Sage of Chaos rolled 1 20-sided dice:
10Total: 10 (1-20)
Sage of Chaos
Offline
Posted: Wed Sep 21, 2016 2:44 pm
Izzy sat outside the town's dive bar, enjoying something fast and hopefully-not-poisoned to eat between her attempts to catch more Chosen. The girl had been the only female emo kid among a group of four guys, and was even more striking cause she wasn't mom's-basement-pale in skin tone. The four boys finished their meal and wandered ahead, into the street, while the girl cleaned up some of their left-behind trash. Izzy took the opportunity to slide to the edge of her bench, and speak to the young girl.
"Are you okay?"
She looked around, and then realized Izzy had spoken to her. "Me?"
"Yeah." Izzy jerked her thumb at the gaggle of emo boys. "They treating you right?"
"Huh." She seemed surprised, and stood back after finishing piling up the garbage onto one tray. "Oh, this is one of those girl power things. That's just funny. The one who watches over us, she is really into that kind of thing too."
Izzy's eyes went wide. "Oh?" Like, the leader of these kids? Some of the other Chosen were talking about a local cult, and a Circe.
"Oh totally! She has us read books about feminism, and we talk about what makes us feel insecure, or afraid. She knows how unfair people are to each other, especially girls like us."
"Yeah?" Izzy leaned in.
The girl twirled her thumbs over the blank surface of her phone, like a nervous tic. "She has a lot of ideas about what can be done putting all humans on the same, equal playing field. It's really exciting."
"I bet she has fantasies of turning cat-calling men into actual kittens," Izzy said. Though she thought about her fight with the cougar, and the delicate gold necklace that had been around its neck. "Though, it seems like a lot of men and women around here have been disappearing."
"Hm, funny that." The seemingly meek girl smiled. "Maybe most women don't deserve to be treated like humans either."
"I don't think your leader understands feminism." Izzy set her hands on her hips, and cocked her chin up. "You bring me to her, and maybe I can teach her a thing or two about treating people with respect."
"L-O-L." The wiccan girl laughed, and paid sole attention to her phone again, punching in letters on her phone furiously. She trotted back towards her group of friends. "That's one for the Twitters."
You're able to get an in with these kids, and they're willing to talk to you. At first it seems to be going well but, slowly, you realize that they're bullshitting you. The things they tell you seem less and less true, and more outlandish. Eventually, they can't hold their pokerface any longer and burst into laughter.
She was getting tired, but still just as determined to find information. What other choice did she have? There was so much they didn’t know, and at least she knew that some of these kids must know something. So, she would keep asking, until she felt like she’d talked to every single one of them… and then she’d probably try to talk to them all again.
Still, even the most dogged of investigators were forced to take breaks. Even without eating or drinking much for fear or what would happen, Sylvia eventually found herself in need of a bathroom, so she headed for the familiar bar and restaurant that had been their introduction to the town on their first day. As she entered, she noted a small group of teens laughing in a corner booth and considered that she might stop and try to ask them questions as well before she left.
It turned out that she didn’t have to, though. Sylvia was washing her hands when a girl wearing black jeans with a ton of zippers and a lacy blank tank top came into the bathroom and went to town grabbing paper towels. She pulled her auburn hair back into a tight ponytail and started the water, running her hand under the water to test its temperature. Once it was warm, she ran two towels under the water with a shaky hand and then set to smearing the black makeup around her eyes down her cheeks in hopes of cleaning it off.
“Ah… I don’t really want to butt in, but… are you okay?” It was actually abundantly clear that this girl was not okay, but it was the only opener she could think of. The girl hardly looked at her, just shook her head and made a strangled sort of sound in her throat. Having reduced one eye to something like Halloween makeup, she tossed the paper towels in her hand into the trash and began wetting some new ones.
“Well, do you want to talk about it?” Sylvia leaned against the counter, giving the girl a serious, but concerned look. She responded with a shaky glance, or two, at Sylvia before staring back at her reflection and starting in on her untouched eye. It hardly took a minute for her to get frustrated that the black wasn’t lifting to her frantic efforts. Sylvia placed a hand on her arm, and she finally stopped. The Chosen turned to pick up two of the paper towels the girl had put aside, ran them under some warm water, and turned the girl towards her so she could try her hand at removing the makeup.
