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Shiloh      With the mists drifting closer to Roswell with every passing day, a helpless frustration plagues much of the settlements and towns between Dunwich and Roswell. People still had no idea of the problems they were dealing with and efforts to find out more have fallen short of their estimations. On one stormy night in Roswell, a young woman rushed into Roswell hysterical and wounded. Her clothes had been ripped to shreds and people that witnessed her there could swear that her wounds were like nothing that they had ever seen. None of them had broken the skin and yet angry red lines that still carried the wisps of the horrifying mists themselves were raked across her flesh as if a Hellclaw itself had tried to drag her off and could not keep its grip. Her hair had grown white at its scalp near the edges and her eyes dull and bloodshot.

     She begged anyone she found to help her find her brother, that they were traveling towards Tinnie when they heard this beautiful music. Her brother was the one that insisted on trying to find it, and would refuse to turn back even as it led them into the thickest parts of the mist. She says that she can't remember much of what happened, only that she could have sworn that she was walking on clouds before something dragged her back down to the Earth below. It had sickly grey flesh and features twisted beyong recognition, large enough that its rotten maw could swallow her own. A scream and a kick at its arms was what freed her and she went running east the moment that she felt her feet touch the ground. The townsfolk had no idea what to do and told the woman to just stay put and rest, they would figure something out. The next morning, however, she was gone from the bed that she was last left in with no sign of where she may have fled. This woman would not be the last report of it, and the missing reports for travelers were starting to pile up, the few survivors confirming that they were led away by the song of their wildest imaginations.

     Today, it was finally decided that if it was music that was playing, there had to be a source. It was decided that a team would be sent out to post up radio transmitters to the west, in hopes that they would help Roswell's radio tower pick them up or at least overwhelm these dangerous melodies with their own station. The team had already been given a demonstration on how it is to be done when the first transmitter was set up on the western side of Roswell in the relative safety of town. Now the sky above is just starting to lose that luster that it gets during the early day as it creeps closer to the darker evening hours. The bright and vivid shades of blue are dull, and soft tones of orange have started to touch the horizons from how the sun is starting to wane heavily. Though there is nothing much out there before them on the open stretch of highway west of Roswell that the team is traveling on, there are still the sounds that bubble out from the wilderness to tease tense senses. Every snapping bramble or rolling rock enough to make the skittish wonder whether something is looming in closer to them to drag them off in an instant.

     Shiloh would be walking on foot with the others with a large paper map stretched out in front of her face as she plots out the surroundings and their course. "So it's looking like there are three more points that they'd like the receivers stationed at...they wanted one over near the outskirts of Picacho, one near Tinnie, and another near Lincoln. Said that should be far enough out and any closer, we might end up getting more than we bargained for. Stick close and speak up if you start to hear anything." All of the equipment and supplies that they will be needing to use is piled up carefully on a heavy wheelbarrow to make its transport more manageable.
Elsie Surelda is here! The Sulty Voice of Lonestar, with her relatively quiet speaking voice, is here doing what she does ... well, what she does: radio work. She has her short-wave Lonestar radio out as they move along the route, listening intently as they go. She wears her grey poncho-cloak with the cowl neckline and the loose hood, which is pulled up. Underneath, the hem of her high-low blue dress can be seen, and boots besides. Her hair is pulled up in a criss-crossing crown of braids. Her HK hangs over her shoulder, and she wears a backpack.

As they walk, the addict keeps her ear pressed to the radio, moving the dial ever so slightly as she tries to find the source of the music. "Nothing yet," she tells Shiloh, quietly.
Tibbie Tibbie has found herself yet again near the terrifying mists, and as a young optimistic woman, she's chosen to help her community and face her fears once again. She's staying close to the wheelbarrow and tries to keep a good mood with some humming.
Devlin     Stretching his hand wide, Devlin eventually allows it to relax, curling around the grip of his laser pistol, not letting it too far from his grasp. As with many exploration teams, there was work found in being a technician as well as work for being a guard, Devlin settled for the later. Looking around, the man only partially appeared to listen to the chatter among the others gathered, save for Shiloh, the original contractor for the assignment who then spread the information to the others gathered.

    "What will we need to do at any of these receivers, simply cut the signal source or are we trying to repurpose them?" Looking off to the side as he asked, Devlin easily noticed the supply laden wheelbarrow which didn't reassure him very much, though he didn't make an offer to help lighten the load. "Also, are we hunting those down that get lost today or are we leaving them for the mists to consume whole?" is asked with a softening tone, staying somewhat curious for Shiloh's answer, unsure if she was given special direction for either response.
Ashur Ashur's march is the march of the Legion -- with every stomp of plated heel the man's body echoes like a hundred, an avalanche in motion that lurches ever-forward with an unstoppable momentum. His boots break prints upon the softer ground; his cloak drags, and brushes the sand and dirt over them, smoothing his passage.

Concealed head to toe in that thick shell of riveted iron, the salvaged power armor's frame held together by a series of latches at certain joints, he stands out from the crowd. Louder, more ostentatious, ever martial; the wind teases through the feathered plume of his helmet and rustles the leather thongs of his scarlet skirt.

Why is he here? Well, while few people know this, he's actually a prodigy when it comes to dealing with all things electronic or mechanical. After all, everything can use a little percussive maintenance.

He looms nearest Surelda, her human-ish aegis, though a step toward Shiloh precedes an examination of her map. "And what do these receives.. do?"
Lua      There was a newcomer in El Dorado and he looked very much like like a pretty boy. He kept his helmet on and his armor, a cloak similar to Ashur's but this fit the boy and was dusty from the wasteland. It had been a golden color at some point. He had introduced himself as Marcus and while he was quiet and somewhat odd, he carried himself well enough. He kept an eye on Ashur, though, not a dark look, but he was certainly curious about the giant.
     As Shiloh led the way, Marcus kept one hand on his sword and the rest of his attention around him, watching for signs of attack or witchcraft. The Fist of Poseidon could be a tricky thing if stories were true. And Marcus had listened to many stories.
     Now he was listening to Ashur's question and waited for Shiloh's answer. Marcus did not know much about technology so he would simply offer his fist or sword in service to the mission.
Qwillis     Qwillis, for his part, was here to help with the tech. He's probably the one actually pushing the wheel barrow even. He'd listen to the other people talk, that metal step counterpoint to booted step as he'd head for the destination. He knew how to fix this.. It was just a matter of getting to the right spot. Q would flash a smile towards Shiloh as she'd give information and wait as they come ever closer to that first spot to build the rig needed to end this threat.
Iris Lark Near the back of the group walks Iris Lark, slightly distracted by her Pip-Boy as she reads up on something. Her pistol is held loosely in her other hand and close to her heels walks a large shaggy wolf, its tail wagging back and forth slowly. Satisfied for the moment, she taps on her Pip to dismiss whatever was on the screen and she puts her attention to her surroundings, checking to see if anything looks different from her last trip here. The questions had already been asked, so she stood by quietly to hear the answers.
Shiloh      Barely glancing away from her map to look over at Devlin from over her shoulder upon his question, "Just trying to strengthen Roswell's radio signals. That way these new occurances can be monitored and tracked or just...drowned out. We'll have to see." The question of the survivors has her lips drifting down to a somber frown, "The missing or survivors weren't mentioned in the details. If we happen to see some, then we can bring them back safely. From what I've heard the survival rate is low, one for every twenty that go missing..."

