Difference between revisions of "Log:Heroes Plunder Hera Pear - Act II"
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Should anyone peek beyond the rocks and through the vines, they will see the following: | Should anyone peek beyond the rocks and through the vines, they will see the following: | ||
− | In the centre of the rocky outcrop, there is a tree: a glorious, vivid, beautiful tree with the | + | In the centre of the rocky outcrop, there is a tree: a glorious, vivid, beautiful tree with the freshest green leaves - vines hang down from its boughs, but it seems so -beautiful-. It is The Tree, there is no question about that. Behind the tree there is a sheer cliff face that reaches up, up, up, ending in some yellow mist that lingers there. |
Around the tree, perhaps a tennis court's length in a semi-circle away from the reach of it's canopy, there is a fast running half circle of stream fed by two springs on either end a the base of the cliff, which acts as a natural barrier between where the group current is, and the tree they came for. With a running start, maybe they could jump it -- the water is indigo-black, and in places there are rocks which could arguably be used to get across. | Around the tree, perhaps a tennis court's length in a semi-circle away from the reach of it's canopy, there is a fast running half circle of stream fed by two springs on either end a the base of the cliff, which acts as a natural barrier between where the group current is, and the tree they came for. With a running start, maybe they could jump it -- the water is indigo-black, and in places there are rocks which could arguably be used to get across. | ||
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− | So Another C.B. answered that question -- sort of -- but Bird Person just kept on staring at Mina's short bow like it owes them a lot of glamour so... ::BANG::. Bird Person is shot, and he's shot right through the damned chest -- tufts of featherdown joining a spray of blood. Immediately around the wound, | + | So Another C.B. answered that question -- sort of -- but Bird Person just kept on staring at Mina's short bow like it owes them a lot of glamour so... ::BANG::. Bird Person is shot, and he's shot right through the damned chest -- tufts of featherdown joining a spray of blood. Immediately around the wound, black goo seeps, and his feathery taloned hands flap, as the creature screeches some inhuman call and stumbles backwards. Not dead, but maybe wishing it was. |
The birds flying overhead scatter. | The birds flying overhead scatter. |
Latest revision as of 17:22, 1 May 2018
Heroes Plunder Hera Pear - Act II | |
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"I need that damn pear. I can't lose Kip." | |
Participants
C.B. Alexander, Mina Grey, Cerise Hodgson, Damion King, & Ben Utridge |
30 April, 2018 They made it through the Hedge - passing through field and maze and maddening staircases, negotiating a river crossing and venturing far into Fanwood Fen to reach their goal: a rocky outcrop above the marsh, home to an elusive Hera Pear tree. Now the only problem is: how the heck do they get that fruit, without being torn apart by... Themselves? |
Location
The Deep Hedge | |
The rag tag crew of Hera Pear Plunderers begin their trek up -- around the swooping switchback path that brings them between curtains of vines and under waterfalls of dark indigo-black water that sparkles as it descends down into the marsh, The bone of the pathway eventually turns into something grey, then something black -- shiny, glass like, crunching subtly under foot as they head up, up, up. Finally the path flattens out. Up ahead, beyond a turn that's half-shielded by fingers of rock covered in vines, there is sound -- metal clashing against metal, heavy breathing, someone yelping, sounds of a struggle, bubbling water, groaning. A fray, in other words. Should anyone peek beyond the rocks and through the vines, they will see the following: In the centre of the rocky outcrop, there is a tree: a glorious, vivid, beautiful tree with the freshest green leaves - vines hang down from its boughs, but it seems so -beautiful-. It is The Tree, there is no question about that. Behind the tree there is a sheer cliff face that reaches up, up, up, ending in some yellow mist that lingers there. Around the tree, perhaps a tennis court's length in a semi-circle away from the reach of it's canopy, there is a fast running half circle of stream fed by two springs on either end a the base of the cliff, which acts as a natural barrier between where the group current is, and the tree they came for. With a running start, maybe they could jump it -- the water is indigo-black, and in places there are rocks which could arguably be used to get across. Between the tree and the circle of water, there are figures, fighting: a thin Wizened, a meaty Ogre, a Fairest with flowers in her hair. Hanging in the vines of the tree, there is a powerful Fairest with red scales hanging limp. Over by the roots of the tree, there is a brown haired woman. Her legs are over by the stream. The three who still stand, are fighting what looks to be a... Bird person. Everyone save the bird is familiar. "Get back! Go back, go BACK!" Screams the all to familiar Loud and Clear voice of that thin, panicked looking Wizened, as the group draws near. Wait. Have they all been here before?
