  Unacceptable!"  The elf shouted as he brought his hands together in a clap over his head.  The air shimmered around the set and a translucent barrier formed around the elf in his mana bubble.

[Musical score: the claustrophobic and terrifying Hopeless Pursuit of Remission]

[inca1980]

Machete hoses down the bug nearest him with napalm again and with his other hand he grabs his Mossberg automatic shotgun from his back and readies it in his off-hand, the whole time watching to see the situation down below.

[Crossbow]

"Alright buggy-bee, lets see what you got!" Digger faces off with his foe.  Spinning his axe, he tries to set up an impenetrable screen while building momentum for a counterstroke.

[Kontact]

Insensitive to the earlier axe blow, the inscrutable man-sized wasp lunged at Digger with its stinger, but managed only to hit the air where he used to be.  Upstairs, the noticeably diminished creature, still slightly burning, zipped over the gout of flame and attempted the same maneuver against Machete.  It's stinger slammed into Machete's shoulder, but no effect was felt through the armor.  Meanwhile, from the upstairs hallway, autofire continued to rip outwards, stray bullets thudding into the balcony and careening off the elf's barrier, while, on the inside of the translucent barrier, several wasps had materialized and began throwing themselves bodily against the elf's mana construct.  One, noticeably bigger than the rest, turned on the elf, getting right in his face and buzzing angrily.
"Oooh! ho! ho! ho! he.. he.. heeeeee... Try it you fragging bee-slag!  Try it all day long!  It's never going to work, Melissa!  The sun will explode before you get one over on me you sad hack!"