"So what are you travelling for, anyhow, Jeanne?" Michael took another gulp of dirtwater. The glass was barely half empty but he still didn' want anymore. He left it on the table and waited to recover from its detestable taste.
He gave more thought towards Bella and Lev. He had a feeling that the girl would react to his association somehow, but he didn't know if it was going to be good or bad for his causes. However, the more he thought of the girl, the more he thought of his past, and he didn't want to think of his past anymore until it was absolutely neccesary.
He took a large gulp of the dirtwater, emptying half of the contents into is throat.

Shealtiel watches Dante's antics with veiled eyes. That the man can go from... this to murderous fury is troublesome. Not that Shealtiel hasn't grown used to humanity's savagery in the past three decades, but to see it so brazenly juxtaposed with this almost child-like nonchalance is... as he mentioned before, psychopathic. Likely, the man sees no conflict between these two facets of his behavior.

Of course, the other man, Lev, is much more worrying. In their time together, Shealtiel hasn't been able to figure out if his seeming bestial disposition is the result of some inherent personality flaw, the backlash of an apocalyptic upbringing, or the manifestation of something altogether more sinister. If he has to agree with Dante on something, it is that they would all do well to stay away from the gunman from Tsavo.

He is content to remain in Michael's company for the time being, though he is certain the young man is holding back information from them all. Still, he seems to be in possession of a combination of survival skills and human decency that is surpassingly rare in the world they inhabit. He will make a fitting companion, for the time being, at least.

Hearing obnoxiously loud laughter coming from Rue's bathing room, Lev immediately sprung in to action. Revolver and knife were instantly in his hands as he moved, flying out of his room and barreling through the doorway that led in to Rue's. He looked around quickly, still on high alert for the moment. After a while he raised an eyebrow, giving her a quizzical look.

"Everything. Is okay, yes?"

"Clothing, right."

He turned, leaving the room. His heart was racing from a combat high that had never came to actually be. Back in his own bathing room, he got dressed as quickly as he could. After throwing his tattered jacket over his body, he began to rummage through his pockets, taking stock on how much ammunition he had. By running his hand through clumps of small caliber ammunition, he knew he had plenty to feed his revolver. However, he was going to be in for a long journey. He was going to need heavier munitions, no matter where he was going. His submachine gun had done well for him, but being able to remove targets from range was going to be an advantage once they left the confines of the city. After running through a list of weapons he knew of, and how likely they would be to find them in Corinth, he strode back in to Rue's room.

He caught her only partially dressed, speaking again in his flat voice.

"I need Mosin-Nagant. M19/30 if possible. I need other guns. Lots of ammunition. And will need lots of water."

A chill came over Michael as he finished the last of his drink. He would grab another if he didn't know the effects on his psychic block that the second drink would have. He decided to stay sober.
Looking to the stairs leading to the rooms of the tavern, he saw the silhouettes of two hooded figures, yet again.
After shaking his head out, Michael looked again and they were gone.
"I really hope that I'm not just intoxicated right now."

Jeanne thought for a moment, eventually responding. "It seemed the right thing to do." The town she had grown up in could no longer offer her anything, and with her brother having left the previous year, it seemed only natural to leave. After all, in her community, her skills had been redundant.

