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 2011-06-02 04:26 pm (UTC)(link)
'Holding tightly' is certainly something Six manages; for a little slip of a thing, she has to remind herself that she doesn't even know this man and thus should probably not leave a bruise from her fingertips. She's not shaking, to her credit, but she's deeply unsettled by both the transport and that the city appears to be a zoological nightmare.

The magic, too, is startling.

She turns her head to watch the charring birds' bodies as they ride on, wondering what, exactly, she's gotten herself into now.
apostatised: (discontent ♠ all of your ugly meanings)

[personal profile] apostatised 2011-06-02 04:42 pm (UTC)(link)
From the maneuvrability of both horse and rider, the pair of them are a little too accustomed to being obliged to pound through the close-quarters of a city - Martel and his mount are nothing like modern, though Six presumably has other things on her mind just now - and they don't slow 'til they've cleared where he can see the birds. There'll be more, and he's briefly irked that he didn't get all of those filth-ridden primates as he'd planned, but a short breather to get the name of the woman he's unceremoniously collected can't go amiss.

Decent chainmail wouldn't, either, but if wishes were horses and all that.

"Another new arrival, I take it," he says, not quite over his shoulder as Kalten's pace evens out and he rests a hand on the pommel of his sword. Outside the Inn and looking lost, he's inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt that she isn't simply such a fool as to have been better off left to her fate.

(He is perhaps not the most ideal of rescuers.)

[identity profile] aconitumferox.livejournal.com 2011-06-02 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"Just now. They let me out, and..." She doesn't shrug, but there's a moment where she might have done. Her own quietness betrayed her at the Inn; if she'd been more social, maybe she might have been warned. "What is happening to this place? It can't normally be like this."

That 'can't' is both because she's extrapolated it's not utter madness all the time by the functioning architecture and city system, and because she simply refuses to accept being transported to someplace so brutally barbaric at all hours. Refuses.
apostatised: (danger ♠ the shattered surface)

[personal profile] apostatised 2011-06-02 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)
"Someone's playing a twisted game, if I'm any judge," because it isn't ordinarily like this, and as a matter of fact, Martel is a goddamned expert on that. (This isn't his style, quite - too impersonal. Then again, considering the scale of his war and the ignorance of all too many caught up in it, he may only be missing the right clues.)

He considers briefly giving her one of the knives hidden on him, but for the time being opts not to risk being accidentally stabbed between the ribs next time something startles her.

[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."