anyway once they speak, he nods, politely straightening back up. the respirator feeling is unpleasant, but he leans on his staff a little and tries to ignore it for the moment, giving off his usual - relaxed, confident, calm. ]
Rare, but hopefully no less welcome. I promise we won't take up much of your time.
[ are they wearing the chains, too? ] There are some matters we'd like your opinion on.
[ they're... knives. long blades that are carefully held, as though reverent. and... actually.
the two look to be in... fairly okay condition. their aprons have dark stains on them. one of them is going to be just picking out one of the bulls, because he seems way more into his work than actually talking. the other, however, doesn't seem to mind talking.
"we're butchers," the first one says. "we take care of the meat."
well at least they're not like, dying. or maybe they are. who knows! decent condition is better than whatever shoma and charles have going on at the moment, not that he knows that. he's eyeing those knives but at least he's unintimidated. ]
I see.
[ okay. ] You both seem as though you're experts in the craft. How long have you served in this position in this place?
keith is just going to continue to kinda observe what the other guy is doing, while keeping an ear on what tem is talking to the first dude about. ]
What’s your selection process for the cattle?
[ he sure is going to attempt to talk to thus dude, even though he seems completely uninterested. it’s fine. maybe he likes dogs?? kosmo help us. help us kosmo. ]
[ the knife glistens, freshly sharpened, still a little wet and clean. the blade is a long thing, meant for butchery, wide and cleaving, meant to sever muscle, split bone, kill.
to their questions: ]
We've served here in the plant for years. My sentence is life. His... [ jerking a thumb to the one who is now pulling out a dusty-looking black bull from the back of the pen, one that is trying to tug back from the leash ] Long enough that it may as well be.
[ keith can watch him. while his coworker chews the cud with you two, he will work. because this is a temple. a temple of labor. as he brings the somewhat skittish bull over towards the edge of the pit actually and slides a superficial cut along its shoulders, through its hide, releasing a warm flow of blood. the bull lets out a long, angry groan, pulls against the lead, but there's no purchase from where it's tied. it stomps, paws at the ground. fearful. but it doesn't kick and it doesn't bite, doesn't even try to gore the one dragging it here.
i won't be super gross about it - it's not a fatal wound. he dips his fingers in that blood, and he proceeds to draw what look to be... symbols. designs. in the black fur, it's hard to see it, but it discolors slightly, so you can make it out. symbols you don't know, can't place, but seem to follow some kind of anatomical purpose. ]
We select each according to the mother earth. They are culled and curated... and then sent our way.
[ WELL. HMM. temenos tenses - it's almost unnoticeable, though keith staying nearby will likely see the way his hand curls tighter around his staff.
a life sentence, and one that may as well be. the butchery happening doesn't make him flinch - the smell, the callousness of it, it's fine. he's entirely focused for now on the man with the glistening knife, battle senses alert. ]
Have you worked under the same plant head since you arrived? [ not the foreman, but the plant owner. ] And have you always worked with cattle?
[ he does catch the way temenos tenses, as he's blinking and shaking his own head. steals a glance over at him to make sure he's alright.
then he's just staring, watching this man do his duty. his job. the task given to him, that he is forced to carry out, alongside his sentence. keith's face scrunches. it's not like the act of slaughtering is new to him, just, ya know.... a bit different.
he'll never get used to it. not really. but he shoves those feelings aside for later. and instead watches as the man makes symbols of blood in the bull's fur, memorizing them as his eyes follow. ]
Mother earth? [ (teddy voice) what do you mean by that?
also, uh, how is kosmo doing during all this... considering his previous encounter with a bull. seeing this sure is something. i have given partial custody to kosmo to you. ]
[ and this slaughter seems. methodical. the creature isn't dead, it is uncomfortable, but it is silent, as though it knows what it is... meant for, an animal resigned, eyes glazing over, drooling. its ears twitch, and his hooves paw the ground, but then it grows silent... silent... temenos can feel this silence permeating, like a semi-colon on their existence. it begins to sit, heavily, on his shoulders. heavily... heavily.
i cannot trust... i cannot... ]
Cattle are what we handle. Only cattle. And... yes. There has been no other that has owned us but the Boös.
