|
|
Post by Krakenbox on Oct 6, 2021 22:21:16 GMT -8
The She-Wolf outlined a strange phenomena that her motleymate had uncovered. Between the hours of 2 to 4 AM, a collection of mundane individuals were sleepwalking en masse, and gathering around the edge of local public pools. There they would remain, until the sun breached the horizon, and they would peacefully return to their homes. Due to the intel about a Keeper worming its way into the Skein—the collective unconsciousness of sentient beings for the uninitiated—the dream roads; the individuals were tagged and confirmed to live outside Las Vegas' Wards. There were other gatherings being spotted within the city, as different war parties under the Autumn Knight were directed there, and Oren, Eis, and Victor found themselves on the same team.
The Knight of Lore sniffed, a molten drip of felfire drool escaping her maw as the Spirit hungered. The Keeper had found a loophole, and the intel it may be gathering could prove catastrophic for their society, innocent victims or not. They were on a clock.
Hunting them down into their homes, beyond the Wards, was both dangerous and placing their family members at risk. They needed to lure them in, and pick them off from the collective herd so they could no longer be the extension of the senses of their enemy. Who knows if they had spread this to others? There was apprehension as others asked the natural question of whether they could go into their minds and cleanse them. For some Fairest comfort, Victor calls upon the Black Dog to give warning if they are about to murder someone who was not under the influence of the True Fae. To conserve their power, Eis then offers to cast the Mastermind's Gambit in his stead, creating an organization that would lock down the block so they could pursue their targets uninterrupted.
Frankly, with the Contract and the power of the Rite, it was more a question of morality that they would indeed be hunting humans that were none the wiser to their fates.
Claiming the territory as his own with a Takeover, he started mapping exit strategies and positioning from where the sleepwalkers were noted to gather.
Oren cloaked himself in the shadows of obfuscation, waiting for the opportunity to either engage the targets or guarantee the fall of his target.
|
|
Eis
.
Posts: 189 
|
Post by Eis on Oct 10, 2021 7:28:19 GMT -8
Eis had worked with Oren before. He has a certain flair for the social spectacle she can appreciate. Her fellow Autumn, however, is entirely untested. True, this is only in her eyes - but even if he's an unsung hero of the Freehold she'd still prefer to see him in action herself. Ever the most compassionate version of a chilling Autumn witch, the Snowskin voices her opinion. "Our Enemies' instruments need to be dealt with. This much, I'm sure, we all agree. I do hope we can limit this to just the unwitting spies and leave collateral entirely off the table."
The Knight of Lore is as good a source as any for the esoteric nature of their hunt. Still, Eis keeps a questioning attitude about the ordeal.
|
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242 
|
Post by Oren on Oct 10, 2021 9:12:53 GMT -8
Light bent, like sunlight threads on a wall, wound around a finger and flicked off like dust on the shoulder. Glass teeth and marble tongue, here to do the She-Wolf's work.
|
|
|
|
Post by Victor on Oct 11, 2021 18:02:04 GMT -8
Victor wasn't in the position to add to the moral discussion, and quite frankly the less he thought about it the happier he would be. The chimera busied himself pouring over the digital map of the area on his phone, marking all the places of note.
