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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Penelope was not the type to remain idle, not when a promise had been made. Getting back to town had taken hours, but thankfully she'd managed to hitch a ride as soon as she'd hit the parkway. That had sped up her day immeasurably. Home had been a flurry, energy drinks and some of the other things she'd picked up from Tanaka's Shopping Network.

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.

Penelope's quiet landing went unnoticed with all of the Cie'th's thrashing, and the floodlight more than did its job. Ragnarok's head snapped up to the source. Its hands scrabbled against the broken, unpainted terrain until it found purchase, and hurled another boulder skyward with a spinning throw and a frustrated scream.

The boulder ricocheted off of the ships Mist refraction field, wanging off into the woods far away. And rather than waste time, Pen rushed out of the trees, spear thrusting towards Ragnarok's back.

The spear skittered across Ragnarok's back with a shower of sparks, much like Gil's swords. Ragnarok recoiled from the surprise strike, rolling with the motion and whipping around with a blind backhand.

Pen was prepared for that, already moving backward, Haste speeding her response time to superhuman levels. The spear twirled again and jabbed out, muscle memory making it aim for underarms and potentially softer flesh.

"I won't let you get away this time!"

No soft spots to find on the crystal monster. Ragnarok dodged to the side, then lunged at Pen in a half-tackle, half-punch, much like the beast had done to Gilgamesh earlier that day.

The ferocity of the charge surprises Pen but she holds her ground. Somewhat. Skill alone keeps the spear in her hands, and she falls onto her back, the weapon raised in a bar between the two of them. Her bubble absorbs all the impact, and while she's down she whispers the command word to release a Yahri off to one side to save her ass...but for now, down she goes.

The shield-bubble, unsurprisingly, seemed to offend Ragnarok, just like the existence of literally everything else. The beast slammed a fist against the offending bubble, the force rippling violently across the barrier's surface. Its claws scraped against the bubble, digging into the spell like some kind of giant egg. The creature roared, and begin to pull; a crack appeared, quickly widening into a fissure and sending magical sparks arcing.

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.

Edited 2018-06-03 06:24 (UTC)

Pen's eyes widen as the shield begins to shimmer and crack, willing the Yahri to hurry up and form. This thing...it could tear her apart and she knows it. The armor won't completely protect her, she's aware. It's the one thing keeping her from being crushed already, the physical strength enhancement that it grants oddly reminiscent of power armor in some of her Japanese animes rather than any simple leather.

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."

It's Ragnarok's turn to collide with a tree. The beast dropped the ground bonelessly, and for a solid two seconds... it did not move. Two seconds was a mere sliver of time, but before this, the monster hadn't given any pause in the slightest; no hesitation, no exhaustion, no agony of wounds.

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.

This time Penelope is ready, braced and prepped for battle. And she has a dance partner. The tail comes down, and slides off a hastily constructed barrier of ice, the sheer force spraying chips of it everywhere. Pen's spear jabs in three quick, sharp strikes, a staccato rhythm to the attacks aimed at the monster's feet, knees, and shoulders. Disabling strikes.

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.

Ragnarok's interest was in the ice volley either way; it's rock-like flesh protected it to some degree against weapons, and Shiva's last attack had struck the creature with far more force than the stabs had.

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.

The Cie'th might be surprised, then, when the spear suddenly shrinks down to it's carrying form and out of it's grip. And extends then, driving forward at full strength towards the crack Gilgamesh had left earlier if it was still there. Like something right out of a Space Wars lasersaber battle, Pen's using every trick she could manage.

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.

The creature immediately twisted away from the spearhead to protect the crack, but the icicle collides with it in turn. Ragnarok was forced to buckle to the ground. Its arms flailed to push it up, but it wasn't until its tail whipped around to shatter the icicle that the creature could regain its footing.

The spear falls away, out of Pen's hand, but doesn't drop. Animated by telekinesis, it snaps in again aimed for the same spot.

Her hands, now free, lob another Scourge at it, slashing energy tendrils lashing out at it's face and arms, trying to clear a path through it's guard.

The beast recoiled from the Scourge, but the pain only did so much to the monster. It lashed a hand out to grasp the spear again, like it did with Cu--

--and missed, just barely, claws scratching the spear's haft before it struck. Ragnarok screamed, it's low tones picking up an echo of some unnatural, discordant wail. It swung at Pen and Shiva, but the motion was more of a flailing one as it crumpled to its knees, hunch over its wound.

Ragnarok heaved for breath it didn't need, it's limbs periodically shuddering.

The lashing strike hit Pen's shield hard, sending her backwards, the bubble cracking a little. Shiva, not anchored the ground, is hurled further back, rebounding off a nearby tree, her shield beginning to leak light as it weakens.

This had to end. The spear came back in, this strike trying for another penetrating blow while Pen and Shiva both launched more spells. A wave of ice and another Scourge, trying to create another crack in the creature's crystalline exoskeleton for the weapon to aim for.

