maskormenacelogs | [CLOSED]

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WHO: Jayden Revell, Jorah Mormont, and Petyr Baelish.
WHERE: The long and elaborate sewer system of Philadelphia
WHEN: Sometime in December
WHAT: Baelish is determined to get his hands on one of the Alterams. This search leads this merry band of misfits into the sewer system. Wacky adventures ensue.
WARNINGS: Mild violence and sewer grossness.

[ Although Petyr absolutely hates getting his hands dirty, there are certain situations where it's a necessity. The imPorts can't help him on this matter, so he has to help himself. Which is why the three of them (and rodents) stand before a manhole. For once, Baelish is not in a fancy tunic. He's dressed in a pair of throw away jeans, work boots, a T-shirt and a sweat jacket. It's the epitome of garbage clothing in his eyes. ]

Jorah, do you mind lifting the cover?

[ Baelish asks, managing to swallow his bile in anticipation of the smell. God, he is not looking forward to this. But there is someone among them who is looking forward to it. He spares a glance at Mouse. ]

There should be a ladder leading down, correct? [ Several mockingbirds hover in the air, holding onto a backpack that contains flashlights, water bottles, knives, rope, bandages and a few other first aid items as well as a couple of snacks and blankets just in case things got bad and they get stuck down there for longer than they anticipate.

But these things never go bad, really! Should be all smooth sailing from here, of course. Of course. ]

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[ If Jorah looked prickled before, the quake resigns him into a more cynical bristle, manhole hook swung idle around his wrist, brows taking on a judgmental slant while Baelish -- Baelishes. Your grace. The bad taste in his mouth can’t be blamed entirely upon the stink. ]

Giant alligators?

[ His voice echoes ahead as he reaches to take the offered flashlight, mild despite tension winding up the back of his hand. ]

It’s much harder to keep you alive when you insist on joining expeditions into hell.

[ A friendly FYI in aside, in place of a suggestion that Baelish wait topside. ]

I had assumed all of them would be dead. And if there was still one alive, that Philadelphia would have called imPorts in to take it down. It...cannot be as strong as they were during the attack.

[ He speaks reassuringly -- though who he's reassuring is anyone's guess. It might simply be himself. But logically, it can't be at full strength. If it was, it would have leveled the city by now. It might be pretty strong, and with the team they have....well it would still be a challenge. But they are far enough away that they can plan now and go in with a strategy. ]

I believe we should be able to take it on. There were three ways they could be defeated. Through brute force -- though the harder we hit it, the harder the tremors. Getting inside of it and destroying it from within. And suffocating it. The latter, we should be able to accomplish. Mouse and I have an army. And you, Jorah, should be able to at least back it into a corner where Mouse and I can get the upperhand. Seal off its pores so it's unable to breathe.

Or....whatever it does.

[ ... Holy crap, Mouse hadn't realized that Jorah could talk. He actually jumps a bit, staring back at the man with wide, startled eyes as the rats circle around their prince's feet like a tiny royal guard. ]

... Um. How's he gonna back it into a corner if he can't punch it? Any earthquakes down here would just make the sewer collapse on us.

[ Some of the rats begin to scout ahead, and Mouse follows in their wake, crouched low to the ground in case of another tremor. ]

I mean, we're strong, but we can't hold up a roof.

[ Mouse stares at Jorah and Jorah stares back, rough in the face, eyes squinted at him like a rhinoceros’ in the semi-dark. A very skeptical, unhappy to be in a sewer teeming with rats and birds rhinoceros. In overalls.

Rather than answer immediately, he glances to Baelish and busies himself with testing the flashlight. On, off, on.

Rats seethe in the circle of light where he aims it, and he pretends not to see before clicking it firmly off again. This is fine. ]

I’ll transform into a bear.

If it's strong enough to pose a real danger to us, we will leave and return with more reinforcements.

[ Baelish doesn't mind retreating now that they know this thing is here and they'll be able to get it in their grasp one way or the other. But he would prefer to do it now. He nods at Jorah. Bear form would work best here.

He keeps his flashlight straight ahead so that the birds can see where they're flying. Aren't they just a motley crew with all their animals and animal forms. Or rather, a Motley Zoo. ]

What's that up ahead?

[ Baelish spots the shadow of something. Not large enough to be their creature. But whatever it is, it's standing in their path. ]

Edited 2017-01-06 02:12 (UTC)

[ Mouse squints into the darkness and the wave of rats surges to a halt, sending three individual rodents out of the mass to scout further ahead. The shadowy figure grumbles something unintelligible as they skitter a loop around his feet, and when they head back to their prince, Mouse breaks into a grin bright enough to rival the flashlights. ]

Guys! It's ok, he's a sewer-hobo!