    t While she speaks, she slows her steps and leans in to squint at the map in closer inspection, "Alright, now we need to veer off of the path here..southwest." Shiloh tells the others after she double-checks to make sure that she got the scaling of the map correct. She points off of the road in the direction they need to go before heading off that way, "They said that about three hundred yards off of the path should be fine. If we place these accurately enough, then the signals nearby can strengthen each other on the way back to Roswell.." She grins over at Surelda and admits to her, "Glad you brought that. They're going to be listening for it over at Lonestar too. If we can't find the source on this expedition, we can at least try to help their local station overwhelm it with these boosters. It might help keep the travelers from overhearing it...haven't really heard of something like this before though. Not since some old bedtime stories. Not much fact to go off with them..."

     Ashur's question about the receivers is considered and Shiloh tries to explain, "Usually they come out from the towers in town, but you know, sometimes you just walk out of range and everything gets all staticky? These receivers uh...give the signals a pitstop of sorts, a place they can rest and go even farther than they usually do. If something is strange out this way, we'll all have an easier time seeing just where it goes strange. Without these...the wastes out here become a bit of a deadzone..." Maybe not the most technical information, but she does figure that the simplicity might be appreciated by the others in the group.

     Now that they are off of the road, the sounds are beginning to bug Shiloh more. The snaps and rustling of the brush in the distance make her freeze midstep and she does not continue on until she's certain that nothing is about to happen. There was a lot of pressure riding her shoulders, she did not expect to be placed in charge of navigating this expedition when she offered to help with the installations. She had never even led a scavenging expedition before, much less guide some of her friends and neighbors out to the mists that seem to be devouring anything it can get its cold, clammy hands on.
Elsie Surelda grins to Shiloh, in a comfortable way that two people who seem at least somewhat aquainted might do. "Of course. It's what I do." Granted, she's only //done// radios for all of three weeks at this point. But that's something!

They trek on, Surelda hanging a bit back from Shiloh as there's still nothing to report. It frees the woman up to have more manueverability and to field queries from other happy little campers in this trek to Oz. Her own feet kick up dust, which clings to the hem of her skirt and her cloak. That'll have to be cleaned again, once all is said and done.

Keeping the radio to her ear, Surelda will occasionally glance over at the man shadowing her; so large that he could likely fit five of her into the outline of his actual shadow. She, it seems, is making an effort to make sure she remains close to him as much as he remains close to her. Otherwise, her focus is on the task at hand: listening.
Tibbie     Listening in on the team's plans, questions, and noting the amount of prep they'd done to help out the suffering settlements has her spirits up as she talks up the team,

"We are a right damn good team for this job, we got the techies, the guns, and plenty of stuff here to git it all done for these poor wanderin' folks!" Tibbie says in her usual confident southerner drawl while she pats the trusty wheelbarrow, kicking up small tufts of dust as she skips alongside it and beaming smiles to her fellow teammates.
Devlin     "Just relax," is said as Devlin lifts his chin some, making sure that his voice carried over towards Shiloh's direction. "You have several armed guards here, as ya said, we're not going into the mists if we can help it, anything out here should be normal." As he spoke however, the man began to look not at their guide but towards Qwillis, his eyes questioning if he was actually telling the truth or giving false reassurances.

    Increasing his pace every so often with the paused strides of their guide, Devlin settles once he stays a few feet off to her side, acting as a wall between Shiloh and the sounds that haunted her from the brush. Drawing out his laser pistol and primes it, causing the weapon to hum with a soft but steady tone while exposing it's side profile to the young woman.

    Devlin keeps the laser pistol exposed for her, letting her see form of active countermeasure before speaking with a mild smile on his lips, "I'll use this if anything is spotted at a distance. The metal giant on the other side will step on them if they are close to him. Let the security do our job, which is letting you do your job safely. So as I said, just relax, you're safe.. ish."
Ashur Ashur is quiet for a moment. What nuances of thought and wit must surely lurk behind the reflective, bulletproof glass of his eyes; if his face could be seen, what a thinker's face it would be, brow furrowed and eyes downcast! Yes, he's a clever man, the Legionnaire.

"Radio things," he thunders, and taps chin to chest. "Good."

The cool air of the evening and the setting of the sun conspire to make the mundane grotesque; gaze upon the bull's vast shadow, cast upon chill and misted ground, looming beyond all human size; how it twists, and swells, and devours what's near it, and how from its head protrudes a great horn. He is a beast, that metal man, and a beast he shall be.

He pats Shiloh's head. A heavy gesture, once, twice, and a little muss. At least he uses his left hand, the one without the power fist. "Steel yourself, little Shiloh; remember what I told you should we chance upon danger. Be good."

He steps off to the side, crushing branches and grasses beneath him. Now and then, he turns head to stare at this Marcus, an unknown newcomer -- Ashur can swear the guy's been giving him long, lingering looks on and off, and it makes him bristle.
Lua      Marcus for his part kept quiet. Ashur's action of mussing Shiloh's hair and the way he referred to her made Marcus blink but move a bit closer to the girl, almost protectively. Not against Ashur or anyone else in the group but to lower the distance he would have to travel if he's called upon to act. Devlin's comments that they were not entering the mists unless they needed to only confirmed to Marcus that the stories about the mists might be true. Marcus nodded toward Shiloh and spoke in a voice that fit his pretty boy appearance. "If it comes to it, I will protect her."
Iris Lark Iris isn't a radio operator, and she's not technically security, but she will take the time to check that she has chems and medic supplies ready in case someone gets hurt. As the sun sets and the shadows of the world grow larger, she pulls her pistol closer to her, for comfort as much as readiness. She keeps her eyes on the people in the group, making sure nobody is suddenly entranced by mist or music as one hand gently scritches at the wolf sitting next to her.
Shiloh      Shiloh offers Devlin a smile when he tries to reassure her and she nods her head at him. "Thanks, you're right. Things are going to be fine with you guys here." Despite the stop and go pacing, they soon arrive where there is a red circle outlined on the map, and after looking around to see the local land marks of note Shiloh can confirm that they are indeed in the right place. "Okay, Surelda, there?" She gestures vaguely to Qwillis with a warm smile, "You're with me in getting the equipment set up and covered properly. Can't have some raiders dismantling it and making our work for nothing, or give some of the critters of the parts a reason to go snooping around it. We might need some help moving it into position so if one of you guys feel strong enough, feel free to help us move it, while the rest of you just stay alert and keep watch on things, that way nothing can...surprise us hopefully."

