exsiliumlogs | [open] CHRISTIAN BALE IS RUNNING FROM POLICEMEN ON YOUR STREET.

Entry tags:

[open] CHRISTIAN BALE IS RUNNING FROM POLICEMEN ON YOUR STREET.

Date & Time: backdated all the way back to 07/12
Location: ALL OVER THE GODDAMN CITY.
Characters: Corosa Nyem (

rorosa), any unfortunate soul he may run into on the way
Summary: Corosa arrives in Exsilium and realizes that he has been pulled INTO A BUILDING. AND THAT'S TERRIBLE. He immediately proceeds scream a lot and jump out the window to flee the city. HE MAY RUN RIGHT INTO YOU.
Warnings: idk he might shoot you too

[ OH COROSA IS SO OUT OF HERE.

Luckily for him, the window he'd escaped out of had been at ground-level. He'd hit the ground running. He's still running now, panting for breath, boots hitting hard and heavy against the pavement. Shoving past other pedestrians, through groups, across streets and, once, over the hood of a vehicle. (He may have bowled right over a small child a couple blocks back. Corosa kinda felt bad about that one, but not bad enough to stop and apologize. Oh well.)

He's drawn his gun, too, just... in case? Right. Just in case. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Zel is drawing a little map of the city in a notepad when his super-sensitive ears pick up the sound of extremely fast and rapidly approaching footsteps. He looks up from his work to see a man with a--what is that--definitely a weapon--running at him. His first instinct is to draw his sword because YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY HOSTILE, SIR, and he does.]

Stop.

[ Swordsmen. Like Corosa hasn't had to deal with enough of those in his lifetime. He stops when he sees drawn steel because, obviously, this man wants to stop him. God, why? What did Corosa do to him?

He levels his gun at Zel. ]

Just let me through. [ Wide-eyed, gasping for breath, teeth bared -- not exactly at his best, here. But the hand that holds the gun is steady and his gaze is unblinking. Corosa's a good shot. Even half-terrified and out of his mind. ]

[very calmly, despite the GUN POINTED RIGHT AT HIS FACE ...]

What are you running from? Why are you waving that [he gestures to the gun with his sword.] around?

I have. To get out of the city. [ Safety off, finger not quite on trigger yet. But getting there. ] I can't let anyone get in my way.

Are you going to move? [ He adjusts his aim and swallows. Come on, man, stop asking questions, just step away.... ]

['get in my way'? On its face, that talk sounds a little sinister, man.]

What did you do?

[ A short pause for confusion. ] I didn't do anything-- are you going to move?

[ SERIOUSLY, DUDE, GET OUT OF THE WAY. LAST CALL. ]

Then why are you in such a hurry?

[he ain't worried about the gun; he's worried about YOU, MAN ...]

[ Corosa doesn't even hear the answer. Oh God, fine, fine. Be that way. Corosa doesn't have time for this.

His aim, which has been steady and true this whole time, suddenly drops towards the ground, and he fires off what is supposed to be just a warning shot -- something to scare Zel off, get him out of Corosa's path. But panic, imbalance, and that last-minute shift in target introduces room for mistake in Corosa's aim and there's a chance that he pulls the trigger a little too early. While the muzzle is still pointed at Zel, perhaps. ]

[Thanks to Corosa's slippery fingers, the gunshot does indeed barrel right for Zel's chest. It burns through his tunic easily enough, but then it bounces off of his rock skin, falling to the pavement with a little metallic klink.]

That wasn't necessary.

[ The shock of having shot Zel -- not just having shot Zel, but having shot Zel in what should have been the vitals, and having it bounced off like nothing -- nearly overwhelms the shock of having been dragged into this city. So Corosa freezes.

