Briiva had made her way back to the inn safely, at least she was pretty sure she was safe, and not about to magically transform into a furry wild beast. She was focused more at the ground than anything, when she heard a frantic chittering in her ear: It would seem that there were some of those so called 'witches' directly in front of her, and her furry companion Arthur seemed none too happy about them. And honestly, if they were behind any of the trouble that had erupted back at camp, Briiva was none too happy with them either.
"Hey! You! Yeah, the Hot Topic wannabes!" The kids turned around, confusion crossing their face at first. Briiva was only 26, and she really even then didn't look her age. That confusion turned into something else however at catching the look in Briiva's eyes as she went and charged herself straight at them.
Her shoulder still hurt, but right now her anger overcame any feeling she had in it. If these brats had even an inkling to do with Briiva's friends and colleagues being made into mindless animals, she was going to have words. Maybe throw in a couple of fists too, free of charge.
They scattered like cockroaches, though she was able to grab one by his hoodie while the others abandoned him for their own safety from this crazy girl carrying around a bow that normal people had no business carrying at all. As Briiva pulled him back and pushed the kid's back against the wall, Arthur continued making angry noises, barring his teeth for good measure.
"Alright, buddy. You're going to tell me a little about whats going on with this people becoming animals bullshit, or I'm going to let my friend here sharpen his teeth with your skull."
Arthur looked immediately distressed by the statement, but at catching the coy wink Briiva gave him, he doubled down and did his best to look intimidating. And impressively, he sort of pulled it off. Briiva certainly wouldn't want to get in his way at least.
"H-Hey, don't hurt me! I don't know much, but.." The kid looked around, making sure that none of his friends were around to see him about to snitch. "She lets go of any of the animals that are too wild. There are others that she keeps close to her, for protection though."
"That's it? aw, <********> kid! That doesn't help me any! Get out of here. I wouldn't look back, I might decide I need some target practice!"
Briiva couldn't help but chuckle as the kid fled, almost tripping over himself in the process.
Character Name:Brianna Pavlovich Brief description of character: Headstrong and impulsive, Briiva is an excitable, over zealous ball of energy that can explode at the slightest provocation. While friendly and always ready to help out, she has a flair for the dramatic and will get carried away more often than not.
Caleb wasn't a fan of talking to people. He wasn't much of a fan of people, really. But the mission called for him to investigate further into what exactly was going on in this swamp town, so talking to people it was. He went to the bar to at least have some beers as he poked around, targeting a group of wiccan teenagers who thought they were oh-so-cool just because they dressed and acted like a bunch of idiots. ******** teenagers.
"Your cult sounds mad sick yo," Caleb said, trying to relate to however teenagers speak. Ugh, he wasn't normally so awkward. He started to chug his beer. "What can you tell me about it?"
One of the wiccans smirked and leaned in, seeing right through Caleb's poorly-acted charade. Cult? Immediately asking for info? He had reason to be untrusting.
"Well, we have these massive orgies in the woods every night," the teen started.
"Really? Orgies?" Caleb cocked a brow. He nearly bought it - it seemed like the weird s**t that he'd imagine these wiccans were into.
"Yeah, man, massive orgies, the entire town is there, it's nuts," he continued on. "But at the end of each one, we castrate someone at random in honor of our demon god, Gandalf."
Caleb's expression went flat. "Gandalf? Don't ******** bullshit me. That's a Harry Potter character."
"What? No, it's not."
"Stop lying. Yes it is," Caleb was growing infuriated.
"No, like, I was lying before but no bullshit, he's not a Harry Potter character," the wiccan started laughing in his face.
Then the wiccan started crying, because Caleb punched square in the jaw before being thrown out of the pub.
Character Name:Caleb McCloud Brief description of character: Caleb is a strong and silent type, but when he does speak, he's probably being an a*****e. But he's got a hell of a jawline, so he's got that going for him at least.
Despite all your best efforts, the wiccans refuse to talk to you -- unless, of course, they deign to give you just enough attention to make fun of you. They certainly aren't going to give you any help.
As he made his way down the street, Rob could still feel the smack of Sid's large colorful wing against his face as she panicked and flew away. The anger he felt at those kids and Circe casting spells not only on the other Chosen who had turned into animals, but on Sid as well, felt like it was burning a hole in his stomach. There had to be some way of turning her back -- and the witchy kids had the answers.
He came upon another group of them standing around in front of the tea shop, and again approached them in a punk-like manner, though he tried to suppress his rage a little better this time. No reaction from the kids though, this group just ignored him. That only made him angrier, and he loudly demanded answers. Did they have anything to do with Circe? Where was she? The teens continued to ignore him, chattering amongst themselves as if he wasn't even there.
Finally he had enough. Throwing them the two-finger bird, he stormed off, heading back to camp. He'd help Sid and the rest some other way.
