Difference between revisions of "PART 2, Where do the bad ones go, and PART 3 - RPLOG"
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=Log= | =Log= | ||
| − | <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. | + | <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.<br> <br>Randel slowly lumbers along, swivel-necking around, if only because he has no real target to throw himself at. When hearing the snarls and whines, he snaps his head to the source of the sound, and growls deeply. He's taken aback when seeing such a pile of pour creatures and before people realize it, they 'hear' something, and hear it very clearly in their minds. {{We are here to attack a bad creature. If you are brave enough, you can follow us and attack it as well. I will warm you as best as I can.}} It seems like he's talking to the ferals with the nanite telepathy. {{Obey us if you do follow. If you cannot obey, fuck off. You are useless to us}} Yeah, he is... It may be a waste of time, but he seems to value these crazed beasts to a large degree.<br> <br>Cyrus stares hungrily at Randel's brace of cocks, her hands slowly slipping away from Epsilon's form as she steps closer to the drake. The scent of her needy arousal rising off of her heated sex, nanites run amok as steam seems to literally rise from her slit as she steps closer, her massive hooves crushing glass and ice below as she moves closer. In the back of her mind, a rapidly shrinking point of rational thought, tells her this is not the time nor the place, but she could not bring herself to stop moving. The thick scent of lust that had hung so heavily in the air, her own heat, and weak will, it was too much for her to resist. God, and he was so big too, bigger than her. How could she resist having such large cocks fill her holes? They might hurt, but they looked so hard, and she was a bit of a glutton for pain, evidence by her collar and the now freely ringing bell that hung from it.<br> <br>Seguro Spies the light off in the distance, the dragon's now camouflaged hidden, feathered, icy adapted wings dips as dragon banks, as shi goes in for a closer look at the at the light in the distance, circling the compound a few times before getting closer a closer look.<br> <br>The catboi grunts indignantly as the group seems to ignore him entirely, but he tried to reign in his anger and willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps they had not heard him over the howling wind. "Hey There!! Friend or Foe?!" He calls out again, louder this time as to try and penetrate the wind. He crept slowly closer but was making sure to stay back far enough that if they decided to open fire on him that he had a chancce to dive for cover and slip away.<br> <br>Thelergramor frowns at the ferals, though they don't seem hostile enough to warrant shooting. The fox checks his rifle. Loaded. Good. The fox picks up on what Randel is 'saying', doesn't point out that those ferals are not worth their time. As Cyrus approaches the cocks, that stare quite apparent to Thel. He walks in front of Cyrus. "...Not a good time to fuck around, right?" The fox then looks to the catboi. "Friend, probably. They ignored you, yes? Me too. So, fuck it. I'm going with them." Thel looks off toward where Seg went, of course recognizing that one. "So, again, what are you all doing here?"<br> <br>The light in the tower wavers slightly, but doesn't go out. There might have just been a bit of wind that blew it to dancing, or was it a person? You can't tell, but there is light coming down from above you, the ladders, two of them, climbing up the metal and plastic structure, evidently reinforced as the Nanites weaken it slowly. The smell of blood is strong, and comes from inside the compound gate, and around the corner, the nearby manfactory and storage area evidently the source, by the direction of the blast. Chiming crystals of ice continue to form slowly on some surfaces, the rain that stopped earlie comes back, but not as you would have expected. Snow; heavy and large flakes of powder-white shimmer as they fall, the ice-coated glass outside crinkling and sparkling with moonlight. |
| + | |||
| + | A couple of Feral souls make their way over, to sniff at the gate and what you thought were just wear and damage marks in the concrete and steel. They're not. You see what they're sniffing at and it's...hard to believe. Claws. Through thick armored steel, tearing it and the stone overtop like they were balsa over a nail. The Ferals look to you and then glance to the left, shivering from more than the cold but, they step forward. One step at a time, till they're with Randel, cold and shivering still, but warming, slowly. | ||
| + | |||