     She heads over to the wheelbarrows to pick up the first bulky transmitter out and carry it out to the spot. It has a dull rusted-iron metal casing and visible tubes on its sides, though most of the circuits and wires are hidden within. A single towering antennae stretches out over head to strengthen and carry the signals out that it needs to.

     "Okay, we just need to connect it to the internal power supply now, they wanted them kept disconnected until the installment...didn't want it getting drained on the way out here, these things are gonna need to last a while.." Shiloh murmers to Surelda, getting out a screwdriver so that she can open the transmitter up. "While we're doing that, we're just supposed to make sure the wiring and connections are in order and hook it up to this tester...make sure everything is coming through at the strengths we need. After that, we disconnect it and close it up, and work on the camouflage. Any questions?"
Elsie Surelda nods, sliding the portable radio into the pocket of her cloak for now. She can still hear it, albiet muffled, from that position. "Sure," she tells Shiloh with a little smile of encouragement, reaching up to readjust the woman's hair just so and put it back in to place. Then it's off to the wheelbarrow, where she begins to sort through the smaller, more technical pieces. She's had some training with fixing radios in her new role as Radio Girl, but it's all so very ... well, new.

"So this is .... the tuning coil. And this is the cover ...." she mutters softly to herself. She begins to fill her arms with different segments, her cheeks turning slightly pink at the strain. Once she's taken what she considers to be her maximum, safe load, she turns to move where Shiloh pointed, the end of the HK swinging behind her while it dangles from the strap around her shoulder.
Tibbie     Tibbie doesn't look of much help during the first setting up of the complicated looking machinery, but none the less she keeps her brown eyes wide open and head revolving the area around them, she's working with what she's got and that's a good pair of eyes and a loudmouth to alarm the team of any baddies coming their way.
Devlin     "I'll go make sure the area's secure, raise your voice once the pair of you are done with the setup and I'll return." Stepping away from Shiloh and many of the group's members, Devlin begins to make a scouting tour around where the transmitter was being worked on. Of those gathered, he doesn't call out to any one of them to assist him as a paired partner, "Of all times to be down backup.." is muttered under his breath.

    Using his legs more so than his upper body, Devlin begins to force down the more decrepit sections of brush and high weeds while keeping his pistol trained low for anything that might be spooked out to flee or strike at him due to the disruption. With each new spot cleared, he would fall back towards the group only to leave again at a different angle, seemingly at random points while working out a mental grid.
Ashur With nary a word of fuss or instruction, Ashur collects a few of the items Surelda had burdened herself with and lumbers whichever way she's headed. He is her shadow, or perhaps her ghost, white-wrapped as he is; a great, bloodstained spectre haunting her steps. When her possessions are in place, the brute turns and strides out once more, back toward the wheelbarrows carrying this quest's stock.

"Keep vigil," he tells Tibbie in passing, "and make noise if you see anything."

He takes to manual labor like a natural -- all who spend time with him know of his Herculean strength and endurance, and so regardless of what bit of equipment he is moving or settling he takes to it with the same lead-footed deliberateness.

It's a sin to avoid hard work, after all. A man's hands ought to be rough.

"Admirer," he calls out to Marcus, catching the effeminate man's eyes once more. "We've a moment's rest now as they work their machines. Why do you stare at me?"
Lua      Marcus turned, when called to, having nothing to do that would aid the implementation of the machines. He peered at Ashur for a long moment before ducking his head slightly, a kind of apology for staring or making him feel uncomfortable. The boy would keep a distance from Ashur but would not shy from him. "I watched you fight the mech those weeks ago. I have yet had a chance to speak with you. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable, Legionnaire." Marcus would continue watching Ashur a bit then turned to look around, once again looking for people or things that might sneak up on them. "The field is not the time for such a conversation, but you remind me of a people from many years ago."
Iris Lark Iris moves up next to Tibbie, shooting her a tentative smile and a slight wave as she watches people set up radios and secure the perimeter. "Hey." She says softly, by way of greeting, turning to eye the horizon with Tibbie. The wolf moves with her, silent footed, his nose in the air as he tries to acclimate to the new scents and people. After a few moments, she offers a hand to Tibbie. "Iris Lark, I don't think we've met yet."
Shiloh      "Alright, sounds good." She tells Devlin, before she smiles at Ashur gratefully when he helps with carrying the equipment. She stops by him long enough to gently tap his elbow and tell him, "Thank you, Ashur. Really glad to have you out here with us today...know it's probably tough to find time away from your baby at home so it means a lot to have you out here." Shiloh walks back over to her work and sets the metal plate aside, carefully balancing the screws in a place that she won't forget them. Her head twists side to side, trying to get a better look at the wire insides.

     She listens to Surelda talk to herself and nods her head, to confirm her words, "Yes. And yes. Pretty sure a lot of these parts are Pre-war so just be careful in handling them." Thankfully most of the wires do seem to be following some color coating and have protection from the elements, but it's still a fairly tangled clumps of messy crammed into a small space. She quietly curses under her breath which trails off to a barely audible string of muttering and grumbling about things not being in order.

     "I understand having a personal system to go by, but damn, this is pushing towards down-right dangerous...least they could have done is stuck a note in here with helpful advice...Oh, careful by the way Surelda. Might get a bit of a zap once the power's connected if you brush against any of the exposed parts of the wire." After that helpful warning, she reaches down until she manages to find what she needs. "Alright, just need to double-check that it's turned off first..." She leans around the machine and asks Surelda or one of the others, "Can someone get a look and see what the switch is flipped to? It should be the zero, not the one."
Elsie Surelda blinks her big, black eyes once in surprise when Ashur moves, wordlessly, to collect her items. She doesn't argue or fight him, but rather tilts her arms forward to allow him to collect what he will carry, and then follows to where the setup has begun. For his troubles, the man earns a warm smile of gratitude. And then Surelda settles to her knees to get down to business with Shiloh beside her. "Wish I could show the guys at the Radio Shack this, they'd be so proud of me." She's an eager student, especially for one who can barely write. At Shiloh's command, the easy-going follower in Surelda obeys immediately, tilting her head upside down to peer at the dial down below. She humms, and reaches in with two slender fingers to turn it. "It's on zero," she announces, sitting up.