[ owned. like animals. a barn for animals. a slaughterhouse for animals.
and uh kosmo? is kind of frozen in place. kosmo's tail is down and low and his ears are back, pinned. he's not barking, he's not moving, but his ears are swiveling again, and his head cants towards the hole in the ground. the big, deep hole in the ground.
the second butcher looks over at them both, at the remark to "mother earth", and smiles. unsettlingly. his eyes are glazed over, his knife bloody as he guides the bull towards the edge of the hole. it doesn't balk, it doesn't scream, it is docile and low-headed.
keith can feel a heaviness on his shoulders, heavy, so very heavy, weighty, like the burdens of a old promise press down upon him. the burdens of the universe, the burdens of the heart.
saved me... saved me.... saved me............ ]
The mother earth is critical in all matters of meat.
see, maybe two or three days ago, this wouldn't have been as effective as it is. it would have been upsetting, sure. but a discussion with viktor recently throws those words into complete and utter clarity, makes them slice like the knife through the meat. big, white, unblinking eyes, bones and agony. a flippant journal entry. petrichor hunted down the man with the darkblood bow. a desperate statement from the doorway. a figure, gone.
i can no longer trust - it...it cannot be allowed to exist!
it's a good thing that the effects from the ship don't resonate here because the force it takes to suppress any reaction is violent. temenos manages to do so. thirty years of composure means his face doesn't even twitch, but the weight of that phrase on his shoulders makes his throat dry. it's not real, he reminds himself. it's just like the last time.
he white knuckles his staff but doesn't otherwise react. ]
[ not sure what makes him freeze more, to be honest. the way kosmo is reacting instantly puts him on edge, hand twitching at his side, where his plasma blade sits, strapped to his leg. ]
How do you...[ that smile is so. deranged. it puts him further on edge, eyes shifting from him, to kosmo, to the bull, and then to the hole. ] So this mother earth determines what cattle you slaughter, rather than the one in charge?
[ he's trying to stay focused, but man. this voice in his head. these words. they're familiar. too familiar. where are they coming from?? he watches the man and the bull, glancing at the hole. ]
The son? [ the first one asks, his eyes a little glazed still, he looks... confused.
has he forgotten?
then the second speaks: ]
We ask the mother and she tells us which are suitable meat... the supervisor provides the cattle... we sort... and we choose... and we deign what is good for the mother. For the earth.
[ now as for the origin of the voices? well. hard to say where they're coming from. they don't... seem to be coming from the hole, rather, they seem to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. untraceable, untrackable.
the man with the bull takes his knife and traces one long line along its hide. it twitches, shakes its head again.
and then he shoves it. right into the fucking hole, just really puts his entire weight to get this massive beast off balance with his own bulk, and he sends it tumbling down, down, down, down...
down...
down...
the beast hollers, in the way that cattle do, an ugly, trembling sound, warbling and fading.
there is no sound of reaching the bottom.
there is only... a sudden silence. ]
Edited (wow the entire top half of my tag.) 2024-04-09 16:47 (UTC)
[ silence. silence beyond the silence. there are still the noises of the plant about, the ones that greeted you before when you entered.
but there's a layer of silence here that shakes your reality, that suddenly warps your perspective. suddenly you realize...
that not all is as it seemed.
the two men? they're covered in blood, more blood than before, viscera and meat on their boots, on their skin, slicking them. their skin is coated red from it. and those cattle in the back? well. they're still cattle, rabbling and rousing... but there is also something on the slab, a green jacket. a knit cap. the same that the girl in the missing persons reports was wearing. covered in blood, blood, blood.
the butchers look to one another now. their eyes wide, stark white in the gore covering them in the silence. and then their arms lift, their bodies twist, they seem to be posed somehow, twisted, prepared to fight.
this entire floor is covered in gore, in blood, in viscera.
they move out to strike with their knives, suddenly, their bodies not their own, their limbs flailing with a dangerous, careless manner as they aim to cleave at you both. just like the meat that you are. ]
everything happens all at once. the second the bull doesn't hit ground temenos is on edge - and rightfully so, it seems, because things are wrong - and don't you just hate it when your gut instinct was right?
the way the butchers flail and move is jerky and awful, too reminiscent of a monster wielding a massive sword once upon a time. temenos immediately brings the staff of judgement up, that white knuckle grip never fading (remembers the limits, there are limits you have to be smart about this) and does the exact same fucking thing he did the first time this happened. he finds that buzzy spark, that connection with aelfric, faded as it might be, and casts - ]
Protect us, sacred shield! [ one of these for him and keith, immediately. it's not much - it can only dispel some of the strength of one hit. zero BP used, ya feel me. but he can't risk using a strong spell this early, not when they have no idea what's coming.
the floor is slippery and bloodied and awful, and he lifts his staff diagonally from behind the shield, stumbling a few steps backwards from the onslaught, away from the pit and back towards the opposite wall. just how big is this room, anyway? ]
[ he watches as the man pushes the bull over the edge, eyes wide as it screams all the way down, but when there is no impact... no sound... just silence. he's already reaching around to his back, for his knife.
good thing he does, because when the scene suddenly changes, all bets of getting in and out, without trouble has gone out the window. blood and gore everywhere. the missing girl...
keith is pissed.
the men move, unnaturally, flailing. he brings his blade up to guard, the shield temenos casting flashing in front of him. ]
Temenos!!
