Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

[faileas]

Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

I. Adventuring We Will Go (Tomorrow) The word gets around pretty quick. Anybody who plans to journey with the group of Wilders venturing out to set up a new outpost is invited to attend a traditional gathering they have before an expedition: the packing party. On the evening of the 15th, the Wilders' HQ is bustling with activity. The whole group is present making the final preparations, sorting gear, and checking the carts for maintenance. The atmosphere is easy and upbeat, very casual, with Wilders laughing and telling jokes and stories as they work. One has to have a little fun before it's time to be serious, after all! A lot needs done, and more hands are always welcome. Camping gear and provisions need to be checked, inventoried, and dispersed into enchanted rucksacks that can hold twice as much as you might think they could - there will be enough rucksacks for each explorer in the party. Everyone is expected to carry their own. Shrunken-down construction materials for the new outpost need to be loaded into the three self-propelled carts the party will travel with (if only they were self-steering as well!). The carts themselves haven't been necessary for an expedition in a while; they could probably use some fixing up, greasing the axles and making sure the enchantments are fully charged with magic. And, too, this is a chance for the group to mingle and get to know each other. You have to be able to trust your fellows out there in the Wilde, after all. So there's a table with food bought off a few street carts: fried hand pies in meat (no one's sure what kind of meat, but hey!), veggie, and fruit varities; a pot of simmering jellied eel to be scooped into cups and eaten with spoons; fried squabs on sticks dripping grease. Beer is plentiful, as are bottles of a non-alcoholic ginger beer. Everyone is encouraged to eat, pack, and get to know each other. Especially because, the lead Wilders on this expedition will say, it's recommended that everyone going out there have a Bonded - whether it be their own normal Bonds if they're also going, or temporary Bonds with their fellow party members. The table also bears a few dozen of the temporary Bonding potions, and it's highly encouraged, though not required, that more experienced explorers temporarily Bond with those who are much newer to Aefenglom. It's nature's buddy system, you know. Whatever you're going to do, do it before the morning - the group leaves at first dawn, and will not wait for anyone too hungover to be on time. While having a Bond isn't required for the trip, the Wilders will strongly encourage it for anyone who isn't Bonded or whose Bond partners aren't going. The three-Bond safety limit does still apply to temporary Bonds, though! If you'd like to tag around for potential temp Bonds, head over to this thread right here!

