Post by Caedan on Aug 19, 2008 0:05:08 GMT -5
the hanging corpse tavern tables, chairs, and assorted odds and ends turn demonic after evil wile curses them. caed's done her best to keep them in check, but some have escaped onto the unassuming streets of vailkrin ....
Leoxander was another shadow on the streets of Vailkrin. The tavern tempted him, he felt far too sober considering the hour of the day, and still his approach was not the determined walk of a patron ready to enter. His hands were in his pockets, he wouldn't assume anyone else was there. Caedan's scent might come downwind moments later, but for now he was lost in thought, burdened with an unseen weight on his shoulders and wearing an expression of uncertainty beneath a day's growth of facial hair.
Caedan's back is against the door, and she's got a wary expression on her face and a sword in one hand. Something clatters down the street, something coming closer and closer; she shrinks into a shadow and watches a table pass, chasing a rat down the main walkway, wooden splinters left in its wake as it chomps and clomps its way onward. After another minute, a chair appears as well, clattering just as loudly after the table, with a spoon sticking out of its 'mouth'. The psychic huffs a sigh and peers out of the dark, making sure that's the last of the wooden parade before she goes after it.
Caedan has hopefully not ducked into Leo's shadow; nothing like surprising a werewolf.
Leoxander heard something that caught his attention. At first, he suspected the sound was coming from the teenager, because on a first glance that was who he looked up to notice. But his steps paused as he noticed something pass by loudly, and he looked over his shoulder to realize... it's a table. A double glance, behind then forward, and he eases toward a wall as he notices the wooden chair clattering by. Bringing up the rear of this march is the psychic, and without speaking a word to draw attention, he lifts two fingers and settled them between his canine eye teeth to whistle out.
Caedan abruptly halts as she hears the whistle ... and so do the chair and table. The teen's hand tightens on the hilt of her sword until she recognizes the presence of Leo, like he would her scent. She waves enthusiastically into the darkness and smiles through pursed lips before turning back to the demonic furniture, now back tracking down the street -- towards them. "Sven's sake," she mutters through gritted teeth and disappears down an alley opposite of the lycan. Moments later, she'll appear at his side, making only enough noise as she needs to not be eaten, and peer around his leather-clad figure to steal a glance at the wooden army now beginning to search the alleyways for signs of life.
Leoxander said, "This is new..." He'd mutter it, actually, pacing back into the cover of shadows with his back to a door. A glance around it, and he'd give the possessed furniture a wary glance, while hearing her movement near from the opposite side. Only one question could cover the basics, and he'd keep his voice a hoarse whisper just in case the chair had 'ears' as well as a 'mouth'. "The hell's goin' on?"
Caedan said, "Fork!" She waves frantically behind the werewolf, where a fork is trying to stab him in the foot. Meanwhile, the table's caught on by now and is shuffling its way towards the alley. As it turns the corner, the teen will use the chair to vault over it -- somehow without losing her foot to the crunching jaws of the thing -- and land with her back to Leo, where she'll make petty swipes at the table to hold it at bay. A contingent of silverware is approaching from the other end of the alley, along with a few chairs which they use as small catapults to launch themselves closer. Pretty soon the duo will be in range. The teen jabs at her end a few more times and then shoves her elbow towards the lycan's side, none too gently. "We need to go up. Up up up. Then find fire. Up first."
Leoxander thought the teenager was using curse words she probably shouldn't, at first. But then he noticed her gesturing, and looked down in time to see the silverware pick itself up and drill right for his ankle. The only reason he wasn't impaled in a that tender point at the back of his foot was the fact he was wearing laced up boots that reached to the bottom of his legs. "Damn!" An arm caught hold of her and without much regard to tossing her about, he'd yank her out of the way of a chair that lurched itself right for the psychic. He didn't often argue the words of the Ghost Lady, so when she suggested up, his head tilted back to see what there was to offer, in the means of escape. That's when he noticed the rope dangling out of the window from the Den of Thieves. Grabbing hold of her elbow, he'd hook her arm around his waist and suggest darkly. "Hold on." Lycan strength was the only reason he was able to grab hold of Caedan and take her with. Rushing along the edge of the wall, the rogue wrapped an arm around her waist and as though she was a body needed for evidence, he carried her with through a crouch and a jump that had him hitting the side of the wall heavily. One free hand managed to grab hold of the end of that rope, and while they were both dangling with a mob of angry furniture beneath them, he'd encourage her in a bark. "Climb!"
Though Leo wouldn't see her, she'd close her eyes and smile as they breezed up the side of the building, paying little heed to the danger of their current situation; she loved the feel of wind on her face. A very soothing calm falls over her until the command is barked, and jolts her from her momentary reverie. She does start to climb, daintly stepping on the lycan's shoulder until she notices a glint of silver in the air. In a split second it thuds into the wooden ledge just above her head, taking a curl or two with it and pinning it there, like a momento left for a lover. Soon, more silverware is sailing towards them, and the teen will turn, still balancing with one leg on the lycan's shoulder, and the other one hitched on his hip, to thwart the barrage with her sword. Forks and knives rip their way into the side of the building; Caedan's clearing as many of them as she can, trying to keep the majority away from the tattoo'd arm holding them above the fray below. A fork punctures the bicep of her sword-wielding arm and she gasps, "Oh, you ball-less son of a motherless goat-herding landlubber!"
