Have You Seen My Sons? (Open)

[lourickbaker]

Gone. Both of them were gone without a trace into the dense crowd. Two children, two very small children…his children…they had vanished without him into this mess. Lourick’s heart raced uncontrollably, skin clammy with the heavy sweat that he had suddenly broken with his panic and confusion. He turned in every direction and eyed each corner of his location, seeing people, people, and more people passing him by and occasionally passing him a condescending stare. He didn’t notice, though – his vision was blurring from a rise in his blood pressure. There was more than a good chance that Lourick had never looked more frantic in his life, dripping heavily with icy perspiration and completely beside himself in shock.

“Cory! Ambrose!” he shouted as he began running through the crowd, pushing past people in a vain effort to find the two faces that he had lost. If they had heard, though, their answer was surely drowned out in the talking. “Cory!” he cried again. “Ambrose! Answer me!” Right and left, over his shoulder and down to his feet: no matter where he looked, neither child was there to be found. He pushed past several more people, working his way to the edge. Even if he did find them, he determined, he would never forgive himself for losing them, even only for a second.

At last staggering nervously out of the crowd, Lourick started running through a more scanty crowd in the street, calling names and asking questions. Only to his bitter alarm, not one person he approached claimed to have seen them anywhere. In the rage of painful fright, the werewolf felt as though his chest was about to implode as he ran breathlessly from place to place with an unsuccessful intent. He never stopped running, though, words flying from his mouth at millions of miles per hour as he blathered and begged for people to find his sons, most of his pleas going ignored by uncaring passersby. This was a disaster, and whether or not it would end was a dim prospect.

Hours passed by. Lourick could swear that there wasn’t one person there that he hadn’t stopped by now, and completely out of energy, he was doing all he could to keep his knees from buckling underneath of him. In the near vicinity, he could see a church, standing tall against the sky, a beacon of his dying hope, and suddenly compelled to walk toward it, he stumbled on in its direction. Maybe it was his hope that dragged him further toward it or simply his desperation and weariness, but somehow he felt compelled to at least go inside and rest. In his heart was a knowledge that it was best; without energy, he would never be able to find them.

Stumbling into the doors, he took a moment to admire the structure, a gambit to take his mind off of the panic as he made his way toward the front. The further he walked toward the pulpit, however, the weaker he became in the knees, and suddenly losing his physical constitution, he collapsed onto them, barely catching himself by the palms as he lowered himself to the floor. He was physically incapable of pulling himself along any further. There werewolf was temporarily beaten. If he died or even slept here without finding his boys…the werewolf knew that hell would be waiting for him.

[david]

"Father...I know I've been rather-"

"Father, I haven't spoken to you in a long-"

"You know, Father, you should take this as a complement that I'm even-"

David stopped. What on earth was he doing? He was talking to a sculpture placed on two blocks of wood. This wasn't Jesus. Or God. Or whatever He was these days. After over twelve years of not stepping foot in a church, why was he here now? The distressed hunter ran his fingers through his curly hair in frustration, now drenched slightly in sweat as he had forced himself to come here and let out all his sorrows.

He sighed, beginning to laugh brokenly at this pathetic act. He traced the silver chain around his neck, remembering how he had broken off the cross that hung from it so many years ago. "I was a man of God once," he said quietly to himself. "I chose You over my studies, my family, my friends...and how had You repayed me, Father?" David looked up angrily at the statue, his sight blurry behind his protective lenses.

"You took everything from me...everything. I lived to serve You and You took everything. Was that just a sick test? Was it? I know I failed...is this forever my punishment now?" David's voice wavered slightly, closing the long trench coat closer to him, not letting the monstrosities on his back to slither out at this moment. "I've become something I'm not...I made myself into a monster. I may have not become this willingly...or maybe I have?"

The broken man stared sadly at the bowed head of Jesus, who had suffered so much Himself when he was human. "Is it too late to ask forgiveness?" He fell on his knees then, shaking. The actuators were confused by these acts of their master and chattered ceaselessly in his mind. They would never understand. They were only machines, after all.

David didn't have the heart to silence them, he only began to sink more to the floor, chanting his apology until he heard the church door swing open. David quickly rose to his feet, although clumsily from the weight on his back as the actuators still tried to hide themselves in the coat. It wasn't easy, at all.