Only then did the girl finally talk. “I’m just done. What we’re doing, it’s – it’s stupid, you know?” She shook her head a bit as Sylvia finally got most of the smeared mess off of one cheek. “There… there are people who are getting hurt.” It took a few more minutes to get the rest of her makeup off her cheeks, most of the lining off of her eyes, and her lips back to a normal color.
When Sylvia had finished and they’d wiped off the counter, the girl unzipped a pocket near her knee and pulled out a piece of paper. She looked it over and then looked back at Sylvia, “You’ve been asking questions around town, haven’t you? One of our friends sort of warned us…” She held out the paper and nodded at it when Sylvia took it. “You’ll need that to find her. She’s in some big, old house in the middle of the woods. This is only one piece of the map, but,” she shrugged, “it’s something.”
Sylvia beamed down at the shred of paper. This was great. This was more than she’d hoped for. Sighing, she smiled back up at the girl, “Thank you. This is such a help.” The girl nodded, a half-hearted smile crossing her lips as she wished Sylvia luck before exiting the bathroom.
[ 667; 2,150 total ]
Mika_Yumi
Quote:
You've found a deserter in this one. They are done with the games, done with all this, in the bathroom wiping off their makeup with shaking fingers. They tell you she lives in an old manor out in the woods, and hand you a torn piece of a map -- the only way to find Circe's lair.
At this point, you can no longer participate in this thread, but you gain a bonus 5XP and a piece of the map! To claim your piece, please quote and be blue with your reply to the prompt in this thread!
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…
Brian was ashamed to admit to himself that he had been more nervous about going to investigate the town than he had about battling unknown creatures in the woods. It was in his nature, maybe, to want to avoid conflict without reason. The Chosen had a reason, though. They were being turned into animals, and that whole "protect and serve" thing jibed with wanting to save the civilians who had turned as well. It made sense to go out and battle as much as possible, but there were other things that needed doing too. Maybe Beth had been right. Maybe he could be of some use with the teenagers in town. At the very least he had to try.
After the battle with the frantic deer, Brian made his way around camp and out toward town. He didn't see any other Chosen there at the moment, but that didn't mean there weren't any out here. He saw a stray dog wander by and wondered if he knew it personally.
No, no. Teenagers. Right. besides, nobody wanted a bow drawn in the town square.
Suddenly he understood why everyone was talking about a group of young witches. There they stood, dressed in black and excessive makeup, chatting and laughing. He let out a long breath and pointed.
"You. Come here."
The teenagers turned to look. Two ran off. The remaining one pointed to himself with wide eyes. Me?
"Yeah, you. Come here." Brian crooked a finger toward himself in the way one might sternly summon an unruly teenage delinquent or unwilling witness.
The kid approached, feet shuffling. He tried to look tough. "What?"
Brian lowered his voice and leaned his imposing frame down to speak to the boy in private. "I hear that you and your friends might know something about all of these animals running around in the woods."
"What?"
"About Circe."
The kid's eyes went wide again. "No!"
Brian smiled slightly. "I think you do."
"No! I don't!" the boy insisted. He frowned deeply and started backing up, his hands waving in front of him in defense. "I don't know nothin', Sir!"
"Shh, shh. Calm down," Brian insisted. He flattened out his hand and pushed it down in the air. No, stay calm, keep your composure.
"I don't know anything!" the kid yelped again. He worked his lower lip and then said: "I mean, some of my friends might know?" With that, he scampered off. Brian watched him go. Alright. That could have gone worse. (416)
Kaefaux rolled 1 20-sided dice:
1Total: 1 (1-20)
Posted: Fri Sep 23, 2016 2:02 pm
After everything with the emu, Tara figured she should at least try to look around the town. See what information she could scrounge up about the disappearances, Circe... maybe how to find this witch...