He doesn't know what to do or say first. Most of him is still screaming to run away, part of him is desperately apologetic for having made an accidental attempt upon this man's life, and the rest of him is trying to figure out what just happened. ]

I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean-- [ Corosa starts to back away. All right, all right, he'll just find another way out of here. Without finishing his sentence, he suddenly turns tail and runs. ]

[Look, Zel is the first guy to understand false charges of suspicion--but something is definitely not right, to him, about Corosa. Thus, he gives chase:]

Ray Wing. [the spell grants him the ability to fly quickly after Corosa, which he does.]

If you're trying to get out of the city, the forest is that way. [he points, helpfully.]

[ FLYING. WHY. Corosa seriously cannot handle this shit right now. He nearly points his gun at Zel again before he remembers how well that had gone down-- and also before he realizes that, for whatever reason, the man's trying to help him.

But his paranoia is heightened, and he's immediately suspicious. He doesn't slow down any, and he doesn't change course. Instead he simply scowls back over his shoulder at Zel as he continues to flee. ]

Why are you telling me?

[Flying along after him.]

Well, first of all, you've got that weapon out and not everyone has skin like mine ...

[ Oh, that almost makes sense-- he wants Corosa out of the way. Well, Corosa's happy to oblige. His frown doesn't go away, though, and he continues harboring suspicions even as he finally veers off in the direction pointed out to him by Zel.

He doesn't put the gun away, either. ]

[well, that, and he's hoping you'll calm down enough to talk rationally once you're not in a populated area! Zel follows after him 'til they reach the first lines of trees.]

Feeling better yet?

[ Corosa almost runs into a tree, on purpose. He's just that glad to see some greenery.

But he manages to slow himself down so that he doesn't crash in headfirst, instead coming to a gentle halt with his shoulder leaning up against the tree. He pauses just long enough to draw breath, and listen to Zel. Unfortunately, he glances behind in the process, and sees the city still looming behind him. Still too close to comfort.

Corosa makes eye contact with Zelgadis. ]

How are you not hurt? [ The question is asked with a note of hysteria in his voice. He picks himself off the tree immediately afterwards and presses onwards, stumbling forwards. ]

[deep, healing breaths, Corosa! Zel's expression and tone are bitterly wry.]

My body is specially made.

[ Corosa keeps moving quickly, weaving through trees, dodging branches and roots along his way. He continues to cast glances behind him as he goes, but after a while it's not the city he's looking for -- it's Zel. Who, at this point, Corosa half-wants to get away from.

He'd shot the man... and the bullet had ricocheted off. Not because of armor.

Corosa finally stops walking to turn and face Zel. He doesn't raise his gun, but his trigger finger still itches. ]

What are you?

[they're well into the forest now, so Zel decides not to waste any more energy. He comes down to the ground and begins to walk, albeit at an unhurried pace; if Corosa wants to lose him, he can.]

Under a spell. My body is a chimera--part rock, part human, part demon. [he gestures to the stones encrusting his face.] My name is Zelgadis.

[ Corosa watches Zelgadis walk, and goes after him, though he's careful to keep his distance. Chimera, chimera.... huh. Zel doesn't look like a chimera. Not the sort that Corosa knows, anyway. ]

I didn't know that could happen. [ Corosa continues to stare after Zelgadis, curious and wary. But still too out-of-his-mind to think too deeply on this. ]

[definitely not the quite the same! Zel shrugs.]

Maybe it can't, where you're from. It's not all that common back home, either. But the man who cursed me to look like this was a powerful sorcerer.

Edited 2012-08-05 20:06 (UTC)

You were human once, though? [ Asked sharply. Corosa's suspicious, and uncomfortable. Demihumans have always made him uncomfortable. Neither human nor monster, always given him pause before firing the fatal shot....

He looks back for the city but by now, it's far enough behind that he can't see it through the trees That, at least, gives him cause for relief. ]

I still am human. [he groans in exasperation. At least this fella is relaxing a little.] It's just that my body isn't. I've been looking for a cure ever since it happened.

