recolle | Semi-Open

Entry tags:

Semi-Open

WHO: Freya, Pen, Luna, Felicia; others added as needed
WHERE: Campground, outskirts of Recolle, beginning of the road to Magatus
WHEN: May 20th
WHAT: Freya turns into Ragnarok, and Ragnarok is not friendly.
WARNINGS: Violence

[[Important! If you would like an encounter with Ragnarok, please contact me by PM or at

gsdragono and we'll work something out!]]

One arrow. Another. The next.

They came slower once Freya had sorted out her feelings about the cursed mark, but they still came. Every week, more of that reddening eye stared back at her in the mirror. It was thoughts of Ryoji, both of his monstrous side and his return from death that kept Freya sane.

But those thoughts didn't dismiss the fear of the creature that awaited her, or her other self's despise and heart-wrenching pity for the soulless things. She could put on a brave face all she wanted, but with each passing day, the hope that this time would be different from her other self's world--that the Brand wouldn't work how it should--became harder and harder to muster.

When a spasm rippled through her shoulder and the Brand burned, Freya knew her time was up, and the fear packed beneath the surface burst through to seize her. That was all the invitation the Brand needed. Ragnarok had come.

[Penelope - Morning]

The paint can clattered to dirt as Freya clutched her right shoulder, fingers clutching at the skin through the fabric as though she could suppress the Brand's blazing light if she just pressed hard enough.

"No," was out of her mouth before she could stop it, somewhere between forceful and quiet, and several more desperately murmured no followed as Freya fell to a knee. Not here. Not now, not where Pen could see, their little pact about Freya's curse be damned. She was lucky, probably, for this to happen at the camp grounds, away from the city, but...

A little more time. Just a little more time.

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"No."

That was Penelope's default response, something pre-programmed and hardwired in. She wasn't running from this. It didn't make her any less frightened, but it was the one thing she had resolved not to budge on. If she couldn't follow through on her promise not to let Freya hurt anyone, did she really deserve to say she loved her?

It didn't make her any less fearful, the aching desperation in her partner's eyes sending a chill through her entire body. Her eyes flitted down to the brand, then right back to Freya's. Resolve mingled with dread, and her voice came out surprisingly firm.

"I made you a promise."

Darting forward, she gave Freya a quick kiss before stepping back, fingers moving over towards a different crystal. A sickly greenish light began to pulse behind her, one of her own brands springing to life as she drew on the Esper within. If half of what Freya had said was true, then she was going to need all the help she could get.

Ah. Freya loved that fire and strength. Even if she fiercely wanted Pen to leave, watching her lover step away without pleading, ready to fight and carry out one of the hardest things she's had to do... It brought a surge of pride to her turmoil even if Freya never got a chance to express it.

The blazing light from her Brand expanded almost violently, the eye centered on the mark snapping fully open for the few brief seconds it was visible. When it faded, the creature crouched there only vaguely resembled Freya. Its tail whipped around once, the ornate, mace-like end thudding into the painted ground in an cloud of dirt and debris. Its face turned to the blanks sky, scanning, searching, and the beast let out a cry, low and angry and unnatural, but nearly human-like.

It was definitely the hardest thing Penelope had ever had to do, standing there and watching this. She wanted nothing more than to run, to flee, to leave this nightmare behind...just wake up and banish this like a bad dream. But that is not now Penelope's life goes. She doesn't get to have an easy time of things, and she knows it. She is passed due for a tragedy, and there's only one thing left that the universe can really use to hurt her. Freya, one of the central figures in the life she'd built for herself.

It's been a good run, a few months of peace and quiet, nearly a year with no fights. They've had their problems, they've been separated and been thrown into dangerous situation after dangerous situation, and despite that Freya has stayed steadfast. She's stayed and supported Penelope.

So, Pen stands her ground. It's the least she can do. Reaching one hand out, she yanks her spear from it's place inside the tent, feeling it's cold and solid weight smack her palm. A faint shimmering enveloped her, the now familiar shield covering her as surely as the armor she didn't have on her.

