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<span class="mu-i">The Packleader, the Slicerrat, shakes his head. Masks. Always the heroic times, aren't they? Too many glory seeking errant-questers in this line of work. He should have stuck with where he had a good thing going, Legion deep recon wasn't exactly the worst job in the world if you liked mud and blood and other people's insides. And the food was nice and the uniform fit. He shakes his head. He draws his knife. Somehow, the simple gesture is infused with menace. And then instead of attacking, striking, instead of grabbing Waxworms soft vulnerable throat and bringing steel home to roost, he snaps his fingers and barks a command and all the Slicerats previously distracted and occupied by the words of the story spinner mumble and groan and complain and roll their shoulders and square off, joining the fray.
Oh.
Waxworm backpedals as the first attack comes in, dodges it, and clears space between himself and the sudden seven-on-one fight and then, out the corner of his eyes, he spots a mischief of pyre crows. It is said they warm you in winter, if you ask nice. It is said they make their nest from spun sunlight and stray sparks. It is said when the Theurgic Council have a vast and world-spanning decision to make, they let a Pyre Crow loose in their high chambers and if it settles there, the decision is weighty enough on the spirit of our fair city that they should debate it then. And if the Pyre Crow unruly flits away, they should table the motion for later.
Of course, that's all rumor now. The Theurgic Council and their ways was kicked from the city on a wave of accusations that they sought to burn us all, and people don't feed the Pyre Crows as many scraps as they used to. Maybe they resent that. Crows have long memories. The streets might belong to the rats, of the scurrying and the human kind, but the rooftops are still the kingdom of crows.
Waxworm thinks about all this as he hurls his bokken at the Pyre Crow, for no other particular reason than it would be sort of interesting. Spur of the moment impulse. They happen sometimes.
The Pyre Crow and its seven beady looking friends do not seem so amused or apt to entertain fancies.
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Fourth Dusk gets accosted.
Lagomorpheus sniffs out the local terrain.
Mock squares off.
--
The terrain shifts a little, patrols opening, things cutting in and out.
Scrap if you like, and if you're quite done running interception, you can deploy from a listed point and take a turn. Although the price of arriving a little later after Intercepting is you might be a little off-balance or out of breath.
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>Mask Phase!
>Deployed Masks can act
>Interceptors can Intercept and deploy
>Clever Types can attempt to play their tricks now, as the first fight of the night is gearing off, or hold it for later, building up to something bigger.
<span class="mu-s">Clever Tricks</span> pick a point.
Act from there.
Roll a trick.
Minor penalties the closer you are to current deployments (you took the long way around, see)</span>
