2019.08.09: Orrery Adventures: Nerigal
| Orrery Adventures: Nerigal | |
|---|---|
| The Devil's Own run into a kidnapping situation while seeking the Celestine for a stone for Iris's Orrery | |
| IC Date | August |
| IC Time | Afternoon |
| Players | Jes, Branton, Isla, Sean, and Iris, and to a lesser extent Aaryn, Micah Starnes, Aldric, Sten, and Royan |
| Location | Slopes of Olympus Mons, Mars |
| Prp/Tp | Next Also connected to Fury Road |
| Spheres | Gaian Garou |
| Theme Song | Mars Needs Women, by Rob Zombie |
It's "early" when the lizards begin blaring their megaphone-mouths across the ship, informing all, "All hands, planetary arrival in two minutes. All hands, planetary arrival in two minutes." The ship can be felt slowing down, the momentum you share with the ship dropping evenly though it does cause a monetary stumbling if you're not paying attention. The red planet snuck up while everyone was asleep for the night, and there it sits. Even when you KNOW where you're going, there's still an expectation as to what you see, and what you should see is earth. The sight of a large, burnt-orange ball with only the very thinnest wisps of clouds is jarring, beautiful but somehow Wrong to the senses. "Planetary descent in ten minutes, all landing parties report to the deck." The spirit crew is in a rush, fliting, slithering, stomping and galloping back and forth across the ship to prepare it for orbit and time without its Garou crew. Hopefully everyone's got their shit together!
Iris is already heading down to the deck while the alert is sounding across the ship, and she's got with her her usual stuff; talen bag and quiver, bow, and her own badass self. While awaiting her packmates (and pack guest), she takes a little time to mix some secret herbs and spices andalsosomeblood and maybe a few other things and get them ground together mortar and pestle style.
Branton has his gear picked out and his assorted pouches and backpack stuffed with reagents and weapons. Mars may be a planet of battle but there's more than one way to launch into a fight. Sorcery can be terrifying. Branton is out on deck quickly once the call goes out.
Isla has been getting settled in, maybe sleeping off some of the drink, but is up and around. She has her stuff all ready, stretched and limber. "Alright, Heads up! Ready on yer toes! This should be quite an adventure here!"
Alert? Fuck. Where are his pants? Where is his ponytail holder? WHERE IS HIS FINGER?! OH GOD! PANIC! DID HE GET PICKLES FOR WINTER AND WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?! Sean stumbles around and stumbles out and stumbles back in to get his pants and his ponytail holder and he emerges finally, pulling his hair back out of his face, shirt still up under one armpit, pants only buttoned, not zipped (Blue undies).
Iris beams with excitement when people arrive! "LOOK!!" she says excitedly, whipping up her pestal to point at Mars and ending up flinging her goop around in the process. "Alright, everyone gather up, it's time to apply the war paint and also make sure we're not harassed between here and the planet." She uses her finger tips to paint on the faces of each Garou present, unique designs meant to show ferocity. No sunshines or smiley faces this time! While she paints one person at a time, she whispers to them, "Close your eyes, take a deep breath. Give your spirit to the Umbra. Take the Umbra within yourself. Say to yourself 'I belong here. I belong here. I belong here'. Breathe deep, think of your Mother, she is with you." For those that breathe deeply and center themselves and their belonging-ness to the umbra, a sense of Safety may wash subtly over them as the rite marks their right to be in the planet's Aetherial. She would of course ask Branton to get her war paint for her while she gets herself centered also. "Alright fam, we're walking into a very dangerous place with laws that aren't ours." Iris says to her brethren and sistren, "Everyone make damned sure you're on your toes! Don't start fights, but don't be a pussy either. Sean, since I don't think you can fly, Jes'll carry you, right?" Sure he will.
During this, the members of the Frostbite pack arrive, and Iris does the same rite and warpaint treatment for them.
Branton takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, there's a moment when he thinks of his mother that he thinks of his personal mother not Gaia. And the fire he inherited from her glows beneath his skin in a flareup.
Isla grins to Sean. "Aye, Sprinkles will be yer wings, and if'n he has a problem, I can swoop ye both up. So let's put our best foot...er wing forward here." She notes the Frostbite pack, and nods in deference to their Alpha.
"I always wanted wing sprinkles," Sean says, then closes his eyes and concentrates on becoming one with the ambience of the place.
