WHEN: 1943 FEB 21, evening
WHO: Drystan, Damir, Gonzo, Cassandre, One Who is Free, and Hector... and one angry doggo
WHERE: The ruins in the Wilds
A dense fog blanketed the grass of the ritual site, moving in thick swirls as people and critters moved through it. The grass beneath was unnaturally moist in this area, the soil beneath it swampy. Something had caused some recent rains to wet the forest foliage, filling the place with the scent of wet earth and dripping trees. The site was untouched except for some odd indents in the ground and the passive buzzing electrified air, like a thunderstorm had just rolled through and dispersed.
[16:36] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) trudged up towards the ruins, squishing his boots in the soft earth as he went, eyes peeled (though not literally this time) for his knapsack he had left out here the night of the ritual. He climbed up over a small hill and walked up into the main ritual site itself, stopping to draw his breath, drag a hand to get the hair that was sticking to his face out of the way, and then put his hands on his hips to look around. He knew he put it by one of the archways, but that evening had been so eventful, he couldnt recall which one in particular.
Echoing squelches of weight depressing muddy soil sounded off after Drystan's own footsteps, a few seconds' delay after his own. The Hound lingered in the perimeter for now, avoiding the faint light of the embers in the firepit that never seemed to completely die. Its presence caused a distortion, echoes of other times in this same place, the ritual itself coming back like overlapping bits of reality - Dinah's voice, the pain of Drystan's blinding, the scent of blood. It paused in the space of broken wall and observed the eldest sibling, smelling the scent of stolen time.
[16:45] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) chewed on his bottom lip and sighed audibly, crouching down to pick up a few bits of herbs that he recognized, and idly tossing them to the side after feeling them for a moment, trying to recall everyones positioning when the first arrived. He stood up and turned on himself and took a few steps towards where he thought it might be, near where his father had wound up. HIs boots left crunched and folded grass and mud sockets where he stepped, and he was pretty focused on the bag, more so his gun - if it was in a puddle so help him Nyarlathotep,,,
[16:50] The Hound of Tindalos approached with slow, stalking strides, the heat of hungry breath exuding from its nostrils and maw as it got closer. There was no warning, no growl of intimidation as it neared Drystan, only the flickering shadow it cast on the wall as it crossed in the way of the fire pit. The pit itself seemed, in that moment, both roaring and alive and in its mostly-put-out state - and every state in between, making the Hound's shadow warp and distort with each cyclic transition of the fire's intensity.
[16:55] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) leaned down and then saw no bag, no puddle even! "Well fuck." He was about to bounce on the balls of his feet and get back up to just start checking all the pillars, when he caught a shadow on the wall next to him, spinning around, but...nothing was there. His eyes raced around the space, and then he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath and opened them again slowly. He watched the space in front of him carefully, because he had that feeling, of being watched.
[17:01] Damir Novak (cosmological) really should not be out and about alone in the woods in such dangerous times. But alas, here he is, stumbling into the clearing, attracted by the sounds of...some kind of a scuffle? It's clear that he didn't come here for a fight. In one hand he holds a butterfly net, and in the other, a blazer. He lingers beside the columns, eyes wide, trying to understand /exactly/ what he's seeing. His fingers clasp around the amulet around his neck.
Unfortunately, he has not been particularly stealthy, and a stick or two has certainly managed to crack under his foot by now. Ah, the perils of being an ecology student doing field research.
[17:04] The Hound of Tindalos twisted itself, lanky body curling as it paced to the side, crushing grass and making divets in the mud. Damir likely saw these things coming into being without a full corporeal body attached bto it just as clearly as he saw the shadow it cast on the wall. It paused as he stumbled into the clearing, and at this point it let out a low and rumbling growl that was audible to both men though its head was turned to face Damir - a warning to the one who wasn't yet marked as a target.
[17:11] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) felt his blood run cold when the young man popped into the clearing, "WHOA...You gave me a fri--" and then he saw the footprints and the words died on his tongue. The grass crushing, the direction of the feet... and those prints specifically.... and then he heard it, the growl that chattered in a reverb onto itself as it phased in and out of time of the present. It was a Tindalos! His eyes grew wide and he hissed at the man, "Quickly! Get near the light! Do it!" He frantically waved him towards the source of the light throwing shadows of the thing tall and wirelike on the walls around them. He couldn't fucking see them! His mind raced, ...he needed to find that bag.
[17:17] Damir Novak (cosmological) takes things in incrementally. First he notices the shadow. Then, the man. "Oh. Hello. Was that you who...?" Then he double-takes to the shadow again, notices the footsteps. "Hmm...that is..not quite right..." he murmurs under his breath, face pulling into a wince. He's starting to get a bit of a headache, and a rather intense one at that, which only seems to get worse when his attention is turned toward the shadows. So when Drystan shouts out to him, he's moving before he really realizes it, stumbling over into the direction that Drystan has indicated. "What is...shadows about?" He asks the other man, dizzily.
[17:23] Hound of Tindalos || It was unfortunate that Damir interacted with and generally gave off the impression of being cordial with Drystan. The Hound took issue with this and crouched low on its front paws, its spiny back curved. Ground and grass mulched beneath its front claws as it prepared itself to lunge at the pair, a wild snarl echoing through the clearing in warning before it bounded towards the two, its mouth open to snap at the nearest limb.
[17:29] Gonzo Giustizieri had been rummaging around in the woods, trying to find a specific tuber for...fuck, who knows how long. She's about to give up for the night, tragically tuberless, but some crazy noises catch her ear and she scrambles up the hill to find...okay, weird, she hasn't actually seen these ruins before. And...the source of the noises is...well, she can't tell what the source is, or where they're coming from. The closer she gets, the bigger the headache, which tells her /something/. Then, hey, hey-- "Novak! This is some bug, yes? Too small for the eyes, but big on the ears?" Although, okay, the snarl...she squints at the place it comes from, and there's a weird shadow. Glancing up...reveals nothing above them, so... "You and your friend, you need help catching?" She indicates Damir's net, smacks a fist into her open palm like a catcher's mitt, and starts circling toward the two men.
[17:30] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) clenches his teeth and looks at the footprints and where they stopped and the spaced between him and the young man, "Hurry! Stay towards the light, they don't like the light.." Which explained little, but now wasn't time for a lesson on time guard dogs. He judged the space and took a jolted run towards the man and managed to get himself caught between the jaws of the beast. It grabbed onto his left forearm and sunk its teeth in, and barreled into him with the hit, sending Drystans feet slipping in mud as he flailed and tried to step back and wrench his arm away by twisting it. So, ...for both men, they were under attack by nothing they could see, but they could feel it! "Auughhh shit..gettt OFFA mmeee..!!"
