Back in the city he's a man on the loose

[craftpunk]

WHO: Anyone participating in the WILD HUNT
WHERE: Maurtia Falls
WHEN: Days 3-6 of the groundhog day week
WHAT: It's a Wild Hunt. People in a frenzy, and lots of "prey"
WARNINGS: Proooobably lots of violence! Might be gore and death.



The third afternoon, Maurtia Falls was eerily silent, and unseasonably cold. Colder than normal. Normal people have breath that curls around them, like shocking mist against the quickly darkening evening. Through mainstreet, and leading into the closest fields, there are speakers that line the road -- placed each day with careful precision, hidden and storied away in different locations, enough so that the main streets of the city pulsated and throbbed with music that pulsed up and down the streets. It throbbed with energy, with pulses, and there was something...different. It wasn't just like listening to music, but it made one feel...different. Frenzied, powerful, ready to hunt and fight. Woden had chosen to dupe some very particular powers for this music, and they spoke of lion goddesses of the nile, a frenzy and furor that would lead someone to do something...dark and terrible, just for the sake of revenge.

When the time came, when night fell and the air turned crisp and chill, Woden stepped from a portal, glitters and rainbows spiraled outward when he did, and each night, he stepped through with a mechanical beast, animated through his powers, eight legs that met the ground with an eerie dexterity, and Woden would always -- each night -- jump on with an alacrity that seemed youthful, somehow. Each night, all four of them, he'd take a quick run through the city, to garner as much attention as he could, his voice echoed over the thrumming, eerie music. "Tonight is the Wilde Jagd -- The Wild hunt," he repeated over and over, musical voice repeated down the line, and people emerged from their homes and bars, places of work to hear the sound that throbbed down the otherwise hushed streets.

"Take your weapons," the musical voice floated through the night, musical. "Improvise, if you must. Bats, guns, or the knife on your table," when he said that, the music matched his tone -- he sounded deeper, more powerful -- even godlike. "You will follow -- we will hunt, and the prey is plenty tonight."

Woden would lead the crowd -- whipped into a frenzy by the music that Sakhmet had created -- through the streets of Maurtia Falls, and out into the forests beyond the city limits, the crowd thirsted for blood.

Tonight, and for the forseeable future, it was the wild hunt.

Comments

PREY

[craftpunk]

The prey was found one by one. Perhaps they just happened to be in Maurtia Falls at the time of the hunt, or maybe something about them tipped Woden off, and he appeared, to take them away, in a portal of glittering rainbows, before he pulled them through, and deposited them into the woods. Nothing about them said prey, other than the fact that they were weaponless, cold, and in the middle of the woods, and there was the sound of people -- howling and wild -- on their way. There were few pitchforks or torches, but there was a cacophany of screams, the thrumming sound of music that came from the lead of the crowd. A glowing figure atop a metal beast -- exhaust errupted from its nostrils, a plume of smoke into the chill air.

He didn't have to say anything, when they came on the prey. The crowd was already whipped into a fervor. They charged -- peaple milling about, their bats and knives and guns all raised, before they roared -- the sound overtook the thrumminb pulses of muisc, and then --

The only option was to run.

[subroutined]

Ash doesn't know how he got here. He'd thought to himself, "Maybe I should visit Maurtia Falls again. It can't possibly go as poorly as the last time I was there." And then there was a flash of rainbow coloured light and he'd woken up in the woods.

Obviously, he should just listen to his instincts and never come to Maurtia Falls.

He takes his time moving... a little disorientated, but his internal GPS sensors still telling him he's within the Maurtia Falls city limits. He actually waves at the crowd of incoming people, wondering if maybe they can help him find a way out of there. It's only once one of them gets close enough for his handgun to turn into a plastic replica that he realizes the crowd is carrying weapons. The would-be hunter pulls the trigger anyway, and a small red flag that reads "BANG!" in black comic book lettering comes out.

It's then that Ash begins to run.