[ sees him slip and stumble. kosmo moves, blipping from his spot by keith and appearing next to temenos, ready to blip him away from this attack.
meanwhile keith goes to dodge, swinging his knife in a counterattack. other hand reaching for the plasma blade. ]
[ this room is not too big, enough room to maneuver around the slabs and some room at the back. there's enough to cast an aoe if he's thinking about it. there's the annex where the cattle are kept and they are. well. they are not rioting. because there are none. there are no cattle back there at all actually. it's empty. there are just chains. just like the rattling chains around the butcher's throats.
the sheild illuminates the dim light of the room that is clearly meant for slaughter, more than the faintly glimmering torches around the room can, affording them a better look at their battle grounds. for a moment the butchers seem Shooketh, but are no less deterred, their eyes wide, pained, but their bodies primed. Surging.
temenos can scoot his way to safety away from the hole over the slippery viscera. he manages to avoid the onslaught of one attack, kosmo darting alongside him like a faithful hound, snapping at the legs of one of the knife-wielding butchers. the knife cuts through the air just past his face, maybe taking a couple hairs before they blip to a couple of feet away to dodge the onslaught. just for fun. these hairs fall to the ground where temenos once was, pinking with the blood and viscera. you can choose whether tem eats shit when he gets blipped back with kosmo, or if he lands on his feet - kosmo glitches, and kind of slides on the ground himself, snarling.
even so, the butcher will try and strike him again, he's a glowing target, just like keith, and he's the source of the light. he must snuff it out. the butcher will run towards him with an ungainly, uncanny high-kneed puppeteered stumble.
keith, well. keith goes in for a swing with his knife, and the other butcher swings back. he gouges his knife right into keith's face almost instantly, carving into his cheek (unscarred) and leaving a more horizontal wound there, letting him barely get away. keith's own attack catches the butcher barely in the shoulder and they surge forward for another attack, arms windmilling wildly, the butcher shrieking and screaming. ]
but that's fine. the butcher wants light? you want to see some light, butcher man? temenos will absolutely show him the light. he has to manage his skills carefully but there's one that's pretty cheap: he throws his staff up in front of himself even from the ground and casts, again - ] Holy light, illuminate the darkness!
[ holy light. it's bright, if you thought the shield was bad. this is holy smiting directly from the skies above, a spell attack aiming to smite his assailant before he can get any closer. ]
[ it's the voices in his head, mixed with the smell of the place, and the overwhelming weight barring down on him, that's why he misses. yeah. that's why. it has to be. this place is just messing with him in every way. hateful.
a deep cut on his left cheek, dangerously close to his eye, blood spilling out and even getting into it. now he's got one eye closed, hindered even further. but this does not stop him. never back down NEVER WHAT!!!
safe to say the shield is gone, just him and this deranged butcher now. keith pulls the plasma blade out, now dull wielding and brings the two blades together to try and catch the next blow. he aims to catch it and then push the man back, perhaps towards the hole. because they certainly are still near it. hm.
if he's successful in pushing this guy back, he's going in for another hit, right at the guy's gut. hopefully he doesn't slip in all this blood and meat. ]
[ the butcher gets mcfucking struck by the power of god and anime and you hear his pitiful wailing as the holy light burns his skin, but more strongly, you hear the wailing of... something. something wholly unholy shuddering up from the pit. temenos as you fall and eat shit, something is kicked by the slide of your dress shoe, and goes rolling to the side. the butcher looms overhead, still howling. with one wild, flailing arm, he drives his knife downwards towards temenos' face aiming for... you know.
kosmo tries to grab the butcher by the leg while he's blinded, but ends up getting just kicked straight in his ribs and goes slamming into the wall. the entire cavernous slaughter room shudders with the impact. he slides down it and twitches, glitches as maybe he tries to poof back but is denied it.
it is truly a one-two punch, the shield saving keith from a really shitty fate of having half his face cleaved in twain, leaving him with a sweet battle wound instead. but that doesn't mean the man is done yet. he sweeps out with his knife again multiple times and wails as he catches keith's chest and then his right arm, slashing deep (not deep enough to sever a limb off completely, but both are nasty wounds, painful, gushing.)