[ He waves at the figure up ahead, and starts making his way towards the... er, possible sewer-hobo. ]

I didn't think anyone else would be down here! Are you royalty, too?

[ Who or whatever it is, Jorah (discretely) draws in closer to Baelish’s back in the dark, moving slow. No one mentioned that there might be other people down here.

But he’s just here for support, silent disapproval of Mouse’s enthusiastic approach like a black hole of reproach over Petyr’s shoulder -- something to be felt rather than seen. Their flashlights are pointed forward; his is off.

That he chokes up his grip on his steel hook is difficult to detect. ]

[ A sewer-hobo. Spoken in a reassuring tone by Mouse. He can only offer a deadpan stare at the rat king in the manner of are you serious? Before he spares a glance back at Jorah, aware of the man's proximity. It's with a sigh that he conveys -- this is Mouse's domain. That is why he's down here. And who knows? Maybe he'll be able to talk to this new guy -- from one sewer-hobo to the next. They might have their own language.

Baelish's birds hang back, fluttering to his shoulders and perching upon them. And as they get closer to this so-called sewer-hobo, all of a sudden the sewer system gets awfully bright. It takes a second to realize that that's because there is fire. And that fire is coming from the sewer-hobo's hands.

Petyr curses and suddenly backs up. ]

You might have offended him. [ Said to Mouse. ]

[ But. The sewer-hobo is probably just crazy. It seems to be a common theme. ]

Edited 2017-01-14 04:12 (UTC)

What?! But I meant it in a good way!

[ He might be 'royalty' in some small furry circles, but Mouse isn't the kind of leader who's practiced at hiding his emotions, and the look on his face as he glances over his shoulder at Baelish is one of open dismay. The rats give the sewer-hobo a cautious berth, spreading out on either side of him as if he'd just parted the sea, and Mouse ducks into a springy crouch, ready to parkour around this sewer tunnel like a ping-pong ball or fight if he needs to. ]

It was a compliment! I lived in sewers too! The only reason I'm in a house is because the sewers in Heropa aren't as nice as these ones!

[ Helpfully, Ser Jorah puts a stop to Baelish’s retreat with a hand at the small of his back, steady as a cliff face in the shadows behind him. Don’t be rude, Petyr.

It’s just a flaming hobo. And Mouse seems to be drawing the bulk of his attention, anyway. ]

If you want me to snuff the fire, give the word.

[ He keeps his voice low, so as not to be overheard by either of their new friends. ]

[ Thanks, Jorah. Petyr is half tempted to shove Jorah over and get the hell out. But one, there's no shoving Jorah out of the way. And two, he probably can't get out of the line of fire, so to speak. So it's a lost cause to try. Petyr is about to agree that snuffing out the flame is for the best -- sorry, Mouse. But this guy is too dangerous -- when the sewer hobo starts spouting out some nonsense at them.

'It's the only safe place!' He shouts -- seemingly torn between killing them and educating them. 'They're poisoning our dairy supply up there. Mind control agents. The government! You can't trust them! You think you can, but you can't. I know the truth. I've known it for years, but I can see it so clearly now!'

It's probably nonsense. But Baelish can't help but think maybe crazy sewer hobo might have a small bit of information for them. And Mouse seems to have gotten through to at least get the man to stop throwing flames at them. ]

Keep him talking, Your Grace.

[ He says to Mouse and then looks at Jorah, nodding forward. It seems safe to get a bit closer. For now. ]

Do the cows work for the government, too? Are they being brainwashed?

[ Mouse asks the questions in total sincerity. He isn't just trying to keep the conversation going, he seems genuinely interested in the answers, and as he edges closer to the sewer-hobo, he straightens up out of his battle-ready crouch and into more of a casual lope. ]

... Is chocolate milk still safe?

[ asking all the important questions, here! ]

[ Jorah tenses more at the shouting than he did at the initial burst of fire, distrust cemented in the hard line of his mouth. His fingers grapple in at the back of Petyr’s cloak, ready to shove him out of the way.

It all sounds like nonsense to him, doubled down in Mouse’s concerns about treasonous cows and chocolate milk.

Enough that he’s reluctant to shoulder forward at Baelish’s nod, footsteps slow and cautious at Mouse’s back. He approaches dragons the same way -- with care taken not to spook or offend. ]

Offer him something to eat.