II. The Silent Forest It becomes clear that, while the journey starts off easy, it won't remain that way. The group leaves out at dawn and passes first through stretches of land considered 'safe' - safe enough to be generally habitable, and the first couple of hours see the occasional farm on the way. There are few to no signs of Cwyld this close to the city, but then they start to slip into the region considered 'in progress'. These are the lands the Wilders have been focusing on, and so while there are the occasional patches of infected plants, they're easily dealt with by small, controlled burns. As the day drags on and the hike continues, though, the landscape changes. The trees grow thicker and the underbrush more dense. The machetes have to come out at points to clear the path for the carts; whoever is currently on cart-steering duty, please don't damage them! The atmosphere, too, changes around this time; the laughter dies down, expressions become more serious, Wilders are noticeably more alert to the possible presence of Shades or hostile creatures. By evening, the forest is thick and dark, the trees around them ancient and twisting. No one has ventured out to this area in quite a while, the more experienced Wilders will say, and that becomes very obvious. The once-beautiful forest is heavily infected by the Cwyld, and the small cabin that served as a Wilder outpost is overgrown, still bearing the 5-year-old corpse of a dead Wilder. Adventurers are advised to take caution when touching anything - wear gloves and heavy boots and watch your step out here, folks. The way still needs to be cleared. a. The Flora The oldest of the trees present are fully dead, thick trunks turned black and shiny, letting in light from above where their leafless branches reach out to the trees around them. The brush is thick and thorny; even small pricks and cuts in the skin are liable to be infected, a black ring forming around the wound, darkening the veins branching out from it, and need immediate treatment to keep it from spreading. It's hard to avoid other than by simply wearing thick clothing and hoping for the best. Nestled in the roots of the trees are pitcher-like plants filled with a sticky sap; the Wilders are excited to see these, and despite the dangers, comb through them to see if any remain uninfected. The sap in infected plants is black and tarry, while in uninfected plants it runs clear. This sticky liquid is excellent for smearing over wounds to seal them and draw out minor infection, and they'd be delighted to take some whole plants back for cultivation. As well, a certain breed of tree seems to have escaped infection entirely; these tall, woody trees have shiny green leaves, a contrast to the rest of the forest, and bear small green fruits that smell (and taste, should you eat one) deliciously sweet. All is not always as it seems out here in the Wilde, though - be careful which fruit you choose to imbibe. These trees are not immune to the Cwyld, they only hide their infection well. It can only be determined which trees are infected by cutting into them and inspecting the sap (difficult, because the sap of all the trees is highly toxic, and even inhaling near it will have nasty side-effects of vertigo, vomiting, and even temporary blindness). If it runs black at all, the tree is infected, and the fruit, sweet as it might taste, is deadly poisonous. Trees that are only mildly infected are a Russian roulette: you have an 80-20 chance of getting a toxic fruit or a good one. Most of the Wilders don't feel it's worth the risk. b. The Fauna The party spends a couple of days in the Silent Forest out of necessity. Initially, it seems as if there is no animal life left on this desolate patch of land. No birds chirping, no mammals scurrying about, not even an insect to buzz around the explorers' heads. It becomes quite clear that the Cwyld has consumed nearly everything, and the life left is hardly life at all. Shades are not uncommon. When camp is made for the night, capable fighters will have to rotate guard duty and patrols around the campsite, to fight off the shadows of what used to live here as they sense life and magic to consume. Dessicated, white-eyed bucks with cracking antlers, bloated and mutated birds screeching angrily, even, perhaps, the Shade of a bear, huge, enraged, and difficult to take down. But that second night, those who are alert may get the tingling sense that they're being watched. They are, in fact, by a band of nomadic Monsters, primarily Harpies and Arachne passing through. They don't approach the camp, and they won't speak to any of the Wilder group, merely watching them with something like curiosity before they flee into the forest again. It's hard to get close to them before they disappear, more at home in this dead forest than you will ever be, but close observation shows that all are scarred in some way; missing parts of limbs, eyes, or bearing even worse marks on their bodies. c. The Solution It's too thick an area to clear simply by burning. They'd set the whole dry patch of forest alight and kill who knows what along with the Cwyld. Some smaller areas can be taken care of with fire and careful supervision, but the rest of it... The lead Wilder on this expedition, a prematurely-greying Witch named Rilla Sparks, puts forth a suggestion. She admits, it's one based heavily on theory and speculation, along with the findings of certain prominent researchers in the city. If they can find the leyline, she thinks the Witches in their party can flood it with enough positive, nurturing magic to 'flush' the Cwyld out of the vicinity, so to speak. Or, she hopes, enough to make it passable in the future. It's experimental, but isn't that what this trip is about? Discovering new things? If enough of the party is game, the first step is finding the leyline in the area. This can be sniffed out by Witches and Monsters both, as they're drawn to sources of magic, even tainted magic; and, too, if anyone takes a look from the air, the leyline becomes obvious, as it cuts a much darker, more heavily infected line across the forest floor, like a blackened vein. Once it's found, it's up to the Witches in the group. Gathering over the blackened ground, anyone who wants to participate in the ritual should join in pairs or groups, down on their knees to be closer to the earth, and should 'push' their magical energy into the leyline through their hands pressed to the dirt. Each push results in a pulse of light beneath the blackness of the ground, weak at first, but stronger the more magic is expended. It will take several hours, which means the occupied (and then spent) Witches will require the protection of their Monster fellows, and interacting this closely with a tainted leyline will have side effects. A low degree of Cwyld infection is possible in the hands, but not guaranteed. Intense fatigue and dizziness is certain, along with pain when casting spells, and terrible nightmares for as long as the symptoms last - anywhere from 2 to 6 days, depending on how much magic the individual Witch expelled and how much rest they get after. It will take some time to see if their labors bear fruit. They'll check on the area again on the way back; they can't stay in one place for too long.

