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Entry tags:
[open] February MANTAs!
Who: Vincent Valentine and you!
Status: Open to all.
Where: Eltrut, Crescent Isle, Temple Ruins
What: Just a spooky man doing some spooky mantas.
Warnings: None! Yet!
Rumor of a mad alchemist:
[Vincent had spent the voyage to Crescent Isle pensive. Pensive for good reason- given the stories about the island's curse. He had no way around it. None whatsoever- but he'd gone regardless. Chiefly, because the man he was tracking's trail had been cold for months. This- what the merchants had said at the market- the descriptions they'd given- the inventory they'd remarked upon him asking after, was the only lead he'd had in a long while. And he'd intended to take it.
Not that he was alone on this endeavour. Since the MANTA board had been updated, all manner of riftfarers- some new, some old, had sought passage toward Crescent Isle. The deck of the vessel that had carried them was brimming with people showing off items, medicines, trinkets- that they'd obtained or purchased from vendors upon Eltrut which had, upon hearing of the task, sought to make some money by catering to the new demand of not shapeshifting.
Vincent had been ambivalent, save for a few stray glances to the more boisterous groups of riftfarers on deck as they (loudly) show off their items. Trinkets, medicines and items that Vincent did not have. Hence being pensive. Yet despite such- he knew. transforming into a werewolf wasn't ideal. But given his history... not exactly the worst thing imaginable. Regardless of the external, he could keep his head. He knew that.
As his eyes scan those upon deck, they settle upon someone vaguely familiar. And so, he observes.]
The House That Watches:
[Upon his wanderings through Eltrut, usually on route to or from a job, Vincent (of course) had taken special notice of the mansion upon the edge of town. Call it reminiscence. Call it nostalgia. Call it something far more accurate- the simple appreciation of a somewhat spooky piece of architecture. Not like the mansion was anything alike the Shinra manor, of course. It wasn't abandoned, nor was it left to time- and it certainly wasn't falling to bits. Yet. There was something unusual about the place. So much so, that Vincent had found himself lingering by the locked gate when he passed- before eventually moving on. As time had went on and he had passed it more and more, he found himself staring unto the grounds. And finally...
Well.
Whoever happened to be in the vicinity of one of his more recent visits might see something shocking. They might see him, from an idle position, leaning against the iron-wrought fence, suddenly move- scaling to the top of the thing effortlessly, and jumping unto the grounds before heading right toward the manor.
How unusual. The question is, would this person follow the trespasser, or not?]
Not So Animal Farm
Fresh feed. As you wanted.
[Clunk. A bucket of a non-specific animal feed would find itself, roughly, to the floor alongside whomever was elbow-deep in caring for the animals. Vincent, personally, had absolutely no intention of doing as such himself. Only in gathering what needed to be gathered- moving to and from varying people doing their good work, intending on providing a supportive, more than anything else, role. And it made sense to him. He had absolutely no skill at repairing anything. No knowledge of animal behaviour- or even any sort of talent at understanding the animals.
Yet he had come anyway. And for what little he could do- mostly lugging items to and from varying areas and carrying messages- he had no complaint about doing it. Yet he seemed somewhat distracted. His eyes flit about the area, as if he's looking for someone, or something. And, as he does just that:]
Was there anything else?
Temple Ruins
[It was a rainy night. Utterly miserable for everyone involved in keeping watch over the ruins and the sleeping researchers. Vincent was utterly drenched- yet he had absolutely no complaints. If anything, this was something which he was accustomed to. Positioned up high in a ruined tower within the Temple's courtyard, shrouded within his sodden cloak and with his knees to his chest, rifle upon his lap, his eyes showed no sign of weariness or tiredness, maintaining their gaze upon the outside of the temple.
The song of the oysters continued. Faint, whispery, almost- and all around them, fading in and out with the constant hiss of the rain. Yet no animals had shown for a while. Perhaps this verse of the song was intended to gather them. Perhaps when the tempo shifted, the temple and all within it would find themselves beset once again.
Perhaps.
Vincent intended on being ready.
He shifts slightly, turning his head to whom was stationed beside him.]
Get some rest. I'll watch for a while longer.
Status: Open to all.
Where: Eltrut, Crescent Isle, Temple Ruins
What: Just a spooky man doing some spooky mantas.
Warnings: None! Yet!