[ Backseat negotiating. ]

[ It's a good idea. The man looks like he's starving. Baelish reaches into his own pack once he's gotten to Mouse's side and nudges a pack of cheese crackers into his hand as well as a bottle of water, nodding forward for crazy sewer hobo. He trusts Mouse to understand that these are their peace offerings and to carry them over.

But mister Jonathan Williams does seem keen to at least answer Mouse's questions. 'They created the cows. The cows are willing participants. They work for them.'

There's a low rumble under their feet from the monster lurking in the sewers. Petyr steadies himself by gripping Jorah's shoulder and mutters to the man: ]

I think we might be able to find a place for him in Doctor Chilton's hospital. It might be a bit more beneficial to take him along with us.

[ Baelish startles Mouse out of the conversation, and it takes a few seconds for him to understand what's being asked of him. Once the lightbulb goes off, he shuffles a bit closer to Mr. Williams and holds the snack food out at arm's length. ]

Oh! Right. Uh...

Here. The cheese in the crackers didn't come from the evil cows, we promise. We'd know if it did.

[ That seems good enough for the sewer-hobo, at least! The tremor sends the rats scurrying up the walls, and Mouse drops into a wary, steadying crouch again. ]

... Should we get out of here? That sounded like it was getting closer...

[ Reluctance sets hard in Jorah’s nose at mention of Chilton’s hospital, but he nods, swallowing resistance with pride. Like a good sellsword.

He sizes their sewer hobo up like a filthy, flea-ridden, fire-breathing dog Baelish wants to take along for the ride, but offers no argument there, either. They’ll make it work. ]

We’re here for the monster, [ he tells the hobo, and maybe Mouse, if he’s thinking of turning tail. And then in quieter aside to Petyr: ]

We can try to take him with us, or leave a bird and collect him on our way back. If I bind him he might burn through the rope.

[ Mr. Williams approaches with caution, but a definite hunger. He seems suspicious of the packaging, and this close you can really smell how rank he is. But as the vibrations from the alterram shake the ground beneath them, there's a sharper expression that crosses his face. And for a moment, just a moment, the man seems of the utmost coherence. "They want to replace us. All of us. They can control these ones, not like us, and they'll do whatever they want. Where will we be then?"

Baelish regards the man curiously and after a moment, he's about to respond to Jorah until the monster suddenly makes itself noticeable. It's only half of a torso, dragging itself by its monstrous arms. But it's still fairly intimidating in its own right. For just a fleeting moment, Baelish gets second thoughts. Maybe they should turn tail and get out of there.

But. But. ]

It's already damaged. We should be able to do this.

[ Mouse instantly grabs Mr. Williams by the shoulders (as someone who is averse to showers himself, he doesn't even notice the smell!), whirls the man around, and shoves him towards Jorah and Baelish. Fire powers or not, Mr. Williams didn't sign up to fight a giant monster. ]

You said to suffocate it, right? Rats! Swarm!

[ The rats surge up the walls and start pouring down on top of the monster's body like rainwater. For every rat that's shaken loose, another scrambles up to take its place, and with a noise that's practically a roar, Mouse lunges at one of the creature's arms. ]

[ What Mr. Williams has to say next sees Jorah looking in more direct aside to Baelish, lines furrowed in deep around the hood of his brow, jaw edged out into an underbite. What?

They don’t have a chance to hash it out.

He drops his hook with an echoing clang, glare cut from Baelish to the hobo Mouse has shoved at them in warning to keep his fire hands to himself. His coveralls are already tight on his shoulders before he’s unzipped to skiv out of them, more bear than man in a matter of seconds -- great, huffing jaws, meathook claws and a mountain of muscle rolling down the sewer line to drive his weight onto the monster with all the grace of a derailed train.

He does, at least, make a last second course adjustment to come at it from the side opposite Mouse, rather than directly over him. ]

[ Well. Aren't they a regular old zoo? With a sharp and shrill whistle, the few mockingbirds that followed come flying in to join the rodent army -- offering their support by helping to carry some of the rodents up higher or pecking at the creature's eyes to render it blind. The tremors around them are sloshing up the most putrid smelling of sewer goo, but it's only enough to make the ground a bit unstable -- not enough to bring the walls down around them.

It's weak. They can do this. With Jorah muscling the creature into the corner and Mouse's rodents suffocating it, everything appears to be working out in their favor. That is, until the flashlight Baelish had been helpfully shining on the scene gets knocked from his hands when he looses his balance after a particularly large tremor.