When David saw the man fall to his knees, he wondered if perhaps, maybe, this was a chance to redeem himself. He hurried to the man's side, only hesitating a second before holding out his hand for him. "Are you all right, sir? You look exhausted." Not that he himself looked any better; dark circles under his eyes and pale, nearly sunken in face - now that he lost more weight recently than necessary.

Master, this is a werewolf. An enemy. You want these things exterminated, don't you? The actuators were back to talking in unison again. Was that a good thing? Their chanting murmuring almost convinced him to do an act he knew he would regret later. He didn't care that this man wasn't "human" anymore. This was a church, and this man obviously needed help. The actuators were more agitated now, and it took all his will power to make them stay hidden.

I am the master, remember? You do as I say.

The actuators slowly backed off then. It took them longer to listen to him now. He knew that was a bad sign. He tried not to think about it.

[lourickbaker]

It took Lourick more than a little time to respond, his extreme fatigue keeping him in a figurative bind and rendering his mouth temporarily locked. In fact, the closer one could get to him, the worse he had begun to appear in general. The sweat was even heavier than it had been moments before, the air making it like a cold snow against his skin. His hair was soaked through and hanging in front of his face wetly, sticking to it and seeping the salty oil down his cheeks. One rising and falling rapidly as he fought for his air, the thin back that supported him was deeply caved and barely moving at all as shallow gasping noises quietly hissed through his teeth. Above all, he looked sick at heart as he clenched his long, pale fingers into a fist and pressed them upon the arm of a pew, trying to support himself.

When spoken to, however, the werewolf looked up, sad and distressed grey orbs finding the bare thread of energy they needed to gaze with incredible discouragement into the spectacled eyes of the man who was offering him the hand. His voice sounded even weaker than he looked, when he already appeared to be completely incapacitated; it came out in a strangled whisper as he quietly pleaded, "Please...my sons...have you seen my sons...?" Voice heavy with delirium, the werewolf tried to extend his own hand, but struck down by a lack of energy once more, his arm fell and was followed by the rest of him. "My sons..."

It took no genius to realize that he was completely dehydrated and possibly hadn't eaten in quite some time. Of course, it was Lourick's own secret that he had just come here and was technically homeless. His shirt and pants were covered in dust and grime from the many places he had climbed into, ducked under, and leaped over in search of the boys he loved and missed. He might have been the epitome of bad condition had there not been people in the world that were in worse shape than he. Even then, though, he had to admit that his own situation was a bad one, and he was too weak now to get up and continue trying to make it right again.

[david]

David quickly reached to the man and helped him up, letting the stranger use him for support if need be. So he was looking for his sons? The hunter hadn't seen any children running around the church. It technically had little life in it, from what he saw when he came in here. "I'm sorry, but I haven't seen any children around here."

He was puzzled. Why would this man think his sons came to a church? Or was he just seeking help? "Where did you last see them?" he asked helpfully. By the way this man looked, it was doubtful he could keep searching in his condition. "Perhaps if you give me a description I could help find them." The actuators were very good at tracking, especially with their heat sensors. Even more so by the race they were. "Are they werewolves too?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to sound threatening. If he got enough details, he could find them quickly - if nothing happened to them, that is.

The actuators moved restlessly behind him, hissing in his mind from impatience. Why help it, Master? It is a mere monster.

Quiet, David ordered, closing his eyes for a moment to clear his head. "My name is David. I used to be a priest. I can help," he added again, hoping not to distress this man any further.

[lourickbaker]

Unfortunately, trying not to further distress Lourick didn't seem to be a possibility at this point. From the point at which he was questioned about his sons' race, he had begun to look increasingly uneasy. Too weak and tired to flee the scene, though, he had no choice but to stay in David's support. If this man meant him no ill will, he'd be a good percentage safer to just stay where he was until he was able to move around. The defeated werewolf just prayed upon his last ounce of luck that nobody would come at him and try to kick his ass while he was in this state.

"My boys..." he mumbled, reaching into his pocket for the worn leather wallet that was with him as constantly as his sons had been, pulling it out of his jeans pocket and starting to unfold it. Within were just a few things, namely debit, library, and rewards cards along with his drivers license and one small pocket devoted to pictures. The final pocket being the one he chose to delve into, his fingers pulled gently at a three-by-five-inch portrait of the family, a pretty arrangement of Lourick sitting against a background with both boys on his knees. There was no doubt that those boys were his, the brown-haired and blue-eyed Ambrose sitting on the left knee, the black-haired and blue-eyed Cory on his right. For such a small family, they looked very happy, as though the smile for the camera hadn't been a complete ruse. It was perhaps one of the many reasons that Lourick was worried sick about them.

