http://fakethulhu.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] fakethulhu.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] capeandcowllogs2011-10-29 06:25 pm

DRAIN YOU OF YOUR SANITY

WHO: The Emissary and co. versus everybody
WHERE: Off the coast of Battery Park and throughout the City
WHEN: Just before midnight October 31st (technically November 1st)
WARNINGS: Violence and frightening imagery
SUMMARY: Drawn by Illidan’s magic, a demon from beyond reality has come forth to help the Betrayer doom the world. The battle that saves or destroys everything has begun. Happy Halloween, Cityverse!
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, whatever works after.

It came.

The Moon of midnight on All Hallow’s Eve shone wetly on the waters of the City’s Harbour. From beneath the surface a rumbling could be heard, as though emanating far, far below, within abyssal depths and ancient fathoms that could not possibly be there. First there was a ripple, then a wave, then the creature began to arise from the waters. It slid upwards and upwards, rising smoothly and continuously out of the ocean like a living edifice, a vast Thing ancient and immovable, a walking island sunken no longer. The head then the shoulders then the wings then the misshapen body came forth, yet still more of Its bulk remained beneath the waters, with slow thighs beginning to move It towards the City. All around it the sky and the ocean seemed to darken with an almost positive quality, as though jet-black ink was spilling into the universe itself. The Emissary had come.

Water flowed off Its body in torrents, mixing with drool and ichor. An unending series of sickly slopping and slobbering noises came from the twitching forest of tentacles around Its mouth, the product of a ravening hunger. The ocean heaved immensely around the Titan form, waves thrashing from the power of Its body. How to describe such a thing? How to even conceive of such horror, outside of madness or nightmare? That immense octopus head crowning the terrible body, those dragon-bat wings sprouting from Its back, those rubbery, sea-green scales, the mingled and loathsome aspects of the reptile, the mollusc- and the human! For it was on two feet that It moved, and with two arms did the Emissary reach out toward the morsels It slavered for.

An aura of panic and despair announced It, greater than any herald’s trumpet. Merely to look upon that incomprehensible shape and its alien geometry was to gamble with one’s sanity. Its very presence emanated a sense of immeasurable insignificance and absence of meaning, as though all the Earth was plankton in the presence of a whale. It moved with a shambling, unwholesome motion that had nothing to do with clumsiness, gathering speed. A mountain walked or stumbled! Toward the City, toward the Well. Toward the end of the world.

[ooc: goddamndoomchat is open on AIM if anyone's interested! There are some people fighting the Emissary who have not been slotted into threads yet; we will work those out as we go along! The raid against Illidan in Central Park will be posted by Jill later. Have fun everybody!]
soulbondee: (FEELING THE FLOW???)

OPEN

[personal profile] soulbondee 2011-10-30 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
Yuma was not a hero. He was not an old hat at fighting monsters, or of dangerous situations, and no one could say he kept a cool head under pressure unless that someone were lying. He had no weapons, no combat training. As far as he knew, he had no superhuman abilities -- and for that matter, had no reason to believe he was meant to have them in the first place. Hell, he didn't even have a good sense of direction.

What Yuma possessed was a burning soul that never gave up, no matter how terrible the circumstances. A sense of hope and a persistence that rarely wavered, and his indomitable bring it to 'em spirit. That, and a high jump and a sprint that would make Olympian athletes look twice. With these and his loud voice, he moved from block to block, helping evacuation measures where he could.

This meant, well. Throwing water bottles and assorted street debris at looming monstrosities -- or, on a couple occasions, run onto and leap off of a parked car with an "I'm bringin' to ya!!", kicking a tentacle-faced beast in the back of the head -- and run screaming into the night as live bait, a litany of "crap crap crap crap crap--!!" trailing behind him like footsteps.

(He was really, really glad Kotori wasn't here.)

[identity profile] bibliogasm.livejournal.com 2011-10-30 10:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Getting right into the thick of the fight had been kind of fun, at first. Sure, the monsters were gross and horrible, and Lavi didn't even need to be told that the Thing that brought them all was much, much worse than it appeared (and that he should not look at it for more than a glance). Yet somehow it didn't seem to match the horror that was his own universe, so for a while, he enjoyed letting loose with flame and lightning and the occasional gigantic hammer smash.

But he had come to the conclusion that imPorts like himself had been brought to this world for some reason, and even if he didn't feel heroic, he still had the role to play. There were many more people who were terrified and defenseless, and this wasn't the time to play. He moved without thinking, keeping an eye out for those still evacuating or caught up in the attack, destroying their monstrous pursuers or at least making a wall of flame to buy time for an escape.

And screaming, insane (or very brave?) teenagers were no exception. Lavi very nearly ran into Yuma as the boy ran past screaming, had about a second to see what followed him, and retaliated with a cry of "Hiban!", meeting the small horde with a flaming hammer.
soulbondee: (FEELING THE FLOW???)

[personal profile] soulbondee 2011-11-01 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
Cool guys don't turn to look at explosions; Yuma was not, and probably never would be, a 'cool' guy. Flames from the hammer were heat enough to race up his back and startle him more than sprinting past. In a maneuver that was part stumble, part hand-stand, part pirouette, Yuma fumbled his way into both slowing down and turning around. The palm of his hand scuffed raw on the asphalt, but paying attention to that meant focusing on something other than a guy pulverizing giant monsters with a flaming hammer. "Woah!"