[17:36] Cassandre Lavigne is heading back into town, when she hears a voice. Curious, she moves to the nearby ruins, only to see a familiar figure ahead of her, now using a familiar name to call out. She follows and steps into the ruins just in time to hear the sound of something rushing through the grass. She sees no shadows, only the shifting grasses and mulched ground of movement and where something had been. Uncertainty is solidified into a course of action as she hears the stranger's cry. Her hands go out to run over the tall grasses, reaching out her awareness through them for something deeper, roots in the ground. "Arbres, donnez-nous..." Her words are whispered as she avoids moving closer to the light and by extension, the screaming.
[17:40] Damir Novak (cosmological) manages to stumble over toward the campfire or whatever it is, blessedly un-maimed despite the fact that certain spots in his vision seem to be wavering in and out with the pain of the sudden "migraine" he's just taken on. It's good he wore his hiking boots for this little excursion! He cranes his head around to get an eye on Drystan and -- just then, the sound of a snarl raises the hair on the back of his neck and his arms. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no," he begins to mumble, watching as something unseen suddenly takes hold of his new acquaintance's arm. Whatever it is, is a LOT closer than Damir is comfortable with. On the upside, though, that means it's also in range of his mighty....butterfly net. He thrusts the end of the net's pole toward the /nothingness/ that seems to be biting the shit out of this man next to him. Voices in the background catch his attention and he just shouts: "Either get in light or go away! Fast!"
[17:45] Hound of Tindalos bit deep, wrenching its face around as it tumbled with Drystan into the grass. The eldest Windgrace felt the pull of the Hound as it attempted to suck the stolen time from the man's body -- only for Damir to jab the end of his net into its ribcage. It released its grip on Drystan, turning instead to snap at the offending net in an effort to grab it by the handle and wrench it away from Damir's hands. The indents the creature made in the grass and the scrapes and scuffs it put in the mud were visible to all but Cassandre... (( and anyone with Empathy Rank 2 )) ALSO felt the hunger and indignant rage roiling in the beast, aimed specifically at Drystan.
[17:54] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) is shaking and twisting and pulling all while his other hand grabs at the great beast he knew was there but couldn't see without Dinah's eyes; fortunately or unfortunately he had dealt with them before. His arm was shredded by the time it let go to focus on the poking it had received. He tried to roll away to the side, holding his arm to his chest, the wound beginning to heal almost instantly compared to prior to the ritual, but he also felt a drain, on his very spirit itself, he could feel the rage it had for him in his core, He looked around wildly as new faces appeared and slipped in the mud trying to stand back up, "Ti....ti.. it's , huhhhhhh, Tindalos!" This wasnt likely to be helpful either, but he was busy falling over himself and trying to get his footing back
[18:02] Gonzo Giustizieri can take a hint-- two people hollering to stay in the light means she darts toward the campfire and sticks to the edges of its glow. For a second, at least, and then the rugged guy is screaming, bitemarks are showing up in his arm, and Damir's net is being tugged by an unseen force. So, that's good. She reaches into a pocket to snag...what looks like a baseball made of metal, starts tossing it up and down in one hand. She whistles, gestures rudely at the spot where the snarling's coming from with her index and pinky fingers. "Hey, hey, hey! Tindalino! Away from the boys!" Focus through the headache, use your ears to aim...There's a windup and a pitch made in close quarters, given a little extra spin with matter control, and if she's lucky, it'll hit the hound and not...you know, a person.
[18:08] Cassandre Lavigne feeling the rage, and hearing multiple calls to get into the light, it seems worth heeding the advice while whatever monstrosity, invisible to her eyes, is focused on someone else. Her call to the roots, is heeded, but it takes time for what is buried deeply to pull themselves free. As they continue to worm their way up, she moves quickly hoping to make it into the light and behind the one wielding the baseball bat, which while not as impressive as fighting off eldritch monstrosities with nothing but a butterfly net, does inspire more confidence in the delicate piece of driftwood that happens to be human shaped at the moment.
[18:15] Damir Novak (cosmological) is not a particularly strong man. Nor does he have much experience dealing with unseen adversaries with not only physical manifestations in the world, but also...some rather troubling psychic ones? The headache, sure; but also, some passive sense of impending doom.
But that doesn't really help much in this situation, all things considered!
He drops the net as soon as Drystan is freed and skids over to the man's side. "Are you --" Spots the self-healing wounds. Huh. Okay. He sets his jaw, and starts digging around in his pockets, trying to find something useful for this situation. Anything. He's just coming up with a bag of herbs and some loose pocket salt. "What-what does Tindalos do? Is it after you?"
[18:20] The Hound of Tindalos was getting far too close to the light for its own comfort. It released Damir's pole with only a few chomp-marks along its length and backed up a bit out of the circle of the fire that seemed, at once, lit and unlit - embers and roaring. To those in the clearing the place flickered the longer they remained in its vicinity - images of the grass much shorter, the building much more whole becoming briefly visible before disappearing as if the sights were a trick of the light. The beast circled, moving around the group in a circle until it was closest to where Drystan's limbs stretched farthest out towards the shadows of the area. (( not attackin this round ))
[18:29] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) rocked and seethed at the pain in his arm, but it was starting to not pinch as much, and the blood he'd stopped on his own. He looked up at the man and tried to explain more fully. "They are like ...dogs...but they guard time. they guard the gate. And yes, yes it's pissed at me alright!" No use in lying. He leaned and pushed himself up sticking his legs out like one is doing a push up to get up off the ground. "It might be a bit cross that I messed with what it guards..." He spoke while he got up trying to look for footprints or grass or anything to tell him where this thing was.
[18:37] Gonzo Giustizieri figures the lack of snarling means the ball didn't make contact with the invisible thing...but hey, it didn't hit Damir or Drystan either, so that's a plus. Anyway, the net got dropped, and this fucking headache is getting worse. She taps the side of her head a few times, points at Drystan and Damir. "This aura, this flickering, this-- it is from time?" She tries to get her vision to cooperate, but the constant in-and-out of different iterations of the landscape are screwing with her sense of space. "Why would you piss off a thing like that! What the hell?" She glances back at Cassandre, points at her with a thumb. "You know anything about this, gorgeous?" The metal ball, meanwhile, continues to lie in the grass somewhere near Damir, slowly spinning.
[18:38] The Hound of Tindalos did not bite at Drystan's foot right away because it was busy snooting at a metal ball in the grass, which had... bonked off of its butt-end as it was slinking around.
