synergismus: (Default)
A Shadowy Cabal (Mod Acct) ([personal profile] synergismus) wrote in [community profile] multiversallogs2011-05-27 08:05 pm

plot } the creatures descend.

Who: Everyone!
What: Creatures descend!
Where: All across the city, although attacks will be most fervent at its heart.
When: Friday/Veerdi evening and into the week.
Notes: Slow and back-tagging is, as always, permitted. If you are confused, look at these two posts for more information.
Warnings: Violence, creepiness, swearing knowing these characters.
On Veerdi, the presence of the creatures reaches a fever pitch. Something has provoked them into launching an all-out assault, though it is one that begins slowly. The pipe-crawlers, generally harmless though they may be, are seen across homes in Baedal, sneaking up through the pipes and into bathtub drains or sinks. They come by the dozens, and their keening makes most homeowners nauseated--but it's their appearance that leads to a number of distressed Network calls.

This is just the distraction for the rest.

The call of the crawlers draws in the armored, sickly creatures with the tiny primates carried inside of it. They are inelegantly lumbering, but much faster than one might expect, and certainly hostile. They trudge across the city, barreling over anyone who gets in their path and leaving them half-crushed in the street. They're certainly unsettling in their obvious unhealthiness, and the disease-ridden animals they carry are downright vicious, especially once they escape (messily, bloodily) from their fleshy cage.

It's the birds that are the worst, though; the cleverest, and the cruelest.

These strange black birds are resistant to typical attacks and flying in large groups. They descend on pedestrians, picking at their eyes and faces, ready to rapidly tear flesh from bone until there's nothing left but skeletal remains. They fly out of range when they can, only to divebomb anyone who might think they've escaped.

[identity profile] manipulativni.livejournal.com 2011-05-30 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
Katherine's face shifts back to normal, and she's pleased to hear Ilde's suggestion. She smiles and accepts her offer with a single nod, then turns back to face the street, where she spots a small heard of them coming on fast.

"They're on their way."

[identity profile] ofminastirith.livejournal.com 2011-05-30 06:21 am (UTC)(link)
Boromir is unfamiliar with a gun, but he's aware that this city, and many of its inhabitant, have more advanced technology than the kind found in Middle Earth. He regards the man who has appeared to the side of him (good aim) and nods. "It serves its purpose," although it's said with a hint of fondness, since it has some sentimental value.

When Cassandra appears he is already on the lookout for more creatures, eyes darting around the street. Finally, he turns to the two of them and gives a slight, brief bow, only his shoulders moving. "I am Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, and new to Baedel. Are you soldier and shield-maiden of this city?"

Time has no meaning, yay?

[identity profile] scorpiontongue.livejournal.com 2011-05-30 06:25 am (UTC)(link)
Kriv, meanwhile, has no concern whatsoever for whether or not the whole world knows what he is. Let them know it! Let them know it and run! In the chaos of the invasion his voice thunders in the streets, cracking glass and tearing bird and primate asunder. But it's the big beasts he wants - like armored ogres they are, a respectable enough prize to bring down.

He comes across two together and is on them at once, but one beast is distracted by a young man who picked a rather bad time to flee the nearest building. By the time the first corpse and its passengers lie in flames, that second beast has charged off again and is gone. Kriv finds this outcome unacceptable.

Fly, mine arrow! We shall have it yet! and the little falcon tears off like her namesake, evading a few remaing crows with dizzying agility as she cuts through alleys and over rooftops ahead of her master on foot. It is not long after that Erthesvent's keen eyes pick out an armed woman below as she zips past, and with a high hunting cry calls for Kriv's attention. The falcon doesn't stop; Kriv rounds the corner a moment later and does stop, for a moment, mouth gaping with exertion like an overheated crocodile. "You! Where is the armor-beast?"

