crosslaced (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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lifeaftr2017-09-04 10:04 am
crosslaced) wrote in lifeaftr2017-09-04 10:04 am
> it called for help! [ota]
Who: Laurent, about eight hungry centipuppies, and you!
What: Laurent goes predator-hunting on the beach, and gets more predators than he bargained for.
When: September 5th
Where: Beaches of E4 / E5: ie. right outside the ruins
Warnings: Some strong language? Animal slaughter?
a | the beach;
[From the modest shade of the Ruins one has a great view of the beach. The brilliant sea, the pristine sand, the furry shapes of the centipuppy pack in the distance. Looks like they're on the hunt today, chasing a larger creature towards the ruins. A person on horseback.
Looks like someone's fucked up. That someone is Laurent.
He set out to fight a different creature- a questionable decision in itself, but there are no spoils without war- but then there were the dogs, swarming over the beach like a bone-white mirage, and at the back of his mind he wonders if Taako will trade for fur. But right now nothing is more pressing than the restrained race over the sand, pushing his horse as much as he dares on the slippery terrain. If Maribelle stumbles, they're screwed.
(So she won't. He won't let that happen again.)
Her restraint means they're not fast enough. Laurent realises by now- with a hiss of frustration- that the dogs are pursuit predators, and may not tire for hours yet. He does not have hours. He's enough of a hunter himself to know what it means when one can afford to let you run, run, bleeding out slowly.
Alright, then.
He's close enough to the ruins for there to be others nearby- but too bad, he has no habit of seeking help. Laurent wheels his horse around- and as the point hound leaps to snap at Maribelle’s flanks, spears its throat.
thmp-
The glittering weapon seems to come from thin air. Before blood even spills it rips itself out of of the centipuppy and flies at another, shattering against the creature’s snout- all on its own, somehow, in the bizarre way that might baffle anyone with no knowledge of telekinesis. The pack reels; snarling, confused.
He's not going to roll over for the dogs. But he could really use help. ]
b| the ruins;
[Dingalingaling, a rattling up the slopes to the Ruins. What's that smell in the air? No, it's not the ice cream man. It's Laurent's horse, scratched up somewhat but otherwise fine, towing the carcass of a long long dog.
Oh, and her human. Who all but slides off the saddle, blinking stars from his vision, and spends the next five minutes failing to untie the rope that connects the dead centipuppy to his horse. The gem on his wrist is no longer its iridescent blue but a cloudy, gross slate color.
If you're part of the Ignis-Prompto boyband, he might call you over for help. Otherwise, you'll have to approach him yourself if you want to ask if he's found lots of alcohol or something. ]
What: Laurent goes predator-hunting on the beach, and gets more predators than he bargained for.
When: September 5th
Where: Beaches of E4 / E5: ie. right outside the ruins
Warnings: Some strong language? Animal slaughter?
a | the beach;
[From the modest shade of the Ruins one has a great view of the beach. The brilliant sea, the pristine sand, the furry shapes of the centipuppy pack in the distance. Looks like they're on the hunt today, chasing a larger creature towards the ruins. A person on horseback.
Looks like someone's fucked up. That someone is Laurent.
He set out to fight a different creature- a questionable decision in itself, but there are no spoils without war- but then there were the dogs, swarming over the beach like a bone-white mirage, and at the back of his mind he wonders if Taako will trade for fur. But right now nothing is more pressing than the restrained race over the sand, pushing his horse as much as he dares on the slippery terrain. If Maribelle stumbles, they're screwed.
(So she won't. He won't let that happen again.)
Her restraint means they're not fast enough. Laurent realises by now- with a hiss of frustration- that the dogs are pursuit predators, and may not tire for hours yet. He does not have hours. He's enough of a hunter himself to know what it means when one can afford to let you run, run, bleeding out slowly.
Alright, then.
He's close enough to the ruins for there to be others nearby- but too bad, he has no habit of seeking help. Laurent wheels his horse around- and as the point hound leaps to snap at Maribelle’s flanks, spears its throat.
thmp-
The glittering weapon seems to come from thin air. Before blood even spills it rips itself out of of the centipuppy and flies at another, shattering against the creature’s snout- all on its own, somehow, in the bizarre way that might baffle anyone with no knowledge of telekinesis. The pack reels; snarling, confused.
He's not going to roll over for the dogs. But he could really use help. ]
b| the ruins;
[Dingalingaling, a rattling up the slopes to the Ruins. What's that smell in the air? No, it's not the ice cream man. It's Laurent's horse, scratched up somewhat but otherwise fine, towing the carcass of a long long dog.
Oh, and her human. Who all but slides off the saddle, blinking stars from his vision, and spends the next five minutes failing to untie the rope that connects the dead centipuppy to his horse. The gem on his wrist is no longer its iridescent blue but a cloudy, gross slate color.
If you're part of the Ignis-Prompto boyband, he might call you over for help. Otherwise, you'll have to approach him yourself if you want to ask if he's found lots of alcohol or something. ]