Marcus and Ashur get a curious glance, but then her focus is back to her work.
Tibbie Tibbie perks up at the introduction from Iris and glady accepting her hand, shaking it excitedly.
"Tibbie Gaines' the name! And I'm sure glad you and your big-dog could come with us Iris, I bet his sniffer comes in handy out here in the wilds n'sorts!" She says before making smoochy faces at the wolf beside her and chuckles softly. The woman's clearly distracted now as she tries to charm the creature instead of being on lookout.
Devlin     Unlike the antics of Tibbie and the likely now distracted canine, Devlin focused on the task at hand. After covering two points, his scouting took him to the four main directional points of the impromptu camp without much being noticed and this only frustrated the man. Looking down at his pistol, Devlin moves his hand low and close to his stomach, allowing his slung resting arm to access his right wrist. Adjusting the dials on his pipboy, he accesses a broadcasting profile and turned on the internal speakers to a low intensity before scanning the channels within broadcast range. "Lets just see if the signals are actually that weak, there's not much that should be weakening the signals, hardly noticing any tracks."
Ashur Ashur looks down at Marcus with an unreadable expression -- even if his face weren't obscured by the helmet, he isn't sure what to make of the youth. "The people you are thinking of," he explains, and tosses his cloak over a shoulder to reveal the curve of one of his white shoulderplates. A faint, mostly scratched-out tracing of a bull is visible. "are the Legion. Once, I stood among their numbers, before Caesar fell." His tone is polite enough through the metallic filter of the rebreather, voice broadcast in dispassionate note. "I do not mind. Watch, boy, and you might learn something; a man is made by blood. It'll put some whiskers on your face."

He assumes, by size and voice alone, that this Marcus is clean-shaven.

Their exchange at an end, the juggernaut strides forth once more, through mist and over rock, crushing all beneath his feet. He's at Shiloh and Surelda's side when his movement arrests, holding up his left hand to shine the flashlight of his Pip-Boy over their work. It is getting a little dark out, after all.

"When did you learn all this?" he asks of her, sounding rather proud.
Lua      Marcus listened to Ashur's words, though they Legion was not who the boy had had in mind. But he left it be. For the moment there was nothing else to do as the giant walked away. There was not much more for Marcus to do at that point except contiue keeping watch.
Iris Lark Iris grins back at Tibbie, a bit amused by her enthusiasm but shakes her hand and nods as she introduces herself. "He seems to like being outside more than in, but he is good company." The wolf gazes at Tibbie and her funny faces, his tail thumping once in acknowledgement before he walks off slightly towards the road again. Iris watches him go and doesn't call him back right away, she does turn to talk to Tibbie a bit more. "Do you work for Lonestar as well?"
Shiloh      "Good, good." As soon as the power-state is confirmed to Shiloh, she works on twisting certain wires to the power source so that they can be connected. "Just got to clamp them into place here...and there we go. Now to plug in our testing device and see what we're getting..." She stands up and dusts herself off before she wanders over to the wheelbarrow to fish around through it until she finds a device that can test the circuit strength and connectivity. When she walks back over, she kneels in front of the opening and finds where she can attach it. She jiggles the port around and nods to herself, "Okay, just need someone to flip that switch now and we can see if there's anything we need to fix in this beauty or if we can start to pack up now."

     Her eyes would be down on the testing device to keep track of the readings they receive and wait on the results. When the transmitter starts to hum to life, the needle on the reader lifts up and drifts to the other side to twitch in place there. "See that?" Shiloh asks Surelda, letting her get a better look at the tester. "That's a good sign, means everything is flowing strongly. Which leads us to believe the signal will be carried out without issue. We want it way up there. If it doesn't move or doesn't move much, that's when we gotta worry about what to do." She starts to unhook the tester carefully and works on screwing the back of the transmitter back into place.

     "Okay now everyone can help with this next part. We just need to dust it up and get the shrubs we packed on it so it blends into the landscape some more. Don't knock the antennae out of place though! It's already in a prime position." With that offered, she heads back over and digs through some dying grass and tumbleweeds in the barrel and sets to carefully positioning them on the machinery like a makeshift ghillie suit made just for it. In the midst of their work, a gust of window gently drifts by to brush and carress the shrubbery, causing some of the leaves to twitch and sway along with the breeze. A subtle whisper is carried on it, but just as soon as it has been uttered, it fades off before it can be listened to again. It seems worse to the people paying the least amount of attention, while most of the others are able to keep their wits despite it, Marcus and Surelda would both start to hear music closest to their hearts. It may be as simple as a favorite song, or something as complex as a Grandmother's lullaby on a cold winter's night, meant to comfort and lull one to sleep. It would make Shiloh pause in her work to wait on something more, and she would whisper to the others as she packs up, "We should be careful.."
Elsie The silver-haired woman is keenly interested in what Shiloh explains and points out, and she nods as she listens, eyes tracking along the examples. She's distracted, however, and almost startled when Ashur comes over, and there's just that slight ghost (haha, get it?) of pride in his voice. It makes her smile, and a slight pink touches her otherwise pale cheeks. "Oh, I don't know much yet," she explains to him, watching him while she talks. Pay no attention to the fact that she's still got her hand in the open panel, on the knob. "The radio teams have been teaching me a little during slow times in my shifts at the Radio Shack. It's pretty f-"

ZAP! As the power comes on, Surelda's fingers, pinching the knob, get a quick, hot zap. Enough that there's a sudden aroma of singed flesh in the air. She yelps and falls back on her rear, holding her hand close to her body for a second or two before she looks at it, blowing on her fingertips. "Frick," she mutters between blows. There's some burning on her index finger and thumb, but it's all very minor. Just embarrassing.

Slowly, though, she becomes distracted from the burn and looks around the area, brows drawn tight over her black eyes. "Do you hear that?" she asks, turning to look at Ashur.
Tibbie After a small pout from Tibbie as the wolf wanders off, she returns her gaze to Iris,
"Well I ain't a official Lonestar-er or nothing, but I did have a stint with em bout a year-off ago. Since things are doin a bit better in town, I figure I oughta pitch in what and when I cans." she replies to Iris while about to ask her something she is called upon by the boss Shiloh for help,
"We oughta lend our hands for the boss, c'mon ev'rybody!" She announces while trotting over to some tumbleweeds and kicking them hard towards the antennae's direction, though the bush only makes it halfway to it's destination. She casually shuffles the bush over now with her feet and picking out a good spot for it, making sure not to get too wild and ruin the girl's hard work setting the antenna up.
Devlin     Standing off a a ways from the camp, the perimeter of the group had been clear through the several searches so Devlin takes knee, sitting almost onto one of his heels while he tinkers with his pipboy. The breeze itself comes by, faintly brushing along his skin and shagging hair, but so melody draws him, possibly too lost in his current task.

