The beast's chest seemed to fill fully, the scattering crowd screaming and scattering. Great jets of light seemed to pull into the beast from thin air, vibrant green pooling at the tips of the branches which lined its spine and upper limbs. The Ursa's very fur seemed to take on a tone of darkest olive, and at long last its jaw cracked open.
From within the rows of fangs, a stuttering light could be glimpsed within. A noxious shade of green all its own, the flickering light grew ever brighter as a low gurgle seemed to rise up through the beast's spine and towards its throat. All at once, the glow solidified, an audible rush of air sweeping through the school grounds as the ground further caved beneath the bear's form.
The beast's front legs slammed back down to earth, a punctuating cru-crack heralding the precursor to the inevitable. Blood ran softly from the thin wound Phorcys had scored along its forelimb, and a slight daze about the creature spoke of the impending fatigue its rage had incurred...
The lights on the tips of each branch suddenly shot through the beast's own form! Lightning-fast bolts of green in various shades, lancing down the beast's legs and into the ground itself, before..!
Reverberating, nauseating in its volume. The roar was - against odds - more powerful than the last. Windows shattered across the street, what debris was scattered around the Ursa was blown clear like shrapnel from a grenade. All who dared try and observe the beast could see only a blurry smear of a mass as the noise infiltrated their inner ears.
No, there was more.
Like a great expanding field, the gathered green visae echoed like a pulse outwards, silent as a lone forewarning for what occurred next. Life sprung fresh from the concrete itself, spilling through it to send up great chunks as briar and brush and tree and every other form of greenery imaginable rose up from the paved ground. A great rush of nature both beautiful and deadly, the twisting forms quickly snapping up - or stabbing through - those who did not immediately flee or hide.
“Call me Cat,” the laicar answered Cicely with a warm smile from over her shoulder. The two made their way carefully across the campus grounds, making sure not to draw attention to themselves, Catalin sprinting from cover to cover and every now and again checking over her shoulder. “The alchemists here keep plenty of things stocked, but they’re very particular with the materials. Some don’t react too well with others so-” a dull roar brought Catalin up short for a moment, “-so tell me what you need now.”
A louder roar froze the engineer, and a wave of concern struck her. A deep and unsettling dread started to blossom, and it was cold enough to bring a chill to her spine.
Albanus.
The roar had been tremendous. Enough force and power in it to stagger the enlil before he let gravity take hold, dodging most of the flying debris but landed him just under some shattered windows that rained down on him. As if not enough the ground left him suddenly, and the alchemist found himself in a tree looking down at the forest that had sprouted from nothing.
Hands shaking, a white-knuckled grip on his bow, the enlil turned his blurry red eyes back down to where the ursa was stomping around. His mouth felt dry and he heard himself say in utter disbelief, “It can do that?”
Fear threatened to take hold, and he fought the urge to run as he sorted through his options. Options. The idea that he had any felt laughable. Limbs unsteady the enlil attempted to right himself enough and drew a shabby arrow, knocking it in a fluid and trained motion before he took aim.
Just pulling open the doors of the storage room was difficult. It was as if the force of the roar was keeping them closed. Using both hands and her entire weight, Cicely was able to open it enough for people to slip through. She shoved Cat into the room before staggering after her.
The door slammed shut behind them through no doing of Cicely's. Something powerful had crashed into it, and from outside, she could hear stone breaking. Her ear was ringing so hard that it was tough to remain upright. She held onto a nearby table for support, knocking around some of the objects on it. Her bartender reflexes allowed her to catch a beaker with just a glint of light in her eyes.
"Cat, can you get the ethanol, preferably in a large barrel. If anyone argues, just mention the ursa major. I mean, everyone around must have heard that." Cicely wasn't sure if she was speaking loudly or softly. She could barely hear her own words. Her hands flailed towards the entrance of the storage room, which was cracked from the force of whatever had hit it.
Arrogance and curiosity meshed just long enough to have a lasting impact. Largely, Tydeus thought he could look around the pillar just to take an extra shot. What immediately greeted him was a sound that he couldn't properly parse.
Nothing, not even the sound of his own thoughts, could crest above what the Ursa had created. So loud was the noise that it was as though he were deaf and there were no sounds at all, only the sensation of a cannon firing directly into his ears.
