wнen тнe мoυnтaιn тoυcнeѕ тнe valley. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
midvalley) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pullmeoutalive2014-06-27 11:45 pm
midvalley) wrote in pullmeoutalive2014-06-27 11:45 pm
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Alright then. You're a cynic.
[ He considers stubbing the cigarette out on the piano, by decides against it at the last moment. The Hornfreak would certainly have his head for that. Instead, he drops it to the ground, grinds it out with his heel. ]
It's just a thing I gotta take care of. Need you to make sure Spiky doesn't do anythin' suicidal without me.
[ He considers stubbing the cigarette out on the piano, by decides against it at the last moment. The Hornfreak would certainly have his head for that. Instead, he drops it to the ground, grinds it out with his heel. ]
It's just a thing I gotta take care of. Need you to make sure Spiky doesn't do anythin' suicidal without me.
[ He makes a buzzer noise. ] Wrong.
Keep him focused on what he's gotta do. Bad enough he's gotta take down a psychopath with almost godly powers.
Just cover for me.
Keep him focused on what he's gotta do. Bad enough he's gotta take down a psychopath with almost godly powers.
Just cover for me.
He will. He's a dumbass like that. Helps that you had a hand in bustin' him out, too.
And if that doesn't work, tell him to listen to you 'cause I said so.
And if that doesn't work, tell him to listen to you 'cause I said so.
[ The country of Fiore lay across the ocean from Thedas. The two often had very little to do with each other, their cultures and technologies were leagues apart, and the distance between them too great for trade routes to be of any profit. A ship from Fiore would cross over once every several months to bring a small smattering of passengers, messages, or goods, but that was really all the contact they had with one another.
It was only by chance that news of the Conclave and the rifts reached Fiore at all. Most dismissed them as wild stories, but one wizarding guild in particular had experienced holes in reality first hand, and thought it best to investigate. That’s where Gajeel Redfox came in, a wizard of the Fairy Tail guild, and a dragon slayer as well. The portals that Fairy Tail had encountered before- powerful spells called Anima- did not work on dragon slayers, and since the other two dragon slayers in the guild couldn’t go for various reasons (Wendy was far too young to make a trip like that on her own, and Natsu got motion sick just standing on a ship at the docks), he was assigned to make the trip.
That suited the Iron Dragon Slayer fine. It was a chance to do some traveling, and, if the rumors were true, he’d get a few good fights out of this journey.
The Guild Master had tried to send word ahead, to get in touch with the Inquisition’s diplomat and let her know a wizard from Fiore was coming to aid their cause, if they needed him. (He may be rough around the edges, Master Makarov had written. But he’s one of the best Fairy Tail has to offer. I hope he can be of help to you.) Whether or not the message got through, Gajeel didn’t know, but either way he was making the trek to Skyhold.
He was smart enough to know that his appearance would probably garner some unwanted attention- considering the iron studs embedded on his limbs and his face- so he kept himself cloaked until he arrived at Skyhold’s main gate.
And that’s where he currently is, engaged in an argument with one of the guards who was refusing to let him pass, on account of being “suspicious”. ]
You wanna go, tin can? I’ll eat your armor for breakfast.
It was only by chance that news of the Conclave and the rifts reached Fiore at all. Most dismissed them as wild stories, but one wizarding guild in particular had experienced holes in reality first hand, and thought it best to investigate. That’s where Gajeel Redfox came in, a wizard of the Fairy Tail guild, and a dragon slayer as well. The portals that Fairy Tail had encountered before- powerful spells called Anima- did not work on dragon slayers, and since the other two dragon slayers in the guild couldn’t go for various reasons (Wendy was far too young to make a trip like that on her own, and Natsu got motion sick just standing on a ship at the docks), he was assigned to make the trip.
That suited the Iron Dragon Slayer fine. It was a chance to do some traveling, and, if the rumors were true, he’d get a few good fights out of this journey.
The Guild Master had tried to send word ahead, to get in touch with the Inquisition’s diplomat and let her know a wizard from Fiore was coming to aid their cause, if they needed him. (He may be rough around the edges, Master Makarov had written. But he’s one of the best Fairy Tail has to offer. I hope he can be of help to you.) Whether or not the message got through, Gajeel didn’t know, but either way he was making the trek to Skyhold.