[ ooc note: all traditional weapons (guns, knives, bats) within, let's say, a ten foot radius of Ash will turn into toy versions of that weapon (toy guns, rubber knives, whiffle bats, etc.). if someone wants to actually harm Ash, they will have to resort to an improvised weapon. ]

[ct_7567]

As one member of the crowd peels away from the rest of his bloodthirsty, frothing brethren, he cocks his gun and takes aim at Ash - who can, unfortunately, be shot from over ten feet away. It's not that he knows what Ash can necessarily do, but these people will take the most direct method to secure a kill, whatever that method may be.

Unluckily for this particular gentleman, Rex has also found himself in this mess without a clue as to what's going on or, for that matter, what this frankly horrendous music going on is about. All he knows is that there's a skinny looking whelp of a thing being pursued, and he's never much liked seeing that. It happens in a split second: Rex raises one of his blasters and shoots twice, nailing the man in his thigh, then again in his shoulder. He goes down, howling in pain, and Rex - the perennial showboat - twirls his blaster around his finger and returns it to his holster before approaching Ash. It's impossible to know what he's feeling right now or what his intentions are with the helmet on, but at least his weapons are securely put away.

"He better not have had a good reason for wanting to shoot you," Rex says, gruff voice tinny through his suit's vocoder. "I'm not fond of shooting people without a good reason."

[subroutined]

It's a good thing he holstered his weapon before approaching Ash. That way it stays... you know. A weapon. Ash looks slightly panicked. If he breathed, he would be out of breath. If he had a heartbeat, it would be racing.

The helpful stranger's voice sounds slightly familiar-- like TK-622, Ash's roommate-- but it's hard to tell through the helmet. Ash winces, shaking his head desperately.

"I haven't done anything! I don't know how I got here... I don't know why they want to hurt me."

[dun_moch]

This was not how Count Dooku pictured his return to Maurtia Falls upon escaping from prison. He had intended his homecoming to involve more of a settling in at his old housing, followed by reconnecting with the local underworld and beginning the process of plotting revenge.

Instead, he is stranded in the woods surrounded by malcontents, being assaulted by the worst music he has heard since subjecting himself to jizz wailing, and without his lightsaber. Dooku's face darkens as his enemies close in around him. He is very tired of being made a victim or a captive by powers beyond him.

"You will not find me an easy target," he vows dramatically. Then he leaps, straight upward, into the trees, and alights daintily on a branch as though aided by invisible wires. He may not be able to kill all the fools, but the Dark Side is still strong in him, enough that he will make them the most difficult quarry he can until he can elude this nonsense.

[generalgrievous]

Grievous had become caught up easily in the lure of the Hunt. The Kaleesh was easily drawn out to the beat of the music and the promise of violence. It reminded him of the old wars and bands of warriors out for blood and revenge. Revenge had long been on his mind these past weeks and of course there was one main focus - Count Dooku.

Luckily nearby when Dooku makes his dramatic vow, Grievous sees the man leap upward.

"You will not escape me this time," he mutters to himself as he fixes his eyes on his prey. He watches, a sword clutched in one hand and a rifle slung across his back. He'd managed to pick up these weapons with the crowd along the way. There was also a couple of knives at his belt. Remaining with no current access to his cyborg body, that also meant no lightsaber. But he didn't feel he needed it. He had been an expert with many other weapons, long before Dooku had even entered his life and ruined it....

The thought brings a growl to his throat and his grip tightens on the sword's hilt.

"Coward!" He calls up to Dooku. "Come down here and face me!"

[codeofiron]

Brandon had stepped out into the street in order to try to at least pull a few bystanders from the path of the crowd. Then there had been some glittering, rainbow light, and now he's here, in the woods. That music, though - the whole crowd must have transported, too. So why is he out ahead of them?

The man in the lead had said something about a hunt.

Brandon reaches for his guns, but the holsters under his jacket are empty. How? The crowd had been close, but no one should have been able to take his weapons without him noticing. For a few moments he freezes, weighed down with a cold terror he hasn't felt since he faced Lightning's soldiers. A lot of the time, having his guns taken away would be a secret relief. Not now. The first members of the crowd are coming into view, and they're definitely not unarmed.