And he continued to look sick as he worried about them.

He offered the picture to his conversation with shaking hands. "...They...they're here..." He pointed out each boy and stated the name. "Ambrose...and Cory Baker..." His breathing was still uneasy as he spoke - it looked like he was about to cry. He didn't, though, but instead opted to keep himself strong for their sake. Tears never brought anyone back; he knew that firsthand. "I'm...Lourick Baker..."

[david]

David studied the picture, making sure his eyes took in everything as the reading was sent to the actuators. They knew by now what they were supposed to find. He nodded slightly, smiling thinly. "They look like very good kids. You should rest here," he said as he helped Lourick to a pew. "I'll try my best to find them. " He paused for a moment. "I have my ways."

With a slight salute, David turned to walk away, his trench coat dragging behind him. He hoped from behind that the man hadn't spotted the metallic silver of the machines attached to his back. David made sure they understood to be completely silent around the werewolf. He didn't want to make things more difficult.

But as soon as he opened the church doors and walked out, watching them close shut behind him, the actuators burst out and grabbed hold of the cathedral. They climbed their way up until David reached the very top of the church tower. From there, the actuators had a perfect view of the area and they began scanning it all, zooming in when need be.

David only hoped these poor, young boys weren't captured and sent to a slave ring.

[lourickbaker]

As he watched the man go, the werewolf couldn't help but to yearn to be out there with him, but with as worn-out as he felt, there was no way he'd be up and running anytime soon. Despite, Lourick felt that there was something constructive to be done with his sitting-down time, and as he eyed the religious carvings, he sudden onset of faith that he hadn't felt in some time. He knew what it meant, and he knew what he had to do, and without wasting another minute, Lourick leaned forward onto the pew in front of him and bowed his head. "Father God..." he whispered into the thin air, "if you hear me...if you still care for a damned man...please...help me find my sons..." As he spoke, his voice began to break. "I'll do anything..."

The tears were mingled with the sweat on his face, disguising his sadness for a moment as he shielded his face from view and continued the desperate plea for help. He knew that without faith, the prayer would be completely useless, and with as little of it as he had displayed throughout recent years, he found himself trying to make up for it. He had to; his boys were out there, quite alone. He had to wonder if they were alright, if they were afraid. The werewolf also had to wonder if they were alright and if they missed him as much as he missed them...

As much as he missed Marley.

"Stop it..." he told himself. "Don't get yourself onto that tangent..."

[thecrimsonraven]

"Oh my, what melancholy disquietude be this?" A chill voice struck up like nails against the ivory slate that paved the otherwise silent pews. A black shape moved like as subtle as ice bergs in winter between alabaster pillar and marble carved effigies of saints that, in the face of modern nights, seemed to be gather more cobwebs then converted. There, appearing from behind the statute at which the newly alone werewolf prayed; stalked out from his hiding, well dressed as always, Hazaar. Wearing a masquerade smile, he gave an unsettling reassurance in his tone that balanced against the gruff, sharpness of his words. Even in the few dimmed beams of sunlight the split over the stain glass high above, Hazaar put out a most eerie essence as he slouched his way into full view.

He gave a polite bow and a generious tip of his bowler hat. "Good afternoon my son. I am Father," there was a pause, no shorter then a breath, to think a name as holy as it was fast, "Mable. And what brings you to this house of worship mite I ask?" He thought he played the pious priest well.

Far from the unnecessary deception, there was something less then right in the air. The two boys; ripped from their father and thrown into sleep. They would only just be waking up now; to blood in their mouths and wood chips scattered across the floors. Groggy from their unconscious transportation and confused by their sudden surroundings; the two boys were imprisoned in a ware house building. It was completely empty save for a single massive crate and the sawdust everywhere. Pain throbbed from the head trauma given as a sedative. If they had been aware and alert, they would have noticed how that single create balanced a ticking egg timer on it's top and how the sides of create seemed to be...bleeding.

[david]

David visibly tensed, the actuators catching the sound of a voice down bellow. No one else was in the church besides Lourick. And even though he hardly heard him talk, that was obviously not his voice. Some parts of the unknown person's words were captured, but the actuators were aggravated to find no signature of a second person in the building.

