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Post by tsukikoko on Feb 27, 2020 7:59:30 GMT -6
Casmir’s words fell on deaf ears as the shifter in his arms continued to fight against him. Though she’d at least realised that Aaron wasn’t here, that he wasn’t a battered and bloodied husk cast against the ground, the knowledge didn’t detract any from her current predicament; trapped and at this man’s mercy. Why would she trust his instruction for her to be calm? It would only be so he could more easily capture her.
The pressure around her chest constricted tighter. Sara’s next breath was through a pained groan and gritted teeth. Ribs creaked, unable to expand and allow her lungs a full draw of oxygen. No, no please, she thought frantically, STOP IT!
With a strangled choke that might have been an attempt to scream, Sara’s struggles only escalated; her legs kicked out, she threw her head back in an attempt to hit him, creating a situation where the scarred man would be forced to carry her entire weight as she near leapt off the floor. A desperate attempt to make him stagger, force him to let her go, do something. But it was getting harder to breathe, each movement became progressively harder. Before long, he was going to completely subdue her.
He was going to take her.
When the shift came, Sara change was explosive, so rapid she didn’t have time to hold it back. Again the rippling of her flesh, the strange inconsistency, only this time present for hardly a second; the woman’s body shrank, fell away, and in less time than it took a man to blink, Casmir’s hands were abruptly filled with fur and a small, lithe, twisting body. A pair of shoes clattered to the floor - the only piece of Sara’s clothing that night which hadn’t been enchanted to deal with her shift. At almost the same moment, in the midst of her struggling, the glow band that had been her illusionary charm tore loose, skidding across the floor and leaving in its wake a ferret with a notably scaled and crocodilian tail that very much should not belong to it. His hold reflexively tightened upon the animal that had so abruptly appeared, squeezing hard enough that she shrieked in distress and near swivel within her own skin to face him. Courtesy of her new, flexible ferret spine, she rounded on him with vicious, needle-sharp teeth and scrabbling claws. There was little room for thought, no plan or tactics aside from attacking the source of her torment. The shifter tried to latch her jaws onto the man’s hand, his arm, any bit of bare skin she could find, or just his clothing if she couldn’t, shrieking and clearly panicking the whole while.
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Post by luscen on Mar 3, 2020 20:13:24 GMT -6
The redhead wasn't too interested in listening to Casmir, it seemed, struggling and kicking her legs at him and snapping her head back in an effort to headbutt him. Firmly resolved to not shoot her by accident, Casmir adjusted his grip on Sara while pulling the gun away from her back; lacking a free hand to decock the revolver, however, he pointed the barrel away from the two of them, keeping his finger off the trigger to avoid accidentally discharging it. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a stray bullet damaging an innocent girl that was apparently the victim of his paranoid imagination.
That didn't quite leave Sara out of the woods just yet, of course, though her labored gasps seemed to suggest she was running out of steam. The Hunter ignored the uncomfortable sense of shame he felt at having to resort to this tact, but given the state she was in, he couldn't rule out the redhead making a grab for his gun in an effort to use it against him. Really, this was for the best; he didn't even need her to pass out, in fact. Once she got a little more worn out, he'd place her down on the couch and take his leave to find some trace of the Skinwalker, and deter it from trying to lay hands on her. A simple task, really, all things considered. Then he could resume his hunt for Atol, but before all that she needed to stop bloody trying to kick him!
He was just about to demand she do so, when all of a sudden there was that strange rippling phenomenon again, followed by a surprised Hunter holding a very pissed-off ferret; apparently, Sara was a shapeshifter, albeit one that didn't seem able to complete her transformations, since her tail remained, sticking out like a sore thumb. That little detail was a bit lost on the Hunter, however, in light of more immediate concerns.
“What the hell-!?” Casmir yelped, overcompensating his grip. The rodent squawked in indignation and bit down on his arm, thankfully unable to break the skin due to the material his duster was made of. Ferrets were exceptionally good at getting out of tight spots however, including - unfortunately for Casmir - the grip of large Polish men.
Scrabbling out from under his forearm, Sara squeaked and pipped furiously, darting up the Hunter's chest to zip around his head, scratching and biting at his face like a whirling dervish of teeth, claws, and fur. “Oi, knock it off!” Casmir barked, weathering the blows and trying to bat the little rodent away. To say things were getting out of hand was a gross understatement.
The scarred man staggered backwards, desperately fending off the angry, spitting ferret, while still trying not to accidentally fire his gun. His free hand awkwardly grabbed for the ferret, though the Hunter was mindful of hurting her. He bumped against the door, however, which swung open easily under his weight; apparently, it needed to be locked in order to stay shut. Casmir fell to the floor, and Sara was free to flee into the crowd. A few nearby clubgoers gave him curious looks, but he managed to hide his weapon under his duster. “Sorry,” The Hunter grunted dismissively as he pushed himself up. “She, uh, she had a little too much to drink, yeah?”
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Post by tsukikoko on Mar 5, 2020 5:34:17 GMT -6
No sooner had Casmir fallen back against the door, opening a shining beacon of escape to the panicking shifter, than she bolted into the crowd, leaving the large man sprawled on his back. She couldn’t hear him thundering after her, nor were there any other operatives waiting outside to grab her, so at the threshold of the main crowd Sara risked a look over her shoulder, so that she at least knew where the danger still lay.
Her attacker was already pushing himself to his feet. With a frightened squeak, the ferret turned and continued running. She wanted to search for help, tell someone at the club. But what if their interference put her friends in Zramek’s firing line? What if she caused widespread panic and people were hurt? They had been bold to attack her, but the subterfuge, dragging her into a quiet, secluded space, implied they weren’t yet ready for any large scale operations. If she hid in here, was then found with members of staff trying to help her, what if the man started firing on people in his way to get at her? She wasn’t sure, didn’t know what to do other than escape and call someone - Aaron, the WDSA, anyone. But first she needed to get out.
