INTO THE WOODS ※ GAME EVENT

[wildestmods]

INTO THE WOODS

The faerie faire goes on into the evening, the faire filled with the sounds of revelry. For those who've spent the day there, the cool evening air is welcome respite from the bright sun that's shined all day. Those who still have some faerie gold might even want to invest in a cloak if they haven't gotten one yet, because it may get chillier as night falls.

As evening descends and various floating flowers start to glow to provide light, the spring faeries start to bring out night-time merchandise and amusements, like brightly-colored phosphorescent flower jewelry. Fireflies are charmed to blink in different colors and magical fireworks paint the sky in vibrant light. They're quieter than normal fireworks, but there are still satisfying snaps and hisses.

It seems like it'll be a pleasant night at the fair and those only just arriving in the evening will find a charming scene opening up before them.

But one thing that isn't noticed as evening begins to fall is the way the winter faeries suddenly slink away into the rising dark. Or at least it isn't noticed until it's too late. Some of the summer faeries start to react to it with alarm.

"Where did they go? The winter faeries are supposed to provide security, they signed an agreement. Go tell Ponto and get some faeries with warding magic to shore up the wards." Faeries start flying with purpose to speak to others that need to be put on security. "We can handle it ourselves but we need to get enough people out to the borders."

"Should we disperse the faire?"

"No, there's no sign of any threats and if we re-ward it, they'll be safer here than people scattering in the woods at night. Even if we had the bad luck to be attacked before the wards are re-done we can defend them with our magic - and we're contracted to."

Unfortunately that bad luck hits too soon. While the faeries scramble to re-do the defense wards, an unearthly fog rolls in. Terrible screeches start to rend the air, sounding similar to the screams of foxes. Warning bells ring from warning wards placed in certain areas of the woods.

"Nightrenders!" someone calls out and people in the crowd start screaming, gathering their loved ones closer. Horrifying beings start to pour into the faire and the hand stamps of all the people who bought tickets ahead of time start to glow. Faeries rally around those people, casting powerful defensive spells. Due to the panic, several stalls start to go up in flames due to knocked over cooking fires. Fortunately the stalls are small enough for people to escape them easily and spread far enough apart that they can be avoided, but smoke joins the fog in the air.

If a faerie sees one of the squad of otherworlders, and their lack of glowing hand stamp they're quick to offer a warning. "You have to run! The people who bought tickets ahead of time entered into a magical agreement of protection. The warding takes time to charge. We can do nothing for you, without slow-charge wards we're not powerful enough to protect you. The Nightrenders will devour your brain, or your soul."

Apparently that little disclaimer about not being fully protected that some of them read while coming in (for those that had arrived earlier in the day) was more important than it seemed.

The faeries always point the same way, still trying to help the people without tickets. "To the north! There's a place in a canyon with a large, glowing crystal. It looks like an abandoned market and dwellings. You'll be safe there, the magic of the Heartstone will protect you."

USEFUL LINKS

Setting Background/FAQ | Major NPCs


NIGHTRENDERS

The beings known as Nightrenders start amassing on the faire. Their movements are quick but clumsy, as if every one of their movements is made up of a hundred janky, smaller fits and starts, like they're made of clockwork. The faerie magic summer faeries use seems to do no more than stagger them back or temporarily knock them over, but at least makes it clear to the squad that they at least can be knocked over and slowed down. At the very least it seems to take them some time to get off the ground and back to their feet.

Attacks

They attack anyone they see in different ways. Some they wound with massive claws. Or they squeeze someone's torso and nearly suffocate them to give them a chance at possibly chomping into the heads of their victims to get at the brains. Most dangerously of all, they breathe in with a loud sucking noise, clawed hands guiding the magic that lets them drawn out someone's soul to devour it. It looks like a small delicate thing, sometimes in the form of a glittering star or a flower, as its drawn out of the victim's mouth.

This process can fortunately be interrupted if the Nightrender is attacked. As long as the soul hasn't been sucked into their mouths, it goes back into the victim.

Cursed Aura

But the whole thing is complicated by the magical aura caused by the Nightrenders. When they draw close, everyone around them is choked with fear, grief, and dread. Some succumb to visions of their worse memories playing out in their heads over and over. Some might be able to still stagger away in this state, trying to see through the visions, especially if someone helps them along, but others will find it nearly impossible to do anything other than curl on the ground. It is unknown why some don't have the flashbacks or can power through them more than others, though it's thought that those that repress their bad memories or negative emotions struggle more.