III. Ruins of a Past Life In the next couple of days, as the journey commences, the obvious signs of infection lessen in the landscape. The trees thin out again as they head further north. With the Wilde just barely dipping toes into autumn, and no thick canopy of foliage to block out the sun, it's a hot, uncomfortable walk. Those on cart-steering duty are considered lucky, getting to sit for a few hours, but it doesn't last - the duty is rotated between volunteers. Enjoy it while you've got it. At one point, with the sun high in the sky, they stop to refill canteens and jugs with fresh water and to take a bit of a swim. Here, the water cascades into a wide lake below, which eventually feeds back into the main river that cuts through Aefenglom farther south. At the top of the waterfall, it's much easier to see something in the distance, that isn't specifically on the route but is a small enough detour (only a mile or two off) that the guides permit it. It's the ruins of a former settlement, clusters of shells of burned out houses and buildings, a dried up well, and the crumbling remnants of a wall - reminiscent of the Bright Wall, but much, much smaller, only about eight or nine feet high at its tallest point. There is no magic left in it, though, nor any people in the ruined town. There haven't been for years and years, judging from the mossy overgrowth and state of disrepair. Some signs of the former inhabitants can still be found in the houses; the Wilders agree to make camp here for a night, to give everyone some time to explore. a. In The Daytime The ruins are depressing, but safe, in the daylight. It isn't hard to put together what happened here - a Cwyld outbreak must have come on them quickly, and judging from the hasty, half-burned homes, it was poorly contained. Some homes still contain skeletons in rotted scraps of clothing, some bones charred and others picked clean by animals. Many of their possessions still remain, except there are no books left anywhere in the town, even on shelves where books obviously were before. The patterns in the dust indicate that the books, all that survived the fires initially, were removed much more recently, within the last year or two perhaps. Otherwise, much is untouched. There are still dishes and flatware on broken tables, rotted blankets on beds, children's toys scattered over floors, axes hung on walls. A sort of thick, somewhat mucous-y grayish-green moss grows in flat sheets over most of the ruins. It isn't infected by the Cwyld; in fact, the areas where it grows seem to be free from it. Coincidence? Not? The Wilders have never seen anything quite like it, and are interested in taking samples back to study. (And for those of you who can't help but put things in your mouths: yes, the moss is edible. It tastes a little... earthy, but gives a pleasant caffeine-like buzz and burst of energy. Good for Witches still feeling the effects of the leyline flushing.) Outside the remnants of the wall, there are years-overgrown gardens, and perfectly good potatoes, asparagus, and raspberries can be found still growing, hardy and perennial even without human hands to tend to them. These people lived a more simple life than those in relatively-modern Aefenglom, as there isn't any magitech to be found, but somehow, they made themselves a home out here in the middle of nowhere. b. Ghosts of a Forgotten Settlement After nightfall, the dead town comes alive again, in a morbid sense. The party will soon find that the sunset brings the emergence of specters of the town's deceased residents - ghastly semi-transparent echoes of humans and Monsters, men, women, and children, in the state they were in at their deaths. Some are badly burnt, others were obviously infected, on their way to becoming Cwyldtid. Now, they go about their former lives every night, filling the ruined town with a sense of dread and foreboding that is impossible for the living to ignore. The ghosts cannot be touched or physically interacted with, and many of them simply ignore the Wilders and Mirrorbound completely. Spectral children play in the streets, adults tidy shops that are no longer there, or head out to the field to farm. They do so with expressions full of sadness, and desperation, as if trapped in this cycle of un-life. Others not only notice the group, but try to turn on them, enraged at the sight of intruders, though their shouts and screams are silent. They can't do any damage, but if they pass through you, you'll feel a bone-deep chill, despite the late-summer heat hanging in the air, and the specters' 'touch' will fill anyone with an aching, heavy despair, or rage - echoes of the emotions the ghosts experienced before their deaths.