What the hell? David thought, furrowing his brows. This wasn't good. But a loud whirring noise caught his attention.

Master, we've caught familiar signatures of two young werewolves.

"Where?" he asked, wondering why they weren't showing him in his mind.There was a long hesitation before they answered.

Remember the warehouse we used?

David paused, staring at the upper left actuator who had spoken by itself once more when the others wouldn't speak with it. He nearly paled. How could those kids be there? It wasn't even safe...or stable. That was more or less the reason he had left it weeks ago. How had they gotten there?

Something didn't set right with him. He quickly climbed down, the actuators being as quiet as they could allow themselves without dropping David to his death. Once landed, they slipped into his trench coat again. The hunter then pushed the doors open, spotting the stranger with Lourick. This man was no priest. He gave off no reading. It was as if he was dead...not a vampire. They at least gave off something.

"Lourick, was it?" David said quickly, "I think I've found them." Another wary glance to the stranger, he hurried to the werewolf's side as he whispered, "They have been left in some abandoned warehouse. You have any idea how that's possible?"

[lourickbaker]

Quieter than his prayer came the mournful look of a father on the verge of losing all, and as he looked up to spy the stranger speaking with him, he found that once more his jaws were hesitant to unlock. Deep in the pit of his soul, he not to talk, but rather to be out there searching alongside David for the precious cargo that had disappeared from around his feet. This, among other silent emotions, swam over Lourick's face in the form of the same salty tears and sweat that had earlier dampened it. In trying to communicate, however, he swallowed hard to relieve his throat of a tight, lumpy feeling and parted two trembling lips. His words, like his appearance, were discorded and barely there.

"My boys..." he murmured, trying to push himself back up into a proper sitting position. "I've lost my boys..." His voice was full of the desperate emotion that wouldn't come through earlier, result of his panic. "Have you seen them...? I've looked everywhere..." The more he spoke, the more delirious and tired he sounded. He actually looked ready to fall over and nearly did when he heard his name being spoken by the one who had been their earlier. His alarm grew when he heard of their location, and without thinking about his current energy level, he pushed himself up, shaking his head in disbelief. "Take me to them...!" he begged. "Please...!"

There was no doubt that one awake, both boys would be terrified. After all, they had been swept away in the blink of an eye from the only person and life they new, only to be put into the horrific situation that they would find themselves in. Ambrose was the first to come alive, blue eyes wide with fear as he brushed a milky hand through his bangs and tried to get them out of his eyes. This wasn't home at all. Where was Daddy?

"...Cory..." he tried to croak, looking to the brother that groggily began stirring to life along with him, dizzying himself with the words from his mouth as they buzzed through his head like an unwanted mechanical contact against the head. "...Wake up, Cory..." Ambrose sounded a little more than alarmed once he realized the taste in his mouth, and suddenly wondering if his brother felt the same, he tried to get closer to him; Cory had begun wailing quietly from the discomfort. Wrapping two thin arms around the youngest son, he pulled him close to let him know that at least one of his family was still there with him, and without question, the other latched and held on tight. They were alone, and neither of them liked it.

[thecrimsonraven]

Between their sounds of brotherly comfort and moping in agony; there came the calm splitting sound bring a crashing end to their confusion and flooded what little reason was left in that room with panic and fear. The egg timer sprung into action, shaking itself so violently as to take a spinning leap to the ware house floor, destroying it and send plastic and springs spurting outwards in the force of it's fall. It seemed there was more to this mechanism then just a timer. The bleeding box now began to pour it's liquids onto the floor with new fervor. It was not blood; but a mix of clay, ash and water whose earthy aroma mixed with the scent of hickory wood shavings that already dominated the air. The squelching, vicious liquid poured onto the floor, flowing it a set pattern that seemed almost hollowed out from the rotting wood floor panels; the sounds of automated pumps obvious in the back ground. The wood shavings had hidden it, some sort of circle dug directly into the floor. The air was growing heavier, as if even the building had a sense of dread. As the last drops of liquid slipped out of the holes in the crate; the deafening sound of sizzling and sight of smoke rose from all around until every drop in the elaborate circle was dried. The red mark grew silent, but not a moment after: the crate stirred. One scrape. Like a knife on glass. Another scrape. Claws against marble. The sounds of straining; the crate bulged in places; snapping the panel of wood with ear shattered cracks, the air a swarm of splinters and rivets.

