Multiple Settings Life's A Game ⎨IC⎬

Esmael sat back on his heels. Quillspire's conservatory had always felt the most like home to him. The hundreds of different plants emanated a symphony of aroma, never competing for dominance but instead blending to a heady perfection. The natural light seeped into the space, uninhibited by the glass roof, and warmed the soil beneath him. It was his safe space, and it just so happened that the Lab for this week's class required him to spend hours here. Not that he minded. Though he was immensely grateful that this assignment didn't require a partner. He didn't quite know how to act around Kyra anymore. His eyes lifted from the dirt mound he'd been absently patting, as if pulled instinctively to the woman weeding perennials three rows away. Even from this distance, bathed in golden midday hues and covered in dirt, he thought she was stunning. An air bubble trapped itself in his throat—a weight against his jugular. Their break up hadn't affected her in the slightest, and yet here he was a woeful mess pining more for the memories than for the person associated with them. A sigh released the tension in his throat and he forced his attention away, back to the seedlings he had just planted. Sliding the trowel back into his organizer tool pouch, Esmael reached for his shears when a blue holoscreen flickered before his eyes. It dinged like a disembodied prompt on a computer screen.

His lips folded into a thin line and his brows knitted together. An array of cards as tall as him encircled him in a narrow ring. Each card was painted with handcrafted holographical care—a shield behind two crossed swords, a bow and arrow set behind a leaf blown sky, and some type of scepter with symbols engraved on it. He turned to look at the other cards behind him and they began to move, revolving around him at a rate slow enough to see each card in detail but fast enough to still see the next one. The selection seemed endless. And it shifted, apparently never showing him the same card twice. Then he noticed that the number began to move. Was it counting down to something? What the hell did any of this mean?
"Es, are you seeing this!?" He flinched at the familiarity in which Kyra addressed him, hated himself for feeling any type of way about it, and nodded slowly before realizing that if she was seeing what he was then she probably couldn't see him either. "Yeah." He let the silence hang after the word, his mind reeling at the cards before him. She said something more, but he wasn't listening. He reached out to touch a card just as it was snapped away. Replaced. Moving again.

His hand froze in mid-air. If everyone was seeing this then was it safe to assume everyone was picking from the same selection pool? How wide-spread was this? Did he miss an important student government announcement about some technology the IT department was testing? He could feel the sweat pooling at his temple. What would happen if he didn't pick anything? Would the twins pick something? Lucia would in a heartbeat, he knew she never erred on the side of caution. But was caution the right move here anyways?
The question was about survival. If he wanted to live, then he should pick a card. As illogical as it seemed...
He had to pick.
The selection spun again and his eye caught something familiar, something that evoked that feeling of home and the irrefutable certainty of science. Urgently, he thrust his hand out as if he could hold onto an intangible thing.
"Alchemist?" Esmael mumbled, blinking rapidly as the rest of the conservatory suddenly came back into focus. "Good Luck?" He frowned, staring at his gloved hands as if they were some alien appendage. He didn't feel any different. Was that some type of weird prank? He turned to look for Kyra when the rustle of leaves alerted him to movement on his left.

A pair of yellow eyes peered at him from between the ferns. He lifted himself into a crouched position almost at the same moment a reptilian mouth snapped in his direction. Rows of sharp teeth centimeters from his face. Esmael threw himself backward, struggling to regain his balance as the creature sped forward. He reached for the nearest object and threw it. Ceramic shards flew through the air, and the creature stuttered a step, but shook the hit off much too quickly for Esmael's comfort. Still, it was enough for him to get moving. He grabbed his bag as he passed it. Someone screamed. Followed by another, until the chorus drowned out the birds. He needed to find his sisters. And, "Kyra!?"

A hot pain flared up his leg. The creature hissed behind him. He thought for a moment that it might have said something guttural and alien, but the observation was overshadowed by the glint of a knife swinging towards him. Esmael leapt backward, his heart damn near stopping in his chest as the creature made eye contact with him. It sailed past him through the air and tumbled to the ground rolling and bouncing before whacking into another reptilian beast. There were more?

Esmael forced himself to move again. If there were more then he couldn't stand around and do nothing. He needed a weapon. Another growl erupted from his right but this time Esmael couldn't avoid the knife that skated across his chest. Thanks to adrenaline he didn't feel the worst of it, but he could tell from the damp stickiness on his shirt that the wound needed attention. He stumbled against a shelf, blindly grasping at another pot. It cracked against the monster's shoulder and shattered on the ground, but didn't deter it. Esmael pulled his sheers from his belt and threw them as hard as he could. He watched the blades whirl in the air before finding their target—the heart of a yellow eye. The creature roared in agony, clutching at the tool protruding from its skull. Esmael took advantage of the opening, limping as fast as he could towards the exit.