the gut punch, though, well. it makes landfall on the solid wall of muscle that is the butcher's chest... and butcher is indeed going straight into the pit with a wailing noise as well. it disappears, but never stops, there is no splatter or breaking noise of a body making a landing. ]
[ oh he kicked something. that seems like it was probably important, whatever it was. he's not in a good position, down on the ground and lacking his animal companion tank, but he's thinking roughly the same as keith. get the butcher down, shove him down into the pit, if he can push him backwards. get up, make him stumble backwards, shove him in, logical sense.
that unholy, awful sound rattles his very bones. the arm flails and he knows, he knows he's not going to be able to dodge it entirely, and so, instead, he pushes himself up and off the ground, jerking his head to the side. it's -
- it's not a miss. the knife slices into his cheek, carving in, and the pain is white hot and awful, but it's enough for him to narrowly avoid having his eye gouged out as the knife dives downward into his shoulder, instaed. and, listen. he's not fast, but with the slippery floor and momentum on his side, he manages to slide out and cast, again, this time aiming at the holy light spell at the butcher's chest. ]
I said, illuminate the darkness! [ small sp, big hit. it's aelfric's classic holy light - bright, brilliant, bursting, and accompanied by a swing backwards from the staff like it's a baseball bat, so if he staggers backwards from the pain, maybe he can whack some mana out of his stupid body and send him back towards the Pit of Despair. ]
[ cool. reopen his super healed shoulder scar, while also extending it to his chest. except this one is much deeper, cutting through his suit and dangerously close to bone. he's lucky he doesn't loose the whole ass arm. why's it gotta be the right one...
he screams out in pain, the blood gushing and pain searing. but it does nothing to stop him, and he surges forward, yelling. shoving the butcher back and taking aim. landing right in his chest, plasma blade sinking in. and with a this is sparta-esque kicks the guy straight into the pit.
bye bitch.
then he's turning towards temenos, seeing how he goes to baseball smack the other dude towards the pit. he'll do what he can to assist in making sure that happens, even if it just grabbing the dude and throwing him in, once he stumbles back. ]
[ life from life? sure. temenos swing-battah-battahs and just smacks this guy in the chest as he's on a bloody slip n' slide. the butcher doesn't expect this expert wielding of what he thought was just a pathetic little walking stick for a frail white-haired twink. he was sorely mistaken. temenos can get the satisfaction of hitting this man right in his solar plexus, a crack audible in the din of the fight.
between the stun from the light, like a bug hitting a naked bulb, the butcher's footing slips in his soft leather shoes, pushes him backwards so his side hits one of the massive butcher's blocks, the stone slabs. he grabs onto it with a slick hand and lets out an inhuman roar as the room shudders again.
keith grabs him by the back of his leather apron, hurtling him towards the edge of the hole and listening to him scream once more. the scream dies, just like the other, unnaturally, with no splatter. no catch.
the room is silent save for a distant, wet rumbling noise. you have a moment to breathe. what do you do? ]
Edited (what the fuck i hate having double enters after my comments) 2024-04-09 20:48 (UTC)
better. much better. keith's grab is exactly what he needs - temenos looks up just in time to watch the butcher hurtle straight towards the edge. the sound of his screaming is jagged and miserable like nails on a chalkboard, but it doesn't matter. good riddance, frankly. he pushes himself up on his bloodied staff, looks at keith. blood is streaming down his face and rapidly pooling at his shoulder but he is... alive and not missing any limbs so that's a start. ]
... Bravo. [ murmured, half on an exhale as the (almost) silence washes over the room. his gaze goes to kosmo the wonderdog, too - temenos reaches up and grabs his heal gun, and before keith can say anything or question anything or tell him not to, jabs him in the side with it and pumps a charge into him. minor heal. is only baby. ]
...We need to get back to the others, and quickly. [ his magic thrums under the surface, gnawing and hungry somewhere in his stomach, but it's better than nothing, for now. a group heal will be better if - well. temenos is not optimistic that shoma and charles are just having tea somewhere. ]
[ the adrenaline is still kicking, but not nearly as loud, now that silence fills the room and it's just the three of them. keith grabs at his shoulder, looking towards temenos. ]
So much for not getting into trouble. [ not them having matching face and shoulder injuries. keith's own face and shoulder gushing with blood. but i guess since tem is jamming a heal gun into his side, the blood isn't gushing out anymore.
also HIS BABY DOG. runs over to kosmo, picking him up. after getting hit he's shrunk back down to a manageable carrying size. ] I've got you buddy. Good job back there.