| + | The two new members, Benjamin? Thelergramor? Who are they? And how did they get here? There are...sounds, now, in the quiet night, the lightning still off in the distance. Like...the creak of huge pads and claws on metal. Close, but...what? Where?<br> <br>Husky ears tilt back to look at Benji and Thel, her lusty eyes roaming over both of them before she shakes her head clear to focus on the job at hand... and as lax as she is to break silence she calls back towards the pair. "We are here investigating a beast that has been reying on caravans coming through here. Now would you two cuties be quiet. We don't need to draw it to our voices."<br> <br>Randel looks on at the ferals, and smiles when seeing a couple join up. He always likes it when ferals are not only non-hostile, but are actively helpful. He frowns a bit when seeing what the new help as pointed out. But before he can investigate it, more people show up. What, really? Where thought the others where covering his back. After seeing Narg explain things, he sighs in relief and goes to look at the damaged armor. He could cut such a thing into such material as well, but would take him a good while. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Again interrupted! He turns around, hearing talk behind him as Cyrus starts to lose focus on what's really important. {{I wouldn't do that if I were you}} is heard in the bovine girl's mind, and only in her mind. The mental image, like that of a distant past memory is shared with just Cyrus. She is being mated, but by just one of those cocks. It slips in, and slips in smoothly, very smoothly.. and wetly.. and warmly.. and sickeningly. Looking down that isn't precum, or femme honey, or cum running down her leg, it's blood! The jagged shaft slides in deeper, and not at all in a healthy way! Thankfully Cyrus doesn't get this mental image as a fresh traumatic memory, nor can Randel even hope to do such a thing of such magnitude, even if he wanted to, but the idea of screaming for him to stop, and being left to bleed out by the very sex that urged her to want to mate with such a horrid thing should be enough of a mood kill to keep her off his ass for some time. The whole mental picture is but a moment, but the detail... | ||
| + | |||
| + | He looks back again at his objective, and at the light that may or may not be important. Through the comms he says, "I really don't like this. This reeks of supernatural, as much as it reeks of blood. This isn't my strong suit, does someone have an idea what the /bloody fuck/ we are going up against?" He looks at his new, but albeit simple minded allies and says to them {{Stay close, this may get scary. If this goes well, good lay for all.}} and them makes a deep chuckle. Sure it's cheap, and literally below the belt, if one were to wear a belt, but he has to motivate the beasts somehow. | ||
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.
Randel slowly lumbers along, swivel-necking around, if only because he has no real target to throw himself at. When hearing the snarls and whines, he snaps his head to the source of the sound, and growls deeply. He's taken aback when seeing such a pile of pour creatures and before people realize it, they 'hear' something, and hear it very clearly in their minds. Template:We are here to attack a bad creature. If you are brave enough, you can follow us and attack it as well. I will warm you as best as I can. It seems like he's talking to the ferals with the nanite telepathy. Template:Obey us if you do follow. If you cannot obey, fuck off. You are useless to us Yeah, he is... It may be a waste of time, but he seems to value these crazed beasts to a large degree.
Cyrus stares hungrily at Randel's brace of cocks, her hands slowly slipping away from Epsilon's form as she steps closer to the drake. The scent of her needy arousal rising off of her heated sex, nanites run amok as steam seems to literally rise from her slit as she steps closer, her massive hooves crushing glass and ice below as she moves closer. In the back of her mind, a rapidly shrinking point of rational thought, tells her this is not the time nor the place, but she could not bring herself to stop moving. The thick scent of lust that had hung so heavily in the air, her own heat, and weak will, it was too much for her to resist. God, and he was so big too, bigger than her. How could she resist having such large cocks fill her holes? They might hurt, but they looked so hard, and she was a bit of a glutton for pain, evidence by her collar and the now freely ringing bell that hung from it.
Seguro Spies the light off in the distance, the dragon's now camouflaged hidden, feathered, icy adapted wings dips as dragon banks, as shi goes in for a closer look at the at the light in the distance, circling the compound a few times before getting closer a closer look.
The catboi grunts indignantly as the group seems to ignore him entirely, but he tried to reign in his anger and willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps they had not heard him over the howling wind. "Hey There!! Friend or Foe?!" He calls out again, louder this time as to try and penetrate the wind. He crept slowly closer but was making sure to stay back far enough that if they decided to open fire on him that he had a chancce to dive for cover and slip away.