It wasn't any less chaotic outside the conservatory. Students and faculty ran every which way in a state of panic, some of them were being attacked but Esmael couldn't tell by what. He didn't have the time to pay attention anyway. He needed to get back to his dorm. He needed to find his sisters. He needed medical attention. And—
He stumbled abruptly as the realization hit him that he left his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—behind. Should he go back?
More screams sounded behind him and Esmael forced himself to move again. He wasn't good to anyone dead and staying in the conservatory with those things was a death sentence. He had to hope that she could handle herself.

The twin brick dormitory buildings were a welcome sight, but only for a moment. A window above him shattered. He barely had time to look up before a body blurred past him and hit the ground with a sickening dull crunch. Limbs splayed at unnatural angles, it took Esmael a moment to register the body as human—as a fellow student, one who lived only a few doors down from him. His stomach inverted. The contents of his lunch spilled into the grass. He wiped absently at the corners of his mouth. Shock kept him from lingering too long and he found himself moving from only the instinctual urge to get to safety.

None of this should be possible. He limped around to the front of the building. Small green critters with rudimentary weapons overran the grounds. They swarmed individual students, pulling at hair and slashing at limbs until their prey fell to the ground. He couldn't see what happened then, but he knew from the screams that he didn't want to. There were so many of those critters that he couldn't count them. Esmael barely managed to make it to the entrance when the door swung open. A small green creature splattered with blood grinned at him maniacally. Esmael didn't have time to react before the small beast slammed into him with enough force to tip him over. The air flew from his lungs. His chest seared red hot. It took all his strength to keep the little monster from ripping into his throat. He couldn't get a hand free to properly defend himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, "H-Help!"

Struggling at the front door was preferable to being inside the building. At least he realized that as soon as the green little creature went flying off him. Dazed and confused he sat with his mouth half ajar and his glasses askew. Maybe this really was a mass hallucination? Did they really just summon some type of animal control lasso? The Goblin's body twitched at the base of the tree, but it didn't get up. Was it...dead?

Esmael adjusted his glasses while glancing between the person to the rope and back. Seriously, where did she get that?

With her help he got to his feet with a wince, "Thanks..." Casting one last wary glance at the prone monster, Esmael turned to face the dormitory entrance again when someone came barreling out. "Run!" The shout pulled his attention to the woman sprinting their way. He could just barely see the creature chasing her, it looked the same as the one that had pounced on him. And, since it was the kind of day where nothing went right, there were three more behind that one. With his leg the way it was, there was no way that he was going to outrun four of them.

Three of the tiny green guys charged before Esmael had time to react. The one closest to him though never made it within swiping distance. A blade pierced through its chest and it flopped to the ground moments later. Just like the one that had hit the tree, it twitched and spasamed before growing completely still.

"Mierda," he hissed through a clenched jaw as he hobbled a step back in shock. Before he could get his thanks out the new addition to this rag-tag team spoke, "Now what?"
"Move!" on impulse he grabbed her arm and yanked, moving her just enough to avoid the stone that went whizzing past her ear. A lil green dude at the rear screeched in irritation. Esmael watched it shake its sling-shot at them as if to say 'I'll get you next time!'

The third creature was still on them. There must be some way he could protect himself. Esmael fumbled with the hand trowel hanging from his belt. He could do this; he readied himself to attack; he could be useful somehow--


He didn't have time to overthink. He certainly didn't have time to question what he was infusing the trowel with. "Yes! Yes! Hurry!" The trowel seemed to glow in his hands, blinding and bright and it seared white-hot in his hands. "Ow, Ugh, Ouch, Fuck!!"
He dropped the trowel. The little green guy grinned at him! Esmael frowned. What was with the attitude on these beasts they're like--"Goblins!??"
It raised its dagger at him and screeched.

He yelped, pivoted and fumbled for his trowel before gearing up to shoot off in a sprint like a track star, but the moment his foot hit the pavement pain shot up his leg and cradled in his calf. The charlie-horse was so deblitating that he lost all strength in his leg. He fell, momentum carrying him into a roll. Thankfully, someone stopped him from rolling further.
"Esmael?" A curtain of blond hair shielded him from the sky, "I thought that was you."
"Oh. Hi, Mark."
Mark offered his hand to help him to his feet. Esmael took it, greatfully. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak a stone pebble whacked him in the temple. Esmael was falling before he even realized he'd been hit. His face kissed the pavement with an auditory slap! Somewhere, a Goblin screeched in victory and the rest faded to black.