IV. The Northern Outpost The sparse forest thins even more to the north. The terrain grows more uneven, rockier and hilly, with drier soil and hardy, sun-bleached grass instead of moss and leaf litter. Several natural rock formations can be spotted in the distance, growing larger as the group gets nearer. The trees here are few and far between, shorter and sturdier, casting only small circles of shade on the baked landscape. Wildflowers dot the grass in every color of the rainbow in the areas that remain uninfected. A low degree of Cwyld infection can be found here, turning the grasses overgrown, dry and brittle, and the sparse trees gnarled and blackened. This is to be expected, though. You can't venture this far out and expect anywhere to be completely untouched. The spot Rilla Sparks chooses for the new outpost is cradled between two large spires of stone, with a cliff-face at the back of it - protected on three sides to defend from animals and Shades, with a relatively clean stream within an hour's walking distance. Construction has to commence immediately. Once they land, it's a flurry of activity, as there is much work to be done. The building supplies are returned to their original sizes and it's all hands on deck to put together the low wooden building. With everyone working as quickly as they can, it should take about three days to get set up enough to consider the outpost open. Also on the to-do list: setting up the teleporter waypoint given to the Wilders by the Coven, to shorten the trip from Aefenglom to this far-flung outpost. It's smaller than the one in Dorchacht, only able to transport three people at a time, but the technology is the same. They'll need as many magitech-capable hands as they can get to calibrate it to the local energies and get it up and running. While all this is going on, exploration of the local area is high on the list as well, to ferret out any potential dangers that may be inherent to setting up here, or potential boons that can be taken back to Aefenglom, and to start work on their maps. There's a job for everyone, and while they're happy to let people do what they're good at, or rotate between different tasks, anybody slacking off will get the stink-eye - you came to work, right? This is no vacation! After the first day, though, things start... getting a little weird. Items start disappearing at random times, just out of nowhere, no rhyme or reason to the things taken. Hammers, half-drawn maps, scraps of wood, your half-eaten lunch if you look away from it for long enough. Personal items may go missing as well, if left unattended, so keep your precious things and weapons close. You may hear muffled voices - laughter, indiscernible chatter - around the times when stuff goes missing; it could be the voice of a stranger, or maybe it's the voice of someone you know, someone you've been traveling with for the last several days. But why would they want to steal your pen, or your handful of nails, or your drink cup? Weirder still, holes in the dirt start turning up in the night. Maybe six feet deep, dug at an angle like the beginning of a tunnel, and cutting off abruptly. Digging further down in these holes doesn't turn much up at first, but checking enough of them will turn up only a handful of the smaller missing items with teeth marks in them. Inconsequential, uninteresting, inedible things, or straight up trash in some cases. With enough persistence and maybe a good old fashioned stake-out, the culprits turn up: a pack of sand-colored, hyena-like animals that perfectly mimic human and Monster voices that they hear (often repeating words out of context, like much dumber parrots - they don't know what they're saying, only what the words sound like), and scavenge for whatever they can get their paws on. The hyenas are aggressive when confronted, and pack-oriented, but can be won over eventually by feeding them, or talking at them: different hyenas like different sounds and different words, so it might take some trial and error. Several bear low-level infections that can still be cured. Maybe eventually they can be trained. But then, where is everything else they stole? Please note that only a very small number of the items missing will be found on this trip! If you don't want something of your character's gone for an indeterminate amount of time, don't have it stolen. It's just possible they might turn up at a later date, however...

Welcome to February's event log, Outpost Problems! The expedition will last about an IC week for everyone who completes the trip; characters can return to Aefenglom with a pair of Wilder scouts at any stop along the way, though. As always, please direct your event-specific questions here! You can tag around for temporary Bonds in this thread, and if your character would eat the fruit in the Silent Forest, please post here for your dice roll (we did say it's a Russian roulette). Enjoy the trip outside the Bright Wall, everyone!

Comments

Percy de Rolo | Critical Role | Witch

[gunsmithed]

i. Forest

[ Percy has spent too long adventuring not to fall into the pattern of night watches. When it's his turn for a shift, he ventures out as far away from the camp as he can go without entirely losing track of where it is, making wide circles around the perimeter. For one, he prefers it to sitting still, but it also proves to be something of a courtesy once the gunfire starts up. The sharp cracks of the pistol and the lower thunderclaps of the rifle are both intermittent, but far enough away that most should be able to sleep through it. But it does make him somewhat easy to keep track of.

The downside of this becomes immediately evident as Percy sweeps through a copse of trees to come unexpectedly face to face with a massive, angry, infected bear. His eyes go wide but he's well aware of how fast these things can move. And his guns are excellent, but ranged weapons do have a very obvious downside when something is this close. He manages to get Bad News up to block the mouthful of sharp teeth coming at him, the bear snarling around the rifle's barrel. He struggles with that for a moment, before wrenching the gun away to swing the entire massive gun with all of his strength and crack the bear upside the head with the rifle stock. It won't do much, but it does at least startle the thing long enough for Percy to scramble away.

He's backing up slightly damp rifle tucked into it's proper place against his shoulder when he hears footsteps behind him, and he whirls to face that direction, then immediately points the gun away once he realizes the newcomer is neither animal nor shade. ]

Do you see it?

[ It's a slightly breathless demand. What little of Percy's eyes can be seen are more than slightly wild. It takes a lot to ruffle Percy, but undead bears might just manage it. ]

ii. Ruins

[ The ruined settlement is unpleasant in ways Percy is trying not to think too hard about as he picks his way through. It's too close to what he's been trying his hardest to avoid back home, a premonition of what he could come back to. If he ever does.