But when she reached the main club space, loud dance music in full flow, everything was too loud, too bright and confusing for her animal senses. She risked being crushed underfoot by the large number of patrons. So, having scampered her way to the edge of the room, Sara forced herself back to human form, despite her hammering heart and the blood rushing in her ears making focus difficult. The shift had barely completed before she was pushing her way through the crowd, fixated upon the exit. But her progress was hampered, her ability to thread the throng of people failing her because she kept looking over her shoulder. More than once the redhead bounced off another patron, or had to come to an abrupt stop and change course when a dancing super moved across her pass. Everywhere she went she mumbled breathless apologies, trying not to scream at the crowd to just please get out of the way!
Finally, the emerged from the other side of the sea, slowing her pace only so she didn’t attract attention by appearing as frightened as she felt. She forced herself to walk, but walk quickly, running a quick hand through her hair just to occupy her hands. As she reached the threshold of the club, the shifter stole a longer glance over her shoulder, searching desperately for that scarred face to see how much distance she’d managed to create. But she didn’t stop moving, too afraid to pause and without looking where she was going, a collision was almost inevitable.
The body she collided with, a tall, slim figure that let out a soft ‘oomf’ from the force of her impact, threw out an instinctive arm to grab Sara as, with a startled cry, she staggered and nearly fell backwards. The masculine tone that greeted her, rather than annoyed, was full of nothing but concern for the distressed woman. “Woah there sugar, everything alright?” Still in the grips of panic, breath coming in rapid gasps, Sara babbled at the man she’d collided with, a mix of apologies and desperate attempts for him to get out of the way before he became embroiled in a situation where he might get hurt. “Sorry, sorry- I just, I ‘ave tah go, like, just- please, I’m in a ‘urry, just-” She glanced up, finally looking into the face of whomever had a light grip upon her arms. Greeting her, their piercing luminosity nothing short of predatory, were a pair of bright golden-brown eyes, not dissimilar to those found in a coyote. The man regarded her as an animal might; nose twitching, gaze fixated, hunger alight in his eyes. Yet Sara didn’t feel afraid. In fact, the longer she looked into those shining discs, the sleepier and more relaxed she felt. “Just, what, sugar?” She heard him drawl, watching as his lips moved but not really registering that voice and mouth were connected. Everything seemed so… floaty. Had she overheated in the club? “I- I divvint know, like…” “Ok. Ok that’s alright, you’re doing fine. Look at me. Breathe. Let’s just get some air, shall we gorgeous?” “Y-yeah…” the shifter stammered, unable to look away, finding she didn’t really want to. Wasn’t there something she had been afraid of? Something… important? She couldn’t remember. But what this man was saying seemed to make sense. She wanted to listen to him.
Sara allowed herself to be led outside by the gentle, but firm, pressure against her lower back. Her head angled up to continue watching as a wide, rictus grin split his face apart. She smiled back, soft and dream-like.
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Post by luscen on Mar 5, 2020 7:11:17 GMT -6
Casmir looked around for the errant ferret, finding it scurrying for the main dance floor. 'Dammit,' he growled, slowly standing up, but keeping his shoulders relaxed and his head low to avoid being singled out. If she made her way out the front door, there was no telling where the skinwalker would attempt to pick her up, and he did not have the time to waste playing “Detective Bodyguard” for her. He needed to keep the shifter from leaving the club, or else she was a dead woman.
The Hunter saw Sara change form again, ashen-faced and wild-eyed, but push her way into the crowd regardless, barefoot but likely hoping the dancing throngs would stymie him, were he truly the man she thought he was. Not exactly the worst tactic – and it showed she was thinking about her friends or coworkers in spite of her situation – but she slowed herself down by continually looking over her shoulder for him. Not wanting to scare her further, Casmir calmly and quietly made his way to the edge of the dance floor, keeping to the shadows and walking around the perimeter of the club to avoid catching her eye, rather than following her directly like some assassin out of a John Grisham novel.
Making sure not to lose sight of the red-haired woman, he took the opportunity to safely decock his revolver, keeping both hands discretely under his coat until the weapon was no longer a firing risk; he really didn't want to have to deal with some panicky patrons due to a firearm mishap, after all. One misunderstanding this evening was enough as it was. The weapon safely disarmed, he stowed it back into its holster, now keeping his attention split between the shifter and the exit, just in case the skinwalker had the same idea of grabbing her before she could make her escape.
It turned out his opponent was a step ahead of him, however: nearly towards the exit, the blonde stopped with a muttered curse as Sara bumped into the coyote-esque man- there he was, all smiles and hungry eyes under a mop of reddish-brown hair, grabbing her by the arms. Despite the unsettling look in his gaze, however, the skinwalker managed to keep his carnal disposition to a minimum, which kept the other patrons from growing suspicious. So when the redhead made eye contact – calming down to an almost eerie degree, as a result – no one but the Hunter took notice of it. Indeed, Casmir wasn't surprised in the slightest by the strange shift in her behavior; skinwalkers used navajo magic, and shapeshifting was only one of their abilities, another being the power to mentally dominate people they made eye contact with. And unlike the scarred Hunter, Sara didn't have the same kind of ocular protection courtesy of a mystic relic.
Casmir acted quickly; rather than push a confrontation, he instead silently ghosted backwards into the shadows, sitting down so as to stay beneath the Skinwalker's radar but never letting his gaze leave the pair. The tanned-skin changeling led Sara out the exit, keeping one sinewy arm wrapped firmly around her lower back, while his glinting, golden eyes remained locked on her emerald ones, maintaining the enthrallment. Once they were around the corner, the Hunter quickly pushed himself away from his chair, darting after the two and keeping close to the shadows and corners; the Skinwalker's focus needed to stay fixed on the red-haired shifter, but there was no guarantee he wouldn't drop the bewitchment if he realized Casmir was following them.
