Log:The Jersey Devil
| The Jersey Devil | |
|---|---|
It's already dead! | |
| Participants | 2017.10.05 A group goes out to investigate sightings of the Jersey Devil? |
| Location
The East Bank | |
| Why is everything happening out on the East bank? And why do people keep going to check it out?! No one will ever know. Recently the Davidson Brothers, two local boys that hunt cryptids swear that they saw the Jersey Devil. But this isn't Jersey and the Devil isn't real. Or well. It's not supposed to be. Well, Etsy likes to be near water, so, that's basically why she's ever anywhere near anything called a 'bank,' unless it's 'to take Reggie's money and go spend it on shiny things.' The little mermaid goes wandering up the East bank, her hedgebeast wrapped loosely around her shoulders like a stole; her footprints are not, even in wet earth. Sea salt scatters on the ground behind her, feet light on the earth, and she looks easy and graceful, her dress long and empire-waisted, a soft, light blue cotton. Being one of the Lefevre family, the East Bank is where Avalon belongs the most. Maybe this is why she keeps on getting seen walking home, soaked to the bone, at odd hours. She's dressed in a pair of black cargo pants, and a light hoodie of the same with the phases of the moon along the arms. She knows the Davidson Brothers, at least in passing, and when she heard what they had to say? Of course she came down here, to investigate. She's even got a flashlight, solid and metal, in her left hand. The Shyest Ogre in Vermont might actually have no reason to be out and about by a river bank in Autumn. You're welcome to think that if you like, but Allen is busy looking at the ground, occasionally picking up a flat stone or smoothed-over rock. He's... intent on something, but who knows what. At least he's out of those leathers; he's apparently been thrifting for big and tall clothing and happened to randomly find a 20-year-old hockey jersey with a stylized NJ on the front, and the name "STEVENS" and the number "4" on the back. Still with the worn-in jeans and surplus store swamp boots, though. Baby steps. Being a slave to his connection to fate, it was hard to tell why Cassian was there. Maybe he was following the mermaid. Maybe he liked how wild the overgrowth was on the banks. But, when he did notice the mermaid, he offered a strange greeting from the wind-swaying reeds. A sharp, rising whistle leads to a chattered 'ke-ke-ke-ke', some distance ahead of Etsy. There, feet in the water, was Cassian. He almost seemed to sway with the standing reeds, moving as they did in the Dusk wind.
A slight narrowing of her eyes, as if she's straining to make out details, as Avalon comes to see that there are others around. She doesn't linger too close to them, but there are quiet studies done of each of them by those mis-matched eyes. When she sees what Allen is wearing, her lips quirk at the corner, and there's a soft sound of amusement passes them. It seems that Allen has found a particularly interesting stone on the bank. Reflexively adjusting the back harness for his sledgehammer (which... why would he have that tonight?), he leans down and picks a practically perfect skipping stone. He tests the weight in his hand, rubbing his thumb over its surface, then seems to want to give it a go. After a moment, he seems to thing better of it and simply deposits the stone into his front pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he seems someone vaguely familiar and someone not so familiar. He pauses, as if considering whether to approach. Cassian considered the others, from his place hidden in the banks. He enjoyed the cool water running over his feet and ankles. "Shhhh, no, the sun will return," Cassian whispers, as an idle hand runs along the reeds thoughtlessly--He was watching the others. Everyone can probably hear the sound of someone running. The sound of twigs breaking and something crashing through the weeds that grow on the ground. The large orange harvest moon in the sky is blotted out as something flies over it. Then the sound of a gunshot rings out and something cries out shrilly in pain. One of the people that were running near the group that has gathered have a rifle and are looking up at the sky, looking a bit wild eyed. They probably don't need a gun. Not at all.
