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meadowlarklogs2020-06-02 06:34 pm
realists) wrote in meadowlarklogs2020-06-02 06:34 pm
open | no need to be afraid there —
WHO: ANYONE ( outside the sim )
WHERE: New Magellan
WHEN: During Phase Two
WHAT: Cassius Rescue Mission!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, monsters, possible death, etc
--
WHERE: New Magellan
WHEN: During Phase Two
WHAT: Cassius Rescue Mission!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, monsters, possible death, etc
--
> WELCOME TO NEW MAGELLAN
The mission is simple: get Cassius before Johann can delete him. Simple.
The Displaced slip between cities through the gates, arriving in New Magellan with ease and moving on to the laboratory where Cassius is located. It's frigid, the southern tip of the South American peninsula a collection of dry, cold islands, and creeping wintery chills, the temperature as unfriendly as the mission they're moving toward.
Cassius's map leads them on a road outside the city which brings them to the laboratory quickly enough and they're able to get into the facility itself with little trouble.
It's not until they're inside that the trouble begins.
The Displaced slip between cities through the gates, arriving in New Magellan with ease and moving on to the laboratory where Cassius is located. It's frigid, the southern tip of the South American peninsula a collection of dry, cold islands, and creeping wintery chills, the temperature as unfriendly as the mission they're moving toward.
Cassius's map leads them on a road outside the city which brings them to the laboratory quickly enough and they're able to get into the facility itself with little trouble.
It's not until they're inside that the trouble begins.
> WHO KNOWS WHAT MAY BE LURKING
The laboratory is devoid of people, seemingly abandoned, and it's not hard to see why. Once they get inside, the monsters set upon them. Some are the same golden-eyed creatures that have become strangely familiar to the Displaced, all sorts of creatures just slightly off in some way, their DNA altered, modified, spliced, warped.
Hopefully someone brought a flamethrower.
◉ A large snake, except that it also has four small legs (two near the front of its body, two near the back) which allow it to skitter around rather than slither, making it much faster than any snake has a right to be. It's large and strong enough to strangle its victim, making it difficult to remove by a single person. Don't let it unhinge its jaw, it's got way too many teeth.In addition to the type of monsters seen previously in the research facility outside New Amsterdam, there is an even more horrifying threat, a new monster:
◉ A hyena-creature with impressive amounts of agility, due to the fact that it seems like almost all of its joints are double-jointed. It can turn its head almost completely around as well, making it an extremely skilled hunter. Its fangs protrude from the top of its mouth in rows of three like a shark. Even if it's disemboweled or it loses a limb, this creature will still continue to attack in a frenzy.
◉ A stag beetle, except that it's the size of a medium-sized dog. It's still able to fly and its pincers can do damage if it's allowed to get too close. Worse than that, they tend to move in swarms of three or four. Beneath the hard shell are human-like eyes with dilated pupils that follow shadows and light.
◉ A humanoid creature that stands on two legs. Its eyes glow in the dark, catching bits of light from a distance. Upon closer inspection, the creature has snake-scale skin, a long, flickering tail, and claws for hands. These scales are incandescent in nature, shimmering whenever they're underneath enough light.
◉A sloth-like mimic that cries from a distance for help from hidden, high places. Once it hears a voice, it can mimic it, drawing someone in toward it due to it sounding like another Displaced. Getting too close will leave them within reach of the creature that's all arms and little else, leaving a toxic and poisonous trap to weaken its prey. Its hiding places include the rafters, where it may drop on those looking for their friends. Under certain lights, the slothly creature's eyes are humanoid in appearance, sharp and aware — yet still gold.
◉ Humanoid creatures that give off a thick, putrid smell of decay. Not unlike zombies, they move sluggishly, but upon closer inspection, it appears that something is off about these people. They have claws, sharp rows of teeth, and skin that flakes off with every shuffle of their feet. Potentially some early or later stage experiment of the snake-skinned humanoids. They're highly aggressive and will follow someone with the intention of attacking until they're incapacitated.
