Log:Radical Creative Differences

The Madness of David Flyte 2020/03/19 Radical Grimm Cartesian|Randal

41

This twisted thing that may once have been a man advances upon Randal while stepping on broken glass. At Radical's challenge, it looks up at him. In the darkness just outside the house, at least three more shining eyes appear, bobbing slowly in the cold night.

Grimm is still disguised as the blonde party goer with the claw marks on her back. She gasps in shock to see Randal attacked. Dark energy wreaths her hands.

Radical teleporst to another spot to try to minimize the damage that might be done by the creature getting knocked backward...and hten he fires a singularity at it.

The Changed One falls on its back as its twisted legs fail to catch itself from the impact.

Grimm rushes to Randal's side and throws a hand up, trying to summon a dark wall of shadow to close off the broken doorway and windows to keep the other three out. But the one Radical blasted is still inside the house. "Randal, are you okay?!"

Randal nods, "I'm okay. A few bruises, I think."

The Changed One gets up back up to its feet. "Kkkrrrr...klk...you won't change the story," it warns and leaps at Radical, claws-first.

Outside, it's impossible to see what's going on behind that wall of inky darkness Grimm put up. But the sounds are getting closer, as well as scratching noises.

Radical isn't quite able to avoid the attack, and gets sliced through his protective clothing. "Ow. Son of a... ."

Shhrrriiip. The shadow barrier makes a sound like cloth tearing as clawed hands rip through it violently. Gabrielle gasps in surprise as they make it through so fast, then winces as Radical gets hurt.

Grimm hesitates and looks between the monsters, Radical, and Randal. She grabs ahold of Randal's shoulder. "I'm getting you out of here." She uses her shadow sight to feel for a safe room farther from the action and picks a room on the third floor, preferably in a bathroom, since those will have locks.

Grimm appears in a dark bathroom with Randal, who is now on his feet without the effort of standing. "Lock yourself in here until it's safe. Don't let them know you're here."

Radical backs up a couple of steps and tries to overload his bracers again, making hte singularity larger than it should be. Hopefully there are no consequences for that.

The first on Radical hit before is knocked back into the doorframe and slumps down with a gurgle. The other two are pushed back out the breach in the barrier and sprawl onto the patio outside, disoriented from the force of the blast.

The Changed shake off the intensity of the blast, heads turning back towards Radical with snarls. Then they stop and look back. Heavy, plodding footsteps approach as the light from within is cast upon the Editor...

The Editor stands 5'8" tall with an unruly mop of malachite-colored hair that gleams in the light with eerie, darkened rainbow streaks. Looking into the tangled mass of hair is like looking into an oil slick boiling atop a sailor's grave in the tropical sun. Ruddy red-blue bug eyes leer at the world from beneath both a narrow brow and cracked, mirrored pince-nez spectacles. A crooked nose with multiple bent peaks leads down toward the walrus-bristle mustache crowning his thick, white-pink lips that barely contain cracked, mirrored yellow teeth.

A triple chin layers over an impossibly thickly muscled neck. It's more like a rooster's wattle than anything human. His pale mauve dress shirt's collar is wilted and lank over his broad, bulging shoulders. Dark wool is coarsely knotted into a vest that covers the majority of its bloated, unnaturally corpulent torso, also concealing the further degradation of his dress shirt.

Ichorous green sludge flows out of the cuffs of his sleeves, dripping from gaunt fingers tipped with golden talons. Each hand is massive, large enough to palm a basketball. Whenever one looks, however, there seems to be a different number of hands.

Black slacks have exploded into tatters, wholly inadequate for containing the swarming, roiling mass of slimy, sludge-drenched vines. Leathery loafers cap dozens of those vine-like tendrils that drag its biology-defying anatomy forward. Every few dozen feet, the clatter of hooves against the ground replaces the clack of shoes-on-floor.