Leoxander squinted his eyes as Caedan's foot found it's hold on his shoulder, and inappropriately, he'd give her backside a shove to keep her in momentum. Up, as she willed it. A clang of forks and spoons and even a few knives on brick caused him to duck and cringe while dangling from the end of the worn rope cut short, and he witnessed the determined fork that landed right in her flesh with a wince. "Go, GO!" He tried to encourage her toward that window and out of the barrage of utensils, but not before several had landed in his back like darts in a dartboard target, causing him to tilt his head back with a yell and a display of teeth too long to belong to a human. By that point, if she was too busy hollering to get herself moving and inside, Leo would quite literally hoist and shove her up the rest of the way, until they were tumbling onto a second story floor, with shards of a broken window raining in behind them. If only he'd left it open a crack...
Caedan said, "I am not for dinner." She's up and into the window now, shaking bits of glass from her hair, and maybe one or two from her head. The teen stands, abruptly thinks better of it, and flattens herself to the floor again, just as a spoon comes whizzing in and embeds itself into the doorframe of the room. She shoots Leo a nonplussed glance and shrug nonchalantly, "They couldn't fly before. I am really not for dinner. Hmmph." She's concerned about the fork stuck in her arm, eyeing it coldly, seemingly oblivious to the full set tucked in Leo's back. At least they stop being sentient when they hit their target ... she thinks. The psychic edges towards Leo, partly to keep him down -- because he doesn't know what's headed into the room, at least in her mind -- and partly to help pluck the utensils from his back, commenting grumpily, "And though I hear you can eat dogs, you are not for dinner either. The nerve. Udder-licking fu--" A thud interrupts her, three times in succession, and the clatter below dies down. She takes a second to explain, "Well. That fellow was in here, the one with all the cards and tricks and silver. I came down -- was in the Pool you know, filthy thing -- and the furniture was trying to kill people. I really tried to keep them from going outside, but people kept running away, and took all the stuff with them. Dirty thieves." An apologetic look shot at the back of his head. "Fire helps, mostly. But I'm afraid if we burn them to ashes, they'll become ghost furniture."
Leoxander is quick to act, quick to move, and he's on top of Caedan's lithe frame in a way that is more protective than anything else. Her words are offered a dirty look... as somehow, she got him into this mess while he was minding his own business. She has the same idea, crawling toward him, and together they duck the hail of silverware that seems to steer itself into an open, broken window. He abruptly grasps the handle of the fork in her arm when she is near enough, and whether she busies herself with the dinner set impaled a half of an inch into his back or not, he suddenly yanks the pronged instrument out of her arm before she can protest or anticipate it. The wound will bleed, but he's already pressing a piece of stripped cloth against it, dug from one of many handy pockets. "Watch your mouth, Lady." He reminds to the remark of thieves. "What 'fellow' started all this? Whoever did can likely end it."
Caedan tosses Leo a dirty look, and not just because of the fork yanked unceremoniously out of her arm. "Who do you think?" She rolls her eyes in the direction of the room perpendicular to this, with the bed and the bath, and the man with the cards, the one Tenebrae fears so intensely. As he bandages her arm, she'll continue to pluck assorted cutlery from his back, struggling with an exceptionally well-lodged spoon; a foot against his back and a hard yank frees him of the utensil, and decorates her in a sudden spray of blood. "Oh, yuck," she groans, shoving a sleeve-covered arm against the wound and wiping her face against his back. Once her vision has cleared, she'll tentatively, and very slowly peek over the edge of the window at the entourage of possessed pieces of furniture scuttle down the street. "I think he can end it, but how many more people are going to be for dinner in the mean time? Fire. Fire slows them all down. Melts the nasty buggers." She flicks a fork out the window and sticks her tongue out after it. "Fire, and down down down."
Leoxander shakes off his body like a lycan, and appropriately, after a spray of blood, wounds close. He winces with no more than a grit of teeth, considering her words carefully. It seems to be a mystery in need of a solution, even if that meant a brutal end by his own clawed hands. Though currently, there are no claws, just dirt staining under blunt fingernails, which bite into palms when she removes the spoon. He curses loudly at the ache, and shrugs it off to turn toward her. Who did he think? He had a vague idea. "Stay out of trouble for the rest of the night, could you?"
Caedan salutes as a random fork whizzes by her head. "I'll batten down the hatches, Cap'n. If you find him, don't fight him on your own. And melt these ruttin' ..." she trails off as she exits the room, making sure to close the door tightly behind her, regardless of whether Leo's coming or going.
to be continued ...