Drew didn't see any more trolls, and as the adrenaline drained away from him, he sat down on the curb. "So, hi? Any of you lot a healer? Because I could really use one right now," Drew said, while cradling his injured right hand in his lap. As the adrenaline drained out of him, he realized that he had several other sore spots from the scrambling during the fight.
The group of humans just stared at him, then they looked at each other and started shaking their heads silently. Finally, from near the back, a man raised his hand, "Uh, I sort of have a heal." Drew looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He was a few inches over six foot, in his late 40s or early 50s, and the exposed portions of his neck and arms were covered in nautical tattoos, and he had a mostly yellow and orange aura. The man was wearing NWUs that had seen better days, bearing the anchor rank insignia of a chief on his lapel, although Drew supposed his own newly appropriated ODUs weren't in all that much better shape. The crowd parted to let the chief come through.
"Hello Chief, what do you mean you 'sort of' have a heal?" Drew asked. He didn't bother to stand up, knowing that if he did, he would begin shaking from the aftereffects of the fight.
"Well, it's a heal, I just…" The chief trailed off for a moment and then muttered, "Gotta hug you."
Drew cocked his head to the side, "Pardon? Did you say you have to hug me?" The chief nodded. "What...What is the skill called?" Drew asked, confused. He hadn't seen any spells that required anything more elaborate than a hand seal or an incantation to activate.
By now the Chief stood in front of him and was looking down at Drew, "It's called: Daddy's Embrace."
Drew looked up, somewhat intimidated by the large man looming over him. With a grunt, he stood up, "Weird, but I'll take it. Hug it out?" he said, spreading his arms for the hug. The chief just grunted and hugged him back. Instantly Drew felt better, the pain in his leg, hands, and the other half dozen minor injuries disappearing. He also felt safe and secure, which he assumed was another side effect of the skill.
"Thanks," Drew said, stepping away from the chief and stretching out his newly healed leg as he scanned the crowd. There was no sign of Daryl, but the other eighteen people with the chief were all in a similar state of disrepair; dirty and disheveled, heavy bags under their eyes, and a half-defeated expression on their faces. About half of them wore air force or army uniforms, while the rest were in civilian clothing. "I'm IT2 Drew Michalik. A few others and I just managed to escape Coast Guard HQ, who's in charge here?"
The Chief glanced at the others, "I guess I am, haven't seen any of the brass since they led us into the basement." He glanced at Drew, "Where's the rest of your group?"
"Daryl should be around here...somewhere," Drew said, looking around for the invisible man, but didn't see him. "He was the one that warned you to get away from the alley. And the other two are back at the St. E's exchange. We had to fight our way out of the building. Only three of us made it. Ensign Rothschild got knocked out and hasn't woken up since that last fight."
"Yeah, it's been rough here too." The chief looked around, "We should get out of the open though, makes me nervous not having something solid between me and those damn monsters."
Drew considered their options. The room where they'd stayed last night wouldn't hold all twenty of them, "Well, to be honest, I hadn't really thought about what to do after I rescued everyone. We probably don't have the manpower to protect the commissary, which is where Daryl said y'all had holed up before. We can make for the St. E's exchange, the trolls might not chase us that far, but it's a fair distance. I need to go back there with a healer anyway to get Katie and Sarah. Is there another building around here we could use?"
The Chief looked around and scratched his cheek, thinking. "I dunno, I guess we could take over just about any building. The only problem is we were chosen for this because none of us have any red skills. So, anyone you left behind would be sitting ducks without you."
Drew frowned, glancing at the group, and realized that all the auras had a distinct lack of red in them. The conversation up to this point had been relatively quiet; the group of humans had sort of just sat down while the Chief and their rescuer talked. "Do any of you have any kind of combat or defensive intermediate xatherite?"
He went around the group; mostly they had xatherite that wouldn't help much in combat, at least not without some setup. There was a mostly green guy named Clyde that could tame monsters, a blue girl named Kwincy that had managed to hide the fact that she could summon a medium fire elemental, several oranges that could apply buffs and debuffs, and two yellows with shielding spells that Drew was incredibly jealous of. The rest were things that would make life much, much easier, but weren't very useful for combat.
Drew realized that their xatherite had a kind of theme for each person. One woman had three different skills that all focused on her profession as a seamstress. Another had a bunch of woodworking skills. Others had basic spells that would conjure water, clean clothing, or half a dozen other tasks, that while incredibly useful, weren't going to be much use in combat.
The most useful of the group by far was the chief, whose name was Bill, with his healing and buff spells, and two indigos. The second was a 17-year-old girl named Jholie who could create headaches and temporary deafness. The other was a 19-year-old army private named Trey, who could create stationary illusions and mirror images of himself that would make targeting him incredibly difficult.