Anyone that helps someone who's having visions may get a glimpse of their memories - and empathically feel a flash of the pain, fear, rage, or grief they felt during the memory. If two people try to help each other move forward when both are having visions, they may transmit glimpses back and forth.

Weaknesses

The Nightrenders cannot be destroyed, only knocked down, or slowed down. However, those with "holy" weapons, spells, or powers, or those who have weapons, spells, or powers that can hurt "ethereal" beings or evil spirits will find they can cause them enough pain that sometimes they run away. Spells and abilities that create magical manifestations of good will and happiness, as well as spells of light, or purification can also harm them and drive them away.

THE SISTERS

The Nightrenders don't speak, but some have the misfortune of hearing two voices echo out of the fog. The come in stereo, only just slightly out of sync.

"Chosen Ones, you must be so confused. You've become lost in the forest, and the Dark Lord's nightmares already pursue you. Fortunately for you, our mistress desires your company. You'll adore obeying her will. Don't run, embrace a better destiny."

Two woman in white masks and straw hats, with cloaks made from the feathers of ravens, come out of the fog, body language almost identical. No eyes can be seen through the eyeholes of their masks, just darkness.

They start attacking, and when they beset their victims they stop speaking, refusing to talk or answer questions, instead filling the air with wild, mocking laughter. One wields twin katanas, the other a kusarigama with a painful claw at the end of the chain that closes down when it hits something.

Nets

While they're extremely willing to injure the squad they seem to be trying to capture them instead of killing (albeit capturing them after they're maimed), occasionally tossing out nets of glowing silver of moonlight. Being caught in the nets renders someone paralyzed and weak, a deep cold settling into the marrow of their bones. Some may even hear the shrieks of dying loved ones, whether they've actually died in reality or not. The Sisters apparently have the strength to carry even the largest of the squad in the air and will attempt to fly away when someone is ensnared.

The nets are difficult to destroy, but can be with great force of some kind. It has to be aimed at the part closest to the Sisters' hands, because the force required to break the nets would also injure those trapped inside them. The cold and paralysis fades when the victims are free, but some of the rescued may feel weak and need help staying on their feet. Unfortunately, even when they're broken, the nets of moonlight seem to be something they can recreate within several minutes.

Smoke Monsters

For some, they don't attack directly. Instead, one of the sisters pulls out a pipe and smoke monsters pour out of it. They try to drag their victims closer to the sisters so they can be caught in their nets. Fortunately, they can be destroyed with enough force.

While the Sisters seem impossible to injure, they can at least be caused pain with extreme enough attacks, something that makes them teleport away before risking any further injury.

PROMPTS

a) RENT
Uh oh, a Nightrender has you. Either it's squeezing you so hard you're suffocating and about to chomp into some juicy brains, or it's in the process of sucking your soul out through your mouth. In either case, you're likely broadcasting visions of your worst memories in small flashes to whoever is near. You're in desperate need of rescue and the summer faeries can't help - their magic is all but useless on the Nightrenders if it didn't have time to build by a covenant. Only others that fell into the Wilderlands like you did can save you.

(Feel free to provide multiple memory options ala a memshare, but keep in mind they'd only be flashes instead of a full memory!)

b) NABBED
The Sisters have got you, their smoke monsters are trying to drag you away, or you're still trying to fight them to avoid being caught. It'll be a lot easier if you have help - otherwise you're outnumbered and possibly outclassed. The only way to stop them is fight back hard enough that they feel you're not worth the effort and teleport off.

c) RESCUE
Perhaps you're not affected by the Nightrenders or are just good at powering through the haze of painful magic they're inflicting on the area. Either way, you're out to help the people around you. Perhaps you run into another member of the otherworlder squad that needs saving - or maybe they join you to protect a third otherworlder, or a denizen of the Wilderlands that also forewent a ticket and is therefore at risk. Unlike many of the people from other universes, many of the denizens of the Wilderlands are powerless and thought they were in for a day and night of safe fun.

There are also other hazards to rescue people from. Maybe a small child has been separated from their parents and is disoriented by smoke, in need of rescued from some flaming tents. Or maybe an elderly person has fallen and is at risk of being trampled. There are lots of reasons people might need help, due to fires, panicked horses, collapsing tents, and panicking crowds.

d) RUN
It's time to run! Perhaps, after some screaming and confusion - and teleportation - you finally grab a buddy and bolt through the woods. You better run fast because the Nightrenders and the Sisters may give up chase at some point but it may take time and moving through difficult terrain in the fog to lose them. Perhaps you and a partner have to help a third, injured otherworlder because they're having trouble walking.

