epidemiology | EVENT ★ THE USUAL SUSPECTS

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EVENT ★ THE USUAL SUSPECTS

THE BARRIER

As promised, Arthur has the means to unlock that first, crucial step to saving the ALASTAIR recruits: unveiling the runes maintaining the barrier. He has sequestered himself in a rented room in the inn down the road from the prison; he’s at a good enough distance to keep his concentration unbroken, but near enough that he can reach the runes in question. The recruits are told to be ready, to wait for his signal before they take action.

The signal comes just after the stroke of 5 on the town’s clocks, at what would be dawn in a world of less darkness. There’s a shimmer in the air around the brick building of the jail, like the surface of a bubble. Then suddenly the runes are there: glowing bright green, flaming into existence at various points along and within the barrier.

There are at least 30 of them along the outside. They’re etched on walls, scribed into doors, carved into the very ground. These have to be destroyed first to make any progress, in any way the recruits are able to. Once these all have been broken, erased, or scattered (and some of them are cleverly hidden or out of reach -- have you checked the topmost brick in the clock tower of the jailhouse?), the first defense of the barrier has fallen. Then the jailhouse itself can be rushed, but magic is still hampered until every rune is destroyed. From there the runes can be found every few feet in the walls, ceilings, and floors of the jail, and only once each one is broken will the spell be completely lifted, magic and abilities restored to the area, and the inmates considerably easier to break out.

The recruits aren’t the only ones that can see those runes, though. The jailers are quick to react, and some spring to the defense of the runes while others rush to sound the alarm, calling even more armed guards to the area. Even city guards start to show up in response to the alarm -- there’s definitely a time limit on this venture. Dispose of the runes, rescue your friends, and be out of the area quickly, or you might just be overrun with armed, angry opposition.

THE ESCAPE

By the time those in the cells are finally brought out, it’s pandemonium. The guards, jailers and city guards alike, might not have been able to stop ALASTAIR’s recruits from destroying the runes and bringing down the barrier, but they’re determined at least to stop dangerous criminals from escaping into the city. And these criminals were due to be hung, so they’re not looking to take anyone down peacefully. They’ll be going for the killing blows.

The best chance will be to rely on numbers and scatter. In ones and twos and threes, people should be taking to shadowy alleys, slipping around corners, even dropping down into the sewers, if they have to. Anything to thin out and disappear. The most capable and destructive fighters are asked to stay as long as they can, giving the bulk of the rest of the escapees time to disappear into that unending night.

THE COOLDOWN

Those that helped free their friends probably won’t run into too many problems in the following days, unless you run into a guard with a few injuries and a long memory. The ex-prisoners, though, are another story. They were in there long enough that the men and women who guarded them know most of their faces quite well, and since they’re out of prisoners to guard, what else do they have to do but take to the streets and search? Ex-prisoners should play it carefully, then, if they don’t want to end up right back where they started. Guards are more than happy to cause an immediate fracas should they spot anyone that belongs in jail.

That’s not to say you shouldn’t go out at all! Just, you know, take a disguise with you. As if anticipating the rising demand for them, all local merchant shops seem to be stocking up on scarves, shawls, and bulky clothing. Isn’t that nice? Most of them don’t really care what anyone did to end up in jail, they just want to share in on those ALASTAIR-paid wages.

If spotted, townsfolk have varied opinions of the escapees. Some are mistrustful and bitter, and will immediately alert guards upon realizing who they’re dealing with. Some of them really don’t care. They’re tired of the darkness, tired of the conflicts, they just want to get on with life. One old man in particular seems to inexplicably love all ALASTAIR recruits, the ex-prisoners in particular, and will insist on buying a drink and playing a game of chess with any of them he runs into. The goblins, of course, have pretty good opinions of anyone on the wrong side of the king, and will be your best bet for finding lodging and food. Some of them might even think of you as a hero, or at least a roguishly charming vigilante.

Spend your post-breakout time well, and try not to make any more enemies.

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[Hellboy is not really accustomed to being rescued. Usually it is the other way around, huge as he is and how good he is at taking a beating.