Someone running away from something in these parts isn't exactly...that odd. But everything else that goes along with it is. Including that shrill cry that has Avalon looking up to the sky, in the direction of the Harvest Moon, and the blocking of it. They Wyrdos on the ground suddenly aren't as interesting as whatever it is that made that sound, not by half. The gunshot breaks the Ogre's riverbank reverie, as does the shriek of pain. Those who can see such things in the relative dark by the bank see Allen seem to grow more... solid and angular somehow. His voice, more gravelly than usual, rasps out, "Who goes," like some henchman of an evil scientist re-animator. And then the mermaid from Court is disarming the fellow with the gun. Allen does not relax. Hammerman never does. Eyes on the skies.
There's another man that appears not too far down the trail from where the others are grouping up and when he sees his friend just handing over his gun to Etsy there's a bit of a weird look between the two, "Umm, dude...what are you doing?" he asks. "Ma'am. We ain't doing anything illegal. There was something that attacked a worker and we were following it." he tells Etsy. And Allen. Dearest Allen. Something pretty large plummets out of the sky and drops right by him. If it had been only a few inches closer it would have hit him right in the face. Thank goodness that it didn't. "Oh, nobody said was doing an illegals! Just friend is not so good a shoots as me." Sotto voce, Etsy adds: "Also, was a little bit nervouses, so maybe is a bestness to not have a guns when having a nervous." The mermaid smiles that prim little smile at the other man, cheery and radiating that 'hi yes you should like me' that Springs often have on first meeting. And then something lands near Allen, and Etsy swings the firearm up, pointing it at the thing that lands. Actually, uh, it looks like she can handle that thing quite well...
Allen's so pumped to get ahold of whatever just fell from the sky that the Ogre doesn't realize one thing.. THAT IT'S ALREADY DEAD! But once the clouds clear it's easy to tell that what Allen was getting ready to mangle further is definitely a large bat of some kind. One that shouldn't be in Vermont in the first place. Maybe someone got an exotic pet and let it loose and now it was flying about trying to find its way home. The ogre doesn't move quick like a whip. More like an avalanche. Still, his movements are effective; his muscles ripple like tiny landslide and his dominant arm reaches out grabs the... whatever it is that almost landed on him and grabs it by the throat. The smile that Allen allows himself to have fades quickly as he drops it at his feet. He looks at it, then back to the two folks talking to the mermaid. He grunts, a sharp exhalation of breath that is very un-Allen-like. The sounds of running footsteps sound from further down the path, in the direction the group had generally been shuffling in from. It's accompanied by a voice that speaks with a posh British accent, if said accent were raised in nonsensical alarm. "What's all this, then! I heard gunshots! Esther! If that's you, so help me!" So no one should be too surprised when a stuffy British man in a suit and wingtips comes waddling around the bend, brandishing an umbrella. SIGH. "No, Reggies, I did not do a shoots. But is a ... somethings, up here. Probably a pet exotics, somebody let out, and now it is hurted to death." Etsy, who had been aiming a shotgun at what... well, at what Allen picked up, lowers the shotgun so she doesn't accidentally shoot the Ogre. "Is a deadness? Is not just a hurteds?" The 'stole' the mermaid wears shifts slightly, and Etsy's lower lip pouts out. Her head turns up, and her eyes scan the trees, the sky. Still, she isn't giving the gun back. "I am not a hurteds, Reggie, promises." "Well, we didn't mean to kill someone's pet." The one that still had his gun states. He at least looked sincere. The other guy is still staring at Etsy like she has three heads. "Can...can I have my gun back. I'm going to go home and lock it up." he tells her. And he sounds very serious. When Reggie comes around the corner with the umbrella and the accent he looks like he might be on a bad trip or in a bad nightmare. "We're really sorry to put you folks through that." he adds. Cassian considered the situation in his mind, thoughtfully analyzing it. The bat already being dead caused him some concerns, and he seems eager to figure something out as he approaches the others. As he moves, Cassian slips the bow over his shoulder to hang. But, in his left hand, a coiled whip dangles. Time to put the lie detector to the test. "It attacked a worker, and you attacked it? Where did you see it attack the worker?" He asks, expecting some lies. The second man