[18:41] Cassandre Lavigne, with the hound no longer locked in struggle, and outside of the ring of light, her ability to pinpoint it is hampered. It doesn't help that her vision of the place is shifting unpredictably either. Still, with roots now breaking through the earth, she directs them towards what she hopes is the beast shifting the grass, and not the breeze, or some stray squirrel wandering through at an inopportune time, to ensnare it. Her words are aimed for Drystan. "Can you work whatever you need to to handle this with your injury? I can close your wound if you-" She looks up at Gonzo and shakes her head. "No. Well. Tindalos? I've heard the name and I believe you're right, it's tied to time. Nothing I'm familiar with, only that it is old and alien from us, but the fire... If it can contort time around us, that fire may not remain to be the protective presence we need."
[18:48] Damir Novak (cosmological) stares at Drystan quizically. From the expression, one might think that he's having difficulty processing everything the man's just said. But then he's working his jaw again, then looking around, squinting at the flickering structure around them, and at the grass, and the spinning ball near a horrible shadow. When he looks back to Drystan it's with a scowl. "You messed with /time/? That is...so...so -- ugh!" As Gonzo and Cassandre speak, the scowl is levelled at each of them, too. With that, he grabs his blazer out of the mud and pushes himself back up to his feet, intending to get closer to the fire. "Do we need to take you away from here? Or will it follow?"
[18:51] The Hound of Tindalos made the unmistakable sound of teeth clicking against something round and metallic. It mouthed the metal ball a few times before picking it up and thrashing its head, letting go at precisely the right point to heave the ball in the direction of Damir and Drystan - though with the gyroscopic device that sat in the center of that metal ball, it was anyone's guess where it actually ended up sailing. ((Dice say Gonzo!))
[18:59] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) nods at the two that have joined the fray, "Yes, It's the time warp." He waits a moment, then turns to the man at his side, offering him a hand up and turns to speak again, "I'll be fine, ...wound wise...and it has to be dispatched, It doesn't belong to our time." He was up on his feet again and now rushing around to opposite side looking for his bag. If he could only get a feel for it, but everythig was so hectic, so many heartbeats, so much racing blood - but the beast felt different than anything else, it beat with an arrhythmia and just feeling the rage coming off it might be the way to pinpoint it. If he could sense it and feel it withhis mind, he'd have a shot. He'd also have a handy fucking shot if he could find his gun!
[19:10] Gonzo Giustizieri is nodding her head, tapping her foot, tapping her head with a finger, looking from the fire to the walls of the ruins..."Yes, yes, yes, but then the ah, the stone, the foundations, the trees, all are subject to time, they can fade just as anything else, so perhaps it is..." She starts patting her pockets, but comes up empty. "Do we have another source of light?" She twists around, scowls right back at Damir, then directs it at Drystan as well. "Oh, the time warp! Next time, maybe you do not stick your nose-- ah!" She'd been gesturing to summon the ball back to her hand, only to watch it start levitating, like something was chewing on it...and then the ball soars toward her /much faster/ than she'd been anticipating. Her hand's already up to catch the thing, and she's not fast enough to whip it out of the way, so it makes contact with a loud 'smack'. She drops to her knees, cradling the ball to her chest to absorb some of the momentum. It's not the initial impact that's bad, though-- it's the rotation. The friction burns, even through the wrappings on her hand, and she swears loudly, out of commission for the moment.
[19:15] Cassandre Lavigne shakes her head. "I could hold it still for you if I could find it, I cannot see it in the darkness, though I do not think I could dispatch it." Then she sees Gonzo drop and she follows the other down, hands splayed to try wrapping around her. "What is that thing? Are you okay, can you breathe?" She leaves the roots to search for their target, trying to wrap around anything living in that darkness.
[19:20] Damir Novak (cosmological) stares at Drystan for a moment before accepting the hand up with a nod. For such a dainty little man, he has surprising grip strength. He watches Drystan dart away to search for something. A hand comes up to rub his forehead. Gonzo's words grab his attention and then -- she's brained by a metal ball. "...This is stupid," he mutters, and crouches to pick his butterfly net back up. "We are all going to die at this rate. Look." He points in the direction of where he can see the shadow of the beast. Or, where he last saw them, if they're no longer visible. "I cannot see the /thing/, but the shadows...they are there. How do we dispatch?"
[19:22] The Hound of Tindalos was in a heightened state of agitation. It certainly felt different from the others, singularly enraged by Drystan's state of being and the stolen time bound to his body. As they spoke of the fire's unreliable nature the thing flickered and dimmed, the overlap of the time when it was lit with more robust flames fading and beginning to darken the clearing. It was about that time that the vines Cassandre controlled found their mark, coiling around the Hound's spindly limbs and rooting it to the spot, for the time being. It let out a snarl and began biting and tearing at the plantlife to free itself, giving the crew precious time to formulate a plan of sorts.
[19:29] One Who Is Free seemed to literally unfurl from out of the night sky, stars and void taking on a shape around a glowing, pulsing red heart, the only splash of colour visible on its form. Its halo burned like the corona of an eclipse around its featureless head, its proportions just a little too thin and long to be said to belong to a man.
It FELT it, the things that weren't meant to be there, that were of a like to itself. The pull was distinct and undeniable, and the THING which wove itself from the very fabric of the night sky beat its wings over the ruins, thin pricks of light seeming to pierce through the world around it.
And then it was THERE, in its presence, a featureless form staring down eyelessly at a twisted, elongated thing, ECHOING with times not of this time.
It didn't seem to do anything, not yet. It didn't really seem to understand what was happening right now, anyways. And Drystan, the Windgrace, the brother of the one who had brought the One Who Is Free to this existence - he had yet to call out, had yet to bring the eldritch freedom's attention to the matter.
That didn't really matter, in the end. The One Who Is Free wanted to be something closer to its firstborn existence: it wanted to provide its testimony to itself.
It had not had that chance in a long time.
It was without words, or at least no words that any mortal could understand, save perhaps Drystan - if he was at all even somewhat as studied as Dinah.
Instead it was in pinpricks of light breaking through reality like through the punctures of a tack through paper.
The pinpricks of light hung in the air around Free, a twin feeling of dread and relief rippling out from the non-being, the implication of a crippling freedom.