Jeanne took another sip at Michael turned his head. "Something wrong?" she asked

He nodded, leaving her to her own devices as he left the bathhouse. He strode through the city, hunting for everything on his checklist. Within an hour he had sought out and found everything he was looking for. The first things he acquired was, obviously, guns. Getting what he wanted was going to be costly, but not as costly as it would have been without his 'negotiating' skills. His demeanor and coin had earned him a weathered Mosin-Nagant slung across his back and a TT-33 Tokarev pistol strapped to his left leg. The submachine gun that had walked in to hell with him, the PPsh-41, still fastened itself to his right leg with dog collars. Several smaller handguns hid in his many pockets and hideaways, with lavish amounts of ammunition to feed them making him a walking armory. On his battered belt loops hung a single grenade, decades old and looking as if its moment of glory had long been over. Weighed down with the consequences of a lighter pocket, he made his way back in to the main stretch of Corinth. He had assumed he would be meeting back up with the girl soon, and the group he ran in to had originally been at a tavern. Trying to find them both in the same place, he began visiting establishments, giving a quick survey of each one before ducking out again. It took him four tries to find the correct one, spotting the two women, the two men, and the Meat. You tasted his flesh once. Tasted it! Consumed it. Broken down, became fuel for us! He is a part of you now! Consume the rest, like all the others! Consume the rest!

He waved a hand near his ear, dismissing something he thought he heard as he walked towards the group. He stood over them for a moment, assessing their faces before speaking.

"Am I interrupt? Looking for girl. Not here for group."

Feenai had just finished her third tankard of mead when the familiar pain of the not-so-injured man assaulted her mind and shields. She looked up at him, worried that Ruebella was right behind him. Then he asked his question and the worry shifted to what Dante would do to him. She slid out of her chair and walked away from the rest of them, beckoning for the man to follow.

Once they were a few steps away, she said in a low tone, "Your employer is not here, but I'm glad I got to see you. I think that perhaps...something is consuming your mind partly. I feel a lot of pain coming off you, and I wondered if there would be something I could do to help?"

Lev gave the woman a quizzical look. He studied her for a moment, wondering if there was something in particular she was after. After hearing that she was sensing pain from him, he gave an almost-smirk.

"I experience pain. I get shot. Stabbed. Beaten. Broken, sometimes broken open. In Tsavo, I was crucified. Very painful, do not try. But I survive these things, because that is me. Now, you maybe talk about...things. Things I say earlier. I apologize. I was hungry. Was joke."

Her flesh...she REEKS of innocence! Pure! Flesh has not been ravaged! Never been tasted! Taken! This body is weak. We need sustenance! Do you want to be human? You are what you eat, but if eating humans makes you a monster what are you? WHAT ARE YOU?!

Lev paused a moment, turning his head back towards the door as if he had heard something. He turned back to the girl, resuming his conversation.

"I no know what you mean 'consume my mind'. I feel okey. You welcome to help, if need is there. But I possess no damage now."

Meanwhile, Dante, back at the table, gripped the counter hard, gritted his teeth, and tossed down his third Madras. Of. All. The. People. Who could show up! He growled, and, perhaps partly because of the alcohol, tossed the coinbag to Michael.

"I'll...be outside...if you want to find me. Roof. Don't wanna see that guy."

Lev turned his head when Rue had entered the building, watching her with the eyes of a predator. Letting her situate herself, he held up a hand to excuse himself from Feenai so he could slink his way towards his employer. He stared in to Rue's eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to find something. His hard glare was unrelenting, the cogs in his mind calculating something. He spoke in a hushed tone, as if it would keep everyone from knowing that he was loaded down with weapons.

"I ready. We are ready?"

Slinking across the gunman's line of vision, Dante kicked the door open and climbed a windowsill, nearly falling in the process, then lay spread-eagle on the flat roof. If he was going to stay close to the girl, he would have to put up with the man...

Then he realized something. The man's aura had grown since he had first met him. It was...eviler? Brighter? Something like that. And the footsteps were different. Sounds like he's carrying something...heavier.

Feenai watched as the man left and joined Ruebella. Perhaps because of the alcohol or the fact that she felt she needed to face things, she took a deep breath and then approached their table. She placed both palms on the table to announce her presence and looked Ruebella straight in the eyes as she began to speak. "I don't expect you to accept this but I offer you my help. Everyone is always looking for information and I happen to know how to find out things, so if you need something found out that you may not need to be kept secret, I offer to do it for you. I just want to know more things about everything. And..." Feenai lowered her voice just a bit, "I am sorry for the empty threat before. That was very low of me and I will not do such a thing. I can't keep you out of my mind so you know I won't openly lie to you either."