When the change happens, Pen is forced to look away, the brightness of it searing itself into her memory. When the light fades and she can look...her expression twists from resolve to horror. This was something bestial and terrible, a creature built for war and destruction. The vaguely Freya-like shape of the beast was both unsettling and heartwrenching. It made her stomach churn, and not for the first time since all this started she felt sick.

Scanning the creature up and down, she managed not to flinch at that echoing nearly human roar but only just barely. The not-quite human features tore at her, and as she took in more detail her eyes only widened more and more. This thing was like some twisted mockery of the person she held most dear. In an matter of moments something beautiful became something out of a nightmare, and that only solidified Penelope's decision.

Her despair was short lived however, as a deep seeded rage flooded through her. Not at Freya, or this thing...but at the being that had cursed her partner. That gangrenous green light flooded the campsite behind her, intensifying to match Ragnarok's for a brief moment. Pen heard the voice, the clarion call to draw on Cu Chulainn's power.

She knew the thing's history, knew what it was about, and she knew better than to take it in directly. But it's rage? It's fury? That was genuine, utterly lacking in deceit. It hated anything to do with gods, and Freya's transformation resonated with it in a way that mirrored it's own past. It knew the cruelty of gods, knew what a strange and twisted sense of humor they could have...and it called to Penelope.

LET ME FIGHT! PLEASE!

Slamming the butt of her spear against the earth, Pen assented, summoning the Esper. It appeared behind her as always, but stepped around in front of her immediately, letting out a stentorian bellow that shook the clearing.

"FREYA!" Pen's shout seemed tinny and small in the wake of the Esper's bellow. "If you're in there...I'm not letting you go! Give me a sign!"

Edited 2018-05-29 20:03 (UTC)

It paid them no heed, blank eyes turned upwards. Ragnarok had just screamed at the sky again when Cu roared at it, the second cry drowned in the Esper's challenge. That heavy tail lashed again as Ragnarok's head half-jerked, half-tilted in the Esper's direction, and despite its humanoid frame, settled into a four-legged stance.

There was no recognition, for Pen or her captive demon. There was only animosity, growing and spinning endlessly off of itself in a confused mass, chasing a phantom purpose misplaced in time and space.

And that demon that roared a challege--that was a place for that animosity to go. Ragnarok lunged with surprising agility, swinging wide at Cu with a clawed hand and rage created to sunder earth.

That lack of recognition would have hurt if Penelope had time to process it more than a cursory acceptance that it wasn't there. She'd prepared herself for this as much as she could, though. She would not back down, and this was something like what she had expected. Freya was gone, replaced with this savage thing. And that meant a fight.

Cu slammed his feet down into the earth, planting himself firmly and swinging a huge hand at Ragnarok's claw. The blows connected solidly, the sheer force of the Cieth's strike rippling through the fat of demon-flesh. Claws dug in, poisonous blood oozing from the wound, but the demon didn't so much as acknowledge the hit. It's other hand swung in hard, aimed to cuff the smaller creature with an open palmed slap.

Pen, on the other hand, moved back. She knew that brawling with this thing up close was not something she personally could do. That was a job for Cu and her friends, and so she touched two stones in rapid succession. Behind Ragnarok, Gilgamesh made an appearance with a somber expression, all six hands holding enormous blades. And off to one side, purposefully summoned in a bush...Tons lay waiting for a chance to attack.

"Gil. This is it. We have to stop her" Pen willed to the Yahri through the stone, a sense of resolve the only answer from the spirit. Then he surged forward, all six swords bared, swinging downwards to the agile enemy engaged with the demon.

Unlike its human counterpart, Ragnarok didn't seem to be bothered by the poisonous ooze or foul miasma. It couldn't quite plant its feet as Cu had in time, but that heavy tail smashed into the ground to anchor it against the blow instead.