After the rite and pre-game prep has been taken care of, she lets a spirit run off with her used bowl. They've also been putting the FB pack's stuff in a small dingy for them. Iris hands Micah a key fob and tells him, "Here, don't lose this. When you get down there, click this and lock your dingy so it don't get stolen. Think up for up, and down for down, but it don't do sideways so don't bother trying. Tipping over wont dump anyone out in space, but it's disconcerting as hell so I just recommend not doing it at all. And um... Have fun!"
And with no reason left to dawdle, she gives her pack-bros a grin, hops up on the railing and swan dives out into space, kicking in her fetish to bloom dove's wings to help her dive bomb Mars.
While the pack is racing towards the surface, there will be the hilariocity of the FB pack plummeting towards the planet in a tiny little boat, screaming the entire way. Which cracks Iris right the hell up. They're not as fast as the DO though.
Branton gives a reckless grin and swings his legs over the side and dives off after Iris. The embossed wings on his boots flicker with golden light to keep him from crashing to death.
Isla has her flight vest on and secure. She double checks Jes' and then looks to Sean. "Just keep aholda Sprinkles. Maybe dinnae look down too." And after a little finger wave to them both, she takes a running leap off the boat, falling - with style - as her wings pop out, that of the phoenix. She sails on down fast toward the surface.
Getting down to the planet isn't difficult, but it is beautiful. The most enormous mountain you can imagine comes into starker view as the gang draws nearer, taking on craggy details. It's the size of the country of France, three times taller than Everest, and just... HUGE. It's lit inside with thousands of lights, and thousands more ring its great expanse as though a city has grown up in and around it. The winds begin to fight back when the pack aims for it. I mean if you can fly, surely you'd try and just fly to your goal, but no! The harder the pack tries to aim for the great mountain, the more the wind pushes them back, beginning to charge with electricity and make the hairs on everyone's arms stand up and tingle.
So yeah, Iris calls, "Let's land and see if we can get some info on how to get through, this isn't gonna work." through the pack link while aiming down at the city below. That looks a lot like a Mad Max style shanty town filled with strange things, some of which are quite large, like that legitimate mythological dragon stomping down there.
Branton shifts to change the arc of his descent to stay in formation, laughing out loud at the sight of a Dragon and Yelling "YES!" as he follows the group in.
Isla follows Iris' lead, and sails toward the shanty town below. Trying for a place just outside of the town, since landing in the middle would be just rude. Someone else's territory and all.
Down at surface level, the sand is coarse and rough and red (and it gets everywhere). The buildings are rough and impermanent things, and the denizens are strange. Some seem like perfectly ordinary humanoids like soldiers and legionaries, but others are autonomous war machines, or bodies of blood, ice, or fire, Minotaur and dragons, red skeletons armed and armored for war, and stranger still. Danger and menace permeates the area; this must be what it's like for humans to be near Rage. Iris gets lost in staring and mental cataloguing, not noticing a bit of a street boxing thing happening a little ways away staring... Is that a Garou? It is a Garou! Not one any of you know though. Big and in crinos, and currently knocking a barbaric looking fellow the fugout to a rain of cheers and roars.
Branton is doing almost the same thing as Iris at first, they really are two of a kind. When he notices the boxing situation he points off that way "Something going on, maybe we can get some directions."
Isla grins, "Well, that makes it feel a bit more like home. Let's go say hi, and see what we can find out." She looks to see where Jes and Sean have landed... oh, and there is Jes.. peeing already. "C'mon guys, put it back in yer pants, we got to get the formal stuff done."
Sean is carried along! WHEEE! He zips his pants and gets his hair out of Jes's mouth as they descend. He looks a little nervous, but not too bad. And hhe's ready to follow, watching the events openly.
"You cant be king of Mars!" Iris tells Jes with a laugh, but she falls in with Isla when she gets their attention. OH RIGHT, dangerous place. Now suddenly her smile slips and she's keeping a much better watch around herself while getting up near Branton and Isla. No hand holding though, her fingers are busy touching her arrows just in case something happens.