|
|
|
|
Post by Krakenbox on Oct 11, 2021 20:13:47 GMT -8
Eis has a streamed conversation with the She-Wolf. It became clear that the Keeper's influence was that of the Skien, circumnavigating the Wards on another plane of reality that even Vegas was incapable of completely shielding. Those outside would have had to agree to be vessels, but what that would look like to the mundane would have likely been some sort of temptation. As far as the Ogre steeped in the power of the Wyrd was concerned, it was a pattern taught in lessons of old, whether in churches or fairytales. The humans wandered off the path of safety for mad promises and the stuff of dreams, and their fate was woven with the actions of heroes, not of the Fae-folk. Eis pointed out that if the sleepers were wandering, would that bring them closer to Bastions within the sleepers of the Freehold. The theory was frightening to broach. These deaths were effectively a quarantine, but did that put them at risk? Would the influence have had a chance to spread to others? Keeping one to examine might be best, with proper steps in place to ensure Patient Zero wouldn't move beyond those researching the Keeper's effects. It likely could only spread via the Gates of Ivory, and stepping directly into a Bastion without preparation could prove to be deadly. Victor is already making calls in the background, tapping his contacts and pinging what he assumed was Loki and Chugunkin's own activity with the underworld. The Fairest was very connected, though not a leader of distinction, it felt like a little bit of everyone owed him a favour. Even police were tipped off, though in a manipulation that flagged that lies came easy to him. At Eis' comment about minimizing impact on innocents, Victor offered a thumbs up, saying the area's going into lock down and power to the grid was going to be cut off. Some shadier individuals will be waiting at obvious escape routes—they knew the area better than a lost resident far from home in the dark, and would scoop them up for collection. The why was fed as debt collection, and Victor wasn't known to be a killer. Combined with Eis' Contract, there wasn't really a way to do this better. Benjamin Murphy was absent, directing another hunting party with his oracular precision. The She-Wolf transformed, the wolven form to the eyes of the mundane hid a horrifying vision of splitting imagery as she darted to and from the shadows of the silenced neighbourhood amidst the stalking Lost. Victor froze, the hair standing up on end as he spied the Barghest, the hound trotting towards him as the warning went off that someone innocent was about to die in thirteen minutes. Blinking, his attention darted towards the Autumn Knight, hissing the revelation to her as she stopped tracking a scent—someone was out that shouldn't be, perhaps homeless or stumbling drunk, but the Wolf halts her advances on a potential early catch. Patience was hard with the Spirit of the Hunt, causing everyone to be frustrated and twitchy as they let the individual silently pass them by. No bestial instinct surged, confirming it wasn't their Target, but the razor's edge was there where something primal keened for sacrifice. They instead wait at the pool with thundering hearts, nervous to make a mistake and risk their integrity in the throes of a Rite, even catching themselves drooling fire at the thought of annihilating their mark. Five gathered. They trickled in one by one—three women of varying ages, one teenaged girl likely no older than sixteen, and a young man. There appeared to be no pattern to who was who, such as age, gender, or ethnicity. Tension was high as everyone glanced at each other, observing exactly what they were told: they just stood there, on the edge of the pool as their eyes twitched in the stages of REM, until Oren flickered from forgetfulness and gently clasped the shoulder of the redhead. He beamed at her, but the manic energy of the Spirit made his smile a little too hungry for answers to provide any sense of comfort in waking up in a strange place with a strange person in the middle of the night. She didn't scream, but yelped in confusion as she pulled back, asking where she was as she took in her surroundings. Oren did his best to calm her down, and was actually quite the actor, but the commotion was already startling the rest awake. The man shouted at Oren to back off of her while the teenager searched her pockets for her cell phone, while the oldest reflexively asked if she was all right. The last one simply bolted, not wasting time with questioning the bizarre scenario and simply opted for instinctual flight. |
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242
|
Post by Oren on Oct 12, 2021 13:57:44 GMT -8
If you couldn't beat them, join them.
If he had worn anything other than his face, it would have been fine. But there was a zeal in him. It didn't feel right to do this any other way. Oren wanted gravity, and sought the Wyrd for it. It would twinkle in his eye.
"Hey! What's going on?"
Befuddled. Mildly confused. Out of sorts. That's how he needed to look. Like he had been stirred from a stupor. Made to take a detour. Everything else would be a reflection of what these Mundanes imagined him to be. He would have to be endowed. But Oren was an actor. Seeming was just as just as easy as breathing.
|
|
|
|
Post by Victor on Oct 12, 2021 21:38:23 GMT -8
Victor almost found himself nodding as the runner took off- he had explicitly gone on this hunt because he anticipated it was going to get messy, after all. He tapped Eis, whispering
"I'm taking runner."
