If ever they return to the daycare and don't have shawarma, I might be disappointed. Parry is hilarious as ever.
teapotshark Member
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- teapotshark 11 yrs ago
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Pre-Guildfall, 2008. Communication is what makes a lasting roleplay.
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She unloaded the contents if the magazine into the remaining shooters. Now, in life Beth never was excellent with a gun. Death provided certain opportunities however, and several times over the course of her fifteen years she slipped into the body of a gun-toting whackjob. She took those chances to learn a thing or two. She still couldn't hit a target on the bullseye, but everywhere else was fair game. The thralls either side of her dropped to the ground, struck in the shoulders, stomachs, legs... wherever her bullets ended up. No one, it seemed, prepared for one of their own to turn on them.
A few fiery blasts from the crumbling building took care of those wielding the rockets. She thought she heard shouting again, but her attention was elsewhere. One of the downed shooters dragged themselves towards the flaming corpses on crippled legs. Beth followed and slammed the butt of her rifle into his head. "I always wanted to do that," she told his unconscious form.
A bullet tore through the chest of her meat suit. The strike prompted her out of the body as it fell, and she spun in search of her would-be killer. The lone shooter ran from the scene, their gun pointed behind them. Briefly, Beth considered letting them escape, live, and make some feeble attempt to flee from Nemsemet's grasp, before she decided their death was inevitable. The supernaturals, at least, could not afford to be found a second time.
She ended his run for life with a brick to the head. "Sorry, champ." It was kinder than Nemsemet would have been, by far.
Unburdened by the weight of a body, Beth took off back down the street. Once she caught sight of Tony, Flint and the strangers making their way to... she had no idea where the rest planned to go, exactly, but Flint was headed for his car. Beth waited a moment to perform a headcount, darting through the devastated front wall of the daycare to ascertain the survival of Parry and the Asgardian, then followed Flint. She stopped beside his car. "That plan of yours, Flint dear, what was it again?"
A few fiery blasts from the crumbling building took care of those wielding the rockets. She thought she heard shouting again, but her attention was elsewhere. One of the downed shooters dragged themselves towards the flaming corpses on crippled legs. Beth followed and slammed the butt of her rifle into his head. "I always wanted to do that," she told his unconscious form.
A bullet tore through the chest of her meat suit. The strike prompted her out of the body as it fell, and she spun in search of her would-be killer. The lone shooter ran from the scene, their gun pointed behind them. Briefly, Beth considered letting them escape, live, and make some feeble attempt to flee from Nemsemet's grasp, before she decided their death was inevitable. The supernaturals, at least, could not afford to be found a second time.
She ended his run for life with a brick to the head. "Sorry, champ." It was kinder than Nemsemet would have been, by far.
Unburdened by the weight of a body, Beth took off back down the street. Once she caught sight of Tony, Flint and the strangers making their way to... she had no idea where the rest planned to go, exactly, but Flint was headed for his car. Beth waited a moment to perform a headcount, darting through the devastated front wall of the daycare to ascertain the survival of Parry and the Asgardian, then followed Flint. She stopped beside his car. "That plan of yours, Flint dear, what was it again?"
Another concussive blast barrelled into the wall Beth hid behind. The shockwave sent even her into the street, her concentration hampered by the endless tirade of bullets and noise. Her body flickered in and out of tangibility as she rolled across the road. Bullets coursed right through her, each one starting a ripple of burns through her form. Albeit the only physical pain she was ever likely to feel again, the combination pissed her off.
Enough, apparently, to set some things in motion. One of those things happened to be the nearest dumpster. Beth tossed the oversized trash can towards the origin of the bullets and used the momentary lapse in their barrage to pin her sights on the daycare center. Her spiritual spidey sense couldn't get a lock on anything, but she saw the rest of their merry band taking up arms. As soon as Flint erected a solid dirt shield, Beth darted behind it.
She heard someone shouting and it took her a second to give the voice a name—Parry’s telltale tone clued her in. She perked up at the sound of her name.
“Making a mess is what I'm good for,” she called back to him and took off.
Beth took a shortcut through—literally, through—the buildings on the right side of the street and came around to the back of the shooters. She didn't bother to count them. What was the point? Numbers had no effect on the already-dead. She threw herself into the body of the closest assailant.
Whoever this was, they were not wholly human. Mortal, perhaps, except it felt like they'd been tampered with. They fought the possession with a strength unfamiliar to most mortals, and dropped their semi-automatic in the process, but Beth's fifteen years of experience won out. The internal struggle only fuelled her abilities. She snatched up the gun and returned fire.
