logs:wreniel-04

Scene played out on 6th July 2012 with Wreniel.


«Scene Starts»

In the game, or so it seemed, logical and what was possible gave way to dramatics and 'Hollywood expectations' in many ways great and small.

Wreniel (it was so easy to think of herself using that name, even if she still was… someone else inside her head) pushed in amongst the trees, and lost sight of the beach behind her, was reminded of this once more as the humidity rose and the vines and vegitated impeded her.

While this was supposedly a tropical island she was finding that now the forest was closer to some B-movie director's idea of a 'lush forest' and thus close to that of a rainforest of some description as the trees towered far above her while all directions looked the same…

Her mood, having improved when a golden glow had surrounded her and sunk into her skin soon after the boar's ghost had vanished, was starting to become a little more wary as the inner glow, of a kind which made her smile and blush a little. If that was XP then it was easy to see how PCs kept adventuring.

The elfin marine bit her lip as she walked. That glowing feeling wasn't quite a *bad* thing but the fact that it felt so good made her feel nervous, jittery… both more eager to increase that sensation and desperate to avoid such - She was Jim. A computer geek who was experiencing a very unreal game situation. She (no, he?) couldn't forget that, no matter how good that flimsy undergarment felt brushing key areas, or the natural ease her toned form moved with. Her goal was to find the emergency flares, and hopefully get off this rock. She stopped for a moment on the trail to catch her breath, and then closed her eyes and tried to remember where she'd been and what landmarks she was using for where she was going. "Gotta be a map or something."

Ignoring the small 'bounce', which would have been an amusing thing in a game but was less so in person, she felt while walking along was harder now that she had decided on ignoring it than it had been before that particular thought had come up. It was actually harder to miss the way her body moved than before it came to mind.

Fortunately the jungle, for that was what it definitely was now, provided a growing number of distractions even as she felt a longing for cool salt spray or water sluicing over her body as she swam. Actually looking at her surroundings did reveal one thing though which was startling:

She had been sure that she had been following a path in the direction that the smoke had earlier been seen yet, when she looked forward or back, there was no sign of such at all!

"I'm not lost. Not lost. I'm on a path. It's either a game trail or a path cut by civilized folks. If I keep walking along it I'll get to where I need to be eventually." Okay, so she's started talking to herself - not a good sign. In a way she was thankful for the distraction from her oceanic daydream that had distracted her from her course. Cautiously, she continues onwards now, at least resolving for the moment to pay more attention to her surroundings… the last thing she needs is to get jumped by something big and nasty she can't handle.

Focusing on the path, on the idea that she was headed in this direction, caused something of an oddity. If she looked directly at the ground, ahead of her or behind her, then there was no path. Yet if she let her eyes stray around, noting small details such as a barer patch of ground or a broken twig, then she could almost see a path those details formed.

It was in that focused, yet not focused, state that she caught sight of a baleful crimson glow on the ground ahead of her which was also 'not there' when she looked direction at that spot.

Wreniel doesn't want to disrupt her near-Zenlike moment as she's managed to find the trail again… but that creepy red spot is unnerving her a bit. If it is a trigger point for something nasty, it's probably something bigger and more powerful than she is and they'd have the jump on her. She attempts to find some method to avoid the area on the path that held such foreboding danger, or failing that, a long enough pole or stick to shove into it to try and 'trigger' it without getting caught up in it herself.

It would be easy enough to bypass the crimson areas if need be, but a few nearby branches made it somewhat tempting to try the 'poke it with a stick' plan…

"What was it the pig said again? Death is an enlightening experience? Or that other saying, from that other game… 'No guts, no Galaxy'?" She grabs a stick and pokes at the baleful area. If it doesn't kill her outright, hopefully she can deal with whatever happens. Maybe she'll wake up in her computer chair back home!

A firm poke at the right patch in the red areas, after a few false starts, resulted in the stick suddenly being yanked out of her hand fast enough to sting as the trap went off. A noose seized it before somehow hauling it upwards. More ropes (and where had those come from?) somehow wrapped around the 'victim' and left Wreniel staring up at a rather… well secured stick just as a drum somewhere in the bushes was struck by some other mechanics to the sound of a loud beat.

The elf looked at the trap, and attempted to estimate a best guess (from her gut, whatever the game was telling her) where the drum sound was coming from, and how best to ambush the ambusher in a quick, clean, efficient fashion. She has no idea the strength of whatever it is she's about to go up against, so if she can have stealth on her side the better off she would be. Just like the Royal Marine Commando of Britain or U.S. Marine Recon…

The drum sounded several more beats from its place in the bushes before falling silent and left her trying to think of where to go and where attackers might come from. Unfortunate, given the lack of any obvious real trails, there were many directions which the attackers could come from… and that was assuing that they didn't 'spawn' here instead.