Better head north like the faeries said. The faeries were right that this Heartstone to the north may be your only hope - and you'll have to reach it despite the fading evening light, skies overcast with dark clouds, and fog.

It may be easier navigating in the dark with a partner or two.

e) WILDCARD
Maybe you decide to do none of the above. Go nuts!

OOC DETAILS
❧ Quest magic: Players can handwave that the quest bond magic is tugging the group northward to the safe place, with the mysterious Heartstone. They can also use the quest magic as an excuse for many different threads. As the group tries to run, their scattering movements will affect the magic and cause people to teleport at random, allowing for many different encounters with many other characters. This can explain why two characters that might otherwise stay together through the whole thing might get separated.

❧ Network: The network can now be used. Mirrors can and do float if someone is trying to talk through one and running, and can follow someone as they move, allowing people to communicate on the go or during action. Feel free to start using the network in parallel with the log events.

❧ NPCing: The mods won't be npcing but players are free to npc the actions of bystanders, the Nightrenders, and the Sisters. The Sisters won't speak, just continue laughing, and players can npc their specific attacks, capture attempts, and teleportation. Please just don't have them talk or godmode them dying - they're currently a little too sturdy for that. If you have a question about whether/how something will affect them feel free to ask the mods in the first comment below.

❧ Environment: Feel free to manipulate the environment. There are things left over from the faire people can work with like bow and arrow sets from the competition, horses (which can be temporarily stolen, though we'd like to limit any that are permanently stolen to the (1) horse another player already requested), and even explosive faerie fireworks (they're quieter than the normal thing but still create a big bang). Abandoned stalls also have weapons and supplies to grab as people run for it. If they didn't think to steal or buy useful things during the day, please limit this to only grabbing one or two items as they run, like a cloak or sword. They won't have time to loot for more.

❧ Experimentation: We'd like to encourage people to experiment! Obviously ask other players if they're down first, but it could be fun to do something other than 2 person threads, like maybe 2 PCs banding to rescuing a 3rd. Players are also encouraged to set limitations if they think it'd be more interesting, like locking their final escape prompt from the faire grounds to a single thread partner and playing out the drama of a full escape.

[OOC: Plot is visible so people can see and start plotting together but not open until Nov. 1. The mods will enable comments then.]

Comments

aziraphale | open

[oldbookshop]

c1.

[ Aziraphale could, in theory, pick up a sword. If nothing else, they're certainly in supply. What is it humans say, like riding a bicycle?

In theory.

In practice, in accordance with a repeated personal choice spanning most of the entirety of time as a concept, Aziraphale opts not to pick up a sword. Given the chaos and the crowds, he thinks he might make that choice regardless just to mitigate potential very terrible accidents. He's never been a fan of violence. Certainly not of enacting it himself.

This doesn't stop him from trying his resolute best as far as the Nightrenders are concerned. At a certain point, things turn rather as-needs-must.

Aziraphale doesn't have a fraction of the power or range of ability with it that he should, that he always has. He has almost no idea what's going on large-scale and only an understanding of the most immediate priority in circumstance on the smaller scale.

But he's always been good at compartmentalizing, at pushing things back for later. For now, he's considering it a good sign that holiness is at all effective, when it sort of matters quite a lot to be able to be effective.

Broke: attempting to hack at lurching, horrifying nightmare creatures with an aura of dread and evil with a weapon that he hasn't actually used in thousands of years.

Woke: blessing a very sturdy skillet and slamming it into a Nightrender's knee to make it lose balance so he can try to get its victim back up and running. ]

Right, there we are, up you pop-- [ The Nightrender is making some brand of horrible because of being hit with a holy cooking implement. Lame. Aziraphale shoots a sidelong glance at it that's one part reflexive "please don't interrupt me" and two parts "mostly-concealed panic," which may be more commonly known as "urgency." ]

I'm afraid I haven't bought us very much time at all.

[ (Up for memory flash swaps as desired or up for more straightforward escape stuff! It's not his natural instinct to be especially touchy, but Aziraphale is willing to help people get up or hauled off if they need the assist!) ]


c2.