Character Name:Robin Attewood Brief description of character: Rob is a dreadlocked punk who's secretly a Boy Scout, a grump with a heart of gold. Pugnacious, fiercely independent and "on" all the time, he loves wine, women and song and is the biggest beer snob on the planet.
And then, of course, after the one (mild) success, it was like his luck was out for the day. Another round of teasing, only this time at least he could recognize it. He played along a little further-- this time he didn't worry about being laughed at.
He wanted to see how the teasing playing out. Was it the same? Did any of the faces laughing at him look like they were laughing through other emotions? He couldn't tell, but he was curious to see if anything like that was happening.
Lex had walked into the bathroom to clean up. He had fought racoons, and wrestled a gator, and his scarf was gone, and he was a mess. A complete and utter mess. The camp site, well who was going to trust anything in the camp after all that mess. He sighed and paused, watching the shaking teenager. “You okay?” He questioned, offering a wad of paper towel to the distressed teen before turning on the sink and splashing cool water on his face.
He picked gross bits out of his curls and gave a soft sign as he soaked his hands under the cooling spray of the sink, letting water rinse away blood and other gross bits. He damped some paper towel and scrubbed at a stubborn scrape at his elbow.
“Did you want to talk about it?” He asked, as he finished cleaning up to the best of his abilities, looking at the teen concerned. They were trembling, fingers nearly scratching their skin in their desperation to get off their makeup. “Slow down.”
“Don’t want this, don’t…here. Just take this.” The teen said, thrusting something into Lex’s hand. “She…she in the woods. In an old manor.” With their words said, they barreled out the bathroom, the door slamming in his wake.
Lex sighed and slowly opened the paper, brow wrinkling as he attempted to decipher what it was. A map? He folded it carefully and tucked it in the back pocket of his rather woebegone jeans. He sighed, taking a deep breath and patted his curling hair in some semblance of order before stepping out.
"I already got the lowdown from your boyfriend. 'Something going on.' I don't suppose you have any more information?"
She shook her head, then lowered it and scampered away dejectedly, looking a little like one of the transformed Chosen. Well, now he felt kind of bad.
Quote:
You must have said something to reach your mark. They look nervous and uncomfortable, some of their stiff, "who-gives-a-s**t" attitude melting to turn them back into a normal young person. They admit something's going on, but seem too afraid to tell you anything that can be much help. Maybe if you come back and find them again...
At this point, all future efforts in this roll gain a +1. If you roll in this range multiple times, you gain additional +1, with no limit on the top range of your bonus.
Maybe he just looked more serious this time around. More intense. He's more obviously worried - mostly because he wanted a straight story, but also because it was just wrong. He remembered Erica nerding out about invasive species, but also how freaked out that crab had been. And all the experienced people had just...up and left. ********, hahaha.
But this time, when he explained his plight, it looked like the teenagers were actually listening. And it was reluctant, but a guy finally did open up to him. "Look," the kid said. "I can't - I don't know much. But...have you heard of this?" He brought out a white flower with a black stem, and black root. It looked pretty creepy, and it seemed legitimate, unlike the other time. The other kids who were accompanying this one were freaking out that he'd brought it out from behind him, after all. "It's called moly. In mythology...it's helpful."
This kid, on the other hand, was not going to be much more helpful...but it was nice to know that this flower would help. Somehow. Ernst guessed he'd have to look into it.
6 + 2 = 18 I GET DA FLOWER (and +2 for a total of +4 to future rolls)
Briiva left the bar in a huff, shaking her hand to lessen the sting that came from punching someone square in the jaw. Red faced and upset, she calmed herself by patting her furry friends head. "It's okay, there are more people around. We'll figure something out, little fella."
Briiva smiled down at Arthur, finding it hard to be angry when accompanied with such a cute raccoon. She couldn't tell if his look was of concern or hunger, so she just did her best to take care of both. "I'm fine, it's not like I've never punched anyone before today." She reassured him, pulling out a grape and gently holding it out. Arthur grabbed it delicately with both paws, nibbling at it while he snuggled himself back in the comfort of the nook of Briiva's arm.
After being thrown out of the pub, Caleb wandered around the park and spotted another crew of wiccan kids and started scouting for info with them.
"Have you ever seen True Blood?" a wiccan girl asked to provide him some info. Caleb shook his head no. "Well, it's exactly like that, with a little but of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and a whole lot of Glee."
Caleb looked at the girl blankly. Was that supposed to mean something to him? It wasn't until she started laughing that he realized he was being tricked once again.
Character Name:Caleb McCloud Brief description of character: Caleb is a strong and silent type, but when he does speak, he's probably being an a*****e. But he's got a hell of a jawline, so he's got that going for him at least.