But it's not until night falls that his hair really begins to stand on end. Percy's dealt with ghosts before, and with his mind already on the past, for a moment he misses Pike so strongly that it's almost a physical ache. The spirits don't seem aggressive, but Percy can't let go of the tension running through him. He manages to keep his guns tucked away by sheer force of will, but he flexes and curls his gauntleted left hand, lightning dancing around Diplomacy's metal like it's looking for somewhere to go.

And that hand instantly comes up as one of the ghosts suddenly rushes at him, and proves to do exactly nothing as the spirit rushes straight through him. Not the worst that could happen, but Percy finds himself shuddering in it's wake, eyes closing tightly against the wave of fury and despair left behind. ]

Was that really necessary? [ His teeth are gritted around the words as he makes himself straighten and deadeye any of the other ghosts lingering around tempted to do the same. ] Have some manners, at least.

[ Lecturing a ghost on politeness is possibly one of the least strange things he's done. He's lead a very odd life. ]

iii. Outpost

[ Once they actually reach their destination, Percy throws himself into helping with construction without hesitating. Eventually, he even peels off his frock coat and rolls up his sleeves, regardless of the weather. It's not particularly difficult work, but it is satisfying. He'll go out exploring every so often, just to keep his hand in, but eventually, he always returns to the building.

It's on the second day or so that he returns to where he's left his coat hanging and finds it strangely light. As he investigates with a frown, it only takes a second to realize that something very important is missing -- his pistol. Going ramrod straight in panic, Percy finds the much larger rifle resting where he'd left it, but Retort is just gone. ]

Did you see anyone come by here?

[ He snaps it at anyone nearby, coat still dangling from one hand.

And when the pistol continues not to turn up, Percy becomes slightly more pragmatic about keeping Bad News strapped to his back even as he works. It makes building things a bit more precarious, but he's not about to lose all of his weapons right now, thank you.

And later still, once they've finally figured out the source of the problem, Percy can be spotted a good few hundred feet away from the pack of creatures, sighting along Bad News' barrel with a quiet, intense focus. With the rifle's power, it would be so easy to hit them from here. ]

iv. Wildcard

[ Have another idea? Hit me. Or poke me at talkincodes and we can plot something specific. ]

iii

[zewu_jun]

[ Xichen has been lucky so far not to have lost anything personal. A cup has gone missing and a little food he looked away from, but he's still wary in his new surroundings and Liebing and Shuoyue have stayed in hand with almost paranoid dedication -- particularly after the visitation of ghosts at night. He does pick up on the stranger's agitation when he asks the question. Looking around, he shakes his head with confusion. ]

No one has come by recently, sir. It has been a quiet evening since we made it here.

[ Well, mostly quiet. He isn't sure if he's really hearing voices or it is the trick of some spirit, but that's hardly something to point out to an already-irritated man. ]

[gunsmithed]

[ Percy's frustrated eyes immediately dart towards the speaker, intense for a long moment from behind his glasses, before he takes a moment to almost visibly rein himself in. Getting angry at strangers won't do much good, however much tense panic he can feel growing under his skin at the feeling of one of his guns gone missing.

Almost without looking, he reaches out to snag Bad News and swing it into place along his back, without bothering to put his coat back on first. It makes him feel just a little calmer, with the massive rifle pressing against his spine. Not much, but some. ]

I'm missing something. [ It sounds a little calmer as well, an attempt explanation for the fact that he hasn't just completely lost his mind. ] Something important.

[zewu_jun]

[ Lan Xichen waits with one hand behind his back and a calm expression as Percy draws the large, strange looking object from beside him. He can tell it must be a weapon, although the design is unfamiliar, and he only gets a brief look before Bad News is put away on Percy's back. This is clearly a man on a mission. ]

In that case, allow me to help you look for it. Two sets of eyes are better than one.

[gunsmithed]

[ There's a brief pause while Percy tries to parse that. It's not that he doesn't know people can occasionally be kind to strangers, but it's something he's come across rarely enough that it still takes him aback every so often. He studies the other man, eyebrows drawing together slightly, before he lets out a rough laugh. ]

It's a weapon. [ Dry, as he shakes his head. ] I can't imagine it's just gone walkabout. And not something I'd misplace.

