Difference between revisions of "PART 2, Where do the bad ones go, and PART 3 - RPLOG"
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=Log= | =Log= | ||
| − | <div></div> | + | <div></div><br> <br>The rain falls fast and hard, but while the drops that fall no longer turn to ice just before hitting, they are still frigidly cold, the only grace being Randel. His face a work of concentration as he gently heats the area, bringing warmth to fight back while all around the broken glass sticking out of the street starts to cover with ice, rain falling in spattering sheets and trickling across the road where just outside your circle, it quickly freezes. The screams coming from that imposing building up the way are more gutteral now, some sounding like they're tortured, in extreme pain and suffering and others...well, you know that sound. You've heard it far too often not to realize that someone is in the throes of passion, the intense sensations of first mating in a new form. So very close to the sounds of madness. Ahead you see a watchtower, ice and frost clinging to the structure in heavy icicles, spikes that grow as you watch and the thunder rages overhead. Ice, Knives of Glass and unsure footing that is getting worse by the minute! The fire behind you was extinguished with the rain, and now the only light is what you carry with you, sometimes aided by lightning that burns your eyes when it fades, leaving you blind for just a few seconds each time...<br> <br>Narg is so very grateful to be immune to the cold as she warily continues her venture foreward with the rest of the group. Her finger ready to ire her pistol should she need to but off the trigger so she doesn't wind up being trigger happy.<br> <br>The large, obsidian scaled draconic beast is quite thermal resistant as well, but he does have the forethought to give whatever protection he has to offer. Given the bad terrain, he walks on all fours, thick mat-black crystalline-carbon armor and hide plating padding him from the jagged glass on the ground. He occasionally kicks and shakes a claw, throwing off stuck glass that's irritating him. A deep rumbling can be heard from him, his eyes focused ahead, dead set on stopping the madding screams. The rumbling is actually talking! "I see a red door and I want it painted black...No colors any more, I want them to turn black..." Those following behind, they get an unnerving sight between his legs. It appears that he's got a hard-on for battle, and those four things surely don't look like they are meant for love making. Those shafts look to be made out of the similar jagged obsidian casing that covers the rest of his large form.<br> <br>Cyrus noticing Epsilon's reaction to the cold and Randel's own radiant heat, Cyrus focuses her own abilities to expand her heat outward to aid her allies and combat the growing cold. It, however, is difficult for her to focus too much with her mind so shaken by the situation, heat rolling off her body in uncontroled waves and spikes, the matter only becoming more difficult as she sees Randel getting onto his fours, but her mind quickly becomes focused on his erect cock. Though terrified, she cannot bring herself to remove her eyes from the length. Perhaps a blessing, distracting her from her fear, or perhaps just heat overriding her already feeble mind into something more primal. <br> <br>Seguro shakes hir camouflaged gleaming wings, trying to shake them free from the buildup of ice, the dragon begins to grumbles under hir breath. "This form of mine is hardly suited for the cold weather, wait�c I�c could. "The dragon's scales begin to suddenly shift, prickling, shivers and finally puckers, a thin mist of frost rising from its surface before it finally solidifies over the dragon's hide. Shortly after, feathers of various lengths start sprouting from the dragon's new, icy skin, catching the light in all sorts of interesting and beautiful ways. The dragon begins to chuckles. "This will work, but I hate feathers." The dragon's gaze returns to watching, hir sun hued eyes scanning the streets below, searching for anything of note that may be of use to hir team.<br> <br>Seguro's skin becomes that of an Icy Phoenix.<br> <br>Benjamin grunts as he pulls himself through a tight squeeze under a tipped vending machine that was blocking the back entrance, the building he had taken shelter in was slowly flooding and he wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Once through he pulls the heavy cloak tightly over himself trying to shield himself against the cold. The catboi sighs and looks about for another option for shelter and spots the group moving through the streets. The large form of Randel gave him cause for pause, but the others around him seemed too well equiped to be feral and he walks carefully closer. "Hey... Friendly?"