The wolf they approach (male) is decorated in scarification, it looks like it must have really hurt but even with fur obscuring some of it, they're amazingly beautiful designs with a decided Nordic bent. Eyes blazing with a rage, he roars at a new opponent in the ring as his last defeated foe is de-materializing and fading away into elsewhere. It's one of those roars that you have to lean into, a full on Hulk roar before he's tussling it up with a large fellow that looks like he's made of rocks. While he's busy, a couple other Garou move to meet the Devil's Own. "Hooooo leeeeee shit. Garou!" says one, apparently confirming the suspicions of the other. "What in the holy hell are you doing here?" They're both quite decorated as well with scars, beads, and while the one sounds jovial enough, there's still a definite aggression in his stance and tone. One unusual thing these three Garou have in common is a red tinge to their fur, not a natural hue nor do they look purposefully dyed, more it's like they've been stained by the red sand. The red tinges their legs, their hands and their muzzles.
Branton looks over the other Garou, watching them carefully and sizing them up since a rumble might be in the offing. One hand drops to draw his baton but he doesn't extend it yet, but he's ready to.
Isla steps forward, leading the group. "Well, hello to ye too. I'm Isla Ennes, rited Fiery Bellona. Born on these two legs, Athro Ahroun Fianna, daughter of Claws-of-Fire. Alpha of The Devil's Own, packed under the relentless Warrior, Weasel. We've come on an adventure, lead by our very own Theurge, Mercy's Messenger." She gestures to the group with her, and for Iris to add her own two cents.
Sean has a stick too! A metal one. His thumb catches casually on the holster, letting other people lead. But he takes his turn regardless. "Broken Claw, Fostern Fianna Theurge."
The talkative wolf gives a curt nod at Isla's introduction and says, "I am Rage's Tongue, Elder Skald of Homid birth, his is Voiceless, Elder Rotogar of Lupus birth, and that-" he points a claw to the Garou in the ring right at the moment he rips an arm off the rock monster and proceeds to beat it to death WITH its own arm, "Is War Daddy, Elder Modi of Homid birth. We are all Fenrir's chosen children, together as the Howling Wrath pack. We're here to ask the patronage of Nerigal himself."
Iris perks up, "We're trying to get to Nerigal as well! Do you know to do that? Oh, oh wait. I'm Iris Tiganites, rite named Mercy's Messenger, Elder Black Fury born under the crescent moon and proud member of the Devil's Own. This is my Kinfolk Branton Kh-"
She doesn't get to add anything after that about his name, what he does, anything else. Instead, Branton is suddenly grabbed by War Daddy's bigass hand and wrenched into the ring while the last opponent fades away. "WHAT THE FUCK IS A KINFOLK DOING HERE?" And then he punches Branton right at his chest. This isn't a challenging tap, nor an invitation, this is a thoughtless but legitimate attempt to *kill* Branton. The dude is somehow infuriated (like it'd take much to piss that guy off) and insulted by Branton's very presence on this planet, and what his pack might think either doesn't matter or he just didn't even consider it.
Iris will feel bad about this later Branton, promise.
Branton was not expecting to get punched and you can't really parry with a weapon that isn't ready so he brings up a block and side step. This doesn't get him completely out of the way, but he'll get clipped on the shoulder and spun around. He stays on his feet though and centers himself, snapping his baton to full length "I am Branton Frederich Kholer, Sorcerer Priest of Hecate, Flame-touched, Son of a thousand mothers." Then he looks to the sky and adds "Blood of my blood, honored souls of those who've gone before, hear my call and lend me your aid. Show this sucker punching coward the might of the children of Pegasus." And shadowy swirling after images of other people overlap with Branton (most of them women) and they all say (in classical Greek) "Care to try again?"
Isla grins. "He isnae just a kinfolk. He's our FUCKING KINFOLK, and ye fuck with him, ye fuck with all of us and all of them. Care to try that again?" She will defend Branton if needed, but she /knows/ that MF can protect himself just as well as any one of them can.
Sean has his little stick out and brandished by the time that Branton is whipped around and he manages to look menacing.. somehow. Man-buns can be scary sometimes!!! But he just waits to act, until someone tells him to go.
....Yeah, War Daddy wasn't expecting that. Aren't you supposed to be dead? People usually just go ahead and *be* dead when he does that. Like... Every time. The stun might have lasted, maybe rebooted his brain, but then oh the taunt. OH THE TAUNT. Nah, he does not understand classical greek, but he knows a taunt when he hears one, so yes, yes he WILL try again, coming in for a flurry of rage fueled claw swipes.
