Krampus My Style

December 09, 2015:

The Krampus runs afoul of the Titans and Wolfsbane, who have very different ideas on how to deal with someone who is being naughty.

New York

Characters

NPCs: The Krampus

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Ah, the holidays. And the grinches. Today, the Titans are here in town (some of them anyway) because there's been a mysterious rash of disappearing packages from the locked trunks of cars, even though the owners of said cars are not being particularly bad about them — they don't flaunt or anything. The packages just disappear leaving behind a sour, somewhat fusty smell, with peppermint overtones.

So Gar Logan is a carriage horse today. And Keef (Vorpal) O'Neal is a carriage driver. Because that lets them move around where the thefts have been, and possible spot anything untoward. Oh yeah, they have made twenty bucks so far in a half hour but they're not really TRYING to get customers… It's just the Christmas Colored Horse with the red tack.


A mysterious rash of disappearing packages is bad- even worse than ordinary mysterious rashes, for which you are usually required to consult a dermatologist. But with packages, that's someone's stuff just up and vanishing… and that's not cool, you know?

"I always figured I was the one with the reins in this relationship," the redhead quips with a smirk. "Where do you get your ideas for disguises, Mister Ed? Scooby Doo?"

Not that he disliked Scooby Doo. It was a very good show to teach kids about the fine art of detection and, if one was paying attention, concealing drug use.


Bunker is working the high ground, in costume, flying above the streets on a platform of purple psionic bricks. So few people in New York look UP, except for tourists. He's surveying the street and watching the various cars come and go. "No signs of entry, and, really, peppermint? Who /does/ that?" he says into the discreet mic in his cowl/mask.


Wolfsbane is unaware of anything related to missing gifts, and that may be strange considering her 'base of operations' is now the city itself. Then again, there's a lot that happens in big cities, especially New York City. The weather has been abnormally warm, though even if it wasn't she'd be comfortable enough the way she is.

Passing through, she's stopped to have a look at the architecture of the Chrysler Building, but the sound of jingling bells draws her attention to one side. Whether they're part of the green horse's tack or something else, that sight stands out to her and a brow slides upward. "A green horse..? I think I've seen it all noo."


Neither Mr. Ed nor the actual Horse of a Different Color (because he's only green and not a different color every time you look) the green carriage horse is not going to blow his cover by making overt talking noises. So he mutters into the microphone on his bridle instead.

"I smell cheese and peppermint up ahead. Watch out!"

He doesn't torment the redhead for being a jerk… but he does jolt ahead, swerving in traffic a bit then balking next to a Cadillac — an older, over-capacious one with a big fat trunk. There are thumping noises coming from the trunk, and anyone within three feet can smell what smells like a ripe goat cheese mixed with two bottles of peppermint schnapps.

Of course, car horns sound. This is New York after all.


Keith gahs and holds on as the horse swerves. "Jerk!" he smirks, but he stops when he hears Gar's admonitions. He sniffs. Then he sniffs again. Third time.

"Bunker… think you could arrange a little flat tire for that 'dillac?" he mutters into the com that is disguised by his jaunty Santa hat.


Bunker nods as he taps his com and concentrates, forming as small a 'brick' as he can, and then 'shooting' it at the tire. Despite it's shape, the speed and size should do the trick. Of course, he's never done this fine a work before…


Now the horse and carriage are approaching Wolfsbane's location, the wolfen woman continuing to openly stare. Is it her, or does the horse have a microphone and does it look like he's speaking? There's too much noise around to hear the words, but she's left to squint at this sight, peering toward the driver of the carriage afterward. "I think I need tae have muh eyes checked."

However, the Cadillac soon becomes an obvious source of interest as it's chased after, and something flying toward the car from above draws a glance toward the motion she spots. The breeze carries that cheesy peppermint 'aroma' her way, causing her nose to wrinkle. The whole thing qualifying as odd, she begins to advance.


PAF! Bunker uses Brick! It's super effective! The tire fails its save! It goes flat! The owner (attending an early Holiday Party in a nearby apartment) will be upset, but that's for later. Right now, the trunk stops thumping and something unlatches the lid from the inside. It opens very slightly and a cautious eye peers out toward the street, apparently seeing only the carriage and smelling the … HORSE! ONOES!

The lid flies open, and a very hairy, very naked, except for being covered in thick black fur enough to cover three Armenian men, male goat-like hominin leaps out and lands on goatish feet, the bells chained to his body jingling. He has a bag on his back, filled with crushed gifts. No children yet. (It's not QUITE Christmas after all.)

Of course he lands near Wolfsbane. AGH! WOLF! (By the way, he REEKS. Add old locker room sweat and moldy tangerines to the other smells. Then let it concentrate. The horse is coughing.)