Meant going to talk to the kids whose aesthetic made her nostalgic, and a bit amused at how she had some of those same shirts and skirts back in her closet... Not that she looked it now, something she was immensely aware of as she approached a small group of girls meandering along the sidewalk. One of them spotted Tara, and she flicked on a smile without much thought. Not that this had any impact on the expression the other girl wore, nor her friends' faces as they turned to see what distasteful thing caught the first one's attention.
Well. More like bored annoyance, not flat-out dislike. But Tara still approached without any hesitation in her steps, her eyes taking in their attire, accessories, and tattoos quickly. And... well, with genuine interest. "Hey there!" She lifted her arm to wave, specifically making sure her tattoo was bared and grateful she'd swapped her emblem up to be a loose choker for a while instead of a bracelet--less chance of it getting snagged on stuff in the bayou, she figured.
No, no secret Hey I'm one of you! thing going on, but she at least hoped that by seeing she had a bit of ink on her, and was wearing a moon symbol, that maybe they wouldn't instantly class her as an idiot as she opened her mouth again. "Sorry to bug you guys, but if you don't mind answering some quick questions... your tattoos are amazing. Did you get them done by a local artist, or did you go somewhere else..? I've been trying to figure out where else I could go to find a good artist to get another tattoo." Yeah not the subject of her actual reason for trying to talk to the gothic adorned girls, and all three lifted a brow or blinked a bit.
One shrugged, though her mouth took a sharp turn downward. Something about her made Tara pin her as the eldest of the group she was speaking to, or perhaps it was just the girl's voice. "Like hell there'd be any good artists around here. Have you seen this town?" The scathing, snooty tone made Tara flinch inwardly, but outwardly she gave a sheepish laugh and nodded, acknowledging the naivety of her question.
"You say, even though you've got like... three tattoos from Harper," chimed in another girl, her tone a huffing accusation and her expression pouting friendly towards the snooty one. Rolling her eyes, it was a childish laugh that came forth as she looked at Tara. Her green eyes glittered, and Tara could see the sunlight refracting off the glitter around her eyes from her makeup. "Harper is so talented. Super good at realistic work and line work--like, those neat geometric tats? See, I've got some here he's done!" She proudly extended her arms, rolling up her sleeves and showing her inked forearms. Tara had to admit--the work was good, and she 'oooh' and 'aaah' over them gleefully.
Snooty made a sound of disgust. "She doesn't need to know that, the ******** middle girl--and the tallest, with Glitter being the shortest--the one whom had spotted Tara clicked her tongue, a serene smile on her face that was almost at odds with the amount of fanged skulls she wore in her accessories. "Would you like to meet Harper?" Snooty sputtered and glared up at the tallest, and Glitter clapped her hands. "If you're serious about wanting some new tattoos, talk to him about it. We were just going to meet him for some drinks. Why not come with us?"
Snooty huffed and rolled her eyes, but didn't shove away the idea of Tara tagging along. Glitter was gleeing over the idea, it seemed, and Serene barely waited for Tara to get out a, "Oh, that'd be great!" before she began to walk down the street. Tara had to keep a speedy pace to keep up with the trio, startled by the swap from hostile glares to an offer to have drinks and meet another of their friends.
She was hopeful that perhaps she could poke at the subject of the events happening in the town, see if they could give her any hints for where to look for Circe… wouldn't hurt, after all. She kept track of where they were walking, Glitter prattling on about her different tattoos, Snooty huffing and puffing in her annoyance, and Serene giving soft bits of laughter now and then.
Tara wasn't sure where the others were hiding once the trio turned down one of the streets and she followed. It'd just been the three girls she'd been following. Then there were more people, all wearing the dark attire and matching the goth theme. Tara kept her smile up, laughing a bit still with Glitter as the girl moved back towards her. For a second, Tara thought the laughing girl was doing it to assure Tara things were cool.
The bottle, a dark brown bottle Tara hadn't seen in her hands before, was pressed to her lips. She pressed them shut, trying to step back away from her but Snooty was there, shoving at her back. Serene placed her hands on either side of her head, forcing Tara to remain in place while Glitter shoved the bottle harder against her lips. Her lessons from kickboxing flicked on, and Tara shoved her elbows back into Snooty, kicking out at Glitter's shins.