Now that the barrier's gone down, the injuries he's been saddled with for the past week have started to close up; he can feel his flesh knitting together and his bones mending. Not quickly enough to erase his pain completely, but it's enough to fill him with adrenaline to the point where it barely bothers him, at least.

He's been fighting back, letting other prisoners escape, though theoretically this is the job of other people. This guy with the lance is one of these people, and Hellboy winds up in the same general area as him as they are slowly pushed back against a wall. Though distracting guards is still helping other people escape, Hellboy doesn't particularly enjoy feeling caged in at the point of a bunch of swords and spears and stuff, so he just unceremoniously slams his stone fist backwards to shatter the window behind them.

He glances sidelong at his companion.] Probably overstayed our welcome.

[And then he just hops through the window. Such is Hellboy.]

[ He should probably be spooked by the giant, blood-colored half-man and his sledgehammer hand. But rather than flounder and grip white-knuckled to the windowsill, he follows immediately in as graceful a dive as he can manage. Because why not jump out of a several-story tall prison tower. It'll probably be cool, like that airboarding scene from Batman and Robin.

So Lancer's suitably composed about this free-fall, though he wears a minute frown as he catches the very tip of Hellboy's tail, tugging it gently like one might tap a shoulder. ]

Hey, what're you gonna do about—

[ Too many words, not enough time: incoming, a colony of bats, startled awake from where they'd been hanging some ways beneath the now-shattered window. ]

[Lancer can be as graceful as he wants; Hellboy is not built for beauty and elegance. He plummets through the air like a dead weight, the heft of his stone hand automatically tipping him to one side, though he at least manages to keep his hooves pointed relatively at the ground. He has a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

Hellboy barely has a chance to glance over his shoulder (and up, kind of? Gravity) at the tugging before there is a bunch of shrieking, flapping, furry things smacking into him.]

Son of a -- you're kidding --

[This just in: Hellboy's luck is dumb. He lifts his right arm to deflect the rest of the bats as best he can, though it's not an exact science. Growling irritably, he reaches back with his left hand to grab whatever he can of this blue fellow -- a sleeve, a collar, a leg -- and unceremoniously flips them both down toward a nearby roof, away from the bats and from the ground quickly rushing up toward them, using his stone hand as a ballast.]

[ Lancer's no stranger to piss-poor luck and everything happening too much, though honestly... he hadn't been expecting Hellboy to be able to grab him by the ankle through all the bat interference. Of which there is a lot. They fly in a furious cloud, and it's hard to see past any of the airborne rodents to whatever the heck this demon guy's got up his sleeve, so he's just trusting that there's a plan somewhere in all of this.

—Which seems to be a crash landing. (Lack of elegance, indeed.)

But mercifully, they've fallen far enough to the lower ramparts and then some to the stables; the roofs here are mostly thatched, and the full crashing force of one whole Hellboy and his rock hand is enough to shatter whatever wood and stone does exist there. Still, it's not gonna be a fun spill for his buddy here—Lancer isn't crushingly huge, but there's splinters everywhere and it's been a long way down and a couple bales of hay are really not much in the way of cushioning.

They land in a crash. There's some tumbling involved. Bats continue to shriek and flap in the distance, the animals around are kind of pissed and freaked out, and Lancer only adds to the noise with a little cough, eventually gathering himself from where he's basically sitting on Hellboy's back. Only one real thing to say, here: ]

Wo—w. [ ... ] You alive?

[Hellboy really, really wishes he could say this is the first time this has happened to him. But falling long distances and crashing through roofs have become part of his life by this point. Not just a hazard of his job -- literally a hazard of just being a Hellboy.

At least this time there aren't a bunch of witches around trying to crown him. He hopes.

Despite his general toughness, he is still nursing broken ribs from his treatment inside the prison where he didn't heal at his normal (abnormal) pace, so it takes a few long seconds for the stars to fade from his vision after they land in a heap.

Somewhere inside the barn, a cow moos.]

Probably. [That came out more pained than he intended, so he clears his throat and tries again.] At least we're not falling anymore.

[Almost as if on cue, the floor creaks and then gives way beneath them, landing them in the cellar.]

