“Hey!” Elly shouted, springing up from her display to the children. “I’m not a freak, I’m a mutant, and there’s nothing wrong with that! What’s wrong is the narrow world view of people like you who don’t make any room for people who aren’t like you.” Her fury spent, Elly…For some reason decides to continue. “And that’s why it’s wrong of you to…Not have…this lawn more properly cut?”

It seems like even she got a little distracted about what exactly she was ranting about in the first place.

Ani bristled and responded, “An antiquated and reductive term for genetically gifted people like her and I.” E gestured only to Elly, who’d identified herself as such, but e’d wager most of the others fell in the same camp. E left it up to any other Evo brothers and sisters among the hall’s survivors to reveal themselves, however. “Though it’s not as bad as ‘freak’. You should be mindful of slinging words like that around when the circus has come to town.” Eir mask’s faintly illuminated green eyes fixed warningly on Sonderburg, before e stepped forward to address further words to Anagloria. The old woman seemed to have both a more interesting take on their nature, and claimed to have the ear of the local queen, which made her the far more influential potential ally of the two.

“Where I come from, we prefer the term Evolved. ‘There are no mutants in Nation,’ as they say. But you wouldn’t be the first to call the Evolved the New Gods, aaand I did literally metaphorically descend from the heavens before…this little detour. Tell me more about my divinity, maybe we can help each other out – you know that was actually on my short list before I decided to go by Spider Wasp? I decided it’d be a little too arrogant. Lot to live up to, calling yourself ‘Divinity’, the minute you stub a toe and someone sees it everyone’s going to say that name sarcastically for the rest of your life.”

Moriko watched the exchange with raised eyebrows. Apparently, an argument was taking place about whether or not they were divine beings or freaks. Moriko did not know what a freak was, but judging by the man’s expression it clearly was not a good thing. He didn’t feel comfortable claiming godhood; he doubted Inari would approve, but surely a little deception in the name of peace was not unwarranted?

“We mean you no harm,” he said to the blustering knight. “Believe what you will about our natures, but we can aid you in your struggles.” As he spoke, Motiko drew water from a puddle on the ground into his hand and formed it into a spear of ice. “Our powers are considerable.” He melted the spear into ball of water and then made a shield of ice, which he then threw at Sir Sonderburg, but before it collier with the man, in exploded into a gentle shower of rain. During which time, Moriko had managed to sneak around behind the knight and appear at his shoulder, looking a bit more human than usual. “I’m sure we could be of mutual benefit to each other.”

Even without the lingering ringing in his ears, the argument made Omnimight nervous. They were unpredictable; off-script. And what was this about ‘mutants’? Had they meant some of the mutated creatures so often brought from offworld for the arenas? No, they were much too small to bother (and the purple one’s costume was too nice). All that was lost in translation finally got him to take a good look at the individuals around him and realize just how different they all were. They wouldn’t get anywhere without finding some common ground.

That was when he saw Moriko summon his weapon out of almost nothingness. Between him, Omnimight himself, and the knight accosting them, he made a connection - they could all fight! - It was a start. When Moriko them mentioned help, he took it one step further…

“…Yes!” He pointed quickly toward the keep the arrivals had come forth from; the fast movement made his chest and shoulder hurt. “We could… we could be very useful at being helpful, to you. To protect that. A fighter must always be on guard, but… You should see us before you decide!… right?”

The gladiator surely had the power to move mountains – as for the power to change minds, the jury was out.

A knight already suspicious of the lot of them to the point of insult, or some form of priestess, hopefully learned as a result, that happens to already be on their side (in a sense)? The choice is clear to Nereid who to court when it comes to understanding what’s going on here, and she can’t say she isn’t tempted by the perception. With a glance towards the others - especially Moriko, whose powers have kept her notice ever since the fight - she heads to Ani’s side near the Guardian, a slight smile to em and Elly for being so quick to come to their defense in their own ways.

Turning towards Sonderburg, her words carry just the slightest tone of irritation as she speaks up. “I’ve never heard of Nation, but I can’t help but be a bit offended by the word ‘freak’ myself, ‘Sir’. Who are you to say what we are or aren’t? Perhaps it’d be worth actually speaking to us before judging so sharply? You’ve seen what they can do,” she continues, nodding to Moriko and Omnimight, “so can you really rule out the possibility so quickly? Your Guardian seems to bear a good deal of wisdom, and though I’m sure you have quite the skill with that blade of yours, I’d say her judgment of us would be far more insightful than your own.”