The heavy strike slid the monster a foot to the side and made it pause under the force, but Ragnarok did not buckle. It yelled again in outrage, planting those clawed feet properly this time, and sunk both hands deeper into Cu's flesh; with a pivot and a heave, attempted to uproot the hefty Esper and slam the demon into the ground in the middle of Gilgamesh's path.

Ragnarok's physical strength would definitely be put to the test, trying to heave a Cu. His very skin burns to the touch, though compared to the pain a sumo slap from him would cause it's likely insignificant. He hasn't fully rooted himself, either, so he does go. His arms flail and pinwheel, the ungainly form not really helping him as physics comes into play. Gilgamesh diverts his swords in time to avoid impaling the demon and coating the forest in toxic blood, but it sends the two of them crashing together.

The spirit rebounds, leaping up and over the demon, using it's body to obscure his motion. Down he comes, blades sweeping in a truly massive arc. Meanwhile Penelope flicks her wrist out and lashes at Ragnarok with a Blind spell, hoping to cut the monster off from it's senses to aid her allies.

The not-quite-Freya beast hopped back after tossing Cu, but the follow-up was impeded by a misstep. Ragnarok shook it's head violently a few times--nearly a full-body motion--to clear its vision, but only in time for Gil to come crashing down.

The Cie'th was larger and heavier than Freya, but the force of the strike was still enough to knock it around. The blades sparked across the beast's rock-like skin instead of opening wounds, but Ragnarok still seemed to recoil in pain regardless.

The onslaught forced it back, but Ragnarok soon managed to get its feet underneath it, and the look of fury on the beast's face renewed itself with fresh zeal. A hand lashed out to the side, catching and tearing a picnic bench from the ground to fling it at Gil's head. Almost in the same motion, Ragnarok spun, tail cleaving clear through the base of a half-painted tree, the true height of which obscured by the lack of complete paint.

With a furious cry, the Cieth seized the tree (the bark withering in contact with Cu's blood) and heaved it down in the direction of the Yahri and his allies.

Gilgamesh laughs, his solemn attitude breaking as the thrill of a fight takes over. Despite Penelope's situation, the spirit can't help but enjoy a good fight, and the bench is batted aside with the buster sword it holds in one hand. The tree, however...is something else entirely. He ducks away from it, moving aside. The trunk continues it's arc, and if not for something huge moving into the way it would've collided with Penelope.

Cu rocks back onto his ass with the force of the blow, the tree bouncing off it's blubbery hide.

"What...?" Pen all but gasps, surprised at the thing's loyalty, but then stops to think. If she goes away, he goes away. It's as much self interest as anything. It gives her a moment to act, too. Thrusting out a hand, she hurls another spell. This one streaks out towards Ragnarok and explodes into a shower of lacerating energy tendrils, cutting and slicing and aiming to rip through that rock-like exterior.

Ragnarok did not relent--it was not capable of relenting. It leapt, but not at Gil; the creature bounded to another tree trunk with a four-legged leap before bounding to another, and another, rushing at the Yahri from erratic angles, looking for an opportunity to dash at the spirit. The tendrils hurt, but the pain merely fed its fury. There was a great source of pain.

Gilgamesh harmed. Gilgamesh laughed. Gilgamesh lived. That was enough for the seething hatred, that wordless, thoughtless need to annihilate. Ragnarok moved without any fear of sword or mortal consequences, and if permitted to get close, would collide with his chest or back and do its utmost best to smash Gil's head in, repeatedly.

Gilgamesh was no fool, but he was operating under the assumption that his foe cared about personal preservation. The swords do come in, hard, swift, and brutally violent, slashing down at Ragnarok as it rushes him. They might do some severe damage, but they're meant to ward off something, not counting on that rush. The spirit is bowled over under the onslaught, and while he gives a fighting grin it's clear that fucking hurts.