Finally a moment's silence settled again. There was a sound, the ripping sort that only skin could make. But it was not from the box. Hauling Ambrose up by the snapped bones his by now shattered arm; something large, grey and recking of rot torn him from his half conscious brother as it slinked from it's shadows. Tossing him to the far side walls so he landed just short and bounced against them like a fleshy tennis ball. It took off at him like a feral hound; disregarding the smaller child. Lumbering off, the horror is an amalgam of body parts, bloated by decay and strengthened by unknown means. It's main body was a massive torso and stomach, a line of human teeth running all the way around it's length like a zipper. This endless maw was what it had used on the poor victim boy in it's initial assault. Now it galloped at him on four mismatched legs crudely sown against the torso; each ending in a set of three hands that made a sound like the breaking of bones each time it's weight came down on them. A whip lash tongue, at least 3 meters long, slipped out from the half unhinged jaws; flailing in the air as it bore down on the defenseless child.

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Hazaar raised an eyebrow, trying hard to make it seem out of concern and placed his warm hand reassuringly on the distressed fathers shoulder " Oh dear. Missing children? I belie-" Hazaar's words were cut short by the bursting open of cathedral doors. Still he kept his contempt under lock and key; eying the hunter with something between a friendly smile and smirk of superiority, that sort of look worn only by those that know more then they're ever going to tell you. He replaced his hat onto his head and, assisting Lourick as best he could, ushered them out of the church with no small amount of anecdotal behavior, an internal joke about a priest sending worshipers away. "Then for the sake of these children, lets be on our way!"His voice, filled with force and urgency, was very different from the sallow greeting given but moment before. Thrusting the doors open to the Halloween orange streets of later sun set, he waiting with impatience for the trench coated man to lead them on to discovery.

[david]

David did not trust this man. He was like a dead man walking and he knew nothing good would come of this. Yet, what else could he do? Ever with his guard up, he walked on ahead of them. "I've been to the warehouse before," he said distractingly. "It was never a safe place, but I'm sure they are fine. Maybe they just got lost."

Trying as he might to make the matter not so bad, he failed miserably. He doubted they were fine at all, but for the sake of the children and their father, he hoped, prayed that he was wrong. But the foreboding he felt, even the actuators held doubt of the children's safety.

David cursed inwardly. They could get there so much faster if he used his actuators. Finally, he made his choice. Come out, he commanded. Almost in relief, the actuators came free of their hiding place as gracefully as any serpent, then coiled a bit around their master before the upper right actuator picked up Lourick from the ground. David didn't bother with the other stranger. "Don't be afraid. We can get there faster this way."

Without much more to say, the hunter's metal limbs, or the remaining three, lifted him off the ground as they stretched out to stomp their way through the city streets; the warehouse wasn't too far off. David didn't bother to look back at the hatted stranger, and really didn't care if he was following or not. Something was wrong with that man. He only hoped he hadn't given Lourick a heart attack by his sudden revealing, but what choice did he have? If those kids were in danger like he believed they were, this was the fastest possible way to get there.

And at last, the warehouse was a mere foot away from them when he stopped. He could already feel dread sweep over him. He could smell death here. Even the actuators were nervous and agitated as they began their ceaseless chatter in his mind. They held a great alarm.

Master, it isn't safe. We should leave.

I can't. Those kids are in there, whether dead or alive. Lowering Lourick back to the ground, he hurried inside. Something inhuman was in there, he could smell it. Nothing came up on the readings - just like the stranger from before. Though, he knew something was here. His senses didn't lie. "Hello?" he called. He swore he could hear crying. It was distant, but it was there. "Don't worry, I'm coming!" Maybe the two boys were all right after all; at least he heard one of them crying. David ran to the direction of the boy's voice, even if he felt it was a bad idea.

[lourickbaker]

Woken from his painful stupor further by the sudden tearing away of his only comfort, the younger child began to wail miserably, a deafening howl-like cry that ached in Ambrose's ears. No matter how hard he screamed, though, the circumstance never stopped. "Am!" he shrieked. "AM!" Not the articulate two-year-old, Cory was only ever able to utter the first half of his brother's name. "AM! AM...BOSE!" Miserable tears of the worst imaginable terror streaked down the terrorized child's face as he called from his place, not daring to move as he watched his brother become the plaything of this awful beast.

