{ Trespass RP } A Halloween Afterparty

[TrespassCo]

(( Welcome to this "After Halloween - Let's keep the spookiness going a little longer - Let's take a breather after all the frenzy - Bring personas out of storage - Come out & play" Rp event.

All people, characters and pets are welcome.

Fighting etc is allowed IC, and it's not likely that anyone here would godmod - control what happens to other muns' characters - or get beyond PG-13 in a thread, but here was the obligatory no-no. ))

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The Environments - Pavillion, Wooded Park, Cemetery

Pavillion
A pavillion of airy shelter, open like a gazebo, stands on a paved courtyard surrounded by neat and freshly trimmed grass. The structure gives off a bright and cheerful air with its carved wooden pillars painted white. Orange and purple lights strung around every beam and roof edge lend an intimate muted glow. Jack-o-lanterns and lit lantern bats - along with pinatas of the same - round out the decorations nicely, along with gossamer streamers. The occasional sprinkle of glitter sifts down from tulle netting pouches each time the breeze stirs, spicing up the area or the guests themselves.

Several tables with benches and chairs await under the pavillion, and more than one is filled with all sorts of edibles and beverages. One portion, free of furniture, gives space for a group of musicians setting up. Besides electric guitars, drums and mics, a violin and cello is also evident - rock or classical or a hybrid of both, their style remains to be seen. [NPCs free to anyone to play.]

This welcoming area takes place at the edge of this town's bay. Rather than a beach or jumble of rocks, the edge is a seawall level with the grass forming a sidewalk right there at the edge. Thus the water is somewhat deep to begin with, at the very least safe to jump or wind up in without an unpleasant landing.


Wooded Park
The park leading up to the Pavillion area blends from green lawn with trees dotting here and there, to a wooded section with paths carving through for joggers and nature walks. While friendly during daylight, at the nighttime there is nothing but a flickering glow off in the distance, no other witnesses in sight, and nothing but the light of the moon overhead (if visible between the branches) and the crisp swish of dried leaves and pine needles underfoot. Just hope that movement up ahead is another guest or visitor like yourself.


Cemetery
Alongside the public park is a cemetery for the town, sensible in a zone ideal for outdoor use. Classical knee-high round gravemarkers form disorderly rows along with majestic memorials, lifesize angels, and phantasmagoric sculptures. Posh stone mausoleums break up the landscape, ranging from small sheds to houses all their own.

The only color is found in momento mori flowers, ranging from brittle dried stems to so freshly snipped the petals still bead with dew.

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The Invitation

(( Perhaps you wandered here on your own. Perhaps it was more than a coincidence - invitations were mailed out to a select group offering an evening of delightful food, music and atmosphere.

A party opportunity for mixing it up, and ominous scene for a few more days of fright. Voila.

Event is -open- and lasts until someone calls the cops or you wake up in Vegas. ))

[~Night Creature~]

-=The lady moves with hurried steps and a wary yet distracted air as she gives the tombstones and family crypts cursory glances along her progress. Each shadow, dark voids behind those same stone works, receives no more than a token flick of the eyes.

Dressed in soft material of blacks and violets, she would almost be found secretive and camouflaged in the moonlit night if it weren't for the doses of skin, paler than most, standing out more than the gleaming marble monuments and polished wrought iron. Otherwise her attire brings an impression of reasonably covered while quite enticing, refined for a social gathering yet easy to move in.

The lady mutters to herself like the White Rabbit, preparations-that-should-be-in-place this and band-that-better-live-up-to-its-reputation that.






-=A party. No, it hadn't taken the batwinged slip of a boy many more words than that to get him out of the house. It did, however, take a great deal of convincing that anything suggested by his female and slightly maternal guardian could possibly conceive of matching his own underground fests populated by youthful runaways. Threats, coaxing, but finally the lure of "new" playmates who hadn't yet been shown the marvels of glowstick twirling, with their own dance moves and candy to trade, did the trick.

Pointed ears, petite pointed canines, and highlighter yellow eyes mark Raze as other than human, apart from the wings. Far from immortal, the uber thin bish who looks to be in his early teens hasn't racked up a century of life as one might suppose; less than ten is more like it. But chronocological age has nothing to do with his behavior as the spiky-haired raver loops and whirls against the sky, a living rainbow of movement in his lit armbands and radical club gear, with silky clouds far above and patchwork trees far below.=-








-=Black feathered pinions unfolded and resettled, the only extraneous movement of the eternally patient seraph. A sabbatical - an absense of any human or sentient contact completely - of several unimaginable, uninterrupted seasons has brought a deeper bronze to muscles toned as ever if not more so, as well as an ephemeral tranquility to his eyes and ease to his movements. Ephemeral indeed, perhaps not to last longer than the first word spoken by some wallowing-in-ignorance human. There is that. There is also, he knows in the back of his mind with the certainty of his blessing, those of wit, insight, and flashy dynamite spirit such as the cub who refused to submit in an out of hand test fight and the feisty woman who had straddled him in the snow, or indeed, never backed down from his feints for dominance.