With a bit of disappointment Wreniel starts in the direction she thinks she needs to go in, watching for any other such situations, not only on the path but also on nearby trees and branches and the like. Her movement rate is cautious, quiet as she attempts to throw off anyone who came to check on the ambush and move along - counterambush plan was a *bust*. No, not that kind of bust! Dangit… now she's thinking about 'things' again…

Getting away from where the trap had been was easy enough, although at one point another crimson warning forced her to make a detour, and it wasn't long before she heard voices behind her. They were too far away for words to be made out, she could hear a voice sounding very amused and laughing before it cut off suddenly and angry voice snapped something.

Wreniel FREEZES when the angry voice snaps… that sounded like someone yelling 'SHUT UP'—don't need to know languages to pick up on the context. She's probably being followed by this point, so she attempts to quietly blend to the side of the path and seek either cover or a tree she could climb.

After having to struggle through the bushes early, it was different to have a reason to appreciate the ammount of them present in this jungle. Ducking beneath one, slipping under the broad leafed foliage, was mostly a matter of not breaking or bending any of the plant until out of sight. As she crouched in the darkness Wreniel could hear the voices again and this time they were closer.

She attempts to breathe slowly, shallowly, much like as if she were swimming.. not the clumsy gasps of breath but the careful fluid flow of a little breath in, then out. The less she sounded like she was breathing hard, the less chance of her trackers realizing she was here. She almost wishes she was out on the water right now… at least that'd be easier to deal with. If it sounds like they are practically on top of her position, she will attempt to hold her breath with whatever she's managed to take in until they pass, while resting a hand on her blade should it need to be pulled and used. She hasn't drawn it yet because mistakes and accidents could happen.

The slow breathing actually helped her, if nothing else to not panic but to remain calm, and some corner of her mind offered things to think on and little 'exercises' to help her stay unmoving. Yet she could hear the voices coming closer, getting clearer, and it was only the language barrier which prevented her from listening in on the conversation.

Then the natives stopped and, through the gaps in the leaves before her, she could glimpse the sun browned skin of the back of one natives legs as he stood there facing away from her. He was talking to the others, sounding vaguely irritated, and it was frustrating not to be able to understand him.

That little corner of her mind now has more of her attention, even as she attempts to get some sort of feeling for the nearing voices. Are they children, adults out hunting, or what? The tanned brown leg faced away from her was a good sign, and she made her level best effort to not move or otherwise give away her position. She internally curses the game developers for not having some sort of Babel Fish for the beginning player.

The native in front of her bush seemed a little impatient about something given his tone and how he was shifting from foot to foot. Wreniel could see the butt of a spear resting on the ground by one foot and, at a guess, she'd have to say that this one was a young adult male. Seeing the others wasn't an option unless she wished to push some leaves aside, but there were three other male voices and a single female voice.

One on one would be ideal. Two on one is a bit more difficult. Three on one is nigh impossible, and it just gets worse from there. Five would be right out. She holds tight for a little bit longer—if she does get found she will hopefully have at least one sympathetic ear among the party?

Breathing slowly and regularly Wreniel found her mind drifting into those exercises and she could almost see the colors that they 'encouraged' her to image in her mind. She was still aware of the ongoing conversation between the natives, could see the one in front of her, but it seemed that if she kept still…

"Congradulations!" A perky voice announced suddenly and ever so brightly, "You've found how to unlock the 'Like The Scenery' Mana Usage skill! Unfortunately your Stealth is insufficent to learn it so you're going to have to try again later now that you know the secret."

Yeah, that'd be enough to startle even the most trained professional… and our Marine is not by any stretch of the imagination fully a trained professional. Sure, her 'IC' half may be, but at least half of her mentality (if not more) is that of a gamer geek. "EEEEYAAAAHHHHH!!!" she bellows as she jumps up out of her hiding spot as if she had sat on a tack or a fire ant mound or the like. There's probably a moment or two where the 'people' and her are staring at each other…

The answering scream was manly, understandable, and quite deliberate… At least that is likely what the native who had been standing right in front of Wreniel's bush would likely explain later. What actually happened is that he screamed like a little girl, leapt away, dropped his spear, and almost headbutted a tree as she got away from the cry.