◉ A cross-breed insect that looks like a mix of a wasp and a mosquito, but is only the size of a dime. Its sting can draw out a large amount of blood, sedating the individual. The toxin that they inject will leave large, red welts, depending on the efficiency of the immune system. They're blotchy and painful. Once they have found a target, they will swarm around that individual all at once.
◉ A naked creature resembling a dog with a reptile's body, with patches of hair. This creature has long rows of crooked fangs protruding from its lips, mouth and tongue, with a large, dilated eye. It has sharp scales on its back to keep it from being touched, but it has a thirst for blood. This creature will attempt to surprise its prey from around corners, jumping onto someone's shoulders with hopes of sticking to them and drawing blood like a reptilian tick.
◉ An overwhelming brand of eyeless, bipedal creatures with large rows of teeth that are 7-to-8 feet tall. They're both incredibly aggressive and violent, ready to tear apart anything that comes close to them with open jaws. It'll almost seem like they're inflicted with an insatiable hunger. They're fast, strong, and merciless. And they are not an easy kill.All of the monsters, both new and old models, will rapidly regenerate and continue to fight even with mortal injuries, unless they are taken out with a killing blow (a head taken out, their heart located and removed, or they're burnt to a crisp). No matter how physically unsettling it may be.
Hopefully someone brought a flamethrower.
> OOC NOTES
This is part of the SAVE CASSIUS PLOT and so it's located outside the simulation, but everyone that has since been woken up by Gabriel and Tony and brought out of New Amsterdam can also participate. For more details, please see the mod write up HERE. This is just for the infiltration/monster fighting, the success or failure of the mission will be addressed in the aftermath post.
cw: vague body horror
No. This was how it had to be done.
She leaves the small pack she had brought with her to the side of the road -- it will come in handy later, when she ceases to be a fire breathing lizard. After closing her eyes and taking a long, slow breath, she grasps for Jon's hand. The blue glow is a soft thing that shines through her jacket just so.
When her eyes open again, they are not the vibrant, cool color as they normally were. Instead, they were a fiery, hateful orange. The empathy bond offers nothing but raw anger, hot as the sun as the scales return to race over her arms. But when he bones begin to shift and crack out of place unpleasantly with growth, pain mingles with her anger, and she drops to one knee. Stubbornness is all that keeps her from vocalizing through the process.
The change is swift after that (though no less noisy), and though she is eventually forced to release his hand when her arms grow to wings, it will be clear that the momentary respite had been necessary -- for the change starts to slow when the dragon replaces the woman at her side: small enough to grab hold of again, though not large enough to carry a man for great distances.
The dragon is momentarily exhausted, when it all finishes. She stays flat to the ground like a fish out of water, heaving slow, warbling breaths and attempting to gain her bearings. The party is far enough behind that she does not rouse immediately.]
cw: body horror
If he had not seen the dragons in their shared dream, had not seen her hand a few minutes earlier, he would fear the coming dragon more. He has misgivings, but they are small: this is necessary.
Still, he's taken aback when her eyes change color, when the rage comes flooding from her, rage he hasn't felt since -- he'd felt some of it for Melisandre, for Stannis's little daughter, and less of it when Sansa spoke against his decisions in front of his lords, but in truth, the last time his rage flared hot was when he had bashed Bolton in the face with a Mormont shield and then twenty or thirty times with his fists. And even that, the angriest he can remember being in his life, is only a candle compared to the furnace of Daenerys's fury.
He doesn't drop her hand, even as the scales and claws emerge from it again. He hears a crack as her body shifts, then another, and can't control his startled expression as her arm begins to do something it shouldn't be able to do -- expanding this way, folding that way, growing webbing. Her pretty face -- when he looks at it again, that's gone too.
It's easy to tell, both from their connection and from the sounds she makes, that this hurts her. He doesn't look away. Something comes through from his side: he's worried for her, sorry for her pain. Sorry that she will suffer this to save some sort of man-made god, man-made ghost. There is nothing he can do to make it easier for her. When he has to let go of her, he does, just for a moment. Just for as long as it takes.
