A Shadowy Cabal (Mod Acct) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
synergismus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
multiversallogs2011-05-27 08:05 pm
synergismus) wrote in multiversallogs2011-05-27 08:05 pm
Entry tags:
- # operation: bio,
- @ brock marsh,
- @ mog hill,
- @ mog hill: valhalla inn,
- @ sobek croix,
- @ ~ gross tar river,
- alucard,
- anna demirovna,
- dean winchester,
- hellboy,
- ilde decima,
- integra hellsing,
- jones,
- marie-sixtine st. vincent,
- martel,
- rachel conway,
- raylan givens,
- sonja garin,
- { boromir,
- { nazca barsavi,
- } adrian veidt,
- } allen walker,
- } balthier,
- } cassandra of troy,
- } clark kent,
- } edward nigma,
- } gabriel gray,
- } ianto jones,
- } jo harvelle,
- } jysiri,
- } katherine pierce,
- } kriv scorpion-tongue,
- } lex luthor,
- } mabel albans,
- } max guevara,
- } michael anders,
- } mina barrett
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.
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.
HDU THIS IS WONDERFUL COME HERE SO I CAN LOVE YOU D:<
Of course it's not the crawler that's the biggest problem, and even as it twitches on the street, trying to get up, the screaming pests it carries inside of it are beginning to press and tear and try to make their escape into the city. Integra yanks the shotgun off its attachment from the back of her saddle and takes aim, blowing away the first several to escape at close range. Her horse protests verbally and treads anxiously, but doesn't startle or dart.
/LATCHES ONTO YOUR LOVE
She sees the crawler twitch on the street, and flings another arrow its way before it can get back up again. Immediately afterward, she reaches for her own gun, taking aim as well. Jo blows away the rest that attempt an escape. She'll eventually run out of ammo, but she'll cross that bridge when she gets to it.
<333
She scans for other signs or sounds of movement - irritable, singed and blood-covered, but still put together, Integra takes her cue from her horse and figures it's all clear in this moment. "What gauge does that take?" ... Someone else might have asked Jo if she was okay.
<333! :3
"Thanks for earlier," she says to Integra, wiping at the torn sleeve of her shirt. Ironically, the wound is from prior to arriving at Baedal. Other than that, she looks no worse for wear. Jo's eyes take in their surroundings, sharply, alert; deciding the coast is clear for now, she turns back to the other woman. "Name's Jo Harvelle."
no subject
"Sir Integra Hellsing." Through black leather and buckles, she pulls out a square-cut muslin bag, not much bigger than her hand, and hands it to Jo - twelve buckshot rounds, hand-packed by the look of it. "Shrapnel," she explains. "Won't do much on the birds besides scatter them for a bit, but it'll put everything else through a blender." Making shells out of shredded metal is without a doubt cruel and unusual, from a game hunting perspective, but when you're in a world where proper ammunition is difficult to come by and what you shoot absolutely positively needs to be dead yesterday, it's efficient. (Just perhaps not pretty.)
no subject
She takes a step back to give Integra more room to swing down off the horse, and she takes the buckshot rounds and nods intently. Cruel and unusual or not, it's what they have, and Jo will work with what she's got. "Got it," she says affirmatively, sliding the shotgun through her shoulder by its sling. "I already noticed much won't work on 'em, and it'll only piss 'em off instead. If I knew I'd be stepping into a Hitchcock film today, I would've brought a helluva lot more ammo with me."
Jo, it wouldn't have let you.
no subject
"It's an unusual event," she admits. "We haven't been able to ascertain where they're coming from, just yet, though I suspect somewhere underground. Bloody mess."
no subject
Longest twenty-four hours of her life.
no subject
"You're to meet Dean Winchester out here, am I correct?" Look, their exchange was public.
no subject
Jo turns to Integra, slightly surprised, but she's already helped so Jo doesn't think to evade the question. It was also mentioned one had to properly lock things if they didn't want anyone to hear their conversations, but Jo was unconcerned with that at the time. "Yeah, I am. We know each other from back home. Not Bete Noire, but home. I asked if he needed back-up and he mentioned it wouldn't hurt."
no subject
In the distance, an ambulance siren wails, and Integra pauses for a while to remain quiet and listen. The air is less still, now, and it puts her a bit more on edge. "He's been escorting civilians to safe zones. Do you need a medic?"
no subject
"I'm fine, I'll patch it up real quick when I get back at the Inn," Jo assures. It's not a serious injury. And it's about now she's starting to piece everything together. Who Integra is, what Sam's told her. "... Hellsing Organization. That's what Sam was talkin' about," Jo says with a nod. "He mentioned Dean trusts you guys a lot. If I can help, just let me know."
That means something to Jo.
no subject
"That's correct." For a moment, Integra pauses, and listens. In the distance... well, damn. She moves to re-arranged ties on her saddle, but continues speaking: "We're going to need to try and secure this area, but I imagine it's going to take something of an inter-departmental effort. They're coming from under the earth, and this is the epicenter. We need to get down there, but we can't end up trapped from both ends."
Integra hauls herself back up onto her horse with ease, and it shifts its weight, making a huffing noise. "There are crows coming this way." The cries - they're not quite human. And she can feel it, that tang of fresh blood in the air, permeating everything. She offers Jo her hand. "We'd better get you to Mr. Winchester."
no subject
"'Course they are. Damn birds." Jo has never been on a horse, but she's not about to show her trepidation now. Fear can be a tool, she has learned. Fear she can use to her advantage if she lets it drive her instead of cripple her. "I'm right there with you," she says, and she clasps Integra's hand with her own, using it to boost herself up, swinging her leg onto the other side as she hauls herself up onto the horse as well behind one Sir Integra Hellsing. Her gun remains at her side, and Jo will be at the ready should it be needed.
Universe, if you thought there'd be anything more fucking epic than this... well, then. You were wrong. Obvs.
no subject
Translation: shoot the bloody hell out of anything she needs to, even if it's next to Integra's head. For a moment she's just quiet, sorting out in some far-off mental place where Alucard is; she's gotten better at this, over the past few months, communing with the devil while fighting for God. But that's handled, and there are cries of flesh-eating birds coming their way, so with a sharp motion, she spurs her horse and he takes off, speeding them faster and faster over cobblestone streets, towards the Train linkup.
no subject
Jo doesn't need to be told twice. She remains vigilant, shoulders stiffened, holding on as best she can while also keeping her grip tightened over the shotgun. Anything that so much as tries to approach them is blasted off immediately.
She does well, if she says so herself.