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] birdofhermes.livejournal.com 2011-06-01 02:24 am (UTC)(link)
The vampire stays, unmoving, through her display - head canted just so.

"I hadn't endeavored to make you give up your position," and he states it with a grin. Surely, the gunfire will have drawn the attentions of their present foes - be they crows or less recogniseable creatures. "I only wanted to know if you'd be of more use as a mobile unit. If you don't run, however.."

The implication is enough. It'll do no good.

"Hellsing houses a number of medics - most of which are presently at work in the field. The others are stationed in the guild, waiting for what casualties the hospitals won't be able to accommodate. The organisation, however, has no say in the operation of nonmembers."
primogen_vampirate: (Annoyed)

[personal profile] primogen_vampirate 2011-06-01 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
"Then I'll run my own triage," Mina said, setting out the salves in order of use, alphabetically. Burns first, followed by disinfectants, followed by tranquilizers, and so on. She made quick work of it, shoving all of the bottles within an inch of the hedge, to avoid puncturing any with the thorns. These thorns were capable of dealing lethal damage to immortals, after all. She didn't want to think of what they would do to glass. And she had never been quite this ambitious with Cruac before.

Not that it mattered here.

No one cared about the Masquerade.

Mina took a blanket out, laying it across the ground. From one of her shopping bags, she removed a pillow she had just purchased herself. Goose down. She sighed. Such a waste to get it all dirty and bloody, but patients were her first priority, so she set it on the blanket.

Once everything was set in place to her satisfaction, she took out the bottle of rum she had been saving, just in case. Pulling out the cork with her teeth, she poured some into her palms, rubbing them clean and sterile. And smelling rather pleasant.

[identity profile] birdofhermes.livejournal.com 2011-06-01 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
"If that's all you required,"

And Mina will have a rather sardonic bow, should she choose to regard him in that moment - as well as a bit of what she'd been hoping to see before. There's a quiet flutter of wings, and Alucard's hand - his arm - no, Alucard, has gone, swept up and off to kill in a form she's like to recognise: a swarm of bats.