i will travel across the land, searching far and wide

[viciousmaukery]

WHO: Mollymauk Tealeaf and Detective Pikachu fursleuth!
WHERE: some road where a Jersey Devil ripoff’s been sighted
WHEN: dusk edging on straight-up nighttime for the #Aesthetic. sometime on a Friday, maybe?
WHAT: a tiefling and a Pokémon go cryptid hunting. they’re not the only ones, they’re just the weirdest ones.
WARNINGS: self-harm to activate powers on Molly’s part. possible combat.

They called it the Devil of Lovers’ Lane. A winged thing with sharp teeth and claws, a goat’s head and hooves, small arms with human hands (with aforementioned claws attached), and a tail much like Molly’s own, they said it stood at about the same height as an average ten-year-old, and had a scream that could freeze you in your tracks, eyes that glowed just before it swooped down on you.

When asked why he wanted to go after the thing, Molly had shrugged and said that he was just curious. Which isn’t entirely the reason why he’s going after it—from what he’s been able to glean, creatures like the Devil of Lovers’ Lane have been falling sick lately, and the idea of just letting them die when he should do something about it sits wrong in Molly’s stomach. So when he finds himself with a free Friday, he takes his swords and has a taxi take him somewhere close to Lovers’ Lane.

The legends say that the Devil of Lovers’ Lane is attracted to the shine of wedding rings and first-date jewelry, as well as the sounds of lovers, well, doing what lovers do when alone. Since Molly only has himself, he’s opted to pile on the visuals—aside from his usual jewelry, he pulls on a coat and murmurs, “As bright and loud as possible, there we go.” As soon as he pulls the collar up, gold and silver sequins emerge from the dark fabric of the coat, threads of bright colors stitching themselves into stars surrounding a full moon made of sequins.

He should be a tempting target for the Devil now. He’s only just stepped onto the asphalt lot when he hears a weak moan in the trees, off to the side, and he turns around, a hand resting on the hilt of one of his swords. He’d been planning to blind and then knock it out before carting it back to get it treated, but one can’t be too careful.

“Hey,” he calls. “Devil of Lovers’ Lane?” A tentative step forward. He could really use someone at his back right now. Yasha, maybe. Jester, or Caleb, or Fjord, or Beau, or Nott. Hell, all of them, ideally, but he doesn’t live in an ideal world. Multiverse. Whatever. “I’m not here to hurt you. Just speak up, let me know where you are so I can take you somewhere to get treated. You can’t be too comfortable out here.” Another step. “Hello?”

Another step, then another, then another.

And he’s made it into the trees.

“You’re going to have to speak up louder,” he calls, trying to listen for that weak moan again. “I imagine you’re on a deadline here.”

Comments

[fursleuth]

Pikachu isn't even sure what he's doing, which, honestly? Sort of how he operates these days. Roll with the punches. Wake up with no memories? Follow the clues. Wake up in a coffee shop in a world that's never even heard of Ryme City? Okay. That's a little harder, but fine. He'll bite. Now that he has context for Harry and Mewtwo, the whole cryptid situation sets his fur on edge.

He has no business stalking this one- literally nothing about him screams the necessary things required to lure this cryptid, but here he is. In the trees.

Trying to generate a spark. That's kind of shiny, right?

"C'mon. C'mon." He mutters, shuffling around in the branches overhead, dislodging a few twigs and leaves right in the path and making a right furry nuisance of himself. "Cheeks don't fail me now." And now the occasional moaning is followed up by the sound of straining and groaning from above.

Yep. That's a thing.

[viciousmaukery]

The twigs drop right onto Molly’s head, and he stops right in his tracks when he hears a deep voice from just above him. Do cryptids talk? Well, what would Molly know about that, he’s not an expert. He looks up, and just. Blinks.

Nowhere in the legends he’d been told did a yellow rat with a lightning-shaped tail show up. For a moment Molly just. Stares, in shock, because there’s urban legends flying around getting sick, there’s ghosts with no feet and lizardfolk that turn out to be fiendish, and then there’s. Well. Whatever this is. What in the fuck even is this.

Moonweaver, his life since he got here has already been so goddamn fucking weird, he might as well just roll with it.