Bunker's mouth drops open. "No way!" he yelps into the mic, as he sees the small… elf-thing. "Madre! I can smell if from up here!" he coughs, even as he drops lower on his platform, forming up bricks around himself in mid-air. Several of them swarm down to attempt to form a loose cage around the creature as he clammers out. "He has a lookout, too! Some kind of werewolf?" the masked teen chirps into the mic.


Keith just stares/. His eyes are watering, by the way. "… what on earth is that? And why does it smell like Al Capone's sock drawer?"

He grabs his hat and covers his nose with it- that smell is offensive. Like Pootie Tang offensive.


"Oh, God.." Rahne blurts, and it must be something for her to put it that way. It must be a foul stench indeed if she's covering the lower half of her face moments after she's spotted the very strange..thing..that pops out of the car. She takes a half-step back and those wolfen features even start to fade, possibly a way for her to counter the odor assaulting her senses. "Whit are ye? An' whit's all this about?!" No, she's probably not in cahoots with the thing. Wait. Did that horse just cough?


Not only did the horse just cough, but it … turned into something else for a moment, and now the carriage is sitting there horselessly, as a green rooster attacks the stinky thing. Oh, and it's making that noise roosters make. 'Crowing,' yes, that's the word.

Which, oddly, seems to be causing the goaty-aromaed creature physical pain. He reaches into the sack on his back and yanks out … a handful of peppermint candy canes. It flings three at Bunker with deadly accuracy (dodge, shield, or take a candy-crush attack to 'front and center'.) It flails with the others, and sneezes, and a splash of peppermint-cheeze-smelling liquid is flung around towards Wolfsbane and possibly the man hiding behind the hat.


"Oh GROSS!" Keith says, jumping out of the cart as the unidentified stuff is flung his way. He lands on the roof of a nearby car, which causes people to swear at him until they see the Krampus…

"…ow…" Keith grumbles and rolls off, ducking off the side of the car to reach for his mirror—

His mirror… where the hell WAS his mirror? "Shit!"


Bunker is still agape at actually seeing… shit, that's NOT a costume. He flings up a brick that blocks a cnady-cane, another, and then CRACK, one hits him dead-center in the chest and he's knocked off his platform to fall… into the back of the carriage, leaving him stunned for a moment as he tries to right himself. His half-formed brick-priosn of course melts away as he stops concentrating on it.


Wolfsbane utters a short and nearly silent prayer before she growls. "Away wi' ye, foul demon!" Whatever it is, that's sure what it looks like to her, and after coming across another one only days before, this one seems much worse in comparison. As it spews something her way, she shows off quick reactions and speed by ducking behind another car.

The green rooster registers, the horse no longer there, and Rahne works out the basic math related to that (even if it's secondary to the matter at hand). When the beastie is occupied with Garooster, she leaps into action. As she passes by, the sharp claws on one hand rake across the back of the thing. The stench. Oh, the stench.


The prayer and imprecation are as effective as the rooster-crowing at making yon hairy goatstard scream and leap about. He howls, dropping his bag of ill-gotten (crushed) loot and tries desperately to escape. There is, along one gutter, a storm sewer, out of which one might sometimes see a giant white city-rat (sometimes riding an alligator) peeking on its rounds as it reports to the Rat King. Tonight, rat-free, the hairy stenchmonger attempts to get into it. And (disgustingly) he seems to be succeeding, sort of. It'll take more than one or two moments for him to flatten himself enough to fit down there. But his head is clearly already flat enough, even though that causes the foot-and-a-half of tongue to protrude from his face in an alarmingly KISS way.

The rooster, not content, is pecking at the beast and crowing more. But not stabbing with the spikes on his legs, because honestly? Who wants to actually make the hairy monster bleed? Can you imagine the reek?


Screw portable mirrors (he totally left it in the Smrt Cr), Keith looks into the side mirror of a car and, a second later, has transformed into his purple self. Once all cheshired up, he leaps up onto the cart and kneels, "Bunky, are you okay?" he says, trying to assist his friend up.

It's because he is concerned about Bunker. Totally NOT because he doesn't want to establish physical contact with the Krampus and because he thinks Gar has to do it—

"… wolf lady, are you with us?" he calls out. He didn't see her trying to help the Krampus, so maybe Bunker's original assessment was wrong?


Bunker groans as he levers himself out of the carriage back, stands up unsteadily with the help of Keith. "I'm fine, I think.." he groans, and then sees the creature trying to escape. "Not today!" he grimaces as he throws up his arms - apparently more than his pride has been brusied - and tries to form bricks inside the sewer to push the scrabbling little creature back out into the light.