[ There are multiple factors contributing to Aziraphale lingering in this general disaster area for a grip. One of them is quest bond magic teleportation going haywire and popping him around a little bit. Cool! Disorienting. He may suddenly appear in the vicinity, looking disheveled and offended. He's not sure if he's offended at himself for being teleported or offended about it in general, but he's offended.

Other factors are empathy and poor impulse control. The offense simply can't linger in the face of someone or something needing a hand. Maybe it's helping a person up, helping them hobble their way to a safer space. Maybe it's trying to very quickly untie some horses before a tent fire can spread to their tethers. Maybe it's a couple of stealth-drop minor heals trying to keep a person from bleeding to death. It could even be hitting more things with his technically-stolen skillet.

(It's a different universe entirely, isn't it? Technically, he hasn't been given be-all, end-all instructions about directly interfering with what's happening around him here.)

Truly, the world is everyone's oyster.

The point remains. Catch these anxious (helping) hands. Or direct them to somewhere that could use them. He is dumb and nice and maybe a little bit thrown by the fact that somehow this day is even weirder than the literal apocalypse he was just busy with. ]


e.

[ and wildcard! For any in-between type prompts or post-running Heartstone hangout content. Feel free to hit me at comatoseroses to hash out ideas. ]

c1.

[zerg_rush]

[The flicker of recollection shouldn't be so frightening—a little redheaded girl, old enough to perhaps be learning the times tables or wondering why English spelling has to be the way that it is, glares up at a hard-faced man in military fatigues decorated with insignia no one from Earth would recognize, save for one shoulder sporting an anachronistic Confederate battle flag—but it's saturated with fear and anger and a grim, unshakable resolution that for a moment make the memory more real than the world around them. Stuff like that happens when a telepath freaks out. Sorry.

The Holy Frying Pan (blessed be its cast iron) breaks the Nightrender's hold, and Kerrigan snaps back to the present to hear a mild-voiced man saying something in an apologetic tone. The content doesn't register, but it (and the holiness radiating off him like sanctity from an ange—uh, never mind) makes her subconscious mark him as no threat, and with one of those kung fu movie maneuvers that only the appallingly athletic can manage she's on her feet, squaring off with the Nightrender.

Did you know that even abominations anathema to the very soul are vulnerable to judo throws as long as they're basically humanoid? Neither did Kerrigan, but she's still pleased with the result. Following through the movement, she scoops her discarded and apparently useless rifle from the grass and whirls on Aziraphale, long red ponytail still swinging with the motion after the rest of her has stopped, her eyes slicing into him for a moment. It's the same implacable stare as the little redhead in the memory, but after a fraction of a second, it softens.

He seems nice.]

That was you? Great, thanks, time to go.

[With her free hand, she grabs for his wrist, ready to haul him off behind her as she sprints away from an enemy she can't kill.]

OOC: Kerrigan's telepathy permissions, but I'm taking what I assume is the uncontroversial position that a literal archangel casting holy spells comes across as safe to a telepath.

[oldbookshop]

[ It's probably not the most angelic thing, being a little bit pleased to watch a human judo flip a nightmarish monstrosity. Then again, he has very recently admitted that he's rubbish, as angels go. So maybe that balances out.

Mostly it's nice to see there are other effective measures on the docket. Weighs against some of the inherent guilt of seeing these memory flashes by dint of proximity. On the grand scale, this level of intrusion versus watching someone's soul get sucked out is clearly the lesser of two evils, but that's never stopped Aziraphale from feeling guilty before.

It's such an odd thing, every time it happens. The fear or anger or grief or shame all in retrospect, all sort of fixed where they are in time. No context, usually. Nothing he can, perhaps ill-advisedly, attempt to ease.

Aziraphale doesn't much care for that.

(There is-- in the mysterious call-and-response way that seems to shadow interacting with people around the Nightrenders-- a flash of memory of his own, if one that's less overwhelming in its projection. A glowing head that fills most of the open space in the room, saying "the point is not to avoid the war. The point is to win it." The feeling of being blindsided by absolutely crushing disappointment.

Aziraphale has a cunning plan to simply not acknowledge that this memory exchange has ever happened, ever. Pardoning one rough exhale in its wake, he buttons that all up like it's his job.)

Still.

What a time to be relieved that the day did not solely come down to how hard he could hit something with a frying pan at his current power level. ]

High time, I'd say.