[19:39] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) finally see's his bag and snatches it up, thankfully not in a puddle. He turns back around to see the ball get hoisted and thrown terribly hard back to it's owner while he dug in the pouch tossing clothes out of it as he felt for the handle of the revolver. But then the one controlling plants manages to hook the bastard in place. He had no time to waste on the gun. "Get away from the arch!" The words bellowed out of him and he held up his right hand looking and focusing on the archway and the old stone pillars on either side of where they plants grew up invisible legs. He focused his min and let the bottom drop out of his breath, using all his mental strength and ability to attempt to pull the stones down on top of the Tindalos and at least slow it down. Just as he started, Free made itself known to them, but his full concentration was on helping slow it down
[19:45] Gonzo Giustizieri realizes way too late that maybe letting go of the ball would've been a better idea than clinging to it, but hey, hindsight's 20/20. It'd finally stopped spinning, and she drops it into her left hand, shaking the right one vigorously, trying to cool down the smoking fabric. "Huh? Is just a ball, do you have water? Water? Ice? Too hot!" Then some /new/ thing drops out of the sky, and there's more muffled swearing. "Another shadow!" Okay, okay, don't panic...then a murmured handful of words in Latin, and the ball starts to emit light. It's promptly chucked in the direction of the glowing heart in the air. "Is there no end to these things?"
[19:54] Cassandre Lavigne, the empath, feels both the fingers of dread reach into her mind, paired with the relief and then echoed. For a moment, she's all but blind to anything else but the feelings as she covers her face, in an attempt to focus and center herself. The roots are left to their last orders, with nothing further from the greensinger to urge them to further actions. "I- I... Yes. Water. My bag." While she fights the overwhelming feelings in herself, pushing them down. "What is..." It's difficult to formulate a plan with the alien emotions distracting her from what she sees as a new threat, but an idea starts to wriggle free. "If I can..."
[19:57] Damir Novak (cosmological) 's peevish demeanor cracks and withers away the moment the fire starts to flicker out. Or was it when That Thing came down from the sky? An angel? When Damir's eyes land on it, he's filled with an indescribable feeling of awe and dread and fear. Combine that with the horribleness of this whole ordeal....he can't take it. He ducks his head, covers his eyes with one hand, and begins to murmur a sing-song Hebrew under his breath. It's the Shema prayer: a fundamental declaration of faith in Hashem -- as well as beseeching Him to protect the group, to look favorably upon them, to keep them safe. Is it possible that this iteration of the stone is magically endowed in some way? Or perhaps, the falling rock disturbs the delicate structure of time, which traps the creature even better than just normal crumbling stonework? He's not sure -- just desperate, and terrified.
[20:00] Hound of Tindalos || The stone structure around them shuddered under the weight of Drystan's mental magic. Decrepit as the ruins are the stones come tumbling down, crashing into the Hound's body and pinning it down in the tangle of vines Cassandre has wrapped around it. The beast whines as it thrashes, attempting to wriggle itself free. It should have been broken bits and rubble that fell on the beast, easy enough to move - but through some answered prayer the bits of stone that collapsed are older versions of themselves, sturdier and without the wear of the years that brought their degradation. The Hound is pinned as if under weight of intact archway and it lets out an unearthly shriek... like a call for assistance.
[20:05] One Who Is Free || Suddenly there was a ball flying at it. Free tilted its head, curiously, as it caught it in its hands, staring down at it, then back at the mortal thing which had thrown it. Its little inquiries into the world it had been brought to had led it to understand that a great many humans very much enjoyed playing with spherical round things, and wasn't this a spherical round thing? They liked to kick them, or throw them, or roll them. The mortal had thrown this at Free, so did that mean the mortal was playing 'ball'...?
Free had, at this point, entirely stopped considering the presence of the visiting hound. It was much more interested in the reason that the human had thrown this ball to it. It was a very interesting choice of action. It raises its hand with the ball and... Throws it back at Gonzo. Gently, like people playing catch with each other. After that, it just... Stares at Gonzo. Featurelessly.
Free's feelings, to Cassandre, if she tried to focus on them... Would feel strange. Inhuman, utterly, in a way that was difficult to put to words and dissimilar even from the most detached of worldly existences. Free did not BELONG here. Its feelings, though sometimes echoing curiosity, or bemusement, were rather... A single feeling. An all-encompassing feeling. A single, omnipresent feeling that splits a thousand times and weaves together and splits again and simultaneously and eternally.
It is unbridled chaos, and UTTER LIBERTY.
There was Damir's prayer, however; a prayer that, although not exactly directed to Free, seems to indicate to it that someone here was feeling TRAPPED. Of course, the sudden trapping of the hound also made it feel its existence of being TRAPPED. This was anti-thesis to Free. Free, though, was complete - the pinion through its pulsing heart testified to this fact. It could ignore both the prayer, and the call of the hound, if it wished. It could leave others trapped.
Just for today, it did not particularly want to.
The pinpricks of light, like stars seen through the fabric of reality, blindingly white, suddenly seem to... Sharpen. They array themselves like swords between the hound and the group, in an attempt to produce an impassable barrier between each. A couple direct themselves to slice through the stone that presses down into the hound. But the One Who Is Free hovers above, its starlight wings beating, filled with monochrome nebulas. ((Faith 3, 1d10+6 = 15))
[20:13] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) watched as the stone dropped and fell, followed by ....swords?? His wide eyes finally take in the creature Dinah described to him. The one she let in, the one who was "Free?" He sputtered out as the stone is being sliced away at to free the Tindlos. "Oh..no..no.."He began to mutter words from a time long ago, a hermetic calling out for recognition of intention, ....basically a "HEY FREE PLEASE PLAY NICE?" Holding one hand out. He was not as mastered as Dinah, but closer than anyone else he knew of at the present time. He steps back over, seeing the rocks rumbling on their own, sure this thing would break out any second. As he made his way over he checked the gun and and tried to figure out a good place to try and shoot.
[20:21] Gonzo Giustizieri's left hand snaps up to catch the ball on reflex, apparently having learned nothing from the last time. However...this time, no burns. Just a totally normal catch. So this...other shadow, whatever the hell it is, isn't bad. Maybe. She looks from the angel to the rocks then back to Drystan, and tilts her head. "Here is what I am thinking. We let this time...beast...eat this clown. Balance is settled, Tind' is happy, dog goes home, justice, it is done. Yes?" She notices Cassandre's usual composure is...lacking, and elbows her gently. "Hey. Ms. Lavigne. Water, your bag. I am not about to rifle through a woman's bag without her supervision, O.K.?" Then Damir gets a look as well, and she nudges him with the toe of her boot. "Are we alright?"