[ For something that might as well be another limb? Definitely not. ]

[zewu_jun]

[ Lan Xichen doesn't blink at all at that answer. He simply nods like the explanation is perfectly natural to hear and stays standing before the stranger expectantly. ]

Then it would be safer to have help, in case whomever has taken your weapon means to do harm with it. If something has happened, you should not go alone at any rate.

[ Buddy system, Percy! He remembers his days as a disciple and the important lessons about safety in numbers. ]

How shall I identify it if it is found?

[gunsmithed]

[ So they're doing this, apparently. Percy can recognize when someone's made a decision they are not going to be swayed from, and he isn't idiot enough to turn down assistance when it's offered.

Especially not someone who seems to understand Percy's worry immediately. ]

Do you know what a pistol is?

[ Strange questions he's learned to ask in this place. Stranger still that he's honestly not sure what answer he might get. ]

[zewu_jun]

[ They are certainly doing it. Even if Percy had blown him off and refused his help, Lan Xichen would have inevitably ended up going along. He would just have traveled at a different pace and kept an eye on the white-haired man using a more respectful distance.

He shakes his head at the question, but doesn't look fazed by his lack of knowledge. ]

What is it?

I

[weirdnecro]

Heck yeah I saw it.

[She'd heard the noise, but she hadn't thought that a bear of all things, would be a problem. She'd been finishing off some deer and having to clean up when she heard the noise, and rushed to see what was going on.

Which was how she was standing there, both hands up in the air, one holding a long knife.]

Fricking A. That was not included in the guidelines and warnings.

[gunsmithed]

[ Well, at least he's not alone. But Percy allows himself to study her a moment longer, eyes tracking to the knife in her hand before he lets out a long breath. They neither of them are prepared for this, apparently. Percy knows bears enough to know exactly what it would take even for one that wasn't corrupted.

Time, then, for a very careful tactical retreat. ]

We should go. Now.

[ He focuses back on the direction he'd come from, where he can still hear something too large and too angry moving, and begins backing up without looking away, rifle still held very carefully at the ready. ]

Stay behind me.

[weirdnecro]

[Yeah, it's nice to have company. But...well, this is not good. It's pretty bad actually. But she took in a deep, slow breath, and nodded slowly.]

Sure. Got it.

[She started backing up with him, slow careful steps so hopefully it wouldn't set the bear off. Good thing bears don't have very good vision. And likely this bear is blind.

She hopes.]

If it comes after us, I'm putting a Cwyld proof shield spell on you first.

[gunsmithed]

Why me?

[ Keeping up a sort of offhand conversation while fearing for his life is almost second nature to Percy by now, but his focus is still very much on the moving foliage in front of them.

This sort of thing used to be much easier when he could just maintain a good distance most of the time. Close-quarters fighting is not Percy's preference, by any stretch of the imagination. ]

I'd think you'd want to worry about yourself first.

[weirdnecro]

[Yeah she gets it. This sucks, this really sucks. Boo to Shade Bears. But...well, while she wasn't bad with close combat, but she didn't want to with a bear.]

I am worrying about myself. You're not going to be able to cover my back if you can't cover yourself. Even if it is to just to run off to get help or something.

[gunsmithed]

Fair enough.

[ Covering someone's back does tend to be one of the things he does best, after all. But it does help to know exactly what he's covering, and Percy's eyes slide briefly towards her. ]

Do you work primarily with magic, then?

ii

[stopfen]

[It was unnerving. And now Mikasa would be picturing all the dead she knew the same way, wondering if those that died when Maria and Trost fell would be the same. Stampeding, half-seen people that chilled the air. She'd mostly been avoiding them. Walking around as if they were still alive.

Pausing at the complaints and turning to look. She stops mid-turn though. Behind the man there was another two ghosts, smaller then the others. Children, hunched up hands over their mouths.

Mikasa knew that look, it was one of mischief. And a small part of her felt like she should warn the man. But also. The ghosts didn't seem to cause pain.

So she's just going to stand and watch what they do.]

[gunsmithed]

[ He's become somewhat used to the feeling of eyes on him, but glancing over his shoulder to find someone solid staring back might be a bit more of a surprise. Percy arches one eyebrow questioningly, then finds himself tracking her gaze back to...two small, see-through figures that he finds eying him with recognizable intent. ]

No. [ The sharp word is accompanied by another crackle of lightning from his gauntleted hand, not that either are likely to be all that convincing against these ghosts. But Percy stares the figures down, the picture of an unamused authority figure with every bit of dignity Percy can draw up. It's not much at the moment, but he can fake it, at least.

