Nestor Grimsley -- Demonspawn
The Demonspawn unleashes a surprised grunt as the Golem – apparently in no mood to waste time – takes his request as a stony literal, swoops one massive hand down and hoists him up by his harness. Nestor's first instinct is to swat (quite ineffectively) at the massive hand, gasping out as he does so:
“Oi! Adam! Half a second, don't you think? (Other hand gesticulates madly, indicating the others nearby) I mean to say, this is only -our- half... (Another grunt as the indomitable creature cocks his arm back, so sloooowly back)... perhaps we let the others... oh bugger... If you've gone and offended him, I'll flay your demonic hide alive”. An agonizing pause. A spate of chittering laughter as the Demoness vanishes into a swirl of cloudy blue – a calm before the hurl – and just moments left as Nestor remarks quite calmly, quite sincerely, as he ceases his struggle and stares the inevitable straight in the eye:
“Fuck it.”
And then the Golem throws. Hurls. Chucks. Launches – launches the Demonspawn into a deadly trajectory toward the awaiting statue; the swirling cloud of blue goes streaming after him, catching up to Nestor before the hapless man has made it a quarter of the way to the target, envelopes him in an icy haze – vanishes within him as his skin takes on at first a pale blue pallour, frost forming rapidly on the fringe of his jacket and trailing edges of his limbs. Another brief instant passes. Somehow he has managed to produce a sword – though it would appear painfully insignificant in scale when measured against his foe.
Halfway to the statue now, and the frost has turned to ice, a seething mass of crystalline shards all but encasing his form, a trail of ice and scattered crystals spewing behind him as he surges onward. Headfirst. Reckless as he allows some kind of grimace caught between a smile and a snarl to force its way onto his lips.
Three quarters of the way, and what was once Nestor has become all but unrecognizable beneath the encasing of Hellish ice. A veritable missile. The dozing statue finally seems to become aware of its fate. A deep grumbling and grinding from somewhere within heralds a shower of dust and old debris as the thing comes to life. Fast, terrifyingly fast for something so large – and drowsy to boot – but the creature's blade only manages to shear the top half of the ice, cleaving it clean away before the entire mass hurtles directly into its face.
To those standing below, it might be difficult to make out what happens next. A blinding flash. A bursting crash, as though a thousand bricks had been hurled in the same instant through as many windows. And as the shower of ice and bits of hailstone go rippling in every direction, Nestor might finally be made out – clinging to dear life, as it were, one hand wrapped around a massive canine, dangling an uncomfortable distance above the stone floor – the cavernous maw kept open by a monstrous shard of ice that has lodge itself between upper and lower jaw. With a gasping cry, the Demonspawn clenches his blade tightly in one hand, screws both eyes up into a narrow squint – a sickly blue light begins to pulse from within the blade, ice again forming down the length of his hand as he surges upward with seeming inhuman strength, sends the cold blue dart drilling through the roof of the creature's mouth.
“Brainfreeze, Motherfucker!” Echoes the vaguely distant voice of the Demoness.
There is no sound to follow the action, just the anticlimactic swiveling of his opponent's onyx eyes, rolling back toward its brow as it begins a slow descent toward the floor, keeling over like a felled tree.
It is only then that Nestor happens to notice his harness has become quite firmly stuck in a crevice beneath the monster's teeth -- not only that, but the grinding and whirring from deep within the creature has begun again, both obsidian eyes snapping open. The muzzle begins to twitch -- as though caught in an attempt to determine just what it had gotten lodged between its lips -- perhaps a bit less concerned with its toppling state than might have been hoped. Glancing from his predicament to the fast approaching floor, the Demonspawn might be heard to make an entirely human observation in an entirely surprised voice:
“Oh Shit...”
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Great posts all around, people. Makes lunch break far more interesting. Adam's always a hoot. Though I might not have been clear in my post, Unlit, but the demoness was quite visible at the time -- I'm a bit vaguely imprecise sometimes -- but maybe Adam just can't see her, if that's how you chose to play him.
Derren Krenshaw said
Indeed, we don't need those kinds of shenanigans in the Library. All serious and studious company members are we!...Now, anyone clock the speed on Adam's pitch?
Qualitatively speaking, seems fast enough to leave the pitchee nothing more than a bloody smear on the further wall.
Pssh, an entire branch of the company managed by an Incubus Demon, and we're looking for cleanliness?
