multiversallogs | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The loud crack of gunfire fills the air once, then twice, then a third time in quick succession. Boromir may be unfamiliar with guns, but the results of the weapon should be plain enough as three of the creatures fall respectively with each bang, ripped away from their would-be victims to collapse in growing pools of blood. The neat, round wounds in torsos and faces are efficient and well-aimed.

"Nice sword," Ianto comments rather casually, appearing to one side. He's close enough he doesn't have to shout, but not so close Boromir might accidentally nick him. He raises his firearm again and takes out another of the creatures as it leaps at him.

Cassandra had been out on the streets when the onslaught began. With her bow. Despite Apollo's warnings to the contrary, she refused to be caught unawares. Which is probably why she wasn't all that surprised when the attack began. She hated to believe that she was now thinking like a soldier, but that's the way it went. Especially after hopping into another world. Three times.

Her first instinct was immediately to find Ianto and Jack. She knew how well they fought and she knew she would be safest following them. After that, it was just a matter of hurrying through the streets and listening.

There was a lot of screaming, but it was no more than ten minutes before Cassandra heard the first gunshots. Ianto or Jack. Without a doubt (at least in her twisted little mind). She followed the sound, coming out onto the street where she saw Ianto, with a large, strange man. "This probably isn't the time to say 'I told you so,'" Cassandra murmured, nocking an arrow into her bow.

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?"

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.

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."

"I can see why," he says rather tersely. Boromir couldn't understand most of the things here due to a quiet and self-contained culture shock, and just shock in general, but the most ridiculous thing of all was dragging so many people here without providing a way to protect them and defend the city.

A shield-maiden both is and isn't like an Amazon (warrior women and usually of noble birth), and if Cassandra ever cares to question him once this madness is done, he'll tell her as much.

"You say 'we,' in a manner that means more than both of you. Are you from Hellsing? Someone mentioned them to me not long ago."

"I am, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't broadcast that information." It's almost a kneejerk habit for Ianto to keep his profession under wraps, and Hellsing is little different in that respect than Torchwood was. Hellsing may not be top secret like Torchwood, but it isn't necessarily the best idea to let everyone know you work for the people responsible for taking out the seedier non-human elements of the city.

Ianto glanced briefly at the thing Cassandra had killed before firing another shot off at yet another monkey. The damn things were still creeping out of the corpse.

"What is Hellsing?" Cassandra asked, never one to back down from asking a question. She nocked another arrow, shooting at the whatever crawling down the street before her. "That organization run by that Integra woman?" She didn't seem particularly warm, but Cassandra supposed that came with the territory. Still, she had been a little put off when she asked about training and was given a slightly cold shoulder.

Vaguely, she found herself wondering what would have happened if Cassandra herself had reported her vision to those people.

They'll never believe you, Swan.

She shook the horrible memory away from her, letting her arrow fly. "Never mind. Where are you from, Captain? I don't recognize your clothing or your White Tower."

Boromir seems a little bit taken aback by that, but puts it to the back of his mind. So far he's only been told of its existence by the river-maiden, Ilde. But a strange city means strange warfare and he doesn't know the nature of this man's mission, after all. "Consider it forgotten."

That Integra woman also gets Boromir's attention. Again, he saves it away for later. Instead, he turns his attention to the stalker, whose parasites are still emerging. He mutters something inaudible which is most likely a ye olde curse word, and plunges his sword into the beast's stomach. "Gondor." Stabbity stab. "Middle-Earth, Arda. I seem to be the only native to be brought here." Or at least he thinks -elves have a tendency to get around. "And yourself?"

plot } the creatures descend.

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sorry for the deleted comment, realised i was mixing this thread up w/ another >_>