Immediately after landing in her passing attack of the Krampus, Wolfsbane's face twists into a mask of disgust and she shakeshakeshakes that hand. She made it bleed, and the stench may be even worse. Looking back at the scene, she barely manages to avoid retching on the spot, wiping her hand off to the best of her ability on whatever's closest to her.

In the process, she turns back to get a better look at the now-Vorpal and Bunker, blurting, "O' course I'm wi' ye! Stop tha' thing!" Fortunately, Gar and Bunker are working on that part.


Up until now the thing has been disturbingly silent, except for the hisses and teapot shrieks of pain when gouged by a Werewolf. At this point though, not unlike a skunk when trapped and threatend, he turns towards Bunker (and the rented carriage) and begins cursing in a guttural language filled with bleats and gagging noises. The air starts turning purple and he flails at the rooster, slapping the green bird out into the street then cursing as if the act burned his hands. (It did.) (The slices on his back are also smoking.) (Word(s) to the Cait Sith: it speaks perfect Orcish.)

The cursing increases, and the purple fog thickens, as does the stench as the spray from the curses and the flailing tongue begins to hit the carriage. Now the expensive black finish is literally rotting through and corroding.

In the street, the rooster avoids being run over twice, turning into a turtle to avoid being crushed and then growing into a LARGE turtle (car-sized). That gets more honking started.

"Leave me GO ye filthy plague-taken palatinin!! I just want to leave!" it finally says, then spits again at the carriage, hitting the axle of the front wheel. Which starts smoking.


"Oh, no you won't! Not without returning what you've stolen!" A vorpal sword appears in the cheshire's hands and he begins to swing it, aiming for that vicious tongue.

"Don't tempt me, I'm feeling playful," the cat who is in part the Cait Sidhe says, "And I won't be responsiblefor what happens when I really start having fun!"


Bunker's eyes are watering now with the stench, and he dearly wishes he had a Spider-Man-like mask that could at least help filter out some of the amazing stink that's surrounding him now. He's also noticed what happens when Gar strikes the thing, and that it's recoiled from the wofl-girls prayers. So he tries this: His bricks swirl around the thing, and then form crucifexes around it, hopefully close enough that it can't get away without looking at or touching one. The cloud of curse-smoke is making it difficult to concentrate, though…


Wolfsbane is most definitely backing away at the purple haze that begins to form. She keeps herself as far from whatever it's spitting at them as she can, but the smells are just getting progressively worse. Something tells her she wouldn't want to be 'touched' by that fog, either. In fact, it really is enough to see her drop all signs of the wolf, a visible and fast transformation following that leaves her looking completely human, all the way down to pale skin on the Scotswoman.

As chaotic as things are getting with the horse-to-rooster-to-turtle (at least they're often green) and Vorpal trying to go Highlander on everything, she cants her head to one side at the bricks taking shape around the Krampus, and the pattern noticed. It leads to her trying something again. "I said away wi' ye, demon! In th' Lord's name, get yuirself back tae th' foul pit o' hell ye spawned from, an' stay there! Ye dinna belong in this world!" There's a definite twinge of fear behind the words at first, but her conviction grows stronger by the end.


Bunker has enough belief behind his crucifixenwald to at least cause the beast to recoil, and recoil he does, then flinches away from what's behind, and eventually hunches over with hands over his head. The tongue flicks a quick venomous splot at the vicious cat.

"Not a thing can I return, presents to wicked children I burn," the Krampus says sulkily. "Ashes all that they deserve, for their yulenacht I preserve."

The turtle finally makes his way over, turning Ninja-turtle in the process. Yes, he's wearing a red headband-mask. You gonna make something of it?

"How do you figure those kids deserve to have their Hannukah presents burned?" the green ninja turtle says, pointing to the star-of-david air freshener in the car. The Krampus flushes red, all over. Oops.

And then, from the wolf-girl, an actual exorcism! Well, that's just fine! A krampus (especially a guilty one who didn't bother to check) doesn't have to put up with this! Besides, they won't let him escape to the sewers.

Unfortunately, in being sent back to hell, the demon's manifestation reverts. Ectoplasm explodes like a tidal wave of gooey clotted-up snotty stench. Eveywhere.

What's left behind is still somewhat goatish, but in a less holiday-festive form. You remember Mr. Tumnus? Well, this is one of his cousins. Unconscious. On the ground.


Bunker nods at Wolfsbane, the cowled teenager throwing her a quick fierce smile at her commands to the thing, and throws in a little of his own: "Padre nuestro que ests en los cielos, Santificado sea tu Nombre Venga tu reino…." he begins to intone.

Then as the thing evaporates, he's splattered with KrampusGoo, and he just stammers. "Aww.. snap.."


