exsiliumlogs | monsters and the kids who become them and the people who fight them

monsters and the kids who become them and the people who fight them

Date & Time: 9/2 – 9/12, various times
Location: All throughout the city
Characters: See tags
Summary: A lot of people have to put up with an increasingly unstable kid
Warnings: Fightytimes violence, body horror, dead things

IN THE FAR-REACHING FUTURE OF AN ALT-EARTH, MONSTER-BASED ATTACKS ARE CONSIDERED ESPECIALLY RIDICULOUS. IN EXSILIUM, THE DEDICATED TRANSPORTS WHO ENDURE AND INVESTIGATE THESE VICIOUS HAPPENINGS ARE MEMBERS OF AN ELITE SQUAD KNOWN AS EXTRA-UNLUCKY BASTARDS.

THESE ARE THEIR STORIES.

The following threads coincide with the established timeline posted here and are arranged chronologically for participants' use if need/want be.

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The sound became a scream of panic and fury, blood boiling over. Why wouldn't it go away. Again and again, he conjured, less focus on aim and more on quantity, the force pushing him backward faster and farther, only encouraging him more. His head swam with the stupor of it all, in better states of mind it would've been nauseating, but with how he'd been feeling, such a state was welcome.

So die, go away, DIE.

Bariyan forced his way through the barrage, one step at time.

What had he said, the first time they'd met? (A strike past his side.) You're going to be a problem. (Through the collarbone, this time. The lance shattered.) And Martin had been a problem but, oh, children always were-- (A point, rapidly approaching his eyes. Bariyan dodged that one.) --Martin couldn't be blamed. (Ripping through his left arm.) Not for his father's death. (Driving into his leg.) Not for his sister's possession. (Another one through the ribs.) Not for this. (A last one. Splintering through the shoulder.)

Bariyan pushed through and held his hand out to Martin, again.

"Are you done now?" he asked. Quiet, without blame.

It might have felt a relief, conjuring, but he couldn't do it forever. Lances fell to dust, the backlash only adding to the filth building up within and without.

He couldn't keep it up forever, but this...this shape, this thing...It wouldn't go away.

Despair. Fear.

The next lance was pointed down, sending Martin into the air. He twisted, tucking and rolling as he landed, scrambling to his feet and running.

Bariyan slammed a hand forwards. His fingers closed on empty air, too slow to stop Martin from escaping. And his body now too broken to give chase.

He ran after Martin anyways, staggering out of the alley as he feet sought new balance, trying to readjust to torn muscles and broken bones. But Martin was moving much faster than him now -- always had -- and he soon lost sight of the boy.

Bariyan stopped, momentarily. He swayed on his feet and fell back against the nearest wall, hanging his head in despair.

"God-- damn-- it--"

Even though Bariyan had not outright asked for help, Koltira had every intention of following through on his earlier promise. He would do what he could, though his efforts so far had yielded little results. True, he had managed some protection of both the boy and those he encountered, but this situation needed a permanent solution. He didn't know what that was yet, and he was trying not to contemplate the obvious.

Instead, he focused on what seemed useful--finding the child, finding Bariyan. He was relieved when he came upon the latter, albeit not very. The extent of the man's wounds was obvious at a distance, and horrific up close. Somehow the lack of blood made Bariyan's punctured body more unnerving; his exposed innards were all in place, but dry, clean and alien. If Koltira were not a walking horror himself, he might have been disturbed.

As it stood, he was just alarmed, more because of what the injuries meant than anything else. The child had to be close by.

"Bariyan!" he called. "Which way?!"

Ashraf isn't far behind Koltira, looking grim. If Martin has been found, if he's near — then there's going to have to be a decision made. Maybe Bariyan isn't the man to make it, maybe it will have to fall to others, but Martin has to be stopped—

—And that's when he actually sees Bariyan. He stops dead, eyes widening, shifting immediately into horror. He's a priest, healing is what he does — and as such, he's seen an awful lot of damage. But nothing like this.

Koltira can handle the boy. Ashraf won't be much help there, he's only a priest. So he makes for Bariyan instead, trying to bite back the horror. He can't heal him, but maybe he can do something.

Bariyan raised his head at the new arrivals, staring blankly at the two of them, hazily wondering where they had come from and what they were asking of him. He only fully registered the situation when Ashraf came towards him.

He pushed himself back off the wall, trying to avoid the priest. But his legs were still shaky and he staggered into Koltira instead.

"No," he growled, pushing himself back off. "I don't--" --need you, he meant to finish, but ran out of energy.

He allowed a moment to steady himself before he set off again, heading around the corner that Martin had disappeared behind. A part of him realized that that was hardly enough to convince Koltira and Ashraf to stay away. But the rest of him was too fixated on Martin to even think about anything else.

The city was a rat maze, too similar at every turn to recognize where he'd been and not been. It wasn't far away he found nothing but walls greeting him, no way out but up. His palms ran up the brick and metal, claws curling and seeking out handholds, finding none...And it was so tall, all the way up...

Trapped! His body shook with terror, feeling the taste of bile fill his mouth again. Thoughtlessly, he cried out, horrified by the loud echo he caused and shrank down, burying his head into his knees.

I don't know what to do. Help. Help.

He wasn't surprised, or, by this point, particularly bothered by the reaction. Instead of saying anything, Koltira just followed Bariyan grimly, his jaw set, his mouth a thin, weary line. He's convinced that some small hope does exist here, that if they can just get Martin to keep still long enough for Bariyan to reach him, the situation will change.