Enough, apparently, to set some things in motion. One of those things happened to be the nearest dumpster. Beth tossed the oversized trash can towards the origin of the bullets and used the momentary lapse in their barrage to pin her sights on the daycare center. Her spiritual spidey sense couldn't get a lock on anything, but she saw the rest of their merry band taking up arms. As soon as Flint erected a solid dirt shield, Beth darted behind it.
She heard someone shouting and it took her a second to give the voice a name—Parry’s telltale tone clued her in. She perked up at the sound of her name.
“Making a mess is what I'm good for,” she called back to him and took off.
Beth took a shortcut through—literally, through—the buildings on the right side of the street and came around to the back of the shooters. She didn't bother to count them. What was the point? Numbers had no effect on the already-dead. She threw herself into the body of the closest assailant.
Whoever this was, they were not wholly human. Mortal, perhaps, except it felt like they'd been tampered with. They fought the possession with a strength unfamiliar to most mortals, and dropped their semi-automatic in the process, but Beth's fifteen years of experience won out. The internal struggle only fuelled her abilities. She snatched up the gun and returned fire.
I can't help but imagine Rikive as similar to Lady Sif and considering how Sif dealt with mortals in Agents of SHIELD it brings me great joy.
The change in light came as an interesting development. Beth had not the slightest idea how Parael's wards worked, or even what kinds of wards he placed over the building. But of course whatever he did had to have some sort of flair, even minor as the blue light was. No matter what happened, they could place their trust in that at least. The knowledge of yet another presence outside, and one that carried unsavoury intentions, sparked a desire in her to ditch the meat suit. A desire which grew stronger when Parael drew his sword and made for the door, followed by a lit up Flint.
Wait-- what had he called her? The Ghost of Christmas Past, how original.
I resent that, Beth thought but withheld from speaking. She put away "Dirty Harry" for use another day, though. Increasingly aware of her meat suit's uselessness in the event of a fight, she marched off in search of a back room. She would never dream of abandoning a body in Parael's place of work, even in times such as these, but the street outside would have to do.
The back door was quite easy to find via a storeroom, and with the boys providing a distraction, she slipped out into the cold air. She walked a short way from the building, keeping it in her sights, and deposited the body behind a dumpster. "Sorry old man," she muttered to the unconscious fellow slumped against the brick wall. Freed from the limitations of a physical form, Beth turned back towards the building.
That was when the blast shook the ground she stood on. Her instinct was to become intangible, and she did. Her body passed through a collection of bins on its way down. She fell into the ground and reappeared some way from the front of the daycare center. Flames engulfed cars on the opposite side of the street and bits of debris slid across the ground towards her. Beth couldn't see who started firing the shots through the black smoke, but she felt a bullet zip through her form. She dove behind the nearest wall and tried to focus on their energies.
Wait-- what had he called her? The Ghost of Christmas Past, how original.
I resent that, Beth thought but withheld from speaking. She put away "Dirty Harry" for use another day, though. Increasingly aware of her meat suit's uselessness in the event of a fight, she marched off in search of a back room. She would never dream of abandoning a body in Parael's place of work, even in times such as these, but the street outside would have to do.
The back door was quite easy to find via a storeroom, and with the boys providing a distraction, she slipped out into the cold air. She walked a short way from the building, keeping it in her sights, and deposited the body behind a dumpster. "Sorry old man," she muttered to the unconscious fellow slumped against the brick wall. Freed from the limitations of a physical form, Beth turned back towards the building.
That was when the blast shook the ground she stood on. Her instinct was to become intangible, and she did. Her body passed through a collection of bins on its way down. She fell into the ground and reappeared some way from the front of the daycare center. Flames engulfed cars on the opposite side of the street and bits of debris slid across the ground towards her. Beth couldn't see who started firing the shots through the black smoke, but she felt a bullet zip through her form. She dove behind the nearest wall and tried to focus on their energies.
God I love Parry. "Dirty Harry, Shaft the Tiger, and the Ghost of Christmas Past" is the best line I've ever heard.
She couldn't say she was surprised to find everyone on edge, but Parael opening the door with a sword pointed at her meat suit's heart was not entirely expected. Still, for the time being it passed as amusing.
"Thank you for the offer but I'm already dead," Beth responded after his initial comment. She cast her gaze about the room, taking in everyone she suspected were there, before stepping inside. She offered Parael a small smile. "You're forgiven."