"Get her off him!" Pen shouts, unable to really bring magic to bear with an ally in close. Cu has to pick himself up, but he's already begun doing something else, fat fingers working through a spell...so it's up to Tonberry. The creature rushes forward from it's hiding spot and leaps into the air, knife aimed squarely for the base of Ragnarok's neck.

The knife found its mark easily enough--perhaps more easily than it should of. It's enough to derail Ragnarok's single-minded animosity towards Gilgamesh, distracted by something... deep-seated. Pre-existing.

Ragnarok ceased pummeling Gil's face to thrash, clawing for a grasp on the small green creature. Once it had purchase, it flung the small Yahri violently away; it was only by coincidence that happened to be directly a tree.

Tons yelps in surprise and goes flying back into said tree, bouncing off it and rolling away. Clearly it had struck a nerve...but the attack gives Gil a chance to strike back. The six armed spirit snaps a lower arm up and slams a blade in between Ragnarok and himself, using the large flat weapon to throw her off. Leaping up, it's in time to catch the spell Cu had been casting.

Curaga washes over Pen and her two close allies, missing Tons, banishing the worst of the injuries and giving Pen the chance to fling another Scourge spell at Ragnarok.

The Scourge caught up to Ragnarok while the Cie'th tumbled from the throw, lashing at it, and it skitters to a stop some ways away. For the first time since the encounter began, there was a sluggishness to the monster: an extra second getting its feet under it, visible effort pushing itself up. For a quiet, still moment, it stooped, head hung low.

But suddenly it tensed and coiled before rearing back and throwing its arms wide, screaming at the sky. The black portions of Ragnarok's hide flashed and turned crystalline and roared again, at Pen and her battle party this time. The beast's tail whipped in a savage arc behind it ripping up a shower of earth; then it spun, hands tearing newly exposed rock and pitching the stone as if it were small.

Edited 2018-05-30 21:52 (UTC)

Well that was a boss fight phase change if Pen had ever seen one. This is probably where her raid timers would be screaming at her to maximize DPS before an enrage timer, however all she can do is skitter to one side to avoid the stone. It rolls and bounces, ricocheting off the earth thanks to the force and slamming into a tree. The splinters fly everywhere, and it's only the bubble that keeps the party from being shredded.

"Right..." Pen panted, thrusting her hand out and lobbing another spell, this time at Gil. The Haste hits him and he moves like greased lightning, rushing at Ragnarok with even greater speed, swords slashing in a frenzy of blows.

The beast responded in kind, ripping more rock from the ground and chucking it Gilgamesh's way. It didn't stop there; as soon as the project left its hands, Ragnarok surged forward to meet frenzy for frenzy. It leapt and spun, vaguely reminiscent of Freya's spearfighting, but with an additional forward twist to bring that heavy tail down with savage momentum. Gil's head, his swords--it didn't matter. All that mattered was harm and destruction.

This time Gil was ready. He knew the creature had little care for self-preservation and instead of assuming it would back off, he pivoted and spun away. That had been a cover in the first place, as another Scourge spell, the last Pen could manage without some time to recharge, flew in towards Ragnarok. A feint.

Cu, on the other hand, simply surged forward after Gil, his bulk much slower than the hasted spirit.

"FIIIIIGHT!" he roared.

The tail split the ground where the Yahri should have been just in time for the next Scourge. Ragnarok recoiled from the pain but rolled with the motion, turning it into a spin and seizing a section of the split and fallen tree. And that section of tree went straight at Cu--or through, if the Esper did not stop.

It wasn't only Ragnarok's fury that grew as the fight (and it's injuries) dragged on; its strength, too, grew proportionally with that fury. A special hatred aided it against Cu--a faint echo of Freya's contempt of the Espers. The Cie'th, in this moment before something else drew its ire, wanted nothing more than to rip Cu into literal bloody pieces.