Mostly convinced, anyway.

The sight of Bariyan forcing himself to continue on after Martin is somehow even worse. He blanches, tosses a glance at Koltira— and follows. There's little else to do, squeamishness be damned. He casts a round of magic over them all as he goes, sparing Bariyan the blessing (no promises that one will go well), but otherwise looking to ensure they'll be prepared for whatever they finally catch up to.

Bariyan rolled to a stop when they had caught up, maintaining a distance after seeing that the boy was curled up again. Oh, he hated that. He hated that this was happening. He hated every moment of this situation. He hated.

He looked up at the buildings they were surrounded by, trying to determine where Martin would run next, where he would go. But was there any point? Martin was hardly acting rationally, and Bariyan was too sick with despair to think clearly.

"Go," he said, without looking back at Koltira or Ashraf. There was no force behind the word.

He swept forwards.

Martin dared to peek out past his arm and saw the tiny army of shapes moving toward him. His breath hitched, then started up in panicked gasps, his body curling tighter until it hurt too much. He twisted out of his hunched-up state, palms smacking at the ground and the wall behind him to find his bearings and a means to his feet.

They were bigger than him, and they were going to kill him because he looked like a monster. That's all there was to it. His eyes darted around and up again, desperate for escape. It's too high!

But he had to get away.

He went up, launched by conjuring directly at the ground, and scrambled, clawing at the high wall until he could hang on long enough to plant his feet. Another lance sent him soaring over and past the trio to a heavy landing beyond, giving him open space to run. The weapon was dust raining down on them as he fled.

Koltira raised his runeblade, using it as a shield against the crumbling remains of Martin's lance. He frowned after the boy, but did not make to move just yet. He well knew what Martin thought of him, and what his reaction might be if Koltira made any aggressive moves. He planned to hang back, far enough to be hidden, and to reveal himself only as a means to push the child closer to Bariyan. An understanding between them was his final, desperate hope.

Ashraf moves quickly, with an eye for the long-practiced obstruction of enemies. He charts Martin's progress overhead, doing no more than wincing at the fall of dust, and as soon as the boy hits the ground, casts his spell at Martin.

The reverse of the spell of agility he'd just cast on the small group, this one will slow Martin's movements and dull his reflexes. There's no physical harm done, just a sense of lethargy.

She's been searching for Bariyan more or less since he called her, out quartering the town relentlessly. He may not want help, but she's not simply going to stand aside while he's trying to do something by himself. That's not how teamwork goes, in her head.

She wasn't expecting to come around a corner to this particular scene. For a moment she freezes, categorizing information. Ashraf, Koltira, Bariyan - Bariyan injured, shit, no. After that moment she moves, tries to set herself in front of Martin's path.

Bariyan ducked under the runeblade instinctively, barely noticed when Ros arrived to put herself between the rest of the group and the boy. His thoughts were elsewhere. Lines unfolded out of Bariyan's memory, shaky, forming streets and landmarks in his mind's eye. He didn't know this part of the city as well as he knew others, but he knew it well enough....

He pushed past Roslyn and looked down the street at Martin. The boy was headed back towards the tower. If they could chase him down that way, force him left, that would bring them behind the tower. Into a little section of street that ended at an iron fence, and was blocked off on one side by the back of a building, on the other by tower itself.

Would that be enough to keep him trapped? What other avenue of escape would there be? Something that Bariyan would have to contemplate on the way.

He snapped back to attention to stare at the others, as if seeing them for the first time.

"Ros?" He looked at her. "You shouldn't be here." The irritation with which he'd greeted Ashraf and Koltira was not entirely gone, still detectable in his scowl, and he turned it back on the two men as well. But they were here, now, and if they weren't going to leave--

"Ashraf, Koltira--" He turned, snapped their names, an unfamiliar edge in his voice. "--follow. Keep at a distance. If he jumps over us again it'll be up to you to block his path." And Bariyan was hoping that Martin still retained his mistrust and fear of Koltira -- that Koltira's presence might be reason enough to balk at fleeing his way.

"Ros--" Bariyan was running before he had finished speaking, oblivious to his injuries, moving fast in spite of them. "--stay close behind me!"

One more chance, then. Once more.

Gentle as the spell was, it was fire in Martin's blood, and feeling his body fail to react to suit was infuriating. For as slow as his legs lumbered, he felt his heart was ready to explode out of his chest and beat him the rest of the way. Way where? He had no semblance of direction anymore. Shapes and horrible feelings and the absence of smell he knew he ought to have...And fire. Fire.

Staggering, screaming and moaning in fear and frustration, Martin almost doesn't see the woman in his way before he'd practically barreled into her. Or...hadn't that happened already? He couldn't think. The shape was something else. He was already safe?

No.

No, there was more in the way. The sounds tapered to loud wheezing, feeling the screaming fatigue in his limbs and the buzzing in his head. He needed to stop, but doing that was going to get him killed. No matter how much he deserved it (he knew), he was still afraid (all the more reason, really).

He stared dumbly at the new walls, eyes darting faster than his body could turn and move. No, no, no!

Wordlessly, Koltira did as he was told. He was accustomed both to issuing and receiving orders, and he accessed that part of himself now, the man capable of a single-minded focus on the task at hand. He waited several beats of time before following Bariyan and Roslyn, and even then he moved at a deliberate pace. If necessary, he could grant himself--and Ashraf--the speed to catch up. For now, though, he meant to stay as far away as possible.

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monsters and the kids who become them and the people who fight them

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