Determined not to be discouraged, Sylvia continued wandering through town. She found another group of teens as she approached what seemed to be the end of the exciting part of the town’s main road. Despite not having had much success with asking for directions, she’d yet to come up with a more creative way to approach any locals, so she gave it another shot.
This group was not nearly as snarky as the last, and she decided to open her questions to include the town at large and, well, why it was so deserted. They seemed a bit uncomfortable, but they at least admitted that something was, indeed, amiss. Just what that was or what it meant, however, remained an unspeakable subject. She could tell that she wasn’t going to get anything further, at least not for now, so she thanked them and took her leave with a smile, hoping that her friendliness and the fact that she didn’t push them for more info would make them feel as if they could trust her if she found them again later – which, she hoped, she would…
[ 185; 573 total ]
Quote:
You must have said something to reach your mark. They look nervous and uncomfortable, some of their stiff, "who-gives-a-s**t" attitude melting to turn them back into a normal young person. They admit something's going on, but seem too afraid to tell you anything that can be much help. Maybe if you come back and find them again...
At this point, all future efforts in this roll gain a +1. If you roll in this range multiple times, you gain additional +1, with no limit on the top range of your bonus.
Character Name:Sylvia Owens Brief description of character: Sweet, optimistic, always trying to be helpful – even if it means bluntly telling you how stupid you’re being. Remains tentative about her new life as a Chosen, having never been a fighter…
It didn't take long before all but the first little cretin who'd laughed at him sought Zan out, every last one of them apologetic and contrite.
"W... we think it might be moly," a pudgy, freckled kid said, withering under Zan's glare.
"What the ******** is moly?"
"This." He held out a flower and Zan took it.
"If this is another hilarious joke..."
"No! No, I swear. It's the cure. I'm not sure how to take it... maybe a tea or something..."
One of the others smacked the jittery boy on his back and they began to retreat as a group.
"I'm sorry. We've got to go."
Quote:
After some convincing, the small group you cornered goes quiet and still, fidgeting, picking at their fingers. This group is nervous, and was even before you started talking to them. One of them blurts something out about a myth that says moly is the antidote, but it can also be used as a cure. Or at least rumor has it. They hand you a flower, and the rest glare at them.
At this point, all future efforts in this roll gain a +2. If you roll this number multiple times, you gain additional +2, with no limit on the top range of your bonus.
Briiva had come across another group hanging around, looking up to no good.. but no dice. These took her just as seriously as the last group; Which was to say none at all. Fuming, Briiva muttered profanities to herself as she walked down the streets, absently pressing her cheek against Arthur. This was getting frustrating.
Beth knew she didn't look her best. The humidity was getting to her hair, so she had to tie it back, which she knew did terrible things to the proportions of her face. She had runs in her stockings, mud all over her dress and legs, and was probably an unseemly color red between the sun and the long sleeves. Still, she was able to refresh her toilette and felt reasonably human enough to investigate this group of teenage wiccans.
More human than some of their party, anyway.
She walked up to the first group of the dark-dressed teens and asked, very politely, where they had gotten their wonderful clothing. Some of them had clearly pulled their sweaty black V necks from a general store, but others had leather boots and jackets. They too, looked like they suffered for their fashion, a problem she knew well, and something she brought up.
They seemed to warm to her. She proceeded by asking about their jewelry--all pentagrams and goat heads--mentioning her own interest in the occult, asking them about their practices and such.
When they regurgitated something that could have been read off a particularly fanatical parent's blog warning about the dangers of tabletop RPGs, Beth's smile finally wavered. When they started quoting the spell list of Harry Potter's 3rd year, Beth had to admit that her charms weren't getting her anywhere, though she played along until one of them laughed in her face, calling her a rockabilly wannabe. At which point she had to lift her head, draw herself up to her full 5' 3" height, and bid them farewell.
She at least waited until she was on the way back to the inn before bursting into tears.
Character Name:Beth Almasy Brief description of character: A sweet but skittish beauty who's lived in the lap of luxury her whole life, Beth doesn't quite know what she's doing. She's always willing to support and cheer on her friends, mostly so she doesn't actually have to lift a finger.
Deity: Hera WC: 289
Yekaterin
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thyPOPE rolled 1 20-sided dice:
8Total: 8 (1-20)
thyPOPE
Devoted Hoarder
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Posted: Sun Sep 18, 2016 4:06 am
The next set of kids he interviewed - buoyed by the "knowledge", however scrappy, about the flower - were similar to the first couple. They looked shaken by the idea that people might be in real danger...but maybe Ernst's problem was bringing out the flower he'd been given. That thing didn't seem to attract him any sympathy. "I can't tell you anything," they said to him, although their eyes were lingering on the scratches he was still suffering from.
The one downside of having this mark, really, was that it did look and feel like he'd only barely been scratched. But on second thought: Ernst really liked being alive.