His talkative packmate, Rage's Tongue, just sighs and shakes his head when their alpha attempts to kill a dude. "See, this is just gratuitous at this point. ... You're right, we've been here a while. He's definitely got some frustrations to get out..." And when Isla challenges him, he just says, "Tell HIM that!" But Him's busy trying to beat Branton's ass. And it's NOT! WORKING! WHY NOT?! The stream of Norse-wolf profanity coming out of this guy.
Iris loses her fucking shit, screaming "BRANTON!" and jumping into her war form. Somewhere around here, Branton catches a break and manages to clock the absolute shit out of War Daddy with that baton of his, and man is his bell *rung*. No one expects the Potence inquisition.
Often times when in combat Branton holds back but when an Elder Garou is trying to murder his face? (and all other attached bits) That is not one of those times. Ildar would find the pattern of events a little familiar at least. The Ahroun comes at Branton with a flurry of rage fueled mayhem and Branton just parries as fast as he can as crackles of white lightning start dancing around him.
There's then a subtle shift and suddenly Branton is moving with a burst of impossible supernatural speed and he slams blows into the Elder's defenses, taking the advice of a different Get and going full aggro. One blow gets through at last there's a crack sound, War-Daddy might have a broken or dislocated jaw.
Isla responds to the guy, "I think Fire Man here is telling him well enough. Let's see how this ends up, then how about ye and us talk, as I think yer alpha just got his jaw broken."
Whoa. Shit. Shift shift! Sean shifts when Iris does, and his man bun poofs outward as the hair tie explodes. He still holds back, though, letting Iris take the lead. Her kin, after all.
"....I wasn't expecting that." Rage's Tongue says, and Voiceless shakes his fuzzy head also, looking equally shocked about things, the crowd roaring around the Garou gaggle either in joy or disappointment in the outcome.. Still, there's that aggression there and they look to the Devil's Own pack, ears flattening back a touch in anticipation of a retaliatory assault. In the ring, War Daddy stumbles to his feet, a big hand on his muzzle and a terrible crunching sound as he pushes a few bones back into place and applies a little self healing. His rage filled eyes fall on Branton and... He laughs. He tips his head back and howls laughter that's full of an absolutely psychotic glee. "We're going to MAKE IT!" he cries, and grabs at Branton again, not to murder him, but to squish him in a gigantic Garou hug. "Look at this half breed! Look at this tiny thing! Bests a Modi, does he? This fierce fire thing is why we're going to make it!"
War Daddy's packmates seem to be taking this babble very seriously, and as one, these guys pull SUCH a dick move! Rage's Tongue and Voiceless grab a few War spirit bystanders and shove them at the Devil's Own while War Daddy himself takes off running! Just... straight up kin-napping Branton! Assholes!
Branton scowls as something the get did when they grabbed him makes his assorted glows flicker and go out. They haven't muzzled him though so Branton starts cussing them out "Get him? That's your fucking plan. I'm the fucking Kinfolk here, think about what the rest of them can do. You better fucking run and I bet you a whole deer that it won't be fast enough."
Isla is NOT having this shit. "FUCK NAE!" She shifts to her war form, and this Fiery Bellona smacks away the war spirits and takes off after them - first on a run, and then the wings fly out and she SAILS after them. >> PUT HIM DOWN OR SO HELP ME YE LOSE YER HEADS! <<
Nope! Not stopping! The Ahroun runs hellbent for leather towards a big cobbled together war machine of badassery and spirit stuff with his two packmates behind him, chanting "Half breed! Half breed! Half breed!" the whole way. This war machine - imagine a semi and a tank had angry sex and this was the result - is parked with a plethora of other war machines from all across time, along with a few that.. age long past? Age yet to come? Whatever, they're weird and probably best ignored what with all these way more familiar things lying around. WW2 gunner bikes, cars made entirely out of pointy bits and stabby things, chariots pulled by nightmare steeds, you name it.
The crowds provide a slight delay, they're War and Violence spirits so they don't shove out of the way without shoving back. During this delay, they tie Branton to the front of their rig while he's wriggling around and trying to be as unhelpful as possible. Not uh.. Not blazing any fire or anything for the moment, Branton is essentially boned while he's turned into a hood ornament. "Look, if we survive I'll apologize." Rage's Tongue says with a 'whatter ya gonna do' shrug before hopping up top. War Daddy drives, Voiceless rides shotgun, and Rage's Tongue begins to rock a flame spewing fetish guitar and unleash some Hootenanny style Norwegian metal while they get their head start.
