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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.
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... ]