The two casually left the club, strolling around the side of the building towards the delivery entrance, the Skinwalker's jean-clad legs carrying him in a long stride Sara barely kept up with. Casmir stopped just around the corner, pulling a small mirror out of his pocket and holding it out into the alley to keep tabs on them; something told him that there was more involved in this than just the one predatory Super, and he didn't intend to be caught off-guard again.
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Post by tsukikoko on Mar 5, 2020 10:15:16 GMT -6
Casmir was right to be suspicious, for as soon as Sara and her enthralling companion were out of sight of the main street, obscured by industrial rubbish bins and pallets from old deliveries, two more figures emerged from a nearby doorway and approached.
The larger, creaking with each heavy step, looked vaguely like a rock elemental, or a golem. Cracked, sandy-coloured rock made up the main body of the creature, but haphazard, modern metal materials had been attached to itself in areas that looked scarred - damaged in some previous incident or another. The smaller, riding atop the shoulders of the larger, leapt down upon reaching Sara and the skinwalker, a long, whip-like tail flicking behind it. The creature displayed freakish blends of human and rat traits; bipedal, with a rat-like head and claws extending from the tips of four fingers and a thumb on each hand. Completely naked save for a patchwork of scrappy fur that gave the distinct appearance of mange, it stood about as tall as the average man, but hunched over as it twitched and nibbled its own arms to groom itself.
The creature’s long nose sniffed at the air. It sneezed, twitched its whiskers and turned its attention of two completely silver eyes to the end of the alley where Casmir hid around the corner, but was apparently satisfied when it saw nothing there. “Took your sweet ass time,” the rat hissed, “haven’t done anything to her have you?” “No, I’ve been good, much as that beautiful, soft skin would look so much better peeled off her body… but she got sidetracked by a man an-” “Did you take care of him?” The rat interrupted, his voice just as hyper and jumpy as his movements. But if the interjection bothered the skinwalker, it didn’t distract him from maintaining Sara’s attention. He continued to hold her gaze, one hand brushing strands of her hair behind her ear. “Unfortunately not, he took care of himself, ran the little lady straight into my arms…” Both hands came to cup the shifter’s face, she exhaled a gentle sigh, ignorant to what was being discussed in the midst of her blissful, mental relaxation. The skinwalker continued to converse with his compatriot, while the golem remained still and quiet. “Such a shame, I was hoping for some fun this evening. Must have gotten too friendly with her, but I don’t see any bruises, so I don’t think he hit her.” Sara’s thoughts were getting foggier, but this man’s hands felt so warm on her face, so pleasant. She just wanted to fall into his arms and be held, but to do so would mean looking away from his beautiful eyes and she just couldn’t do that.
Instead, her fingers gently gripped at his forearms, the tip of her tail curling around his leg. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look away. Instead, the toothed smile grew wider. “That’s right gorgeous, just relax… feels nice right?” As she nodded and he swept a thumb gently across her lips, the skinwalker mused, “Mmm… I could just take a little from you... Maybe from a thigh, or a-” “You fuckin’ crazy?!” The rat screeched, tail lashing and sharp, rodent teeth on display. “You wanna find out what John will do to us if he notices?! Now hurry up and finish up your damn hypno-bullshit, we got places to be!”
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Post by luscen on Mar 22, 2020 19:11:06 GMT -6
At first glance, Casmir thought he was seeing a very unkempt yskoi when the rat jumped down from the shoulder of his battle-scarred construct companion. The sight had given the Hunter pause; he had had dealings with the Ratmen before. They were something of scavengers and merchants, and always had a good ear for valuable information, so long as you had something of value to give in exchange. And unlike the common perception of rodents or vermin, they tended to take pride in their appearance- he'd never met one with so much as a hair or thread of cloth out of place. So to see one so utterly repulsive was a bit of a shock.
That was, until Casmir decided to carefully chance a look out into the alley with his own eyes. Peeking just around the corner, the Hunter looked at the ratman with his red eye as it gnawed its arm, expression darkening as he beheld a putrid greenish black miasma hanging around the creature's body. He'd seen that particular kind of foul air before; this wasn't just some scruffy-looking rat merchant outcast, it was a Beshilu. A plague spirit that existed to spread disease and pestilence by way of breaking down the borders between the human and spirit world, and seemed to have a strong affinity with rodents. Very unpleasant creatures to have to deal with, overall.
The rat's head turned towards the alley and Casmir ducked back behind the corner, bracing himself just in case he was seen. There was no scrabbling of claws or lumbering of stone, however, so the Hunter relaxed and slipped his mirror back out into the alley to see what was happening- this development was becoming more complicated by the moment, and he needed more information before he made a move. He'd never seen such an odd trio of characters, and felt like there was more going on here than what was happening on the surface. Was the Skinwalker working for the Beshilu? Why the golem, then? Nothing seemed to add up.
Unfortunately, the angle and distance didn't lend itself well to reading lips, and they were speaking too quietly for Casmir to hear. There was a moment where the vermin grew agitated, snapping and twitching its tail, but the Hunter found himself more preoccupied with the way the Skinwalker kept running his hand through Sara's hair. Casmir had dealt with enough of the coyote's kind to imagine what the changeling wanted to do to Sara, and the thought shot an irrational lance of anger through him, fist clenching reflexively.
'Not yet,' he reprimanded himself. He needed to stay focused, otherwise this would end with one or both of them dead.