Then there's a dragon beside him. If he had not seen her dragons in a dream, he would think it -- her -- large. She is large compared to him, to the woman she was a minute ago, to a direwolf, to a horse, but not to a dragon. Gods. She's panting, so he puts his hand gently on her wing, as she had told him to.]
Easy there. Easy.
[He murmurs words of comfort as she heaves, the way he might if she were hurt. She is injured and not injured, he thinks. This isn't something she chose for herself.]
no subject
His voice cuts through the anger, thanks to his hand on her wing. The next time she huffs out a breath, it comes as a small cloud of mist on the air, and she rises to all fours. Her head swings on her long neck, turning to observe Jon with one orange eye. There is no mistaking her fury -- but there is recognition somewhere deep within them.
The bond was no good for communicating complex ideas, but she feels his pity for her now that she is no longer distracted by pain. The growl that comes from her is only partially unbidden, and short lived. A minor complaint.]
no subject
If he had anything to fear from her now, it would already be a problem. He doesn’t, but he understands her unhappiness. His hand on her is gentle. He doesn’t know how to soothe a dragon, and he can tell that she’s mostly dragon now — but not entirely.
He wishes he had paid more attention to the stories of the Targaryen dragons of old, but it was Arya who had loved them.]
Doesn’t hurt as much now, does it? If you want to walk about — stretch your legs while the others catch up — I’ll stay with you.
[He’s not even completely sure that the dragon can comprehend his words.]
no subject
But she can comprehend his words well enough. She does not want to stretch, she wants to storm the building, unleash the rage coiling in her belly. But the others are some ways behind, and if she were to forge ahead now then they would be left even further behind.
So she gives into Jon's nudging, sidestepping just enough to spread her opposite wing out.]
no subject
It’s warm, standing next to her, warm enough that it doesn’t matter that his gloves are off. The skin of her wing is leathery under his rough fingertips. He keeps Longclaw close to his side, so there’s little chance of her brushing against it.
Gods, dragons have so many teeth, all of them sharp. Little horns at their temples.]
It’s never an easy thing to prepare for battle. You need fury and fear.
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She has fury. And she won't admit it, but she has the fear too. If he pays close enough to the empathy bond, he might find her on his own -- Daenerys, in the shadow of the dragon, and her fear of losing control of that fury. Somewhere under all of the fire and scales, she measures her breathing, and stays focused on the objective just ahead of them.
And to that point, she takes a long moment to shift her weight to one side, shoulder dipping to the earth in an inviting fashion. It would be easier for him to keep control if he did not have to try and keep up wit her gait. A low rumble echoes out of her chest, something that sounds almost like a purr (if not for the fact it was coming from a menacing half-grown dragon) -- an invitation.]
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[Dragon hide is very thick, he knows that much. But given that the Valyrians were dragonlords, he does not trust that Valyrian steel won’t cut into her. And then what would she be when the dragon leaves her? A small woman with a gash in her side or her arm.
He takes his hand off her, but stays close, so that he can touch her again in half a moment; then, he quickly lifts the jack and sheathes the sword. Then his hand is on her again.]
All right?
[He has misgivings about mounting a dragon. This empathy bond, it’s a little like the way he feels like Ghost is a part of him, but it’s different, too. Stronger, more direct, not just a dream or a hunger or the scent of a fresh kill.
Finally, after that moment of hesitation, he sets to it, climbing on. It can’t be much different than a horse. There are two spikes that seem convenient to cling to, like reins, so he does. And then he says to her,]
If this hurts, if I’m too heavy for you, think of a way to let me know, and I’ll get down.
no subject
But once Jon is on her back, she feels comfortable moving again. She can breathe, she can get her bearings. A piece of her wants to lie back down, the way they had melted to the floor inside of the simulation. But now was not the time, nor the place.
Her gratitude is faint, underneath the dragon's adrenaline, but it is there.
