Outside 44: Baby it's cold outside

[LadyOfWar]

Her first step into the mist is bold, her second falters, and her third step finds her stopping to gag. For an instant both woman and dog turn their eyes toward the bay, glassed over, almost enthralled. Then the binding does its work, the balance of the Earth replacing the imbalance of the miasma and cleaning the air before it reaches their lungs. Both snap back to reality, and simultaneously snarl at the cloying rot of death.

The first thing she notes is the ubiquitous sargasso. Not for the first time since settling so near the coast she mentally curses her ignorance of sea life. It does little good to know every tree in the forest when one visits the seashore and the only trees are driftwood. A memory tickles the back of her mind. "Boats said something about it..." The dog wags its tail vigorously at the mention of their friend 'Boats' the old sailor.

Then her eyes fall onto the shattered gatehouse door.

She draws her sword; whatever was able to tear apart the gatehouse door, may still be around.

Slowly she moves forward, edging right to avoid the great lump of dying sea life on the gatehouse's left. She is looking for cover to duck behind, wishing to reach the gates unnoticed - wishing to avoid the gatehouse and its strange sea-sloshing sound altogether. The binding on her bandanna worked, so she starts muttering a second binding, this one a simple spell to camouflage herself in rain or mist.

"I'll cloak you when we find some cover," she tells her companion, her voice the barest of whispers. She doesn't want to take her hands off her sword to trace the bindings over the beast while they're in the open like this.

[Fenric]

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I said I wasn't expecting much, fog-face.

It takes more that to unsettle someone born and raised in a traditional Ravenloft Domain.

But before I explore other options, it seems you have a welcoming party! So, what ugly watery horror you got for me?

He glances around the room for anything that might potentially be reasonable cover.

[Ionbound]

[The Fog of Red Hood-An Idea Springs Forth]

As the baker looks up at the lighthouse, she smiles as a hope springs to mind. Perhaps the light of the tower, if used properly, could clear away the fog...Or, if nothing else, reveal the truth of matters. She starts heading out the door, then stops as she realizes that she might need more ammunition and heads towards her home to pick up a box of bullets.

[UncleWolf]

Miles Away From Anything

The Empress gives a tired sigh and despite being covered in armor appears to be rolling her eyes at Geneva before she turns around to pull out a vellum scroll tucked away in the back of her tower shield. "You are being close-minded and too presumptuous on purpose now." She decides as she turns back around and flicks the scroll down to try and lightly bap Geneva's nose. "You are neither the first people I have met here, nor are you the only ones to try and expand upon the superiority of technology, thinking it would awe me into submission. But you are only hearing what you wish to instead of listening to me." The Empress explains as she unrolls the scroll, showing a map of the region including the cities. "I bought this from the caravan trader I met." She adds as she lays it out and reaches into a pouch to pull out three gold discs the size of orange cross-sections. "While I doubt the accuracy of its scale, it will prove my point." She adds as she covers Skyside, Riverside, and Inside with the coins. "Without the cities, what do you two see?" She asks, gesturing at the map. There were still plenty of towns and villages on the map, but apart from all of that there were rivers and mountains and terrains of all shapes and sizes. All in all, it was as good of a map as one could be without it being updated minute by minute.

[Recaiden]

Pond

Clara picks up the rod and the box, confused.
"What? You're not like him at all. I mean, you're both furry, but besides being different gender, you have different numbers of legs, you're different colors, and he has a muzzle and hooves.
And if I was bad at being human, I'd be something else. And I'm not, so I'm not. So there."
Well you were apparently good enough at being a minotaur that Cloud was disappointed when you stopped Clara, but being good at one doesn't make you bad at the other. Probably.

The manticore sets down her fishing gear on a big flat rock by the water's edge and smiles, a big grin showing all 96 teeth.
"Well just take my word for it. I mean we might have different horns and tails and skeletons and faces, but we're basically the same."

"I guess so. That makes you at least a mediocre human, but you seem like probably the best human. Good work."

Now, to fishing! Opening the box, paws and teeth scrabbling to attach bobbers and weights and hooks and bits of sparkly synthetic bait.