Without quite realizing it, Tydeus had pressed his hands against his ears and nearly sunk to his knees. Somewhere near his feet the shotgun had fallen. A runny liquid greeted his palms, awakening him from his daze enough to realize that his ears were bleeding. Ringing soon replaced the deafening roar, though it was still enough to cut off his hearing while maintaining a migraine.
Rather than waiting for his body to recover, Tydeus breathed in and reached for his weapon. At nearly the same moment a branch shot out of the ground and cut right through his right hand.
While the oaken brush continued to sprout upward, a smaller branch managed to hook through the shotgun's trigger and bring it upward. Though he couldn't hear his own voice, he cried out while the briar lifted him up and nearly a foot into the air.
Addled with pain, Tydeus forced his left hand as far as he could in order to reach his weapon. Every little movement sent pain shooting out from his hand.
For a moment he allowed himself to hang still, eventually looking out at the Ursa beyond the pillar that could no longer offer him any protection. He grit his teeth, tensed his right arm and with one more excruciating swing managed to retrieve his weapon.
Aiming the barrel at the beast was difficult. Tydeus tried his best to level the weapon, but he only had one hand and was already rattled. Frustrated, he gave up on aiming and instead focused on his breathing.
"Lis—" Tydeus' throat was horse and he found himself breathless far too quickly.
Much as Tydeus would have preferred to let anger get the better of him, he saw little possibility of maneuvering on the ground. Instead, he clutched his trapped hand around the branch and continued to focus on his lungs.
In one motion, Tydeus closed his eyes and inhaled until his lungs were filled to capacity. In another, he focused on calming his blood pressure. His eyes fluttered open and, even though somewhat obstructed by the brush, he could still see the massive Ursa.
"Whoa there, big fella!" Tydeus projected his voice as far as he could. "Listen to the sound of my voice! Down!"
[462/895]
Notes
Popping Voice of Serenity, noted below for convenience
The Velen only shed blood when needed. Though the desire for a diplomatic resolution is noble, their method could be taken by some to be rather malicious. Speaking in a language that appears familiar to all but wholly unrecognizable it seems to tap into the target’s psyche itself. A single target is compelled to stop fighting, breaking their fighting spirit and pacifying them.
This costs 5% of the Velen’s vigor and only can be used once every 3 turns. This is treated as a rank 2 mental attack.
“M-Move!” exclaimed Urias, a rush of adrenaline coursing through his body. The healing spell had, for the moment, closed the wound. There was still internal bleeding, but it would have to do as a stop-gap measure. He staggered up to his feet as the green visae coursed through the area, grabbing Phorcys with his right arm.
As the ground was torn asunder by the erupting foliage, Urias allowed dormant laicar stubbornness to take hold. This was mixed once again with a heavy dose of adrenaline and sheer recklessness. With a painful leap, that caused his leg to spasm, he launched forward a surprising distance. The landing was far from graceful, as they rolled onto the concrete in a botched attempt to escape. The awkward jump caused him to be swiped by the rapidly growing flora, ripping the base of his pants and leaving deep scratches. The recently healed wound reopened. The courtyard continued to be torn apart from the terrifying power of the bear, but for the moment they were in a clear space.
To Urias, the velen’s words seeming rather soothing given the state of the situation they were in. Regardless of the pain surging up his leg and into his core, the voice still provided a sense of much needed calm. It provided a brief respite from the wounds and allowed him to think for the first time.
By this point word must have spread to the authorities, Urias thought as he grasped his leg again.
“Phorcys. Attacking will just anger the beast and cause more collateral damage. We must attempt to restrain it until the police or the Arcanum forces arrive. Would it be possible for you to assist whoever’s attempting to calm it down for the time being?”
A low, gurgling rumble sounded from within the newly-created forest. The Ursa, ears perked, turned its head in the direction of the soothing velen. It sniffed at the air for a moment, before turning away and stalking back towards the tower of the Academy.
Its fur continued to hold a bright oaken sheen, but already the tips of the spines lining its shoulders and back were beginning to darken, the newly green canopy slowly drooping. Some of the fight had been robbed of the great beast, but not enough. There would be carnage yet for its disturbed slumber.
Before the brave few who stood to distract the beast, the Ursa curiously poked its head at the door, before growling at the thick wood barring its way. It could smell within the kitchens and the dining rooms that all students reveled in.