Rumor of a mad alchemist:
[Vincent had spent the voyage to Crescent Isle pensive. Pensive for good reason- given the stories about the island's curse. He had no way around it. None whatsoever- but he'd gone regardless. Chiefly, because the man he was tracking's trail had been cold for months. This- what the merchants had said at the market- the descriptions they'd given- the inventory they'd remarked upon him asking after, was the only lead he'd had in a long while. And he'd intended to take it.
Not that he was alone on this endeavour. Since the MANTA board had been updated, all manner of riftfarers- some new, some old, had sought passage toward Crescent Isle. The deck of the vessel that had carried them was brimming with people showing off items, medicines, trinkets- that they'd obtained or purchased from vendors upon Eltrut which had, upon hearing of the task, sought to make some money by catering to the new demand of not shapeshifting.
Vincent had been ambivalent, save for a few stray glances to the more boisterous groups of riftfarers on deck as they (loudly) show off their items. Trinkets, medicines and items that Vincent did not have. Hence being pensive. Yet despite such- he knew. transforming into a werewolf wasn't ideal. But given his history... not exactly the worst thing imaginable. Regardless of the external, he could keep his head. He knew that.
As his eyes scan those upon deck, they settle upon someone vaguely familiar. And so, he observes.]
The House That Watches:
[Upon his wanderings through Eltrut, usually on route to or from a job, Vincent (of course) had taken special notice of the mansion upon the edge of town. Call it reminiscence. Call it nostalgia. Call it something far more accurate- the simple appreciation of a somewhat spooky piece of architecture. Not like the mansion was anything alike the Shinra manor, of course. It wasn't abandoned, nor was it left to time- and it certainly wasn't falling to bits. Yet. There was something unusual about the place. So much so, that Vincent had found himself lingering by the locked gate when he passed- before eventually moving on. As time had went on and he had passed it more and more, he found himself staring unto the grounds. And finally...
Well.
Whoever happened to be in the vicinity of one of his more recent visits might see something shocking. They might see him, from an idle position, leaning against the iron-wrought fence, suddenly move- scaling to the top of the thing effortlessly, and jumping unto the grounds before heading right toward the manor.
How unusual. The question is, would this person follow the trespasser, or not?]
Not So Animal Farm
Fresh feed. As you wanted.
[Clunk. A bucket of a non-specific animal feed would find itself, roughly, to the floor alongside whomever was elbow-deep in caring for the animals. Vincent, personally, had absolutely no intention of doing as such himself. Only in gathering what needed to be gathered- moving to and from varying people doing their good work, intending on providing a supportive, more than anything else, role. And it made sense to him. He had absolutely no skill at repairing anything. No knowledge of animal behaviour- or even any sort of talent at understanding the animals.
Yet he had come anyway. And for what little he could do- mostly lugging items to and from varying areas and carrying messages- he had no complaint about doing it. Yet he seemed somewhat distracted. His eyes flit about the area, as if he's looking for someone, or something. And, as he does just that:]
Was there anything else?
Temple Ruins
[It was a rainy night. Utterly miserable for everyone involved in keeping watch over the ruins and the sleeping researchers. Vincent was utterly drenched- yet he had absolutely no complaints. If anything, this was something which he was accustomed to. Positioned up high in a ruined tower within the Temple's courtyard, shrouded within his sodden cloak and with his knees to his chest, rifle upon his lap, his eyes showed no sign of weariness or tiredness, maintaining their gaze upon the outside of the temple.
The song of the oysters continued. Faint, whispery, almost- and all around them, fading in and out with the constant hiss of the rain. Yet no animals had shown for a while. Perhaps this verse of the song was intended to gather them. Perhaps when the tempo shifted, the temple and all within it would find themselves beset once again.
Perhaps.
Vincent intended on being ready.
He shifts slightly, turning his head to whom was stationed beside him.]
Get some rest. I'll watch for a while longer.
no subject
He's silent for a moment, allowing the other man to either continue on his way or say anything more- and at his second question, he speaks.]
There's more to it than locating a single person. And if you mean to find anything, you're going to want to embrace the curse.
[Some new information. Not that much- but enough.]
no subject
Care to explain further?
[ He's not concerned, per se... But it would be terribly inconvenient and waste time to cure it. ]
no subject
I've been after him for a while. [He starts, his gaze moving from the sorcerer to the beach.] Initially, he was active around Eltrut. He would disappear from time to time. Often for a while. As he's been marked to have boarded ships bound here more than once...