His attention instead turned to Sara when he saw her move. The redhead's arms came up to touch the Skinwalker's, her now-visible tail wrapping around the copper-skinned coyote's leg in order to draw him closer. At first, Casmir thought she was being manipulated by the Skinwalker's magic, but a cursory glance at the changeling showed he too was taken aback by her need to touch him. The Hunter frowned, thinking about her words earlier in the private dance room... About how she didn't want to go back to “him.” The shifter apparently had had a traumatic history, and must have sought out the comfort of others to find some measure of stability and pacification... Given her stress level at the moment, her body was no doubt following its base comfort-seeking instincts, even in the midst of her enthrallment. That it should be the Skinwalker she sought out was almost a sick joke, one that Casmir found himself unable to find the humor in.
The Rat grew agitated again, this time bearing teeth and yelling something. Casmir couldn't make out much, but the name “John” managed to reach his ears. Clearly, the vermin was concerned about rousing this "John's" ire...
'So, they're just deliverymen...' he mused, wondering if this “John” were the person Sara had been referring to, earlier. The head of a mafia, perhaps? A corrupt politician or official? He couldn't be sure, except that "John" was clearly not someone to be trifled with lightly... Either way, the coyote waved off his companion's concerns, then placed his hands on the redhead's cheeks. After a moment, she nodded, then wrapped her arms around his. The Skinwalker patted her hand, then broke eye contact, indicating that he had put Sara under a stronger enchantment to make her more complacent. The rat twitched its nose and lashed its tail, then climbed back up onto the golem's shoulder - no doubt grumbling the whole way - and the trio took off, their captive in tow.
Casmir slowly returned the mirror to his pocket, lowering his head. His thoughts were a tempest, raging around his in head like a pair of angry dogs snapping at one another, as his jaw clenched. While he didn't know all the facts, he knew Sara was in mortal peril. 'I don't have time to play bodyguard!' And yet, if he didn't follow them, Sara was going to die. 'And if I don't find Atol, then there'll be more deaths than just hers...' he argued back, clenching his fist in frustration.
Sara's terrified expression came back to him. That white-faced horror, the pleas, the sheer mental exhaustion of someone who'd been relentlessly stalked and hunted and didn't know why... his mind flashed back to how easily she got along with the crew at the bar, the way the crowd cheered for her as she performed, the ease with which she had struck up a conversation with him and offered to help him despite never having met him before...
'You can't save everyone,' the Hunter growled to himself. 'You're just going to get your ass killed if you try.' Casmir took a mental step back and examined the situation: there were three powerful Supers between her and him. Taking the risk to save her would likely get her killed regardless of what he tried; on top of that, he had almost gotten done in by that group of Supers earlier, and then almost got arrested by a cop and his damned super-soldier probie. He had to draw the line, somewhere- if he didn't, Atol would find his godling, and then everyone would be screwed. Casmir was the only one in the city who knew what was at stake... He had to stop being so damned reckless. The risk simply wasn't worth it.
It wasn't.
So when the Hunter shoved his hands into his pockets and took his first step, he did everything he could to ignore the overwhelming sense of loathing churning in his stomach.
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Post by tsukikoko on Mar 25, 2020 8:41:39 GMT -6
The ground underfoot was cold and hard, a little painful. She’d lost her shoes somewhere, but she didn’t know where. That was okay though, she was walking beside the most important person in the world, a man who bathed her world in a pleasant, dreamy haze and made her heart sing.
But then… a softness beneath her feet. Many tiny particles, like a running river that followed only her, caught each step before she could touch the ground. With his fingers playing with her hair and his arm rested lightly upon her shoulder, Sara felt connected enough to look away, down towards her own feet. Sand pooled beneath her bare feet, moving to follow each step she took, attached by a thin tether to the large golem lumbering alongside. The sand was warm, as though sunkissed upon a beach. Sara smiled, “Eee, thank ya luv! Daft o’ me, forgettin’ me shoes, like.” The golem moaned gently, its body shuddering in a movement that held a pleased and slightly sheepish air. What a sweet’eart, Sara thought to herself.
The rat and skinwalker, meanwhile, both looked down at their crocodile-tailed captive in confusion, before the puzzle pieces of the situation fell into place. “You let her come out here without shoes?!” Again that high-pitched shriek, though this time the rat spoke in more of a stage whisper, as they approached a more heavily populated street. “If her feet get torn up, that counts as bodily harm, she’s meant to be pristine.” The skinwalker rolled his eyes at the rodent’s outburst, but did deign to take a glance downwards, searching for any sign of blood or other damage to Sara’s feet. “Well luckily for us your abused ‘son’ has taken care of things in, I imagine, another desperate bid for your approval, so no harm done.” A false, too-friendly smile peeled onto the coyote’s features, as he turned his head up towards his rodent compatriot and spoke only softly enough for the creature’s large, sensitive ears. “Now perhaps we can keep our voices down, hmm? I’m sure John would love if we were discovered while his little prize was in our grasp.” The rat narrowed its eyes, lips twitching as though it wished to peel them back in a hissing snarl, before turning its head away with an irritated ‘hmmph!’
Again the skinwalker’s smile widened, as the hand upon Sara’s waist began to idly stroke the skin of her hip, around to the small of her back - soft swirls and lines that traced musculature and attachment points with uncanny precision. The shifter hummed appreciatively, aware only of how much she liked the man’s touch.
The group continued on their way in silence after that, moving through a populated street and then off the beaten track via side streets. Despite their series of odd appearances, given the vast amounts of supers in the Underground, of all shapes, sizes and creeds, the group drew no real attention throughout their journey. Their route took Sara towards run-down, abandoned areas of the Underground - due for renovation but not yet being worked upon. The numbers of passers-by dwindled, before eventually ceasing altogether, at which point the rat bounded its way down the golem’s arm to sniff around on the floor. Brows furrowed in concentration, it sought out a particular vulpine scent, both physical and spiritual in nature, that would mark the correct building. It scurried through the street, ears twitching left and right as it listened out for any who might interrupt, the rodent nevertheless rushed its task and didn’t perhaps check around as well as it should have done.