Mark scooped up the trowel falling from Esmael's hands before it hit the ground. Swinging, he plunged the blade directly into the Goblin's skull.
"Eugh." With a grunt he shook the corpse off the end of the trowel. It was only then that he noticed the creature's skull was smoking as if the soft tissues had been burnt. Was the trowel magic? "That's interesting..." He wiggled the trowel into his pocket carefully.

"This guy," Mark sighed, stooping back down to haul Esmael over his shoulder. Which didn't work. He tried to pick him up again, but this time all he could manage was an arm slung over his shoulder--dragging Esmael's legs behind them. It was slow and hard work, but at least he wasn't leaving someone to die for his own benefit. He didn't think Nara would've approved of that.

Mark started off in the direction of the GH building. "Come on! I know a short-cut!" He urged, hoping that the ladies would watch their six.

The closer they got to the other dormitory building, the more it became aparent that the little green goblins weren't the only things they needed to worry about. "Are you all seeing this? Are those...zombies?" Mark asked, unsure if the shambling figures aimlessly patroling the front of the GH building were real or not.
Mark stopped by a tree, unable to go any further. "I have to set him down," Mark huffed, gasping for air as he let Esmael's body slip to the ground.

Droplets of water fell across his skin, soft and steady and gently warm. The sensation brought him back to playing in his Abuelita's garden during the Spring and Summer, or whenever his parents had enough money to leave them on the island for a few months. Yet, the smell of wet earth and the chipper of birds was missing. He pulled in a long breath and held it, thinking that he'd fallen asleep outside again, but the only aromas he caught were sour, rotten even, and metallic in an odd way.

"Ugh," Esmael grunted as he sat up further on the couch someone had placed him on. "What happened? Where are we?"
"GH's rec center." Mark replied, "Here you dropped this." As soon as Esmael took the trowel, Mark drifted further from the couch and towards a woman sitting in an opposite chair. He leaned on the back of her chair, smiling at her fondly as he spoke, "My Special Lady bought us enough time to catch our breath. She patched you up too." Mark turned his attention back to Esmael, "By the way, you should really pay more attention to your surroundings. It's dangerous to keep your head in the clouds....Oh. Right, you haven't met Nara, have you?"

Esmael managed a smile and a wave, caught off guard by the sudden introduction. He shifted in his seat. "Hey, thank you--"

Mark cut him off as if eager to pull his attention elsewhere, "Oh, and this is Ashley." He gestured to a brunette by one of the tables. Mark paused a moment before gesturing to another dark-haired woman behind Ashley, "And Erin, right?"

Esmael waved sheepishly again. He mumbled something under his breath that he himself couldn't even hear, but thankfully Mark glazed past it, "Ladies, this is Esmael. I'm, of course, Mark. And now that we've all made introductions, why don't we figure out where to go from here?" Mark grinned, but it was impossible to tell if it was genuine or not.

Esmael stood with a sigh. He was grateful to be alive, but he was also so anxious that he couldn't keep still. Were his sisters okay? Where could they be right now? "We need to get to the student union. Campus security is that way too."

Mark nodded, "I agree. That short cut I mentioned earlier will take us right there. If we can leave out the north-west exit, we can cut through the parking lot, go between JM and WA, and hightail it across the quad."

"Sure, whatever keeps us alive." Confident that they had a plan, Esmael ventured toward the door. "We'll have to pass the kitchen on the way and I want to see if I can find--"
Before he could finish, an arm swiped through the partially open door. Esmael yelped, swinging the trowel instinctively. He watched in amazement as it cut through the limb like butter. The flesh around the shoulder joint sizzled. Undeterred, the zombie staggered forward and Esmael had no choice but to swing again. The trowel cut into its neck, head lopping to the side--attached but barely. It grabbed at him, still trying to bite despite a half severed spine. Screaming, Esmael pulled back and swung again. Now without a head, the zombie's body hit the floor with a thud. Esmael kicked the head away with an audible shudder.

That wasn't so bad?

You have obtained 100 XP

Fighting to regain his breath, Esmael took a few steps further down the hallway. Just as he reached the T-intersection, he turned to look over his shoulder. Not much of a leader, and now lacking the bravado influenced by an adrenaline surge, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He certainly didn't want to go too far if no one else followed him out...