Not 'excuse me, have you seen an armored monster go this way' or 'please pardon the interruption, but I seem to have misplaced my abomination' or 'didn't we meet the other day?' or even 'are you alright?' Truly Kriv remains gifted in the art of making a good impression on people.
suninhades: (Default)

[personal profile] suninhades 2011-05-30 06:47 am (UTC)(link)
Integra isn't shaken by the accusing shriek, just angry. The last thing she needs are reminders of Iscariot - at any time, but even less when she's supposed to be keeping a cool head in a chaotic situation. She gives Dean a look, not sure if she should accept that as a compliment or roll her eyes, but instead peers at his offering before dismounting. She pats over her horse's neck, letting it shift in place for a bit without her weight; it's been a worthy destrier thus far, but she suspects conditions won't be improving any time soon.

"Hellboy brought those back as well," she says. "His samples are in a containment unit in the subterra. There doesn't seem to be anything malicious about them, but further testing will be done." So, keeping them? Looks like it. She nods towards where he had the civilians hole up. "We need to get them moving north. It's not as bad further out towards the borders."

[identity profile] goodtothecore.livejournal.com 2011-05-30 11:04 am (UTC)(link)
Clark has also been a little distant from Lex since first arriving (other than following him a little from a distance to make sure he's been safe, which doesn't really count), giving his friend space to concentrate on his work, and himself space to make his own, slightly more isolated living arrangements where he can have the comforting familiarity of farm work to fall back on - and that keeps him busy, too. So he was happy to take Lex up on his invitation to the restaraunt, and only a little guilty that he didn't think of it first - and then the birds show up.

For a second he stays where he is, but Lex diving under the table gives him his cue - no showing off his invulnerability. As he ducks under the table next to Lex, he's not sure if the birds are normal - he's been hearing rumours about them, and other weird creatures showing up. And - "When did you get a knife?"

He's mostly surprised Lex doesn't have one of the large caliber handguns he's more used to seeing his friend pull out in times of extreme duress.

[personal profile] tothelastbreath 2011-05-30 02:41 pm (UTC)(link)
As she gets closer, she'll start seeing signs that something else has been here, something that definitely isn't human, but doesn't seem to fit any of the creatures terrorising the city. The path is marred by sparse pockets (there really is no better way to describe how restrained it looks, as though the perpetrator has at least tried to keep damage to a minimum) of gouged concrete, clusters of five parallel slashes that might've been caused by the claws of some huge animal. This only lasts for the next dozen feet or so before the slew of bodies begin, all furred, all bleeding from what looks to be similar claw marks, all either dead or too injured to cause anyone trouble, until the path is practically littered with primates. By now, it should be clear what those seemingly random gouges in the road were meant to be: warning shots. Whatever fought off the monkeys in this particular area has attempted, however briefly, to chase them off instead of outright killing them all.

Further along the way, a dead armadillo lies on the side of the road in halves, cleaved clean through its middle. The severed ends are still glowing faintly with fast-fading lines of pale green light, and should Integra reach them in time, with eyes sharp enough, she may be able to tell a cross had burned bright on bone and sinew not too long ago.

A figure dressed all in white stands right in the middle of a modest square up ahead, the furred hood of his cowl tugged low to hide the distinguishing colour of his hair. When he lifts his head to eye the swarming crows, light glances sharply off the silver masquerade mask obscuring the upper half of his face. It's an obvious effort at anonymity, one he doesn't seem to care about undermining as he strives to get the attention of an agitated crowd of civilians, trying to direct them inside a building he appears to have chosen for its relative lack of windows. You can tell he chose it by the way the front door's lock is slashed open, and how the marks match the strange, metallic-looking claw in place of his left hand.

"Everyone ― this way, please!" His tone is rough with urgency, British accent a lot more evident than usual, but there's no mistaking this voice for anyone but the not-quite young man Integra met a few days ago. "If you'd just get inside, I'll hold them off!"

[personal profile] tothelastbreath 2011-05-30 02:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Assuming those crows aren't obscuring Alucard's sight too much, he may catch a slip of white ghosting along the rooftops in his direction. Assuming it is a little hard to see, he should at least feel the hair-raising tingle of a holy aura closing in, fast, though it's oddly tainted by a vague undercurrent of something... Else. Allen's seen the crows gathering, and while he has no idea who or what they're attacking in such appalling numbers, he's here to make them stop. Instead, it's he who comes to a complete standstill the moment Alucard comes into sight, really comes into sight.