Spider Wasp watched Moriko’s demonstration of power with curiosity and admiration for the way he toyed with the blustering mundie. The flinch the dissipating shield elicited was especially rewarding. E was about to caution Foxy and the Brick against signing them up for a fight that wasn’t theirs, but instead eir head turned towards Nereid in surprise when she claimed never to have heard of Nation.

E didn’t voice eir incredulity just yet, however. Instead e smiled behind eir mask as she spoke, at hearing another Evo (the irritation in her voice at the slur was sufficient confirmation for em) taking Sonderburg to task. It was always heartwarming when the Evolved came together to rake a bigot over the coals. Whatever had happened, wherever they were, at least Ani was among eir people.

All the more reason to make sure no-one else lost a hand. Ani looked around the gathered and asked as discreetly as e could, not wanting to interrupt the ongoing conversation with the keep’s representatives, “Anyone got a handkerchief or something?”

Amid the discussions, Velan’s approach went largely unnoticed. For the moment the Tyrant chose to observe how these other creatures, noticeably greater than the cattle before them, interacted with the mewling masses of whatever underdeveloped locale they found themselves in.

It was becoming disgustingly conciliatory.

He fixed his impassive gaze upon Sir Sonderburg, though clearly was addressing the others that had made the journey with him, “Why does this worm give us direction? Those sheep pawing at their gates will serve us just as these weaklings cowering within their keep.”

Turning, he threw an arm out, gesturing to the horizon, “And these true gods of Nalbin? Where are they? What is the measure of a god that cannot protect its own domain? Worthless idols that we will shatter.”

“Listen to your crone, insects. These pathetic invaders will bow before us and then we will return for you to do the same. Gods do not bow to the whims of their servants.” Striding toward the gates, the self-styled god offered one parting command.

“Count yourselves blessed that we do not crush you underfoot for your audacity to question us.”

Meanwhile, Dr Anjali Singh had completed her grim business. A clean removal of the irreparably damaged hand and surrounding necrotic tissue, one of the more taxing tests of her suit’s capabilities, being completely outside of the lab, but things had seemingly performed to planned specifications. The man would no doubt be unhappy, but he’d recover.

Anjali looked up from her work, letting the rest of the world sink back into her awareness. The children she’d been idly worried about scarring were gone, having been drawn to the spectacle that was apparently going on somewhere over her shoulder. A group of the strange individuals she’d landed with, having a spirited discussion with…someone. The Doctor couldn’t see that well beyond them, but caught a glimpse of the sort of armour reserved for museums and fantasy stories. She could barely suppress a sigh.

Lingering uncomfortably nearby was the remaining farmer, jittering with nerves over the terrifying happenings and strange company. Anjali had to click her fingers exasperatedly at him a few times to finally catch his attention, waiting until his gaze came into focus on her before she spoke. “This man needs to rest, we should take him home. Do you know where that is?” A shaky nod was the only response. “Okay, good,” Anjali returned in a calm, clinical tone. “Help me carry him there.”

A little woodenly at first, but with growing certainty after being given a job that would take him away from the frightening strangers, the man bent and helped Anjali ease her patient up, then away from the field. The Doctor followed the man’s lead, though perhaps she should’ve given more thought to where she would end up, or what she’d do next.

The Doctor’s first instinct at having a madwoman brandish a ladle at her was to duck straight back out the door, but retreating would mean dropping her hold on the still heavily sedated ‘Victor’ and possibly sending him heavily to the floor if the other man couldn’t support his weight. She stayed her ground, but did find herself almost involuntarily using her half of the patient as a shield while quickly giving what explanation she could. Hopefully a calm and confident tone would be enough to save herself a beating; professional was Anjali’s watchword.

“I’m a doctor!” There was a brief pause for a throat clear, Anjali eyeing the end of the heavy spoon. “A doctor,” she repeated in a slightly more sedate tone. “Your husband caught a very sudden and–…virulent disease in the field. I’m sorry but, he lost his hand. He’ll need time to rest. Do you have somewhere…?”

A glance was cast around the small hut that the unlucky farmer and his wife called home. The authenticity of every new sight - and unfortunately, smell - further drove home that this wasn’t just a sudden trip to Mustafa’s Medieval Funland. Somehow, Anjali’s entire world had unraveled, and she’d need to be careful about every step she took, or an angry shrew with a spoon would be the least of her worries. She’d already been seen lasering off a man’s hand; if she’d had access to even the barest of modern facilities then growing a new appendage to have surgically attached would’ve been a relatively simple matter, though it was unlikely that was worth suggesting wherever she was now. Dr Singh didn’t especially want to test her buoyancy in the nearest river.