I imagine they're having just as much fun as we are. [ if not worse. is the noise coming from the direction of the stairs or ig what would be the direction of the stairs? he wants to check on that slab first, before they leave, the one with the jacket and cap. he should probably also find his helmet, wherever that ended up. ]
[ oh yeah charles and shoma are definitely having fun! yippee!!
the hunger nibbles at the outskirts of temenos' mind. even the smallest morsel would be so tasty right now, just what you'd need to pick yourself up. but there's nothing here, nothing good, only rot and blood. surrounding you both, you can see the slaughterhouse for what it is.
kosmo does indeed shrink to be carried, fussing though and licking at keith's face despite the gore, whimpering. put him down, he's okay... put him down... he will go with you into the darkest reaches of the earth, you know he will. in any case, get your minor heal keith, and it can help whatever you like in a minor capacity.
the jacket and cap are indeed just. blood-soaked. there's also a... decapitated head on the ground. the head of the girl in the photograph. she stares with blank, dead eyes gazing up from the floor. surprise.
down the hall: a commotion. a very loud commotion, rumbling wet and thick. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
anyway once they speak, he nods, politely straightening back up. the respirator feeling is unpleasant, but he leans on his staff a little and tries to ignore it for the moment, giving off his usual - relaxed, confident, calm. ]
Rare, but hopefully no less welcome. I promise we won't take up much of your time.
[ are they wearing the chains, too? ] There are some matters we'd like your opinion on.
no subject
what kind of tools are they holding? also what condition do these two look to be in...]
Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated. [ he's not as good at talking as tem, but he's gonna do his best. ]
What are your two's duty, here?
no subject
the two look to be in... fairly okay condition. their aprons have dark stains on them. one of them is going to be just picking out one of the bulls, because he seems way more into his work than actually talking. the other, however, doesn't seem to mind talking.
"we're butchers," the first one says. "we take care of the meat."
well that sounds simple enough.
keith and temenos, roll me another d20 please. ]
no subject
well at least they're not like, dying. or maybe they are. who knows! decent condition is better than whatever shoma and charles have going on at the moment, not that he knows that. he's eyeing those knives but at least he's unintimidated. ]
I see.
[ okay. ] You both seem as though you're experts in the craft. How long have you served in this position in this place?
no subject
keith is just going to continue to kinda observe what the other guy is doing, while keeping an ear on what tem is talking to the first dude about. ]
What’s your selection process for the cattle?
[ he sure is going to attempt to talk to thus dude, even though he seems completely uninterested. it’s fine. maybe he likes dogs?? kosmo help us. help us kosmo. ]
no subject
to their questions: ]
We've served here in the plant for years. My sentence is life. His... [ jerking a thumb to the one who is now pulling out a dusty-looking black bull from the back of the pen, one that is trying to tug back from the leash ] Long enough that it may as well be.
[ keith can watch him. while his coworker chews the cud with you two, he will work. because this is a temple. a temple of labor. as he brings the somewhat skittish bull over towards the edge of the pit actually and slides a superficial cut along its shoulders, through its hide, releasing a warm flow of blood. the bull lets out a long, angry groan, pulls against the lead, but there's no purchase from where it's tied. it stomps, paws at the ground. fearful. but it doesn't kick and it doesn't bite, doesn't even try to gore the one dragging it here.
i won't be super gross about it - it's not a fatal wound. he dips his fingers in that blood, and he proceeds to draw what look to be... symbols. designs. in the black fur, it's hard to see it, but it discolors slightly, so you can make it out. symbols you don't know, can't place, but seem to follow some kind of anatomical purpose. ]
We select each according to the mother earth. They are culled and curated... and then sent our way.
no subject
a life sentence, and one that may as well be. the butchery happening doesn't make him flinch - the smell, the callousness of it, it's fine. he's entirely focused for now on the man with the glistening knife, battle senses alert. ]
Have you worked under the same plant head since you arrived? [ not the foreman, but the plant owner. ] And have you always worked with cattle?
no subject
then he's just staring, watching this man do his duty. his job. the task given to him, that he is forced to carry out, alongside his sentence. keith's face scrunches. it's not like the act of slaughtering is new to him, just, ya know.... a bit different.
he'll never get used to it. not really. but he shoves those feelings aside for later. and instead watches as the man makes symbols of blood in the bull's fur, memorizing them as his eyes follow. ]
Mother earth? [ (teddy voice) what do you mean by that?
also, uh, how is kosmo doing during all this... considering his previous encounter with a bull. seeing this sure is something. i have given partial custody to kosmo to you. ]
no subject
i cannot trust... i cannot... ]
Cattle are what we handle. Only cattle. And... yes. There has been no other that has owned us but the Boös.