She has to end this, and soon. She can already feel the energy drinks wearing off.

Perhaps Ragnarok felt a shadow of the same sentiment, in its extremely limited range of emotion and thought. It suddenly tensed, coiling tighter, and the crystalline portions of its flesh almost seemed to glow from within.

It leapt explosively to the side just in time to avoid taking anything more than a single lash of the Scourge--but there was a slight unsteadiness to the dodge, the creature skittering slightly across the forest floor in contrast to is previously precise motions. Claws dug into the ground to correct course, and Ragnarok charged headlong at Pen with a scream and a swing.

It's a desperate blow, full of channeled rage and pain, but a square one--and despite being all the Cie'th had to give, was a shadow of the strength that threw Cu Chuliann and clove cleanly through trees. The glow in Ragnarok dulled, the crystal reverting to its original black, rock-like texture, and the beast did not stop; it shot past Penelope, fleeing from the floodlight into the depths of the night.

But it wasn't long before another sharp crack! of wood sounded--a small one, more akin to a thick branch than an entire tree. Another, in the distance, and a frustrated growl. And another, and another, growing more distant but more frequent as the fleeing Cie'th kept colliding with (or through) the unpainted landscape at the heart of Recolle's forest.

Then, silence.

The blow strikes true, hammering into Pen and sending her flying backwards. The barrier shatters, glowing motes spraying all over the clearing. She's aimed for a tree, an anguished scream of pain and despair over failing at ripped from her lips. And then she's caught, frigid arms snapping her up and diverting her momentum as the spirit she'd summoned swoops in to save her.

The noise coming from the forest is dreadful and terrifying, and if it were anyone else out there, she wouldn't have pursued. But she does, because some things are worth more than her life. Because the other would have done the same for her. Because it's Freya...

Swiftly moving, Shiva first, frigid weyrlight casting strange shadows in the unpainted woods. It's easy to follow the shredded trail of ground where Ragnarok had moved. Ahead they forge, looking for any sign of their assailant.

The path of destruction is easy to follow, but it's a deceptively long trail, especially considering how many things Ragnarok had clearly hit on the way; it must have plowed straight through to make the speed it did.

But the only sound as they followed the path was their footsteps and breath. No glow, no crashing, no howls, no projectiles. After a minute or two, depending on the duo's speed, the path dropped off down a steep incline, a form laid still at the bottom: a form distinctly lacking in orange and red, shallowly breathing, and face-down in the undergrowth.

Penelope's footsteps pick up as the path comes to an end and she spots that form. Practically leaping down the hill, her fingers already glowing with the spell to summon Cu Chulainn and provide a greater healing than White Hare can provide, she slips and nearly stumbles down the incline.

When she reaches the bottom, the fat monster steps out of the air in a swirl of mist, already complying with Pen's command to heal. Dropping to her knees, she presses a hand to Freya's neck, checking for a pulse as the massive drop of healing energy envelopes the area.

"Freya? Baby? Are you...?!" she breaks off, looking for any sign of life.

A faint pulse met Pen's fingers, and one that grew stronger under the Esper's healing magic; stronger, perhaps, but not quite strong. Freya shifted, barely, and it's a leaden motion, accompanied by an unintelligible sound.

But it's something.

It is. Another wave of magic washes over Freya from the Esper before she banishes it, and then White Hare appears to produce a Regeneration spell. That's better than nothing and hopefully enough to keep her stable.

Arms slide under Freya, the suit and her bracelet making the bigger woman more manageable despite how ungainly it is. Carrying her in both arms, Pen starts towards the ship....

"I'm not letting you go. Not after all that. You lived. You're gonna keep on living, dammit," she grunts, beginning the move up the slope.

Even for everything that happened, Freya seemed completely unharmed, unconsciousness aside. The healing magics aren't quite enough to pull her fully back into the waking world.

She stirred a bit when she's lifted; it's warm. The sensations, and the familiarity of it all subconsciously pick at a vivid memory...

("How many times must you fail?")

Freya jolted suddenly, half-tumbling out of Penelope's grip, a weak and clumsy strike thudding uselessly against her armor.

The fright's strength was short-lived. Freya's legs buckled the moment they touched the ground and she collapsed in a dazed heap. Thoughts swirled uselessly in her mind. What was going on? Did she dream of Orphan again? Why wasn't anything coming into focus?

"Where--"

Edited 2018-06-05 04:24 (UTC)

Pen almost jumps when Freya shifts, but her grip loosens to keep her partner from falling hard and potentially exacerbating things. She's there immediately, darting to catch her as she collapses...

"You're with me. Your brand opened...you changed, and I beat you. It's over, Freya. You are safe, and we're going home."

That was all the truth, the gospel, gods-honest truth. And it felt damn good to say it.

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