Several dozen yards from the warmly lit pavillion, slouching against one of the nearest gnarled trees, he deigns the cluster of musicians not worth expending a breath in speech. Nevertheless the dispassionate angel allows himself some 'entertainment' as he observes their movements and clangs as they arrange the different instruments and tune.=-

[Komitadjie]

Leharl looked out through his rain-lashed canopy seeing nothing but the lightning-laced blackness of storm clouds. The ride was, to put it mildly, abominable, with the fighter-bomber lurching up and down in five to nine G yanks as Leharl fought with the controls to maintain some semblance of directional control. Damn, why in the world did I insist on coming down in a bomber? Cripes, I could have just pod-dropped through this whole stinking mess. He shifted his eyes back down to the instruments on the panel, sweeping the artificial horizon, turn-and-bank indicator, and VSI. The radar was caged straight ahead, primarily tasked into making sure that there wasn't something more solid than water in the air in his path, while the heads-up display showed a projected path around the worst of the storm cells.

Down and down the bomber fell, the nose down in a 50-degree dive as Leharl searched for the bottom of the cloud deck. It had to be around there somewhere, this miserable mess couldn't go down all the way to the ground.

[~Night Creature~]

-=NC continued on her way, beginning to huff from her long trek across the cemetery acres, starting to curse her so-called shortcut that had made so much sense at the time. The woman stopped beside one of those oh-so appealing stone mausoleums, elaborate housing in miniature, and let the pings of working muscles settle down in her legs, supporting her back and skull against the chilled wall. As she caught her breath she raised a hand to the pendant around her neck, idly toying with the pointed crystal and its setting.

All too suddenly a glow from that same spot beneath her jawline jerked her head down. Eyes widened at recognition of the light, while frantically her mind raced. "Builds up energy from your body's kinetic motion, he said. Release it anytime for selfprotection, he said." Wondering what the backlash would be she squirmed backwards though of course that made no sense, holding the pendant out with one arm as far from her body as possible. At the very least she got around one corner of the mausoleum and held the chain and device around the other facet - there, that exposed a hand but nothing else. She cringed.

With no harm to target, the protector nonetheless expended the buildup from all its owner's movements - in one dazzling burst of light expanding outwards like a wave and upwards like a beacon. The lady had time to marvel at the heavenly blue beauty before the affect subsided, leaving the cemetery in greys as before yet much more comforting.=-

[Komitadjie]

The nose slowly rose as Leharl eased back on the sticks, shallowing the bomber's headlong dive through the wind and rain. As he neared the ground, visibility slowly increased until he burst through the cloud deck at a tad under a thousand feet of altitude. His radar was going slightly ape at the terrain rising all around his flight path, and he rolled a knob under his right thumb to extend and curve the mission-adaptive wings slightly more, slowing his flight and giving him a bit more maneuverability. As an afterthought, he ordered the canards to their high-maneuverability "down" setting. His eyes traced over the terrain outside, then down to his instruments, then back outside in an orderly, trained pattern. Flying in weather like this was safe enough if you kept aware of what you were doing constantly, but any mistake could be spectacular. Still doing nearly mach-1, he blew out of the mountains and onto a flat plane. It was almost by pure chance that he was looking up when it happened, but his reaction to the great blue-silver globe bursting on the ground almost directly in his flightpath, to the accompaniment of a warning screech from the thread receiver, was immediate and instinctive. Both paws shoved their respective sticks fully forward in their slideways, calling up immediate, maximum, water-injected power from the dual reactors in the mid-fuselage at the same time as he pulled them both back to their stops, the bomber's nose snapping into a steep vertical climb. He eased the sticks over as he climbed, spiraling the bomber evasively upward, opening his flight path farther and farther from the line he was on when he started the climb. He toggled his radio to transmit, and broadcast in the clear. "Dropshot, dropshot, this is Foxtrot Whiskey Six, declaring a dropshot on my position! Advise all Foxtrot units to remain clear, Foxtrot Whiskey Six in recon."