He was smart enough to know that his appearance would probably garner some unwanted attention- considering the iron studs embedded on his limbs and his face- so he kept himself cloaked until he arrived at Skyhold’s main gate.
And that’s where he currently is, engaged in an argument with one of the guards who was refusing to let him pass, on account of being “suspicious”. ]
You wanna go, tin can? I’ll eat your armor for breakfast.
[ Ian Wavewalker had been a lot of things in his life; an outcast, a pirate, a friend and brother, an unintentional hero, an errand boy for the god of death, and now, a prisoner. (Speaking of the god of death, once Ian got back to his own plain of existence, he was going to have to have a talk with his good friend and employer.)
It had all began a few hours ago. Ian had been chasing a couple of lost souls- literal lost souls, all part of the job of working for Gatekeeper- running full-tilt through the jungle when he felt a subtle shift in reality. It was as though everything just sort of slid slightly off-kilter, and though the jungle had not physically changed, the smells and the sounds were all suddenly different. Ian had to wonder if he’d shifted locations or realities altogether. (Gatekeeper had hinted more than once about being the guardian of more than just the Gate between this life and the next. Perhaps he walked in different worlds as well?) But whatever had happened, he was no longer where he started, and his senses had lost all trace of the souls he was chasing.
It was dark, but the moon was full and bright, more than enough to light his way as he tread cautiously through the brush. It was then he came face to face with her- an Old One, as his people called them. Her scales were dark, though he caught the slightest hint of blue in the moonlight, and her eyes bright. The Raptori and the raptor eyed each other for some time. Ian had never seen an Old One before. They were the stuff of books and stories, clever and vicious, but long gone. She was surely intelligent- he could see it in the way she looked at him, the way she scented the air, and recognized him as Kin- but she didn’t possess the ability to speak.
But then something else was moving through the forest, and the Old One bolted for cover. Ian thought it wise to do much of the same, and took to the treetops. Men in strange outfits with strange weapons and devices appeared. He could understand their speech well enough, and he guessed they were looking for the Old One. Hunters of some kind?
One of the machines beeped, and the man holding it said something about a thermal reading, whatever that was, and the others gathered around his device. What is that? one breathed, and Ian knew he had been found somehow. He didn’t get far before something sharp pricked into his shoulder, and he felt suddenly sluggish. He tore the offending dart out of his shoulder as he bounded through the trees, but more followed, and it was quickly becoming a losing battle. He had enough time and enough foresight to wedge his clothes, glasses, and weapons in the fork some tree branches before they finally brought him down. Let them think him some wild animal, like the Old One.
It was a charade he kept up with when he woke. He wouldn’t let anyone near him, charging the bars of his cage, snarling and growling and swiping his claws. He didn’t speak to the men who came to look at him. They wondered whose “project” he was. They wondered about “military applications”. They wondered if he could understand them. Oh, if only they knew. These men- InGen was the word emblazoned on their clothes, though he didn’t know what that meant- weren’t about to let him go. Not even if he stood and spoke to them. (He got the feeling especially not then.) Better to play dumb.
Better to wait for the right human. ]
It had all began a few hours ago. Ian had been chasing a couple of lost souls- literal lost souls, all part of the job of working for Gatekeeper- running full-tilt through the jungle when he felt a subtle shift in reality. It was as though everything just sort of slid slightly off-kilter, and though the jungle had not physically changed, the smells and the sounds were all suddenly different. Ian had to wonder if he’d shifted locations or realities altogether. (Gatekeeper had hinted more than once about being the guardian of more than just the Gate between this life and the next. Perhaps he walked in different worlds as well?) But whatever had happened, he was no longer where he started, and his senses had lost all trace of the souls he was chasing.
It was dark, but the moon was full and bright, more than enough to light his way as he tread cautiously through the brush. It was then he came face to face with her- an Old One, as his people called them. Her scales were dark, though he caught the slightest hint of blue in the moonlight, and her eyes bright. The Raptori and the raptor eyed each other for some time. Ian had never seen an Old One before. They were the stuff of books and stories, clever and vicious, but long gone. She was surely intelligent- he could see it in the way she looked at him, the way she scented the air, and recognized him as Kin- but she didn’t possess the ability to speak.
But then something else was moving through the forest, and the Old One bolted for cover. Ian thought it wise to do much of the same, and took to the treetops. Men in strange outfits with strange weapons and devices appeared. He could understand their speech well enough, and he guessed they were looking for the Old One. Hunters of some kind?
