Culluket

Rain's Hand [ Culluket x Hank ]

Loka kept close to the Inquisitor as he slid grimly through the black wood; closer than she had cared to stand until now, huddling within the flickering orange pool of light that seemed so small and vulnerable against the looming dark. Night wind hissed through the silhouetted leaves above them, the branches groaning unnervingly. Something darted beneath the undergrowth to one side, setting the bushes rustling, and she stifled a panicked squeak. But Gregor did not seem afraid. Only determined, resigned. His voice was bleak and steady. His emotion tasted like stone.

At some point she became aware that she had placed her hand on his back without knowing it.

This was not a land with which the Deva was familiar. She had never set foot within a forest, let alone in the black of night. And she didn't like it.

It was like the cells.

She had pushed the memories aside, buried them in color and distraction, flitted through the days as though each was her first and never looking over her shoulder. But now, in that eerie gloom, they came creeping back. Fear was beginning to seep into her heart, and she struggled to quiet her breath as it came in soft, shuddering little gasps. Anything could be lurking in that great, blind shadow. Watching them. Her mind flowed with imagined visions of what the creature that lurked within the darkness might look like, ranging from the comical to the absurd. She shook them off as Gregor spoke.

"Dogs. Yes. I can smell..." she sniffed the air deeply, whispering in a tiny, strained voice, "...Ten."

She sniffed again, eyes darting from one impenetrable shadow to the next.

"...There are too many wolves in this forest." she added half-peevishly.

Avalon: A Tale of Arthurian Legend

Typical Alpha Legion.

Avalon: A Tale of Arthurian Legend

Working on something. Does anyone in the list want a cameo fighting a bridge duel to a standstill in my backstory? The general notion being that my character prevents anyone from crossing and sends them packing if they try, until fighting a true knight, realizing their intentions are honorable and joining the cause. None shall pass.

Mass Effect: Brink

Coolio. I deliberately avoided mentioning him in the narration in case he was ~infiltrating~.

Mass Effect: Brink

Alrighty, well, there's a setup post. Whoever wants to respond, we can keep it as brief as you like, and whatever happens, my next post will be Vol getting checkmated by Zik's plan and throwing in with the Dashers. Then we can leave this scene behind and start the ADVENTURES.

@DirtyDingo, I retroactively godmoted Rosa laughing at Vol's painting request because.. well, who wouldn't? If it bugs you I'll take it out, I just couldn't resist.

Mass Effect: Brink

Vol swiveled in his chair, deliberately turning it so the back was faced toward the entrance, as a pair of muted thumps sounded from beyond the door. Yesss, a good businessman knew how to conduct a meeting of this sort. He addressed his secretary without looking at her.

"*Hfffffffff* ...Mz Short, take a note, if you would... Should there be any survivors out there.... "

The locks disengaged and the blast doors slid open.

"...Fire them."

Beyond the doors, the red carpet extended far longer than it needed to, sprawling past racks of weapons and explosives toward the volus's monolithic desk, ringed by its holographic monitors and climbing profit margins. Vol's lean, pallid secretary stood to one side, dataslate in one hand, omniblade hovering over the other, watching the newcomers critically, the hairs on the back of her neck already beginning to stand on end. Above it all, behind the arms dealer's dark throne, hung a gigantic portrait of Vol himself standing on a craggy battlefield, holding a Protectorate flag and standing dramatically at the head of an army of Council races, beckoning them onward and pointing toward the threatening silhouette of a landed Reaper. An inspirational piece, he'd thought upon having it commissioned. Probably how it would have happened, had he been there at the time. He'd approached Martinez to paint some of the others, of course -- she would have been cheaper -- but negotiations had soured when she hadn't been able to stop laughing. Well, they would see who was laughing now!

The enormous chair slowly wheeled around to face the newcomers as they approached, the volus's claws steepled ominously in front of him.

"Ahh, Mz Rayana," he announced, smoothly, turning his attentions to the Asari, "*Hfssssssst* ...what a pleasant surprise. Have you come to reconsider my offer of employment? I may not know what Aria has on you, my dear, but you and I both know that she won't be running this station forever."

Vol pretended to notice the Dashers for the first time. Abrax and Martinez were positively glowing in the aftermath of combat, and there of course was that meddling anarchist Zik, grinning as though having the time of his mercifully brief existence and flicking his ocular membranes back and forth at Vol the way an Earth-clan might waggle his eyebrows. If Vol's suit could have vented steam, it would have.