    "Hmm.. I wonder if I can tune into Lone Star from out here, is it time for their sales with Surelda here?" Tilting his head slightly, his fingers were already on their task and scanning to known frequencies before slowly cranking through the unlisted ones, hunting for unset and rogue signals from broadcast towers along with shorter wave radio broadcasters.
Ashur That electrical snap comes as quick as Ashur's overprotective reflexes. He's taken to a knee and slung one massive arm around Surelda's back as she falls, a flex of strength to minimize the impact of her fall. "Are you alright?" He intones, gazing down at her red-marked fingertips. Their smell is too faint for him to detect through the filters of his helmet, but he can see the discoloring of her flesh. Grasping her wrist, he lifts her fingers, and touches them to the mouth of his helmet.

A symbolic gesture, absent all the warmth and tenderness of lips, all cool dry steel, but a gesture all the same.

"On your feet, now, that'a girl.. "

The wind, and the faint whispers of ethereal sounds forgotten, are a dim and missed chuff to the Legionnaire; too absorbed in more important matters, that nostalgic song finds no purchase in his heart. He looks down at her and rests his gauntleted hand atop her pretty, silver head. "There is nothing, my Surelda. You're on edge; the shock must have spooked you. Here, sit and calm yourself, deep breaths. I'll help with the shrubs."

Saying so, the bull turns and storms off. He stoops low, thrusts his fingers into the dry, cracked earth beneath a bush, and with a great growling huff rips it roots and all from the earth. The darker soil clots and sprinkles down his white hands, as he moves to place it and help hide their deed.

"Shiloh," he calls to her, waving a hand and beckoning her close. "You're doing well. What's the next step?"
Lua      Marcus turned, then, facing away from the radio equipment, a look in his eyes that spoke of some kind of pull. The boy walked to the edge of where the others were working and simply stared for a long time, listening to the music in his heart. The music of a long ago time in a festival atmosphere.... Surelda's question got a nod. "I do.. It was almost whispered and then Marcus turned to Ashur. "no, She's right. I hear the People's Song too." GrantedMarcus did not know that he was hearing something different than Surelda, but he would not let the girl go on thinking she was crazy if that was her train of thought. Marcus then turned back to stare toward where he thought he heard the song. "If there's someone out there that knows that song... They might need our help."
Iris Lark Iris follows Tibbie towards Shiloh, a snap of her fingers brings the wolf with her. She narrows her eyes when a few people start to talk about music, turning around quickly to scan the area they're in, trying to see anything that might be coming their way. She moves closer to Shiloh and the others, pushing her pistol into her belt to help with whatever she can.
Shiloh      "Oh, Surelda! Be careful! Are you okay there?" Shiloh tells Surelda after hearing the zap catch on her fingers and knock her back. She smiles apologetically and tells her, "Feeling okay? Don't worry, that tingling and ringing sensation should go away soon. Just glad it didn't end up causing a fuss for your ticker. Can make it stop dead cold and we'd need another good shock to try to get you going again." She taps her chest once or twice and tries to finish up the camouflaging process. Marcus' words have her glancing over at him and she frowns in thought to herself. "We need to finish our work first, if it gets any louder, we can try to scout to find them. But remember. The survivors were all lured away hearing things, it...might just be in our minds. Stay together with the group." Shiloh takes a step back to survey their work with a proud smile, "It's not much...I mean, I think I can still tell that this isn't really supposed to be out here." She does confesses as she brushes the traces of dirt and twigs from her hands, "But it should be enough to make it less of an eyesore out here. She looks up at Ashur and steps over to stand close to him too, unfurling the map to let him and the others see if they step over close too. "Thank you, we're making good time. Um the next step is the site over by Tinnie, then that only leaves the one out be Lincoln to finish before we return and see the fruits of our labor. Alright, let's head back over to the road and try to find it."

     She beckons the others and starts to walk back the way they came until they come across the highway once again. She starts west down it and lets her eyes scan over the map with a thoughtful frown. The points were fairly stretched out, so it would take some time before they reached the turn off to their next destrination, leaving some time for the others to talk amongst themselves if they would like to pass the time with something more than thoughtful silence. "I think it's just over this hill, we're getting closer to Tinnie now." Shiloh shares with the others after spending a few hours walking. The orange stretched across the sky is more prevalent and blends with rusty tones of red and dark tones of purple as the sun crests around the horizons. She casts a brief look up at the sky and frowns to herself in concern, "Good thing we're halfway done and getting more of it done...we're probably going to have to be walking back to Roswell in the dark." She looks over at the others and asks them, "Any of you guys have a flashlight besides Ashur? I'm not sure if they packed any in our supplies or not to be honest..." She glances over at the wheelbarrow with a worried frown but continues on down the road. At the top of the hill, they would all be able to see the mists of Dunwich in the distance, built high up against the darkening heavens above. Shiloh has to fight back an uncomfortable shiver and presses on until it's time for them to veer off of the road itself, "Another three hundred yards off the opposite side of the highway...should look a bit like a triangle by the time we get done if you draw lines between them."
Elsie Surelda finds her slide backwards softened greatly by the hard slab of rock that is Ashur's arm. She blows on her fingers a few more times before responding to his questions. "Yes-" she starts to say, but then he's drawing her fingers to the mouth of his helmet. She smiles, then.

"I'm fine, Papi," she promises him, and lets him help her up. She lets him pet her hair. All around, she just lets him.

"Really, I'm alright," she assures him, but the words are meant to be just that: an assurance. Not an argument. She does what he says, settling on a stump until it's time to move on. Then she moves with the rest of them.
Marcus gets a look and a small nod, but she doesn't elaborate on what he hears and what she hears.
Tibbie To pass the time walking, Tibbie's been sharing an odd story about her and a mysterious man named Dave, and how he nearly drown in a muddy puddle in Shantytown. The story was getting to the realm of the far-fetched and her enthusiasm seemed very invested in it when the team was nearing their new installation spot and Shiloh had interrupted it, letting the tale hang in the air unfinished.
"I aint got no lights boss, less ya count my beamin' bright heart that is!" She replies cheekily and laughs. Tibbie's not one to come prepared at all, unless it's in a kitchen.
Devlin     After returning to the group, the receiver turned off within his pipboy, Devlin appeared calm, slightly bored but calm. It was then that confusion replaced his boredom as he could see it in the other's faces.. many were unnerved by something but he said nothing for the moment. Shaking his head lightly as he motions with his sling laden hand, "Sorry, I didn't stock up on any torchlight being needed, don't have a way of holding it well if I did." Following along the route, Devlin's steps at times became half steps and off to one side steadily, causing his pace to slow until he stood at the rear of the group, only then did his pace stabilize without being prompted.