[ He doesn't put up any resistance to getting towed along. This has been a wild day in general and the fact that he's had to do more running in the past hour than he's had to do in six thousand years is contributing. If things weren't so spooky, they might be novel. ]

cw: child soldiers (kerrigan's backstory is hilariously terrible)

[zerg_rush]

[Kerrigan agrees with the giant disembodied glowing head. The enormous rifle and the body armor studded with knife sheaths and ammo magazines might suggest that, if Aziraphale is paying attention. It's not that she craves violence for its own sake—it's just that she's so jaded she doesn't think avoiding it is possible. That's the sort of worldview you develop when you're abducted by the military-industrial complex at age 8.

Unless he's hiding some serious leg muscles under that charmingly dated suit, Kerrigan has to slow her pace to keep 'dragged along' from being a literal description of Aziraphale's progress, which is not the margin of safety she'd prefer when fleeing something she can't kill.]

Would that frying pan keep working as well if you handed it off to me?

[She can sense something different about it, but lacks the vocabulary or indeed the worldview to distinguish between concepts like holy and cursed.]

pours one out for kerrigan

[oldbookshop]

[ Her slowed pace is a kindness, because he is sadly hiding normal leg muscles under the charmingly dated suit. Aziraphale already misses the buff of not really having to worry about physical issues if he doesn't really want to in these trying times.

Well, these very specific in the moment trying times. He's reserving a tentative future time slot to be terrified about what it means for if everyone survives and escapes to safety. For now, practicality has to be in the driver's seat. ]

Ah-- very good question. [ Aziraphale squints down at it for half a moment, feeling things out as best he can. Normally it would pretty much be blessed as long as he wanted. He did a thermos of holy water and it kept for half a century, no problem. Things work differently all of a sudden. He expects he'll have to go through the process of learning to keep that in mind. ] No reason why it shouldn't. It's only got a few minutes either way, though, so we'd best get a wiggle on.

[ What we have here is zero hesitation in holding the frying pan out for her to take. ]

[zerg_rush]

Good.

[Kerrigan hefts the thing, testing the weight and balance, trying to separate the odd but reassuring supernatural feeling that suffuses it from the normal reassuring feeling of being effectively armed.]

Keep going. I'll catch up.

[She stops, spins, and resumes sprinting, this time towards the pursuing Nightrender. Focused on the task at hand, she pushes thoughts of Aziraphale out of her mind. Either he's capable of following directions or he isn't, and she'll find out which it is soon enough.]

[oldbookshop]

What-

[ Things he somehow did not expect: for a person to do this even though they specifically made mention of using that holiest of improvised weapons. That's on him, honestly. He's met a few people here. Most of them had energy on this exact level.

Aziraphale is perfectly capable of following instructions. He is presently opting not to, although not being much of a runner, he doesn't expect he'll keep pace long or make up lost ground. It's the mildly-offended principle of the thing. ]

Young lady-- the point of buying time was for this escape to be mutual!

[zerg_rush]

[No one calls her "young lady," but Kerrigan's too focused on the task at hand to roll her eyes exactly like a teenager would.]

You're not a fighter!

[She punctuates that with a two-handed skillet swing at the pursuing Nightrender. The edge of the pan (concentrates the force better than the flat would, you see) connects with the thing's head, the strength of the blow enough to shatter bone and drop a human instantly. Sadly, the Nightrender only staggers and screeches, but the timbre of the sound suggests pain.]

I am!

[Reversing her grip on the pan, Kerrigan follows up her advantage, slamming the handle into the creature's empty eye socket under the theory that'd hurt anyone, one hand on the far rim of the skillet steadying it and preventing the Nightrender from knocking it free. She's rewarded with another howl, and its claws scrabble harmlessly against her armored suit as she forces it backwards.]

[oldbookshop]

If I am anything, it's a conscientious objector. I'm conscientiously objecting!

[ It's reasonable!!! Source: his personal opinion.

Aziraphale is neither pushy nor foolish enough to try to physically pull Kerrigan back at this juncture, but he is exactly foolish enough to not let that stop him from trying to put his foot down.

Humans.

He loves them. Foolhardiness included. He does rather like them alive. ]

If you would very kindly retreat and divert your energy towards escorting some of these groups through the forest instead-

[ Which he thinks sounds very hip and reasonable. Aziraphale is just here to be some level of nuisance, apparently. ]

[zerg_rush]

[Did it occur to Aziraphale that she can outdistance these things and was buying him time?]

What the hell is a conscientious objector?

[They don't have those in the Confederacy and she doesn't know what he's objecting to or why his conscience has anything to do with it.

