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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.
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"Funny thing, I think they were trying to kill me."
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It occurred to Mina, of course, that he was probably one of the so-called 'worldwalkers,' just like her. How strange it was that she was going up to complete strangers and asking to look under their bandages. This wasn't a hospital. She just felt some kind of affinity for these people, in the same boat.
"My name is Mina," she said. "Dr. Mina Barrett. Chicago, February of 1932."
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"Didn't know they let women do that, in '32."
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She pulled back the bandages, frowning slightly. 2010. She had seen the kind of weapons that existed in the future, as it were. Brown and Morgenstern had brought something called a sub-machine gun back from their jaunt into the future. It was a work of art, beauty beyond measure. It was also devastating. She really, really hoped she didn't see anything like that beneath the bandages.
"Who was trying to kill you?" she asked. "A jealous lover? It's all the rage in Chicago these days. Or rather, my days."
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His wound was nothing that severe; a few weeks of healing had already reduced the outer damage, but it was a smaller firearm, a handgun not unlike those from her time, at least in caliber.
"And no. Line of duty, sad to say, nothing that exciting." Which wasn't, perhaps, strictly true. But it was close to it.
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She walked back over to her medical bag, opening it. On the inside was a scalpel. Carefully, she lifted the handle, keeping both of her hands inside of the bag. Swiftly, she slit open her palm, murmuring a few words in Norse. Cruac, combined with some good dressings would do the trick. No muss, no fuss, no breaking the Masquerade.
As if such a thing still existed.
"Are you a police officer?" she asked, picking up her bag and returning to his bedside. She kept her hand in, forcing her blood to heal up the damage created to cast the spell.
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Still, he made himself resist the temptation to get combative. Maybe he was just jumpy over nothing.
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She poured some salve into her magically charged hand, hoping it wouldn't interfere with her Cruac. She had never tried anything like this before. "I'm going to guess you're good at what you do. You have that sort of look. Not to mention those irresistible brown eyes."
Mina was a sucker for puppy-dog eyes.
Gently, she started to rub the salve along his chest, sending the Cruac energy into his skin. Maiden Skin. One of the most undervalued abilities natural tot he Circle of the Crone. She shook her head. Pity more didn't learn to use it. "You're lucky. In my time, a woman sees a man shirtless and it's presumed they're going steady," she teased.
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Still, he wanted to know what she was doing.
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"Although my specialty is meatball surgery, I know a thing or two about holistic healing," she lied. She lightly patted his chest, pulling her hand back and taking out a handkerchief to clean the salve off of her rings. "Stitches and disinfectant are great, but they don't really do much to speed up the body's own handiwork."
Mina took out some fresh bandages. She leaned over Raylan again, the ring around her neck slipping out from under her collar and swinging in the air. "So tell me about the future."
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And he can't deny he feels a subtle difference already.
"Don't know exactly what you want to know. Can't really compare about Chicago, but I can't imagine Kentucky's changed much." A pause, then he adds, "Booze is legal again."
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"As for Kentucky, I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure. The farthest south I've ever been in your country was South Carolina." She wondered, vaguely, if Jamaica counted. After all, when she had last been there, the entire bloody area had been part of the same country, technically. That country had just been jolly old England.
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Mina took some surgical tape out of her bag. She tucked her necklace back under her collar, then started to rip strips of tape. "Are there flying cars?" she asked, teasingly. "Writers always dreamed of that sort of thing. Flying cars. Men from Mars. Trips to the moon." She paused, smiling slightly. "Jules Verne. Brilliant man."
As she recalled, Joseph Brown had introduced her to Jules Verne.
"There must be something more to report about the future, other than the booze."
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With a shrug, he adds, "It's just normal, for me. I don't know what the interesting parts are."
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She might have, if she had remained at home. But there was really no point in lamenting over what might have been.
That went for so many things.
"When I was a young girl, I used to believe that the moonlight would make me beautiful. I would leave the window of my bedroom open to let the moonlight hit me while I slept." She shook her head. "It never made me beautiful, but at least it never made me a werewolf." She laughed. "Do your people in the future still believe in silly things like that?"
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"Well, Marshal," she said, stepping back. "I think you'll live to trip the light fandago again."
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"So what's going on, out there?"
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She couldn't help but feel some disdain. Either there was a Masquerade or there wasn't. And if there wasn't, it seemed like information sharing was probably a good idea.
Not that she was ungrateful for the medical supplies.
"I'm afraid I haven't been in the thick of it. I've been busy patching up injuries."
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Neatly, she started organizing her bag again. "Quite the situation we're in, isn't it? People from ancient Greece, people from the future, all of us trapped here. And apparently under attack. It makes you wonder if there's some kind of higher purpose to it all."
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She sat on the foot of his bed, looking at him. "I know of some people who have already started. Their first step was to visit the temple of the local gods. They didn't find much."
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"I saw the boat trip too. So far, no luck there."
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