[20:33] Cassandre Lavigne suddenly smiles wide, eyes full of pure delight and a hungry obsession as her mind touches the unbridled chaos. Then there's an elbow and a mundane calm, the concern of going through a stranger's bag turning her attention back to Gonzo. Free's chaos is alien and this mythoi is shaped after humanity, so the smile breaks as quickly as it crosses her face. She releases all hold on the plants, unable to keep them under control and what she needs to shield herself. Serenity. She sucks in a breath and nods to Gonzo. "I suppose that would be improper, wouldn't it?" The corruption of her soul leaves unseen wounds, which practiced serenity can soothe. The woman has many times been a font of serenity for others, and this rejuvenation is meant for herself, though it spills from her still, radiating out.
[20:35] Damir Novak (cosmological) || It isn't until the sounds of falling rubble is over that Damir dares to quiet down and uncover his eyes. He stares at them for several seconds, before moving on to examine the....beams of light? Blades? He's not entirely sure, but he is seeing that they look to be a barrier between the group and the creature. Which might keep them safe...or, it might prevent them from 'dispatching' the thing. He tries to avoid looking at Free. When Gonzo nudges Damir, he frowns at her, and answers her question with a curt: "No. We do not know it will go away if it eats the clown." He pauses, and glances over to Drystan. "Do we?" He then proceeds along to the fire (or the smoldering embers, as they may be by this point), and thrusts the wooden end of his butterfly net into it. He eyeballs Cassandre, watching her expression shift and change. "...What was your idea? Before?" Finally, he looks toward Free, wondering if he would be able to get past to join in the Stabbing. He doesn't really want to test his luck though, so maybe just having a torch will suffice
The blades of crystallized starlight shatter the hounds stony prison as they root into the ground betwixt the hunter and it's quarry into a fence built of shimmering light and impossible angles. Rearing back as it is freed the hound lets out a hooting howl that seems ot com from all directions at once. Snapping at the air it sniffs and paces the fence watching Drystan with a hungry slavering maw. Reflected and refracted in the starlight blades myriad images of the hound pace and peer out of sync as if each reflections was another hound peering out from beyond this realm in pursuit of the timelost prey.
[20:52] One Who Is Free || The eldritch THING that was "Free" didn't particularly seem concerned. One must suppose it must NOT feel the same danger from the hound, being of similar natures; the wave of some not-quite-human communication that washes over Drystan in response is perhaps somewhat translateable as either 'NOT PLAYING'/'AM PLAYING NICE'. Either way, the message doesn't QUITE seem to get across to Free. Free was... Well, free. It wasn't really a reasonable free, either, as Cassandre would probably be able to attest. No, it was a very... Different kind of free. It was the kind of free if you divorced it from any other relevant idea. It was a twisted, mutilated abstraction. It was an aberration of freedom, no less aberrant than the freedom of its conception, and if Free was once 'freedom limited', it was now 'freedom without bounds'.
So it just hovers there. The fence of shimmering starlight and impossible angles seems mostly to keep the hounds from attacking the group of mortals which had asked for help, but it's... Probably still going to slice to ribbons anything - or really more importantly, anyONE who wanted to try to catch it.
Still, a projectile might reach through, or perhaps Aether - though perhaps this simply affords the group a chance to attempt to run away from the thing from the beyond.
Notably, Free doesn't seem to be making any effort to prevent any of the group from getting weapons, or even taking aim and attacking the hounds, as long as they aren't trying to bind them down somehow. This seems to be within the bounds of what Free's 'freedom' is allowing... For now.
[21:03] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) is assaulted with Eldritch-tongue by Free and his brain understood, but he couldnt speak the words like Astreah/Dinah could. He winces and lowers his head as the boom of Free's thoughts flow through and over him. The mirrored reflections of the hound made his chest bind up and his mouth go dry. He lifted and leveled the gun, trying to aim it through the blades, to hit the actual hound making the reflections. He doesn't want the shot to go wild, or to hit Free either, Dinah would be PISSED. He let the tip of his tongue stick out a bit as he aimed and tried to feel the bullet in the chamber so that he could guide his aim with his mind, then he looked to the side. "You should all run, let me deal with these repercussions, none of you want or need to deal with this, just. go. It shouldn't follow any of you, it wants me." It was up to them if he shot, now, or after they ran, if they decided to run at least. "I fire now ir wait till you flee...Or you can stay but I'm going to try and take this thing out of its misery."
[21:07] Hector: was just out for a nightly fly. He liked to fly around and feel the wind in his hair. He was barefoot and barely dressed. Sometimes he would dive into water and come up to fly out throwing water in every direction. He flew over the ritual space. He stopped there sometimes to brew potions and commune with the Mother. He slowed and started to circle like a giant crow before sort of half hovering and half setting a single bare foot on the tallest part of the old ruin. He's not going down, fuck that. He's just trying to see what the Hell all the commotion was. He squints and tilts his head. He actually rubs at his eyes, shakes his head, looks down again and then just sort of...stares. Was he dreaming? Because it kind of looks like an Abomination was attacking some people and there was essentially a Celestial Being sort of intervening but also not? Something in his pants twitches and he looks down and just shakes his head like 'no, no you shut up, this is not the time for that...I don't think.'
"Kinda wanna pet it...he looks like a good boy." Mumbles to himself. Wait was that Drystan's voice telling everyone to flee? He should probably hang out. If Drystan ended up drawn and quartered Dinah would be angry. He'd collect the pieces and take them back to the Estate.
[21:11] Gonzo Giustizieri raises an eyebrow and shoots a grin to Cassandre. "I am hating to be improper. This is what they are all saying of me." The words are coupled with a wink, and then she whirls around as the dog howls strangely. It's weird being able to...see the thing reflected in the swords, but there's a common thread between all of them... "Novak, you see this? I think it wants him. Watch the eyes. Always to the clown. Not me, not you, not her." Then Drystan pipes up, and she gestures to him. "Ah, see? He agrees. Look, look, this dog, I think if it eats you, that is justice for messing with time." She shrugs. "If you escape from this, eh, it will bite you again until you learn. Simple." She scratches her head, then...turns and starts to head out, away from the dog. She whistles, gestures for Cassandre and Damir to follow her, but doesn't turn to see if they...actually do.
[21:17] Cassandre Lavigne looks to Damir with a more detached expression now and nods, though her eyes return to the reflections as she radiates peace. "What I was plannign will not work now, our Guest from Elsewhere..." She nods to Free. "May take offense to the action. I could be wrong but..." She looks to Drystan now. "You can speak with it, reason with it and you mentioned the hound is a guard? By its nature that beast is bound, trapped, can you convince it the only freedom that creature of Tindalos could ever know is death? Either way, with that Guest here, my attempts to subdue the hound again will be useless to you. I hope you survive, but if I leave now, then hopefully I can return quickly with both aide and weaponry." Her bag is held tight and she turns to follow Gonzo.