Edited (wait i can make this better) 2015-12-18 20:52 (UTC)

[ Well, good to know his newfound demon friend could take a couple lumps. He pats his shoulder supportively—there there, walk it off—when falling, part II happens with an abrupt shudder of failing floorboards.

And down they go. Again. This time their fall's broken by water, which probably has like, snakes in it. Lancer lands with a splash, this time seemingly missing his Hellboy landing pad, immediately hopping up onto a nearby barrel to escape the murk and scum. But the damage is done: he's folded up there and stares at Hellboy miserably, doing a very admirable impression of a wet cat. ]

Do me a favor... [ He sounds a little huffy, but considering the circumstances, it could be a lot worse. ] don't test our luck anymore.

[ Because it's clearly fucking terrible. A sheep bays curiously from above. ]

[Snakes. Of course there are snakes. Rats too, probably. Maybe some cholera.

Hellboy is not thinking about critters, microscopic or otherwise, as he is too busy floating around in an underground pool and trying very hard to keep his rage in check. He is about two seconds away from just barreling into a wall like a toddler having a tantrum, if a toddler was 400 pounds and the resulting tantrum would be capable of breaking the foundation. Bringing the whole barn down on top of them would be the icing on the cake, and he is trying not to kill his companion, so he manages to push his fury down after a few moments of concentration.

Grunting irritably in a way that actually might be a cough, Hellboy stands up. He's tall enough that he's not completely submerged, but he doesn't like the way the bottom of this cistern feels under his hooves.]

No promises. [It's very, very dry. Unlike Hellboy's dripping wet coat.

He starts wading... well, somewhere. Is there even a door down here?]

...did you just see something? [Very large cholera bacterium floating by?]

[ Mostly cholera, let's be real.

Lancer would survive a small cave-in, but maybe they should try to keep the property damage to a minimum. It'd be a little conspicuous. That said... honestly, whatever it is under this long-forgotten, stagnant pool might deserve a couple tons of debris dropped on top of it. He leans his head out to take a closer look, keeping a precarious balance on his makeshift barrel-raft. ]

Yeah. [ A squint. It's dark. His pupils expand from their usual slits, almost looking normal. ] It's pretty bi—actually. Maybe not?

[ The way the water moves isn't like a cottonmouth cutting through it. Not clean enough. It's little ripples and slippery squiggles adding up, like a too-large swarm of tadpoles in a tidepool.

Except it's not tadpoles. ] Ah——!

[ Lancer exclaims quietly to himself, more pleased than surprised as he finally gets a good look and the mental lightbulb flips on. ]

It's leeches. [ yeah!!! nailed it ]

[Throughout, Hellboy is still sloshing around through the water, looking for an exit. Or at least a way to pull himself up out of this pool. Things are squirming under his hooves and he's starting to get creeped out -- he's dealt with enough Lovecraftian worm things for a lifetime, and really isn't in the mood right now.

But. Leeches.] Leeches.

[Leeches.

Hellboy, open wounds and all, is standing chest-deep in an underground pit of filthy water filled to the brim with leeches. He stops moving, unsure if that will make it better or worse.]

This is the worst day of my entire God damn life. [And that's saying something.] Do you see a ledge anywhere?

[ Leeches. Lancer dips his hand into the water for a bare second, snatching out one of the many leeches wriggling within the muck and grime. He looks pretty composed for a guy pinching an odd, massive parasite between his fingers. It doesn't give much. ]

Hm. [ He turns it, avoiding its wild lashings to try and suckle the blood from his thumb. The little slug-like creature seems covered in an odd carapace, like a scaly exoskeleton. Tougher and bigger than it has any right to be.

Lancer then unceremoniously drops it back into the water, turning his attention to Hellboy's no good very bad day. Huge and apparently durable as he is, he should probably help him out, these leeches are no joke. He motions for him to head over to where he is, extending a hand. ] Nope. Here, I'll just give you a boost.

[Oh, okay. Just drop the thing back in the water that Hellboy is also in. That's fine. Hellboy's simmering rage flares up for a second before he rationalizes that one leech (carapaced leech?) will not make a difference either way, and he exhales hard through his nose.

He looks at his companion a little dubiously, not entirely convinced that the barrel can handle both of them. But he doesn't exactly see a better solution around here, so he wades closer, reaching out to grasp his arm with his normal hand.]