[ owned. like animals. a barn for animals. a slaughterhouse for animals.
and uh kosmo? is kind of frozen in place. kosmo's tail is down and low and his ears are back, pinned. he's not barking, he's not moving, but his ears are swiveling again, and his head cants towards the hole in the ground. the big, deep hole in the ground.
the second butcher looks over at them both, at the remark to "mother earth", and smiles. unsettlingly. his eyes are glazed over, his knife bloody as he guides the bull towards the edge of the hole. it doesn't balk, it doesn't scream, it is docile and low-headed.
keith can feel a heaviness on his shoulders, heavy, so very heavy, weighty, like the burdens of a old promise press down upon him. the burdens of the universe, the burdens of the heart.
saved me... saved me.... save
dme............ ]The mother earth is critical in all matters of meat.
no subject
see, maybe two or three days ago, this wouldn't have been as effective as it is. it would have been upsetting, sure. but a discussion with viktor recently throws those words into complete and utter clarity, makes them slice like the knife through the meat. big, white, unblinking eyes, bones and agony. a flippant journal entry. petrichor hunted down the man with the darkblood bow. a desperate statement from the doorway. a figure, gone.
i can no longer trust - it...it cannot be allowed to exist!
it's a good thing that the effects from the ship don't resonate here because the force it takes to suppress any reaction is violent. temenos manages to do so. thirty years of composure means his face doesn't even twitch, but the weight of that phrase on his shoulders makes his throat dry. it's not real, he reminds himself. it's just like the last time.
he white knuckles his staff but doesn't otherwise react. ]
And his son?
no subject
How do you...[ that smile is so. deranged. it puts him further on edge, eyes shifting from him, to kosmo, to the bull, and then to the hole. ] So this mother earth determines what cattle you slaughter, rather than the one in charge?
[ he's trying to stay focused, but man. this voice in his head. these words. they're familiar. too familiar. where are they coming from?? he watches the man and the bull, glancing at the hole. ]
What's down there?
1/2
has he forgotten?
then the second speaks: ]
We ask the mother and she tells us which are suitable meat... the supervisor provides the cattle... we sort... and we choose... and we deign what is good for the mother. For the earth.
[ now as for the origin of the voices? well. hard to say where they're coming from. they don't... seem to be coming from the hole, rather, they seem to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. untraceable, untrackable.
the man with the bull takes his knife and traces one long line along its hide. it twitches, shakes its head again.
and then he shoves it. right into the fucking hole, just really puts his entire weight to get this massive beast off balance with his own bulk, and he sends it tumbling down, down, down, down...
down...
down...
the beast hollers, in the way that cattle do, an ugly, trembling sound, warbling and fading.
there is no sound of reaching the bottom.
there is only... a sudden silence. ]
2/2
but there's a layer of silence here that shakes your reality, that suddenly warps your perspective. suddenly you realize...
that not all is as it seemed.
the two men? they're covered in blood, more blood than before, viscera and meat on their boots, on their skin, slicking them. their skin is coated red from it. and those cattle in the back? well. they're still cattle, rabbling and rousing... but there is also something on the slab, a green jacket. a knit cap. the same that the girl in the missing persons reports was wearing. covered in blood, blood, blood.
the butchers look to one another now. their eyes wide, stark white in the gore covering them in the silence. and then their arms lift, their bodies twist, they seem to be posed somehow, twisted, prepared to fight.
this entire floor is covered in gore, in blood, in viscera.
they move out to strike with their knives, suddenly, their bodies not their own, their limbs flailing with a dangerous, careless manner as they aim to cleave at you both. just like the meat that you are. ]
no subject
everything happens all at once. the second the bull doesn't hit ground temenos is on edge - and rightfully so, it seems, because things are wrong - and don't you just hate it when your gut instinct was right?
the way the butchers flail and move is jerky and awful, too reminiscent of a monster wielding a massive sword once upon a time. temenos immediately brings the staff of judgement up, that white knuckle grip never fading (remembers the limits, there are limits you have to be smart about this) and does the exact same fucking thing he did the first time this happened. he finds that buzzy spark, that connection with aelfric, faded as it might be, and casts - ]
Protect us, sacred shield! [ one of these for him and keith, immediately. it's not much - it can only dispel some of the strength of one hit. zero BP used, ya feel me. but he can't risk using a strong spell this early, not when they have no idea what's coming.