One of the machines beeped, and the man holding it said something about a thermal reading, whatever that was, and the others gathered around his device. What is that? one breathed, and Ian knew he had been found somehow. He didn’t get far before something sharp pricked into his shoulder, and he felt suddenly sluggish. He tore the offending dart out of his shoulder as he bounded through the trees, but more followed, and it was quickly becoming a losing battle. He had enough time and enough foresight to wedge his clothes, glasses, and weapons in the fork some tree branches before they finally brought him down. Let them think him some wild animal, like the Old One.
It was a charade he kept up with when he woke. He wouldn’t let anyone near him, charging the bars of his cage, snarling and growling and swiping his claws. He didn’t speak to the men who came to look at him. They wondered whose “project” he was. They wondered about “military applications”. They wondered if he could understand them. Oh, if only they knew. These men- InGen was the word emblazoned on their clothes, though he didn’t know what that meant- weren’t about to let him go. Not even if he stood and spoke to them. (He got the feeling especially not then.) Better to play dumb.
Better to wait for the right human. ]
Edited 2015-07-27 22:55 (UTC)
[ Dorian remembers some vague discussion with the Inquisitor. Something about a new wizard arriving from a guild from Fiore. The mage had been equal parts intrigued and skeptical, knowing little of magic from Fiore; evidently, neither did any of the other mages within the inner circle, to the Inquisitor's chagrin.
The mage had apologized, noting he would scrounge up what little information they have, for which the Inquisitor thanked him. She had also smiled wryly and said, Try not to get too jealous, either. I just want you to know, you'll always be my favorite, mysterious mage from a faraway land.
Please, my dear Inquisitor, Dorian had responded haughtily. I am everyone's favorite.
Dorian is climbing down the steps from Cullen's tower when he hears the commotion at the front gates. For a few moments, he merely watches from the battlements, amused by the growing agitation of all parties involved. He idly expects the confrontation might come to blows, and he glances back at the closed door of Cullen's office. The poor man had been suffering greatly from his withdrawal symptoms, as of late, and no doubt they would call on the Commander, should things get out of hand.
The mage sighs to himself, then climbs the steps down to the main gate. ]
Trouble, gentlemen?
The mage had apologized, noting he would scrounge up what little information they have, for which the Inquisitor thanked him. She had also smiled wryly and said, Try not to get too jealous, either. I just want you to know, you'll always be my favorite, mysterious mage from a faraway land.
Please, my dear Inquisitor, Dorian had responded haughtily. I am everyone's favorite.
Dorian is climbing down the steps from Cullen's tower when he hears the commotion at the front gates. For a few moments, he merely watches from the battlements, amused by the growing agitation of all parties involved. He idly expects the confrontation might come to blows, and he glances back at the closed door of Cullen's office. The poor man had been suffering greatly from his withdrawal symptoms, as of late, and no doubt they would call on the Commander, should things get out of hand.
The mage sighs to himself, then climbs the steps down to the main gate. ]
Trouble, gentlemen?
[ Gajeel really doesn't know what to make of the look the guard gives Dorian- part annoyed and part startled. The dragon slayer crosses his arms over his chest, regarding the mage levelly with red eyes. (Perhaps Makarov should have sent someone less scary looking.) ]
There's about to be.
[ The guard, for his own part, lamely offers, He says he's from some place called Fairy Tail. ]
There's about to be.
[ The guard, for his own part, lamely offers, He says he's from some place called Fairy Tail. ]
[ Owen has no idea when InGen became staffed with idiots, but it had to have happened between Masrani's acquisition of the genetics company and the moment someone had some sort of fever dream to put together a cocktail of all the scariest shit the prehistoric world had to offer. So when an InGen representative had tracked him down, told him they needed his help, he couldn't have hung up any faster.
Until the second time. And then the third.
The fourth time, the representative managed to get out the word "raptor," and while that gave Owen pause, he still hung up, all the same.
After that, Owen did something very, very stupid. It involved chartering a boat. It involved slinging a gun over his shoulder, holstering a pistol to his hip. It involved dark clothes and sneaking onto a private island in the dead of night. His good judgment always did lapse when it came to his raptors.