looks at Cassian and there's a nod of his head, "We've got a rank about a mile back down the way. Dropped down on his head. Didn't know what was going on. We don't have a lot of bats in Vermont." he tells him. "Is there anything else you wanted to know, Detective?" he asks. Reggie looks more than a little perplexed by everything that he's just stumbled upon. Including Etsy's pout. "Well, naturally YOU'RE fine," Reggie assures her, though he doesn't elaborate due to all the prying eyes and ears standing about. Still more than a little flummoxed, he shuffles on over to Etsy and gives her a brief visual once over before nodding his head once. "See? You're fine." He gives her a little nudge with an elbow and a brief rolling of the eyes. As though bullets could hit her. Pffffft. "As long as is just to takes home and having a put aways. You are a little shaked, yes?" Etsy hands the gun off -- again -- like someone who knows how to handle a firearm, even though she doesn't look really like someone who should. (You don't get into a motley with Billy Ray without becoming top-notch with guns, if only through osmosis.) "Yes, Detectives, is another questions? You are so smarts to see is a detectives, he definitely is a things." The mermaid's gaze sweeps the group easily, including Avalon. Yep, she sees errybody. "Well, am not seeing a thing up theres, so must be it is the only thing... " The Stonebones nudges the... horse-headed bat... thing... whatever... with his foot and snorts again. He clearly doesn't trust that the thing is dead, which could account for why he hasn't moved from his spot near it. Those violet, hungry eyes regarded the man for a long, silent moment. To the Lost, it was far more sensitive a sight, as thin petal-fold lips peel back to reveal a grin of jagged knives. Those dark, fathomless orbs seemed as though they could themselves devour the man whole. His mien was far less terrifying, but still a bit strange. After Etsy's recovery, and a bit of whimsy, Cassian decides to let the slight go. "Sun's down," Cassian says, "Better make sure the cattle are safe." The voice is a whisper, but he offers a firm, single nod. "Poor thing," Avalon says with sympathy for the bat, a little shake of her head. "You're right, we don't have a lot of bats here. Not nearly enough." That's a scolding tone, towards the two men. "Maybe, next time you take a shot at something, you'd best make sure that you know what you're shooting at." She glances towards Cassian, giving him an odd little look before shaking her head. Etsy gives Reggie a belated little smile aside and winks at him fondly. Like bullets could hit her? Not bloody likely. "Yes, love. I am all rights." One of her hands reaches for one of his. She hums a little bit to herself, now that she's handed over the gun, and she gives Cassian a certain look, tipping her chin up at Avalon. What she said. Nothing moves. Nothing twitches. The large bat is dead. It has a clean hole through its body. High powered rifles tend to rip through fleshy things. The two men give a bit of an apologetic look to the group and then Avalon is scolding and they start to head off with a tip of a hat. Because no one wants to deal with more people scolding them.
Reggie leans in the direction of the very dead bat and squints at it briefly before declaring, "Ah. A fruit bat. Megabat! Flying fox! Poor little fellow probably wanted to make friends. Harmless, you know. The fruit bat. Unless it were to fall on your head from above after having been shot by over anxious yanks with more bullets than common sense. In that case it might injure you severely. Leading to civil liability suits ranging into the hundreds of thousands of dollars. Then there's lost wages. Pain and suffering. Legal fees." Reggie twitches his nose before asking of the gun carrying fellows, "Just where was that ranch of yours again?" Cassian watches the Hunters make their way off, his eyes following them before they shift back to Etsy. "They would have been tasty," he remarks, before he takes the moment to regard Allen and Avalon a moment. He didn't know either of them. "Good thing that bullet didn't have our name on it," he says between them. "It's the Watson ranch." they call. Almost in unison. If they hear the rest, they don't acknowledge it. Probably because the kids because are high tailing it out of there. "Luckily, none of us were airborne," Avalon murmurs, as she unzips her hoodie, a t-shirt worn under it that advertises: SEVENTH HOUSE CAFE TEA HOUSE across her chest. She bends down, going to her knees to start wrapping the deceased bat up. "Poor thing, really. You're no Jersey Devil, are you? Shame." Soft, cooing words, before she looks up with those bright, mis-matched eyes.
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