The Bird Person is lashing out at Another-Ogre's face with its talons, letting out some kind of harrowing 'skreeeee!'. It is about this time, that the landscape around The Tree starts to shift -- it's subtle really, at first - just a little blurring around the edges, like all the colours are being blended, or something greasy has been smeared over the lens: everything is in soft focus, even sound. Downside is it's hard to tell where one thing starts and another begins. Plusside? Everyone looks pretty good, at least when they're close enough to identify at all. Say goodbye, stress wrinkles -- or at least the perception of them. "Don't ask! Don't stop! Get out, GO, get GOING!" Hollered back to Damion, the Loud and Clear voice of a scrawny Wizened who's waving his arms in warning at the group, while the Fairest with Foxgloves is moving to pick up a fallen branch and strike the Bird Person. The girl with no legs doesn't move. High above, the chrome yellow mists swirl around the cliff face - birds circle. Down here, the babbling of that wide indigo-black brook continues - sounding tinny, silvery, sweet. Over in the tree, leaves rustle and the scent of ripe pear is carried forward.
"The bird is a Hobgoblin of some kind," Yossarian informs his confused companion (who is really whose companion, here...) C.B. nods, all wide-eyed and electric, and eyes up the brook. How easy would it be to get across? Or should he heed the advice of other-him? He's actually frozen, like he doesn't know what to do next. Not normally how it is for Mr. Impulsive.
Over by the entryway, the sleeping Ben the party arrived with is overcome by some dreamless sleep. In the sticky vines of that tree, the red-scaled Fairest struggles to get free. The Loud and Clear pleading for the travellers to turn back stops, replaced by a -very- real sounding scream of agony, as an arrow hits them in the torso. That's go to sting -- the Wizened is gasping and gurgling and clutching as his side as he leans over. The Foxglove'd haired Fairest freezes, a branch held in her slender hands, shocked as she sees Damion LEAP clear over the brook like some kind of universal jumping champion. Meanwhile, Bird Person is lashing out at the Ogre's body double, who already has a slash over their face and is screaming. The brook that bends in a big U shape around The Tree, spilling over into the fen below - bubbling up indigo-black waters from the dual springs that emerge from the cliff face at the far back of the copse. It smells sweet, and the the soft tinkering from the water is positively beautiful. What a wonderful, terrible place.
Those scream are not only very real, they are very familiar. Over in the sticky vines of the tree, the gleaming red scaled Fairest lets out a furious cry and rips the vines from off his person, falling clumsily to the ground, where he continues the devining process. Bird Person stops, distracted -- giving the bleeding faced Ogre a moment to bring himself back together. Literally: his skin hardens, and all over he gets a stoney appearane. Bird Person isn't paying attention -- their huge, black eyed ringed with gold have turned, staring out unblinkingly in Mina's direction. Under the weight of his stare, the Fairest's bow starts to subtly warp - the grain of the wood compromised, the bowstring twanging as it goes ever-so-slightly slack. The book babbles. The Tree rustles. Everything smells amazing, and looks beautiful: like a perfect spring day at dusk.
"Nothing good comes from this god damned place. Not everything can be healed, and not for free." He coughs up more blood, shaking his head, "Leave, before you lose things you can't get back." With that, he tries to stand and move backwards - away, away... But to where? The cliff? The edge of the brook? The spring?
The birds flying overhead scatter. But in the boughs of the tree... it's not far is it? A big, juicy, -perfect- pear. How have other people described this pear? As being the most beautiful pear they've ever seen. Lustrous and golden, catching and reflecting the light that filters through the vines and boughs of that beautiful tree. Hanging low. Like someone could just walk up there, do a little hop, and pluck it from the tree - just like that. So simple. No trouble at all. ...Then there is a sound. A splash. A little splash. A little splash and Cerise vanishes into the inky indigo-black of the babbling brook with it's intoxicating waters. Who's really paying attention? A casual glance shows... Nothing.