“Either you’re not the Devil of Lovers’ Lane,” he calls up to the little rodent trying to rub at his cheeks for some reason (why???), “or you’re smaller, furrier, and far less flight-capable than I expected.” He’s pretty sure it’s the former, he can still hear that moaning in the distance. It’s concerning, to say the least.

[fursleuth]

Pikachu was not expecting questionably Irish accents today, so absorbed in his work was he, so he yelps and backs up against the trunk of the tree the second Molly speaks, his little heart hammering against his chest. "Oh sweet Arceus, that is how people get electrocuted. You are exceedingly lucky that I'm-"

He looks down, and shuts up. Wow. That is a lot of person and that's before he gets to the purple and horns and the tail parts. ".....I'm confused, because just to look at you, I'd think you were the Devil of Such-and-whatever. You've got that vibe." No wings, but hell, maybe they're under that shiny coat. "Wouldn't explain the moaning, but too long in a creepy forest and anyone would moan like that. It's a natural reaction to things sucking."

[viciousmaukery]

ImPort life is so goddamn weird.

"I'm a tiefling, not an actual devil," Molly says, annoyance creeping into his tone, the sort that bubbles up when people are just plain ignorant. That's rich coming from a talking yellow rat. "And I'm certainly not the one that's been chasing horny couples off. For one thing, I don't have wings." He cocks his head, trying to listen for that moaning again. "And I'm not the one doing the moaning, I haven't been in this forest that long."

And he just about manages to catch a little more of that moaning before it tapers off again. The silence is unsettling enough that Molly rests a hand on the hilt of a scimitar out of instinct, eyes darting around like he half-expects something to come out of the trees.

Wait.

"You're looking for the Devil too, right?" he calls up to the rodent, an idea popping into his head. Maybe Molly can't trust that the branches will be able to hold his weight, scimitars, jewelry and all, but this little rat seems to be balancing just fine. "Feel like working with me here? You're much smaller and slightly less obvious than I am, you can keep an eye up in the trees while I'm down here."

[fursleuth]

In the most delighted, sing-song, that's nice but I don't care tone, "And I have no idea what the difference is." He (he??) is clearly not the Devil of Lover's Lane, however. He is just the Tiefling of Gaudy Fashion Choices, which makes him probably not what he's looking for.

The fact that he speaks in complete sentences is a huge sign too. Conversationalists, these cryptids are not. And while lone wolfing it out here is probably good for his street cred and keeps the cryptids from freaking the fuck out.... He is part of a matched set. It was him and Harry before. And then him and Tim.

Eh, what the hell? For an afternoon, it can be him and Glitterati over here. "I'm so glad you asked. Even Bogart keeps people around him so he has someone to recite all that gruff dialogue at. That dark-hearted loner thing is just lonely. And boring." He walks across the branch and hops to the next. "Maybe we can shake 'em out better 'cause we're not human. They're a little squirrely about humans."

[viciousmaukery]

Molly rolls his eyes in a somewhat theatrical fashion. Gods save him, he doesn’t have the time to explain, and his information is a little bit useless because he’s never met a devil in his life. Except Kylre, probably, if fiends count, but he thought Kylre was lizardfolk like everybody else in the circus did. He lets that subject drop for now, but there’s a real intention to go back to it later.

He’s placing his trust in the hands of a little rat thing that talks in order to find a thing that’s only been in stories so far, and many of them somewhat confused over the finer details. This would be a ridiculous situation if Molly were anywhere but in the thick of it, but he is, and he’ll just have to roll with it. Besides, he’d been wishing for the Nein earlier. The rodent might not be the Nein, but he’s (he is pretty sure it’s a he) all that Molly currently has.

“Who’s Bogart?” Molly’s entertainment tastes run towards soap operas and highly dramatic reality shows, Bogart is so far out of his wheelhouse that he half-thinks it’s someone Yellow Rat-Thingy personally knows. But no, it doesn’t sound like it. “I can’t blame them, humans can be very rude.” So can everyone else, like tieflings and goblins and all the rest, but this is a world that’s mostly human. The Devil of Lovers’ Lane has most likely never even seen anything else.

He follows along under Pikachu, leaves crunching under his snazzy boots.