    Watching the group, Devlin brings his laser pistol wielding arm across his stomach, though his wrist was largely limp, keeping the weapon aimed downwards. Shifting his gaze from one back to the next, the man began to assess the worth of each of the members present against how skittish their guide has become despite nothing drawing close to the group while he was on guard.

    With Dunwich coming into view, Devlin parts his lips as his tongue runs along his upper teeth only to linger onto his second canine tooth. Running his tongue back and forth slowly, his gaze shifts then to his laser pistol and nodding a moment after closing his mouth again. "While blood and spirits become a weapon, a melody is only bait for the teddy bears, maybe the dancing protectrons too," is said a bit louder than a whisper as the man began to think aloud.
Ashur Ashur fusses over the singed-fingered girl with all the matronly instincts of a hen -- but when she settles on the stump and waits, he settles as well, and lets her be. The talk of the People's Song earns Marcus a lingering look, and a faint tickle at the back of his thoughts; Surelda seemed to understand what the youth meant, but Ashur certainly does not.

As the group marches down the highway, the tomb-city of Dunwich rising like a dead man's fingers from the sullied horizon, and the bitter fog of the city becomes a cloying, curtaining thing that thickens the air.. Ashur huffs. "The Federation's first official campaign should be to bring torch and pitch and set fire to that black place," he booms, kicking a stray rock along. He passes those hours chatting with Shiloh and Surelda, and even winds down listening to Tibbie's story. "Poor Dave," he muses. "Poor Dave."

They begin to reach their destination and he hrms. "Fret not over the darkness. There is nothing to fear."
Lua      Marcus managed to pull himself away long enough to keep up with the group, though he seemed withdrawn afterward. He simply followed the others now.
Iris Lark Iris holds out her arm and taps on her Pip, the computer shining into the gloom of the darkness. "My Pip can shed some light, but not a whole lot." She offers, holding her arm out enough to guide the wheelbarrows and the people pushing them. She glances back at Devlin when he speaks, but continues to walk slowly on the road, being careful not to trip over anything that might get in the way. The wolf trots along with the rest, ears twitching as he shadows the Healer's footsteps.
Shiloh      Shiloh smiles up at Ashur while they talk together, nodding to him and Surelda as they go. She does listen to Tibbie's story too while she walks, albeit distractedly since she has to stay focused on where she leads them off to. She offers Tibbie a grin of amusement, both at her answer and the fact that she is still calling her boss of all things. "It's alright, we can simply share one if we have to and keep close. Maybe the moon might give us some light to walk by." A baby molerat skitters into a burrow after its family and some birds circle the skies overhead, looking for carcasses or maybe just curious why such a large group is travelling out this way. By the time that they reach the circled destination, Shiloh wastes no time working with the others to get the second to last transmitter up and out of the wheelbarrow. Settled in its proper place, Shiloh works on unscrewing the back of the transmitter and getting a better look inside of it. For now, Tibbie and Marcus are stationed to guard and keep to themselves while the others either work on the transmitter or keep watch.

     Shiloh follows through the routine that she has going, making sure there's nothing too broken or out of place before calling for the power to be checked on the device. "Yuck...insulation isn't as good on these ones...hopefully the rain doesn't come and cause a short circuit..." She comments under her breath, shaking her head to herself. She does her best to roll out the old colored plastic and rubber to cover more of the wires. After doing as much as she can do, she hooks up the wires to the power unit and calls over. "Alright, turn it on." Just as Shiloh's about to hook up the volt-tester again, something gives her pause. That wind whispers across the landscape again, carrying with it songs from everyone's memories.

     It is louder this time, no doubting its presence this time even by the ones who are more aware of its presence, calling out to them and beckoning them away from the site. Shiloh grows pale and looks around, whispering, "John? Pa? What...what are all you doing out here?", under her breath. She sets the device down on the ground and her hand moves slowly to her tool belt. She slowly draws out the wire cutters and with her head canted to try to better hear the music, she unwittingly brings the tool up to the transmitter's innards. She lets a handful be caught between her cutter blades, and it looks like her hand is going to be closing around it to snip the wires and potentially ruin the machine. She catches herself just short of causing damage and pulls her hand away out of fright. "R-remember...stay vigilant! We have to keep focused on our task!"
Elsie Surelda is doing better this time with the setup. Not much better, but at least she doesn't zap herself. She's settled on her knees, doing the most basic portions of the setup with a new calm. Perhaps the walk over, with all the chatter, was pleasant enough that she was able to set aside the fear of the mists, and the feeling of her singed flesh. Or perhaps Ashur did manage to kiss it better.

Either way, she works diligently, the technology taking up most of her focus. So it's only at the last moment that she sees what Shiloh does, and her mouth opens to yell when the boss-woman recovers. Surelda moves to her feet, offering over an open hand. "Would you like me to hold those until we're done? You can just tell me what to clip." Her smile is warm and sweet.
Devlin     The melody for the first time reaches Devlin's ears but rather than look around, he knows the source for himself. Looking down at his wrist, he furls his brow as despite him turning off the receiver he was starting to hear music. Lidding his eyes slightly, a faint smile appears on his lips for a fleeting moment before anger causes his face to twist into a snarl. "Tsk.. Don't try and just trick me. I come back and you'll just execute me," is seethed out through clenching teeth.

    Looking at his wrist, Devlin lifts his arm to his mouth and uses his teeth to grip his sleeve and draw it back, allowing him easier access to his pipboy. Lowering it back to his other arm, he soon begins to twist the setting, lowering the volume and altering the set signal wavelength but.. the melody continued, much to his confusion.

    Turning away from his pipboy, Devlin looks towards Shiloh once the cry was shouted, an order, one that was even more puzzling than before. "Vigilant? There's nothing out here, not even the mists are starting to encroach, what are you talking about? Did something go wrong with the relay units?"
Ashur This time the queer song catches the Legionnaire's attention. It is faint, but present: a woman's voice, some nonsense words. It is at once soothing and unnerving -- he feels the seductive touch of calmness but beneath that voice is an awareness it can't exist, and it makes his skin prickle and pop, hand curling into a massive boulder of a fist.