Food would - one way or another - be served. A lazy paw swipe quickly cleared the newest obstacle from the bear's path, and the Ursa seemed to pay no mind to the gouges its wooden spines dug into the ceiling as it forced itself into the main lobby of the building.
Let's see there. Cicely went about the storage room. It was alright, nothing fantastic. She meant that it was full of alchemical ingredients. Dried herbs, animal parts, various chemicals with labels that she didn't understand, that sort of stuff. It wasn't like they had any vats of fermenting beer or shelves full of aging barrels. Now that would have been exciting.
But Cicely did find all that she needed, which included some gloves, a hose and some lard. It was too bad the gloves weren't the kind that went up to the upper arms. Now that would have been preferable, but she had to work with what she had. For the time being, she set that aside to work on a potion.
Despite never having made a potion before, Cicely felt confident. They were a list of ingredients and procedures relating to ingredients, and she had done a lot of that with cocktails. Instead of a shaker, a beaker was the container of combining. Instead of a spoon, it was a long glass rod. The motions were the same and the precision needed similar.
Cicely brought everything needed for a simple explosion together. While she only needed a small amount, it was easier to make a large batch and scoop out a portion of it. Most instructions suggested measuring, but Cicely could work faster by free-pouring it. She worried about ratios more than exact amounts. The only part she needed help with was the pipettes. That was too small an amount for her.
But in little time, a simple impact explosive was mixed up. It was still inert until the final ingredient was added, of course. Cicely scooped up a small vial of it with the last part kept in a separate container.
Now if Cat would come back with what she asked for, then everything would be prepared.
At this point all he could do was wait. The wounds were slowly being knit back together, though he was far from fighting condition. He could only hope that his brash actions had bought enough time for help to come. He groaned in pain, clutching his chest. The broken ribs punctured into his body, though at least for the moment he was free of any life-threatening danger.
As the Ursa traversed the campus, searching for its next meal, Urias was helpless to react. He could only hope that the students, faculty and visitors had had the idea to run. He continued to breathe carefully, making sure not to upset the healing process again.
The kitchen was well-stocked, and unfortunately, well-manned. The screams echoed out into the street, some cut short and others carrying before fading to silence. The Ursa, stooped over a decimated pantry, loosed short snarls as it tore food containers apart to get at their contents. Nearby, a pair of students lay - heads lolled and small pools of blood underneath from where their chests had been crushed - dead.
For the time being, at least, the Ursa seemed content with gorging itself.
If an hour had passed and the Ursa had simply left, Tydeus didn't know any better. He struck out at the branch holding him up and the wood finally gave way. Another anguished cry erupted from his throat on the way down. Even set free, a portion of the branch stuck through his right hand, and tearing it out left his throat completely shot and the gaping wound was filled with little splinters.
Much as it pained Tydeus to do so, he bit down on his right-hand sleeve and used his left hand to tear it in half in order to construct a makeshift tourniquet. Adrenaline could only do so much to ease the pain, but he could at least take to his feet in search of the beast. Gently, the shotgun was removed from its holster, but in his left hand it had lost some of its effectiveness.
Carefully,Tydeus navigated the thicket until he came upon the destroyed branches at the building's entrance. In his continued search the very top edge of his sight caught his attention — the ceiling had been marked by a row of what might have been claw marks. Carefully, he advanced according to the trail and the sound, eventually coming upon the edge of a pool of blood. A few more steps took him to the grisly scene and, more importantly, his quarry.
Close as he was he felt confident in the shot, but he couldn't have the Ursa leaving his sight again. Just before he pulled the trigger he lowered his angle, hoping to snag the monster's hind legs and hamper its movement.
[269/1185]
Notes
More parlor tricks! Popping Firing Line, noted below for convenience.
Firing Line
Exemplifying their mid-range potential, a Sclopeto practitioner aims to keep their target within a sweet spot of their firing range. In fact, shots fired in that range are greatly augmented, capable of carrying a destructive stopping power.
This ability costs 600 Vigor. The Rifleman augments their next shot, increasing the magnitude of the shot fired by one tier of damage. Targets in between 20m and 30m are also halted in their tracks for one round. Two rounds must pass before this ability may be used again. Requires a ranged weapon.
The door to Cicely’s impromptu workshop sprung open, and through it came Cat with three students behind her wheeling in barrels of ethanol. “Put them down over there, carefully!” she ordered them.