He dumped the nose again, rolling hard to the left and letting gravity pull him over and down. This time he left the throttles right where they were, blazing downward at nearly mach-3 in the dive. Knowing that he had flat terrain under him allowed him much more freedom, and he made use of it by pulling out of the dive at five hundred feet and mach 2.75, nearly the speed of a rifle bullet. His paws checked by feel the status of the bomber's weapons, locked in their safe positions, and he left them there. No need in being unsafe, at least until he had a better idea what the heck that was. There wasn't supposed to be anything ON this planet capable of producing coherent emissions like that, and he didn't intend to become another case of "well, that was surprising."

[Red_Hope]

Kalina had a good view of the cemetery, the water, and the pavilion from her perch high in a tree, her usually over-sized cat ears somewhat wilted as she stared off into space, just finding the area comforting for some reason. Periodically, her eyes went to the water, but for what reason, she had no idea. She sighed, looking around, then upwards, before she froze as light suddenly came up from behind her, reflecting off the very edges of her Romani Glasses.

After a moment, she looked back trying to find where it had come from, leading her to look downward. "What the hell?!"

Kennith looked up from where he was getting food for himself, his messy red hair rustling with a stray breeze, and matching eyes going upwards as he felt a roll of thunder in his veins. "Gonna be rain here soon..."

[Apathetic Nonchalance]

Bright song, also visible in silken strands of music and song, drifted through the warm, humid air as though but dandelion seedlets on the breeze. Apathetic looked upward, where a small figure was spiraling lazily far overhead, so far that most eyes - that is, eyes no sharper than a human's - would have caught little besides a vague, dark shadow, nothing more than perhaps a passing cloud. Apathetic was no more, at least not right now, than your average human; his eyes, a warm and almost tender garnet, were not much more than 50/50, but he knew enough to tilt his head back and smile.

The flight-path of the tiny shadow altered slightly; from somewhere, perhaps some distance away, a flash of dimming and rapidly-fading lightly startled the avian from her airborne dance. With a slight tilt of her wings and a re-aligning of her neck, Millia dropped like a stone towards the earth, with a speed and a suddeness that would have startled her guardian had he not become used to it by now. As though the change in the air had taken her off-guard, Millia made a beeline for the man standing beneath in the grove, where the trees bent their limbs backwards and opened a path to the sky.

Apathetic, a slight look of concern inching across his features, lifted a hand and left it outstretched, and with a flaring of rose-lavender wings the diamond dove settled easily on her guardian's hand, as she had done a thousand times before. Apathetic ran a reassuring hand down the dove's head and neck as Millia fluffed herself up and smoothed her feathers back into place.

"What was that, hm?" mused Apathy, used by now to speaking his own thoughts aloud to Millia as if in conversation, although of course the bird could not answer back. "It's going to be an interesting party, isn't it?"

Millia cooed softly, warbling slightly; since she had fledged, the dove had seen much in Barton and beyond, but still she had interacted with few besides Nonchalance himself. The numerous children who had clapped at the pretty colors relfecting off of Millia's wings, the adults who had smiled at her song and fed her crumbs or seeds, they were just blurred faces-- Only the face of her guardian was in focus, so if he said the party would would be interesting, than it would be. Whatever a 'party' was.

Emerging from the edge of the forest, Apathetic started up the long, slightly-sloping green sward that led to the pavilion, which appeared as a small white structure some distance away.

^ Apathetic Nonchalance-the-character, in natural habitat ^

[~Night Creature~]

(( Quick summary - Alchemist NC made a glowing path to help light her way. It's a circuit linking all areas, shaped like a giant winking jack-o-lantern. Those in the air or in a tree might be able to make out the shape it is. wink ))

-=The blonde had just barely caught some measure of balance and center over the alarm and stark, heightened alertness with every fraction of a second etched in photographic quality. Holding that Fela pendant gingerly at arm's length, she hesitantly brought the now-dim artifact closer to bear for inspection, then finally tapped it with first nails, then fingertips of her free hand. With a fumble to the back of her neck, a cursory feel for the clasp resulted in no speedy way to undo the short chain from her neck, so she limply set it back down against her collar. "No spontaneous combustion, although that's always how I said I wanted to go," she tittered in head spinning relief.

No sooner had she composed herself and gotten a move on to finish her "shortcut" than a sonic boom like thunder shot over the terrain, far behind the speeding craft with its stellar maneuvers. The warning served to call her attention to the growing cloud cover and the impending rain, which brought another mutter as if the weather itself were a misbehaving puppy. "Oh sure, this direction made perfect sense. Oh sure, this week the moon was full or nearly and there'd be plenty of light to see. Oh sure, people keep lampposts on in cemeteries in the middle of the night. What was I thinking. Humph."