If he's going to fight, if he's going to stop some of them, he needs to choose the ground. He needs to be able to fight a limited number at once. He starts to run, keeping an eye out both for likely places and for anyone else who needs to be helped along.


((ooc note: Brandon's immune to bullets, but all other weapons will work on him. He's very good at hand-to-hand and can deal with a knife or bat, but the forest is going to be challenging ground for him and he's only one guy.))

[onlydoubts]

What was supposed to be a simple visit to Maurtia Falls to stop by Neojedha of course, doesn't go according to plan. Bodhi barely has the chance to blink before with a flash of rainbow light, he's been taken from the street and deposited in the woods.

Alone. He's got a bad feeling about this.

Trying to convince himself that it could be a malfunction in the porter, or someone's ability gone haywire gets more and more difficult, the closer he gets to the city. He doesn't need Kay's knack for probability, to guess on seeing the large frenzied looking crowd surrounding a masked figure on a metal beast, that he's in some serious trouble.

It's when an individual armed with a gun fires a bullet that just barely misses him, but embeds himself in a tree does he turn and run back towards the woods.

[ ooc: Bodhi has a healing power, so he can heal himself of most minor injuries. He can still be killed, it'd just take a little more work. ]

[vanto]

Eli has blood on his hands.

He's not had that — never like this — where it reaches all the way to his elbow. It is, as Thrawn would say, fascinating. No one has yet died by his hands, and that is probably for the best given someone of Eli's temperament, who would not deal well with the guilt of innocent blood on his hands.

It is impossible to be in this place and not get some blood on you.

And perhaps it had been a kindness on Woden's part that Eli had not ended up prey.

[perfectible]

It didn't matter what she'd promised to Jughead, she knew that one of the days, she'd try to make to him before the world blew up. The drive was hell, full of traffic and hours long. By the time she got there, it was late. Really late.

But as she parks her car and takes out her phone to call Jughead (he can't stop her from coming if she's already there), there's a flash of... rainbow and glitter? Sparkles?

Suddenly she's in the woods. At least, she thinks it's the woods, there's trees and it smells damp and nothing like the woods back home. But there's no sign of the city or her car.

Disoriented, she looks around, completely unaware of where she is. And when she hears the crowd of people, she makes the mistake of stumbling towards them in the dark, calling out. "Hello?" Everyone in this city has been on the same side during this so far. Maybe they can explain how she got here and---

Oh no, they don't look friendly at all. And that is when Betty turns to run, rushing, stumbling through the trees, her powers completely useless out in the middle of nowhere.

[andtherevolution]

Utena's sprinting through the woods, zig-zagging wildly to throw the hunters off her trail. She's mad some distance between them, but for how long? And even if she manages to outrun one pack, who's to say that another one won't be waiting around the corner?

The only thing that stops her is the sound of Betty stumbling through the forest. Utena halts before dashing behind a tree, and she crouches low as she tries to watch the other girl. Is it a hunter? Utena doesn't see a weapon on her, but it's too dark to make out anything clearly. But the hunters she's seen have all traveled in groups or pairs. Which means...

...which means that she might be prey. It's only a guess, and a risky one at that. It would be much safer to ignore her and keep running. But, well, Utena's not known for taking the safe option. Unwilling to leave her to her fate, she creeps forward, her hands held up to show that she means no harm.

"Hey," she says, speaking just loud enough to be heard by Betty and Betty alone. "Are you... you're not one of them, are you?"

[littlemissfutility]

[run]

It's like being at home again--colder, and she doesn't have her knife today (left it in the hotel room, stupid, stupid, stupid), but otherwise, it's easy to slip back into the role. Beth's dressed to get the hell out of this tangle of forest, at least. If she'd worn a skirt today, she might be screwed.

Everything happens in a moment. Fear bites at her spine; her gaze sweeps the ground, looking for a solid branch, something she might be able to use to beat somebody away, but there's nothing; she starts to move. She knows better than to hope that there might be something nearby, a town with a police force or even a vacation house someplace out here. Whatever's going on, whoever that masked figure is that grabbed her off the street, he wouldn't have dragged them out here if there was hope for some kind of rescue. That's not what people like this do.