Floating weightlessly in the ether of a space caught between time, Nestor found himself exuding a peaceful smile for the first time in a dismally long while; he did not seem inclined to so much as open his eyes, rather quite willing to let the feeling wash over him: the gentle lapping of waves on a quiet shore, and just time enough to contemplate the thought that this indeed might be death – and perhaps death then would not be so bad after all...
And then her laughter cut through his thoughts, a girlish squeal dying away in the vast expanse of formless nothing:
“Ahh, but isn't it lovely, Nestor Dear? Perhaps they renamed this particular Goddess Molly – after a few thousand years of hiatus... and now...”
“If you so much as -think- it...”
“Too late!” More laughter; the unintelligible gibberish of words caught up in the fabric of space as things begin to grow more corporeal around us. I could not help but admit – even if keeping the thought spitefully to myself – the lurid play of feeling and pure emotion did have a markedly druggish feeling; but there were other things to think about – for one the remarkable nature of our new surroundings. I felt a bit embarrassed to admit that I had, in all this time, never once visited the great library at Alexandria – though still I took some solace in the fact that I had personally sent more than a few priceless books and rare artefacts into the care of its guardians. For all I knew my name was engraved somewhere on a shiny little bronze plaque, but I didn't really care to ask; this was a place Demonspawn had never been especially welcome, even if they'd always been more than happy to ask -my- help in obtaining. And as much as there was the distinct urge to go off strolling through distant aisles of ancient lore... well, the present – quite unfortunately – was calling.
Though Nestor appears to take several long moments to scrutinize his surroundings, exhibiting an almost childish interest in the endless accumulation of information arrayed all about, his attitude takes on a far more businesslike demeanour the moment Isis gestures toward the awaiting statues and the vault beyond. He wastes no time, carefully sweeping a jumbled pile of books to one side of the nearest table, disentangling himself from the dufflebag and plopping it atop the newly cleared space.
The Demoness, however, seems far more bent on giving rein to her curiosity – and without so much as a glance to her surroundings snatches up the nearest tome at hand, cracks open the cover (without seeming to notice the title) and begins rifling rapidly through the pages, ice-veined hands a flurry of activity.
Paying her no mind, Nestor continues to swiftly empty the bag of its contents; acting for the moment as if no one were there – as though he were not, in fact, in the centre of the largest and most distinguished library of the entire veiled world – he nonchalantly begins divesting himself of the clothes borrowed from Atticus; the replacement is far more utilitarian in nature. Having just finished lacing up his boots, he stands and frowns to finally take notice of the Demoness: she has by now commenced walking in slow circles around Adam, periodically 'hmming' to herself, now and again pausing to peer at the book, then back toward the Golem.
“Oh, Nestor! Look! Vastly intriguing “The Anatomy of the Golem and his Kind”...” Here she pauses, places a wickedly clawed finger against her lower lip, draws her brow and lips together into a displeased moue before remarking: “But I'm quite afraid it's rather fake... fake or very much behind its times. A shame, really. I'd only just been getting to the part on 'Golem Mating Habits'” Another pause, a wink and a sultry kind of smirk in Adam's direction as she impishly states – “a whole new meaning to the term 'Rock Hard', don't you think?”
Nestor grunts gives a noncommittal grunt at this, scoops up his leather harness and begins strapping his various bits of equipment down – the better part of the objects seem ambiguous in nature, all sleek leather and polished bits of steel – all quite hidden from view by the time he has finished and pulled his jacket over top. Leaving the bag to lie where it his, he pads over to where the Golem stands – one hand rubbing on his chin, he eyes the distant statues critically, before remarking aloud to Adam:
“Well, what do you say, Master Golem? A sword seems marginally... insignificant... but I think between the two of us we could deal with one. If you're willing to lend me a favour or two...” Here he pauses, squinting, then turning to size up the Golem beside him; the Demoness closes the book with a snap – laughs manically at the cloud of dust that billows upward, before flagrantly sending the thing whizzing into a random corner, narrowly grazing some poor scholar's unsuspecting head as she claps her hands together delightedly.
“Yes, yes, Golem-Who-Smokes! A favour... though it involves nothing rock-hard, I'm afraid...” Nestor snaps his fingers irritatedly at the woman, butting back in.
“I need for you to hurl me – as hard as you are Golemically capable” Here he pauses, cocking his head to the side and gazing up at the creature with a lopsided quirk of his lips – “And do not worry, Master Golem – I may not be built as you, but I much tougher than I look. Afterward, get ready to catch -him- before he falls into anything... expensive...” Here he gestures toward the statue before continuing “And don't worry yourself about me... just do be warned! – I can only promise he won't be conscious. Not for how long.”