“They could, of course, just be wary of outsiders in general. If some arsehole brought their date up here for a good, loud time, I don’t think the Devil would care if they’re human or not, just that they’re in its territory and probably interrupting a good nap.” He absently kicks a rock along, looking around for horns and hooves and leathery wings. Or feathery wings. Again: sources conflict on the finer details. He glances around, trying to check for footprints or any sign of disturbances by a creature with hooves so he can track it better, but nothing catches his eye. Either it’s really good at covering its tracks or it usually just flies instead of walking around like any normal person.

“See something up there?” he calls. “Claw marks, bits of jewelry, that sort of thing?”

[fursleuth]

"Who's Bogart? Bogey? Oh my god, you poor, poor sheltered horned person. Remind me when we're done with this that I've got some films to show you. It'll be great. Later though. Business now." He scurries along the branches, leaps to the next and begins checking the trunk and surrounding areas for any sign of passing creatures. Large passing creatures. Not squirrels, like the kind that leap out at him when he pokes too close to their hole and scurry down the tree, chittering insults that he understands perfectly.

"Wow. Do they kiss their mothers with those hairy mouths? Geez." He shakes his head and goes back to hunting. "Not a lick of anything- wait."

Something glitters in the tree across from where he is and he tears towards it, hoping to grab it before he loses sight of it. It's a necklace of some kind- nicely made from a distance, but as he gets closer, he can see it's mostly just shiny rhinestones. "I don't know about you, pal, but I'm pretty sure the belle of the ball is not a tree climber. Let me just..." He grabs for the necklace, intending to bring it down.

The second he tugs it free, a trap goes off, and Pikachu just narrowly ducks getting a dart rigged from a contraption right above him that he missed- rogue he is not. That is the good news. The bad news is it's hard to dodge on a tree branch and down he goes with a scream to the ground below. It's only about fifteen feet. He'll be fine. Just irritated.

my d20 is cursed it rolled 8 perception

[viciousmaukery]

“Movies didn’t exist for me until last year,” Molly huffs, a little indignant, but then adds, “I’ll hold you to that.” He’s not about to turn a free thing down.

He looks around again, keeping a wary eye out for tracks, claw marks, hints of anything that could belong to a creature that’s been living here a while. He spies Pikachu running for something and walks briskly behind and below him, his attention focused on the little yellow rodent and the slight glimmer of something. They must be on the right track—

And Molly’s boot breaks a tripwire at that very second. He hears something whirring to life in the distance, a click-click-click noise like multiple things have just slotted right into place, and wisely throws himself to the ground as a row of darts slams right into the tree he was in front of just seconds before. Thank god for a +3 dex save bonus Molly’s adventure-honed instincts because that would have been very bad. He scrambles back with a streak of Infernal nonsense spilling out of his mouth, but it doesn’t seem to take effect.

He hears the this, and lets out a real curse: “Fuck.”

He gets to his feet and rushes over to the little rodent, already pulling a sword halfway out like he’s ready to fight someone. Then he blinks, and visibly forces himself to relax, sliding the sword back into its sheath. “Bruised your tail something fierce, huh?” he asks, then, “Do you hear anything else whirring?”

dice jail!!

[fursleuth]

"I hate you. Ow." Pikachu lets out a deeply pained groan as he crawls awkwardly to a sitting position. His back aches, but he'll be fine. He's taken worse hits. He shakes himself off, realizes that was a bad idea with how rattled his little head is and staggers.

"Not at the moment, but it looks like we ain't the only ones hunting, amigo," he mutters, wandering over the foliage on the forest floor to see if he can sniff out one of the darts. He only manages to find one embedded in a nearby tree, but it's too high up for him to get a good read on from the ground, and he's a bit gun-shy about trees at the moment. "Hey, c'mere. What's that look like to you?"

[viciousmaukery]

The dart's at Molly's height, and he turns the collar of his coat up as he glances around, uneasy. He'd much rather be facing those terrible, terrible bandits right now than—whoever else is hunting too, that whir-click-click-click noise is nothing he's ever heard before, and he doesn't think the Infernal nonsense he yelled in its direction did its job.

He takes hold of the dart and yanks it out, turning it over in his hand. It's a small, clear, plastic cylinder with a red tail attached and something left inside it, and Molly has to think for a moment because he's actually fairly certain he might've seen something like this in his time here. Just not from up close.

