Oerba Yun Fang (
belligerentwarrior) wrote in
recolle2018-05-28 10:44 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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.
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
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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
no subject
Cu, on the other hand, simply surged forward after Gil, his bulk much slower than the hasted spirit.
"FIIIIIGHT!" he roared.
no subject
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.
no subject
Pen's stomach churns a little, the vile sight and stench enough to make her take a few steps back with Gil.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
Skipping back, he puts himself between Penelope and Ragnarok, watching warily, waiting for a response.
no subject
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.
no subject
"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.
Late Evening
Ragnarok had a purpose--was a purpose. As its existence dragged on, so did its frustration; Cocoon was no here, nor Eden, nor Orphan. The sky that was supposed to bear those entities sat empty and mockingly blank. It was all the Cie'th could do to leap from and cling to the tops of partially invisible trees, roaming in search of greater heights, and howl at the sky.
Occasionally, it threw things, too. Boulders that arced impossibly towards the sky, and broken chunks of trees soared at nothing. The creature's search grew more and more frantic.
Frantic, and erratic. Ragnarok had stumbled deeper into Recolle's wilds, into unpainted territory, crashing into trees and branches and hillsides and tripping over roots. It was hard to miss the resulting fury; the thunderous cracks of wood, of stone, of earth and the monster's low screams could be heard for quite some distance. The beast clawed and thrashed its tail wildly, destroying anything in reach, trying to clear the area in a futile, petulant attempt to rid itself of all these invisible obstacles.
There was nothing here. Nothing. No land, no sky, no Cocoon, no purpose. The only thing left that it could do was destroy, and wallow in its miserable tantrum like any other Cie'th.
no subject
Getting on her armor, she hadn't wasted any time in leaping into her airship and taking off searching. Sweeps of the city and sweeps of the surrounding area, and passing over the forest had yielded little in the way of clues until eventually after dusk, her sensors exploded with sound. The entire console light up as it picked up on a powerful lifeform. Exterior cameras provided a sight, the monster rampaging through the forest, and that meant it was time.
Casting Float on herself, leaving the ship high in the air to provide light from it's searchlights, Pen leaped out, spear in one hand A soft crunch echoed in the forest, and she advanced quickly, looking for the monster. She didn't want to summon just yet, not wanting to attract it's attention with a lightshow. So this would have to do. She just hoped that it hadn't heard her land and was distracted by the floodlight.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"I won't let you get away this time!"
no subject
no subject
no subject
If it were a movie, or one of those cheesy animated shows of Pen's... perhaps this is where there'd be some flicker of recognition, or maybe hesitation; but no, nothing sat in those blank eyes. Nothing but murderous rage could be found the beast's distorted cries, and the moment the weakness appeared in the bubble, Ragnarok slammed its head against the fissure in the shield.
The barrier shattered. The Cie'th's weight fell harder against the bar of the spear, and it reared a clawed hand, tail whipping wildly behind it, and drove its claws down at Penelope's head.
no subject
Fear isn't as distant as she'd like, and pain too. The rage...the almost-Freya like face...and the blankness of it are troubling. It's little better than an animal, and being this close only solidifies that.
When the claw rises, Pen's enhanced reflexes are all that keep her head in place. She jerks her head to one side at the last instant, the claw catching the tip of her braid and shearing off the end.
...just as Shiva's attack slams into the distracted monster's side. A wave of ice a dozen feet thick and ten feet wide launched at the Yahri's waist height smashes into the creature, passing harmlessly over Penelope and moving with enough force to send Ragnarok flying. Pen kips up as soon as she's free, the bubble reforming quickly.
"Thanks, Shiva."
no subject
But the spell is soon broken, and Ragnarok pushed itself back to a four-legged stance, glowering at the newcomer.
Then it's off again in a burst of speed, dashing towards Pen and Shiva, finishing the charge with a flip and downward strike of its tail.
no subject
Shiva follows up with a volley of crystalline shards, hoarfrost spears as long as a man's arm seeking to prevent the monster from evading Penelope's attack.
no subject
Ragnarok swept it tail against the volley, smashing a majority of the shards out of the air; the foot and knee strikes connected with sparks, but the third... the Cie'th's hand caught the Zodiac Spear, elongated hand curling around the haft with a vice grip.
The most it could do from here was sweep its tail again, throwing a random assortment of unpainted ground debris at the Yahri.
no subject
The monster's attack on Shiva batters a hastily constructed cocoon of ice, the spirit taking a few shards of rock that don't seem to slow it too much. It answers with another attack, a massive icicle forming behind Ragnarok and driving down towards it's back.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
2 days later
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)