“Nor how righteous-pissed he'll be upon rousing in the arms of a Golem!” She shrieks directly afterward, clapping her hands together again as she adds “Four centuries Nestor, and you're still coming up with new ways to injure yourself!”
Nestor shrugs lightly in response, addressing the Golem once more: “I imagine you can handle things from there; if not, I shan't be far.”
And then her laughter cut through his thoughts, a girlish squeal dying away in the vast expanse of formless nothing:
“Ahh, but isn't it lovely, Nestor Dear? Perhaps they renamed this particular Goddess Molly – after a few thousand years of hiatus... and now...”
“If you so much as -think- it...”
“Too late!” More laughter; the unintelligible gibberish of words caught up in the fabric of space as things begin to grow more corporeal around us. I could not help but admit – even if keeping the thought spitefully to myself – the lurid play of feeling and pure emotion did have a markedly druggish feeling; but there were other things to think about – for one the remarkable nature of our new surroundings. I felt a bit embarrassed to admit that I had, in all this time, never once visited the great library at Alexandria – though still I took some solace in the fact that I had personally sent more than a few priceless books and rare artefacts into the care of its guardians. For all I knew my name was engraved somewhere on a shiny little bronze plaque, but I didn't really care to ask; this was a place Demonspawn had never been especially welcome, even if they'd always been more than happy to ask -my- help in obtaining. And as much as there was the distinct urge to go off strolling through distant aisles of ancient lore... well, the present – quite unfortunately – was calling.
Though Nestor appears to take several long moments to scrutinize his surroundings, exhibiting an almost childish interest in the endless accumulation of information arrayed all about, his attitude takes on a far more businesslike demeanour the moment Isis gestures toward the awaiting statues and the vault beyond. He wastes no time, carefully sweeping a jumbled pile of books to one side of the nearest table, disentangling himself from the dufflebag and plopping it atop the newly cleared space.
The Demoness, however, seems far more bent on giving rein to her curiosity – and without so much as a glance to her surroundings snatches up the nearest tome at hand, cracks open the cover (without seeming to notice the title) and begins rifling rapidly through the pages, ice-veined hands a flurry of activity.
Paying her no mind, Nestor continues to swiftly empty the bag of its contents; acting for the moment as if no one were there – as though he were not, in fact, in the centre of the largest and most distinguished library of the entire veiled world – he nonchalantly begins divesting himself of the clothes borrowed from Atticus; the replacement is far more utilitarian in nature. Having just finished lacing up his boots, he stands and frowns to finally take notice of the Demoness: she has by now commenced walking in slow circles around Adam, periodically 'hmming' to herself, now and again pausing to peer at the book, then back toward the Golem.
“Oh, Nestor! Look! Vastly intriguing “The Anatomy of the Golem and his Kind”...” Here she pauses, places a wickedly clawed finger against her lower lip, draws her brow and lips together into a displeased moue before remarking: “But I'm quite afraid it's rather fake... fake or very much behind its times. A shame, really. I'd only just been getting to the part on 'Golem Mating Habits'” Another pause, a wink and a sultry kind of smirk in Adam's direction as she impishly states – “a whole new meaning to the term 'Rock Hard', don't you think?”
Nestor grunts gives a noncommittal grunt at this, scoops up his leather harness and begins strapping his various bits of equipment down – the better part of the objects seem ambiguous in nature, all sleek leather and polished bits of steel – all quite hidden from view by the time he has finished and pulled his jacket over top. Leaving the bag to lie where it his, he pads over to where the Golem stands – one hand rubbing on his chin, he eyes the distant statues critically, before remarking aloud to Adam:
“Well, what do you say, Master Golem? A sword seems marginally... insignificant... but I think between the two of us we could deal with one. If you're willing to lend me a favour or two...” Here he pauses, squinting, then turning to size up the Golem beside him; the Demoness closes the book with a snap – laughs manically at the cloud of dust that billows upward, before flagrantly sending the thing whizzing into a random corner, narrowly grazing some poor scholar's unsuspecting head as she claps her hands together delightedly.
“Yes, yes, Golem-Who-Smokes! A favour... though it involves nothing rock-hard, I'm afraid...” Nestor snaps his fingers irritatedly at the woman, butting back in.