"Looks like a crossbow bolt," he says, finally. "Only less lethal. Could've had something inside it meant to slow someone down or knock them out. I don't know what the name is, but I do know it means you're right—someone else is looking." He shakes his head, then crouches down.

"Can you keep up with me on the ground, or am I going to have to carry you?" he asks. "Less traps down here, I'm sure, no one's ever said the Devil walked up on anyone."

[fursleuth]

"Tranquilizer," Pikachu supplies automatically with a bitten off curse. "Ohhhh I do not like this. This is bad."

They're looking and not they're not looking to make conversation or start a dialogue, which is expected of people who can't speak Cryptid like Pikachu barely can, but it's still sticking in his craw a bit. The whole thing with Mewtwo still gets his static up.

But at least Molly's offer is a distraction from him going through a dozen worst case scenarios. A ride would be nice. He's considering the offer an invitation and begins to climb up that fancy coat. "You're a peach. That was a bad fall and these lungs were not built for a marathon hike through the woods. Plus you've got hand-holds up here. Almost as good as a shoulder saddle."

'Hand-holds' with jewelry, but eh. He can work around that once he gets his chubby little arms around one of Molly's curved horns so he can balance.

[viciousmaukery]

Oh, okay, so that's the name.

"You're telling me," Molly mutters, unease prickling up the back of his neck. He doesn't like this. He really doesn't. He'd come out here expecting the only trouble to be finding a way back into civilization with a sick cryptid in his arms, now there's other hunters to worry about and this talking rodent who he's going to have to make sure makes it out of this alive.

—and Pikachu's gripping onto his horns. Molly, unused to the weight, has to catch himself from falling over, bracing himself with a palm flat against the ground. "Mind the jewelry, some of that's expensive," he chides. For once he's telling the truth, he'd splurged to be as eye-catching as possible.

He gets to his feet, looking around, and starts moving, tail swaying behind him. "All the stories I heard said he's attracted to whatever looks shiny," he says, "and to sounds of couples doing what couples do when they're alone with no one around. You know any other ways to get its attention?" Because Molly might not be easily embarrassed, but there's just something about making fake sex noises around this little mouse that just—it would just feel kinda wrong.

[fursleuth]

"This?" Pikachu's got a parakeet-eye-view of some of that stuff and it looks gaudy as hell, but what does he know? He's not a jeweler. "Wow. You're... Actually serious. You paid actual money to look like that much like an eyesore for the sake of a con."

Should he be insulting his ride after complaining about his tiny grape lungs? Probably not. Is it reflexive? Absolutely. He stress snarks. It's a medical condition.

He clings tighter as Molly stands and delights in the rush of the change in perspective. Man, it feels good when you're not looking at shit from the ground level. "I mean you've got the right idea, that's the important part. I could probably throw off a few sparks, but I don't think that'd have the same effect." He pats his horn. "You can be bait. Just watch out for more of those traps, chief. These yutzes don't sound like they're screwin' around."

[viciousmaukery]

"Not just for the con," says Molly. "Most of it's for me."

...true, he's going to wear this back into the city and look like one of those fashion models from avant-garde fashion shows doing it. You know, the ones modeling clothes that would never actually be seen out in the streets, ever.

"Of course I'm keeping an eye out, what do you think I am," he huffs. It's then, though, that he hears a high, distressed, pained moan, somewhere nearby. That kind of pain can't be faked, and now more than ever they have to find this poor bastard before the other hunters on its trail do. He turns to where he heard the sound, somewhere—southeast, he thinks? Well, definitely to his left.

His hand rests on the hilt of a scimitar. "This way," he says, "and keep an eye out for uninvited guests, yeah? We can't count on luck to keep us safe forever."

[fursleuth]

A purple horned person with questionable fashion sense, but Pikachu keeps that to himself- mainly because the Pokemon universe has literally no reason to insult anyone's fashion sense. There's no excuse for Gym Leader couture.

He clings harder, a furry 15-lb limpet clinging to Molly's shoulders with stubby arms wrapped around both horns like he's decided to turn his new tiefling companion into a walking motorcycle. A forest is a Pikachu's favored terrain, but this Pikachu is an urban dwelling creature who almost got murdered by a forest.