[He doesn't know Emet-Selch. But he seemed far from foolish enough to disregard the strong possibility that roots would have to be placed to facilitate longterm stays on this abandoned island.
As well as the fact that for a humanoid, this place would be unsurvivable. For a predator... well. It's almost cosy.]
He's using the curse to his advantage. If you want to locate him, or the reason he comes here, without tracking devices, scent hounds and hunters that know the area- much less, magic or not, defend yourself against him without silver, wolfsbane or mercury- you'll have to do the same.
[He pushes himself off the rail then, moving to the gangplank. He's not offering the opportunity to investigate together. But it's not out of the question. If they were attacked, two werewolves against one would likely tip the scales in their favour.]
...As I intend to.
Monster Hunter had me by the throat I'm so sorry
I need none of those. I'll be able to see him even if he's hidden. However... I take your point about countermeasures.
[ Silver, wolfsbane, and mercury. Those things aren't typically used to counter werewolves where he is from. One just cuts them down the usual way. He wonders what else may be different about them here. ]
You intend to turn yourself into a werewolf then?
don't be! mh is a very good reason to take a break, ive heard its fantastic <3
[A somewhat sardonic response- a throwaway statement more than anything.
Vincent was far more interested in the confidence behind what Emet-Selch says. And it is interesting, that he said that he didn't need specialists or animals to navigate an unknown island- to track something with far more senses at its disposal than a human. His magic, perhaps, is the reason? Or is it something else?
As much as he wonders (and suspects) Vincent doesn't ask. That "something else" is absolutely none of his business. So he nods.]
...I've turned into worse.
[Without allowing room for questioning, he steps from the gangplank- setting foot upon the beach.]
it's so good augh
He follows Vincent off the ship and takes a good, long look into the distance, examining the island. There's the usual small fauna (prey creatures), some predators, and of course people. Nothing terribly unusual.
He doesn't expect to spot anything strange. Wolves are predators too, and humans are, well, humans. He doesn't think a werewolf would stand out in either regard. ]
If you're in need of help hunting then might I offer my own eyes? I think we could make a decent team. You needn't worry about slowing yourself down for me either. I assure you that I can keep up.
no subject
[Vincent's answer was short. Somewhat curt, in his usual manner- but at the same time, oddly distracted. There's an odd pause to the latter syllable of his (short) answer- as if he wished to say something else, but he could not.
His gaze had trailed downward. Not at any of the prey animals that curiously watched them from upon the beach. Instead at an unknown point. His breath comes in a few quick bursts before smoothing, regulating, to a deep growl.]
Į̵̳͙͕̩̬̹̘̳͕̫̭̈̓͐̾́̑͊͂͘͜͠͝͝t̷̡̩̥̥̱̻̣̩̼̄͗͂'̷̘̐͂́͊͐̎͊͐̄̊͒͂͐̉̚ṡ̷̨̰̩̬̼̇̓͋͗͌́͋̓̕͝ ̴͕̻́̄̒͝ḧ̸̨̭̠̞̜͖̖̮̪̺͙͈̯̹̯́́͒͌͗ȃ̷̺̘̝̣̬̠̹̭̱̞̼̠̟̈͑͌̇͒̓̔̐̅͋̕͝p̴̥̥̙͈̱̬̠̟̃̚p̸̫̽̓͊̓͊͒͊͆͗͐̌͠͝ͅȅ̷̲͇̀͑̏̃̽̄̋̂̈́̍̕͘͠n̵̳͍̜̫̮͚̰̹̫̪̻̫̩͎͗̈́̀̐̀̊̍̐̎̈́̅͐̀̇͠ͅȉ̴̤͍̲̄͑͗͛͆̊̆͗͑̽̑n̴̩̗͚͉̺̳̯̯͕͇̼̜͊̅̿̇̈́̃̑̄̀͋͂̓g̸̨̧̟͔̠͖̠̽̄͆.̴̢̩̰͕͔̖̒̀͐̿̌̽͜
[That... certainly wasn't a human voice. Suddenly, Vincent doubles- shielding his face with his arms as he all but hunches over. Then, curiously, his height seems to double. There's a sickening series of snaps and crunches- no doubt his bones twisting and contorting unto their new form. The animals around them suddenly scatter.