“Come on, through here.” It finally hissed, nose crinkled as if whatever it had smelled was rather repulsive. Which, given the scent was canine in nature, was very much the case. Dextrous, clawed fingers unlatched a door to what may once have been a storehouse, the entrance big enough for even the golem. Sara simply continued to smile, though a little nagging thought in the back of her head did wonder where she might be and why she might be here.
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Post by luscen on Apr 3, 2020 16:50:07 GMT -6
As the odd little trio bundled into the building, there was a brief moment of stillness that lingered in the air. The empty buildings and deserted streets painted a picture of clandestine meetings and inherent danger, the exact type of place one wouldn't want to find themselves in if they weren't looking for trouble. All things considered, it was the last place someone like the red-haired songbird should ever find herself, especially in such questionable company.
That's what Casmir found himself thinking as he quietly strode up to the side of the building that they had just gone into. That and his own frustration at being unable to help himself and leave well enough alone; he had more important business to be on about than saving one woman who was currently in the custody of three powerful and dangerous Supers. By the time he finished this business – assuming Sara managed to live through it and this wasn't all for nothing – Atol may have already found and killed his Storm Dragon, leaving the Hunter in the proverbial dust again.
What was he even doing here?
'Fixing a mistake,' came the resolved thought in reply. The only reason Sara was even in this mess to begin with was because Casmir's paranoia had pushed her right into the Skinwalker's clutches. That had been his fault, not hers or the coyote's. So he owed it to her to try and keep that from being a fatal mistake, if nothing else.
Tracking the lot of them had been easy enough; the golem apparently had sprung a bit of a leak, leaving traces of sand that had served as an easy trail, wending its way through the Underground's backstreets here to this abandoned Repository. The Hunter, unable as he was to ignore his more rational instincts, had been grateful for the stroke of luck, as it meant he didn't need to waste more time looking for more nuanced traces of the group's route. That just left the matter of getting into the building without arousing any undue suspicion.
The blonde's eyes narrowed, focusing on the handle of the storehouse entrance: It was a roller shutter type, with a door motif in the center for ease of access. The storehouse itself was of a decent size, sturdy, with what looked like two floors; likely one where offices and records were kept, while the larger downstairs area was where the product – when this place had still served its function – likely would have been stocked. Given how little weathering showed on the exterior, it was probably sound and weather proofed, properly insulated and made to last, in order to better preserved its wares.
In other words, the perfect place to meet with someone in private. Which likely meant wards.
Casmir withdrew a scroll from his coat, unfurling it and placed it on the door. The complex runic array inscribed on the surface of the parchment glowed a pale blue color, and the magic contained within the scroll billowed outward, rippling over the length of the building, detecting and disabling the inherent wards for a brief moment. This anti-trap method was somewhat risky, as it meant that any defenses that had been placed within a specific location wouldn't remain neutralized, but simply shut off for a brief moment and turn back on. Nonetheless, it was useful for slipping past wards unnoticed; if the caster was present and had any kind of alarms, this would simply make it seem as though the barriers had shuddered, not been broken or disabled, which was a dead giveaway that someone was currently poking their nose in where it didn't belong. And given the situation, Casmir didn't want Sara's captors to panic and rush her off somewhere else because they had unexpected company. He was taking too much time with this, as it was, so better to get in and out with minimal fuss.
The magic's job finished, the Hunter tested the door, finding it opened for him easily enough. He quietly slipped inside, alert and on-guard for whatever might be waiting on the other side. After all, wards were just the first hurdle he had to get through; he still had a golem, a plague rat, and a psychotic shape-changer he had to deal with. Not to mention whoever hired them, should he be present. Still, as Roland had told him “Plan for the worst, then expect it to go downhill anyway. Then you'll never be caught off-guard.” As things stood, Casmir was pretty sure things couldn't get much worse, but he'd been surprised before.
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Post by tsukikoko on Apr 8, 2020 10:47:16 GMT -6
Upon slipping through the door, Casmir was greeted by a large, empty space. Devoid of any machinery or old items that may have given a clue as to exactly what the storehouse had originally held, now it stood as a skeleton of metal support struts and concrete columns. Windows above, caked in grime, would have barely allowed sunlight through at the best of times; now, with sunset having long passed and only sparse artificial lights to brighten this section of the Underground, most of the building's innards were cloaked in a pervasive darkness.
Long shadows stretched, their depths seeming to bend and twist in a manner akin to movement in the peripherals, as though to deliberately trick one's mind. The silence was deafening. Thick, brick walls soundly muffled any ambient noise that might have filtered in from the outside world.
Or from within the building itself.
A predatory sense of watchfulness settled over the Hunter's skin, enough to make hairs stand on end. Though nothing emerged from the shadows, no sharp blade or claws pierced his flesh. The seconds ticked by and still, there was only quiet stillness, the looming dark. Everything stood, frozen in time, even the dust motes seemed to stagnate in their floating path, as though the very storehouse were holding its breath, waiting for Casmir to make a move.
Until suddenly, a shriek of wood dragging across hard floor - from a door not correctly fitting in its frame - tore through the bubble of quiet, shattering the illusion. A flash of stark, clinical light, like one might find on a mobile phone, was visible at the far end of the building. But it was the voice that followed, a familiar rodent screech, that most jarringly echoed through the darkened space. "Would you get out of here already?! Go find some scrap metal for yourself or whatever it is you do!" Another scraping complaint from the door, followed by a slam as the white light winked out.
Again Casmir was left in near pitch black. Only now, there was a low, inhuman moan. Melancholy. Pained. Then the thump of something large and heavy moving through the space in front of him.