the floor is slippery and bloodied and awful, and he lifts his staff diagonally from behind the shield, stumbling a few steps backwards from the onslaught, away from the pit and back towards the opposite wall. just how big is this room, anyway? ]
no subject
good thing he does, because when the scene suddenly changes, all bets of getting in and out, without trouble has gone out the window. blood and gore everywhere. the missing girl...
keith is pissed.
the men move, unnaturally, flailing. he brings his blade up to guard, the shield temenos casting flashing in front of him. ]
Temenos!!
[ sees him slip and stumble. kosmo moves, blipping from his spot by keith and appearing next to temenos, ready to blip him away from this attack.
meanwhile keith goes to dodge, swinging his knife in a counterattack. other hand reaching for the plasma blade. ]
no subject
the sheild illuminates the dim light of the room that is clearly meant for slaughter, more than the faintly glimmering torches around the room can, affording them a better look at their battle grounds. for a moment the butchers seem Shooketh, but are no less deterred, their eyes wide, pained, but their bodies primed. Surging.
temenos can scoot his way to safety away from the hole over the slippery viscera. he manages to avoid the onslaught of one attack, kosmo darting alongside him like a faithful hound, snapping at the legs of one of the knife-wielding butchers. the knife cuts through the air just past his face, maybe taking a couple hairs before they blip to a couple of feet away to dodge the onslaught. just for fun. these hairs fall to the ground where temenos once was, pinking with the blood and viscera. you can choose whether tem eats shit when he gets blipped back with kosmo, or if he lands on his feet - kosmo glitches, and kind of slides on the ground himself, snarling.
even so, the butcher will try and strike him again, he's a glowing target, just like keith, and he's the source of the light. he must snuff it out. the butcher will run towards him with an ungainly, uncanny high-kneed puppeteered stumble.
keith, well. keith goes in for a swing with his knife, and the other butcher swings back. he gouges his knife right into keith's face almost instantly, carving into his cheek (unscarred) and leaving a more horizontal wound there, letting him barely get away. keith's own attack catches the butcher barely in the shoulder and they surge forward for another attack, arms windmilling wildly, the butcher shrieking and screaming. ]
no subject
the shield shatters when the knife strikes it, and honestly, throné would be so proud of this dodge - maybe that connection to his magic means aelfric's around after all - because he manages to avoid the actual attack. he is, however, absolutely not expecting to be blink dogged. temenos didn't know kosmo had the ability to do that, so he absolutely eats shit when he reappears. his dress shoes skid against the blood and viscera on the floor, and he lets out a strangled noise as he drops, coating his suit in blood.
but that's fine. the butcher wants light? you want to see some light, butcher man? temenos will absolutely show him the light. he has to manage his skills carefully but there's one that's pretty cheap: he throws his staff up in front of himself even from the ground and casts, again - ] Holy light, illuminate the darkness!
[ holy light. it's bright, if you thought the shield was bad. this is holy smiting directly from the skies above, a spell attack aiming to smite his assailant before he can get any closer. ]
no subject
a deep cut on his left cheek, dangerously close to his eye, blood spilling out and even getting into it. now he's got one eye closed, hindered even further. but this does not stop him. never back down NEVER WHAT!!!
safe to say the shield is gone, just him and this deranged butcher now. keith pulls the plasma blade out, now dull wielding and brings the two blades together to try and catch the next blow. he aims to catch it and then push the man back, perhaps towards the hole. because they certainly are still near it. hm.
if he's successful in pushing this guy back, he's going in for another hit, right at the guy's gut. hopefully he doesn't slip in all this blood and meat. ]
no subject
kosmo tries to grab the butcher by the leg while he's blinded, but ends up getting just kicked straight in his ribs and goes slamming into the wall. the entire cavernous slaughter room shudders with the impact. he slides down it and twitches, glitches as maybe he tries to poof back but is denied it.
it is truly a one-two punch, the shield saving keith from a really shitty fate of having half his face cleaved in twain, leaving him with a sweet battle wound instead. but that doesn't mean the man is done yet. he sweeps out with his knife again multiple times and wails as he catches keith's chest and then his right arm, slashing deep (not deep enough to sever a limb off completely, but both are nasty wounds, painful, gushing.)
