Spacer Night of the Weird Shit 7
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    The second phone call was to Apollyon. As in, leader of the bloody Host, Apollyon. Interesting contacts our new friend has, even if one doesn't buy the press that they're actual honest-to-God angels.
    We didn't actually get to meet him, or it, just heard Chandler's side of the conversation. He found Lucky for us (through traces left on her phone, apparently), and transported us to where she was being kept. The tunnels beneath the city must be far more extensive than we thought, for it was another vaulted chamber. Lucky was bound in a pentagram in the center of the room; beyond her stood a makeshift altar, at which St. John continued her preparations for sacrificing our teammate. Her cohorts assisted as necessary while two daemons hulked in the background.
    After a hasty planning session, Phoenix hurled himself into the room with a wild yell, immediately drawing all attention. I kept myself in the background, a little way up the corridor leading to the chamber. An older gentleman—Vandemar—took to his heels immediately while Talon engaged Blaise; he spent most of his time dodging, but didn't seem at all daunted. I broke one of Lucky's bonds and moved her gloves to where she could reach them, after which she was able to take care of herself; she went after Gretchen and found herself facing the daemons, destroyed one of them. I helped her out with Gretchen to the extent that I could, having a hard time getting through to the daemonmage, until space blinked and a skinny youth in punk dress appeared next to me and tried to knife me. I think I overreacted a little; the bones in his arm made a nasty crunching noise. He screamed and dropped the knife.
    St. John appeared to reverse time in his location, mending the arm I had just broken, and then she opened up a bag. Out flew a raven. Which became two, which became four, which became eight, and within a remarkably short period of time the entire room was solid with them, a flapping, pecking, clawing mess that left all of us rather badly scratched and bruised before they started to disappear again, apparently of their own accord, leaving the room empty but for a single bird.
    Like I said, frustrating. I'm going to take a bath, then curl up on my bed and watch a movie. It's started snowing. Pretty.

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© 1999 Rebecca J. Stevenson