[21:20] Damir Novak (cosmological) wrenches the butterfly net out of the fire, looking down to observe it and confirm that it is, in fact, now a /flaming/ butterfly net. He cants his head over to Drystan when the man speaks up, instructing him and the others to flee.
...And honestly, it's not a bad idea. The creature is trapped now. Before, he'd been too afraid to run out of the light, because he had no idea what was going on. Now, he knows that thing is just after Drystan...who appears to be practically unkillable, if how quickly he was healing earlier is anything to judge by. As he deliberates, Gonzo gets his attention. She, too, has a point. So he nods. And makes to back away.
That's when he spots Hector. Or rather, the sound of Hector mumbling draws his ear, which then draws his gaze.
After a moment of thought, Damir takes off the protection amulet around his neck and affixes it to the flaming butterfly net/torch. He's not sure if it'll work, but he'd done the blessing on the thing himself and it had protected him in the past. Maybe Hashem will take mercy on the poor soul who wields this thing by keeping their aim true.
"Hey! You!" He shouts to Hector, gesturing emphatically with the tool in his hand. "It is afraid of light! Take this!" He looks like he's fixing to throw it like a spear if Hector doesn't come down and take it from him.
As Drystan takes aim it is increasingly difficult to make out the shadow of the true beast opposed to the reflections across those myriad facets. It lets out a vicious snarl and a howl not of this realm as Hector arrives and alights on ruines now restored to their new glory under his feet and falling nearly to dust meters away. Twisting almost too quickly for the eye to see the reflected creature leaps at the barrier seeming to be facing directly into each of those impossible angles and time itself almost slows as it makes contact and starts to pass through the wall as if to emerge whole once more form each facet a multitude birthed by the intersection of the hounds strange existence and the Eldritch power Free unleashed creating this barricade.
[21:42] One Who Is Free || Free wasn't going to stay too long. It had, after all, only been passing by. It had offered choices to those present and now they would abide by them. But as the beast attempts to cross the starlight barrier, the blades suddenly take on life again - altogether seeming to merge into a singular blade attempting to pierce at the hound's true body from every direction, every bit as non-euclidean as the hound or of Free itself, before the singular starlit blade vanished. ((Faith R3, 1d10+6 = 12))
And then Free itself was away, simply allowing both hound and Drystan to face the consequences of their freedoms.
[21:42] Hector: let's out a 'tch' when the young man with the flaming...is that a butterfly net?? looks up at him. Was he, blessing that thing? "Ah...mmm..." He flies down, touching down his toes to the grass. Almost immediately the grass and little flowers curl around his toesies and up his ankles. He closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds to smile. It always feels so good to touch nature. He does it so rarely because it reacts to him much the way that dead things do. It's ridiculous what happens to Hector when his bare flesh touches things. If it's dead it might come back to life, if it's a flower it might brighten and curl around him. He's a mortal avatar of both life and death. Such an obvious witch, especially when he dons his witchy hats. Reaching out to receive the butterfly net he nods. "Gotcha...I'll hang around and gather up the Big Guy's parts when he's done doing his thing. Don't worry. I'll fly what's left out of here and take him back to his family." He winked to the retreating individuals. Surely he meant...Drystan and not the dog. Also the ruins is morphing from old to new and back again? "Oh bugger...not Time. Never Time." Time Magic was the whole reason he ended up in Callisto in the first place!
[21:50] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) barely had time to see Hector Land - wait land? He has wings?! Before Everyone was just agreeing with him and getting the hell out while they could. He could mind the banter, he expected no one to understand these things, and he wasnt about to try and fully explain either. He just chuffed and shook his head as the man goes to spear the net at Hector behind him. It was then that the hound broke, and ran to break through the line of swords, pulling its reflections in toward itself and then ...."..oh fuck.." if it made it across there would be a swarm of them and his time would be over. He let out his breath again and pulled the revolver up and eased one shoulder back. While he exhaled he took aim at the hounds head squarely. It was at this moment that Free pulled the swords in on the Tindalos itself. He pulled the trigger and fired at his head, using his mind to help guide the bullet to its intended target - If Free damaged it or took it down, he wasnt about to take the chance that it would rip up Hector and himself. ((Roll d10+6 = 10))
[21:51] Damir Novak (cosmological) nods meaningfully at Hector, as he hands off the torch (heh). "Thank you," he replies, examining the man's face. Does he recognize this guy from around town...? Maybe. He's not totally sure. Not very good with faces, sadly. He frowns, and adds, while pointing at the amulet: "Try to bring it back, if you can. But if you can not....well, it went to a good cause. I hope."
He doesn't need anymore coaxing after the sound of that /howl/ and the image of Free trying to obliterate the creature with those crazy spears. He'd wish Drystan good luck but...the dude is focusing, and hopefully, at this point, it's implied. He sprints away -- outta here. (( Night<3 ))
As the crystalline wall turns in on itself trying to stab into the space between the angles it rapidly morphs and flows through impossible configurations the hound growing and shrinking in facets that flick in and out of existence despite the beings efforts it seems the beast is about to cross and become multitudes when Drystans bullet hits the crystallized starlight as the beast emerges shattering into thousands of shards that fall to the ground and begin to wink out of existence as Free takes his leave once more. In the end a single hound remains visible now to all such as it can be comprehended at all. It seems built from fractured shards of reality presence revealed not as flesh and blood but refractions in space and time. Shaped by the magics that had briefly imprisoned it. It crouches before Drystan and Hector swaying the maw rent by the bullet that shattered the barrier but full of razor like shards of twisted reality. Lunginh forward the beast seems to split for an instant into two of itself each aiming a vicious bite at the legs of each man. ((7 for drystan 13 for Hector))
[22:07] Hector: barely had time to react. All he knew was that young man running said it didn't like the light. Wait, how many were there? "Fucking..." He dropped to one knee, shoving the burning butterfly net to the grass in front of him and Drystan. The gun shot made his ears ring and he couldn't tell if it hit. He had no idea what Free had done and the only thing he could think of was to put a wall of fire between himself and Drystan. Elementalism was not his thing, but he could try to force the plants in a particular direction and let the fire do its thing. If him and Drystan got burned...well better than being eaten was his only thought. He put an arm over his mouth and nose, squinted as he attempted to burn the grass between them and the creature. "Forgive me." He whispered to the plants, closing his eyes and saying a prayer to the Mother. Wasn't a great time to be barefoot, but it wasn't a great time to be in the forest just then, either. There's no way for him to avoid being bitten, but he'll gladly take the maim to set things ablaze, letting out a howl of his own. "BURN FUCKER!"