The worst part, of course, is the moist, fatty slap of meat-on-meat violence. It echoes wetly inside of one's mind long after you've left ear shot.

"We can't have random disappointed fans try to rewrite the ending. That would be chaos," he harumphs at Radical as he stands in the doorway, then lurches towards him as he brandishes his golden claws to slice at him.

Radical manages to avoid the slash of the claw, ducking underneath it. "Well, if you know anything about me, you know I'm not exactly a fan of Chaos."

Randal says to Grimm, "Go...help Connor. I think he's going to need a hand. He's not really a fighter."

The Editor smiles, showing his yellowed misaligned teeth. "Good! Good. Then you'll kindly die and let the story play out. I'm glad we are...in agreement. Now stand still!"

Gabrielle looks conflicted leaving Randal there, forgetting she looks like some blonde stranger, though Randal's smart enough to piece together who she is. Probably as soon as she put up that dark wall. She vanishes and reappears in a swirl of black and a wave of whispers by Radical's side. It takes her just a moment to take in the horror of the Editor and raises her hand, firing off a dark blast of energy at him.

The editor's stomach jiggles and he's ummoved by the blast due to his dense body.

The Editor laughs at Grimm's attack. "Another interloper aiding you?" he asks Radical. "I'm afraid we're going to have to write both of you out of the story for narrative flow."

Radical keeps his eyes focused on the Editor. "LEt's see just how tough you are." He makes a quick adjustment of his bracers and fires again, but the blast is modulated differently.

Lucky strike! The adjustment to Radical's gear seems to have been very effective. The Editor is blasted back into one of the Changed who is still on the ground, bowling through it and rolling out onto the back lawn for several meters. The Changed that was struck is flattened out on the ground and doesn't move.

Randal looks around upstairs for somehitng he can use as a weapon. One of the daggers taken from a cultist years ago? That'll work.

The Changed rises up to its feet and charges at Radical, it's jaw unhinging like a snakes as its sharp teeth grow larger. He tries to snap down on Radical's neck.

The Editor rolls about, recovering from the dizzying attack.

Radical manages to sidestep and deflect the creature's attack wide. "You'd think I'd be used to crazy shapechanging things by now. I'm not."

Randal doesn't blockade himself in. Isntead he heads to the top of hte stairs to listen carefully.

"Yeah. Just when I thought I was used to all the freaky stuff, I discover a new nightmare," Gabrielle comments as she tries to blast the Changed One away from Radical.

The Changed One is knocked away from Radical, slamming into the wall and sliding down into an unconscious heap. Some of the drywall may be damaged, but nothing structural. Gabrielle winces. "I'll...I'll fix that," she murmurs.

The Editor rises up to his feet. "No respect for creative vision!" he bristles.

"It doesn't matter. If you don't end him, I'll write him out in a new chapter. The Master has shown me..." a familiar voice wafts from the darkness beyond the Editor and beyond the cast light from Randal's home.

"O-of course!" The Editor stammers and starts waddling his way back towards the house. He gets close to the doors before stopping and making an unsavory sound of bubbling before leaning back and then thrusting forward, spitting up a black glob of substance towards Radical.

Radical manages to dodge the noxious tar-like material. "Is Flyte actually here? Because I will pound the tar out of him."

"I sense someone. And something," Gabrielle comments, nodding towards the darkness beyond the illumination of the house.