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Post by luscen on Apr 20, 2020 17:05:32 GMT -6
As the scrape of a door ripped through the darkness, Casmir's hand darted for the gun holstered just above his breast. The Hunter's eyes swung in the direction of the sound, the jarring light of the room standing out amid the darkness of the warehouse like a sunspot. He could hear the rat's screeching from the far end of the warehouse, giving him a destination- Sara was there, no doubt, and in the worst company imaginable. All Casmir had to do was make it across the length of the repository, slip into the room, and extract her.
The only problem being that between the Hunter and his target was a 2000 lb golem.
The door slammed shut with a harsh k'chunk! and Casmir's vision diminished again, the low lighting in the warehouse making it exceptionally hard for him to see without the aid of some form of night vision. Fortunately, thanks to the construct's low, keening whine and the sound of stone scraping against itself as it turned away from the door, he had a good means of tracking the thing's movements. And lucky for him, stone golems didn't tend to have exceptionally good eyesight, either. Their hearing, on the other hand, was superb, and they had a better range than most humans did. Thus, seeing as he wasn't too eager to get into a scuffle with the earthen sentry, the Hunter controlled his breathing and quietly slid backwards into the shadows, moving as quickly as he dared while still refraining from making a sound.
As his vision adjusted to the darkness, Casmir took in the thing's appearance: what few details he could make out in the shoddy light of the warehouse showed him a rather pathetic figure that had been sloppily patched together in whatever ways would keep it functional. Clearly, the thing's creator wasn't too concerned with it, and the lack of care showed in its body language- the golem's stooped posture and lethargic movements evoking a sense of pity in the blonde. And while he didn't want to contend with it out of a desire to minimize risks, he couldn't deny that there was now a sense of empathy for the construct's sad state lending itself to his decision, as well.
'Well, if things go well, hopefully that won't be an issue,' he thought, reaching the door. Likely, the golem's attention would be diverted by the sound of it opening, but if he were quick enough then it wouldn't see him, and assume the rat had just popped its head out to make sure that it was still doing its job. Casmir slowly and quietly grasped the handle of the door, taking a quiet breath to ready himself to dart inside before the construct could turn. He shifted his weight...
And stepped right onto a small pile of sand that sat in front of the door, the quiet sound of his boot heel scraping across the grainy surface deafening in the vacuum of the warehouse.
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Post by tsukikoko on Apr 21, 2020 15:00:21 GMT -6
In the wake of that granular scraping came an oppressive, looming silence. The shadows around Casmir seemed to swell and surge, rushing like flood water towards the source of the disturbance as though alive. Though his vision had earlier adjusted, allowing him to see at least the outline of his potential enemy, now the Hunter had been plunged into a blackness so deep not even that was available to him.
He could, however, still hear it.
A low groan, lilting upwards in tone at the tail end. A question.
Perhaps more pressing, however, was the skittering movement in the blonde's peripheral. It held no sound, no claws or huffing breath, but the sudden motion held the vague, basally instinctive sense of something predatory. Should he turn his head there would be nothing to see, perhaps from the darkness too thick to penetrate. But then, again, further movement, darting towards the man when it seemed his attention wasn't upon it. A slender, humanoid shape loomed too; the kind one might see while in the grips of sleep paralysis, lurking but never coalescing into anything concrete, so that one could never be sure whether it was real, or simply the mind creating a familiar, albeit malicious, shape out of the shadows.
All of it, always on the left side.
A single, lumbering step echoed through the storehouse, but no charging pace followed. Instead, the sand at Casmir's boot began to shift of it's own accord. Growing in size from a rivulet originating from the gloom. Reaching for him. The movement probing and testing in nature. The golem didn't yet know who the man was, or what, and in the absence of an alarm from the front door, which was rigged to trigger its violent guarding protocol, the creature was curious more so than aggressive. At least for the moment.
Yet, no-one came to the door, nor were there any sounds of alarm from within the room Casmir stood beside. Those inside may not have noticed, or perhaps trusted in their golem to handle the issue. Either way, for now, the Hunter only had the construct and whoever, or whatever, lurked in the darkness to deal with...
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Post by luscen on May 2, 2020 7:27:55 GMT -6
Casmir tensed as the noise of the sand shifting under his weight alerted the golem to his presence. He gripped the door handle, waiting for the sentry to commence its attack, but the assault came instead from an unexpected source: the darkness within the warehouse seemed to take on a mind of its own, rushing across the floor and converging on his location. The Hunter's frame went rigid; he tilted his head back, sucking his breath in through his nose, as though he was diving into a body of water. And given the preternatural chill that enveloped him in a pitch so complete he couldn't even see the looming shape of the construct anymore, it wasn't exactly a bad comparison to make. He was isolated, now. Blinded, with only the sounds of the golem giving him any clue as to his opponent's location.
'A Cimmerian Snare...' Casmir observed, once the darkness had finished settling around him. It was a rather nasty curse that caused the shadows in the vicinity to cling unerringly to a specific target, in this case any intruder that had been unfortunate enough to stumble into the repository. He had wondered why some of the more transient Supers didn't hang around this area- now he had his answer. This darkness was so overwhelming that he doubted even natural night-stalkers would want to linger in it overly long. Likely anyone that had wandered in here looking for a place to get some rest or hide likely fell prey to it. And given the guard dog on duty, the moment they started panicking would be the moment the golem would rush them and attack. Rudimentary though they were, they didn't hesitate when given orders; if someone was here that wasn't supposed to be, then they were an enemy as far as it was concerned.