Thelergramor frowns at the ferals, though they don't seem hostile enough to warrant shooting. The fox checks his rifle. Loaded. Good. The fox picks up on what Randel is 'saying', doesn't point out that those ferals are not worth their time. As Cyrus approaches the cocks, that stare quite apparent to Thel. He walks in front of Cyrus. "...Not a good time to fuck around, right?" The fox then looks to the catboi. "Friend, probably. They ignored you, yes? Me too. So, fuck it. I'm going with them." Thel looks off toward where Seg went, of course recognizing that one. "So, again, what are you all doing here?"
The light in the tower wavers slightly, but doesn't go out. There might have just been a bit of wind that blew it to dancing, or was it a person? You can't tell, but there is light coming down from above you, the ladders, two of them, climbing up the metal and plastic structure, evidently reinforced as the Nanites weaken it slowly. The smell of blood is strong, and comes from inside the compound gate, and around the corner, the nearby manfactory and storage area evidently the source, by the direction of the blast. Chiming crystals of ice continue to form slowly on some surfaces, the rain that stopped earlie comes back, but not as you would have expected. Snow; heavy and large flakes of powder-white shimmer as they fall, the ice-coated glass outside crinkling and sparkling with moonlight.
A couple of Feral souls make their way over, to sniff at the gate and what you thought were just wear and damage marks in the concrete and steel. They're not. You see what they're sniffing at and it's...hard to believe. Claws. Through thick armored steel, tearing it and the stone overtop like they were balsa over a nail. The Ferals look to you and then glance to the left, shivering from more than the cold but, they step forward. One step at a time, till they're with Randel, cold and shivering still, but warming, slowly.
The two new members, Benjamin? Thelergramor? Who are they? And how did they get here? There are...sounds, now, in the quiet night, the lightning still off in the distance. Like...the creak of huge pads and claws on metal. Close, but...what? Where?
Husky ears tilt back to look at Benji and Thel, her lusty eyes roaming over both of them before she shakes her head clear to focus on the job at hand... and as lax as she is to break silence she calls back towards the pair. "We are here investigating a beast that has been reying on caravans coming through here. Now would you two cuties be quiet. We don't need to draw it to our voices."
Randel looks on at the ferals, and smiles when seeing a couple join up. He always likes it when ferals are not only non-hostile, but are actively helpful. He frowns a bit when seeing what the new help as pointed out. But before he can investigate it, more people show up. What, really? Where thought the others where covering his back. After seeing Narg explain things, he sighs in relief and goes to look at the damaged armor. He could cut such a thing into such material as well, but would take him a good while.
Again interrupted! He turns around, hearing talk behind him as Cyrus starts to lose focus on what's really important. Template:I wouldn't do that if I were you is heard in the bovine girl's mind, and only in her mind. The mental image, like that of a distant past memory is shared with just Cyrus. She is being mated, but by just one of those cocks. It slips in, and slips in smoothly, very smoothly.. and wetly.. and warmly.. and sickeningly. Looking down that isn't precum, or femme honey, or cum running down her leg, it's blood! The jagged shaft slides in deeper, and not at all in a healthy way! Thankfully Cyrus doesn't get this mental image as a fresh traumatic memory, nor can Randel even hope to do such a thing of such magnitude, even if he wanted to, but the idea of screaming for him to stop, and being left to bleed out by the very sex that urged her to want to mate with such a horrid thing should be enough of a mood kill to keep her off his ass for some time. The whole mental picture is but a moment, but the detail...
He looks back again at his objective, and at the light that may or may not be important. Through the comms he says, "I really don't like this. This reeks of supernatural, as much as it reeks of blood. This isn't my strong suit, does someone have an idea what the /bloody fuck/ we are going up against?" He looks at his new, but albeit simple minded allies and says to them Template:Stay close, this may get scary. If this goes well, good lay for all. and them makes a deep chuckle. Sure it's cheap, and literally below the belt, if one were to wear a belt, but he has to motivate the beasts somehow.