Something steps out into the light. The human form is a strange thing. Yet there are limits to what a human may consider to be human in form. Pale blonde hair is swept neatly backward over his head, leaving bare a broad forehead with a pronounced brow ridge. Patches of gray have infiltrated his blonde hair, particularly at his sideburns and the sides of his gaunt head. Wisps of blonde and gray seem to float about his head, unfettered by gravity or reality, not quite tethered to him and yet not truly unbound from his form either. Deep ochre orbs fill his eye sockets, keenly aware of his surroundings and unimpeded by his hawkish nose. Shadows streak his features regardless of the light, giving him an almost engraved cast to his tight, gaunt features and pale flesh. Perfect teeth fill his mouth when it opens, his smile seeming almost to come in waves of pearly white. A long neck disappears into the high collar of his dress shirt, cinched impossibly tight by a crimson Windsor knot. From Windsor knot, the crimson necktie descends his long, narrow torso like a single streak of blood that stops where his navel should be. Who knows what lurks under the faintly shimmering obsidian fabric of his dress shirt. Neatly fitted and crisply pressed, the shirt is clearly intended to dazzle as though one could stare into the abyss itself if one wanted to stare into the slender night that is his torso. Long arms descend from narrow shoulders, a pair of crimson suspenders hooked over those shoulders. Whether to ensure that his shoulders get no further from his waist or to keep his pants aloft is difficult to determine. Pale hands with slender, impossibly long fingers emerge from his sleeves. Midnight blue slacks sheathe his lower body. If one looks close, one could almost swear they could see the stars of a ruined universe glittering in the stygian shadows of his crisply pressed slacks' folds. Each step with those slacks seems to take an eternity, the sound of fabric straining against starch in the silence that pervades the air around him, scratching and cracking in the observers ears with every impossible stride. If ever you see his footwear, please be certain to take notes. Not even David has seen his feet through the perpetual shadow that swirls below the cuffs of his pant legs. "Still think you've seen the future, you meddlesome gnat?"

David motions to his side and behind, towards the shadows. "The Master has granted me further clarity. You're about to be swept from the board," he annonces as something starts to ripple. Like reality itself is buckling as something passes through it. An oozing horror with slimy, membranous wings and several tendrils, resembling a squid. It's black, streaked with putrid yellow, green, and brown. There is a single twin-pupiled eye on its bulbous head.

Grimm twitches and grits her teeth. "That's not happening, you sick b******," she threatens, holding out a hand towards Flyte and sending out a blast of dark energy.

Flyte turns his slender, tall body sideways to avoid the blast. "Yes, yes. Keep trying."

Radical doesn't say antyhing. Instead he just teleports outside to get a clearer shot at Flyte, trying to end up surprising the cultist by attacking from his side.

David hisses painfully as he's shot in the side and sent bouncing along the lawn and into the darkness, where he lands.

Flyte stands up and dusts off his suit. "My Master has made me something so beyond your kind. Such that you aren't worth my time. Once you're out of the picture, all will resume as I was shown," his voice seems to fade in the darkness.

Flyte seems to ripple reality around him and teleports away.

Radical says, "Flyte just teleported away."

Grimm feels Flyte disappear in the darkness and stretches out her senses. "Shick. He's...he's gone. I can't sense him anywhere nearby." She looks to the Editor and frowns angrily. She draws back her hand, fingers splayed as shadow overlays her hand. She looks like she is about to slash at him in frustration, but instead turns towards the tentacled creature and brings her hand down. Shadowy claws stretch out from her briefly to slash at the monster Flyte summoned.

Squeeaaaak! It sounds like someone rubbing at a rubber balloon. It doesn't penetrate the slimy hide.

Radical teleports again to improve his angle on the Editor,a nd he opens fire once more. This time with the more focused singularity.

The rotund Editor is able to spin away with unnatural speed, but it is a graceless looking maneuver.

The Editor, now closer to disguised Gabrielle, smiles unnervingly and waddles her way, reaching out towards her.

His clawed hands close around Gabrielle's neck with surprising speed. Gabrielle gasps, but her breath is cut off. "Now, your little sidekick has been quite the pain." The Editor squeezes her neck and holds her up as a human shield between him and Radical. Gabrielle cringes and kicks a few times, though she starts to feel dizzy from the lack of air.

The Squrm moves in crooked lines, looping and twitching, twirling oddly, as it makes its way closer to Radical. Its tentacles wave in complex designs, summoning a web of force to try an encase Radical.

