Summary:A Kraken appears on the shores of NYC… and gets turned into Calamari by Scandal, Remy and Chava. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Thursday in Turtle bay is just another day. Debris from the not totally razed buildings falls to the ground. Pools of water gather and then sink into the destroyed subway in the rain. A single young woman in a raincoat wanders the riverbank. For a minute she stops and stares out onto the river that has the same color as the zenith above. The sky has the color of a TV turned to a dead channel. A couple minutes she seems to stare out to the silent bay, the sun only casting a dim light on the bay this clouded day. Finally she turns and returns to walking along the broken quay of broken cement and crumbling time. And some hundred feet behind the wandering girl, something long and purple slithers onto the cracked cement from the water.
Turtle Bay… Remy has some contacts who live near here so as it happens, the Cajun is in the region. He's not too close to where the strange purple 'thing' is coming out of the bay itself, but he's close enough that he'll be within sight of it if it does indeed plan to cause havoc.
What the Cajun is doing? He's walking, with his leather trench coat on and his hands in his pockets, he has a black hood pulled up over his head and his red eyes are scanning the area, he's whistling quietly while he walks. Its a slow and catchy tune, something from his hometown…
Out of his right pocket comes his half-gloved hand and he raises a cigarette up to his lips where there is a little flash of pink light, then a puff of smoke is soon to follow out of his hood.
Perhaps appropriately for a scene partly-reminiscent of Gibson's most famous novel, a warlike foreign woman carrying concealed blades stalks through the ruined cityscape. Scandal's opted for a long coat, collar flicked up against the rain - into the haze of which she squints with a scowl. But, accustomed to human-scale threats, her attention is caught by the other figures rather than the thing in the water. Her gait slows as she peers pensively at each of them in turn.
The grey concrete sounds wetly under the shoes of the three people that stalk the waterfront, their sounds intermixing with the sound of the waves… and then something slaps quite wet on it, then another thing. It's rather loud in the dim sound of the late afternoon, something heavy or strong but squishy hitting the broken artificial stone. Almost shapeless, like a bag of clothes heaped onto the floor, the thing drags itself onto the waterfront, just as the young woman turns at the sounds behind her, eying it warily, staring at it… just as the thing stares back from slotted glowing yellow eyes as large as dinner plates.
Other people don't really grab Remy's attention as they walk around, even if this area is a bit… rundown. Everyone has their own business for being here after all, none of which is his to know… or so he hopes.
But it is that wet slopping sound smacking down on the concrete that gets his attention aimed in that direction. Remy stops, his eyes peer out from under his hood and he can see those appendages out of a terrible sea adventure story. "Dat is not somethin' you see every day, Ah think." He says quietly to himself before he takes another puff on his cigarette and is now just watching from a fairly safe distance back. He can see Chava much closer to 'it' but doesn't react yet, maybe this thing is here to sell sea food to the land lubbers? Remy don't know.
As each decade passes, Scandal keeps finding herself thinking that there surely can't be *that* many things left in the world that can come as complete surprises to her… but this is not something she has ever encountered outside the pages of some of her guiltily lowbrow relaxation-reading. Thus, she comes to a complete halt and simply *stares* for a few moments, her thoughts flicking to her acquaintance Mera to wish that the marine-focused foreigner were here to offer some sort of insight.
While the thought of a seafood selling giant squid might be funny, the thing isn't armed with a food cart or carryable stand to sell sunglasses. Neither does it wear a trenchcoat to sell watches or be a secet pervert. No, it's just a van sized purple thing with about much too many shapeless tentacle arms, huge yellow eyes and a beak large enough to bite off an arm. And Chava seems to only be able to engage in a staredown with the thing.
Somewhere on someone's computer a message pops up: The forgotten Beast Solamir has come! A great purple Octopus. It has a pair of fan-like antennae and it squirms and fidgets. Beware it's Poisonous bite.
Remy turns his head long enough to pluck the cigarette out from between his lips and then toss it into a filthy discarded paint bucket resting a few feet away that is halfway filled with nasty grimy water.