"What on...?" He breathes around the sudden lump in his throat, with the unthinking negligence of the utterly stunned. If Alucard cares enough to seek out the source of his voice, he'll see an English boy crouched on the roof of a squat building nearby, face as bloodless as the sheer white of his cowl. A cogwheeled monocle spins slowly over his left eye, its iris currently a screaming red, and though he's facing Alucard, he's not looking at the other at all, just... Up. Up, up, and further up still into empty air, like he just can't stop himself. He doesn't even blink when stray crows dart across his line of vision.
coffeeking: (ianto is displeased)

[personal profile] coffeeking 2011-05-30 05:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh dear god, Ianto thinks, he's an extra from a fantasy novel. Thankfully, his thoughts don't show on his face, and he's too distracted shooting a terse look at Cassandra to give Boromir the expression of long-suffering that would like very much to emerge.

"Not quite the undead I imagined, but points for creative visioning," he shoots at Cassandra. Things crawling from the grave, indeed. He did believe her though, so he feels the 'told you so' is a bit out of line.

To Boromir, "Ianto Jones, also relatively new. And unless you're counting the militia, we're probably as close as it gets." A beat. "If you're wondering, we're not counting the militia." The useless bastards.

[identity profile] edsidlemirth.livejournal.com 2011-05-30 06:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Eddie isn't doing so well, staying put at the Inn. He isn't especially good at fighting, and doesn't know anything about first aid, either, but he has plans, always, and he wants to do something.

He's traded out the nice suit the city brought here with him for a cheaper shirt, and a long coat that's boring but that's the point. Once that was settled, he applied himself to the Inn's defenses as best he's able and as much as anyone in charge will actually let him assist. His ideas themselves are quite workable, but he's so darn overenthusiastic and convoluted about it. After getting into an argument with someone over whether or not their idea was completely stupid, Eddie heads over to the window to look outside, and sighs.

[identity profile] jysiri.livejournal.com 2011-05-30 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Jysiri deeply regrets not having stayed home, today. He was out shopping, and now he's caught out in the middle of all this mess, and with only a little magic. A ring that produces a happy, whistling song really isn't going to be much of any help, here.

His bird form can fly, and his first plan was to book it on the wing, but peacocks aren't exactly the best long-distance flyers. Instead of hiding in his flat, he is now backed into a corner by a number of disgusting monkeys.

He isn't helpless, though. His bird form grows and wavers a bit, with a blue glow. Then, he's grown to the size of a dog. His fan of long, eyed feathers have diminished and flattened along his back, and an actual tail has grown, rigid and as long again as the rest of his body, with a smaller crest at the tip. Long, clawed fingers poke out from the feathers of his wings, and his head, still feathered, is saurian now, and his mouth is fanged. And the sharp, sickle claws on his feet will help him against his attackers, and maybe give him a chance to run for safety before he's overwhelmed.

He leaves one monkey dead, eviscerated, and leaps over another. He lands badly, one foot twisted, and he squeaks. He can run and leap and fight, but his legs are not good, and he will pay for this, later.

[identity profile] scorpiontongue.livejournal.com 2011-05-30 07:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Another bird cries overhead - a high, fierce falcon sound - and a third monkey, distracted with chasing after Jysiri, promptly erupts in cracking eldritch fire. Kriv is not far behind: teeth bared, armor bloodied, either half insane or having the time of his life or both. The first swing of the bladed polearm in his hands tears a fourth monkey in half.

Integra Hellsing wants the civilians alive. So be it then, and at least in this instance the directive results in exactly what Kriv would be doing anyway. If the little pests want to attack something, let them attack this!