[The Fog of Redhook]

The fog rolled in one night and brought horrors with it.

It consumed the whole town, blanketing the bay and creeping over the sea wall. It slunk through streets and crawled under doors. It devoured light and muffled sound. The defenders on the wall were the first to go, their stifled screams carrying mere yards before diffusing into the mist. Street lamps winked out one by one. Neon signs flickered and died. The town's few night-owls found themselves beset upon by awful, slinking things. Some fled. Some hid. Most perished in fear. Others died in their sleep without ever realizing the doom that befell them. The fog was a twisted thing, leading those who tried to flee the city inevitably to the bay. With eyes clouded and ears filled with a sweet siren's song, they waded out into the surf to vanish among the rolling fields of sargasso weeds.

The only sounds that penetrated the oppressive stillness are the lapping of bay-water on the canals.

It smells of death here. Of rotting mud and brine.

The canals are chocked with scarlet weeds and less wholesome things.

Uncanny mockeries of sea life have begun encrusting everything the fog touches.

Now the coastline lies buried in the mist, only the grand lighthouse rising above it at the town's highest point. The last light in the gloom. The last light calling out desperately for help.

((What's this? Spooky plawts? Anyone can feel free to join, either as a survivor in the city of Redhook trying to find a way out, or as an adventurer answering the radio/magical/whatever call for help from the lighthouse.))

The first thought was that this was a trap. The lighthouse had sent out that radio for help, light on details, and precious little else. No response when she tried to answer. But then they saw the fog so high and far from the sea, and knew it was at least a little out of the ordinary. Alice looks at the fog with...is she hearing something from within? Unwraps a stick of gum, cherry flavored, and throws it into her mouth. Straps on her breathing mask, throws the relevant extra gear into her pack. Flares, flashlight, tinned soup, spare filter. Harpoon gun. Okay, ready. The shuttle lets her down well outside that horrible cloud, setting her hooves on the dew-damp road into town.

The centaur sets off into the fog. Heading for the lighthouse, get them the help they need.

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

Clara isn't really sure how to respond to that, so she just nods and starts trying to get the rod set up. She's...not really good with knots. She'll get it eventually, but the manticore might be able to speed things up if she offered her help.
"So, what's your name? Are the fish here any good?" she asks conversationally.

[Recaiden]

"I'm Karen! I-no, look, it has to go over that loop, let me show you."
The manticore does volunteer to help with the fishing setup.

"The fish here are pretty good. Not as nice as some places in the mountains, where they're super-duper fresh."
"Do you like fish? They're not as good as-"
"Well, and the water here is kinda weird. Feel it, it's heavy. But it makes the fish super-shiny."

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

Clara raises an eyebrow and dips her fingers in the water.
"Heavy? How can the water be heavy? Is it, like, full of minerals or something?" she asks.

[Recaiden]

"I dunno."
Karen shrugs, mane of hair bouncing this way and that.

The water is exactly full of minerals. Lots of iron, lots of nickel, fair amounts of other, stranger stuff.

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

Clara shrugs and gives the rod a flick with her slightly wet hand, letting the line out. She also takes off her shoes, and stretches her legs on the shore, though her feet should only get a little wet.
Now it's just the waiting game until something happens, right?

[Recaiden]

Karen casts her own line out into the water and...exactly!

Now...
they wait.

That's how the fishing goes with rod and reel. One might notice that the ripples don't spread terribly far, compared to what you might expect.

Clara might start to feel a tingling on her feet where they disturbed the water and flakes of shining metal seem to be gathering, just slightly.

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

Clara looks down and pulls her feet out of the water.
"Maybe this water is weird..." she says, staring down at her wet feet and the shore.

[Recaiden]

The water is disturbed a little bit by her taking her feet out, but settles down quickly. And not a moment later, Karen jerks the fishing rod up and is reeling something in.
"I think I got one!"
"A fish, a real hooked fish!"

As for Clara, her feet remain wet and with perhaps a bit of the sparkliness on them. Actually, as she looks down, what is it that Clara wants?

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

Clara laughs in excitement. "Great! Pull it in!"