She got the girls, wasn't shocked about that, but more bodies began to press against her--hands grabbing her, people swearing and laughing. She could hear Glitter and Snooty cussing and those twinkling green eyes were blazing when Glitter came back with the bottle. Her boot slammed hard into Tara's foot and though she kept herself from shouting, other hands and feet began to hit her. Someone grabbed her hair and yanked hard. Nails clawed at her skin. Tara kept pushing at the kids, kept struggling and she knew she was strong enough to handle a few of them... but there were more than one person could deal with.
Someone dug their nails into the side of her neck and Tara yelped. It was the one opening Glitter needed and she shoved more of the opening of the bottle into her mouth. Tara gagged as she felt a liquid being forced into her mouth. The person pulling on her hair yanked it back harder, forcing her head back, allowing the substance to fall down her throat.
How much was in there, or what it was, was lost to her. It was pain and panic that were the only things on her mind. Panic that she wasn't strong enough to defend herself, panic that she was being attacked and no one knew where she was, panic of being surrounded and grabbed and restrained and hurt and she needed to get out of there...
Pain lanced through her body. The nails, the boots, the hands, the pins and the ripping and the clawing and the panic and the pain and the bones snapping and skin ripping and muscles flexing and morphing and get her out get her out get her out get out get out get out get out----
Copper in her mouth. Sharp tang, hot. Someone yelling, loud and piercing in her ears. There was hot copper in her mouth and she felt the pavement beneath her feet. She ran, wrestling away from the pressing bodies and grabbing hands. More copper taste when they wouldn't move. She made them move.
The remains of the tee shirt, jeans, and boots were tattered across the ground between the group of kids, splatters of blood across them and a slight trail leading away from the group as a black wolf darted from the mess. A silver band around the wolf's neck, an emblem with a moon engraved upon it hanging from it as the creature ran in a blind panic into the bayou, trying to find safety from the restraints, from the panic, and the pain.
{WC: 1416}
Quote:
It seems, at first, that you're getting through to these youngsters. One of them looks thoughtful, and then tells you they have something to show you. They lead you off, and you follow them into a trap. Before you know it, you've been surrounded by more of them. They force a potion down your throat and turn you into an animal of your choice. Size is determined by your weapon: agile weapons become small animals, balanced become medium sized, and heavy become large.
At this point, you can no longer participate in this thread, but you gain a bonus 5XP.
It was another group that seemed to offer up more information. They knew where "the witch" lived, they said. She lived in a tree house in the bayou. In fact, you could get there if you followed the path of luminous mushrooms to her lair. Oh, and she rode a hippopotamus and punched babies, ha-ha-ha-ha kids. Ah, screw 'em. Brian wasn't even in his old jurisdiction. He rolled his eyes while they ran off laughing. Thought they were smart, didn't they?
Little shits.
You're able to get an in with these kids, and they're willing to talk to you. At first it seems to be going well but, slowly, you realize that they're bullshitting you. The things they tell you seem less and less true, and more outlandish. Eventually, they can't hold their pokerface any longer and burst into laughter.
A couple of the kids from the laughing group lingered behind. Brian had only expected more teasing, but they offered information significantly less outlandish than the others. That certainly explained why all of those animals had been attacking the group. He nodded his thanks without letting the others in on the fact that some of their buddies had defected, even just a little bit.
So she had pets and protectors. Great. This was going to be one hell of a confrontation.
A couple of the kids linger around after the rest have run off; you caught their attention and, between nervous glance, they tell you that many of the animals are wild and set free, unable to survive, but she keeps others by her side as pets and protectors.
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.
It happened again, but Brian was ready for the run-around this time. The kids who seemed to be willing to help were the ones that separated from the group. If an entire mass of the little shits were willing to shout answers at you in broad daylight, there was probably something wrong. Also, he doubted that Circe had 8 arms.
You're able to get an in with these kids, and they're willing to talk to you. At first it seems to be going well but, slowly, you realize that they're bullshitting you. The things they tell you seem less and less true, and more outlandish. Eventually, they can't hold their pokerface any longer and burst into laughter.
and be blue rolled 1 20-sided dice:
3Total: 3 (1-20)
Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 2:55 pm
Quote:
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.