"Little cousin!" he bellows at the strange saurian thing, feathered but unmistakeably, distantly familiar. Perhaps a hybrid drake of some sort? Though if he's chasing after someone's pet he's going to be ill-tempered...er, more ill-tempered about it. "Are you sentient?"
cassie_of_troy: (Weary)

[personal profile] cassie_of_troy 2011-05-30 07:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Cassandra wasn't entirely sure what a 'shield maiden' was, but if it was anything like an Amazon, then the question was rather stupid. After all, it was quite evident she had both of her breasts. She would have to remember, later on, to ask what, precisely a shield maiden was, but for now, she pulled back her bowstring, firing an arrow at a slithering something or other that was creeping up behind the boys.

"I'm a worldwalker as well," she told the stranger. He had the bearing of Greek soldier, except for the sword. That was different. "Cassandra, daughter of Priam." It was a preferable title to what she was normally called.

Priam's Lunatic Daughter.

And on that subject. "I've never had visions like this," she explained to Ianto, a bit apologetically, as she nocked another arrow. "Normally, they're much clearer. I imagine this is a side-effect of worldwalking."

[identity profile] jysiri.livejournal.com 2011-05-30 08:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Jysiri lifts his head, a crest raising in reply, but he must snap at another monkey and dodge out of the way before he can speak. When he does, his mouth doesn't move with the words. His pupils are wide.

"Yes!" he says, frightened, and runs toward the humanoid dragon. That is possibly not the best decision, but he is a bit overwhelmed.
hehaseatenthepancake: (Default)

[personal profile] hehaseatenthepancake 2011-05-30 10:04 pm (UTC)(link)
The look Hellboy gives Mabel says that no, there will be no argument, she will get patched up before going back out. He sheathes his sword and fumbles a bit with his CiD (it can hardly be considered proper use when he's only got one fully functioning hand for the purpose), nodding with a noncommittal grunt at her assessment of her magic skills.

"You'll have to talk to Sir Integra about that," he says about the shotgun idea, then shows her the map on his CiD, pointing to a spot on it. "Okay, the nearest place I saw that'd make a good shelter is here. We'll put the civilians between us. I'll take point, you bring up the rear. Your bat should be good for the other stuff out there, but shout if you get birds and I'll shoo them off. All right?"

He may never feel right with being a king, but leading small teams in the field is something he's long experienced with.
indiscreet: so fine and so distant ((Huntress) - set it running free)

open; Huntress is kind of terrifying

[personal profile] indiscreet 2011-05-30 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
The report of the monsters had come so suddenly, and before Anna was even fully certain of the full extent of what she had just agreed to do she found herself sent towards Brock Marsh district, where the attacks were worst. She isn't sure yet how she feels about an alliance with Hellsing itself, but for now Nuala at least has earned her trust, and furthermore she certainly isn't going to let this city, too, be overtaken by malevolent inhuman...things.

She sprints easily ahead to her destination, already tapping into the Fae part of herself that means she can access this speed without any expenditure of Vitae; she tells herself it is a matter of practicality, preserving the blood to heal herself, but it is so, so easy to want this, to thrill to the possibility of the hunt. Without thinking, she lets the glamour peel away, so that the lightning crackles like streamers through her dark hair, sparks of light show on her skin, and the smell of ozone clings to her like mist.

What greets her at Brock Marsh is beautiful chaos. Many of the civilians have already fled, which is fortunate: it takes a conscious exertion of will to keep herself from hunting down the ones who run by like prey. Instead, she concentrates on what she tells herself will be a far more satisfying chase: the shadowy crows that swarm the sky.

Her arm extends before her, forming a vertical arc that coalesces into a longbow. She pulls an arrow of lightning seemingly from nowhere; aims; fires into the swarm and watches as her arrow shoots through two of the birds, which collapse into pearlescent black beads.

The Huntress laughs with delight.
patricide: (Default)

[personal profile] patricide 2011-05-30 11:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Lex doesn't have a gun for lack of trying. For one thing, it was a little too inconvenient to be packing heat just to go to a restaurant. For another, bullets were apparently a bit rare in Baedal.

"The same time I got my crossbow," Lex mutters in reply. Yes, he does have a crossbow. And a sword. Unfortunately both are back home along with shelter. Lex pulls in a chair from next to the table in an attempt to temporarily barricade themselves in as the birds fly directly toward the table. "You ready? We can take a chair as a shield if we have to."

