most consequential choices involve shades of gray

[amourpropre]

Who: Erik Lehnsherr, Lucius Malfoy (Sr) and Tadhg MacEibhir
What: Discoveries are made where things are concealed, for fun and profit.
Where: South of the city.
When: Newdi morning (and slightly backdated).

It's difficult to explain to the uninitiated what one should expect from these adventures. Each time Lucius has gone, it's been a little different. A scavenger hunt of trinkets through to warfare with dinosaurs. Upon explanation, primarily to Mr. MacEibhir, he might not have properly accounted for this, and next time may just leave it at: if you have particular expectations, I suggest you leave them behind.

For one thing, Lucius expects danger, but the shape looming ahead of them, seen hazy through windshield and fog, is not the kind of threat that accounts for the defensive charms he has attempted to put on the now serviceable vehicle. It is passive, large, stagnant as a building.

They've been driving for a while. Erik behind the wheel and Lucius has taken his seat in the back, sitting stiffly in a way that is less about posture, more about lacking trust in the metal cage on wheels he tolerates for the sake of these trips. Taking the vehicle out from where it's shacked up in secondhand barn building, headed out further south and into what was almost a wall of dense fog, preternatural in its lingering. Visibility was lost by the time they'd passed their last pasture fence, rumbling over terrain that degenerates from road to trodden packed earth. Lucius is a quiet participant, and if he is leading this expedition beyond simply organising it, then he is doing so with.

Subtlety. Or apathy.

No robes, either. Trousers, a shirt, although his coat involves a lot of fabric, granted. His only weapon, which may seem queer to some in the car but expected for others, is the black and silver polished cane he currently has balanced across his knees, hands rested on it primly. If he usually wears rings, he doesn't today.

Ahead, the sprawling shape is a dark shadow in all the whiteness, laid across their path, man-made angles. Lucius won't see it first, preoccupied with his side of the scenery, where the sun burns from the east, struggling through the encompassing fog.

Comments

[magnetic]

Erik will absolutely interfere, if only because the creature is attacking Tadhg rather than the reverse. None of them (presumably) have any idea what this thing is capable of doing, after all, apart from the usual things one may do with a mouth so hideous, with clawed limbs worthy of a Jabberwocky's envy.
(Is there a Jabberwocky in Baedal? There'd better not be.)

A guttural sound of effort announces his involvement, which comes in the form of eight or nine steel railroad spikes, airborne with the intent to intercept the beast's hideous body mid-leap. Each spike is about eight inches long, sharpened nearly to the point of unfairness, and notched once each to make removal more difficult—never mind what he may yet do to their shapes should they become lodged in the aberration's flesh.

There are more of these in the truck bed, too, awaiting their turn. He came well equipped this time.

[gifted_hands]

Tadhg will admire the elegant simplicity of Erik's attack, just as soon as he can afford to shift his focus from the hellspawn currently intent on rending him to bits.

Even as the beast pushes off from the carriage, Tadhg shouts a single word in Fae and launches his knife on an intercept course. Fine lines of power course along the etching worked into the blade, primed to sear through whatever flesh it enters like a lightning strike. Unless the thing can change course in mid-air, the knife should strike one of its eyes, or just under them in the intersection of two of its legs.

He takes one step forward and braces his sword in both hands, angling it in an effort to impale the creature through that toothy aperture with the force of its own attack. Poised on his tongue is another word that will deliver an even more powerful bolt through his sword, just as soon as it penetrates.

[amourpropre]

A lot of sharp things are coming its way.

Metal screams through the air, but the pitching wail of pain that strikes it, clear as a bell, is not the same thing - it's a girl's scream, wrenching and ragged, and by the time the monster has been stopped, something else has happened. The multi-limbed creature of ugliness is gone, and in place is a smaller figure, dressed down to little more than a white frock that is quickly becoming red, with four naked limbs and a lolling head.

The girl bounces off the side of the carriage and crumples like a doll. Blood streaks her legs from thighs to ankles and spatters on her arms. A railroad spike is driven through her thigh, one into her ribcage, another in her gut, and the others have disappeared (although not from Erik's senses).

Her face, though, where Tadhg's knife struck strew, has been torn. An eye is a gory mess, a hole of red and black, and the searing edge of the magically charred knife ripples her skin down to her top lip, making her unrecognisable. Except that she isn't, not to Tadhg, because of course he can visualise what his little girl Caoimhe looks like. To Lucius and Erik, she is just a girl. One that can't be older than five.

"Specialis Revelio," is quietly and almost coldly uttered by Lucius, the sound of his wand cutting the air in a sharp and almost dismissive flick, as if one were pulling aside a curtain. The cloaking illusion lifts a moment, showing the twitching, mangled creature embedded with eight or nine steel spikes puncturing through its strange body, its black eye collapsed, and its mouth snapping soundlessly.

The girl's mournful cry catches on the wind, the illusion fighting back.