Radical has to get Grimm free. But with her held as a shield, he'll have to be sneaky. He creates a point-to-point portal and fires at the Editor from point blank range...from the side of his target. His hand goes through the portal, and then releases the singularity.

The Editor is surprised and blasted sideways, sending him and Grimm tumbling. He manages to keep his grip on her neck. Grimm is a little shook from the fall, but not worse off than she already was.

Randal wants to be helpful, but he's unsure how to go about it. He makes his way down the stairs cautiously.

"Who? Another of your allies!?" the Editor spits as he rises to his feet and lifts Grimm, this time to use her to protect against what he believes is a new foe. He brandishes his claws. "Well, I'll even the odds. You're about to be down one supporting character, and then it's on to you," he chortles at Radical as he brandishes his claws and slices towards Gabrielle's back.

Radical says sternly, "You NEED her alive for your goals. You just failed."

"Aaauugghhh!" Gabrielle cries out as The Editor's claws slash through her midsection to create a bloody mess. "W-what? What do I need HER for?" the Editor suspects a trick.

Radical shakes his head, "That is Gabrielle Grimm. You just failed. Your master will be very, very, unhappy."

The Squrm loops and zig zags towards Radical, unable to move in straight lines as several tendrils try to reach out and grab Radical. And then they halt at Radical's revelation. The creature freezes a moment, twitching in place, its singular eye rolling back in the Editor's direction.

Gabrielle weakly dangles from the Editor's grip on her neck, her feet a few inches off the ground. She feels wet warmth and pain all across her abdomen as she's stuck facing the Editor, unable to turn her head to look down. Her hands feebly clutch at the Editor's wrist as her disguise melts away to reveal her true self. She gives a final sigh and goes limp, eyes half closed and staring off as blood trickles down on the lawn.

Radical shrugs, "And...that means what I foresaw...does come to pass. Sorry, Flyte. Where ever you are."

Radical is still hoping that she's alive. But..he's trying to play up taht she might be dead.

The Editor shrieks in horror. "No! No, what plot twist is this!? Master, forgive me!!!" he howls as he sets Gabrielle down reverently on the grass.

The Squrm is intelligent enough to understand what happened. Its singular eye fixes on the Editor and it changes directions, flying towards him. Its legs spread out to reveal a screeching beak within.

The Editor cowers and flails, ducking just beneath the Squrm's chomping maw. "How was I to know!?" he wails pitifully.

Radical teleports to Grimm's side, crouches...and places a hand on her...and then teleports again, back inside the house, as far as he can get, "Randal! Where are you?! Need your help!"

From outside, The Editor's voice can be heard shrieking as it sounds like it's moving away. "No! No! Mercyyyyy!"

Randal scrambles to get some medical supplies from the bathroom on the ground floor.

There's a terrible high pitched scream from the Editor that gets reduced to a distance gurgle.

Grimm drops the illusion and closes her eyes, coughing as she half curls up on the ground. She's hurt bad and bleeding heavily, but she's not dead yet.

Radical is wounded as well, but not as badly as Grimm. He takes a look at the wounds and tries to treat them.

Grimm grits her teeth as Radical tries to apply pressure using whatever's on hand along with her torn shirt. She writhes a little from the pain, but is trying her best to stay still. After some quick work Radical is certain he's staunched the bleeding, for now at least.

There are no further sounds from the Editor from outside.

Radical is working on treating Grimm's wound when Randal gets back with the medical supplies. He looks up at his uncle, "I think I might have the most of hte bleeding stopped. I need to check outside to make sure hte danger has passed."

Grimm coughs, sweat having broken out across her brow. "S-sorry," she tries to utter to Randal.

Randal shakes his head, "Shush, you. You'll be okay. No need to apologize."

"I..huh...m-meant for...getting you involved," Gabrielle wheezes.

Outside, Radical can hear the odd flapping and squishy noises of the Squrm...and then a SHLUUUP sound that is somewhat reminiscent of the sound it made when it manifested. No more sounds after that.