Alright --

[ It's like one out of probably hundreds. Hundreds of leeches, Hellboy.

Anyway, the bizarrely reptilian parasites are starting to get riled up if the bubbling water is any indication, so he ignores Hellboy's Look (if he can even decipher it to begin with), gripping him solidly around the forearm. And it's true. The barrel might not support them both.

Luckily, that hadn't been Lancer's plan anyway. His hold turns tight, shoulders stiff before he yanks hard, hoisting Hellboy straight out of the water with strength that absolutely doesn't match his size. And he basically... throws him back up to the upper level, though he'll have to scrabble for the ledge himself. Lancer's a bit busy correcting his balance, feet shifting as the barrel bobs dangerously. Once he's got his bearings though, he'll peer back to see how Hellboy's managed.

Or... he'd probably notice a Hellboy-sized splash if it didn't work. ]

[Hundreds of leeches, oh boy. Even more reason for Hellboy to get out of this filthy water, though he's still concerned. Of course, he doesn't have much reason to be, since apparently Lancer had a completely different tactic in mind --

Which would have been nice to have clued Hellboy in on first, incidentally.

He's suddenly in the air, yelping, then the wind gets knocked out of him as he lands somewhere that is decidedly not a pool of leech-infested water. He's dizzy and disoriented and manages to roll (read: flop) onto his back, then spends a few seconds staring up at rafters until a sheep pokes him in the face with its nose.]

What the hell -- [His head pops through the hole in the floor to look down into the basement.] -- was that?

[ Lancer leaps back up through the giant hole in the floor, landing besides Hellboy noiselessly. Which would read as a lot more graceful if he didn't proceed to flop down and sit cross-legged, stretching his arms out. There's the pop where his elbows crack. Four hundred pounds is no joke, man.

But that answer should still be obvious. A dubious brow-raise. ]

Me getting you out of the water.

[ Keep up, HB...!! If he meant the actual physical means by which Lancer accomplished this, he offers nothing. Instead he finishes rolling his wrist before leaning over, helpfully peeling a leech off of Hellboy's tail. ]

You've still got a few... anyway, I thought it'd beat a slow death by bloodsucking. Might've made that whole jailbreak thing a wash, y'know?

[Hellboy's face doesn't work as well as a human's for expressing very subtle emotions. Luckily, what the hell???? is not extremely subtle, and he sort of boggles at this guy just launching himself up out of a basement, from the top of a floating barrel, to just kind of hang out next to him.

If there was ever anyone who made him feel as graceful as a sack of cats...]

Sure... [It doesn't really answer the many, many questions he has, but he'll let it go. He's too tired right now.

Too tired and still getting eaten by leeches, apparently. That's great. Grunting, Hellboy reaches inside his coat to pull more leeches off from where they'd attached on his middle.]

So, I'm Hellboy.

[As if this whole situation wasn't just the weirdest thing and he wasn't on the run from the po-po and he wasn't pulling carapaced leeches off his body and crushing them in his sledgehammer hand.]

[ Hellboy can boggle all he'd like, as long as he doesn't exhaust him with a million questions (usually he's patient enough, but even his endurance has its limits, and today has pressed them). Lancer clearly doesn't bother either, even if he's got plenty of his own (are you a fairy, a demon, a distant relative to Baphomet—).

Instead he smiles, cordial, hands resting loosely by his ankles. The oddness of the situation doesn't escape him. But if anything it just makes his humor a little more genuine: it's been an odd day. He's in strange company. He can either be entertained or awkward, so it may as well be the former. ]

I'm Lancer.

[ The leeches pop and burst in a gross squishing noise, but they probably deserve it, the little bastards. ]

And I bet no one's told you this before, but that's a weird name.

[ Judging from his tone, that's more an aside than an insult. ]

[Hellboy is generally very polite to people, thank you, even if they are super bizarre. As long as they don't scream DEMON or FAIRY at him, he is more than happy to keep the questions to himself. Which is maybe hypocritical, but shut up. (Meanwhile, distant relative to Baphomet is probably true but let's not go down that particular genealogical road.)