Clark has only a few seconds to make a decision.
suninhades: (Default)

[personal profile] suninhades 2011-05-31 12:10 am (UTC)(link)
She almost senses the change in the air - the shift from chaotic damage to something more controlled and deliberate - before she sees the wreckage. It's a tangible thing, when one has been on enough battlefields. She isn't made less wary by it - in fact, it prompts her to draw her sword on approach, because calculated damage might just mean a much smarter foe. The sound of her horse's hooves on stone herald her arrival before the sight of her - black-clad on her equally black destrier, the dark color only broken by splashes of red on her tie and the Hellsing badge affixed to the shoulder of her coat. Her hair is pulled back, high, and flecks of blood and gore, fresh and dried alike, spatter her clothes, her mount, and perhaps most importantly, her blade.

Interesting.

Making a split decision, Integra calmly comes alongside Allen (giving him a wide berth, just in case), her weapon held at ease. "Mr. Walker," she calls out, "You seem to have misplaced your credentials in the fray." To the crowd, then: "Please, go inside, and board up the washroom, anything with pipes."

Sir Hellsing may strike an imposing figure, but she a familiar one - and she isn't masked. Her presence - and the slightly manipulative implication that Allen is a wayward Hellsing agent - gets the civilians moving notably more cooperatively, even though many of them are (understandably) still quite shell shocked and wary. Quieter now, so that no one else can overhear them, she looks to the younger man. "How many of those can you take?" No questioning his abilities, what they are or why. Business, immediately.

[identity profile] nojudge.livejournal.com 2011-05-31 01:07 am (UTC)(link)
Max isn't the only one out and about today - Balthier is, as always, restless, and out exploring the city now that his immediate necessities are sorted (the most immediate, getting the hell home, is something he realizes to be something of a work in progress).

Odd animals appearing at random is actually quite familiar with him, and he's about to remark in passing that people are awfully skittish here, considering, when the nausea hits. (He has the thought that he's very glad he'd passed on Jack's offer of painkillers. Earth medication always makes him faintly ill, no matter what the ailment.)

It takes him a minute to make a decision - less than that to sort out the only new variable - and even though it makes him feel like he might just sick up all over the street to do it, he pushes forward to where the thing is wiggling around and brings one leather booted heel down on its head, snapping its neck. Someone across the street gives out a muffled scream in shock, but as soon as the thing stops its death spasms, the sick feelings dissipate.

Staring at the thing (and now attempting to get its blood and other materials off his shoe), he mutters, "The hell was that?"
rhinemaid: actress mia kirshner (caught on a barbed wire fence ♠)

[personal profile] rhinemaid 2011-05-31 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
"Don't be startled if you don't see me," is all the warning Ilde gives before she pushes herself further back in the water and seems to vanish; she isn't truly invisible (and the movement of the water is a tell, if Katherine's looking) but she cloaks herself in the illusion of being water, wide intelligent eyes and bloody knife hidden equally well by her mastery of glamours.

The little monkeys won't be able to see her coming for them, but they will feel it.

[identity profile] aregulargirl.livejournal.com 2011-05-31 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
Max turns so that her back is pressed against the wall and makes a concentrated effort to get herself moving again (not a terribly easy task when one is actively trying not to vomit). She manages to push herself off of the wall and stand steadily when, just as suddenly as it hit her, the nausea fades away.

She frowns, looking around to see if anyone else was affected. A few people are standing around, looking as bewildered as her, and nearby there's a man trying to scrape what was left of the strange creature she'd been trying to take a closer look at off of his shoe.

"No idea," she answers, although she's pretty sure his question was meant to be rhetorical. "Looked like a science experiment gone wrong." (She would know.)
Edited 2011-05-31 02:21 (UTC)

[identity profile] nojudge.livejournal.com 2011-05-31 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
Balthier is only slightly unnerved by how solid the thing was - it looked like an insect, and really, he should have hit it with something not connected to his person in the event it reacted adversely to having its neck snapped - but intense, disorienting nausea does not make for excellent decisions. At least it died without a fuss.