the gut punch, though, well. it makes landfall on the solid wall of muscle that is the butcher's chest... and butcher is indeed going straight into the pit with a wailing noise as well. it disappears, but never stops, there is no splatter or breaking noise of a body making a landing. ]
no subject
that unholy, awful sound rattles his very bones. the arm flails and he knows, he knows he's not going to be able to dodge it entirely, and so, instead, he pushes himself up and off the ground, jerking his head to the side. it's -
- it's not a miss. the knife slices into his cheek, carving in, and the pain is white hot and awful, but it's enough for him to narrowly avoid having his eye gouged out as the knife dives downward into his shoulder, instaed. and, listen. he's not fast, but with the slippery floor and momentum on his side, he manages to slide out and cast, again, this time aiming at the holy light spell at the butcher's chest. ]
I said, illuminate the darkness! [ small sp, big hit. it's aelfric's classic holy light - bright, brilliant, bursting, and accompanied by a swing backwards from the staff like it's a baseball bat, so if he staggers backwards from the pain, maybe he can whack some mana out of his stupid body and send him back towards the Pit of Despair. ]
no subject
he screams out in pain, the blood gushing and pain searing. but it does nothing to stop him, and he surges forward, yelling. shoving the butcher back and taking aim. landing right in his chest, plasma blade sinking in. and with a this is sparta-esque kicks the guy straight into the pit.
bye bitch.
then he's turning towards temenos, seeing how he goes to baseball smack the other dude towards the pit. he'll do what he can to assist in making sure that happens, even if it just grabbing the dude and throwing him in, once he stumbles back. ]
no subject
between the stun from the light, like a bug hitting a naked bulb, the butcher's footing slips in his soft leather shoes, pushes him backwards so his side hits one of the massive butcher's blocks, the stone slabs. he grabs onto it with a slick hand and lets out an inhuman roar as the room shudders again.
keith grabs him by the back of his leather apron, hurtling him towards the edge of the hole and listening to him scream once more. the scream dies, just like the other, unnaturally, with no splatter. no catch.
the room is silent save for a distant, wet rumbling noise. you have a moment to breathe. what do you do? ]
no subject
better. much better. keith's grab is exactly what he needs - temenos looks up just in time to watch the butcher hurtle straight towards the edge. the sound of his screaming is jagged and miserable like nails on a chalkboard, but it doesn't matter. good riddance, frankly. he pushes himself up on his bloodied staff, looks at keith. blood is streaming down his face and rapidly pooling at his shoulder but he is... alive and not missing any limbs so that's a start. ]
... Bravo. [ murmured, half on an exhale as the (almost) silence washes over the room. his gaze goes to kosmo the wonderdog, too - temenos reaches up and grabs his heal gun, and before keith can say anything or question anything or tell him not to, jabs him in the side with it and pumps a charge into him. minor heal. is only baby. ]
...We need to get back to the others, and quickly. [ his magic thrums under the surface, gnawing and hungry somewhere in his stomach, but it's better than nothing, for now. a group heal will be better if - well. temenos is not optimistic that shoma and charles are just having tea somewhere. ]
no subject
So much for not getting into trouble. [ not them having matching face and shoulder injuries. keith's own face and shoulder gushing with blood. but i guess since tem is jamming a heal gun into his side, the blood isn't gushing out anymore.
also HIS BABY DOG. runs over to kosmo, picking him up. after getting hit he's shrunk back down to a manageable carrying size. ] I've got you buddy. Good job back there.
I imagine they're having just as much fun as we are. [ if not worse. is the noise coming from the direction of the stairs or ig what would be the direction of the stairs? he wants to check on that slab first, before they leave, the one with the jacket and cap. he should probably also find his helmet, wherever that ended up. ]
Looks like we were too late.
no subject
the hunger nibbles at the outskirts of temenos' mind. even the smallest morsel would be so tasty right now, just what you'd need to pick yourself up. but there's nothing here, nothing good, only rot and blood. surrounding you both, you can see the slaughterhouse for what it is.
kosmo does indeed shrink to be carried, fussing though and licking at keith's face despite the gore, whimpering. put him down, he's okay... put him down... he will go with you into the darkest reaches of the earth, you know he will. in any case, get your minor heal keith, and it can help whatever you like in a minor capacity.
the jacket and cap are indeed just. blood-soaked. there's also a... decapitated head on the ground. the head of the girl in the photograph. she stares with blank, dead eyes gazing up from the floor. surprise.
down the hall: a commotion. a very loud commotion, rumbling wet and thick. ]
IS CLEAVING A SELF-SAME BODY IN TWAIN NOT A KINDNESS TO US!?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)