I Got Better | OTA

[limier]

WHO: Merrill, Wysteria, Coupe & YOU
WHAT: Let's turn into some animals.
WHEN: Don't make me look up what month this is.
WHERE: Wildervale, the Free Marches.
NOTES: Full OOC info. Please feel free to make your own top-levels.

Something strange is afoot in Wildervale.

Those who venture into the forest will sprout fur and scales, transforming into animals. The locals believe a witch to blame, but it may have something to do with the rift at the heart of the woods.


OOC NOTES:

You can choose an animal, or randomly generate one.

Animals must be native to the area (no pokemon, no dragons).

Leaving the area will return characters to human form. Re-entering will transform them into a different animal.

Characters will keep their minds, but gain new senses and instincts.

Clothes will rip or fall off.

They can't talk.

They can't use magic.

Anchors will still function in their cute, itty-wittle paws.

Please feel free to make your own top-levels for whatever you, personally, want to do.

Comments

[chainlightning]

Shapeshifting is all very fascinating. It has remained fascinating even though Merrill has changed into animals ranging from a bear to a cricket, but it is, perhaps, something she doesn't ever want to study this closely ever again.

Or something she absolutely wants to study this closely again. It varies wildly, depending on the form she's found.

The one she's in now isn't terrible. Merrill is a squirrel, all energy and puffed up tail. She had raced along in Wren's wake for a bit, including beneath her, before bounding up a tree and leaping from branch to branch in frantic, albeit very excited, way.

In a word, she looks like a squirrel, though possibly a squirrel with very poor self-preservation.

There's an excited chitter in response to the croak and trill. At least, it's probably in response; it may very well mean 'I smell magic!' or 'Look at how far I can leap!' or just as an excited chitter. Being a squirrel does, it seems, involve a lot of high energy.

Or that could just be Merrill.

[limier]

The rift is ahead. The grub is theoretically disgusting (if nutty in profile). Merrill is --

A squirrel. All prior pleading to stick with the bear, please, Merrill will you just stick with, fell on deaf ears. Which is what generally happens when one pleads as a turtle, and for the best that fate's overruled her: Wings and quick paws may prove vital in the task ahead.

The slogging legs of a swamp creature weren't meant for long travel. By the time they reach the edge of the clearing, the seam of Fade above, she could murder for a wallow in the mud.

They aren't murdering much right now.

Remnants of dispatched spirits coalesce, reform; the features of wraiths as inconstant as their own shifted flesh. Disinterested, until any of them draw too close or dip too low. Grazing the haze of one's head, or leaping through the impression of ribs will provoke a fiery response. Otherwise Merrill and Wysteria will make it farther than any larger beast, may inspect the treasures at their will.

Coupe flops upon a scraped orange belly, her jaws lolling wide as any bucket, and waits.

[heirring]

Wysteria lands with a rattle of drying leaves on some thin branch above, wobbling sideways to firmer footing as it begins to bow under her minuscule weight. Were they people (or elves; whatever), this might be the moment to have a discussion. In which direction shall I go? How do we want to deal with that ugly spirit lurking just there at the rift? And so on.

Yet here they are, the (rough) plan having been discussed hours ago when they'd still been roughly their correct humanoid shapes and now utterly inflexible.

Still, the basic tenents stand. She will act as a distraction by making an effort to close the rift; from there, its Merrill and Coupe's job to take care or the artifact itself. It isn't complicated.

(It just means relying on a squirrel and a swamp thing for a rescue should something go wrong.)

The woodpecker hops uncertainly along its branch. Chirp, it says. Maybe that means 'Ready?'

[chainlightning]

Coupe is tired; it's tempting to scurry down and pat her big, swamp-thing head. Perhaps later; for now, Merrill thinks that would likely attract too much attention and, potentially, result in being taken in Coupe's mouth and shaken about a bit. She darts down the tree anyway, but it's to get ready to dart forward into the artifacts.

Which she does, after a chitter to the others. 'I'm going in!'

Now, she just has to find the artifact. It would be much easier, Merrill thinks, even as she races forward, if there weren't so many of them. At least they all give some measure of cover, in case she gets a little too close to one of the demons.