With that, Feenai spun on her heel and marched off back to her original table, finding a waiter on the way and ordering a fourth flagon as well as a little bit of food to eat. I'd better get my strength up, especially if I just made Ruebella angry at me again.

As Feenai returns to the table, Shealtiel sets down his half-finished drink, sitting straighter in his chair. To the three of them, he inquires, "Have we established our next course of action yet? I see our friend from Tsavo has acquired a new stock of... supplies. It might be best for the rest of you to do the same; I need little, myself, but if we're to travel together, I'd prefer you all to be adequately equipped."

Dante blew out a stream of smoke, then sat up slowly. Gahh...my fingers are freezing. That the old man was talking to the rest of the people (he refused to lump himself into any collective "group") didn't escape his noticed: the snaking purple aura drifted towards the bright red one, the others, and the lion. Meh. They're probably glad I'm out of the way, huh.

Feenai looked around as she listened to the old man's words. "I kind of agree with him. There's not much I know how to use but I can probably find some place for the rest of you to find some extra weapons or something. Hey...where did Dante go? Did he leave because of that Tsavo guy?"

Michael didn't take the time to answer Jeanne's question. In fact, he barely took more notice than necessary to catch Dante's coin purse. Whispers blew past Michael's ears as the world around him seemed to speed up and then fade to black.
"Take them,"
"Spirit away,"
"Back to your home,"
"To Babylon!"
Michael dragged his formless body across his mentality. Battles that he's never fought. Women that he'd never slept with. And dying. The experience that killed him every time. Literally.
It wasn't long until the true meaning behind the memories came to the limelight. Michael hadn't experienced the feeling for 4 years.
"My parents," Michael thought to himself, putting all of his concentration back into the psychic block.
The feign memories faded although the pain was still there, and Michael looked around, noticing the gunman of Tsavo, Jeanne, Feenai, and Bella who was across the room.
Altiel was looking at him as though asking him something important, but he never heard it.
"I have to get away! A crowded area like this isn't safe."
"Excuse me," Michael softly spoke, weaving through the other patrons at the tavern, including the rest of the group. He brought the bag of coins with him, leaving what he estimated as a sufficient amount for the bartender, and then looked up to find Dante on the roof.
...
He joined him after a minute of effort.
"Do you have another smoke?" he asked. He needed to calm down, and having 'one on one time with Jez'ebel' wasn't going to make him feel any better.

Dante turned towards the voice, then asked the artificer, "...Something wrong? You're not feeling well..."

He rubbed his fingers against his palm, trying to nullify the rather chilling effects of three madras's, and passed the wavering silvery aura a smoke and light.

Lev sat down at the table next to Rue, having to unsling his rifle to even do so. He laid it down in front of him, inspecting it idly as he spoke to her.

"You in for long journey. I will follow. But I no follow blindly. I gather you search. For something. You use the people, that is clear. That is not problem. I require need to know what you search for. I..."

Slaughter...

"I know that you have been doing hiding. You not like people. You from somewhere, somewhere dark. You have been above ground shortly? Where is it-"

You hunger! They are surrounded by food but you are surrounded by your cattle! Take them! Chase them! Pull them down! Tear them apart! Sink your teeth in to their flesh! Run them down! Find the meat from before! Consume the pure one! Devour them all!

Lev put a hand to his head, pausing his speech to apply pressure to a slight headache. He turned his head, eyeing Feenai from across the room. His eyes stared at her form, considering just how tender her muscles must be. How easily he could strip the meat from her bones. Just how easily his teeth could separate her trachea from her neck, how the metallic tasting blood would gush from the wound, how...

He turned back around quickly, beginning to pant a bit. He quickly grabbed Rue's drink, downing it quickly to try to either calm or distract himself from whatever it was he was experiencing. After he finished, he slammed the cup back down. He spoke in a low growl, giving his employer a glare.