One look at the laicar woman and it was plain to see why it had taken her a moment longer to get the ethanol to Cicely. In her hands, around her waist, her shoulders, and even strapped to her legs, were various loaded pistols that she held at the ready. All in all it looked like she was ready to go to war.
“Do what you need to Cicely,” the young engineer said with a warm smile, “I’ll just be out here watching as a guard in case that bear mistakes this room for a cave to sleep in.” Hefting one of her guns as if to emphasize her point, Cat threw her shoulder back into the door and slipped out, the three students left alone with Cicely.
“M-ma’am,” one of the students - a yellow-hued velen - began shakily, “Cat said we should help you however we can. She said the more alchemists the more help? … What exactly are you planning?”
Back outside, Albanus cursed.
“Hey!” he shouted, “That thing didn’t just go into the academy did it?” Relaxing the tension on his bow, the enlil alchemist dropped down out of his tree and rushed over to Urias and Phorcys. He stopped himself short of yelling at them as his red eyes caught sight of Urias’s wound, and he let out another curse.
If that thing went into the academy that meant that Cat could be hurt.
Grinding his teeth the enlil choked off his fears and focused on actually being useful. The alchemist knelt down next to the wounded man and set aside his bow. Quickly he sought out the wonderful power of Castus by praying, “O’ wondrous light, a poor boy has taken a tumble in the fields. I beseech you to sooth their troubles.”
Brilliant white light began to shine forth from the enlil’s hands as he laid them over Urias.
“I don’t know who you are,” Albanus muttered, “but my friend is in there trying to help.” His red eyes looked up to Phorcys, “I can’t do much else than this….”
He wanted to say more, to beg them to help where he couldn’t but it was pointless. These people were already helping as much as they could. Albanus just needed to make sure they could keep helping.
The zealot sat calmly near the professor. Arcing between the two men the warm glow of Castus magics was clearly visible.
“Would you believe Urias,” the velen began attempting small-talk, “that I was never certified as a medicus? The hundred oaths they swear do not bind my hands. Know which one I am most glad I did not take?”
The warm glow dissipated, replaced by something akin to a dying flame. Phorcys’ lifeforce seemed to leap and spark until it finally dissipated. Next to the velen a blue-hued woman appeared. Every breath she took was accompanied by a small puff visualizing it. She stood naked with her longer hair covering her more salacious parts. Draped over her limbs were a series of chains, a pair for her wrists and ankles as well as a collar around her neck. The metal seemed odd, sea-green in color and didn’t seem to be inhibiting the demon at all.
“Primum non nocere.” The woman said with a devastatingly sweet tongue.
“Above all, do no harm.” The velen repeated with a deep sigh. “I cannot help but wonder what happened to our friend the Saint. I have the sneaking suspicion that this attack is not going to be isolated, one which I hope isn’t confirmed in a few moments.
“Bai, anything on the beast?”
“Nothing,” the demon responded curtly, “I’ll make sure you know full well when your entrailed are being ripped out.”
Cicely looked at the barrel of ethanol. All that two-hundred proof alcohol, or as close to it as possible. They came on pushcarts for easy transport. She grinned at the others, Cat especially. "Thanks, Cat! As for the plan, I have yet to meet a living being that won't get drunk off enough alcohol. And getting drunk is primarily a factor of weight versus the amount ingested. Of course it's possible to build up a tolerance, but an animal would have no such opportunities," she explained.
While doing so, she mixed together the prepared binary explosive into a small vial. Cicely pried open the cap of the barrel before leaning it back so where was a nice, gentle slope. She dropped in the unstable explosive and then quickly shut the opening.
"When drinking the alcohol, there are several functions in the stomach and liver that helps the body cope with the effects and break down the toxin. Because, let's face it, alcohol can be considered a toxin. However, such effects do not occur in the intestines. And it is not only possible to absorb alcohol into the intestines, it will happen much faster to dangerous levels."
Cicely fitted the top of the barrel with the hose she found. The gloves and lard were placed on top for later use. "That is why I'll be introducing the alcohol rectally, completely bypassing any of the body's natural defense against it."
She pushed out on the non-damaged door to the storage room. Taking a peak outside, she found no signs of the ursa major, but a trail of flattened branches and plants revealed where it went. Cicely turned back to the students. "If this turns out not to work, I do have the makings of a binary explosive over there. Maybe that can help."
Cicely then dragged her keg out of the storage room while trying to keep it as steady as possible.