"I got a good run of bad luck on my side," he mutters. "I never count on luck." His ears flick, catching sounds and the pained moan comes again, louder this time and so distressed that his ears droop. "That way." He sort of tries to jerk Molly's head in a direction, because he is The Worst. "That is not a happy sound. Those hunter assholes didn't come here to screw around."

[viciousmaukery]

"Ow ow ow ow, don't yank!" Molly reaches up a hand to try and smack Pikachu for trying to jerk his head in a direction he's already taking, gods, ow. He has a few regrets now. Ow. "If you've got any tricks up your sleeve," besides yanking on people's horns like a total jerkface, "now's probably the time."

And leaves crunch, twigs break under the soles of his boots, as he walks into a clearing. Something flaps weakly nearby, and he turns and looks up into the trees to see a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness. He can just about see the outline of great leathery wings, resting against the bark. "Found you," he says, softly. To Pikachu, as he jerks his head up towards the cryptid in the darkness: "Go talk to him, see if you can talk him down from there. I'll keep our uninvited guests off your back."

(And somewhere, unnoticed by Molly, another twig cracks.)

[fursleuth]

"Ow! Watch the fingernails!" Yes, they're doing so well right now, slapfighting like children as they try to rescue a poor cryptid. Pikachu keeps his extra tricks up his metaphorical sleeve to himself, because, quite frankly, his electrical attacks are highly unreliable. He can only seem to remember them when he gets a little bit of static going or gets stressed.

He's a little bit stressed. That's good. And the creature isn't being attacked and is just there in the trees looking anxious, which is also good. This could maybe go well enough to not end in a giant fight.

"All right." Pikachu takes a deep breath and hops from Molly's shoulder to the tree, the act causing him to also miss the extra twig cracks. "Heeeey, pal," he says, as he climbs. "Just stay put. We're the good guys."

The cryptid does not seem convinced, but it doesn't move. Good?

Pikachu is affronted by its tone. "Wow. Sound more skeptical, why don'tcha? Look at me. Do I look threatening to you?"

[viciousmaukery]

Ah, yes, they’re quite the crack team, slapping at each other like children. Molly rests a hand on the hilt of his sword, tuning Pikachu’s conversation out to try and listen much more closely to his surroundings.

And because he rolled a natural twenty for once in his life, he hears leaves crunching under someone else’s boots, a too-loud murmur about I didn’t know cryptids gathered together here, and the clicking sound of a tranquilizer gun being loaded and aimed. Molly stays very, very still for a moment, and then shouts, “Get down!”

The dart doesn’t manage to actually stick into his neck, Molly throws himself down too fast for that, but it cuts a shallow slice along the side of his neck on the way. He blinks, shaking some of the dizziness off, and staggers to his feet. “What the fuck,” he says. It comes out sounding more like whu-th’fuck?

Someone else says, “Ah shit, it’s an imPort,” and three OTO agents, armed with tranquilizers and wheeling some kind of portable machine with three holes just large enough for three darts, step into the clearing.

Ah, Molly thinks, we’re fucked.

[fursleuth]

"WHOA WHAT?" Pikachu snaps around, clutching onto the tree trunk with all his might while the cryptid makes a mournful noise from the trees and tries to make itself as unobtrusive as possible.

"Guessing those are the baddies, huh?" Pikachu cries out, dropping onto the ground and bolting over to Molly. "Don't worry, pal. I got this. Let me do the talking."

He turns to the OTO agents, clears his throat, and says, "Excuse me. Hi. Do you fellas happen to have a permit for that thing? 'Cause I'm gonna need to see some documentation."

He is The Best.

the dice took me on such a journey

[viciousmaukery]

The OTO agents look at each other, as if weighing their odds against two imPorts. Granted, one's a little yellow mouse thing, and the other is woozy and uncoordinated, but still. Do they really want to take their chances?

