"ᴡᴏᴅᴇɴ" (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
craftpunk) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2018-03-24 02:18 pm
craftpunk) wrote in maskormenacelogs2018-03-24 02:18 pm
Back in the city he's a man on the loose
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.
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.