Before he bid the wyrd to hide him from notice and took off running himself. He was almost certainly not the best runner of the team, but She Wolf needed to stay with the group and Oren was clearly tied up with the bulk of the mundanes. Maybe Eis could have served the role just as good or better than he, but they didn't have enough time to talk that over right now. If he could just catch up to the runner, he could shove her over and hopefully get her skull to hit the pavement. It'd be the quietest way to do it, and a far less suspicious body to deal with than one with stab wounds or bullet holes.
|
|
|
|
Post by Krakenbox on Oct 16, 2021 10:03:48 GMT -8
No one knew what was going on.
Growing up in the city, Grace's mother hammered that in strange situations, trust your gut. She wasn't looking to end up another statistic as news anchors argued over her hobbies, sexuality, or choices to be outside at night. She also wasn't looking to be another statistic in a Forensic Psychology course about the failures of the Bystander Effect. The woman ran for her life; adrenaline speeding her steps as she opted for silence until she came upon the right surroundings and risk being found.
Victor felt anger, with a feral need and frustration pumping hot through his body as she quickly outpaced him even without her being aware of his approach. He wasn't sure if the sparking light and strong scent was a hallucination, but she shimmered and left an afterimage in his mind with the demand to catch and kill. Victor wasn't a herder—that had been someone else's job once upon a time—but this wasn't an Emerald Dream, and the Chimera was destined to be flexible. The preplanning had paid off as no cars passed her frantic pacing up the alleyway road, and she didn't opt for thundering on people's doors to trust them to let her in. As no easy out presented itself, she started shouting for help with a measured tone that was desperate for people not to think she was crazy.
The Spirit of the Hunt surged, fighting against one's natural hesitation as Victor mused on timing.
--
This was not the blazing adrenaline adventure she pictured having with Lucas Chevalier.
It was probably better that he wasn't even here, from all the manic twitching and growling within her spirit making the proud Fairest act like quite the witch. Thoughts of the Winter were trimmed and efficiently replaced with the task at hand, which she told herself repeatedly was for a greater purpose.
Eis did not have the blessing of invisibility. The Snowskin's features were darker still, hollow and sharp as her baleful gaze drifted from Victor vanishing to finish their Hunt, and Oren throwing his arms wide to move among the sheep. She had enough sense not to freeze the stage, and waited with the She-Wolf—eyes glowing in the shadows as they stalked the edges of safety in case another tried to make a run for it. She knew the Ogre couldn't take them all...unless she could split that horrifying mien of hers into many. Timing aside, she would rather not lose the Autumn noble to the grips of bloodlust from taking too many lives at once. This was a communal Rite and it was only proper.
Her instinct was rewarded as Oren's magic didn't seem to twist the trust of the teen, losing her nerve or obligations to assist the rest as the runner's panic was infectious.
As she rounded the corner, her hands went up as they wish to wrap around her throat, as the ghostly visage contorts to horrors beyond mortal ken and she freezes in shock.
As the redhead sighs with relief upon recognizing Oren as a position of authority, the man settles a bit, but instead asks the Mirrorskin if he knows anything, as it appears they're the only two with a tie to one another. As to what authority Oren holds is a little muddy: she has no uniform or obvious cues, and a lack of details for her enchanted mind to cling to doesn't belt out a title like "office" or "superintendent" when referring to a name. Really, the first one running was the suspicious one, Oren concluded: had she lead them all there and ditched before the Bad Thing happens? The older woman seems guilty that she couldn't establish trust with the teenager, and gravitated towards the Elemental's magnetic personality; she squinted helplessly in the dark without her glasses.
As soon as Oren got the redhead talking about, the man—Elliot—and elder—Faye—confirmed they were having pleasant dreams. The elder, with some embarrassment at how narcissistic she must have sounded, described hers akin to being welcomed back to the garden of Eden. Beautiful music was another theme, with the three growing quiet as the man queued up the tune with surprising talent and the other two women joined in. Oren was confident with his...talents...that he could mimic it for future investigation.
The redhead scoffed, blaming the government and brainwashing.