Taking a moment she bent down, claimed a dry twig from some nearby scenic shade tree, cast a glance about, and knelt beside what could only be referred to as a grave soon to be in use, perhaps prepared a day or more in advance. The blameless mound of piled dirt beside the rectangular pit made a clean surface in which to draw impressions in the shifting grains - a transmutation circle unused in many years, and far from the specialty of humanform transformations, but once begun, still ingrained in body memory like a song memorized in a foreign language. On and on she went, adding further instructions, improvized as freestyle, until her circle became a spiral, eventually facing a full 360 degrees in the process - but not, out of superstition or respect, angled to have her feet or shins broach the future resting site itself. "That should do it... probably." Seconds later the nearby blades of grass and the microbial bacteria in the plain bare earth all turned luminescent - glowing aquamarine in a double trail from that spot. {Pull trace amounts of elements from the environment, and alter the cellular makeup in this manner. Let the path change for this angle and continue on for this much... } Like dominoes the effect rolled on into the distance, with thinner or heavier sidetrails splitting off or petering out as instructions decreed.

Visitors in all areas might appreciate a little extra illumination. But those from a vantage point of any height might recognize that the phenomenon correctly put together a jack-o-lantern similar in scope as Nazca Lines... and a winking one, at that.=-

[~Night Creature~]

-=A shift in the wooded land: movements too regular and too much like a midair trail brushing the tips of branches and their moisture-softened needles to give the impression of mere wind. Perhaps it was the worstening weather that drove an other winged entity out of the skies. Or perhaps the new flood of phosphorous light or the fortuitous gusts and quirks of tree limbs that brought a glimpse of the 'human' and petal-colored Trespass below. But something made its way towards Apathetic, behind partial cover above, with the snap of leather wings on a scale far more considerable than the explorative Diamond Dove. The entity had to be close to human size.

"Where do you belong?" Wind drove the words back to their source and blustered them forwards again, gusted them around tree limbs until it became trickier than ever to guess their source were it not for the impressions of the figure homing in. Distortions gave the query the eldritch sound of an apparition, the timbre of portent.-=


-=The seraph gauged the approaching shower a moment too late as the first water droplet briefly fastened a point on this occasion's white silk blouse to his chest. Without changing his expression at the inarguable turn of events he made his way to the pavillion and its cover. A few steps touching down here and there and a few wingbeats, and Tesrael cleared the distance by skimming the earth without appearing to put in an ounce of effort at all. Black feathered pinions folded adeptly once he crossed the supporting pillars and picnic furniture.

Evenly appraising the mortal musicians as a chaotic bunch thus far, he continued on to the edibles and the redhead partaking, and gave a slow nod of acknowledgement. Thinking better of it he added mildly, "By any chance have you arrived just for an easy meal?" And, if one gave it a second thought, was there a trace of humor in the vulture seraph's delivery?=-

-=Meanwhile the band, finding an audience of two to witness either their disorderliness or their glory, began to jam.=-

[Komitadjie]

Leharl shook his head and laughed, pulling smoothly back on the sticks to arc the bomber upward and to the left, tapping his speed brakes to decelerate back below the Mach. There was only one person he knew on the world that would be THAT ostentatious with a supersonic bomber buzzing overhead.

"Foxtrot Whiskey Six, stand down Dropshot alert. Dropshot is canceled, repeat, dropshot is canceled. Dropshot by friendly forces, no hostile activity. Foxtrot Whiskey Six proceeding with flight plan."

He made a long, lazy arc over the area at a thousand feet of altitude, the bomber's wings warping and extending to their slow-speed configuration for better maneuverability. A flick of his right paw moved the canards to their low-speed maneuvering position, and he came around final, picking a long, smoothly-contoured field as his strip. He reached forward with his left paw, moving the gear handle from the up-and-locked position to the 'down' position. The bomber rumbled as the gear doors swung open and the landing gear extended, the indicators changing from red, to crosshatched, to green as each gear fully extended and locked in it's 'down' position. At two hundred feet he checked his drift against the trees, and checked his radar for any major obstructions on his landing path, finding nothing. The landing gear slashed through the knee-high grass, parting it like water before the main trucks touched, a jolting rattle that shook the bomber. Leharl slid the sticks fully back, then past their detents into reverse. Exhaust nozzles constricted to their smallest settings, and louvers on the front of the engine cowlings popped open, diverting a good deal of the engines' thrust forward to slow the bomber as the nose gear touched down.