Clara wants plenty of things. The possibility of Cloud actually liking her brings up that point. She wouldn't want to hurt him, so she'd want things to work out between them, but if he really was romantically interested she isn't sure what she would do; they're different species and she doesn't really find his bovine features attractive. She has always been interested in finding a guy to be with but finding one who likes her as a person has been hard.
She would also want money and some mild fame. Maybe not to the point of not having privacy, but enough that she could choose her own roles and not be stuck with this contract that forces her into things. Though, those are more desires she has in general and isn't really thinking about.

[Rebonack]

[The Fog of Red Hook]

(The Fox)

Cover? There's a dresser and mirror standing opposite the door between the fox and the dining room. Or rather, there was once a dresser and mirror standing opposite the door between the fox and the dining room. The mirror has been smashed and all the petite glass and ceramic puffins that once roosted atop the dresser have been flung to the floor. The footing is scattered with shards, but the dresser still stands. Perhaps a bit of the broken mirror could even prove useful. Maybe there was a reason why the horror destroyed it?

The fox could use the dresser as cover to peer into the dining room.

Or he could use it as cover to beat a hasty escape into the fog-smothered streets.

Or perhaps something else?

(The Baker)

Move swiftly.

Move silently.

For there are horrors about.

The baker makes haste along the causeway, her flight giving her ample opportunity to note that nearly every door has been broken in, trails of crimson sargasso and sea jelly leading back to the canal running up the middle of the street. In the distance, beyond the limits of her vision in this accursed fog, she hears the sound of something large and limp flop into the water below. Closer still, she spies a misshapen silhouette lurching out of an alley and toward a yet unbroken door, raising an inhuman limb to smash it down.

A choice is set before her.

(The Hunter and the Hound)

So the Hunter steps into the southern gatehouse...

To call what she finds awful would be wholly inadequate. It looks like it might have been human once, ages ago when it walked the sunlit lands of the living. Before it was pulled away into the deepest, fetid depths of the Gloom. It's a hunched, bloated thing thick with the husks of barrel sponges, barnacles, and bits of sea urchin shell. What little flesh is visible upon the creature looks like rancid sea jelly with a stench to match. Sargasso hangs about the bulbous mass of sea undeath where one might expect a head to be. It's left arm is a writhing mass of hooked tentacles. Its left a cruel, multi-pronged pike of skeletal coral. Toothed worms and sand fleas skitter and wriggle about its surface like a skin of vermin. The sodden abomination breaths, or at least goes through the motions of breath, each bubbling wheeze causing oil-slicked brine to ooze and burble and spurt from a thousand spongy orifices.

Laying on the ground in front of the horror are two dead guards, laid low by unspeakable violence and partly eaten. There is no blood, despite their horrific wounds. Instead there is only crimson sargasso in slowly spreading pools.

The abyssal ghast has yet to notice the hunter.

(The Centaur)

The fog stands before Alice as sheer as any wall could be. As she steps in the song grows in intensity, but with her face protected, without the fog's access to her lungs, the song has no power. No power beyond being deeply unsettling. The ground is thick with crimson sargasso and the weeds carry with them an unpleasant crawling sensation should Alice step in them. Before her is the western gatehouse lies abandoned and the gates themselves ajar. Brass casings litter the marshy soil, along with mounds of rotten sea jelly and bone-white sand that appear to be breeding the unwholesome weeds.

This is likely one of the scenarios where ample application of cleansing flame would be prudent.

There are neither guards nor monsters to be found. Only silence and the lapping of water against the walls of the canals. Whoever was meant to stand watch here has either fled or perished. Both the gatehouse and the city itself lie open to Alice.

[Gullara]

Adir tsks at his two eldest, standing behind them. "You two gotta learn when not to rush. It looked like you were gonna clout that bird over the head and make him dinner." He rolls his wrist in a locomotive gesture. "Come on, let's walk."

He looks down at Gwydion before they can start moving, however. Gwydion earns himself a smile. "I saw. Not bad for a junior Frescot. You like animals?" He idly chatters as he gently touches Gwyd's shoulder, nudging him along. He slowly moves aside and lets the three go in front of him for now, a gradual thing as they start to make their way down the path.