The conversation halts to shock, screaming, and splashes as the great beast lunged from the shadows; clearing the distance with supernatural speed and barreling the redhead into a rapidly reddening pool.
|
|
Oren
.
written by Hiver
Posts: 242
|
Post by Oren on Oct 20, 2021 17:05:25 GMT -8
Oren's teeth were glass, and he was growing impatient. He was hoping for something more...rewarding. You'd think Fae-addled mundanes would bring some of that sublime soap opera to an otherwise woefully grounded, gritty bloodfest.
It was a dirge rather than an aria. And that was okay. So he bid the Wyrd close, bringing a finger to his lips to draw their quiet.
He offered them a soft commiseration. Belief that everything would be fine, because he too dreamt of a meadow and was surrounded by dancers in flowing white. And when they blinked he would be gone.
In the shy, quiet light, his blade would be drawn, and he would leap for Eliot.
|
|
Eis
.
Posts: 189
|
Post by Eis on Oct 21, 2021 17:49:41 GMT -8
She almost feels guilty - no; scratch that. She feels terribly guilty for the cleanest possible solution to this 'problem'. That insidious gun. It is all she can do to push back the unsettling memories the thing brings about and bring the instrument to bear. It feels awkward in her hands, but her need to give the afflicted dreamer a quick end is more than enough to help her focus. In the stunned victim's hesitation, Eis takes aim and squeezes the trigger.
|
|
|
|
Post by Victor on Oct 22, 2021 4:27:50 GMT -8
Victor grit his teeth. He was slow, his aim was poor, and his magic was wholly unsuited to the task. Next year, he'd have to be more forceful about being only present to assist in the aftermath- though how he would get more obvious than writing it in all caps he wasn't sure. Maybe he'd wear a sandwich board sign with the letters printed in bold red paint.
"STOP!"
He didn't have to dismiss the Wyrd that cloaked him- desperate yelling did a fine enough job of that, as did the pistol he was pointing at her.
"If you want to live, you'll quiet down and listen to me real carefully..."
His eyes were wide, and he spoke in a tone that mirrored her own, almost as if to try and convince her that she wasn't the one being threatened. It was incredibly stupid and risky, but he wasn't lying and he hoped that might be enough to save the both of them, for admittedly a dubious definition of the word. Eis and the She-Wolf had explored the idea of keeping one for study, and if he could just get her to comply as a captive he might be able to buy her some time. Of course it might be a fate worse than death, and it likely would end in her death anyways, but most of the alternatives in this scenario involved Victor waking up the whole block with gunfire and having to escape a police cab on attempted murder charges (for he would surely not actually hit her), and he really would rather not.
Tomorrow, in a more sensible state, he'd curse the murderous drive that would push him to even consider this to be an acceptable route over simply letting her go. Tonight however, he was just glad to be able to push back enough to ensure his plans weren't far more likely to be terminal to him than his target.
|
|
|
|
Post by The She-Wolf on Oct 22, 2021 22:15:22 GMT -8
The unsettling bearded man comes out, presumably to help. NO, she would not be calm! Rather than engaging him, she kept her distance, walking backwards and shouting if he wants to help her, he can call the police to pick her up. No unmarked cars pretending to be Lyfts or Ubers: she wasn't going to get Ted Bundy'd or trafficked to God Knows Where. The way her volume oscillated with the uncontrolled shaking, he got the sense that there wasn't really an option to reason with her distress. Was it the Keeper's influence? Could she see him? Was this just a situation where she would refuse a stranger asking her to stop shouting? A woman called out in Mandarin from one of the caged 24-hour convenience stores as she slid the metal grate, and when she didn't get a response, gestured for the woman to come inside with snippets of English, also telling Victor, "It's okay! Go, please!" in a firm tone. "My husband gets his gun. We will help!"