He then turns back tot he oceanic show that they're being given and his right half-gloved hand raises up to stroke his hood off of his mop of long and slightly tossled brown hair. With an exhale, Remy turns and walks a few steps closer to 'the show' and then calls out to the girl, Chava. "'Ey, girly!" He starts, trying to get her attention as he motions to the beast. "That thing don't look too friendly, Ah suggest ya get some distance. Ah think its definitely not here t'adverise for a new seafood chain openin' up around 'ere!"
Inside his left pocket, Remy's thumb is struking over a deck of cards, already fanning them out one by one into a perfect half-circle formation.
Scandal's first impulse is to hang back and observe. Her second impulse is to let the arrogant man who addresses a (presumed) stranger as 'girly' get himself deep into tentacular trouble. Then she *sighs* quietly to herself, grimacing as she remembers the requirement to defend the city and its residents from unconventional perils. And that newcomer certainly does count as unusual…
Thus, she glances around for any *other* threats, before starting forward as well - moving lightly and quickly, fingers flexing in readiness to bring forth the Lamentation Blades should they be required.
The beast turns to the source of noise, one of the huge eyes focussing on Remy, the staring right into his soul, or so to say. Then one of the arms leashes out after his feet, trying to entangle him possibly while a second one moves after the source of movement - Scandal. The underside of the arms isn't armed with suction caps, that much everybody easily can see as they leash out. No, instead it's hooked spikes… or are those fangs?
Chava swallows, but then the thing seems to be occupied with the other two and she slowly backs away some feet, slowly, staring, not daring to do quick movements…
When the tentacle with the spiky accessories lashes out at HIM, Gambit makes for a high jump to avoid it. Planting one foot onto a cement chunk to his left he uses his thigh muscles to launch himself up into the air before he comes down with his cards out in one hand and an extended combat staff in the other. "I do not consent to you touchin' me." He tells the beast, whether it can hear him or not.
"Mind your manners, no?" And with that, a single card is pulled from the deck and brought to the forefront of his fingers, between middle and index. He cocks his arm and launches the card just as it ignites into a brilliant bright ball of purpley pink energy, headed for that beast's eyeball!
That Scandal is not exactly *conventionally* human becomes clear when, from a standing start, she flips up and over 'her' tentacle - somersaulting like an Olympic gymnast on a sprung floor. When she lands, she tugs the sleeves of her coat up each arm - to give the garment *some* chance of surviving, as she brings the Lamentation Blades into play. Two long silver spurs erupt into view from the bracer on the right, while a trio of short, broad blades sprout around her left hand. She snarls, darting a glance to Chava to check on her safety, before refocusong upon the *thing* and whatever it is that the man is doing with his strange projectiles.
As the purple flame detonates in front of the eyeball, the thing shrieks up, the beak opening and spraying some goopy green substance over the concrete as it makes the air shiver with its high pitch tune. Then a triplet of Tentacles tries to strike after Remy, blindly flailing, but they are well coordinated among each other, the sharp talons hissing in the air. And as Scandal darts closer and closer, another pair leashes out after her, leaving the thing with three to keep the shapeless body steady on the concrete floor…
Chava seems quite safe, but suddenly reaches out, pointing at Remy and tugging the arm back, tugging at his coat over the relative short distance, trying to get him out of the way of one of the arms leashing after him.
Out of his peripheral vision, Gambit can see that there's another person here that seemed to be a capable fighter, so thats good… maybe? Scandal is witnessed at least. But there be bigger Octopi to Fry here today.
When the additional attacks come, post that gross barfing onto the shore, Remy does a series of backward jumps, nimble and experienced, then Chava helps him avoid another and he glances over to her. "Much'a thanks." He says with a huff of exhale. "I'm not so sure this thing be here for any good reasons. Either we kill it, or we make for the hills. I got no horse in dis race after all." He is amped up and ready to fight if needs be, but there don't seem to be a real need TO fight this thing. Either way, his bo-staff is spun in a flourish and a pair of cards dance around the deck in his hand, his expertise in shuffling unparalleled…
The explosion was surprising enough, even before the vomiting followed. Scandal tries slashing when she flips over one and then rolls under the next - putting a good portion of her strength into it. Rather to her surprise, the appendage parts completely… though she continues her motion, not wanting to try to grab it: avoiding being clobbered or grabbed is far more appealing than immediately securing a sample for analysis.