[The Great Outdoors]

Gwydion nods enthusiastically before he hurries ahead to catch up with his grumbling siblings. Their disappointment doesn't stay with them long, though, and as soon as Gwydion joins them they start to run down the slope. Adir's gonna lose them if he's not careful!

[The Triple B]

"Careful Kirky, the women might figure out that your inflated ego is compensating for something." Dena replies with a smirk as she watches him down his and her drink. "Besides, you know I draw far more attention than you. Did Lydia even as much as remark on your comments? Might as well have been a conversation of three." She takes the glass the bartender shoots over and downs it without so much as a glance.

[The Triple B]

"Oh I'm not worried about that. I'm ninety percent certain that she's a lesbian anyway. So congrats, all the women want you." Kirk picks up their shots when they arrive and he hands her one. "So I'll be worried as soon as you're flirting with them for a ride."

[Ionbound]

[The Fog of Red Hook-The Baker]

The baker grunts to herself as she sees the inhuman mass preparing to break down the door, and scrunches up her face in preparation as she takes aim and fires her last bullet, hoping that it's enough to take down the monster, or at least distract it from it's intended prey...One more survivor is one more body that can help, once they have earplugs.

[Fenric]

The soldier looks at the dresser and ruined mirror.

Just couldn't have a reception desk...

The risk of getting sliced up by broken glass trying to move the thing seemed iffy... but if these monsters have some odd aversion to mirrors, perhaps that would be useful. He spares a moment to try to find a reasonable shard from the rim, where there should be a polished edge that's safe to hold.

[Shadowcaller]

[Angel Beats]

Hanna blinks at the idea, and says, "I suppose I can't argue with that. I'm all for striving for perfection, but...At the same time, one has to use temperance. But I do think you speak the truth, fair enough."

[The Triple B]

"Oh I'm not worried about that. I'm ninety percent certain that she's a lesbian anyway. So congrats, all the women want you." Kirk picks up their shots when they arrive and he hands her one. "So I'll be worried as soon as you're flirting with them for a ride."

[The Triple B

Dena keeps the drinks coming, trying to match Kirk's pace now. "Ha! Don't flatter yourself, I'd bet you a favour that she's bi. But I am pretty sure she wants me though, that I can't help. There isn't enough alcohol in this bar to consider leaving it with her or any other woman though. As luck has it, I think every man wants me as well. It's only a matter of pick and choose." She smirks. "I'd even let you pick, as long as he's male and good-looking."

[Angel Beats]

"Of course! Temperance is the noblest of virtues, and one few of my own kin put value in. How could someone possible tell it's you if you completely remark your body beyond recognition? Self-modification is an artform that requires a subtle touch, to slowly change something over time rather than one radical complete makeover." Tauro shakes his head. "You can't believe how hard it is for people to understand this concept, Hanna. Do you know what Phyrexia is?"

[Lord Magtok]

Miles Away From Anything

"Without the cities, what do you two see?" She asks, gesturing at the map. There were still plenty of towns and villages on the map, but apart from all of that there were rivers and mountains and terrains of all shapes and sizes. All in all, it was as good of a map as one could be without it being updated minute by minute.

"A whole lot of nothing, honestly," Malice answers. "I mean, nothing that all those city people would pay any attention to. Not unless you have some really fantastic treasure to be pillaged after 'liberating' the unwashed masses from your despotic rule and restoring them to their smelly lives of traditional mud farming and barbarism." Malice, knock it off. These five or six hours out in the middle of nowhere is probably the most time you've spent away from civilization in years; don't pretend you know what life is like outside the major Citysides. Hell, you've been away so long, you don't even know for sure what the cities are like, either.

[Ionbound]

[Angel Beats]

Hanna shakes her head slowly, and says, "I...I'm afraid I can't say that I've heard of it. It sounds interesting, though. What is it?"

[Recaiden]

[Pond]

Clara laughs in excitement. "Great! Pull it in!"