The mention of the gun could have been a bluff, or a threat; but her voice was even and could have just as easily been to reassure him that Grace would be protected. She offered the same demand, asking the good Samaritan to please just call the police to take her home. -- Elliot and Faye spun their heads, not knowing where the third had disappeared to as the nightmare took a fourth underwater. Faye actually screamed, hands going to her mouth in confused despair, only to see the knife flicker and drag across Elliot's throat and revealing Oren from nothing. A gunshot rings out, and the teenager crumples with the bullet burrowing through her skull—only having a moment to register the weapon being pointed through the glamour of Eis' presence. A mass of roaring mouths and gnashing teeth rose behind them, red water flying as the Ogre casually stepped from the depth of the pool. "Claim their skulls for Mother Autumn," the She-Wolf instructed, the severed bloody stump lolling out of her maw as she emerged from the water. Faye was frozen, shaking as her eyes wandered over and up, losing strength in her knees as the multi-eyed monstrosity rippled to shake off chlorine and the Mask. The skin came next, hair and meat rapidly aged and rotted, sloughing off from the skeleton of the massive Wolf as the shell of the Chrysalis burst into ash and fiery leaves on the wind. Rather than the single head, viciously snapping at the chains of Reality, the Wyrd bloomed freely from the Knight's mien as it tried to settle. "My form, told and true. Blessed crone—we reach the end of your cycle, but shall heed your wisdom. A dreaded pact so others will stay on the trail and remember your fate. In return, I spare thee from the Ashen Hunt." She chewed on her palm, offering the blood to mark the mortal in a promised Bargain. Research on her brain would be required. |
|
|
|
Post by Victor on Oct 27, 2021 1:09:55 GMT -8
"I have a phone! I'll make the call."
Victor lowered his hands to his jeans pocket, retrieving and holding up one of his burner phones for the two women to see
"I think there's gang movement happening out here tonight-"
He spoke loud enough for them to hear, but the forceful tone from earlier was out of his voice. He brought his phone's volume low, then swiped over to his contacts and brought up Eis' number
"-If they aren't looking for you it should be fine, but we should really hunker down and get quiet."
The receiver went up to his ear and he waited on the rings, praying that his fellow autumn would answer.
|
|
|
|
Post by Krakenbox on Oct 30, 2021 22:20:33 GMT -8
As Victor put his hands in his pockets, Grace gunned it into the convenience store. The woman's eyebrows went up, posture settling as she could see it was a phone even at his distance. She shouted a thanks as she pulled the gate closed with slippered feet; the neon of the OPEN sign winking off shortly afterwards.
The Spirit cried out in frustration with the closing metal, and Victor realized the feral growl was coming from his own throat.
His hair was standing on end, and he shook himself off in a violent tremor as his foot found an outlet for the manic energy by kicking the dumpster. Now wasn't the time to lose it, with his group relying on him. He could easily use the Arcadian Crown to gain access to the building and shoot from supernatural cover, or he would have to come back to the group empty handed with a loose end. Just in case, he checked to see if Eis had returned his call... she must have had her hands full with the rest.
|
|
|
|
Post by Victor on Oct 31, 2021 6:23:10 GMT -8
Victor pursed his lips. Usually he did well under stress, making the beast within him a novel and disruptive force that was altogether unwelcome. Thankfully, he did have more than one number to call. He tapped another quick contact and pressed the receiver to his ear again, trying to avoid digging his nails into his pallid cheek.
"Hey. Its V."
With the runner and her would-be rescuer out of earshot, he didn't need to speak in code, though his tone was hushed regardless. He pretended he was just being cautious, ignoring the gritted teeth and welling rage that would have made its self apparent had he spoken any louder.
"I need the mark flushed out of a building. Said there were gang fights in the area. Would be mighty useful for one to appear 'round where I'm at..."
even before he hung up the phone, he had his hands on the holster of his gun. Trying to shoot her while she was running away from him in a quiet environment was an absolute disaster waiting to happen. Shooting her at point blank while she was running towards him in a loud environment was a very different matter. All he needed to do was to make sure he was in her running path and get back into lightshy. He gave his contacts the street address, the building, Grace's description, and a suggestion for which alley he would rather she be flushed into. On an affirmative, he slipped into his ambush, into lightshy, and began to wait.
All Victor needed to do was to turn her into a corpse. Because corpses were easy, and he knew how to handle those.
|
|