Surprisingly enough, the combination of things actually works and yon beastie is no more. It leaves something else behind, namely the fawn-like being, but in addition to that Rahne finally does get splattered by the disgusting gunk. "Och, I've been slimed.." She shivers at the whole thing, scarcely acknowledging anything else for the first few seconds, which includes Ninja Turtle Gar. "I'm gaunae need tae replace this," she murmurs, picking at her costume. Another round of shakeshakeshake of the limbs, and she's not even fuzzy right now.


Gar-fael pulls his head in tight before the Kramusplosion, but still gets a full-body splash. Not unlike Bunker. And Vorpal, well. He's fast to throw up a rabbit hole… but the ectoplasm doesn't seem to care about that; it goes through the area with the displacement as if the spatiotemporal infundibulum was not even there, splashing head to foot. It also coats the crucifix wall. In fact the only thing within 20 feet that isn't covered in the smelly (but already evaporating) goop is the faun in the middle of the area-of-event.

"I need a moist towelette," Gar says plaintively.


Bunker is just.. agast, without any immediate danger about. He clambers off the carriage, careful not to slip and break his head open. The ectoplasm vaporizes off random parts of his costume, leaving it with a weird feeling even after it's gone. He walks over to make sure Wolfsbane is OK, then looks to the giant turtle. "What.. is that?" he says, pointing to the faun. He takes several steps towards it, looking at Gar to see what his ideas might be.


Wolfsbane just looks miserable. Fortunately her sense of smell is only just a normal human's right now, which is a small consolation. "Does..anyone want tae tell me whit tha' was all about, an'…aye, whit he said." She nods to Bunker's question about what's left behind, her voice on the quiet side. Might be she's trying to process the whole thing and make sense of it all.


Vorpal practically vibrates in place in rage and shock.

*_* LET ME DO IT *_* one of his inside-voices says, and there's a plish-blorp as a construct shell pushes out from his skin along EVERY hair and every fiber of his uniform, squeegeeing the ectopasm off of him and out onto the ground.

The best thing about ectoplasm, it doesn't REALLY leave traces behind, but you think it has. The stuff is evaporating quite rapidly now. Gar can even open his eyes.

"What are you… Oh. Huh. Soirée d'un faune," he says, looking over at the unconscious figure on the ground. "I guess the Krampus just possessed that guy. Wonder if he started out as a goatboy or if this is just the K kidding around?"

Meanwhile, the gunk on the carriage has pretty-well wrecked the finish. A phone rings.

"Huh?" Gar says. "Oh. Yeah, this is he. Yes? Your carriage? Oh. Right. Blocking traffic. We'll have to bring it in anyway. Someone exploded on it."

There is incomprehensible cursing over the phone and Gar-Turtle shrugs at the other two.

"Thanks for your help. We're the Titans, well, part of them. I'm Gar, aka Changeling. Purple hissy fit is my Vorpal Cat."

Bunker can introduce himself.


Bunker holds out a now-clean gloved hand. "Bunker," he says by way of explanation and introductions. "Good job, there," he says with a smile. "Ir con Cristo", he says, Go With Christ.


Wolfsbane manages to get most of what splattered her wiped away so it's not quite as bad, but she's eyeing the unconscious guy over by the storm drain. "Whit are we tae do about him?" she wonders, and she hazards the chance to let a little fur show up again, catching a whiff of what's left behind. Deciding it's not quite as bad, she moves on to the introductions.

"Vorpal? I think I saw him once before, but I'm no' familiar with either o' ye. I'm Wolfsbane, o' th' X-Men. X-Red, specifically." The wolfen woman accepts Bunker's hand and offers them a small smile. "I suppose I'd better go find oot whit a Krampus is. Tha' was a nightmare." So is the carriage situation for that matter.


"Demon," Bunker says simply. "Now this guy, though.." he says, turning to the small form. He forms up a thin sheet of bricks and slides it under the still form if he can, to get him up off the ice-cold pavement. His own breath comes in plumes. "Poor guy. Are you sure it's not the, what, Krampus?" he says to Gar as he manipulates the thin field, raising the unconscious form up off the ground.


"Well, we'll probably end up dropping him off somewhere that can handle him, but meanwhile, I need to get the carriage back, yeah. Bunker, could you and Vorp please move Mr. Caprini into the carriage? I need to get into the traces again so we can move it before we get ticketed. Thanks for your help, Ms. Wolfsbane. We're old friends with X-Red." Gar turtles over to the traces and upgrades to carriage-horse again, shrugging slightly as the various tack and braces slip into place. Vorpal will no doubt have a snide word or two as they get under way, but for now, he's just going to use an illusion to look like Keith again, because they might need to drop this guy in the bay if he Krampuses out again.

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