Clara wants plenty of things. The possibility of Cloud actually liking her brings up that point. She wouldn't want to hurt him, so she'd want things to work out between them, but if he really was romantically interested she isn't sure what she would do; they're different species and she doesn't really find his bovine features attractive. She has always been interested in finding a guy to be with but finding one who likes her as a person has been hard.
She would also want money and some mild fame. Maybe not to the point of not having privacy, but enough that she could choose her own roles and not be stuck with this contract that forces her into things. Though, those are more desires she has in general and isn't really thinking about.

Karen does, and soon there's a little fish dangling on the end of a hook. Six inches long, maybe seven, and its scales shining like silver and gold.
"Ooh, look, that's a good one."
Not hard to find someone to like, not hard to find someone to like you, but getting the two to coincide? Clara's right; that's hard.

There comes a tug on her fishing line, zigging it to the left, and then zagging quickly back to the right, briefly pulling the bobber under.

[The Fog of Red Hook]

(The Centaur)

The fog stands before Alice as sheer as any wall could be. As she steps in the song grows in intensity, but with her face protected, without the fog's access to her lungs, the song has no power. No power beyond being deeply unsettling. The ground is thick with crimson sargasso and the weeds carry with them an unpleasant crawling sensation should Alice step in them. Before her is the western gatehouse lies abandoned and the gates themselves ajar. Brass casings litter the marshy soil, along with mounds of rotten sea jelly and bone-white sand that appear to be breeding the unwholesome weeds.

This is likely one of the scenarios where ample application of cleansing flame would be prudent.

There are neither guards nor monsters to be found. Only silence and the lapping of water against the walls of the canals. Whoever was meant to stand watch here has either fled or perished. Both the gatehouse and the city itself lie open to Alice.

A tiny radio and other devices conspire to send a copy of that haunting song back to be stored on a terminal in VIGIL that likely no one but herself pays attention to, along with a report as-things-happen.
She moves carefully, stepping between the weeds where it's possible. One misstep has her shuddering; it's like, they say, when someone walks over your grave.

Blood-red weeds, bone-white sands...and guns not terribly useful to whoever was here. No bodies. No bullets. Something slinked away with them. Alice heads through the gate and into town, keeping far from walls and corners - as best she can. The flashlight seems more to be advertising her presence than lighting her way. She switches it off and throws it in her pack, looking up to confirm that the lighthouse's beacon is still visible. If faintly. That way.

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

With a small cry of excitement, Clara jumps to her feet, possibly getting them wet again, and pulls on her line. Hopefully the hook sets.

[Recaiden]

She's got one!

It's pulling fiercely, but futilely, to get away. Unless perhaps it drags the fishing rod from Clara's hands. Or pulls Clara bodily into the water.
Unlikely though, it's not too strong. But when Clara reels it in, she finds it not set, and not a fish at all, but a scintillating bird hanging onto the hook with its talons.

Karen is busy string her shiny catch and resetting the line.

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

Clara gapes at the bird, too surprise to even yell to the manticore to look.
"You're not a fish. What are you doing on my line?" she asks it dumbly once it's been pulled onto the shore, not really sure what to do.

[Recaiden]

The shiny jay looks at Clara, upside down, with big sad eyes, and gives one despondent chirp.

"Oh wow that's the weirdest fish I've ever seen here!"
Karen was about to cast out her line again, but look at that! How strange!

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

Clara kneels down and tries to gently pick up the bird in her hands.
"Aw, don't be like that. I'm sure you're fine. You just need to dry off, is fine." she says, looking it over. She's no bird expert but she might be able to tell if its wing is broken.

[Recaiden]

The bird's wing seems fine. It could fly or swim, no problem.
Instead it rights itself and stands in Clara's hands, chirping and shaking the water off.

[Deathkeeper]

Pond

"There you go. Alright." she says, sitting down in the sand and setting the bird down on the tackle box. Of course, it's free to fly anywhere at any point if that's not where it wants to stand.

[Recaiden]

The bird chirps happily and spreads its wings and-vanishes in a flash.
Where Clara set it down, there's now a fancy compass, spinning wildly.