Casmir was snapped out of his deliberations by a sudden movement in his peripheral vision. A figure off to his left! He turned, mindful of shifting his boots along the stone floor, only to find nothing there. Was there something or someone else here? No, that couldn't be right... The nature of the trap made it impossible to see anything, so if there were, he'd never have seen them, peripherally or not. Yet... he was sure there had been... something there. Just as Casmir was about to dismiss it as a trick of his mind, he spied something dart past his left shoulder, again out of the corner of his eye- grasping claws, this time, and an unfurling tail. He snapped his head around again, his eyes darting back and forth across the pitch black expanse. He licked his lips, suddenly feeling a sense of paranoia creeping up on him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something was in here with him, he was sure of it now. A creature that was native to the shadows. A wechuge? Psoglavi? It could have been anything, but until he could see the bloody thing, all he could do was guess!
The Hunter was so caught up in trying to track down the unknown threat lurking in the darkness, however, that he didn't notice at first when the golem took a step, moving closer to him. A questioning groan, the scraping sound of stone against stone, and then the quiet hiss of sand crawling its way slowly up his boot, almost like a constrictor vine. Probing, hunting, looking for something. Likely a weapon, something that would denote Casmir as a threat. The Hunter chanced a brief look down, though it didn't do him any good as the gloom was so pervasive that he couldn't even see himself in it. He needed to act now, though, before the golem could determine his nature, which wouldn't take very long once the sand reached his hips and could make out the shape of a gun. Regardless of its intelligence, Casmir didn't want to bet that the thing couldn't recognize conventional weaponry when it “saw” it.
Before he could properly order his thoughts, another phantom lurking in the darkness appeared to him, this time just over his shoulder. He had the impression of gaping jaws, and rows of teeth, a predator looking to bite down on him while he was unaware. The Hunter couldn't stop his reflexes from going off, a hand closing over one of his throwing daggers. He twisted at the waist, hurling it behind him, where it shot through the now-empty air and clattered against the side of the wall, the din ringing out through the empty warehouse.
The Hunter cursed, unsure now where the golem was- in the utter darkness that surrounded him, all of his jerking around to try and find the phantom threat in here with him had left him disoriented- he'd let go of the door handle, and without a means to navigate, the golem could have been in front of him or behind, and he was on the back foot, having just made a blunder. Hopefully, it would wind up serving in Casmir's favor, and divert the golem's attention away from him. Somehow, though, the scarred man felt that it wouldn't play out that way- he wasn't known for his good luck, sadly.
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Post by tsukikoko on May 13, 2020 4:39:48 GMT -6
As soon as the metal strike of blade met wall, the inquisitive sand retreated from Casmir's leg and shot off into the darkness, a far more focused and alert movement than previously. An echoing, warning groan filled the enclosed darkness, bouncing off walls hidden in the gloom until it seemed to be everywhere at once. Another couple of lumbering steps. The creeping, stalking shape of a large predator still circling the Hunter's left peripheral. The rough scrape of metal along the floor, originating in the dagger's direction. A shrieking cry of colliding rocks and sheering metal as the golem discovered what the object had been.
A wall of swirling sand erupted between Casmir and the clattering sound of his own dagger, bristling and impenetrable. Whether the golem had decided to defend it's new-found interest from the potential threat, or the Hunter just so happened to be placed beside the door that was ultimately the creature's defensive focus, was a question currently impossible to answer.
Within the room, Sara's head lolled in the direction of the door, her brow creasing with parental concern. The cry had sounded like that of a child, to her; both angry and afraid in equal measure. She wanted to check on the golem, but her limbs felt so heavy... why was she so tired? With a soft groan, she tried to push herself off the plush sofa she'd been lain upon - an oddly expensive and clean piece of furniture in an otherwise abandoned, ramshackle room - but a gentle hand on her head, fingers through her hair, settled her back down. That voice, his voice settled her nerves in an instant. "Don't you worry gorgeous, just rest, I'll check it out in a minute." The shifter smiled, thinking to herself how sweet he was to check on the golem for her, while she continued to rest her weary body. She still didn't remember why she was so tired, but perhaps it was later than she realised? Her eyes drifted shut, but even in her drowsy state she could make out the rushed tones of their rodent companion. "Nothing, it was nothing John, we- yes, yes we have it handled. Yes.. I understand what will happen. I know this meeting is important, yes- yes I promise she's- yes John." Sara cracked open one eye, making out the blurred, ashen-faced expression of the rat-creature. She'd have to ask if everything was alright, once he was off the phone. For Casmir, the wall of sand had most certainly not dispersed yet, nor had the shapes continuing to hound him from the darkness. A new, rather unnerving development, was the lurching steps now headed towards him, at speed. The next shape to lunge at him out of the blackness was no phantom, but a large, rocky hand, trying to grab him around the midriff.
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Post by luscen on May 14, 2020 6:31:09 GMT -6
The Hunter would have been thankful for the abrupt withdraw of the sand from his body, as he had been carefully trying to avoid letting it touch any of his stowed weapons- he had a feeling that the moment the golem could tell he was armed, he'd find himself in the presence of a very pissed-off bouncer. That would have been an issue in itself, but in this stubborn darkness he didn't really like his chances against the construct and it's superior sensory abilities.
'I need to figure out how to get rid of this- Shit!' Casmir's thought was cut off as he jerked his head around, a pair of familiar golden eyes glinting off to his left; when he looked, however, there was nothing there. Then the wall of sand sprung up in front of him, causing him to give out a violent polish curse as he backed away from it, hand flinching towards his revolver.
'I've got to put a stop to this,' came the desperate thought, fueled by ragged breaths and tensed shoulders. His mind was at odds with his hunter's instincts- he knew this was a trick, as if there was something truly dangerous in here, then it would have attacked him by now. But whatever was harassing the Hunter was able to agitate his fight-or-flight response, making him more and more unsettled and restless.