[22:15] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) pulls his left arm up as Hector starts burning things, "What the fuck mate?! WINGS?" He tries to squat and roll to the left, awat from the rows of teeth and shards, it glitched and split in two, one nabbing Hectors leg and his snapped through his pant leg into flesh as well, but it caught him in a less meaty spot, Now he was seeing what his brother had dealt with for years, dispatching these things with his blade and i swell of respect rose in him. However he didn't dwell, and instead pulled the grip of the gun down again and again on the hounds head, hammering at it to let go of him and not suck the time out of him with that ghastly aura it had earlier that sapped him. "Kill it! Just fucking die already!"
Where the hound struck it sapped time, setting right what had been warped by the meddling of men. Drystan once more felt that pull on the stolen years of vitality that sustained his siblings and himself through the long years. Hector felt instead the anchoring to this time and place and with it the loss of other times, other places not tied to this timeline. Memories, the very feelings fading some vanishing under the savage tearing of his flesh. With a vicious jerk it snaps its head around to pull Hector off his feet then lunging for the neck while that dark power siphons the years from Drystan feeling that stoken vitality fall away.
[22:31] Hector: absolutely growls and it comes out in a completely inhuman way. He's pissed and in pain and...maybe a bit horny. His wings flare out and flap furiously. "Yes wings! I told you before I'm not normal! You should see my dick!" He kicks furiously and tears his leg away with a spurt of blood and rip of flesh, still having managed to hold onto the flaming butterfly net. He starts trying to bash the creature in the head with it. His arm has gotten pretty good from swinging a scythe so there's that at least. "I'm trying!!" He replied when Drystan screamed to 'kill it!' Hector wasn't ready for a fight that night and he's just tripped to the ground, slamming to his back with a thud. "AGATHA! MARIA! HAT-MAN!" The fact that he even had to yell for them makes him a bit pissed. They were there, but they were being brats. Water would begin to bubble up around the edges of the fire, Agatha the Drowned Woman rising up out of the ground, gurgling and twitching. She would keep the fire under control. A huge rabbit would come soaring over Hector's head and attempt to SMASH into the creature as it dove for Hector's neck and a hand made of darkness would reach out and tray to pull Hector out from under the creature. ((3+6=9 Dice Bot plz.))
[22:44] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) falls back against the ground as time shifts around him. Images of this place shuffle like a flipbook gone askew, he can catch himself in some of the flashes, haunting himself. He sees thing out of place and things he should never see from before our time in the cosmos. He felt faint, and tries to drag himself away, using his other leg to kick before he pulls back and fired again at the full body of the hound. Three rounds left. His soul was leaking into the darkness and he could feel the power that had just been renewed so recently, that juiced up feeling was long gone. He began his prayers as Hector was tossed around, "Child of Azathoth, bring be strength, The Crawling Chaos, give me the power of your mind, ..." He hadn't used these prayers outloud in front of anyone, nevertheless a hound. ((d10+6= 7 on the body shot))
The hound was battered by the ghostly interlopers staggered to one side then then next in the slick mud just enough to knock the beast out of line of Drystans shot. Lunging forward it gnashed it's teeth aiming for Hectors neck with a ferocious bite. The teeth sunk not into flesh but spirit as it sapped more memory, more ties to times and places beyond this realms rooting Hector to this time this place this time-line. the prayer snapped the beasts head around to face Drystan releasing Hector at the threat of a believer. Perhaps saving the necromancer form being fully sapped of his memories of that other world.
[22:59] Hector: 's head was spinning. Things felt so very distant. A memory was gone. What was it? The beauty of a blonde haired vampire and crawling across the floor nude to service him. It was gone. Standing up to the vampires to try and save said vampire's life. Throwing himself into the fray and speaking out of his place. A memory that defined him. It's gone, twisted right out of his body so the only thing that remained were his wings. His wings. His wings. HE ROARED! It was an actual roar. His blood beat hard and there was a rush in his head. His ghost companions screeched. Hector very rarely lost himself. He was a chill soul but a piece of him was gone, taken away by the Hound of Tindalos. The ghosts reacted all at once, even Hat-Man who normally was just more like a scout started for the creature. Hands were everywhere, trying to grab, snatch, claws, reaching from the beyond with the desire to tear it apart. ((2+6=8))
[23:09] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) 's body was desperately trying to repair itself as time was drained from him, memory and vision from al his many years slipping out of him as well, his face showing the blackened bloody sockets they were at the ritual, then phasing back to normal, then into something sick and twisted and old and full of death, then back around again in just a flash of a moment. He kept his mind as focused as he could at the Tindalos, his mouth still moving as his pryers seemed to have caught it's attention. "Yes...come to me...Nyarlathotep wills me his madness you understand? my patron, the most wicked of them all. None dare cross his yellow path." He felt his skin stitching itself back together under the pantleg, but the drain and siphon on him was what was keeping him down. "He lets me see the shadows in the dark, he gives me the gifts i have to see into the beyond, past his charades...He is your heart, he is your soul, .... you cannot deny his power.." Weaker now, he holds his hand out to try and wrap his mind around the beast itself, and squeeze and pull and rip and tear, much the way that he exploded the runner in the livingroom. (((10)+6 = 16))
The beast turned to stalk toward Drystan now jaws snapping shut only to be reset into gaping by a distortion in time. It slowly advanced buffeted and clawed by ghoastly assault slowing it's timeborn movements and forcing it into a straight line advance under the assault. The prayers to fell powers were answered and his power swelled as he rent the beast in twain tearing and ripping it into ever smaller chunks that fell rotting to the ground rapidly fading to dust as millennia of life outside time suddenly slammed into the creature upon death.
[23:19] Hector: is absolutely rabid for a few good minutes after the creature is torn to shreds. It explodes, but he doesn't even care. He starts pounding his fists into the gunk that fell to the ground. Maria the little girl ghost is screaming and jumping up and down in the mess like she was playing hop scotch, Agatha and Hat-Man manage to pull themselves away. Agatha makes a wave a literal WAVE of water just move across the field to put out the fire. She's good at drowning things...and people. Finally, most of the gook is gone and Hector is just on the ground sobbing black hysterically and growling like a pissed off cat...with wings. He heaves and reaches up to rub at his face. "Fucking...son of a FUCK!" Looks down at his leg and moans in pain but shakes it off. "You in one piece?" He croaks to Drystan.