The explosive pop-bang of gunfire echoed in the small kitchen, buckshot pinging off the floor as it angled into the rear left paw of the ursa. A low groan of pain mingled with the hungry slurps of the bear as it feasted, and its head shot back to glare at the offending intruder.
A low bellow built in its chest, and its cumbersome form wheeled as swiftly as it could in the cramped space. Finally facing its newest prey, fresh adrenaline began to course through the beast's veins. As all animals were wont to do, it tested its prey, sending a cursory swipe of its clawed paw towards the shot-gun wielding man.
Tip-toes and steady hands. That was what Cicely was doing. Not helping was the uneven road with cracks and holes made by the giant vines. The path led her into the main building of the university. The area was mostly clear of people, but there were bits of them there and bits of them here. Cicely shuddered and kept her eyes straight ahead. The scent of blood assaulted her. It was a thick, irony feeling that even danced about her tongue.
For the first time, she actively questioned what she was doing at all. But it was too late for that now. The ursa major was in the middle of swiping at some gun-toting man. At least that gave her enough time to prepare. Cicely donned the gloves, forgoing the snap at the end. It wasn't long at all, only covering her wrist. And the small amount of lard was used for lubricating both her hand and the hose. Nice and slippery.
While the ursa major was focused on something else, Cicely circled around to the back. She raised one finger, pressing it against her lip as a signal to the man. Step by step, ever close to the hole of victory. When within range, Cicely performed one lunge forward with a thrust. Her other hand was gripped tight on the barrel of ethanol's handle. As soon as the tube was elbow deep, Cicely kicked the barrel. It gave enough of a jolt to the small vial of explosive that the bomb went off.
But there wasn't some massive blast. The barrel fattened up but held strong. The explosion was enough to perform its intended purpose, and that was to force all of the ethanol out of the container and through the tube.
Now Cicely really hoped that the alcohol would take effect quickly and cause the ursa major to pass out from drunkenness.
The sight of chaos as the beast quickly made work of the students caused his stomach to drop. He had no words, only a mix of anger and panic welling up within him. If this was another attack like earlier, ANO had made it very clear what their motives were against anything affiliated with an Arcanum. Before he could dwell on it further, the Cicely’s distinctive hairstyle caught his eye, the enormous barrel in tow confusing him further.
“What the--”
Urias jolted up as he saw the barkeep approach the ursa. However, the sudden movement sent a spike of pain through his core forcing him back down again. While the Castus spells were slowly knitting together the wounds, it would still be a bit before he was back in action. His foolhardy attempt to face the beast on his own had worked out about as well as he expected.
That being said, watch Cicely carry out her... plan... did serve as a good distraction. The pervasive stench of a large quantity of ethanol diffused through the courtyard. “Is that...” Urias was too dumbfounded to continue the sentence.
“If she’s doing what I think she is... you need to be ready to either suppress it or attempt to find additional guards to have them it Phorcys,” explained the still injured professor.
“I don’t quite know how to respond to that,” the velen said dumbfounded. Phorcys began to get up from where he had been seated. A heavy sigh accompanied the zealot brushing off the dirt from his robe.
“I believe the guards should be here momentarily as word of the commotion gets out, however more pressing matters deserve our attention.”
The velen darted down the path to follow the girl. The smell of blood gave the zealot pause, he had known the world to be cyclical, to need chaos as well as order to find its balance. This, this was carnage for its own sake. Books lay in tatters on the floor soaked in the mingled blood of their owners. A small curse managed to squeeze its way through the zealots mouth as he promised retribution to the maniacs who had caused this mayhem.
Finally, Phorcys had the girl and the ursine in his sights, though he was anticipating the woman’s plot was to attempt to incapacitate the bear rather than actually attempt to harm it. All along the floor, reaching from behind the beast where its body refused some of the liquid that was being loaded into it, as well as around the the tube which had connected the beast to the barrel with the ethanol.
A quick nod to the spirit and the velen was down on a single knee, his gun in his hand ready and aimed at the woman. “I’m getting very good at this shot,” the zealot mused with a smile as the harpoon snaked its way from the weapon into the girl’s calf. A secondary press of the trigger and the girl was on her back being dragged away from the beast.
At the same time the demon had positioned itself above the barrel, a wicked glint in its eyes.