'Calm down,' he ordered, though it was doing little good, given how much his hands were trembling. He could still sense the fanged and clawed threats circling him in the darkness, feel the weight of a knife bearing down on the left side of his neck. And then there was the stony scraping of the golem lumbering towards him; assuming he could evade the construct, it was only a matter of time before the rat poked his head out the door to see what was going on, and trying to deal with both of them as well as his own treacherous instincts would be a losing game.
'What's the pattern?' he pleaded, his eyes darting around in the darkness. There had to be one, but what!? It was never the same creature: sometimes he thought he saw a wolf or a panther, or some other horrible, stalking creature. Other times he could swear it was a man-shaped figure with a gun or knife. And whatever it was, it kept showing up somewhere off to his left-
Somewhere off to his left.
His left! Of course!
Casmir closed his left eye, and forced himself to look properly through only his enchanted right eye. Sure enough, the phantoms were now no longer present; they had been an illusion, but by who or what was the question. Whatever was in here with him was still hiding in the darkness, he knew that much, but he couldn't see them. Still, at least this was something, even if it cut off half his field of view.
Thankfully, he heard the golem's movement off to his right before he saw it. The stone limb shot out of the darkness, grabbing for him. In his stress-elevated stated, however, he wrapped a hand around one of the grenades hanging from his belt, backstepping and raising his arm to throw it before his brain screamed at him "STOP!" Attacking the golem would ensure that it viewed him as a threat, plus the noise would definitely attract the attention of one of the other two inside- likely the Beshilu, as the Skinwalker would need to maintain eye contact with Sara in order to keep her pacified.
He couldn't let it come to that, yet.
'Or could I?' Casmir thought suddenly as he gazed at the golem's grasping hand. 'Maybe that's exactly what I want, right now...'
Now that he didn't have to deal with those beastly apparitions, his thoughts were more clear; he still had some flashbangs on hand, which would light up the area, but it'd be too harsh and too brief for him to see anything that might tell him where his unseen foe was hiding. No... to break the trap, what he needed was a few moments of uninterrupted light, soft enough to let him see properly- to see where this bothersome third wheel was hiding. And the only way to get that was to make sure the anxious rat poked his head out to yell at his hired muscle for causing a ruckus.
“Sorry big guy,” Casmir muttered under his breath. He lobbed the grenade at the construct's grasping stone limb. It connected with a blast of heat followed by a rumble that shook the area around them, making the windows shudder with the force of the vibration.
'Hopefully that did the trick!'
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Post by tsukikoko on May 15, 2020 6:41:31 GMT -6
Casmir's panted breaths and growing tension made the darkness around him quiver with a delighted anticipation, as though it were a living, breathing entity in and of itself. His reaction to the golem only exacerbated that
After the booming explosion and the brief period of deafening, ear-damaged silence that followed, came a groan of confusion. Of hurt. Shards of rock scattered across the ground, sand poured across the ground as though the golem were bleeding. It staggered away from Casmir, groaned at him as though questioning what had happened. Tried to flex stone fingers that no longer existed. The next bellow came louder, angrier, an accusation and further questions; Why? Why had he hurt it?
Sara shot upright after the explosive sound, clarity returning with a jarring lurch inside her own head. She blinked, scrambling to move even before her situation had fully registered; she didn't recognise this place, these people, something was seriously wrong. Their conversations began to filter though her head, fogged though her memory had been now it began to sharpen into focus. She needed to get out.
A flurry of movement erupted alongside her and a grip of iron grabbed her arm, yanking her backwards with enough force that her next breath hitched in her lungs as a broken, yelping scream. She turned towards her assailant, furious and desperate. "Git off me ya wanker!" She managed to say, even as a second grip snatched hold of her face. She was being forced down, onto her back. Further movement at her side, from the rat. A shift rippled across her flesh, even as two orbs of vibrant colour swam in front of her vision, coalescing as the skinwalker's eyes. Then, it was too late. Her body froze, even as her mind tried to hang on. But she was being dragged under, pulled back to that realm of soft reassurances and dream-like bliss.
"Don't." The skinwalker hissed suddenly, voice a low, threatening warning sharp as any knife. A scaled, whip-like tail stopped mere inches from Sara's neck, stopped in it's tracks by the sheer menace in the skinwalker's tone. The man had very quickly, very effectively, pinned her down on the sofa, his eyes locking on to her own and scattering the thoughts from her head. Her shift settled down to nothing, as the dregs of her resistance floated away like petals on the breeze. The sudden sound had distracted him, allowed the control he had over her to snap. He wouldn't allow that again. "You always get it wrong," he continued, as said tail slapped against the floor and slithered back behind the scowling Beshilu. "Crush their oesophagus or not let go quick enough, we can't risk that, can we now?" He smiled at the shifter and she smiled back, completely ignorant to the severity of their conversations once again. "So how about you see what happened out there, while I get her back under properly, hmm?" With a squeaking snap of indignation, it almost looked as though the rat would argue the toss, but with his recent conversation with John still bouncing around his ears, the creature thought better of it. If there was an intruder, one that had gotten past the rites on the buildings shell, they needed to be dealt with. Quickly.
The Beshilu didn't run to the door so much as scamper, its odd blend of human and rat traversing across the ground sometimes on two legs, sometimes on four. When it threw the door open the rodent was already shouting, its screeching voice piercing the darkness almost as well as the light from the phone it carried. "The hell is going on out her-!" The pervasive darkness reeled back from the new source of light as though burned, retreating into the corners of the building as a hunching, irritated animal might. The golem, which had been mid-swing with its remaining fist, aiming to crush Casmir beneath it, suddenly about-faced towards the Beshilu, groaning with relief and a warning. The rat, which was now close enough that its rapid, frantically irritated movements had led it to nearly collide with the Hunter, leapt backwards with a hissing caterwaul. "THE FUCK'RE YOU?!" Then, directed at the golem, "CRUSH HIM!"
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