open | jeaaaaalousy

[cozen]

WHO: Anyone.
WHAT: Ferreting out imposters.
WHEN: Drakonis 9:50
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: This is a catch-all for anyone who needs a place to put logs related to the envy demon plot. Use CWs in your subject lines.

art

Some number of Riftwatch's members are, presently, envy demons in disguise. Better find them.


RECAP
Previously, all these things happened on one day actually:

• Julius was poisoned and Flint, Yseult, and Marcus killed the culprit.
  
• Marcus ordered the Gallows on lock-down. No one's allowed to leave, but Riftwatch members outside the Gallows at the time are required to return.
  
• Yseult announced the possible presence of shape-changing imposters.
  
• Byerly encouraged identifying people who might be affected.
  
• Templars had a huddle.

Comments

[notathreat]

Clarisse flies back into Ellie's chest, but it's a lot stronger, a lot more solid. She doesn't even stagger, just steps back to catch her, one arm wrapping around her shoulders from behind and putting pressure on her wounds.

It's far more pressure than Ellie should be able to apply from this angle.

But then again, those aren't Ellie's eyes either. They burn gold, molten and glowing, thankfully in a way that Clarisse will find familiar.

Ellie's hand whips forward faster-than-mortal, and the heavy dwarven knife shoots forward, slams home. One-two with Gwen's arrow.

"There you fuckin' are," Ellie growls, dark with rage.

>:E

[sprent]

The arrow's hit barely registers, a needle of pain somewhere in the hip or belly, but the ice spreads, cold fingers brushing up the side of the demon and making it shudder to a halt. Something oozes from the wound, dripping luxuriously all over the floor, black and wet. It stinks.

When Ellie's knife comes flying in, flung with supernatural speed, it wedges into the demon's side; the frost magic, still creeping up and up, seals it in there.

Sagging to one side in pain, the demon lunges and crashes drunkenly, body thrashing around dangerously as it tries to claw its way closer to Clarisse, caterwauling. Limbs are flying everywhere.

[elegiaque]

The number of limbs and how many of them are attached to people that Gwenaëlle would rather not land an arrow in is really complicating the prospect of just shooting the bitch again— though, by the way she's nocked one against the here-and-not-here bowstring, that's very much still on the table. If she has to duck forward with a knife, that's an option, but she's not sure that's going to help more than it might hinder. Too many fucking limbs.

She hesitates; looks down. The thing is struggling on its feet already,

she takes aim again, and either she takes out an ankle or she slams ice magic into the stone underneath, and having decided she's fine with either of those outcomes she looses the arrow.

[laruetheday]

Everything's gotten very chaotic in a very short amount of time, but this is the kind of situation where Clarisse thrives. If the image of a demon shedding Gela's skin like a snake wasn't sitting right at the front of her mind, she'd be having a great time right now.

She shrugs out of Ellie's grasp—they can worry about scratches later—and lunges forward at the same time as Gwen shoots her second arrow. She doesn't see where it hits, only recognizes the slickness of ice under her boot for what it is and adjusts as steps forward, turning what could have been a nasty fall into more of a slide. Grabs her shortsword in the same moment, unsheathes it in one fluid motion and swings in a high, upward arc aimed for the thing's center of gravity.

Yeah, taking it alive was Plan A, but the chance for that has clearly passed. Clarisse isn't going to be at all upset when they kill this thing.

[notathreat]

It's probably overkill, but that's the only kind of thing that's acceptable to Ellie in the moment.

She whips a second knife at the thing, after Gwen's arrow but before Clarisse closes the distance, with what Ellie hopes is the finisher. She knows that swing, knows the strength behind it that Clarisse can bring to bear, and with as much as Ellie and Gwen have hurt it, it would be surprising if it got away.

She has a third knife in her hand, hair-trigger. She's always prepared to be surprised.

[sprent]

The ice magic did not hit the ankle, but Clarisse's shortsword does hit the center of the demon's body and pierce through, making it fold inelegantly, incorrectly around Ellie's second knife buried in its chest. The answering hiss is more of a death-rattle, a final summoning of energy with which to writhe around and knock the dagger out of its side (expelling another spout of horrible, black blood).

It collapses onto Clarisse, less tactical and more — dying. The ice on the floor did not help.

Then, it goes very still.

And then it starts to melt into goop.

[elegiaque]

Involuntarily— “Ugh, that's disgusting,” is sort of rich coming from the third of this party who'd managed to stay almost entirely out of snagging distance of this fight. As the demon begins to melt she takes a few steps further backward, instinctively, her toes curling underneath her bare feet, the thought of stepping in it more than horrifying.

“We should— the baths—”

And report it, but also, doesn't Clarisse want to not have this on her immediately.

“It's getting in your hair—”

[laruetheday]

It is disgusting. A rancid, rotten smell and a sick, warm wetness all dripping all over the front of her, in her hair, on her clothes.

Clarisse makes a disgusted ugh noise and pushes what's left of the body off of herself. It feels like plunging both hands into a rotten melon that's been sitting out in the sun, but the last of the demon's skin sloughs away from her to puddle on the icy floor.

She's kneeling on the ice, watching it happen. Distantly, she can hear the pattering of her own blood hitting the floor.

"Ugh," she says again. She wants to spit, even though she's pretty sure nothing got in her mouth. "Okay. We need to let someone know we killed it. And that someone's going to need to clean this up." And then she will take a bath, or whatever.