“I need for you to hurl me – as hard as you are Golemically capable” Here he pauses, cocking his head to the side and gazing up at the creature with a lopsided quirk of his lips – “And do not worry, Master Golem – I may not be built as you, but I much tougher than I look. Afterward, get ready to catch -him- before he falls into anything... expensive...” Here he gestures toward the statue before continuing “And don't worry yourself about me... just do be warned! – I can only promise he won't be conscious. Not for how long.”
“Nor how righteous-pissed he'll be upon rousing in the arms of a Golem!” She shrieks directly afterward, clapping her hands together again as she adds “Four centuries Nestor, and you're still coming up with new ways to injure yourself!”
Nestor shrugs lightly in response, addressing the Golem once more: “I imagine you can handle things from there; if not, I shan't be far.”
Crabmeat said
What is myrrh anyways?
Super special tree sap. Has lots of uses -- from incense, to wine spicing, to embalming mummies.
Welcome back, Tirg -- you've been missed!
Hmm...As for the weekend? It's birthday for the comrade-in-arms; thus, it's a good one. We already had to send the girl trotting downstairs for a fresh bottle.
Hmm...As for the weekend? It's birthday for the comrade-in-arms; thus, it's a good one. We already had to send the girl trotting downstairs for a fresh bottle.
In other news, I recently made a fascinating discovery: two laundry hampers allows for the endless cycling of clean and dirty. I now welcome the days of never needing to fold anything ever again.
Excellent.
And just out of interest, are our characters actually -- you know -- physically riding this goddess creature? Or is the bird form more metaphorical, right before she magically spirits us away to the destination?
Excellent.
And just out of interest, are our characters actually -- you know -- physically riding this goddess creature? Or is the bird form more metaphorical, right before she magically spirits us away to the destination?
The subtle shimmer of the evening air a few paces away from Nestor announces the appearance of a shade gate; turning toward the unexpected disturbance, the Demonspawn releases a soft breath of seeming relief as his butler emerges from the shadows just beyond the edge of the portal – precisely dressed, as usual, and perhaps looking more at home behind a crisp nameplate arranged around some conference table than amidst the diverse crew gathered that night – the Vampire takes scarcely a moment to sweep his eyes over the assembly, gaze only settling for any length of time upon Isis – for whom he pronounces beneath his breath nothing more than “Hmm.... interesting...” And then turning to wordlessly extend a bulging duffle-bag toward Nestor, remarking as he does so:
“As you requested, Sir. I see you found some more suitable clothes. Hope you haven't been making a spectacle of yourself...”
“No more than usual, Ned” I reach out and accept the comforting weight of the bag, sling it over my should before offering in response: “But you are just in the nick of time; many thanks – consider yourself on Holiday until I've need again.”
The vampire offers a quirk of his lips at this, quipping dryly in response: “The last time you said that, Sir, I recall evading the better half of New York's police force in a mad dash to save you from an unplanned visit to the hospital” Leaving no space of time for a reply, Ned offers a respectful inclination of his head before stepping backward and slipping through the gate mere seconds before it blinks out of existence.
“Oh-ho! And how do you like that, Nestor? Getting a bit uppity with you, don't you think?” Comes the frozen tone of a snide comment just behind his departure. The Demonspawn simply gives a light shrug, adjusting the strap on his shoulder and muttering as he plods to take his place before the awaiting Goddess.
“About time the poor fellow grew a personality, don't you think; only took him – oh, what now? The better part of a century?”
“As you requested, Sir. I see you found some more suitable clothes. Hope you haven't been making a spectacle of yourself...”
“No more than usual, Ned” I reach out and accept the comforting weight of the bag, sling it over my should before offering in response: “But you are just in the nick of time; many thanks – consider yourself on Holiday until I've need again.”
The vampire offers a quirk of his lips at this, quipping dryly in response: “The last time you said that, Sir, I recall evading the better half of New York's police force in a mad dash to save you from an unplanned visit to the hospital” Leaving no space of time for a reply, Ned offers a respectful inclination of his head before stepping backward and slipping through the gate mere seconds before it blinks out of existence.
“Oh-ho! And how do you like that, Nestor? Getting a bit uppity with you, don't you think?” Comes the frozen tone of a snide comment just behind his departure. The Demonspawn simply gives a light shrug, adjusting the strap on his shoulder and muttering as he plods to take his place before the awaiting Goddess.
“About time the poor fellow grew a personality, don't you think; only took him – oh, what now? The better part of a century?”
Think I'm going to get home from work today and drown this head cold in tea; other than that everything is just peachy.
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