The sheer variety of xatherite amazed Drew, and he felt like he knew quite a bit about their personalities just by hearing what xatherite they had received. Bill's healing spell was a perfect example: he obviously had a child whom he loved greatly, and that had caused him to get a skill that would comfort them. Daryl got spells that made him harder to see, and he was always trying to lay low. What did the fact that almost all his xatherite were made to destroy things say about his personality?
While he pondered the ramifications of this new discovery, he cast Refreshing Rain on the group, their morale visibly improving as the spell renewed their flagging energy. He turned to Bill intending to ask him a question right as Daryl's aura appeared at the edge of his vision. He ignored it, for now, something telling him not to reveal how close the black man could get before he noticed. When Daryl did fade into existence, he was surprised by the fact that he was carrying several thick green skins.
"Daryl, what…are those?" Drew asked as the entire group turned to look at him.
"Ahh, I was using my resource harvesting xatherite on the trolls, figured we could turn it into armor like the stuff you're wearing," Daryl answered, looking just a bit uncomfortable with the attention he was getting.
Drew wasn't sure how he felt about using the skins of sentient creatures to make armor, but at this point, if it would keep some of these people alive, he would take it. "Alright, Chief, I say we get to the commissary, grab some food and then find one of the nearby buildings to keep most of the group. Then you, me, and Jholie head up to get Katie and Sarah. It shouldn't take more than four hours if we hustle. Meanwhile, Trey will use his illusion to hide the group and Daryl will scout to warn them if anything is coming, and the rest can focus on defense."
Bill nodded his head, "Sounds good to me, Petty Officer." Drew winced as his title was used. In the Coast Guard, you only called someone Petty Officer when they were in trouble or getting an award. He knew that wasn't the common practice in the Navy, but it felt like his Mom had just called him by his full name.
Bill began giving orders to everyone, splitting Daryl's load among the others and sending him out to find a place big enough for the group to hide easily. They made their way to the commissary, which was just a few more blocks away.
"Chief, I killed a bunch of cultists yesterday and they had some long daggers. The Mana Storm last night cleared most of their bodies, but I think I saw some daggers still in the soccer field. Might be a good idea to send people out to grab those while we get food." Drew informed Bill as they passed the soccer field.
Bill nodded his head slowly "They won't do much against the trolls but might be useful for the other monsters we went up against." He sent three people out running into the field to get the daggers. As they walked, Bill asked Drew questions about what they had faced in the dungeon. "I'm amazed that any of you survived. I was privy to a good deal of the general's planning meetings, and of the hundreds of people on base, we didn't have anyone that came anywhere near your firepower. If we had…" He trailed off and his eyes took on a faraway look.
Drew could do the math, Bill obviously had a child and odds were pretty good that the kid had died during the first days of the advent. Unsure of what to say that would comfort the older man, he just let the conversation lull while he dealt with his grief. Drew was frankly amazed that he was functioning as well as he was. He couldn't even imagine what it must be like to watch your child die. He was reminded of King Theoden's line in the Two Towers, "No parent should have to bury their child."
They made it to the commissary without further incident, although most of the former prisoners kept watching over their shoulders to ensure that no trolls spewed forth from the DIA building in retaliation of their escape.
The commissary itself was a creepy structure, the inside dark due to the lack of windows. Drew pulled out Katie's glowrock while the others all seemed to have conjured glow sticks that gave less light but could be used like flashlights to see much further than glowrock allowed in a specific direction. The commissary was empty of any creatures and they filled up four shopping carts with canned goods and other non-perishable items. Drew began chewing his way through a pound of teriyaki jerky and put another four in his backpack.
By the time they were done, Daryl had found a likely building in the form of the auto shop; its large warehouse would keep them out of sight of the trolls while also giving them plenty of tools to work within the meantime. They could break into one of the back doors easily enough and have Trey put up an illusion to make it look like it was still intact.
Drew and Daryl went first, clearing the warehouse and front room of a couple of rats, which were as big as the one Sarah killed, that had taken up residence inside the warehouse. The group joined them inside when they announced that it was clear. The troll skins were claimed by the seamstress, who thought she could probably use them to make some armor, while everyone else either found some relatively soft places to sit and wait or began digging through the parts looking for things they could turn into weapons.
Bill stood up on a bucket to get everyone's attention. "Alright everyone, IT2, myself, and Jholie are going to go get two more survivors. We should be back before dark." Drew winced at that, the exact words he had said the day before to Katie. "We need to figure out a way to get everyone else out of the DIA building, so start looking for weapons that will do fire damage. Also, see if you can all get together and make a map of the place. Anything you remember of where the Trolls usually were and where prisoners were would be helpful. While I'm gone, the chain of command is Chuck, then Daryl and Trey."
He indicated the woodworker, who at 57 was the oldest person in the group by a fair margin. Daryl and Trey were working on the defenses. He then turned to Drew and Jholie and nodded, "Alright, let's go save some people."