She probably can't outrun a steel horse (maybe a horse? there's no time to ponder it), but she's going to try anyway. With death at her heels, she sprints away, the tail of her scarf fluttering behind her like a banner.

[hide]

You can't run forever. Running until you're spent, every breath burning your lungs, is just plain stupid--the time it'll take to gasp back your energy, the noise you'll make in the process, is danger in itself. Beth stops before that point, as soon as she finds a place she can rest for a moment or two. Huge fallen log, plenty of brush. Depending on where a hunter's coming from, they'll still see her, but on most sides, she's hidden. And she's crouched just enough that she can start running if someone shows up.

She catches her breath silently as she can, eyes darting around the space the entire time. A branch--there's a heavy-looking branch, she's going to take that. And then she's going to use everything Daryl taught her about tracking to be silent and unfindable. She's going to get out of here, she's going to survive, she's--

A branch cracks, and she freezes, looking hard and half-wild in the direction of the sound. It's a figure, definitely a person. Can they see her?

[escape?]

She texts Poe when she thinks it's safe, lets him know she's still alive. Tells him not to worry--this can't go on forever, right? Eventually, the world will start over again, and she'll be back in Maurtia Falls with her hunting knife. Or it won't, and she'll die out here...but she'll still come back.

The thought of dying again--being shot again--tastes like bile in the back of her throat, but if she has to do it...

There's a sound, just out of sight, and she hefts her branch, ready to club down whoever's waiting. Maybe they have a gun. Maybe I can steal it and--

Focus. You have to focus. Knock them out first.

escape

[onlydoubts]

Today has not been a good day. And by today, Bodhi means today, and yesterday - running around the woods, trying to avoid getting caught again. He's already ran into Eli earlier, and got away. But he's already been shot at and injured and the entire thing is just old and he's tired.

Even if death is not a permanent fixture, Bodhi isn't looking to do that again.

He stops to listen. Silence. Taking a quiet breath, he slowly edges his way forward, eyes darting around quickly for a sign of someone. Anyone. Friend or foe.

Unaware of Beth and her tree branch hidden out of his line of sight, it seems like he has a moment to regain his bearings and come up with some kind of plan.

hide

[codeofiron]

Brandon had decided that the risk of making noise wasn't nearly as great as the risk that came with being too slow. Most of the "hunters" seemed to have little or no regard for avoiding making noise themselves, but they were certainly eager to chase. And he had to admit, as quietly as he could move through a building, he had no chance of actually avoiding everything that would make noise out in a forest.

That branch, though, had nearly made him slip as it broke, and he had to pause to regain his balance. Checking his surroundings, he notices movement by a fallen log. Brandon begins to reach, automatically, for a gun that's not there, but he drops his hand. Whoever's there is clearly hiding, not hunting.

"You'll need to start running again soon."

HUNTERS

[craftpunk]

The music that thrummed through the streets, and then at the head of the line -- Woden's mechanical horse with eight legs, emitted the sound down through and past the streets -- into the plains, and then to the forest. The sound isn't just music, it's more than that. The beat of the base is so heavy it thrummed deep into the stomach, so hard it's like an emotion is thrust to the forefront from just hearing it. The sound is enough to make some stop, and take a break -- just to indulge in more than just fervor, before they moved on. Each pulse feels like you're choking, either on something rising from below, or from the air itself. It's like the energy inside is too much, hands shaking from the need to grip and rip and tear. Blood feels hot in your veins, and your head feels like you're swimming -- drowning -- choking on the rising frenzy and furor.

Or, if you're lucky, and this just sounds like music to you, your curiosity can get the best of you, and you can just join in -- because who doesn't like a little Chaos?

[vanto]

An incursion to Mauritia Falls had gone horribly askew; timeloop, again and again, — Eli had been on the edge of his seat, frustrated and stressed. Watching Poe die. Watching the clock reset itself —

— it made sense to be stressed out. At least, Eli felt perfectly justified in feeling like his mind had been stretched thin. Enough that he recognises Woden's signature beats when he's on the streets.