This was similar, in some ways, to a transformation more ...commonplace to him. But in others ways, it was not. There were comparable levels of pain, most certainly. But mentally, there was no struggle. No wrestle for control- no need to assert his will over that of the beast within.
Suudenly, he straightens. His form had all but shifted now- and before Emet-Selch stands a bipedal creature- muscle and sinew, claws and teeth, with horns that were vaguely behemothlike- and glowing red eyes. This form was similar to that of the Galian Beast. Yet it was different. The creature, despite holding some similarity to one of Vincent's demons, was coated in thick, black fur.
A werewolf. With a few creative liberties.
It growls as he eyes the man, all but dwarfing him. But then it's nose twitches- and it speeds off into the greenery surrounding the beach at breakneck speed.
Emet's assertion that he would be able to keep up would be put to the test, it would seem.]
no subject
[ Oh. Emet-Selch takes a few quick steps back as the other man begins to grow and buckle. Where most may have turned away sickened by the torturous change and the sound of snapping bone, he watches with avid fascination. It's not the first monstrous transformation he's seen. It certainly won't be the last.
If he didn't know better, he would have said they had turned into some kind of voidsent. But the creature before him is definitely flesh and blood. Like some alchemical experiment gone wrong. ]
Ah. How--
[ --Aaand off they go, bounding away at full speed. Emet-Selch purses his lips, annoyed at having been interrupted a second time. Between one step and the next, he lifts himself a few ilms off the ground and zips after the werewolf. ]
You didn't say you had already accepted the change. By the star...
[ This muttered as he shields his eyes from the speed of his own flight. Where are they going...? ]
pls excuse for butchering soulsight if this isnt how it works, i studied hard but haven't played 14
A scent, which, given the current (tourist) werewolf activity on the island, soon turns rather confusing. it skids to a stop within a clearing, moving its head this way and that as multiple trails become apparent at an invisible intersection- a long, low growl erupting from it's throat.
Perhaps the only human trait left to it. Vague annoyance.
Perhaps Emet's Sight would prove useful. Should he wish to use it, he would find the vaguest hints of varying colours denoting the varying souls which had come this way. Faded. Almost washed away by the elements- leading in multiple directions. Some newer than others. But one colour older, more faded, than them all- only still vaguely visible, kind of, by the fact this path appeared to be well trodden by it.
This colour moves abruptly north, into what would appear to be a thick thicket.
honestly canon didn't explain much either but [cont.]
[ Emet-Selch slows to a stop near Vincent. He can't see what's confusing the man but he can guess. Too many scents crossing over each other. ]
Having trouble? You've scared a lot of the local wildlife.
[ He scans the area in his own way. All the prey animals have gone into hiding but the larger lifeforms are still roaming leisurely. Hmm, except for that one which is abruptly turning away. Like someone trying to escape scrutiny... ]
Try going north.
[ If he's wrong they'll just have to return and try again. ]
no subject
[The creature bristles somewhat as Emet-Selch moves closer to it, and the faintest hint of teeth become viewable from behind its maw. Instinct. Not logic, instinct. The creature adjusts itself after a second, however- control winning out as it allows it's lips to re-cover the elongated canines it had bared.
It lowers it's head and huffs and snorts at the ground, in attempt to capture the specific scent leading north. As one might expect, Emet's eye is true. Without any more delay, the creature springs forward once more- a growl resounding throughout it's chest as it... well, barges headlong through some thick, pointy, thorned, and undeniably prickly barbed thickets, rightly unconcerned, in its present form, about being scratched.
...So sorry, Emet.
You might feel otherwise.
Upon the other side, it shows no signs of slowing. The scent is clear in its nostrils now- and upon a few more minutes of crashing through greenery, it can see something too. Something like it, retreating toward the beginnings of some foothills.
Retreating, only for the moment. The other werewolf turns unexpectedly, launching itself upon the creature which once was Vincent- tearing at him with sharp claws. Biting at him with wicked teeth. Rolling with him, down what appears to be a quite nasty drop.]
/thumbs up!
Oh, for pity's sake.
[ He swoops down, hand extended. The two wolves tumble down a sheer face of rock but then suddenly find their descent abruptly halted.
They may keep kicking and scratching each other even in mid-air but Emet-Selch will lower them both to safe ground. ]
There. Now you may continue.
[ Like he's simply watching a show... ]