Briefly cocking an eye at Lancer, whose name isn't exactly normal either, Hellboy then goes back to popping leeches.]

Yep. You're the first. [His tone of voice is so flat that the sarcasm might be hard to miss. It doesn't help that his face is naturally deadpan, but that's Hellboy's sense of humor for you.]

So I guess you're new. I think I'd remember seeing that getup around.

[ It's very hypocritical, and maybe he'll comment on this someday outside of introspective brackets. Today is not that day.

Anyway, Lancer takes a second to look over his expression. He's not much for mysteries, and it's a hard read—except in this case, the sarcasm's implied. Expected. He's equally sardonic, but it shows in a smile, a little teeth.

(Like he's the memorable one here.) ]

Yeah? I thought it was pretty modest myself.

[ Because bright blinding blue is very demure. One of the fuller leeches bursts into smudge of blood and bug guts. ]

—I ended up here a few days ago. [ He finally deigns to do something useful, crushing one wriggling leech with his heel. ] Wasn't expecting this much... [ falling, crashing, bloodsucking ] action so quickly, but I can't complain.

[Blue hair, blue armor, big freakin' spear... Hellboy makes for a memorable figure, but at least he doesn't make an effort to have a color palette.

He shakes his head, watching the leech explode under Lancer's foot.] Things have really picked up lately. They picked a great time to recruit you.

[If recruitment is the right word, anyway.

Hellboy pops another leech in his stone hand, patting down his back with the normal hand it make sure he got them all. He might find one in his pocket, later, and it will be the funniest thing that happened to him since... like, since he fell out of a prison window and landed in a cesspit.

He doesn't notice the flowers starting to sprout in the floorboards, instead just scrubbing at his eyelid with the heel of his palm.] So I guess the next step is to get the hell out of here. I don't know about you, but I'm not too eager for round two with all those guards.

[ To be fair, he doesn't need to make an effort.

It takes a second for him to actually pay attention to Hellboy's (very reasonable) suggested course of action. Mostly because there's some weird shit afoot. Lancer watches as the flora grows out of nothing (unless splotches of blood and ichor counts), sprouting small and budding and blooming into fair, white flowers, maturing faster than any plant should. And maybe that's no weirder than reptilian leeches or magic jail cells—hard to fit a relative scale to these things—but maybe it is. Lilies from blood is not a common motif, even in the hundreds of heroic stories he'd hoarded to memory after death. These are the sorts of things that spirits like him hide. Clues to their truer identities.

—Then again, Hellboy isn't a spirit. (And he looks more a dragon than a saint.)

He looks to the ground as though he's mulling Hellboy's words, though he looks more contemplative than confused. Then he plucks up one of the lilies. Spins it between his fingers by the stem. ]

Yep. Let's get going.

[ He extends the flower to him first. ]

Think you might've dropped this, though.

Edited (no!!!) 2016-01-04 17:04 (UTC)

[Hellboy's wounds -- those he suffered in the jail, during the escape, and while crashing through multiple levels of a barn -- are starting to heal up. He can still feel the broken bones in his chest, but he feels less like the walking dead at this point. He's about to get up, shifting his no longer aching limbs to pull himself out of this awkward heap next to the hole in the floor, but then he sees the flowers.

Then Lancer is holding one out to him.

This is a little awkward.

After pausing for an even more awkward few seconds, Hellboy takes the lily, studies it for a moment, then just stuffs it in his pocket as he rises to his feet.]

These leeches must have been something else. [Hellboy 101: Casual Deflection.

Without another comment, Hellboy lowers his center of gravity and clack clack clacks to the barn door, gently maneuvering around some sheep. That is a story for another time.]

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EVENT ★ THE USUAL SUSPECTS

WILDCARD 2B SWITCHAROO

hands him a jetpack

that's cruel

love hurts

finally i'm here

okaeri

i had to google that, i hate you

saranghae unnie :*

przestan >:[ nie

theresa-chan....... suki da yo...

tu es si étrange [headshaking emote]

what does that mean!!

it means you're weird!!!!

no!!!!!!!

too late, it already happened

you're not the boss of me

that you know of!!!!

that's an alarming response???

precisely

no

i can't even remember what we were fighting about