Call of C'Handler

With a shake of her head to snap herself out of her daydream, November looked at their new found, albeit dark and discomforting, surroundings with much speculation. The wretched chanting had returned to her ears and the sight of those damnable cultists and that horrid stench of rotten fruit made her stomach retch, making her narrow her eye with a disgruntled expression. It was the mirror that distracted her attention from them the moment she saw it.

What was that lurking beyond the looking glass?

The dog-woman tilted her head in a curious manner as a hand covered her sensitive nose, before daring to take a step off the lift to linger nearer. She tilted her head to the other side, her single eye searching for more, craving to understand just what was going on and ignoring all else for now.
 
Tyce's brain struggles to comprehend this new scene, and ultimately fails, causing a small nosebleed. Tyce responds how he always does when he don't understand something.
"Whut da fuk iz diz shit, this is sum gay ass fucking fag shit!" Tyce bellows at the the cult. Then, with the gleam of pyromania in his eyes, he grabs the second Molotov and hurls it at the circle. As it arcs towards the group, Tyce extends both middle fingers and yells "#########PRROOOOONNNKKKKEEEDDDDD!!!!"
 
"Toadvine raised his arms to shield his face from the junkies petrol bomb. The fire flowed from its source fluidly and freely. The heat was immense and cacophonous and the weary bandit began to perspire. He stood his ground, trying not to let his thoughts drift to his reoccurring premonitions."
 
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