"Cory...!" his voice was strangled by his own pain and fear. "Stay!" It was all he could do to save his brother's life now, to make him stay in place. The pain was worse than ever, and albeit that toddlers didn't have the greatest of thinking capacities, it was more difficult for him now. His own shrieks came loud and clear, but not once were they as loud as his younger brother.

--

Taken by surprise, the woozy werewolf yelped as he was hoisted up, but he was presently unable to question by what means. His sons were out there, and if this man knew where they were, he had no right to question until he had the children back in his arms. "Oh God..." he lurched nauseously, throwing a hand over his mouth. His nerves weren't in the best of conditions right now, nor was his stomach. He would have continued his plea to be with his sons had he not felt the sudden urge to vomit.

Lourick just kept his mouth shut. He had learned from experience that the less covered in sputum a person was, the more willing they were to help.

When released at last, though, Lourick didn't hesitate to run after David, the sounds of his sons' voices ringing in his head like air raid sirens. "CORY!" he screamed to the top of his lungs. "AMBROSE! I'M COMING!"

[thecrimsonraven]

Hazaar stopped in his tracks at the sight of the metal limbs that thrust snaked into view from their hiding place beneath the human's coat. He almost moved backwards with surprise. he tilted his head at the curious sight; a spidery man with mechanical limbs air lifting a werewolf to find his pups. There was a joke in there somewhere. "Well you gentlemen seem more then capable without the likes of me! I'll meet you back at the church, with cargo in hand I'm sure." He gave out his encouraging shout. As their shadows leaped off in the target's direction, Hazaar was left alone in the alley way. He adjusted his hat and scratched his cheek. Digging into his pocket he draw one of his pocket watches out. Rather then plot the day's time it seemed to wind up a certain amount of time before stopping. Drawing another and unclasping it's cover he compared the two in the sinking sun light.

"Oh dear..." He spoke out allowed with no real audience in mind. Spinning on his heel, he began to walk slowly back to the church, humming to himself an ironically lively tune as he strode.

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What perfect timing. The body was truly a perfect machine, in tune with a universe of tragedy. Ambrose little but a morsel. The beast had broken it's charge and stopped directly over the child; leaning it's top half towards him. It's thick, sinewy tongue whipping around the boy's leg; bards and bone matter shredding his legs deep into flesh, wet with cold sweat. Powerful and indifferent, the maw was like fishing reel: drawing him up into the blanket of muscle and teeth that waited outstretched. Even the speed of chivalry could not stop the beast, for when Lourick and David arrive; on the far side of the massive room no less, the creature simply turned it's torso to them.There, nestled between it's flesh forged jaws, the battered child was still being coiled in the cutting tongue. One arm reached out in protest, strained once for his father's image; but a final, echoing sob ended it. The jaws slammed shut. A spray of blood shot from the stitched lips that run the torso's length. Then it started dripping, and all that remained of the boy was a forearm, still desperately outstretched and twitching in the aftermath. As the creature began to adjust itself, blood and phlegm mixed and drooled from it's lateral mouth, and then the grinding started. The sound of bones snapping and the soft squelch bloody meat between gum and tooth filled the empty space in dinner symphony.

[david]

David’s face as twisted in a sympathetic agony of the sight he had just witnessed. He had been too late. One of the sons had just been savagely eaten by this…this thing. Never before had he seen something like this in all his years of experience. The hunter could feel himself getting sick, as the stench this monster gave off was enough for the strongest stomach to weaken, but he held firm.

He was furious now; with himself and how he had let this happen. If he had left before telling Lourick, maybe he would have had more time. Right now, though, he had to stop this grotesque manifestation before it got to anyone else. He needed to get The man and his son out of here - and fast. First, he needed to get the fleshy creature’s attention only on him. It would give Lourick enough time to grab Cory and run…if he wasn’t shocked from what he just saw.

Damn, of course he would. David clenched his teeth and sent the actuators flying at what he believed to be something completely made up of the dead. Was this the work of a necromancer? He never ran into one before; but he knew he had to do something. If he could stun it long enough to drag Lourick and Cory to safety, he would.

The top two actuators began to rip off a bit of the roof that would fall down onto the creature’s head while the bottom two struggled to fight it and keep it positioned. Please, let this work for now, he prayed, wondering if God even listened to him anymore.