"We must leave very soon. People not good for me as well."

Michael took the smoke but rejected the light.
"Don't waste your fuel. I got it," he said, lighting it using the laser on torch mode. "We'll probably be having psychic company soon enough, and being a man who can hold his own by talent alone, I figured that you can be good company for now. Besides, it's less crowded. Psychics can be deadly when you don't know the general whereabouts, at the very least." Michael breathed heavily, nearly choking on the smoke.
"By the dead god, no matter how many of these things I smoke, they never calm me down!" he said feeling a bit more jittery than before.
"Sorry for stealing one off of you," he said handing Dante the coin bag. "I just know them; that's all, and because of that, they have an edge on me."

"That why I gave you the bag in the first place. And careful, don't go too..." He paused. Er...what am I thinking again. "...Nevermind."

He twisted, cracking his back in the process with an "Ow. Shit. That hurt," and hooked out a couple of vials from his pouch. "Where do you think I'd be able to find some quick vitamin B? I'm out, and don't really feel like accidentally poisoning people with cyanide. Speaking of which, I'll have to get myself a better blade or two. I lost my pack and two swords on my way over from Babylon..." ...and I'll need some decent stuff if that man is going to be around the psychic...

Standing up slowly, Lev slung his rifle back over his shoulder. He took another look around the room, eyes going back to their original group.

In time...

Lev nodded to himself, not really sure what the words had meant. He had remembered a headache, and possibly stealing the girl's drink. He nodded at Rue to excuse himself, and strode back to the table where everyone else was sitting. He passed a glare between them all, allowing for an awkward pause before he spoke.

"What are your plans from here?"

Rising from his seat with deliberate slowness, Shealtiel's eyes never leave Lev's. "I was about to ask the same of you," he says evenly. "If the two of you are planning to travel south, that armory you're wearing won't be enough, nor your companion's prodigious talents. Have you ever battled a demon? Not some waddling imp, but a true, black-blooded hellspawn? If you mean to come within a hundred miles of the Infernal Sea, you'll more than get your chance."

Lev grinned, giving the old codger a rather disturbing look. He had had some...experiences...with demons. He was sure of it. He couldn't recall the particular memory, but he remembered something. His voice changed once again, speaking in a clear tone instead of the usual halting speech.

"Demons are not my problem. And the way you talk, nothing that can be possessed can dispose of them. I can manage them. I will take my leave now."

He gave him a sneer disguised as a smile, walking back over towards Rue. He ordered her more than he spoke to her, forgetting his place for the moment.

"Let's go."

Shealtiel watches Lev walk briskly away, one eyebrow arched. He apparently didn't care where we were going, after all...

There is something... off about the man from Tsavo. Several times now, Shealtiel has felt a stirring in the ether emanating from the man, but whatever it is, it hides itself well. Granted, he could quest for it and find out, but doing so would alert whatever presence was masking itself in the gunman's soul.

"Do you think only humans rape and defile the lands of Kenya? Of Tsavo? Do you-"

He cut himself off, realizing he was getting angry for no reason. He felt that he was adequately covering anything they might run across, short of a Horseman. But this was not about him. Not yet. He was under her employ, so he would be doing what she decided. He lowered his voice, attempting to come off as more...docile. As docile as Lev was capable of, anyway.

"Apologies. I forget my place."

Feenai had already been spending the last several minutes combing the Network for any information when the old man started talking about demons. "Then we might need some obliteration rounds, maybe some dispersion grenades..." she mumbled to herself as she scanned the information on demons, "and maybe a special sword for Jo...err...Jeanne if we can find it. One of those psychic flails maybe as an alternate weapon for HER. As for me..." Probably nothing, except those cronostatic grenades. I could make sure they fall in a specific spot if I practiced.