He's not entirely sure what he plans to do here, honestly. Owen is usually a practical man, usually knows the right course of action to take given the odds. But this time, all he has is a vague sense that he has to do something. Military applications, they had kept saying. As if Blue were a weapon they could simply aim and shoot. As if the raptor would listen to any blowhard high on his own machismo. A lot of men would get hurt in her capture, which a sadistic part of him thinks they deserve; but Blue could get hurt in her recapture, as well, and that he can't really abide.
When he finds their main camp, he stays well out of sight, using the foliage to conceal himself. The place is abuzz with activity, with puzzled, excited chattering about breakthroughs and hybrids and scientific miracles. There's a patrol circling around one tent in particular, though it's routine and lazy, more for appearances than actual guarding. It's easy enough for Owen to time the blind spot in their trek, to wrench out one of the stakes and roll beneath the loosened flap, and all of it in near silence.
The area inside of the tent is spacious and lit brightly; there are only a few cages here, though most of them empty. No Blue, and that comes as a relief.
Definitely something else, though, and Owen stops in his tracks when he finds it. ]
... What the hell?
Until the second time. And then the third.
The fourth time, the representative managed to get out the word "raptor," and while that gave Owen pause, he still hung up, all the same.
After that, Owen did something very, very stupid. It involved chartering a boat. It involved slinging a gun over his shoulder, holstering a pistol to his hip. It involved dark clothes and sneaking onto a private island in the dead of night. His good judgment always did lapse when it came to his raptors.
He's not entirely sure what he plans to do here, honestly. Owen is usually a practical man, usually knows the right course of action to take given the odds. But this time, all he has is a vague sense that he has to do something. Military applications, they had kept saying. As if Blue were a weapon they could simply aim and shoot. As if the raptor would listen to any blowhard high on his own machismo. A lot of men would get hurt in her capture, which a sadistic part of him thinks they deserve; but Blue could get hurt in her recapture, as well, and that he can't really abide.
When he finds their main camp, he stays well out of sight, using the foliage to conceal himself. The place is abuzz with activity, with puzzled, excited chattering about breakthroughs and hybrids and scientific miracles. There's a patrol circling around one tent in particular, though it's routine and lazy, more for appearances than actual guarding. It's easy enough for Owen to time the blind spot in their trek, to wrench out one of the stakes and roll beneath the loosened flap, and all of it in near silence.
The area inside of the tent is spacious and lit brightly; there are only a few cages here, though most of them empty. No Blue, and that comes as a relief.
Definitely something else, though, and Owen stops in his tracks when he finds it. ]
... What the hell?
[ Ah, now there's an unfamiliar voice. Ian glances up from where he sits in the corner, blinking owlishly at this intruder with green eyes.
He notices this man's clothes lack the logo he's come to know and resent so much. That might be a plus. But still, he holds his tongue, cautiously standing. He's never been especially tall, but he remains half-crouched as he edges for the bars ]
He notices this man's clothes lack the logo he's come to know and resent so much. That might be a plus. But still, he holds his tongue, cautiously standing. He's never been especially tall, but he remains half-crouched as he edges for the bars ]
"Fairy Tail."
[ Now, that's familiar. Well, aside from the obvious homophonous connection, and perhaps that is what's causing the poor guard his concern -- that the man was telling him he was "from a fairy tale."
And that's to say nothing of the man's frankly alarming appearance. Cloaked as he was, it did little to conceal the metal glinting along his brow and the bridge of his nose. Dorian tilts his head as he regards the wizard again with new appreciation. ]
And under whose direction were you sent?
[ Now, that's familiar. Well, aside from the obvious homophonous connection, and perhaps that is what's causing the poor guard his concern -- that the man was telling him he was "from a fairy tale."
And that's to say nothing of the man's frankly alarming appearance. Cloaked as he was, it did little to conceal the metal glinting along his brow and the bridge of his nose. Dorian tilts his head as he regards the wizard again with new appreciation. ]
And under whose direction were you sent?
[ Well.
This.
Is new.
Owen remains where he is, half-crouched, himself, and staring at the creature warily. InGen project, like the Indominus rex? He approaches slowly to examine it more closely. When he speaks, it's in a murmur to himself, ]
What did they cook up this time?
This.
Is new.
Owen remains where he is, half-crouched, himself, and staring at the creature warily. InGen project, like the Indominus rex? He approaches slowly to examine it more closely. When he speaks, it's in a murmur to himself, ]
What did they cook up this time?