Unfortunately that left the elven marine facing a group of four on her own. The men and woman were as brown as the first had looked (from her view of his legs), and wore skirts of grass and leaves which protected at least some modestly. However the closest thing to a top that any wore was the pendant hanging between the breasts (and impossibly rounded they were) of the woman who was raising a spear…

Well, it was time for the fighty now, and not much she could do for it. Wreniel pulls her sword and yells at the woman—wearing a pendant and looking like the most capable combatant she had to be the first to go down. "Goongala Goongala!" Okay, so it probably didn't sound quite like that during Gilligan's Island shows but it'd do for a battle cry for now. Her target: Female 'leader' of the hunting party. Disarm (in either way) or outright defeat… though if it looks like the marine is handling the enemies she will offer quarter if she gets the upper hand.

"Speak Common, spirits damn it!" The woman responded, looking irritated at the cry and obviously too experienced to let someone confident enough to attack -barehanded- get too close to her, and the three men spread out as though trying to form a circle around Wreniel. Two were also beginning to spin the bolas which they held in their offhand while keeping their own spears ready.

"Woahhhh Woahhhh!" She holds up her hands in what she hopes will be accepted as a 'peaceful' gesture. She blinks a couple of times. "Peace…. Peace… I'm lost traveler in your lands and I apologize for trespass!" If this doesn't cause a change in attitude/attack stance she'll follow through on her assault.

The woman didn't change her stance, but neither did she make any further offensive moves and the sound of the whirling bolas continued without either of them being launched at the elf as yet. In a tense voice, her teeth bared in a primar action, the native leader said, "You're on -our- island… What are you doing here!?"

"I was lost at sea and followed a bird here." Best to keep the explanation simple for this situation, the fantastic would probably get her branded as insane and dangerous. She tries to keep her voice calming, soothing, imagining herself talking to a grunt or the like about the basic facts of life. "Thank you for letting me be on your island so far. I would like to leave it soon. Can you help?" She doesn't step back—that'd open herself up to further attacks.

The whirring sound of the bolas continued and there was the unnerving awareness that a man with a blowpipe was standing -right-0 behind her, but at least the woman seemed to be thinking over the request for now.

"Would you agree to be bound so we can take you back to the village for judgement on this?" She finally asked of Wreniel, looking over the elf concideringly.

Wreniel has clearly ceded the initiative to the locals, but she has been acting in what she hopes is an appropriate fashion. She understands that she may have put the apparent leader on the spot, but at the same time is ready to deal with that as things happen. She doesn't cower or show fear, but the idea of being at this mob's mercy… "It would make it difficult to walk back to your village if I was bound. I believe all should walk on the strength of their own two feet, make their way through the harsh jungles with their own two hands. It's not like I can run, it is your island, after all."

"But who knows how you got here?" The woman countered, her speech having a vague accent which was hard to place, "You could be a scout for a ship with a boat nearby."

An idea occurs to Wreniel as she's standing there. Earlier, she fought a pig and got meat off of it. Perhaps this is what she needs to negotiate? "I haven't lied to you. And believe me, if there were a ship nearby, I would have swum for it rather than invade your lands. May I make an offering to you to prove sincerity?"

"Of course." The woman said with a smile and gave an agreeable nod, green eyes on Wreniel's face, but something rang false in her tone to the marine. A literal chill, like the gliding passage of an icecube over her skin, could be felt before it settled upon her back.

Slowly, ever so slowly the marine attempted to bring up her inventory and then to pull out some of the meat for the woman. It was a rather large porcine, perhaps it was more meat than was on her bones? Or perhaps they would all start fighting each other over the meat and she could make a break for it? At any rate, she was pretty much committed at this point. First things first… meat to give to the woman.

The chill progressed from cold to almost glacial as Wreniel pulled out the meat and started to hold it out, but it was forewarning enough to alert her and let her hear the man behind her taking an extraordinarily deep breath…

ACTION TIME! Wreniel attempts to throw the meat at the woman as best she can then up and backwards over the head of the person with the blow-dart pointed at her back. If she can get behind him, she'll bring a two-handed swing down with her landing momentum to hopefully poleaxe him. If she can't do that, getting out of the effective fire arc of the dartgun would be key.

The meat flew forwards and despite the awkwardness of the projectile, it caused the woman to reflexively block the meat rather than do anything more offensive. As a delaying action it was acceptable and the leap backwards, rather than forwards to to the sides, seemed to have been just the right thing to do as she safe the bolas whirl through the space in front of her… right before she crashed into the man who had been behind her.