Kerrigan keeps her eyes on the Nightrender, which is not acting as though it's enjoying itself, and she has to contort in an awkward sort of lean-duck to keep a set of claws from raking across her face. She still has a blessed frying pan handle lodged in its eye socket, and she uses the leverage for a hip throw, tossing the creature face-down on the grass in front of her. Slapping the skillet on the center of its back like she thinks demonic clockwork nightmares can substitute for a hot plate, she plants a foot in the middle of the pan and bears down with all her weight.

It screeches the requisite unholy screech of the damned, sounding enough like a zerg that for a moment she's back at New Gettysburg, out of ammo with the zerg closing in all around her.

OOC: Cutscene! CW: Gross sci-fi space bug fight ig.]

c2

[konman]

Hey! You over there! Uh, blonde guy! With the frying pan!

[The young man that calls out to him to is brawny and looks like he's been through the wringer. He looks like exactly what he is: someone that doesn't plan to leave until this place is mostly evacuated or until it's the only alternative to death.]

[So his face is streaked with soot from holding up part of a fallen tent that was on fire. His clothes are slashed from multiple altercations with Nightrenders as he fended off attacks or distracted them so someone else could run. The knees of his jeans are covered in mud from the times he knelt down to help someone hurt, and there are multiple blood smears on his clothes that are his - and many that aren't because he'd helped with some field first aid with the injured.]

[Kon is over with someone pinned under one of the heavier beams that was used to hold up one of the few larger tents. A young man is on the ground with his leg pinned under it, moaning.]

I can lift this, but I'm only going to be able to just lift it up a little. Can you pull him out of the way when I do? He's hurt pretty bad, he's going to have trouble moving on his own.

[He reaches down to get a good grip on it, ready to dead lift it the second Aziraphale is ready.]

[At this point, most of the faire has cleared out, which means less targets for the monsters to chase. Many of the stragglers are struggling with visions, or injured, or trapped, or cornered, or screaming for missing loved ones. Faeries are still trying to help them, too, but the place is a mess, and they also need to defend the crowds they're moving away.]

[Kon's uninjured, clearly functioning regardless of any visions or not, and not looking for anyone. He's just refusing to leave yet.]

[Ma Kent has told him before that anytime she needs a little extra hope in humanity, in times of disaster, she looks for the helpers. It's fairly obvious Kon is one of them.]

[oldbookshop]

[ Another day, another viable defense for making very distinctive fashion choices. Although he didn't choose or bother with changing his corporation's hair color and the frying pan is more of a weapon, so maybe fashion isn't quite the right word. Thoughts for later.

That odd pull to head in one particular direction hasn't gotten any more or less intense, which he expects means it stands to reason that it won't go anywhere if he's a bit of a straggler. The reasons to help and the reasoning that there's no real reason not to help really outweigh any hypothetical... reasons... not to help.

So here Aziraphale lingers, far more disheveled than he'd normally allow, certainly more tired than he's ever allowed, but equally uninjured for his part. Given that there are still very clearly things he can do, he'd like to think lingering was the right choice. Case in point: this.

So more another day, another very good reason to (even temporarily) ditch a weapon and hurry towards a different way to contribute. He sort of prefers it that way. ]

Yes, I've got him. Whenever you're ready.

[ Poor thing. He's awfully young.

Well.

Most of the people Aziraphale's met here have seemed awfully young, if he thinks about it. He's opting not to do that yet, given the urgency at hand. ]

[konman]

[He manages to lift the beam, quite the feat without superstrength and holds it high enough and steady enough for Aziraphale to safely pull the guy out.]

Now!

[oldbookshop]

[ The nature of sentience is to be glad someone is around who can lift heavy beams and yet still disappointed that so many people got kidnapped via ancient forest. This is simply the current state of life.

Gift horses and all that, though.

Aziraphale dutifully hooks the man under the arms and gives him a good old-fashioned hauling back. There are times when being very gentle with an injured party and not moving them too much is the better response. This is not one such time, so he does a proper job of it. Then, after making a quick check for safety's sake-- ​]

All clear! [ At which point he turns the majority of his attention to the injured man's leg. Between navigating the chaos trying to assist people in the general sense and the frustrating ongoing strain of using his limited powers, there's only so much he thinks that he can do. Can't let that stop him from trying, though, surely. He must have at least one left in him.

He does keep an ear open just in case this other young man has trouble with his tent-dropping. ]

There, safe as houses, hm? We'll get you sorted.