She turned her attention back to armories in Corinth. There were several, but poorly stocked. Except... Feenai spoke up, though only the old man and Jeanne were present. "There is a well stocked armory in the north part of town. We may be able to get what we need there. As for how we get it, we can either try to buy some, or sneak in if you and the others feel up to it. I can help you either way, though...probably not very directly if you want to steal things." She paused, trying to word things without sounding strange. "I think we should follow those two. They seem to be up to something big and they may need help."

Shealtiel's eyes flick over to Feenai. "Is it an Alliance armory?" He asks sharply. "They're not likely to sell their equipment; they want you to hire their soldiers, not buy them out. Stealing from them would have... repercussions, as well." He looks around hastily. "Where has Michael gotten to? If he has a high enough standing in the Artificers, he may be able to get us inside without breaking any laws. Oh, and I can't imagine Corinth was stocking more than two Wrath Swords. Who knows if they survived Typasius' fight with the Rephaim. If so, Acacias likely wants them back, badly."

Feenai scanned the Network and answered quickly. "Yes, it's an Alliance armory... The other one have with we need but we'd have to stop at ALL of them, except for the Wrath Sword." Since her shields were already down, she mentally scanned the area. "Michael is on the roof. If we are all done eating, shall we go out and see what he and Dante wish to do?"

"Well depending on the sword you want, I could build it. There's also an armory north of here that has some nice weapons that pack a punch. Although I doubt to be able to get anything from there immediately, through a week of processing...or a few minutes of sneaking you could get a Wrath Sword or something like that." Michael looked at Dante for a moment. He had a decent build and a face, excluding his eyes, which he could not see, looked trustworthy and deviously playful, a good combination... "But I'm normally bad a reading people by looks anyways."
"It's also possible that going to the alliance armory can be a good shield against the psychics who are after me. I'm sure they'd have anything that you would really need."
Looking down, Michael noticed two hooded people standing in front of the door to the tavern.
"Shit." Michael quickly checked which way was north using the Network and then pulled at Dante by the arm.
"Let's go! They're here, already!"

"What? Who's 'they'?" The panic hadn't quite reached him. Then, after a pause, "You're being chased?" Shiiiiiiiiit. I should've just dripped cyanide into her drink...This is such a hassle.

Jeanne watched Michael with concern. He began to act strangely, and when he left without answering her question, she was pretty sure that something was wrong. But she was no psychologist and wouldn't have known where to start figuring out the problem. Instead, she glanced around at the others and saw Lev's expression.

He was staring directly at Fee, a feral hunger in his eyes for a moment. Alarmed, Jeanne turned to Fee and placed her hand on the psychic's shoulder in a protective manner. She was beginning to regret healing the man already.

Then the others began to talk. While Jeanne didn't quite eavesdrop, she caught the gist of their conversation; they were planning to leave and go to an armory. Fee's entry into the conversation meant that Jeanne felt comfortable joining as well.

"I'm not comfortable with stealing from this armory," she said, a statement that would be a surprise to be none. Jeanne wasn't sure she felt comfortable saying that if the Wrath Swords were out there, she felt duty-bound to retrieve them for Saint Acacias. Perhaps she could go out looking if the others weren't receptive to the concept of 'not stealing from the armory'.

Pretty much done with her mead, she stood up at Fee's suggestion and waited for the others to be ready.

They ran north, Michael and Dante, towards the armory by rooftop. Corinth wasn't exactly constructed to be a fortress, but they at least had some guards on the rooftops, guards who didn't appreciate trespassers.
"Hey! What are you doing here-Wha!"
Michael pushed him to the side with an "Artificer's errand. Out of the way!" type of gesture. The guards weren't amused, but that didn't matter after the hooded people got on to the rooftops as well. They threw the gaurds off of the roof with telekinetic force and then extended their powers towards the pair.
Michael growled with the amount of concentration being split between running away and holding up a block to make sure that they weren't tossed around themselves.
"Help me out, Dante! If you can find a way to distract them while we get to the armory, we just might make it!" Michael would've done it himself if he wasn't afraid of losing his concentration.