Crashing is good. Crashing she can bounce up off of and pull her blade from the scabbard and lay waste to those who are attacking her… with the Blowgun guy knocked down and disrupted her next target is going to be the witchy woman… with the bolas gone it will be a lot easier to get the jump on the spell-caster. There's no hesitation as the Marine gives herself over to well-honed combat skills, hoping that will be enough…

A shiver of heat passed over Wreniel's skin as she let herself bound off of the man, a quite crack signalling that the blowpipe he'd used had broken under the impact, and as she drew her sword odd thoughts started to intrude on her focus. Thoughts on how hot it was and wouldn't it be nice to strip off? On how she'd never seen the blueish tinge to the bark of that tree…

Her body twisted to the side and her Wavecutter came up in a simple motion which brought it down, quite viciously, on the arm of the man who had just tried to stick her with the spear. All sorts of innane thoughts were coming to mind and she felt herself -blush- as one stray turn of phrase, concerning the man's -other- spear, sent a thrill through her body and a surge of nausea to her throat.

Must not get sick. Must not. Will lose if I do. Beat them first then get sick and wow, that's how that works… with blood… oh, wow… ewwww gods can't… must focus… it must be the witch… finish them and get the witch… Purple… he'd look good with purple on… or nothing at all I wonder if he's married… Wreniel slashes hacks swipes chops mow mow mows she has to killthemallnownownow!

The sudden all out offensive seemed to thrown the group and, before they can react, one man is down from slash through the guts which put him on the ground immediately (and a small voice murmured that it's such a -shame- because how he fell pushed aside the grass 'skirt' he wore to reveal something quite nice…). That in itself made the man who had weilded the blowpipe freeze too long to realise that he was next and, with a swing and a backswing, Wreniel was left facing the woman and one man with a hurt arm (pretty blood…).

She doesn't understand why she's doing it as she lets her sword play continue but attempting a hand dip into the blood of the hurt man's arm (pretty pretty shiny blood!), getting the reddish fluids all over her hand then discarding the man like a used condom wrapper as the Marine advanced on the woman with a rather unhealthy gleam in her eye. (She's bigger than me. And bouncier. How dare she?) The thought turns her stomach a bit as she attempts to visit destruction upon the remainder of the party.

Without looking down, never looking away from her opponents, Wreniel distantly registered that she was bleeding a little. A swipe from a spear had obviously gotten too close during her reckless offensive and opened a wound on her side as its owner was trying to keep her -away- from him unsuccessfully. At the moment though the feeling it was giving was cold and tingly rather than -hurting- though and, frankly, her breasts itched too much to be bothered about such lesser details.

During her apparent distraction, despite an abortive cry from the woman, the last man had tried to attack and paid the price. It really was interesting to feel her body react on its own…

Wreniel closes on the woman now, with no interference, no one to stop her from claiming her victory or her prizes. (She's rather cute for a barbarian with next to no clothes on) The Marine shoved that idea out of her mind as she attempted to continue her whirlwind tour of death and destruction. The woman can't be trusted, she already tried freezing her! (Cold is nice in jungle though.)

As opposed to the men, the woman had some skill in the spear. To most she would have been a distinct challenge, but in Wreniel's odd state of mind this was actually almost fun. Sure a few knicks here and there might be suffers, more serious injury might be risked, but if you just twisted and swung it'd all work out fine. And the confining vegitation around them just help make it more like fighting on the confines of a ship or deck.

Somewhere in the time it took to come up with that analogy, the woman had suffered a few minor cuts and a major one on her arm which weakened her spearwork.

"If you give up and give me your pendant I'll let you live… and you can bring all their meat back to your village. You don't have to die here today." It's a fair offer given that the elf wants to eviscerate the woman for her efforts.

Breathing hard (And why is she doing that except to make Wreniel jealous about her 'talents'? It wasn't even an -hour- of fighting…) the woman seemed taken aback by the offer then, still keeping her spear level, reached up to pull the leather thong it hung on up over her neck. Her eyes were defiant even as she hung it on a branch and muttered unhappily, "It's yours then."

Wreniel nods and allows the woman to do what she needs to for the proper preparing of her ex-villagers now foodstuff (she presumes). As the woman is working on that, she will attempt to take the pendant and head on down the trail, attempting to put as much space between her and these savages as possible before getting violently ill.

Wreniel can almost feel the eyes on her back as she moved away. The eyes looking at her from everywhere. She was barely out of sight when the urge to run, to feel those eyes which still stared at her, welled up and fought for dominance with the need to stop and explore a body which ached and felt good in alien ways.

Distantly, she could undstand that she was poisoned but from the inside it was quite… disconcerting.

«Scene Fades»


Notes: And I actually clean this up entirely before posting. Perhaps this will set a precedent?