To calm himself, the brute has begun to pace; back and forth, back and forth, over a partially-collapsed burrow leading to a molerat den. The thunder of his steps makes shiver the ground, and arouses the irritated curiosity of whatever dumb animal lives in that den now -- partially shrouded by the underbrush, small and beneath his notice, the pale pink hairless thing stares up and flicks its tongue out and drinks deep of the encroaching night.

Harmless, it instinctively realizes of the group; non-enemies.

Ashur steps on it with a sickening crunch, foot catching in the opened burrow-hole, as he spins off balance and smacks into the ground with a resounding thud and a great explosion of dirt and gravel.

Iris Lark The music starts to invade Iris's senses and she turns, taking a step towards where she hears it, curious about where it's coming from. She stands at the edge of where things are being set up, and after a few moments she raises her wrist towards her ear, trying to see if the music is coming from her Pip-Boy. Then someone swears loudly and it makes her blink, turning away from where she wandered with a puzzled look on her face. She walks back towards the group, shaking her head back and forth.
Shiloh      Shiloh rubs a hand across her face tiredly, looking down at her own tool with a perplexed and confused expression. "I...I don't think that I'll be needing these afterall. Thank you though, for the offer. Maybe the next one there might be more of a need for them...but I...doubt it." She stows it back away in her belt and silently works on closing up the machine again, "We'll just...skip testing it this time. I think we did all that we could and it should be working just fine. No shocks to worry about or anything like that. I'm...tempted to say that we don't try to cover it up either...but let's just get some of the brush over it." She glances over at Devlin and frowns, trying to search for the words that might explain herself, "No. Nothing is wrong with them. Yet. I...I just don't remember why I got a tool out. It could have gone...badly. Something's trying to mess with me...with us." Shiloh sets to work at a quick pace, not nearly as careful or meticulous about covering up this one than compared to the last one.

     Ashur falling down on the ground has Shiloh jolting and she runs over to him to see what went wrong. She looks like she might get sick at the sight of the small crushed molerat, but she stifles it down to try to offer her hand to Ashur and get him back on his feet. "It's okay, look, it's hidden enough. We can get back to work now and we'll all be heading back home before we know it." When they're finished up, she encourages Tibbie and Marcus to grab the wheelbarrow and keep the group moving again. Whatever Shiloh heard has her flustered now, and she frowns down at her map as she walks with a firm, brisk stride. "It''s got to be more than just the signals alone." Shiloh mutters softly, "Can't imagine a random station that could just...I mean...Pa's miles away from El Dorado...even New Mexico possibly! And John...there's no getting to where John's been easily." She shakes her head and huffs out a quiet breath through her nose. "What could it be though...what's it wanting..." With these questions asked with no answers yet, their trek leads them back to the highway to walk further west, closer to the intimidating fog.
Elsie Surelda recognizes the sound not only of the swear, but of the heavy sounds that accompany a fall. Ashur's a unique frame; and it makes a unique and loud noise. She, however, doesn't rush over toward him. If there's true danger, after all, he'd likely prefer to have her stay where she is. So stay she does, though she does speak. "Papi? Is everything alright?" she asks of the man, twisting a finger along the poncho-sleeve of her cloak. A subtle, yet nervous, gesture.

"Shiloh," she'll continue, once it's clear that Ashur seems to be doing alright. "Perhaps we should come back tomorrow. It's getting dark and I think that's what's spooking everyone." For her, at least, the music seems a distant memory; one she's sure she never heard in the first place, now. Mostly sure, anyway. Still, if the group treks on, she will too. But she'll be staying very close to Ashur for the duration.
Devlin     Distracting him from his initial questions was a cry out of tinny fury as he heard the crash along with Ashur's shout. Turning around, he witnessed the end result but it didn't appear to amuse him, though his eyes then turned to see if others were near the metal wrapped giant, and nods when no others were found needing assistance from falling or being trapped.

    With the melody still playing in his ears, Devlin's mood wasn't peaceful but.. souring, bitter. "On your feet then soldier, we have our orders." Tilting his head slightly to one side as he approaches with more pointed and swift steps as he makes his way to not only Shiloh but also Surelda. At the news of almost using the correct tools, the man's face twists grumpily."If you're second guessing the tools of this trade I'll offer you my hand, it doesn't seem that complex."

    "For now, focus, both of you," is said as Devlin looks at Surelda, explaining "The giant won't die if a deathclaw used his head as a chew toy," is said blandly, as if it was a fact known to even children despite the outlandishness of it. "We'll be moving towards the next location. He will follow," as he spoke he looks over his shoulder, looking for if Ashur managed to stand yet or not, though he made no move to help the ankle trapped man.
Ashur Ashur is unharmed. He didn't even twist his ankle, he just went off balance -- it's dark, he's fidgety, that damn music has him feeling strangely anxious. What was he supposed to do? Everyone knows if there's a hole around, he winds up in it.

"Degenerate pests," he grumbles, taking the offered hand despite the girl not having remotely the strength necessary to help lift him. It's an autopilot reaction; grasp her wrist, place his other hand on the dirt, and push up, until he's straightened. A few clumps of dry plant-matter and dirt cling to his wool cloak, and so he wraps it around his arm and shakes it out.

"Their old burrows are all over; they dig them out, play brood mare, and then get bored and spread out. All sorts of half-sunken pits around."

"I'm fine, girls. Walk. The longer we spend in sight of that mist, the stranger all our heads will get."

He walks on. No one can see him wince under the helmet -- maybe he did hurt the ankle a little bit.
Iris Lark Iris follows along, sticking closer to Shiloh and Surelda now. She glances around as the tendrils of mist move closer to the group, shuddering visibly. "We're almost done, right?" She asks, raising her arm to provide some light with her Pip.
Shiloh      "There's just one more that we need to finish, one more and then we can turn back." Shiloh tells Surelda, wrapping her arms around herself while she walks and tries to stay focused. She looks over at Devlin to watch him carefully after his blunt words and she nods her head slowly. "You are welcome to try your hand with it if you would like." She offers him simply, chosing not to take the rest of his words the way she could. She looks up at Ashur and nods her head hesitantly as she listens to him, murmering softly in agreement, "You're right, you're all right. We should just keep moving...I think we turn southwest off the road up ahead. After this, we'll be all finished. This close to Dunwich, I say we don't worry about the camouflage. What say the rest of you?" She ticks her head and veers her course where they need to go, but there was no denying the mist's presence. It could not have been more than seventy yards out, a mere stone's throw in comparison to where they were.

