multiversallogs | then the riddle gets solved and you push me up to this

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then the riddle gets solved and you push me up to this

Who: ~~Bruce~~ Tom & Seoraj.
What: Camping, completely free of ulterior ~~alibi~~ motive.
Where: North of Flag Hill.
When: Beginning roughly on the 30th.
Warnings: Weirdness, violence, sexuality.

They leave early, because that's the tradition of camping - before dawn, as they have to make it up to the northern edge of the city proper first ("'Morning-") - the provisional shops built into the cliff face that hosts the treacherous ways up into the forests are helpful, the proprietors less so; that they generally profit off fools isn't anything they keep quiet. Bruce isn't bothered. Cold morning air and physical exertion with dirt under his hands makes some far-off part of him feel at peace.

It's just starting to become properly bright out when they reach the summit that'll lead them into the woods, and he takes a moment to stop and look out over the view of the city. Up here it's quiet, but not silent - it's not an absence of sound, but an absence of people, and looking down on Baedal from the vantage point of the highest natural point in the only landscape they have available makes it feel like another world.

Remarkable.

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"You sure you've been in a forest before?" ... In a skirt? Carrying an ax doesn't make you immune to sharp sticks poison oak, Seoraj.

But it's in a mirrored tone - well, for Bruce. Joking, detectable by the fact that he's speaking at all and not doing so with an unkind tone. (If he was the sort of person to consciously note things of this nature, he might reflect on the fact that he rarely gets mileage out of these kinds of exchanges outside Alfred and Enfys.)

Look at those boots and wraps, you wish you had this kind of swag, Bruce. Presumably this is why Seoraj chuckles, moving to fall in step so they can continue, the view having been by now sufficiently appreciated. The truth is that he's too curious not to continue, now, about both the man and what he's up to. 'Walking past' has never been something he's got the knack for, even if he mastered 'walking away' pretty young.

(The distinction is subtle.)

"Caught one of the clan boys in a tree trap once, in a forest," he reminisces, fondly. "Not intentionally, mind, and the girls were red as anything when they came to fetch someone to get Langler down."

Advancements have been made on things to wrap around your legs to protect them. They're called trousers. (Some tiny voice, somewhere, asks why is anyone protesting this?)

Also Batman doesn't need swag.

The tree canopy is thick, and the proper line of the wilds in the distance threatens pitch-black traveling even at high noon, but for now, Bruce leads them slightly eastward. They've no map, and he's only got a vague idea of where to go, but that vague idea is as much as anyone in the city as ever had in generations, if his research is to be believed. (And his research is always to be believed.)

"That's not the best sell for those things."

"Damn good argument for minding where you put your feet, though." Innit. At least, Langler never made the same mistake twice. (He misses the boys, sometimes more than others; probably they don't miss being routinely referred to as 'the boys' by someone not that much their senior.)

"I fell in a sinkhole once."

(It's an easier memory than one might expect.)

The terrain is rocky and uneven, plainly unsuited for human travel - no one goes up here except to skim over the land or creep into less harsh corners. Bruce navigates it with an almost irritating ease, displaying a familiarity that is almost comically at odds with the technical desk job he maintains in Baedal. It's half hiking and half rock-climbing, but at least they can see. The hard part is going to be when they have to go down again - because Bruce is looking for a slim ravine, and surely, that'll be endless fun.

Seoraj doesn't have the same mountain goat instincts as Bruce is evidently working with, but he doesn't fall far behind, either; there's something almost like release in getting away from the city, in being pushed to work. He feels more like himself when he's straining, when the strange sounds he's begun to become accustomed to are distant to his ears and his hands are carrying new calluses.

Though Bruce is inherently something of a spiritually extreme homebody - a man content to devote himself to a single city, to become the avatar of that city - part of him will always still love travel and the whole world itself dearly. Sometimes he sees how easily he's integrated into Baedal and knows that it's a trap; coming up onto the mountain is as much an exercise in something that he needs to get done as it is a moment to clear his head.

