"We can't let them get the rest of these," you decide. "Especially not if they're here for the thing I just thought of."
"Which is?" Flitter asks, as she starts to summon her witchflames and prepare for a fight.
"Smashing all the kegs, burning all the food, and destroying all of the supplies."
"...FUCK," your friend shouts, after a moment to think about it. She zips to keep up with you as you sprint for the alarm in the Inner Ring.
"Battle stations!" you yell. "This is not a drill! We're under attack!"
One of the Warehouse residents, with more wherewithal than the others, shouts "From where?"
"CORNUCOPIA ENTRANCE!" you and Flitter yell at the same time.
You hear the sounds of battle joining in the Roost; the screech of the harpies is distinctive, as is the rolling toll of quiet from Silence's bell. For better or worse, the battle there is joined.
"Most of the supplies are down below," Flitter reasons.
"They'll secure an entrance first," you tell her. "The Librarian is nothing if he's not methodical. Here, watch my back."
Flitter turns to face the hallway as you start to work the alarm, cranking it furiously. You've been on the other side for less than a month and you're already fighting for you life. Ain't this a bitch.
"Jaaaack," Flitter calls, worriedly. "How do I fight these?"
"Go for the eyes and gears," you tell her, turning from the alarm to see three of the looming geargrinders, their bodies clad in plate that's been bolted to their frames. The one in the lead has a personal crest - a descending sword - stamped into his (well, sort of), chest plate.
"Cobalt," you say, evenly.
"Jack," he returns, his mechanical voice muffled by his armor.
"I can't help but notice you're heading for the Center Ring," you tell him, your hand reaching for the open mouth of the Six Demon Bag.
"I can't help but notice that you're a lowly traitor and oath-breaker, every bit the unreliable coward that Father said you are."