[magnetic]

The beasts in this terrible vast place are not kind enough to make any one of their psychological attacks less than poignant, Erik believes, and so the idea that this is just a girl does not even enter his mind. It's not his Anya screaming this time—for which he is immensely grateful, however selfish that is—so she must belong to someone.

Now that the creature has been rendered immobile, Erik collects himself into a less aggressive stance and gives his hair a little flip back from his forehead, his respirator emitting tinny, panting breaths. He looks to Lucius first, sees no evidence of recognition at a glance, and so moves on to Tadhg...

[gifted_hands]

For five of the most horrible seconds of his life, Tadhg believes, though the anguished huff of breath forced from his lungs is lost underneath the screaming of a too-familiar voice. His ability to see life energies allows him to see through most illusions, but this one duplicates Caoimhe exactly, patterns included. When Malfoy's spell disrupts the mirage, Tadhg's lips slowly curl in a snarl of cold fury.

The beast could have drawn such a detailed image from only one place in all of Baedal.

Growling his own spell in Fae, Tadhg uses his right hand to press the medallion under his shirt against his chest, hard enough to leave an imprint. Yes. Rather than disrupting the illusion, he can now see its connections to the creature wearing it, and can just make out the beast itself. Sufficient for his purposes.

What his intentions are becomes clear as he rises and strides toward the thing, face set and chill. His body flickers and flows, shimmering whitely into the shape of a muscular, dark grey stallion...a stallion holding a sword between his teeth. Tadhg rears and brings his fore-hooves down as hard as he can, one on either side of those gnashing teeth. A bellow of challenge tears from his throat.

[amourpropre]

[ OOC: HI SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ]

Merlin--

The elm point of his wand goes skyward as Lucius flicks it away and takes quite a definite step back by the time Tadhg is making his transformation, pale eyes flaring wide. Though the fact that the man is magical registers as no surprise to a wizard (and one who was informed ahead of time), it's still something of a shock enough to make him hesitate and glance Erik's way.

Probably, it's time to leave.

The monster twists and writhes with disrupted shape flickering over its body; one blink, it's the same little girl, and the next, it's the tortured beast crippled by the metal spikes and the work done by the knife.

By the time Tadhg's hooves are finding flesh, it lets out one last whine as rubbery muscle twists and tears against breaking bones, arcs of black blood jetting and spattering on the floor, the train, the large grey stallion that stands over it. The fog is otherwise oppressively silent.

[magnetic]

Erik shares Malfoy's surprise, it seems, as the pair's eyes meet almost in unison.

Well. That answers that, then.

A moment later, Erik's squinting against the fog—it occurs to him only now that he should have brought some sort of eyewear, god damn it, it's probably absorbing through his eyes—to give this spectacle the moment of attention it deserves. Only a moment, mind. Tadhg may not even have finished savaging the creature before Erik says, already turning away from the train and the gory business over yonder to head for the truck's cab, "What else are we taking?"

Besides whatever's left of this hideousness, he means. (He's going back for mason jars.)

[gifted_hands]

The instant Tadhg sees the monster's life energies darkening, the savaging stops as if someone had flipped a switch. He steps back from the bloody form with a thrumming snort, rears, and allows his body to dissolve and contract back into his two-legged form. The corpse is still more or less in one piece, mangled at the center though that piece may be.

He looks over his shoulder at Erik's question. "Whatever's handy, I should presume." No human being should ever sound so contained after trampling anything that looked like his only child to death, but then as he's just amply demonstrated, Tadhg isn't human. The uncanny calm has returned, as if the rage belonged entirely to the stallion, and has now been released.

Something implacable and chill glints in his eyes, though, as he angles his head toward the carriage from which the beast emerged. "I can search this car, if you don't mind taking the other, Malfoy. Unless you gentlemen have another recommendation."

Sword at the ready in one hand, Tadhg kneels to reclaim his knife with the other. Glancing down at the state of his boots and jeans as he straightens, he shrugs and wipes the knife clean on one thigh before resheathing it. A little more gore can't make much difference at this point.

[amourpropre]

Lucius is the man left standing when it comes to eyeing off Tadhg and the situation in general, which is ludicrous considering he is the middle-aged long-haired Wizard, clutching a magic wand, with fog wisping around the hems of his cloak. But it doesn't last for long, anyway, turning his attention around at Erik to see how he is progressing, before glancing back to Tadhg, then down at the mess that was the attacking monster.

It oozes, but has otherwise nothing to say on the matter.

Let's all just crack on, then.

"Quite," he says, moving once more towards the train car he had been perusing before the structure had been compromised. "Whatever it suits you to take. The carriage boasts some partially eaten remains," and hasn't that mystery been solved, "but never mind them." A glance to the fairy and the gore that stains his clothing and weaponry follows a raise of an eyebrow. "Not that I think you will."

He levers himself back inside without another word. Through the fog, the sun moves on imperceptibly.