Most of the people in the room were familiar faces, especially the demi-god and Flint. Oh, he appeared to be irritated. She liked that; she grinned. Already several jibes bounced around her head, begging to be uttered in his direction. She kept her lips sealed, however, to catch herself up on the conversation at hand. For now it was perhaps safer in numbers. Unless the dread mummy himself sought them out, she and the others could easily hold their own against Nemsemet's minions.
Before Antonio replied, Beth felt another's energy growing closer out of the fog of her senses until it reached the door, where it stilled. She didn't know much about Parael's wards on the place, but whoever it was, she was not the only member of the group to recognise another presence; Antonio pointed out the eavesdropper as he spoke, tapping his nose.
Beth smirked and moved away from the door. "Let's deal with this quickly, yes?" she spoke, loud enough for the newcomer to hear, should the wards not include soundproofing. "If you all want to avoid mummy dearest, that is."
"Thank you for the offer but I'm already dead," Beth responded after his initial comment. She cast her gaze about the room, taking in everyone she suspected were there, before stepping inside. She offered Parael a small smile. "You're forgiven."
Most of the people in the room were familiar faces, especially the demi-god and Flint. Oh, he appeared to be irritated. She liked that; she grinned. Already several jibes bounced around her head, begging to be uttered in his direction. She kept her lips sealed, however, to catch herself up on the conversation at hand. For now it was perhaps safer in numbers. Unless the dread mummy himself sought them out, she and the others could easily hold their own against Nemsemet's minions.
Before Antonio replied, Beth felt another's energy growing closer out of the fog of her senses until it reached the door, where it stilled. She didn't know much about Parael's wards on the place, but whoever it was, she was not the only member of the group to recognise another presence; Antonio pointed out the eavesdropper as he spoke, tapping his nose.
Beth smirked and moved away from the door. "Let's deal with this quickly, yes?" she spoke, loud enough for the newcomer to hear, should the wards not include soundproofing. "If you all want to avoid mummy dearest, that is."
Tony isn't the only one that can tell you're character is there
But of course I'll wait for HeySeuss to post before doing anything myself
Double ditto.
Maybe the upcoming action sequence will give Rarity a chance to jump right back in!
Christina
Chris kicked at a rock embedded in the dirt near the well. The stubborn thing held its own against her boot's tirade, only serving to strengthen her bad mood. She sat on the edge of the well, her good arm gripping the stone while the other rested in her lap. Her hand annoyed her too, a reminder of her stupidity and weakness. She avoided looking at it, instead focusing her gaze on the attic. Had Mercy left yet?
That didn't seem to help her mood either. She rolled her shoulders, huffing at the stiffness of her joints, and got up. Exercise always helped clear her mind before the apocalypse rolled around. Chris plotted her path from the well, turning on the spot, and set off at an easy jog. As the stable neared she picked up the pace, and again as she passed it, until she was sprinting.
The voice of her captain came back to her the more she ran, drilling the officers across the station. Memories followed; the image of the station still fresh in her thoughts as if she had been on duty yesterday. She swore she felt the weight of her gear then, and the echo of her boots on the station floor. Chris let herself become lost in the memory, vanquishing all other thought. The pain of her hand and the soreness of her knee seemed to disappear. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and she smiled.
She ran laps of the farm until she saw someone leave the farmhouse, then began to slow. Chris came to a gradual stop outside the barn, the pain in her knee and hand returning but now only a dull ache. She hesitated to enter; at the sight of the bow and quiver she knew who it was. Scolding herself, she walked into the barn. "Mercy?" she called out softly. She found her near Bandit's stall. "I wanted to apologise. For my behaviour, earlier."
Anthony
After she had torn from the room, Tony spent a good few minutes just sitting on his designated bed and staring at their half-packed bags opposite him. He wondered if anything he said made any kind of difference to Chris' choice. He wondered a long list of things, unanswered questions like embers threatening to come alight in his mind. The longer he thought about them, and the attic and the fuel run and the state of the world as it was, the more uncomfortable he became. So he rose from the bed and slipped quietly out of the room.
He walked along the hall as if he were sneaking out; making careful heel-to-toe steps and eyeing the doors on either side. When no one seemed to be disturbed by his manoeuvres, he allowed himself to be the slightest bit less cautious. The farmer's dog and cat scurried past him then, and he turned his head forward to see what frightened them. As he rounded the corner towards the front of the house, he spotted the cause of their fear; Cat had left the attic. Tony swallowed. "Hello," he whispered, the level of his voice betraying him. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. "Are you feeling better?"
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