One of those ghosts starts forward anyway, then stops to stare back at him. A standoff, presumably. ]

[stopfen]

[While he was having a staredown with tiny ghost #1. #2 was nervously fidgeting, tugging at the hem of their sleeves, a picture of innocence. As they started to wander around him. Looking at Mikasa, then the man, then Mikasa.

As for Mikasa? She was in two minds, the part of her that was a decent person wanted to warn him. The part of her that really wasn't, was internal chanting do it do it...

Instead she just coughs, clearing her throat. ]

[gunsmithed]

[ Percy is well focused on the figures in front of him, but the tension just means he's keyed up enough to react to any other sounds in the area. Like someone coughing. He immediately turns enough to glance back at the person behind him, shifting just enough that he can keep the ghosts in his peripheral vision. ]

Yes?

[ They're still staring. Perhaps it's something like shock at the ghost children, but Percy rather doubts it. ]

[stopfen]

[Well. That one child was still trying to sneak around.]

...That one is trying to distract you.

[Ah. They were sulking now, pouting and crossing their arms. Mikasa just closes her eyes at them. Sorry...]

iii

[thisisamazing]

[Hiccup is lending a hand as well, happy to fall into the familiar pattern of building a structure. If there's one thing on Berk they're good at, it's rebuilding houses after fires and natural disasters. Comes with the territory.

He hears about it, when things start going missing, and when they figure out who the culprit might be - a pack of creatures that mimic voices, that seem to like stealing whatever catches their fancy. When he approaches Percy, he makes sure the other man can hear him; when he looks up, Hiccup is frowning, watching him aim his rifle with disapproval. He says lowly,] If they took your gun, we can get it back without hurting them.

Are you okay, though? You've been really tense this whole trip.

[gunsmithed]

[ Percy holds his aim a moment or so longer, half to keep watch and half out of sheer stubbornness before he lets the rifle drop slightly with a sigh. ]

I wasn't going to kill any of them.

[ Which says nothing about hurting, but that's besides the point. He glances at Hiccup out of the corners of his eyes and lets out a sound that's not quite a laugh. ]

I'm fine.

[ He's been really tense for so long that Percy barely notices it anymore, though the loss of Retort has ratcheted up that tension considerably. Part of him isn't even sure which part of it bothers him the most, his feelings on the pistol have been mixed at best. It's useful, but it's not his weapon. Not really. ]

[thisisamazing]

[Hiccup doesn't refute that, settling down cross-legged to sit on the grass, watching the hyenas across the way.] They don't know what they're doing. Honestly, they don't seem very smart. [The mimicking voices is strange, but he isn't sure they know what any of those words mean that they say.

He glances back at Percy, unconvinced, leaning back on his hands. His expression is completely unimpressed.] You have a funny way of being 'fine'. It's not just the- the creatures stealing things, is it?

[gunsmithed]

[ That's something he's heard before, and Percy can't help a quiet snort. A heartbeat later, he follows Hiccup down, sinking to one knee with Bad News braced across it. Still good shooting posture, if he suddenly feels a need, but at least not immediately tensed for it. ]

There's been a lot happening.

[ And while Percy might be used to following chaos with chaos, he usually doesn't have to deal with quite as many things apparently determined to dig out the worst parts of himself and show them to him.

And that pistol. That damned pistol. ]

For creatures that aren't very smart, they certainly know what to take.

[thisisamazing]

[That's an improvement, at least. He'll take it. Hiccup just tries to be as casual and unconcerned as possible, hoping that will help remind Percy that there's nothing to pose an immediate danger to them.] There has been, yeah. [He agrees, because how can he not? It's been a lot ever since... that incident.]

Are you sure they took it? What would they even do with a pistol? [They mostly seem to want food, and abandon anything that doesn't prove to be edible, at least from the little he's seen so far.] Oh, have you- what if we tried a tracking spell? I've never done one before, but- it's probably more productive than, you know, staring them down.

[gunsmithed]

[ Percy's expression twists into a wry smile. It's at least better than the look he's been wearing. ]

It's not the sort of thing I'd misplace, believe me. And I've spoken to others who have had things taken.

[ There's another moment of silence and then Percy's shoulders suddenly drop. It's not a loud sigh, but it is a release of some of the tension he's been carrying. ]

No. I haven't tried any spells.