Hmm. [ Corosa scowls. 'Still human' -- he doesn't buy that entirely.

But, on the other hand, Zelgadis hadn't been lying about the way out of the city. And he hasn't attacked Corosa yet. Despite the fact that Corosa had attacked him.

That thought mellows him a bit. Corosa breathes in, then finally pauses to reholster his gun. ]

...Have you had any luck finding one?

[ The library here is terribly illuminating. There's so many years of history that Ashraf never could have imagined, so many wars between countries he's never heard of to learn about. It's fascinating. It's one of these books that he's currently flipping through as he heads down the street, paying partial attention to direction and surroundings. Well enough to get himself back to the Hold sooner or later, at least.

Unfortunately, not well enough to register that headlong dash of a particular Rune-Midgardian. Shame, that. It looks about like a collision course. ]

[ One awful collision coming to a pair of Rune-Midgardians near you!

Corosa's busy looking over his shoulder -- just in case a door is chasing him, or something -- and completely fails to notice that there's anything in his pass until it is, quite literally, in his nose. That is, he manages to turn just in time to run headfirst into Ashraf's left side.

Corosa loses balance, trips, and falls. There is a high chance that he brings Ashraf right down with him. ]

[ Well then, down he goes. The book flies out of his hands, and for one bizarre moment, as he topples over, he's more concerned about that than anything else. The book is only a loan, it can't get hurt.

But then he's hit the ground and had the breath knocked out of him, and there's a sprawling tangle of body coming down with him, and suddenly it seems like there's larger things to worry about.

He's squirming immediately, looking to clap a steadying hand on the man's shoulder. From the ground, yes. It's the thought that counts. ]

I'm sorry, I was-- are you alright?

[ Corosa makes a muffled noise somewhere into his own arm, then pulls away in preparation to get up and sprint off again. But in the process of doing so, he looks at the poor soul he'd run into. Hey, those clothes look familiar....

His eyes widen. ]

Priest?

[ He's surprised, at first. He'd grown so accustomed to seeing no sign of familiar uniforms that he'd stopped looking, and missed the coat of a gunslinger when it appeared. But then the face behind them sinks in, and surprise melts into shock. ]

Corosa? [ It's been years for him, but it's a name he's not likely to ever forget. ] My God, I— [ His eyes dart down unavoidably to the man's arm. ]

[ A name, a name, god damn it, names.... Oh, right. ]

Ashraf? [ Sounding just as shocked, really. The last thing he'd expected to see here was a familiar face. This is too much to handle all at once.

So Corosa finally gets back onto his feet and starts to retreat. ]

I... we.... [ Wait, why 'we'? Something's nagging at Corosa here, but he can't quite put his finger on it. Panic's getting in the way. ] I'm sorry. [ Still backing away. ] I have to get out of here.

[ He has too much dignity to scramble to his feet after Corosa, but it's a very near miss. He's stepping forward after him, a hand going to rest on his upper arm. Protectively, reassuringly, or maybe just to make sure he doesn't bolt. ]

Where? I have gathered a number of warps about the city, perhaps I can help. [ He's to hoping he doesn't mean back to Rune-Midgard, though. There's not much Ashraf can do to help with that one. ]

[ Corosa hears the word 'warps' and practically sags with relief. In this moment, right here, right now, he is nearly sick with gratefulness for priests. For Ashraf's very existence.

Except -- except it's possibly a little too early for relief just yet. Corosa stiffens again and fumbles with his gun to reholster it. That done, he clasps his hand over Ashraf's left shoulder. ]

Out. Out of the city. Can you do that? [ Corosa has to bite back a wretched 'please'. ]

[ Well, he definitely doesn't have any warps outside the city, what use would that be? But, after a moment of thought, he nods. ]

I have saved one toward the edge of the city.

[ Nevermind why he needs that, it's sort of a bizarre request... He lays a hand over Corosa's reassuringly, then steps away to cast his warp. A blue spinning light blossoms on the ground, and he waves his hand to gesture Corosa through it. ]

Go. I will follow after.