The work to get where they're going is ridiculous, but at least it isn't hot out, not even with the elevation. That doesn't mean it isn't brutal, though, and even Bruce slips once, but he manages to catch himself with a bemused kind of happy accident. Once they're clear of most of the rocks and into the trees, they face another kind of careful work, having to keep quiet and alert. At one point they pass a massive, lizard-like beast; Bruce would call it a dragon, confined as he is to Earth-based terms, and though it seems docile as it grazes through the trees, he's not in a hurry to test if it just hasn't noticed them or not.

Strange birds and other little creatures that slink away from the edges of their vision lurk, chitter, scare away and sometimes peer at them as they go, and deep into the trees in the distance, something very big cries out. Unsettling.

The clearing is unexpected - its existence and the sheer size of it. Bruce comments that no one he's talked to mentioned anything like a plateau, but it's vibrant green and grassy, interspersed with large rocks and the occasionally strange-leafed tree. Far away, nearly on the horizon, structures loom, outlined against more cliffs and trees. It's hard to tell if they're structures, or something else. About a hundred yards away, another of the lizard-creatures is nosing about in the weeds, this one much larger than the one they edged around earlier; it has a great metal ring about its head, bars stuck through its neck like bicycle wheel spokes.

Bruce doesn't lead them more than a few yards into the clearing proper - it's dangerous out in the open, and they're practically helpless deer, in this place.

(Seoraj would call it a dragon, too, although frankly when he catches sight of it terminology is not the first thing that crosses his mind. Or the second, given the apology into the ether to his mother for not forgetting that word she accidentally taught him when she burned her hand.)

The larger of these two helpless deer shades his eyes against the unexpected brightness when they reach it - it isn't, really, but trees had shaded their ascent just enough that his eyes need a moment to adjust and he has to fight not to tense against it, instinctive objection to anything that might slow reaction time. It's a fair concern, he feels, given what one might call the implication of possible-structures and a great metal ring that he might call deliberate around that creature's head and neck. He has the vague sinking feeling that wherever they're going is going to involve whatever's capable of putting it there on principle of sod's law.

On the other hand, he'd been beginning to get restless down in the city. This'll learn him, he thinks, rueful, and keeps near the trees.

For his part, Bruce is trying to decide several things - first, if they can get anywhere secure without having to engage any of the wildlife, and second, if that metal ring there looks like it's grown in or like someone put it there. He shifts his weight, takes one step backwards onto a rock and hoists himself up a little higher, narrowing his eyes as he takes in the plateau, then drops back down with an edge of graceful effortlessness.

Whichever way they go, there's not much cover. They could stay and see if the dragon-thing moves, but waiting around like morons doesn't suit Bruce much. If they're gonna get eaten, he'd rather just go for it instead of hanging about and letting their adrenaline and momentum evaporate.

Then, quietly-

"It's grazing."

There are no other living things (that he can see) anywhere out in the vast clearing, which is worrying, but from here, it looks like the creature is actually eating patches of knee-high grass.

... Which doesn't mean it can't just be a person-eating monster with a varied diet, but a grass-eating dragon has more chances of actually being a dragon-cow versus a blood thirsty ravenous beast. Right? He shoots Seoraj a glance, as if asking him if he's on the same page mentally.

The passing thought that he is not a fucking farmer strikes Seoraj as really hilarious when they are dealing with a dragon (...cow, possibly), but under the circumstances he keeps that to himself (with great effort; for as mild as he is, he does still manage to be constantly sassing the world) and settles on, "Don't fancy seeing what they herd it with, do you?"

Which is also his opinion on the matter of whether or not that metal ring was put there by someone.

"Magnets?" Tiny, harmless peaceful people, with magnets? Sure. That's likely.

Another heartbeat of consideration and Bruce sets off, picking to forge a trail towards the east, curving around in the direction they've been heading; it morphs back into less flat terrain northward sooner on that side. It's going to be a several mile walk, Bruce can already tell, but it's flatland and even with the company of the hopefully-herbivore-dragon to their left, it'll be simple compared to the hiking they've just done.

On their way, Bruce keeps quiet, listening and watching - there are insects, the occasional brightly-colored snake, and odd, but not terribly prominent, tracks through the grass. Nothing looks stepped-on, but bent oddly here and there. He can't figure out what it might be.

An hour into it and they're in the flatlands properly, the breeze picks up around them - it's pleasant for a few minutes, but then the lingering feeling of 'miiight not be great' catches up just in time to hear a great, unsettling grunting noise, and the sound of metal straining.

They've been noticed.

Without changing his pace, Bruce continues to walk, turning his head to watch the dragon as he does so. For a second it just stares at them, sniffing the air, long tail drifting behind it absently. Then it takes one step forward, almost lazy - then another. And another. Even unhurried, the sheer length of its stride proves in one very bracing heartbeat that there's absolutely no way they can bolt and have anything come of it - despite being a goddamn mile away from them, if it kicked up into a sprint, it'd be on them in a minute flat.

Continuing to walk doesn't seem to deter the thing, so-

Bruce just. Stops.

And turns to stare at it.

"..Don't.. seem nervous."

Uh.

Seoraj has never been a religious man, but he's an excessively pragmatic one and given that the local deities seem like the demonstrative sort, he takes a moment to issue a generalized prayer that this big fellow coming toward them is more cow, less dragon. (Can't hurt.)

It's conveniently something he doesn't need to move or speak to do, since doing either of those things seems kind of unwise as he stills beside Bruce, reluctant to look away from the oncoming beast but sparing a moment to assess whether anything else is taking advantage of the particularly fixed nature of their attention presently.

(Nothing, and he's not actually comforted by the notion of being alone with this dirty great thing.)

"Yeah, that's likely."

The ground shakes as it nears them, and the thing isn't even moving with any hurry in its steps. Jesus Christ. As it gets close Bruce can see how old the thing is, from the texture of its skin to the state of the rust and algae growth on the metal ring about its head - its head, which is the size of some small cars.

When its only meters away, it slows, peering with what he hopes is curiosity, and not hunger. All the same, Bruce moves one hand behind him and fusses with his pack, getting something out.

The dragon comes in close, taking in deep breaths through its nose, sniffing them. Bruce doesn't move - until it seems like its actually going to start to nudge Seoraj. And then he moves, a half-step to one side, and makes a soft attention-getting noise. The great thing swings its head back to Bruce (hopefully the blacksmith is quick enough to duck and miss getting smacked by the iron wheel-) who is holding out the bag of apples he had with him.

Intrigued, it leans over, and with far more delicacy than one might expect, takes the fruit from him and eats it... and then sits down, full-bodied, setting the ground to really shake for a second.

"There's that famed Baedal variety for you, then," Seoraj observes, not having yet actually straightened from his quick duck sideways, hands resting on his thighs. "Knew if we went far enough there'd be something out there what appreciates your unique charm."

For as much as he is just casually and reflexively as he tosses off that line in much the same way as someone else might feel the need to check they've still got all their fingers and toes, given the worrying possibility of alarming the monster (even just startling-- he doesn't fancy seeing what happens if it jumps up unexpectedly), his voice is pitched deliberately nonthreatening, like someone not unaccustomed to dealing with unruly wild animals.

(Bruce and the cowdragon.)

"So you're not coming to my Vault show after all?"

This, of course, is the perfect time to make that crack.

Bruce stays where he is, right in the dragon's immediate field of vision, and keeps his body language easy. No sudden movements, no abrupt changes in his demeanor. Just the nice weird thing that had some apples. ... While they figure this out. He takes the opportunity of being so close to the beast's head to really get a close look at the metal ring - something about it bothers him, unsettling in the same way an embedded collar in a dog would be, but he can't see how this works at all.

Something makes a soft, rusted 'click' kind of noise. He can't see what.

"I'm telling her you said that," Seoraj says, reflexively, which doesn't count as hiding behind Hasi's skirts when a) she probably won't be wearing any and b) he'd only be back there to look at her arse. Taking the time to make sure Bruce understands that he's going to be held to that and that he can anticipate a repeat performance of Seoraj and Hasi ganging up on him doesn't stop him from catching that click and reacting physically, an easy step back from the dragon and it isn't a threatening stance that he falls into but it's-- ready, loosely coiled rather than tense, prepared to move in whichever direction he's going to need to in the next few moments.

Sod's law is multiversal.

Bruce actually steps closer to the dragon, who begins to make something like a grumbling noise. Hm.

"That's fine, you'd be the only ones seeing it."

There's an ease to the way he does this sort of banter - maybe that should be alarming, him being so comfortable in situations like this. Whatever the hell 'like this' even is. There's a metallic hum emanating from the great spoke-rung collar, now, getting louder. The dragon stands up and makes a noise that sounds like it's pained, and otherwise seems to be ignoring them. The humming noise evens out, and a soft beeping begins - one in pitch and pattern Bruce recognizes instinctively. When the dragon begins backing away from the edges of the field where he noticed the most inexplicably trails, Bruce follows.

"It's an alarm system," he says, muted, nearly hissed and plainly irritated, and if Seoraj isn't picking up the pace here Bruce will grab his dang arm and crouch down, moving still but keeping under cover of the grass, walking in the imprints of the dragon's steps. Something begins to chitter in the distance, and tops of the grass begin to stir before strange, pale figures begin to rise up, walking on spindly, spider-like legs towards them.

Something about the notion of using the animal in this way is intensely unsettling in a way that Seoraj has trouble putting his finger on, and will reexamine later because right now he has the more immediate and pressing concern of how fast he can move and how quickly he thinks he can get to the knives he's carrying failing the advantage of speed.

Something about the fact Bruce sounds more irritated than concerned is more pleasantly familiar; he's heard that tone before, in equally dangerous situations that were less like something he'd previously only imagined experiencing on hallucinogens.

"You sure following it is smart?"

Note how he is not hesitating to do so.

Bruce just makes a noise that's probably akin to Yeah sure, but also a bit like There is no time to argue with me, so deal - the truth of it is, his logic here is that whatever has need of an alarm system expects the dragon to be in the field. If they only see the dragon, there's going to be less need for making a big show of things and searching. When the house-sized animal stops walking in the center of the clearing, resigned to its predicament, Bruce half-turns and looks at Seoraj - not for long. He ushers him (as ungently as he needs to) underneath the dragon itself and then follows, crouched, so that the both of them are as obscured by both the grass and the monster as they're going to be.

While being underneath a giant, old, warm and breathing animal is not the most pleasant experience (at least the grass smells nice?), it soon becomes apparent that it's preferable to dealing with whatever is coming to investigate the alarm. Oddly-shaped and unnatural limbs begin to appear through the grass, carrying bodies that can't be fully seen from their hiding place. The dragon shifts and moves every so often, and Bruce keeps moving with it, turning, dead silent and clearly aware in a keen way of exactly where everything around them is; every so often he wordlessly nudges Seoraj a bit, and if the younger man can catch what he's doing, it's adjusting their positions so that they fall at all times into the slimmest of angles where they can't be seen.

The things looking around don't seem terribly adept at tracking, and none of them appear confined to one form, so Bruce can't begin to guess what they even are, but the sounds they make at each other have the harsh tone of hostility. One of them, spider-like, marches around the dragon, then further away, circling.

Ducking under the belly of the beast is a memorable experience; Seoraj is pretty sure that he's going to be smelling dragon balls for the next two days (which he assesses a moment later as optimism, given that they're still on the first leg of the journey and if this is setting the tone then goddamn), but on the other hand, at least it's warm. He could be under a dragon, stalked by patchwork monsters, and freezing his nipples into engraving tools-- it can always be worse.

For instance, he could be slower on the uptake about move in this direction and one of those wrong-limbed things could be better at tracking. They're blind, he thinks from the glimpses he catches, but that raises the worrying question of which senses they're relying on instead; times like these you're grateful for an overpowering stench. He doesn't relax, quite, as their circling search begins to spiral outward from the dragon and further away - he's not stupid - but he keeps it in mind, the limitations of those nightmares.

It's not practically useful information; contextualizing them turns that instinctive fear of the too wrong and too strange into something manageable.

That these things aren't seeing very well occurs to Bruce as well, judging on how they're moving about - almost nervously, a lot of careful poking and listening; as unpleasant as their vantage point is, the great animal is obscuring the scent and sound of them. Once they get far away enough, he risks dropping down lower, so that he can watch them better.

'Patchwork' is a good word. He's taken aback, for a moment, not quite sure what he's looking at - all of them are different, none of them formed the same way, as if melded together by accident. But they're already too far away for him to make any solid decisions about - at least it seems like they've decided it was a false alarm or something that got eaten by their pet alarm dragon, because they're all heading back the way they came, uncannily leaving little in the way of a trail, picking too carefully through the grass on tall spike-ended legs.

Just as they're nearly out of sight, Bruce makes ready to bolt again - he remembers in the nick of time to make sure Seoraj is paying attention, and the fact that he isn't used to working with anyone else is probably painfully obvious by now - and then does, staying low, moving quick and quiet after them. They're all heading in the direction they were going to begin with.

Which certainly bodes well.

If Seoraj had still been harboring any suspicions of a military background on Bruce's part - he's not - the way he's visibly reminding himself of two instead of one would've put paid to it. Seoraj, though, falls easily into working in tandem; playing well with others is what he's trained to do, he's the dead opposite in that he has more difficulty when he doesn't have someone else to account for and rely on. Trust is key, which is the part of this exercise that makes him more immediately uneasy than spiderwalking stitched-together horrors; it isn't that he doesn't trust Bruce (he does), but that he recognizes the distance the other man has for (almost) what it is and if they need to rely on each other out here, will he?

The way Seoraj figures it, moving towards the ravine, there's only one way to find out.

Fortunately for the both of them, Bruce is a fast learner.

The light is beginning to fade, and this far back into the wilds, it'll probably be going fast. Bruce doesn't want them to be stuck out in the open when night falls and sticks - if those things can't see to begin with, then they don't have the handicap that the two humans will in the dark. He drops back down when they near the edge of the ravine, so that he can get to the edge and look over without being so obvious. There's no trace of their patchwork friends, which leaves him faintly annoyed. So they live down there, and can move with much more efficiency in their rocky homes. That just figures.

"Can you rock climb?"

... What, they weren't already doing that? Bruce sits up and starts pulling a few things out of his pack, eying the ravine, sketching out a plan in his head already.

"Haven't broke my neck yet." Necessity is the mother of not only invention but also new skills, where 'skill' means 'capability sufficient to avoid the breaking of one's neck'; the sort of things you practise while someone is firing arrows at you are the sort of things you get the hang of quickly, or not. Seoraj is mentally applying much the same principle to the dangers of Baedal-- you adjust or you don't, and it's on you, champ.

He squints down the ravine, crouched, to get a better estimate of just how difficult this is going to be (not impossible but not pleasant, either, scaling up for the addition of spindly things from Tim Burton's acid-trip love affair with M.C. Escher).

Bruce sets up the rappel chord easily, and anchors it as best he can, while giving the ravine below them the closest look he can manage. It's got 'bad idea' written all over it, but at least it's just a general bad idea and not 'immediately fatal idea'. He'll deal. He clips the line to his belt and looks at Seoraj.

"You're spotting me. Keep an eye out."

It's a good thing Bruce is actually a goddamn ninja.

Wasting no time, he slides down the side, and begins to figure out if they're going to be able to swing this. (No pun intended.)

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