The flashlight drops and breaks, leaving them in complete darkness. It renders the birds blind since they don't really have night vision at all and they flutter around in a panic. And whatever else happens in the dark, let it be known that the monster they're fighting doesn't necessarily have to see anything to do its damage. And it's attempting to plow Jorah over while struggling to shake the rodents out of its air pores. ]

[ Rats can't quite see in the dark, but they have a much easier time navigating it than humans or birds do, and while a number of rats are thrown from the monster's back, just as many come skittering up its forearms as reinforcements. Mouse isn't nearly as good at handling the darkness as his subjects are, though, and the deep tremors shaking the ground make him lose his footing and splash backwards into the muck. ]

Mr... Sewer-hobo, whatever your name was! We need light! Just don't set any of us on fire, please!

[ Mr. Williams is nice enough to oblige, and the flames in his hands dimly light up the tunnel like a pair of torches. Under his breath, he mutters something about evil cheese crackers. Mouse chooses that moment to lunge at the monster's forearm again, shouting "Rat trap! Rat trap!" like a battlecry.]

[ Ser Jorah rolls in the sewage like something out of the world’s gnarliest car wash, bristles slinging filthy water, clawing for purchase on old brick. His grunting bellow quakes through the sludge in echo of Mouse’s war cry, rippling outward as he lunges half-blind back into the fray.

Rats not quick enough to slither out of his way are in danger of being crushed as he champs his jaws for purchase against the monster’s armor.

There’s nothing especially calculated or strategic about it, all slobber and gruff, garbled blustering in the firelight. ]

[ When the light illuminates the tunnel once again, the birds regain themselves and swoop in to pluck a few rodents by their tails, lifting them in the air just in time before Jorah squashes them under his bear bulk. The land and air alliance is just as strong as it was the first time in Philadelphia.

Petyr scrambles to pick up one of the other flashlights, turning it on to give them a bit more light. And it seems their hard work pays off when the monster weakens, arms flying about sluggishly -- its struggle becomes less and less as its deprived of its precious air.

And then, it succumbs -- collapsing before them with one final, dying tremor. Only when it does, does Petyr let out the breath he had pretty much been holding the entire time. ]

Is everyone all right?

[ Mouse shoots Baelish a huge, beaming grin that's only slightly dimmed by the all the sewer muck streaked across his face, and the tangle of wet hair in his eyes. He's a little bruised and banged up from the fight (he'd refocused his attention on the monster's other arm, because nope, getting in the way of Jorah the angry rampaging werebear was not a good idea), but otherwise he seems to be in pretty good shape! ]

We're ok! Mr. Jorah's still a bear, but I think he's ok too! Thank you for saving the rats, can you tell your birds I said thanks?

[ Sprawled wide over the beast’s corpse, Jorah is slow to slough off to the side, slick with black sludge. Streaks of red rope down into the sewage around him, but he’s solid on all fours, eyes flashing ghostly green in Baelish’s light when he swings his great, flat head round to the sound of his voice. He’s breathing hard, sides sweeping in and out.

Flecks of foam drip from his jaws, and he stretches his neck long to snuff after Mouse nearby, like a thousand pound labrador nosing for table scraps. ]

[ The birds make a trilling chirp in response to Mouse. They understand. They've been around Baelish long enough to understand human speak. But they can't talk back in ways Mouse would understand. So Petyr interprets for them. ]

They said you're welcome. But also that the ones they rescued could stand to eat a little less cheese.

[ What. Birds tell it like it is. Petyr spares a glance toward Jorah bear. Now, Jorah had told him he turns into a bear -- but Baelish neglected to learn whether or not Jorah can control himself in bear form or not. So hopefully he doesn't try to eat them. ]

Do you need tending to, Ser Jorah?

[ And in the concern he's doling out for the knight, Baelish neglects to realize that their sewer hobo had run off. ]

[ Mouse is trying to edge away from Jorah the Werebear as subtly as he can, but there's no way to do it without noisily sloshing through the sewer muck. Jorah is intimidating enough as a human, but as a giant, snuffling bear, he's enough to make anyone pretty nervous! ]

He's, uh... he's not rabid, is he? Are you, Mr. Jorah? It's just, you're kinda foaming, and... can you hear us?

What about you, Mr. Sewer-Hobo? How are... oh.

[ They are officially -1 sewer hobo! ]

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