One of them shrugs, and says, "Yeah, do you two happen to have any permits? This is, y'know, uh, government property you're trespassing on." (Molly giggles, where he's clutching onto a tree trunk for support, because that is such a bad lie.) "So just move along like good little government stooges—"

"Oh shut up," hisses another, much scrawnier, swatting irritatedly at something buzzing around his head like he's much more used to a more controlled, sterile environment than out here in the forest. He and the last agent train their tranq guns on Pikachu and Molly. "They're fuckin' imPorts, they're not gonna move along—"

"Actually," Molly interrupts, weaving unsteadily over to Pikachu, "actually, my good fellows, he's right. We're working for the government here, but incognito." In the loosest sense possible. He pushes the traces of magic his infernal heritage has left him into his voice, summons up a charming smile, and says, slightly slurring, "Why don't you lovely, lovely people move along and—let us take care of things here? Yeah? I'm sure you've got other more important things to do."

And he holds his charming smile even as he grips the hilt of a sword very tightly. The one who just spoke blinks, a little blearily, as the magic takes hold, and says, "Y'know. Y'know, I'm thinkin', might not even be real."

"I'm missing Days of Our Lives right now, actually," says the other agent, her aim wavering.

Then the first agent smacks one of his companions on the head and snarls, "Focus, dickbrain! Those are fucking imPorts messing with your head!" Which seems to do the trick for that one, because the tranq gun whips around towards Molly again and fires, managing to scratch over an arm even as he tries to pivot away with a curse. Then the guy loads again, very angry now that his head's been messed with, and fires at Pikachu.

oh my god this is going so well...

[fursleuth]

Yeah, Pikachu did not make that save with that nine (NEIN). It catches him right in the shoulder, just barely missing his neck- given how little shoulder-to-neck ratio there is, that is a miracle. The problem is he's small and there's not a whole lot of body mass going on there, so he's already feeling a bit woozy in the second between the shock fades and he tries to do something.

"Okay... Now 'm mad," he drawls languidly, ruining the threat. Stress response has always worked in the past to get his powers working and today is no exception. His cheeks crackle with electricity and he fires off a warning Thundershock that crackles around the first agent for ruining what could have been a very good plan. That's gonna hurt.

"Next one's an Electro Ball, you putz." He staggers a bit on four legs, his voice still drunk with tranquilizer and losing all illusion of intimidation by the second. "Try me."

they're new dice why are they like this (tw: blood)

[viciousmaukery]

The cryptid right now is trying very, very hard not to be seen, because its rescuers are very bad at rescuing.

Molly, on the other hand, lets out a slightly giggly whistle. But he points one wavering finger at the agent that smacked the other one out of his charm-induced stupor and spits out a string of harsh, Infernal syllables. ("Fiddle-deedle-fuck-you-dee!") The man flinches back, for a second, but rallies with a snarl—

—just as the one still under Molly's charm turns around to knock the butt of her tranq gun against the side of his head. "Stop that!" she snaps. "They're imPorts, for god's sake, let's just move along and leave them to whatever weird shit they're getting up to."

"Stacy," says the man, "you can hear yourself, right?" He slaps her cheek and says, "Snap out of it!"

"Oh, fuck you," spits Stacy-or-whatever, having rolled a grand total of four on her save. Molly quietly thanks the Moonweaver for whatever is keeping his magic's hold over her, because he really does not think he and Pikachu are up for three on a very woozy two.

The other guy steps away from this brewing drama, loads up again as if to fire—

Molly tilts his head. Blood soaks through the side of his collar as the red eye on the side of his neck bursts, and the man reels back with a curse as his eyes go black, tears of blood running down his cheeks as he flails about, panicked. But his finger pulls the trigger even as he reels back, and now there's a dart sticking right out of Molly's shoulder.

"Oh, fuck," says Molly, very, very woozy. He's a sturdy fellow, and this dosage isn't exactly the strongest, but one more dart and he'll be out for the count. He's already this close to collapsing.

they must be baptized in failure

[fursleuth]

Oh sweet mother of Arceus. There's a lot happening.

In fact there's so much happening that it's important to know that Pikachu's last cup of coffee was a pretty long time ago, combine that with adrenaline and the tranquilizer and the last dregs of it may have sorely flushed itself from his system. He's not aware of that.

He's aware he's very sleepy and Molly's fucked up, and their cryptid friend is in trouble.

Panicking, he turns tail and runs to the tree because no one taught him about attacks of opportunity. "FLY! FLY AWAY! GET OUTTA HERE! GO! SHOO!" He panic flails, trying to get the cryptid to move without it drawing fire from the OTO agents. He is feeling super not great right now.