Edited 2018-05-31 06:46 (UTC)

The tree comes in hard, and Cu isn't stopping. The trunk slams into his midsection, and one arm bats what it can aside. It's not enough to arrest the motion, but it is more than enough to puncture his belly and reveal the rather...horrible...innards. The monster rumbles a laugh and from inside the hole an enormous scorpion-like tail explodes outward in a shower of black blood. It launches itself towards Ragnarok, spewing a boiling swathe of acid out towards it's attacker. The stinger aims right for her throat, glistening like red crystal in the morning sunlight. If it connects even slightly, the sheer explosive force of it might propel the monster backwards at a frightening speed.

Pen's stomach churns a little, the vile sight and stench enough to make her take a few steps back with Gil.

Ragnarok started to twist and clawed at the new appendage, almost like in some kind of overwrought slow-motion. It reached for that glistening tail as if trying to catch a striking snake and moved just far enough to avoid a strike to the throat, but the attack was too quick; it struck Ragnarok square in the chest instead.

The beast managed to grasp the tail just behind the stinger a split-second later, but the sheer force of the blow still sent it ragdolling unnaturally backwards, bending in a way something with bones couldn't. Ragnarok's grip never faltered, though, preventing it from rocketing backwards into the unpainted forest. The moment the monster found purchase on the ground, it sunk tail and legs and free hand into the ground, and yanked with a roar and all of its might in retaliation.

The fell Cie'th hadn't escaped unharmed; a small crack had opened on its crystalline form at the point of impact, about where the sternum would be, leaking light. The first visual sign of injury, but one the monster was all the more dangerous for.

The tail came free in a shower of ichor and gore, but rather than sticking around, it vanishes the instant it leaves contact with the Esper. A shower of green motes and then it simply vanishes. Cu sags a little, arms pressed to it's belly, but doesn't seem at all put down. Something about it just isn't right though, and it lists to one side.

Gilgamesh, on the other hand, is just fine. And taking advantage of the opportunity he rushes forward with his swords raised up, aiming for that crack.

All the beast had time to do was curl its elongated arms defensively around head and chest in face of the hastened onslaught, growling as sparks flew from crystal skin. The beast wasn't entirely without a concept of preservation; it was mindless, but not completely stupid. Ragnarok was a weapon, a walking purpose, and it would not permit threats to that single-minded purpose. But self-preservation? Cie'th didn't truly live. There was nothing of self to preserve.

It ducked further and dove forward into the strikes into an attempt to get within Gil's range. Then Ragnarok surged up, whipping its tail skyward to try and launch the Yahri away from it. The spirit was persistent, so endlessly, infuriatingly persistent.

Persistent is his middle name, because Gil partially deflects that blow, knocking it aside and nearly losing a sword in the process. It's only the Haste that lets him keep up, giving up ground, but he's in better shape than either of the other two creatures. His lower arms flicker and the long swords shift into daggers, better to defend in close if it tries that again.

Skipping back, he puts himself between Penelope and Ragnarok, watching warily, waiting for a response.

Ragnarok crouched low on all legs to protect that weak spot, heaving for breath it didn't truly need; it was a frantic motion more than anything, a vestigial human habit. With a lull in the action, it was less a pause on Ragnarok's end and more a distracted stare passed its two foes to the blank, white sky.

Empty sky. No floating nest, and no concave ceiling of the enemy land overhead.

The Cie'th let out another frustrated cry, and sent another spinning lash of its tail forward, this time cleaving the earth before it to launch another shower of stone.

(Earth. It kept resorting to weaponizing the ground instinctively, reaching for a phantom power it didn't possess; something fragmented and incomplete.)

And without further waiting, it dashed in the opposite direction, leaping from painted trunk to trunk, seeking the highest vantage point possible.

The stone flew in arcs, and a loud, metallic pinging and crunch made Pen turn around. And groan. One of those thrown trees had definitely gone clear through the roof of her car, and the stones hadn't helped. It was useless...and the monster was running.

"Okay. Guess we're hoofing it back to town."

Banishing summons, Pen took off after Ragnarok, though she wasn't going to catch up anytime soon.

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