"Ahh, but I see you've brought guests!" The volus spread his stubby arms wide, his voice dripping with sarcasm. A pair of Batarian mass accelerator turrets whined with an industrial chorus as they unfolded from the walls, training their barrels on the Dashers. "*Hffffft* ...May I offer you some refreshments? Cigars? Perhaps a new shotgun for Abrax? I'm sure you'll find my revised prices reasonable, hm hm hm!"

The beady lenses regarded them all in turn, the gun turrets shifting minutely as they recalibrated with each tiny movement. The diminutive arms dealer continued.

"Yeesss, how wonderful to see the Dash-clan all back together again. How quickly the old habits reassert themselves. Ohh, yes; Callaway reappears mysteriously and you all fall into his lap, as though nothing ever happened!" Vol leaned forward and thumped the table, lurching to his feet. "But it did happen! I suppose he was let go for "good behavior," hnnnmmm?... *...Hfffsscht* ...Perhaps you don't see what's going on here, but Omus Vol is nobody's fool!" he punctuated the statement by thumping one hand repeatedly against the chest of his pressure suit and puffing up as much as the heavy rig actually allowed him to.

"Well?... *pfffsssst* ...Why have you come here, hmmn? What could you possibly have to say to me?"

Mass Effect: Brink

Should I actually do the next post to move things up? Zorogami still seems to be out of a computer and Dingo posted quite recently. Unless @Gowi wants to whack a couple of paranoid guards in a dark corridor and kick in the button that makes the door open (it's the future, that's how they do it) while bitching about Declan, Vorcha and anything else that's pissing him off at that moment, I can just narrate that having happened and begin Vol's Ah Mister Bond Welcome To Amsterdam speech.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

If only I'd crashed it and added a surreal, pontificating cat to the mix.

Rain's Hand [ Culluket x Hank ]

Loka just glared at him from under her hat, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. The chill fog was beginning to seep through the leather and velvet into her bones, and only the fire of her resentment was keeping her from shivering.

"Fine." she shot back.

The carriage driver cleared his throat awkwardly from his perch, his voice echoing faintly through the soupy, moonlit darkness.

"I'll, um," he cleared his throat again, "I'll just get myself to the village as well, then, shall I?" He reached into his greatcoat and took a dearly-needed swig from a glimmering silver hip-flask, turning his head toward the black wall of the Oakheart wood. "Roost in the barn or suchlike. Anything other'n sit here like a roast pheasant a'waitin' to make a meal for some blasphemous mutt, is what I mean."

Loka sloshed back through the water, gravel and mud to the carriage and extended a gloved hand. The man was handing over the flask before he even knew he was doing it. She took it, tilted it back and swallowed, relishing the burning warmth spreading through her body.

"Do as you please," she said, handing it back up and licking her lips. "He's doing the talking."

She turned back, coat flowing behind her, and followed Gregor as he stepped up the soiled, wet, leaf-strewn embankment and stepped into the pitch darkness of the wood.

---

The moonlight turned to little more than a pale haze seeping through a threatening canopy of shadows, and tiny silver slivers against invisible treetrunks and claustrophobic undergrowth. Insects chirped on every side, and here and there the rustle of some unseen animal bolting away from them set her heart suddenly pounding and her hair standing on end. Gregor's torch illuminated a perilous, vulnerable patch of firelight surrounded by a sea of impenetrable blackness. And somewhere within it, if the Inquisitor's tales were to be believed, lurked a monstrous killer.

Loka ran her tongue against her teeth, trying to take slow deep breaths through her nose. The odd, unpleasant scent was fainter in the thick, mulchy damp of the wood, but the sharp smell of blood still coiled through the looming trees, along with all manner of others, seeping in every direction. She could almost see the trails, floating like the mist all around them. Wet fur. Dung. Rot. Sour water. The heavy perfume of unfamiliar northern plants.

"Gregor," she whispered as quietly as possible, trying to focus on anything at all in the suffocating gloom, "How do you find them?"

Rain's Hand [ Culluket x Hank ]

She folded her arms, giving back with her eyes as good as she got from Gregor's tongue. She didn't deign to defend herself from his accusations -- though thievery was an ugly and unworthy word for her entirely understandable act. But his final statement was too pointed to ignore.

"Why?" she said, flatly, "And who is to say what should and should not be ours? No, I do not know about lycanthropes, or the Protection of the Realm act or what happened in 734, or a hundred other things in this damp country, but I know when things are odd. And this, is odd."

She looked from the torchlit mass of bloodied limbs to the looming darkness of the forest's edge. An owl's hoot sounded from somewhere within the impenetrable shadow. It was impossible to see.

"Have you killed these creatures before?" she asked, "You are surely not going after it in there? Now?"