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] aconitumferox.livejournal.com 2011-06-03 04:02 pm (UTC)(link)
"Where are we going, then?" Since Martel lifted her up, she assumes he has a destination in mind--she's not incapable of combat, but it's obviously not her strong suit, and she has to reach down at one point to readjust her high heeled boots. (She's rather glad she wore boots and not pumps, or she'd have lost them up here on the saddle.)
apostatised: (calculation ♠ inside the quiet earth)

[personal profile] apostatised 2011-06-03 04:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"To find you a shelter away from those bedamned birds," he suggests, drier than should be permissible under the circumstances - he'd been heading back to Brock Marsh, but dragging her there with him will serve neither of them. (He briefly considers that he should've just shouted her back into the Inn and ridden on. Too late now, and he's always been able to think on his feet.) "I'd drop you in Hellsing's lap-" the Guild, not Integra, although wouldn't that be interesting? "-but I don't fancy riding through Sobek Croix's woods in this. North, rather, I think. Sing out if you see something that looks as if it wants to kill us, won't you?"

[identity profile] aconitumferox.livejournal.com 2011-06-05 07:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"Will do," she mutters, wondering, a little, at what the hell kind of rescuer she's found herself. It's not that she's ungrateful, but...none of this just makes any sense; her shock is as much at being transported as it is the onslaught of attacks.
apostatised: (exert ♠ so indecisive so adamant)

[personal profile] apostatised 2011-06-05 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
The kind who's already kicking himself for having done it- doer of good deeds is not exactly something that's been listed after his name for some time now, after all, and it sits oddly on him. Too familiar, in ways he hasn't yet found his way back to, and besides that, so cliché.

"Martel," he says, after a moment. "And you are?"

[identity profile] aconitumferox.livejournal.com 2011-06-09 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)
"Marie-Sixtine St. Vincent," she answers, automatically, with the kind of tired awareness that accompanies having A Name--a name everyone knows attached to a very prominent family.

And then, with the realization he probably has no idea what that means and what a relief: "Or just...Six."
apostatised: (praise ♠ if to distant lands i scatter)

[personal profile] apostatised 2011-06-09 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Now would be an unwise time to spare a glance back over his shoulder, but the exhalation that's almost a laugh (knowing, too knowing) and the shift of tension in his shoulders speaks to a familiarity that he doesn't really need to comment on to express. The name means nothing to him, no, that's true, but he knows that tone and he repeats, "Six," easily, because God knows that he of all people cannot begrudge someone whoever they wish to be here. "Just Six, then."