The handsome Fairest with red scales is bested by his mirror image -- he goes down, like the Foxglove Fairest did earlier; coughing blood and feathers and taking a little dirt nap. It's probably temporary. Over to the side, the Ogre with a bleeding face and armoured skin is just looking on in horror, as the scrawny Wizened who got shot through with arrows is still staggering back - to what, safety? That leave Bird Person: bleeding black goo from the bullet wound, where C.B. shot him through the chest. Where did Cerise go? Bird Person isn't paying attention to anything else around him -- only the blackened blood on his feathery hands, then the soft, sweet voice of Mina as the Succuflower calls out across the water and wildflower specked with bones and blood. At first those wide black eyes look like they understand nothing -- so inhumane, so far away -- but as the Fairest speaks of the groups mission - begs and bargains - talks of love... What does Bird Person know of love? Something left unsaid. But maybe they understand passion - want - determination. They start to move -- turning, stumbling, half flying in some Wyrd way, towards where the Hera Pear is. A bloodied talon plucks it from the tree, and then... It's thrown towards Mina. As that perfect fruit sails through the air, aided by a puff of breeze stained chrome yellow with mist, there is a snap. Not outside - not around them - but within: the Pledge. The cords of Wyrd that were tying someone to them in that Day Pledge, it has suddenly broken: Cerise. Something's happened to sever the connection. Where is Cerise? The babbling brook bubbles. Caught up in the rocks over yonder, a mangled figure rises from the depths. Face down.
"Cerise!" he yells, and goes running over there as fast as he can. Yes, that might mean he needs to cross some rocks, too. Yossy is either already there or on his way, waiting patiently for C.B.
For their troubles, the feathered creature gets the full force of Spring's bounty sent his way: the black ooze from around that gunshot wound is forcibly pushed out, while their skin and plumage -- not to mention whatever strange organs they've got going on in the insides -- knits back together. There is no thanks, but there is a fluttery cooing noise, almost like a chirp. A chirp isn't going to do much for Cerise, though. Water rushing around the overturned Mortal woman, pushing her up against those sharp, slippery rocks. Blood flows easily from lacirations in her head and arms, straight into the indigo-black of the brook. She is not moving, except with the pressure of the water; her head lolling back - pale and unresponsive, eyes closed and mouth open -- black inside. Water? Stones? She bobs there like a wooden doll -- or a dead woman. Is that an illusion, or is it real?
Mina drops down to her knees, and her voice is gentle, but firm. "I need a bit of room, Ben, please." And once she has it - even just a few inches - she opens Cerise's mouth a bit wider. Peering inside, before reaching in with those long fingers. Graceful movements become just a little twitchy as she stretches, stretches...wiggles. Exhales. Tries with her left hand. And finally, pulls out a black polished stone, in the shape of an egg.
When Mina pulls the stone out of Cerise's throat, water begins pouring out of the mortal's mouth. In a movie, this would be where Cerise begins coughing and her eyes open, but that doesn't happen here. Cerise still lays there unconscious.
How long was she under for? Not that long. Maybe there's still time. Under the shade of the Hera Pear, mists roll along and vines sway in the breeze. The owlish creature has backed off, watching but not interacting - while two Fairest lay in some immobile slumber. The screaming from the Wizened-esque fellow has stopped too, as the stoney Ogre shares some kind of fruit. The clock ticks, somewhere.
However...he calms enough to reach to her neck and feel her pulse. Is she alive in the first place?
The inky black water glistens, bubbles along; indifferent to all. In the background, the group of strange doubles and the owlish creature have convened together -- they're moving now, loping off towards the cliff face beyond the Hera Pear; merging with the rock, or disappearing under a curtain of vines. What were they? The only thing which remains is the bisected body of the brown haired, brown eyed, tomboyish and entirely motionless body of that facsimile of Cerise - head and torso by the tree, her legs by the water. Like she'd been split apart trying to reach both. Weird. This whole place is weird. But it's beautiful. In the distance, there is the throaty crick-crick-crick of toadish Ferryman Hobs, warbling out a song in the Fen below. |