And of course, Woden on top of an eight-legged metallic steed, makes Eli cringe. He could have so easily become prey but Eli had been Woden's once and maybe it was that or the bracelet he wore permanently marking him as such that allowed him to weave with easy into the crowd.

Belonging.

Enough to call out, offended, "You had a better steed before."

[craftpunk]

Woden was less offended, although the fact that Eli found him in the middle of this said, clearly enough, that the bracelet could only do so much to cull the closeness that Eli craved. He wasn't bloodthirsty or in the thrall of the music -- unsurprising, considering that he was wearing Woden's brand on his wrist.

He stopped, the beast breathed steam from its nostrils.

"You're correct, I did. Too bad he can't come an play anymore."

DEATHS

[craftpunk]

[ I will be starting open threads for each day of deaths. Days 3 and 4 are claimed. If you are interested in killing Woden (or more realistically, almost-killing him until time resets) please contact me at hundreds! ]

Night 1

[craftpunk]

[ open ]

Night 2 - Utena

[craftpunk]

[andtherevolution]

On the second night of the festivities Utena had been taken as prey. Perhaps it was intentional. Perhaps it was just bad luck. However, she was not content to take her fate lying down. She ran for as long as she could, but eventually the time came to stop playing defense, and some of the hunters learned the hard way that even prey can be dangerous.

She marched through the woods, bloody and bruised with her clothes torn and her hair tangled, but still very much alive and still able to fight. In her hands was a baseball bat she wrestled from one of the hunters, and she gripped it tight as she searched for the man responsible for this catastrophe.

"Woden!" she screamed, her voice raw with rage and pain, "Where the hell are you?!"

Night 3 - AKIRA

[craftpunk]

[wahey]

Between the announcement of the missile, the Sabbath, and now the third day of the Wild Hunt, the week had been a rapid fire volley of pure hell. Akira had of course taken notice of the mad mob that had seized the city streets, and took it upon himself to survey the skies in Devilman form the previous two days to look for survivors. Even if it was pointless, even if it would just be reset the next day, what was the point of giving up his human body if he didn't do something?

So he looked for injured 'prey' that managed to escape, or was never quite caught, or for whatever reason needed him to swoop down and carry them to somewhere safe. If he was attacked, he ran. Even with these people acting no better than beasts, he didn't want to kill them. Not yet. Something was driving them mad, and he needed to find what it was.

This reset, he didn't even have the opportunity to transform before he found a man frantically limping away, bleeding and with broadhead bolts from a sporting crossbow sticking out of him. The sounds of the hunt weren't too far away. The man eventually collapses as Akira sprints over to reach him, looking distraught as he kneels down to inspect the injuries.

"Don't try to move. I can carry you."

He just gets a pained groan in response, and a cold feeling settles in Akira's gut. There was a lot of blood. One of bolts must have hit something major, and if he removed it, it would only bleed even worse. This man was very likely going to die. Despite the futility of the action, he moves to try and lift him up, careful not to disturb any of the bolts. Maybe, maybe he could get him to help in time...

Night 4 - PANTHEON

[craftpunk]

[purple_reign]

[ The Hunt hasn't gone unnoticed by the Pantheon. ...Well, maybe on the first night. Honestly who the hell expected Woden to take such a publicly dark turn?

...Best not to answer that. The point is that by now, Inanna has lost patience in trying to simply divert the people caught up in the thrall of The Hunt. It hasn't worked yet, and it's clear that isn't going to change any time soon. They're trying a new tactic tonight—taking advantage of their divination to pinpoint the location of the hidden speakers and conducting their own march through the street, following the path of the damned things. As Inanna passes each one, they reach out to snatch the device out of whatever fastenings hold it in place and smash it violently to the ground. ]

Woden! Don't make me come and find you myself!

[ Although, if this wanton destruction isn't enough to draw Woden out on its own, maybe a little divination on the speakers themselves will help draw the wannabe robot's location out. ]