"I cannot fathom what was meant to be right, if so," he remarks, and turns it over with his toe, meanwhile making a face at it.
wearyheadtorest: (stand tall)

[personal profile] wearyheadtorest 2011-05-31 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
...He really did mean it as a compliment. It's okay, though--it's difficult to tell, sometimes, when Dean's being genuine versus when Dean's being a troll.

He nods. More testing. So until these pearls can be in the containment unit in the subterra, they'll be in the containment unit known as Dean's coat pocket. He drops them in and shoulders his shotgun.

"You got it. We should be able to make good time without the damn birds."

For a moment, he considers saying something about what the birds had to say. They were rude to Integra but she doesn't strike him as the type of woman who needs a guy to say look, it's not true or anything like that. The bird mouthed off and she cut the son of a bitch in half.

He supposes he was trying to do the same. They unnerved him, he can't lie. He's so far past his expiration date he'd almost forgotten--or maybe he just hoped, a little--that the contract was null and void. That had been a nasty little reminder.

Time and place, though, and this didn't feel like the right one of either to open that can of worms. "What's the best route for getting those people out of here, quickly?" he asks, pulling out his CiD.
tothelastbreath: (this will chase us underground)

[personal profile] tothelastbreath 2011-05-31 03:38 am (UTC)(link)
Funnily enough, Allen did misplace his credentials very permanently in a fray back home. The front of his cowl flutters open when he turns to her, revealing an outfit similar to what he was wearing when they first met, though this one is mottled quite liberally with blood. He has clearly been fighting all day, which doesn't explain the pristine state of his cowl ― yet another oddity adding to his peculiar appearance. Throw that elaborate mask into the mix, and he definitely doesn't look like the most trustworthy person around. The quick nod of acknowledgement he gives Integra serves both to keep up appearances, and also to thank her for her timely intervention, even if it is shadowed by a touch of wariness in his eyes as he considers her Hellsing badge.

...Well, at least she isn't from the Militia. Allen may still be feeling over-exposed and under-informed, but he has always been prone to throwing caution to the wind in favour of saving lives.

The mask slides off in the next heartbeat, marking a split decision of his own.

"As many as it takes," he murmurs back, with a rock-steady assurance that speaks not only of a good measure of confidence, but practically rings with the grim determination of someone used to being outnumbered in every fight and making it out alive, simply because there's never another choice. A glance at the building to be sure everyone else is either safely indoors or nearly there, then he's taking up a stance in front of Integra and her horse, almost like he's getting ready to cover her―

"If you'd kindly take cover, I'll make sure none of them get past me."

―strategic retreat, apparently. It's not a slight to her abilities; Allen's more than aware that he's dealing with a very capable woman. Capable but, to the best of his knowledge, a mortal one nonetheless. Back home, normal humans have little place on the battlefield unless it's a list of the dead. She's more than welcome to show him things are different here, though.

[identity profile] manipulativni.livejournal.com 2011-05-31 03:40 am (UTC)(link)
"I can hear," she says before Ilde disappears into the water. As they approach, she screams, just to draw their attention towards her. It works, and they're soon headed her way, screeching and snarling. She doesn't let her face slip to show her fangs and veins this time, just goes to town attacking them, hitting them with a blow to the head or twisting their necks around until she hears them snap.

After a few kills, she glances behind her to see how Ilde's faring. She saw a few run past her and into the river.
rhinemaid: actress mia kirshner (only a fool would give out ♠)

[personal profile] rhinemaid 2011-05-31 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
The blood in the water isn't Ilde's, let's put it that way - at least it's mostly not hers, and she's going to have to practically bathe in antiseptic when this is over, she knows, she refuses to be taken out by the diseases of dead vermin. She delivers a blow with her tail that flings one of the little bastards out of the water, into the air, and even if Ilde herself isn't clear to be seen, Katherine can presumably draw her own conclusions from the beast being skewered mid-air.

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