The cut off arm sprays dark purple liquid over the concrete, some exposed steel starting to hiss as the stuff it has for blood violently reacts with it. The monster shrieks again at the assault it had to endure, retargeting its attacks at the elusive Scandal, putting most of its arms it doesn't need to keep itself up on the concrete into trying to get a hold of her… but also leaving itself up for attacks from the others this way.
Chava nods to Remy, pulling a reel of fishing line from her pocket finally, slipping a finger into a loop before throwing the reel like a yoyo, unreeling it past the thing before starting to curve the movement to try to encircle it's head…
Remy watches the sword fighter down by the beast chop off an arm and he winces at the reaction of it. "That look painful." He quietly says about it as its purple blood spills onto the shoreline.
As he prepares to throw another handful of cards he notices the line and reel from Chava and he cracks a grin at her. "I'm no sure there's a tank readily available for a pet'a this magnitude, Chere. But… good luck with that."
With that said, the Cajun dips forward and sends out a fanning throw of eight individual cards that all scream like bottle rockets through the air as they zip toward the beast and detonate in quick succession of one another, a stunning display, meant to disorient the creature and hopefully slow its attacks, or make them even less accurate.
Having secured a sample, and lacking anything so potent as explosive the throwing-whatever-they-ares employed by the Cajun, Scandal is quite willing to revert to a more defensive mode, backing up somewhat and only slicing and dicing as tentacles are sent her way - letting the thing use its own strength to reduce its armament seems only sensible, after all. Her own style continues to be gracefully acrobatic, though the maneuvers performed are often of a style no mundane human could pull off without (at least) a run-up. Confident in her ability to remain unharmed, she expects the octopoid intruder to retreat… especially once it loses parts of a second and then a third tentacle.
The fishing line homes back between the explosions, which lead to the beast more flailing than actually giving aimed strikes hitting the mixer of Scandal's blades. It's like a cook making fried octopus rings in giant size, the lamentation blades acting like a slicer dicer. Everywhere the purple blood ends on the concrete while the fining line starts to pull tight around the monsters body, slowly necking the mallable body where it makes contact. The 'head' bulges up, starting to take the shape of one of these bottle gourds while the monster shrieks painfully…
Then the skin rips as the pressure under the transparent nylon becomes too much. More of the purple blood gushes out as the line starts to cut the beast like hot butter, Chava having the eyes closed, the arms pulling at something that isn't really connected but for the loose hanging end of line that cnnects the cutting loop to her hand. Clearly she's exerting quite some energy there… but in the short term they end with a pile of cut up octopode…
As the beast starts to come apart… Remy's telescoping baton is twirl and then closes up on itself and he slides it back into a pocket on the side of his leather trench coat. His left hand swipes the playing cards back into a stack and he puts them away again… his weight shifts from one booted foot to the other and he glances from the girl with the sword, to the one with the deadly fishing technique. "Remind me not t'get on any'a your bad sides, no?" He states then before he looks back to the Kraken and then has a grossed-out expression fall across his unshaven face. "T'ink I'll have chicken tonight, not so much in the mood for fish no mo'e." The Cajun'll start to turn then and go back on about his way, his motorcycle isn't too far away, just on the other side of a small park. He doesn't ask for names, doesn't offer his own. Best not to know, is his usual angle.
More than a little concerned by the prospect of a detonating monster, Scandal responded to the compression of the octopus by hurrying to put as much distance between herself and it as she could. Consequently, she winds up close enough to offer Remy a surprised, wry smile… before nodding warily to Chava. "I have the impression that I was quite redundant here," she says dryly. With the man departing, she focuses chiefly upon the woman. "You are unharmed?"
"Oh, just make sure to keep away from the punishers or purifiers or whatever name they take and we're cool…" the young woman answers to the Cajun with a weak smile, backing away some before collapsing onto some untainted concrete. "No… you did chop it up like a mixer… and Yea, I'm ok… I need a new reel of fishing line… and a break though…" Chava answers to Scandal as she voices her concearn.