Edited 2015-07-28 03:59 (UTC)
[ Ah, good. That was the answer he was looking for. Test, indeed. ]
While I might be interested in perusing that list later, for now I merely require your name.
While I might be interested in perusing that list later, for now I merely require your name.
[ Now Ian's right at the edge of the cage, wrapping the clawed fingers of one hand around a bar. The other, he brings to his lips in a "hush" motion.
He's taking a risk here, he knows, but this fellow clearly did not show up here with an invitation. ]
Can you get me out of here?
He's taking a risk here, he knows, but this fellow clearly did not show up here with an invitation. ]
Can you get me out of here?
[ ... what the shit.
what the shit.
Thankfully, Owen takes this new development with surprising aplomb, merely tensing and narrowing his eyes. Then, as if he can't quite believe it even having witnessed it, ]
... You can talk.
what the shit.
Thankfully, Owen takes this new development with surprising aplomb, merely tensing and narrowing his eyes. Then, as if he can't quite believe it even having witnessed it, ]
... You can talk.
[ Ian has to smile a little, tail giving an amused twitch ]
More than that, but I'd much prefer not to discuss the finer details right here.
So, can you or can you not get me out of here?
More than that, but I'd much prefer not to discuss the finer details right here.
So, can you or can you not get me out of here?
[ He pauses, regarding the creature -- probably male. He sounds male. After a second of silence, ]
Only if you tell me who or what you are. [ He doesn't want to unwittingly release some sort of killing machine, after all. ]
Only if you tell me who or what you are. [ He doesn't want to unwittingly release some sort of killing machine, after all. ]
The mustache is merely that -- a mustache.
The man to which it is attached, however, is Dorian Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. [ He offers a far less dramatic nod in return. ] Charmed.
[ The mage turns to the guards, both of whom look baffled and concerned. ]
This man is expected by the Inquisitor. I assure you, it would likely be in your best interest to admit him. I would not take his threat to eat your armor idly.
The man to which it is attached, however, is Dorian Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. [ He offers a far less dramatic nod in return. ] Charmed.
[ The mage turns to the guards, both of whom look baffled and concerned. ]
This man is expected by the Inquisitor. I assure you, it would likely be in your best interest to admit him. I would not take his threat to eat your armor idly.
My name is Ian. And I'm not experiment, as much as you and the others seem to suspect it.
It's really rather convoluted, but I'd rather not get into it with so many people traipsing around outside.
It's really rather convoluted, but I'd rather not get into it with so many people traipsing around outside.
Ian, then.
[ ... Okay.
So. Clearly an intelligent creature, and he doubts InGen has worked their way up to cooking up something this self-aware that could learn speech. Something else, then.
... ... ... Okay.
He knows most of the cages back in the park were controlled by touch pads, usually warranting some sort of pass code. Owen's surprised when he finds this one is a simply lock and key affair; he guesses that this InGen operation is either a low budget affair, or else the disaster at the park had taken a huge toll.
Luckily, a ring of keys sits on a table near the front of the tent, and Owen snatches it, still moving as quietly as possible, putting his old military training to good use. It takes a few tries, but eventually he finds the right key for Ian's cage, and he opens the door for him. ]
You hurt at all?
[ ... Okay.
So. Clearly an intelligent creature, and he doubts InGen has worked their way up to cooking up something this self-aware that could learn speech. Something else, then.
... ... ... Okay.
He knows most of the cages back in the park were controlled by touch pads, usually warranting some sort of pass code. Owen's surprised when he finds this one is a simply lock and key affair; he guesses that this InGen operation is either a low budget affair, or else the disaster at the park had taken a huge toll.
Luckily, a ring of keys sits on a table near the front of the tent, and Owen snatches it, still moving as quietly as possible, putting his old military training to good use. It takes a few tries, but eventually he finds the right key for Ian's cage, and he opens the door for him. ]
You hurt at all?
[ Ian watches quietly as the man retrieves the keys. ]
Nothing that hasn't already healed. I am at a slight disadvantage without my glasses, however.
[ Honestly, he says it as much as a warning and as much to see what the reaction will be. ]
Nothing that hasn't already healed. I am at a slight disadvantage without my glasses, however.
[ Honestly, he says it as much as a warning and as much to see what the reaction will be. ]
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