Radical nods. "Let me check outside quickly. I also need to heal the changed folks. Worst case, I'll get us all to the sanctum." He teleports close to the door where the fight happened to look around...and if he doesn't see any hostiles, he starts to heal those that were knocked out.

No hostiles are left that he can see. The Editor is laying on his back, gored by the Squrm. It's dark and hard to tell much of the details.

Radical goes ahead and heasl teh changed first, since they're more likely to get up. Then he heads ot the editor...and tries the same.

The first Changed one turns into a man with salt and pepper hair, clothes torn, but he's alright. The Editor changes into a much more mundane and tame version of himself. His hair turns back to its original black, and he's much less dense than before. Rather ordinary, really. He's alive but seriously injured and in need of medical attention.

Radical does try to treat the wounds of the Editor as well. It might be against his better judgement, but it needs to be done.

The Editor's wounds are staunched, sparing his life. He remains unconscious.

Radical scans the area, using his magical and dimensional sight, just to confirm that the tentacle creature is actually gone.

No trace of it on this plane. But seeing through the veil of dimensions, Radical can see it in a dismal plane, flying off and away to join a swarm of its kind as it swoops away. They move like a murmuration, some sort of bizarre geometry to their movement patterns.

Radical nods to himself, satisfied. He gathers up the attackers into a grouping outside of the house, and then he steps inside to check on Grimm's status. "Gabrielle, how are you holding up?"

Grimm's since closed her eyes to rest, helping hold the makeshift bandages in place. Some of which have been replaced with real bandaging from Randal. "Still alive," she croaks out as she opens her eyes, trying to smirk. She coughs and the smirk fades away quickly.

Grimm lets out a rattling sigh. "Is this...really what you saw...?"

Radical snorts, "No. No, it isn't. I was lying out there. I was praying he'd give up."

Radical says, "The demon's gone. I transformed the cultists back. Including hte big guy."

"F-figured. So I played along. Sounds like it worked." Gabrielle takes a few labored breaths and turns her head enough to look up at Radical. Pain crosses her features from the effort. "Are they alright?"

Radical taps his nose, "Remember...I told you how I saw you die. Charity. But that didn't happen." He nods, "They seem to be okay. Even the big guy. He's badly wounded, and needs medical attention, but he'll be okay, too."

Grimm nods weakly, then looks to Randal. "Are you okay? I-I didn't mean for this to happen to you. To your place," she apologizes. Getting blood all over the floor. How rude!

Randal smiles. "I'm fine. Besides, I suspect this would be Connor's fault, not yours." He glances up at Connor, with that smile still on his face, and then he returns his gaze to her. "You're family now. Remember that."

Grimm smiles weakly and manages a brief chuckle, winces a little. But the smile stays in place. "Thanks. I will. I think...I think I'm just gonna rest for a while," she says tiredly, closing her eyes.

Radical nods to Randal, "Call for the police and ambulance. We'll get this sorted, and we need medical attention. They'll be quicker than my teleportation."

There's a text alert sound on Radical's phone.

Radical sighs a bit, but checks his phone.

It's a message from Mari. <>

Radical breathes a sigh of relief. He texts back, << Yeah, I'm okay. Got lost in the confusion. Are you okay? >>

Radical adds, << A minor injury, though. I got cut pretty badly. I'm getting it check out now. >>

There's a quick reply from Mari. << Oh no! Definitely get that taken care of. I'm okay. That was nuts, though! OMG! Deanna's pretty shook. I'm taking her home. I'll check in on you tomorrow. >>

Radical texts back, << Be safe. Talk to you tomorrow. >>

Mari's final message says: << I will. Same to you. >>

Radical thinks about it. "How did they know to come here?"

Randal has finished calling the emergency line, and comes back in, "I'm not sure. Scrying? Being told by that elder god watching Gabrielle?"

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