A few moments later, the bomber was down to fifteen miles an hour, and Leharl relaxed his paws from the sidesticks, using the rotate pedals to steer the nose gear. He guided the bomber slowly back across the field down the path he'd carved in the grass with his landing, the floaty-wobble feeling of the big oleo struts letting him know that this wasn't exactly a paved strip he'd chosen. Now, somewhere right around here was where that light had come from... up the hill and left, if memory (and the bomber's INS) served...

[~Night Creature~]

-=The madame stared upwards, stricken, as the craft came seemingly only a couple hundred feet away, above and at a distance. Incredible detail caught her eye as it slowed, as if it were no further than a model hanging from the ceiling. A news helicopter commonly seen flying it sure wasn't, but fleeting paranoia gave her scrambling to hypotheses about any other suspicious factions of Gaia. Nevertheless... believing had kept a soft spot for... Well, either it was investigators or a long-seperated ami, and either way deserved to be met head on like a kamikaze! With an energy she didn't have a moment ago during her walk she took off running. Scarfs sailed out behind her her boots drummed a rhythm on the turf.

Within range of the clear space, she stopped at one of the last trees before breaking cover completely and caught her breath with a palm against the bare trunk. Familiar outlines of armor and cat ears were unmistakable. She dashed to the open, yelling with rock concert intensity: "LEHARL! That better be you! If not you owe me the story of why you landed instead of him! How's Teal'c? HEY!"

[Red_Hope]

"Nah... 'Mom' wanted an escort here. What better protection does a girl have save for someone who can toast a bad guy?" He smirked a bit, looking towards the band in curiosity, putting some food in his mouth. Yeah, he was a bit cocky, but he also didn't know of too many that could toss a fireball at someone like he could.

Kali squeaked as she felt a cold wet drop of rain hit her, and quickly scrambled down from the tree, falling the last ten feet and landing hard on her back. "Ow..."

She shook her head and huffed, getting to her feet and dusting her rump off before heading to the pavilion, quickly. She saw a figure dart ahead and through the trees, but headed for the pavilion. The pavilion was dry.

[Komitadjie]

Leharl chuckled when he saw that he wasn't far off in his guess. Only one person on this planet would come running out of cover like that. He pulled the throttles back into their cutoff detents, and quickly worked his way through the engine and reactor shutdown checklists, the engines' whine dying away, the grass behind the bomber slowly standing back up again from where it had been whipped flat by the jet blast. He reached down into the seat pocket and retrieved the safety pins, the first one went into his capsule-ejection handle, locking it physically in place to secure it against an accidental tug on the ground. The others he shoved into his left chest pocket, the bright orange streamers dangling out across his chest.

He reached over and pulled the manual canopy release, unlocking the left side of the lexan bubble from the hydraulic lift cylinders, and pushed it up until it clicked in place. A sinuous twist took him out of the cockpit, and he was instantly glad for his armour as the cold air outside touched his ears and face after the warmth of the cockpit. He raised a paw to wave to the running figure coming toward him, and smoothly leaped down the ten feet to the ground below the bomber. His first order of business there was to reach up and insert one of the safety pins into the cannon muzzle shield on the left side, then to walk down the wing, stopping to stick a pin into each of the three Python advanced long-range radar-guided missiles.

[~Night Creature~]

-=The seraph gave a trifling raise of an eyebrow at the youth's cockiness. "Such energy, such a young and firey spirit. And using language like 'bad guy' besides." From his tone and absence of expression anyone other than the speaker might find difficulties determining whether Tesrael was condescending or bemused or even sizing the redhead up like a morsel. "Perhaps a demonstration later, if you're so inclined to flex your muscles. And if you are stronger than this 'Mom' why serve her?" he inquired smoothly.=-

-=The Fela's wave gave her the boost of encouragement to carry on sprinting the rest of the way, along with a flash of envy at that agile and fearless jump to the ground. Every yard forward confirmed what was blazing at the front of her mind: of the few of this race she had glimpsed in rows and rows of honor guards or had the chance to meet with at length, she would know this golden fur and facial shape anywhere. "Hey." She thumped him hard on the bicep or rather where the muscle would have been underneath the armor plating, holding back in her swing with more sound than force rather than jolt her knuckles for no purpose. "It's really great of you to be here. Where's Teal'c and how is he?"

[Red_Hope]

Kennith looked at the winged person next to him, unaware of him being a 'seraph'. He liked the idea of 'flexing his muscles' very much. "I'm not serving her." He popped another morsel of food in his mouth, chewing a bit before swallowing and continuing, "I just watch out for her. She's like my guardian and all that."

Kali was hurrying and soon spotted the familiar bright red that belonged to her 'adopted' son. At least he was staying out of trouble. She just wished she could get to the shelter of the pavilion faster then her short legs were allowing.