<br> <br>From some secluded spot nearby, Thelergramor approaches the group of agents. The arctic fox has his SV-98 bolt action rifle in hand; is less than concerned by the 'monster' that has been tearing through the area. The sounds from the building, the tortured ones, are met with some disgust from the fox. His scarf is pulled up over his muzzle as he speaks to the group. The cold mans barely warmed by the heat; his naturally low temperature body clashing with the aura from Randel. "Alright. What's going on here?" The fox sounds tired; he corrects himself: "I mean, what are you here for?" The rain not bothering him in the slightest. As he wears no shoes, Thel tries to keep his distance from the glass when he can.<br> <br>The wind and cold blow through, gently ruffling your cloaks while the Nanites in the area agitate under the influence of both Cyrus and Randels efforts, warming everyone one and everything in the area. The distracting noise of whistles and grunts, shivering howls rising from different spots around as enemies forget what they were fighting for and huddle for warmth in the buildings, the young at the center of large mounds of shifting fur, trying to find the center while not being crushed. You see one such pile on the main floor of the building on the street opposite the open gate, eyes looking at you with fear, and only a half-hearted snarl here and there, mostly envy and whines for help from the ferals. The Watches on all your comms beep twice with the hour-chime, telling you it's 9pm on the second of September, and sounding deadly loud in the dark, noise stopping from everywhere at once. The only sound now, is the deathly quiet murr of the icy wind, striking the ice on the glass and making it crinkle with the sounds of crystal ice, ringing and marvelous as music itself. The Watchtower through the gate of the factory, just past the sign, looks abandoned, the rain that fell so heavily and briefly has coated it with thick icicles, daggers that seem to all be flowing toward the far wall, where the wind whipped them. The upper floor shows a very, very faint light, and shadows dancing behind it, maybe a gas light?<br> <br>Narg makes sure that as she approaches that she doesn't get underneath any dangerous looking icicles. Her eyes glance on up towards the light in the window howecer nand wits for the rest to catch up... the husky not paying much attention to Thel while there are more important things to take care of, most notably the goal ahead. The ferals nearby get a gentle nod but little else. She doesn't have anything offer them, having planned for an engagement not aid. |
Revision as of 05:35, 4 September 2014
Participants
Date
4/9/2014
Log
The rain falls fast and hard, but while the drops that fall no longer turn to ice just before hitting, they are still frigidly cold, the only grace being Randel. His face a work of concentration as he gently heats the area, bringing warmth to fight back while all around the broken glass sticking out of the street starts to cover with ice, rain falling in spattering sheets and trickling across the road where just outside your circle, it quickly freezes. The screams coming from that imposing building up the way are more gutteral now, some sounding like they're tortured, in extreme pain and suffering and others...well, you know that sound. You've heard it far too often not to realize that someone is in the throes of passion, the intense sensations of first mating in a new form. So very close to the sounds of madness. Ahead you see a watchtower, ice and frost clinging to the structure in heavy icicles, spikes that grow as you watch and the thunder rages overhead. Ice, Knives of Glass and unsure footing that is getting worse by the minute! The fire behind you was extinguished with the rain, and now the only light is what you carry with you, sometimes aided by lightning that burns your eyes when it fades, leaving you blind for just a few seconds each time...
Narg is so very grateful to be immune to the cold as she warily continues her venture foreward with the rest of the group. Her finger ready to ire her pistol should she need to but off the trigger so she doesn't wind up being trigger happy.
The large, obsidian scaled draconic beast is quite thermal resistant as well, but he does have the forethought to give whatever protection he has to offer. Given the bad terrain, he walks on all fours, thick mat-black crystalline-carbon armor and hide plating padding him from the jagged glass on the ground. He occasionally kicks and shakes a claw, throwing off stuck glass that's irritating him. A deep rumbling can be heard from him, his eyes focused ahead, dead set on stopping the madding screams. The rumbling is actually talking! "I see a red door and I want it painted black...No colors any more, I want them to turn black..." Those following behind, they get an unnerving sight between his legs. It appears that he's got a hard-on for battle, and those four things surely don't look like they are meant for love making. Those shafts look to be made out of the similar jagged obsidian casing that covers the rest of his large form.