[23:24] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) watches as it dissipates and lets out a loud groan and falls all the way back on the ground, "Oh...fuck....whew...oh...that was too close..." Hector croaks after him and he sits up again, and makes it to his feet, but holds onto one of the tied up logs over the fire and leans, hold his hand against his chest. Something was not quite right, but..he'd have to figure out just what later, as he couldnt quite recall. "Ahhh yeah, mostly...you gonna be okay there?" He pointed at his leg. He didn't have any healing powers, but he knew how to tie a tourniquet.
[23:30] Hector: was missing something and he was fully aware that the creature took it away. He couldn't even touch on the memory that was gone, but it was gone. Oddly enough, taking that time away sort of made Hector 'younger.' Unlike the Windgraces who were stealing time to keep themselves young, Hector was considerably older because he'd lived in other places. Without that, he felt...younger, stronger, and a little less...traumatized, truth be told. However, Hector DEFINED himself by his trauma and to lose them was like losing friends. He spat to the side, a mix of blood and black ichor. "I can heal myself. Takes quite a bit to be rid of me. I am not as hearty as you, I imagine but..." Heavy sigh, eyes closing momentarily. He stayed on the ground, pressing his hands to the grass and soil. Plants would wrap around his leg, bright green and happy...only to turn brown, gray, and then to ash and disappear as he sucked the very life from them. Hector 'borrowed' life force to heal and keep himself well, returning it in his work with the dead and the fact that he accepted he would die and give himself back to the Earth one day. "Guess I gotta find that guy and give the butterfly net back..." Snorts. "Do I even WANT to know what the Hell you've gotten yourself into?"
[23:37] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) sighed wearily. "I wouldn't know where to start...but...thank you." he reached down and lifted up part of his shredded trousers to reveal a scar lingering, but it too would fade with some time.. Ah, time. "Let's just say I'm not just clown just messing with time, THAT thing, wasn't supposed to be here. And the other..." How to explain Free? His mind bent a little bit and he wiped his hand over his face. "Look, just know the other one...it's not a danger, its not malicious.... if you encounter it again. But those? Just...fly the fuck away from them."
[23:42] Hector: gets the bleeding under control at least and then pushes himself to his feet. The wound would heal. It looked pretty bad but it was enough that he could hobble. He turned to look back at Drystan, looking at the wound and then eying him up and down. "It weakened you." He said reaching out like he might touch Drystan's cheek and then stopping short, thinking better of it and pulling his hands back to himself. He tucked the butterfly net into his belt loop and nodded. "I'm chill with most Celestial Beings. In fact, I think I probably would have been all right with that doggy, if I hadn't been with you. Or not...A Time Warden of sorts? It took something from me." Heavy sigh. "It knew I've...had Time Magic cast around me before. Not my finest hour. I warn people not to do it because of the consequences." Spits out his tongue. "But I've never seen anything so..." Makes a vague hand gesture. "Then again...I suppose very few ever have. That's not the type of creature you live to tell the tale." He had calmed down considerably and was just kind of 'whatever' about the situation like he was about most things. "I swear this fucking island...Wait...there's MORE of them?" Grunt.
[23:52] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) coughed and lifted his hand up when Hector made to reach up, but he wound up not intercepting anything. "I'll be fine..mostly. I will ... do what I need to do." He needed to paint is what he needed to do. The portrait awaited him. "There are as many as can be imagined, Hector these are old and ancient beings.. they rule outside of time and our cosmos. For you to walk away intact is, a feat. I truly thank you for your aid." And you could tell he meant it by the look in his eyes. There was much these two did not know about each other, but something gnawed at the back of his head that he would have to try and explain this at some point. As much as he could, as much as would be allowed to still keep himself and his siblings safe. He looked around at his trampled clothes and just tossed his hands up, gun still in hand. "Well, I shouldn't have even bothered coming back for this shit. but if i hadn't the original net wielder would have been eaten alive."
[23:59] Hector: could almost sense what Drystan was thinking and he held up a hand. "You don't have to say anything. I accept you and your siblings. I have from the beginning. Whatever you do, whoever you are, it doesn't matter. I like you. I told your sister the other day, I do not want anything from you. I realize how hard that must be to believe considering...your station and what you have likely gone through in your lives, but it is true." He sighed, glancing about, his wings giving a shake. He motioned to the ghosts that had joined the fray, a girl of perhaps 10 with half her face blown off, a drowned woman hanging by her neck, connected to a bolder looking as if she had been tried as a Witch, and a man that was just a shadow in a bowler hat. "These are my companions. Maria, Agatha and Hat-Man. I was born with the ability to see the dead. Of course...I already gave you the little bat, so you know I can bring things back." Deep breath. "Monsters have been my friends since before I could speak and I serve immortals as I see fit. Not for power but because I was taught that is what people like me are 'meant' to do. My family was from the Old Country...fancied themselves 'Knowers.' Individuals that pre-date Christianity, and get along with all religions. We commune with all...as we can walk anywhere and everywhere we please." He shrugged. "Now then, would you like a lift home?" Waggles a wing with a smirk.
[00:07] Drystan Windgrace (jacksonn.shepherd) listened sadly to his explanation, and though he couldn't see Hectors ghosts, he thanked them quietly for their help. Nodding he just blinked several times. "OKay.. I understand. And I trust that you're not a threat for us." He looked in the air, then at the path back out of the wilds towards home. Choices, choices. He was fucking exhausted. He was more drained at this point than it would be for a normal ritual. "You know what? So long as you dont grope me, or drop me...fine. Let's fuckin' go. But I swear, if you do either..." He just gave Hector that look of "and I'll find you and you wont like it" but he was still takin a lift the quickest way back to being able to rest.
[00:12] Hector: snorts when Drystan said 'don't grope me or drop me.' "What do you take me for?" Hmphs teasingly and reaches out, holding out his arms, eyebrows bouncing up and down. "I would sweep you up, but I get the impression I might get slapped, so I'm just going to wrap my arms around your waist and take you that way." Which he would attempt to do, assuming Drystan doesn't stop him. "Just put your arms around my shoulders. I'm not going to grope you...not until you want me to." Another wink, and a flick of his tongue showing that it was pierced. "If something wriggles down there, not my fault and not on purpose. I just had something new installed. And that's...not a joke, I mean literal. Hoping to be able to make a kid outside my species so ya know...had to get something special." Clears his throat as he flaps and flaps and flaps to get lift. "Have you there in two shakes. Er...three flaps."