Her shoulders shift, helping to seat him in place before she starts to walk forward with purpose, step by step, muscles rippling.]
no subject
He keeps his seat well enough as she moves, clinging to the two spikes that protrude from her spine.
This is strange: it reminds him of carrying one of his brothers or Arya about on his shoulders when they were small. Arya was almost too close to him in age for it, nearly too big once he was big enough to do it, though she was always little for her age. Bran and Rickon, though, he had carried them each around the yard once or twice while their mother wasn’t looking. The thought of it makes him feel pleasantly nostalgic, a warmth that may pass into the empathy bond.
But if that’s what this is like, then he’s the little child now. And they still have a fight ahead of them.]
Do you have fire in you?
[What will it feel like when that begins?]
no subject
The dragon's nostrils flare as they approach, and she pauses just a few feet away around the back. The fins along her back shrink downward, and a hiss passes between many rows of sharp teeth.
They were close. This would not be a simple smash and grab -- they would be beset by enemies just as soon as they entered the building.]
no subject
The time before battle is always a serious time, the wait nearly unbearable. The fact that they're to be the attackers helps a little; the fact that he doesn't know the enemy well is not. He has not really fought in this world before. Only briefly at Everest. No big battle.
He is becoming keen to fight. Maybe they'll lose today, or maybe they will only be able to help a little. Or maybe, somehow, if they're lucky, they'll be able to do something that helps in New Amsterdam. What that is, he's not sure, so it's good that they aren't there alone.
It's not long before the others catch up with them, and they do what they came for.]
no subject
Until she doesn't.
It's not until the area is clear and the power flickers out from a yank of wires that Daenerys realizes that she needs to back away. There's nothing left to fight here, and everything smells of strange blood and burnt flesh.
She is practically dragging her belly as she moves to retreat to the outdoors. The blast of cold keeps her from finishing the journey -- being nearer to the warmth seems like a better idea. She lays down heavily, leaving Jon to roll off of her outstretched wing.
The strange shrinking of bone will encourage him to move quickly. Before long, the dragon is replaced with an exhausted (and quite naked) Daenerys.
At least the bag with her change of clothes wasn't too far away.]
no subject
But any battle is. From her back, he doesn’t use his sword much, only tries to remain as steady as he can, so she can feel it. That’s hard when fighting has always put a madness into his blood. At one point, when she had killed one of the creatures diving at them, a near miss that had not gone well for it, he had laughed — just once. Another time, he had shouted.
But he had still been calmer and a little more kind than a dragon.
He can feel the power ebbing out of her, so it’s not much of a surprise when she begins to slink away, then shows him that she needs to be free of his weight.
It is a surprise that he turns to find her naked. He blinks, not taking in much, then averts his eyes politely.
A moment later, he’s tugging at the fastenings of his jack, pulling it off, holding it out to her.]
Wait. Take this.
You all right?
no subject
Truthfully, she does not care very much that Jon sees her like this -- naked, that is. Flesh was flesh, after all. Weak, vulnerable, those things are something she is less than pleased are on display. So she takes the jacket to hide those things, the way her pale skin loses some of its color and makes her look more porcelain than person.]
Yes.
[It sounds as if she's been shouting, from how her throat scratches. But she is happy to have the warmth of Jon's jacket to give her a moment's respite while she tries to will her headache away.]
The pack I brought -- it has water. And other things.
no subject
And a cloak would have been better — it would have covered more of her legs, left her less vulnerable — but the kind he wears at home would be out of place in this world.
He nearly puts a hand on her shoulder, to console her somehow, but thinks better of it as she mentions the pack.]
I know where it is. I’ll be back.
[He sets off at a shaky jog. Some of the steel has gone out of him, too, as it does after a fight, when the high blood begins to cool... still, he’s in much better condition than she is. It isn’t long before he finds the bag where they’d left it at the side of the road, and a minute later, he’s back, holding the water out to her.]
no subject
And then she sets it down and lays there for a time, allowing the water to rejuvenate what the dragon had taken from her.]