He couldn't find those same kids again -- couldn't find any faces he recognized, which left Asher in a sour mood. Add to that the fact that every kid he did address just laughed and him and waved him off, whispering to each other under their breath and smirking behind their dark makeup. It made him scowl, finally sliding into the bar to wash his face and stare morosely at the drinks --
And that was when he realized his fly was open. Great.
Sage of Chaos rolled 1 20-sided dice:
4Total: 4 (1-20)
Sage of Chaos
Offline
Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 3:12 pm
Quote:
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.
She hadn't had any luck, at all, in getting any of these crappy kids to give her an ounce of useful knowledge. Eventually her frustration hit the point where she flat out started following around one of the goth kids, staring intently at the back of his spiky head and her eyes gleaming a bright, piercing gold. He scuttled up an alley, and fled around the corner.
The Chosen rounded the turn after him, her fists balled...and saw the wiccan talking to a cop on the sidewalk. They looked in her direction, and then the good ol' sarge started walking her way.
Mathilda was very happy she wore her heeled boots. That way she could glare down at the little brats. Grinning, she flipped her blade in the air, and caught it by its blade.
"Hm. I wonder what would make a better cupcake. Your ingredients, or you?"
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.
'Don't stab the brats, don't stab the brats.' Mathilda chanted.
She had thought that she had finally found an in, but nope. Gott, she hated children.
You're able to get an in with these kids, and they're willing to talk to you. At first it seems to be going well but, slowly, you realize that they're bullshitting you. The things they tell you seem less and less true, and more outlandish. Eventually, they can't hold their pokerface any longer and burst into laughter.
Cop Face seemed to be working. At least it was working half the time. Seeing the kids nervous was rewarding, as horrible as it was. Then again, maybe they were just getting nervous with all the time that was passing and all of the people descending upon them. He'd probably never know.
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.
Mathilda was getting tired of these children's games. She didn't have the time or patience to deal with brats who thought they were all that and whatnot. The urge to harm was getting stronger with each passing moment so she walked away, attempting to calm down. So far she had tried to talk to them twice and both times had ended badly. It took every ounce of will power to not reach for her blade when she figured out that they were messing with her the second time.
Huffing, she strolled through the town, attempting to center and calm herself. She had moved her dagger from its holster to her boot, and that had been for the best. A blade within reach and teenagers was not a good mix. Sighing, she looped her thumbs in her belt loops and kept walking.
If she were to be honest, she didn't want to be in town. She would prefer to be in the camp, or perhaps searching the swamp. Recon wasn't her favorite thing in the world. It was idle work, and made her fidget. She thought back to her fight with Frederick the Bear and smiled. Now that had been fun. No killing or major injuries had occurred, but it was fun none the less.
Lost in thought, she was taken off guard when a body barreled into her. Growling, she pinned the person against the alleyway she had been walking by, dagger in her hand and against the persons throat. In the brief seconds she had been caught off guard, she had caught sight of familiar clothing and was not going to chance one of the Wiccans messing with her.
"You have thirty seconds to speak before I get angry."
The - they looked like a boy but Mathilda wasn't sure- person stared at Mathilda with wide eyes, full of fear. The blonde kept up her glare, and didn't loosen her hold with the dagger.
"-map!"
"What?"
"I have a piece of a map! I can help you!"
-
Mathilda glared at a reflection this time. She had reluctantly followed a renegade Wiccan to the bathroom of a nearby park, and was no watching them wipe who knows what off their face. She can tell they are scared, but whether its of her or something else, she didn't know - nor did she care. Fear was very useful sometimes.
"You said you had a map piece. I assume by coming to me, it means you plan to give it up willingly." The dagger was still in her hand, resting at her side.
"I do." They turned toward her and gently took out a piece of wrinkled paper. "I'm done with them. I don't like what they have become. If you can maybe stop the ringleader, maybe they will be normal again."
At this point, Mathilda could care less about the brats. She took the piece with a bit of force, glancing at it quickly before putting it in her pocket.
"Danke." She walked out of the restroom, only turning to tell the kid they had missed a bit of eyeliner. (517)