“I applaud the bravado girl,” the velen mused as the currents of Bellator began to radiate from both himself and the demon, “however sometimes you must simply cauterize the situation.”
The demon’s hand rocketed forward and with it a gout of flame. It kissed the trail of liquid and mingled with the already evaporating concentrations that had begun to perfume the air. All at once a trailing inferno was making its way back towards the creature.
The sounds of the harpoon gun diverted the beast’s attention, the streak of bright color from Cicely’s abrupt extraction only served to confuse it further. That being said, any response was short lived as the effects of the concoction began to take hold. It began to sway from side to side, the intoxication hitting almost instantly. It stumbled to the side, falling with a heavy thud onto its side. Roars and whimpers of various types exited the wild animal’s mouth almost continuously.
The flame magic struck the alcohol ridden air, an enormous chain reaction being set off. First the vapors ignited, the air itself appearing to burst into a brilliant flame. The falling sparks struck the barrel, the flammable material providing a new conduit for the volatile reaction. There was hardly a moment before the room erupted in a deadly conflagration. The building was blown apart, the stored pressure having nowhere to go but out.
Shrapnel and rubble splintered outwards in all directions, showing the courtyard with further rubble. The remainder of the crowd scattered to safety, attempting to avoid the fire that had broken out. The blaze continued to climb, though was quickly running out of potential fuel. The smoke concealed the nature of the ursa who served as ground zero, though it did not require any stretch of the imagination to assume what occurred.
Urias stumbled backwards, the combined healing providing him at least some modicum of strength to move. The shrapnel showered him, covering him with cuts and bruises from the falling debris. He coughed out, the smoke permeating out towards the gathered. With uneasy steps the moved back to escape the blast zone.
However, instead of relief that the threat had been removed, anger built in the pit of his stomach. Targeting the university, targeting the place that he now called his home… This was another brazen attack by those who had certified themselves as simple terrorists. His home had now been turned into a warzone, and he fully intended to become a soldier.
The golden-eyed man carried a grim expression, a somewhat intimidating display attributed mainly to his height. He gripped his hand around the sheathed rapier, his intent made clear. He announced in a tone that made it clear he was not willing to hear any objections, “The Prophet Vexus must be protected. We’re leaving for Jactatio now.”
Final: 2195
READ
Everyone post your last replies, then I'm locking this thread. Urias is going to Jactatio.
The velen’s mind was swimming, blood from a cut above his brow trickled down into his left eye. Elsewhere, the debris had cut gashes into his arms and torso, though luckily Phorcys had escaped the worst of the blast. His lungs heaved trying to remove the black smoke that they had inhaled, nearby his demon seemed to hover placidly already content at the condition of its master.
With his thoughts still scrabbling, the zealot made out only a single word of the professor's statement though the rest filled itself in. “I understand the desire to protect, I advise a level head.”
The warm light of Castus flowed through Phorcys, the searing pain on his brow began to dim until it finally went numb, replaced instead by a coagulated slightly smaller scab. Slowly, the velen got up.
“I suggest we act quickly though, lest the terrorists use the confusion brought about by this to end the saint while most of the guards flounder. Vexus was believing they would target the largest possible civilian population. Call a cab and we’ll make way for Jactatio and hopefully find him first. If these men seek to act like animals, I say lead them to the slaughter.”
No matter how Tydeus pressured his legs, he had feared that they would not take him quickly enough. Between the pungent aroma meeting his nostrils and the quick action of the strangers he'd thought he was aiding, there was hardly enough time for him to exit the building.
What had followed rivaled some of the largest explosions he'd witnessed, though part of him feared that after twenty years inside his nerves had worn down more than he would have liked. At the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that his ability to deal with an immediate threat had been lacking. It was enough for him to look down at his calloused hands and question why he'd shown up in the first place.
Still, Tydeus was still alive and the problem had, one way or another, been solved. Were it not for the fact that he'd come to Terminus with immediate and personal business, the colossal bear and exploding schools would have convinced him to leave. He was at least self-aware enough to recognize that staying around violence and chaos of this magnitude would quickly force him back into his bad habits. With the thought of avoiding what he'd left behind in mind, he made a decision to leave before somebody started asking him questions.
Just as Tydeus quietly slipped into the panicked crowd to take his leave, he ensured that his weapon was secured in its holster, concealed within his jacket. It occurred to him that if Ursa Major attacks were common to Terminus, he may have need of it again.