Thank you.
[It isn't nearly enough to convey her thanks -- but it is what she has. Not only did he bring her water, but he helped her fight. The backpack has clothes for her, and a few protein bars. But her nausea makes her less inclined to indulge on the rest.]
no subject
She doesn’t seem to need it, but it’s a near thing. She can hold the water, can drink it, but for the moment, she can’t seem to do much else. She was so strong, a few minutes past, and now she seems like a wisp of a woman... still strong, but nearly spent.]
It’s nothing, Daenerys.
It always leaves you like this? I don’t know what else I can do. But I’ll stay with you while you rest.
[If she needs help dressing, he could go ask Jyn, but he wonders if Daenerys is too proud for that.]
no subject
[It's not a snappish reply, but one that is very frank and honest. There is even the smallest hint of a smile. Her eyes have drifted shut to relax the effort that every small task seems to demand of her.]
I do not take great pleasure in my gifts, for this very reason.
[And the fact that she couldn't control them by herself, but good luck getting her to admit that one out loud.]
I only learned what it took to control them a few months ago.
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[But that — he had begun to understand once she’d told him, and now that he’s seen it from beginning to end, been part of it, he feels like he understands in a way he can’t quite put into words.
Then he remembers the night they’d swallowed the medicine they’d been given, a few days a hundred years ago at once, and it had left their legs too unsteady to carry them back to their beds. He had told her to rest against a wall, then positioned himself a little away from her, but close enough that no one would trouble her. To his knowledge, as he’d tried to stay awake as long as he could, no one had.
Maybe that was why she’d wanted him to come along: not just someone to keep her rage in hand, but someone she could trust to look out for her, after.]
Must have been hard, before that. To have it happen whether or not you wanted it, and the chance that someone like the people who had Judas might try to take you as a captive.
no subject
Somehow, Jon Snow managed to cut to the heart of her fears without her ever leading him there -- not just the fact that she could not control the transformations, but the knowledge of how much damage her powers could cause unchecked. How easily they could be used and manipulated by a malicious individual.
She'd never had such fears, raising her children. When they were young, she had fears of them being taken from her -- but she never doubted their loyalty. They could not be controlled or bidden to be unleashed on an unsuspecting population.
But the dragon she harbors within her now? That was a different story. And if she were under enough duress, there would be nothing she could do about it.]
No. I didn't. Most of the Displaced -- they do not know.
[She does not need to confirm the rest. Her silence says enough, and she knows it. Yes -- it had been very hard. It was still very hard. Enough things to trigger her anger, and she would grow scales.]
But I suspect many of them will now.
no subject
How many of them do you trust?
These people — [he means the ones who came on this journey] — I don’t know them. But they’ve done as well as I could have asked for. Doesn’t seem like that’s always the way of things here.
no subject
[The man who retrieved her from the simulation. It is the only name she provides him with -- because he is the only one that she trusts. He'd gone out of his way for her, and that was the sort of thing that it took to earn the trust of Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen.
Daenerys did not trust easily. But Jon had no doubt figured that out long before today.]
The Displaced can be selfless. But not all of them. The last time Cassius wanted something, he offered favors to those who helped him.
[So she is not feeling particularly charitable about those who had opted to come. And why should she? There were others who often made good on the business of collecting and paying debts that both she and Jon were intimately familiar with.
And one of them was sitting on the Iron Throne.]
It was a different time. But there is certainly precedent.
no subject
Do you know what he gave them?
He doesn’t seem to be in any position to offer anyone favors now.
no subject
[She curls up a little deeper under the jacket, shifting just enough to reach for the bag he's brought. A few of the scales hadn't quite receded back into her skin, where she'd been scratched hard enough to cut through the natural armor. There are not many such abrasions, but there is one clear one on her arm near her right wrist.
The clothes she pulls out are not particularly flashy or attractive -- but they will keep her comfortable and warm once she has the strength to dress herself.]
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