     She works on getting the transmitter out but frowns to herself when she notices something. She taps on a glass meter that seems to be twitching and comments, "This...should not be moving. We've yet to hook up the power source and the switch is still off..." She breathes in a deep breath and shakes her head to herself, but despite her observations she kneels down and works on unscrewing the back panel. "We have to be extra careful...good chance that this might still be able to give us a zap..." This close to the mists, the tone and quality of the music has started to change. What was once comforting has drifted to more sinister territory. Familiar tones and lyrics are distorted and off-pitch, and the low cackle of static and shrill laughter can be heard behind it. This makes Shiloh falter when she's trying to screw, the head of the screwdriver slipping out of place and scratching against the metal. She quietly curses but corrects herself, until she's able to get the transmitter open.
Elsie Devlin gets a look of surprise from Surelda as they move on. She doesn't argue with the man -- but really, does Surelda argue with anyone? -- but instead just turns and begins to move on the trek, though she does slow up enough to allow Ashur to at least catch up. She'll be fairly quiet now, the gravity of the situation and the mist around them weighing heavily on the young woman.

At least, once they get there, Surelda can focus on the work at hand. Having done it twice now, she's actually got the hang of her basic tasks and involvement. She moves a bit more quickly and with a bit more surity this time around, those slender fingers ducking in and out of the access panels to get the item assembled and set up. Every now and again, she'll glance back toward Ashur with a look of curiosity, and then one to Devlin, as if to see if he'd seen that look or noticed. Then it's back to the task at hand.
Devlin     "Those things that 'infect' that settlement don't need eyes to see something, anyone who gets that close anyways for scavenge will have larger issue than just us." Looking away from Shiloh and around them for a few moments but he doesn't slow his movements. Forgoing picking up the tools before he studies the device up and close, he looms over the smaller girl while examining the object within her hands.

    With Shiloh going down to one knee, Devlin does so as well but then looks away, holstering his pistol within his hip holster before drawing back his sleeve and tapping into a few files within the unit. Nodding lightly, his head stops every so often while his eyes flick from side to side rapidly, skimming over the databank's scrolling instructions. Looking up from the wrist unit, he moves a hand over to tap the shell gently and says, "It's the mists, they live, it's not the machine that you're seeing here."

    Trying to set some ease within Shiloh, Devlin moves away for a moment to get one of the tools to assist connecting the power unit and adjusting the adaptor compensator to lower the voltage for a more stable signal without interference. Once he was done and looking to shift back and allow Surelda to continue helping, he caught her gaze and only gained a light nod in return. "I will not touch what I shouldn't, there are more important things at hand to risk an error now." The words were vague, though it is likely the intent was focused towards Surelda.

    Shifting back, Devlin starts shift his gaze towards Shiloh, waiting for the young woman to give a signal if the pair were connected strongly enough for them to retreat back towards Roswell even if just a mile within the darkness.. He showed no desire to be within the mists.
Ashur As the two tech-head girls work side-by-side, the ghostly, dirt-stained Ashur lingers behind them. He can hear the music clearly now; the undertone of dread the previous version conveyed is amplified to a severe degree -- that soft, feminine voice crackles and rasps as it sings in his head, echoing between the sides of his helmet. What began as a soothing melody has become an ecastatic anger.

The brute gives his head a firm smack with his palm, clearing it out, and then rests his hands on Shiloh and Surelda's shoulders. They're close enough together for it.

"You've both done well," he says to pacify, squeezing lightly. The Legionnaire might not have the most eloquent of praise and reassurance, but he can see how Surelda keeps glancing around anxiously and how Shiloh's hands shake and she freezes at points. The two are clearly distraught.

"Finish, and I will escort you home. The air here is foul; you'll feel better when it clears."

Paradoxically, he is calmer now than when he paced. The faint pain of his ankle centers him -- but more importantly, the song becoming more explicitly unsettling solidifies the threat in his mind, lets him externalize it. It isn't a weird, vague feeling inside him now. It's a Bad Thing. Good.

And once Devlin's helped them all wrap it up, they can finally turn about and make their way to healthier climes. All that's left is a last comment to Surelda and her wandering eye: "Stop."
Iris Lark Iris stands at the edge of the group and she watches the others as they work quickly. When things are finished she automatically starts to back towards the way home, wanting to get as far away from Dunwich and the mist as she can, as quickly as possible. She keeps her pistol close, moving at a near jog as she starts to move back towards Avalon.
Shiloh      Shiloh peeks up at Ashur and it does seem to help steady her nerves for a few moments. This lasts for as long as Shiloh cannot see the smoke start to roll out from the machine. She coughs and fans the inside of the transmitter, trying to air it out from the miamsa that had started to build up within it. She frowns to herself and asks frantically, "Shit, did things fry inside of it already?!" She wheezes and squints through her eyes that tear up from the irritation, and manages to rasp out to Devlin and Surelda, "I don't know about you two, but I don't see anything out of the order here...nothing that could explain this kind of smoke. Let's power it up, turn it on, and get out of here." The demented music is hard on the eardrums now, getting sharper and sharper like nails hammered in against the board of the mind. It starts to cause migraines, and those with weaker constitutions may notice themselves starting to get a nosebleed.

     When Shiloh closes up the machine from attaching the power supply to the rest of the circuits and flips the power switch, she reaches up to dab at her nose and frowns at the blood that she finds. "Not...not good. Definitely not good...Let's...let's get out of here. It''ll work now." When looked at again, the mist would be much closer than it was before and the transmitter no longer in our sights. It would seem that the entire group suffers from a lapse of memory that led them to walking closer. Within the rolling murk three dark figures start to rise up to their full height from within, with winged sillouettes and piercing yellow eyes staring down at the group.

     Shiloh's eyes grow wide and she can only squeak in terror at first, until she finds her voice to scream out to the others, "Run!" She trips over her own two feet in the heated scramble to get away but clambers up and points desperately east so the others know which way to go. Shiloh cared little about how cowardly it may make them see, they were just tasked with putting up the radio transmitters. It was far too above their paygrade to stay and deal with whatever -those- were! Whether they choose to follow the orders or not, the unknown entities there let out a sonic screech of a feral and bestial nature, truly unhappy that its prey had come to its senses at the worst of times.
Elsie Surelda remains kneeling by the contraption but leans far back as it starts to smoke. It's only after Ashur has touched and praised her that she moves to her feet, dusting off her knees and her hem. Her head tilts slightly downward and she becomes a bit more meekly focused on the task at hand once she's chastized by the large bear of a man who hovers so.

Her head only lifts when Shiloh shouts. Surelda's first reaction is to glance behind her, over her shoulder at the danger. So it's only a second and a half later that she's leaning forward, running quickly after Shiloh in a panic. She doesn't really keep much track of directly where she's going; she just tries to keep the other woman nearby.