Cyrus noticing Epsilon's reaction to the cold and Randel's own radiant heat, Cyrus focuses her own abilities to expand her heat outward to aid her allies and combat the growing cold. It, however, is difficult for her to focus too much with her mind so shaken by the situation, heat rolling off her body in uncontroled waves and spikes, the matter only becoming more difficult as she sees Randel getting onto his fours, but her mind quickly becomes focused on his erect cock. Though terrified, she cannot bring herself to remove her eyes from the length. Perhaps a blessing, distracting her from her fear, or perhaps just heat overriding her already feeble mind into something more primal.
Seguro shakes hir camouflaged gleaming wings, trying to shake them free from the buildup of ice, the dragon begins to grumbles under hir breath. "This form of mine is hardly suited for the cold weather, wait�c I�c could. "The dragon's scales begin to suddenly shift, prickling, shivers and finally puckers, a thin mist of frost rising from its surface before it finally solidifies over the dragon's hide. Shortly after, feathers of various lengths start sprouting from the dragon's new, icy skin, catching the light in all sorts of interesting and beautiful ways. The dragon begins to chuckles. "This will work, but I hate feathers." The dragon's gaze returns to watching, hir sun hued eyes scanning the streets below, searching for anything of note that may be of use to hir team.
Seguro's skin becomes that of an Icy Phoenix.
Benjamin grunts as he pulls himself through a tight squeeze under a tipped vending machine that was blocking the back entrance, the building he had taken shelter in was slowly flooding and he wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Once through he pulls the heavy cloak tightly over himself trying to shield himself against the cold. The catboi sighs and looks about for another option for shelter and spots the group moving through the streets. The large form of Randel gave him cause for pause, but the others around him seemed too well equiped to be feral and he walks carefully closer. "Hey... Friendly?"
From some secluded spot nearby, Thelergramor approaches the group of agents. The arctic fox has his SV-98 bolt action rifle in hand; is less than concerned by the 'monster' that has been tearing through the area. The sounds from the building, the tortured ones, are met with some disgust from the fox. His scarf is pulled up over his muzzle as he speaks to the group. The cold mans barely warmed by the heat; his naturally low temperature body clashing with the aura from Randel. "Alright. What's going on here?" The fox sounds tired; he corrects himself: "I mean, what are you here for?" The rain not bothering him in the slightest. As he wears no shoes, Thel tries to keep his distance from the glass when he can.
The wind and cold blow through, gently ruffling your cloaks while the Nanites in the area agitate under the influence of both Cyrus and Randels efforts, warming everyone one and everything in the area. The distracting noise of whistles and grunts, shivering howls rising from different spots around as enemies forget what they were fighting for and huddle for warmth in the buildings, the young at the center of large mounds of shifting fur, trying to find the center while not being crushed. You see one such pile on the main floor of the building on the street opposite the open gate, eyes looking at you with fear, and only a half-hearted snarl here and there, mostly envy and whines for help from the ferals. The Watches on all your comms beep twice with the hour-chime, telling you it's 9pm on the second of September, and sounding deadly loud in the dark, noise stopping from everywhere at once. The only sound now, is the deathly quiet murr of the icy wind, striking the ice on the glass and making it crinkle with the sounds of crystal ice, ringing and marvelous as music itself. The Watchtower through the gate of the factory, just past the sign, looks abandoned, the rain that fell so heavily and briefly has coated it with thick icicles, daggers that seem to all be flowing toward the far wall, where the wind whipped them. The upper floor shows a very, very faint light, and shadows dancing behind it, maybe a gas light?
Narg makes sure that as she approaches that she doesn't get underneath any dangerous looking icicles. Her eyes glance on up towards the light in the window howecer nand wits for the rest to catch up... the husky not paying much attention to Thel while there are more important things to take care of, most notably the goal ahead. The ferals nearby get a gentle nod but little else. She doesn't have anything offer them, having planned for an engagement not aid.