[ Corosa's already moving before Ashraf even tells him to, one foot already through the portal at the word 'go'. He's all but hurled himself through, fast enough to stumble when he lands on the other side. He trips, loses balance, falls again -- but is on his feet in seconds, once more dashing off. Out past the edge of the city, into the open road.

Only after a few solid minutes of running does Corosa finally slow and stop. He looks back, panting, eyes searching. Not for Ashraf, but for the city. ]

[ Ashraf isn't in sight behind Corosa. He'd followed through the portal after him, but he'd known with one look that he wouldn't be keeping up to a headlong dash like that. But still, there's no way that he's simply letting a man from his world go.

So he'd teleported. It's chancy, a risk that he won't appear in precisely the wrong direction, but in this case it's a gamble that pays off. Ashraf reappears behind Corosa, some 50 paces away, and starts toward him at a slower, more dignified pace, as soon as he spots him. ]

[ Well, there's Ashraf anyway. Suddenly standing between Corosa and the city. Corosa's eyes fix on him.

Reluctant to take even a step back towards Exsilium, Corosa doesn't move to close the gap, instead waiting for Ashraf to approach. Corosa reholsters his gun in the meantime. Then he looks a little more closely at the other. It is the acolyte, the one from the desert. Though it appears that he's aged some... and grew into a priest, to boot.

Corosa raises his hand to his head to rub at a temple. ]

How are you here?

[ As soon as he's near enough, Ashraf casts his customary small barrage of magic. A heal, in case Corosa has somehow managed to hurt himself. A blessing, a spell of speed. That one would have been given earlier, if only Corosa had stood still long enough for it. ]

[ When he's finished: ] The same way you are. We've been pulled through time and space, it seems, and brought here to fight another's battle.

[ A pause, and he awkwardly adds: ] Are you well?

[ Corosa takes heed of the wave of buffs and nods in cursory appreciation. ]

Yes, I'm fine.

[ Well, he is now. His gaze is still twitchy, constantly jumping from Ashraf to the trees to the horizon, as if he expects to see buildings grow out of ground any second now. But he is slowly calming down. Enough to focus on something that isn't the city's presence. ]

I don't understand. How... why? [ Corosa takes a deep breath. ] They could have asked, at least.

[ Now that he has the chance for it, he watches Corosa closely. He would have expected the man to change, but he's exactly as Ashraf remembers him. It makes him more than a little uncomfortable, to have memories of failure thrust so insistently into the forefront of his mind.

Fortunately, there are questions asked of him, and he can focus on that. ]

They do not ask. They bring us here to fight their war, and that seems to be the end of it.

[ Scowl. Corosa does not appreciate being told what to do. He has his own wants and needs to worry about, after all. Most of them having to do with staying the hell out the indoors. ]

Where is this, anyway? [ He tilts his head back to look around. Even the foliage seems strange to him. ] It's... not Rune-Midgard, is it.

No. This place is called England, as I understand it.

[ He glances around, spots a fallen tree, and starts toward it with a small gesture for Corosa to follow. ]

I've yet to meet another from Rune-Midgard. You're... a welcome sight. [ A guilt-inducing sight, but still a welcome one. ]

England. [ The name comes off his tongue strange and unfamiliar and extremely unhappy. There'd been plenty of things he hadn't liked about Rune-Midgard, but at least he knew Rune-Midgard. He was getting too damned old for change.

A sigh. He held his hand out to Ashraf. ]

You too. [ A long, heavy sigh. ] With any luck, they'll send more of us along. I don't see a priest and a gunslinger getting very far by themselves. [ a one-armed gunslinger. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] CHRISTIAN BALE IS RUNNING FROM POLICEMEN ON YOUR STREET.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

ten thousand years later

HEH HEH don't worry about it!! <3

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject