Hipsters and Zombies?

June 05, 2017:

Ripclaw and Darkedge stumble upon some very strange patrons at a Beer Festival

Queens, NY


NPCs: zombies, Bobby the ghost

Mentions: Elinor


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

There is a beer festival going on in Queens this evening. While a Monday night doesn't seem to be all that popular for such an occasion, there apparently is an influx of Hipsters craving their craft beer and Mondays are the perfect time to imbibe. Most everyone is civil, but there are heated debates over just when it was that Radiohead sold out, or which Sonic Youth album was the best. (Apparently the Washing Machine album is too passe.) Either way nothing too untoward seems to happen until the sun goes down.

By this point, most people are drunk on their craft beer served by Beer Sommeliers. So a few extra people are not noticed. An older woman rifles through the crowd looking very lost and confused. She stops people, asking if they have seen her cat, but most people turn their noses up at her as she appears to be homeless. Another man in a 3 piece suit is stumbling around as if he isn't sure how to use his own body. He speaks, but a child's voice leaves his lips. He's asking for pizza, but more importantly he's really trying to find his mother. Several other people in the crowd begin to stumble around, unsure of their footing and speaking in voices that are not their own. Though the general gathering of Hipsters so far haven't paid them any mind.

Drawn by the sense of magic, a silver haired elf slips out of a shadow. His hood is up and the dark Plexiglas snow boarder mask is over his eyes, letting him look about into spaces normally too bright for him. He pads through the crowd, listening, watching, sensing for a source.

Robert is against upbringing and his best judgments a rather big fan of a good beer. He is here and has been here since it began. Not a brewer himself but he can appreciate the craft as much as the next man or woman. The white skinned Iroquois is wearing shades, his hair drawn up in a topknot and actually seated at a keg. Gloves on his hands as he arm wrestles an even larger, potbellied muscular man. They are both at the same time chugging down drinks being handed to them. It's sport. It's fun and it's not really an attempt from him, he is trying to appear human after all. The blue on black flannel he wears covering his forearms, open at the front to reveal a print fading AC DC shirt. His cowboy boots dug in at the toes in to the sides of the table between him and his opponent.

An empath and magical sensitive Robert looks away, sniffs the air and due to distraction his wrist SLAMS down with a *clunk* it doesn't sound like bone or flesh. A perplexed look from those around and then tubby stands up cheering.

Robert forgets the show to push past, looking like a sore loser but hes not, hes as curious as the elf is right now.

The homeless woman passes in front of Darkedge, paying him absolutely no mind however should he look close enough he would recognize her face. It's Patti, the homeless woman that Elinor used to visit and had recently found dead in the alley. Although the voice coming out of her mouth sounds nothing like the ghost that briefly spoke with him before moving on.

"Freckles… I need my freckles. He is so lonely with out me. Who feeds him? He could never find food on his own… my poor freckles." She reaches for the arm of a nearby woman and tugs on it harshly, almost surprised at the sensation of physical touch. "Will you find my Freckles?" The girl screams and bats the old woman away. The old woman growls and lunges after her.

Robert is approached by the man in suit, perhaps it's the height of him, but something causes the man with sandy brown hair to reach over and tug on his arm. "Excuse me mister." His voice is young, as if it was coming from a boy a fraction of the mans age. "I can't find my friend, this city is wreally too big. I can't find my back pack either, it has the Ninja Turtles on it. It's very important that I have my backpack and my friend. Can you see her?"

Both of these 'people' reek of magic. Either some sort of animation spell or worse, either way it's what is keeping them up and running.

The elf was just walking, not at all sure what was going until there was a familiar passing right by him. The elf follows her, this Patti, this one who died. Darkedge saw it. he was there. This is not normal. So, the elf follows as closely as he dares, closer than he'd like. Thus, as Patti lunges the elf is there, reaching to intercept while telling the human girl a single word: "Run."

Magic. Lots of it. The source must be found and destroyed.

Robert's nose curls as the scent is close now. The tug on his arm gets a look down at the man and the Native actually peels his glasses up enough to get a better look at him. Robert is known to some tribes around the world who still have a tie to the old world known as the Ghost Warrior, a mystic hero, a gift of his is the ability to see the other 'world' magic, the supernatural and auras. When he tries at least. Opens his mind. Which he is doing right now, that smell, the preternatural feel… all of it is so heavy this night. "A turtle backpack. Sure… I will look." Which he does, lifting red gleaming mutant eyes from the man to spy past him, past the crowd as far as he can see.

The woman turns on Darkedge snarling as she does. "How dare you… how dare you stop me!" She swings at him aiming for his torso and while she looks feeble and weak, her punch feels very strong. "You dare interfere! You do not know what you mettle in! Leave me to my task! I must complete my task!" She begins to flail her fists upon him, while the acrid scent of decay wafts off of her.

When Robert takes a closer look at the man he see's a faint child's face super-imposed over the grown mans face. The lips sync up, speaking at the same time, but the voice is obviously the childs. "No! A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack! Not a turtle back pack!" His tone is almost aghast as if those two things would dare be mistaken for each other. The scuffle catches his eye and he points to Darkedge. "Him! He knows my friend! He'll take me to my friend!" He attempts to tug at the taller man, but even with his supernatural strength, he can't seem to tug at his shirtsleeve hard enough.

Darkedge parries, once, sneering at stench and strength both. As it's clear the old woman seeks to fully attack him, the elf moves.

Really, this fight doesn't look matched at all! Darkedge is a lean, youthful looking elf, and his moves are all efficient as a highly trained killer. And his busting out the ninja moves against an old crone, seeking to get behind her, grab a wrist to twist an arm roughly up behind her back, and then shove her to the ground.

"Name task, human," the elf is snarling softly.

"A child?" Ripclaw says quietly, his eyes leap from the overlay of a spiritual visage to Darkedge then back. The woman snarling has him tensing, his shirt sleeve ripping open with the tug of the super-humanly strong man being piloted by a ghost? It actually forces Robert to plant himself and resist, the flannel tearing off up to the shoulder. "Is she the source?" He asks loud, his voice carrying to Darkedge. Yeah, he recognizes Elinor's familiar. Though, if he is that or not he is unsure. Guardian? Boyfriend? He'll find out. "Let go." A palm slams up and shoves at the man. "I cannot help you find your… Ninja Turtle Back Pack. I think you are lost… " Not in the physical sense either.

The old woman laughs as she is turned and pinned. Darkedge would feel the stiffness in her joints and perhaps even breaks a bone or two, but she doesn't seem to notice the pain. She turns to look at him, her neck twisting in an unnatural way, causing several audible cracks to break through the air. "I must.. find Her. It all points to her." The breath coming out of her mouth is foul, and she squirms against him.

When the shirt is ripped, the man child looks confused and looks at the pale arm. "What source?! I don't know what a source is, I know I need to find my friend! Come on!" He says with the insistent urgency that only a child can muster. When he mentions being lost, he sighs. "Of course I'm lost, if I knew where I was I'd go home!"

Darkedge doesn't flinch at the broken bones he's causing, not as the creature writhes beneath him. He tightens his hold as hipsters around them back away and some are starting to work up the bravado to save the old woman from the crazy goth guy.

"Name her, monster," demands the elf, working to maintain his grip.

Ripclaw frowns at the child, his hand reaching up to grip around the pouch at his neck and he digs a fingertip in, a clawpoint now covered in an essence of things not of this world and some very much of. Oedha blessed and sanctified. "Look at me child, you are lost." At least Ripclaw hopes that is what is going on, a necromancer perhaps calling them or simply the child is tethered to the bag. Is it even here? A flick of that mystery dust from his pouch is tossed upon the supernaturally strong host. "Release yourself." A banishment spell. A weak one but still one. No prep time and limited in magical power while in a city of this magnitude.

A few hipsters look brave enough to approach, there is something off putting about the whole situation that has them pausing. There is a shift in the woman and her face flashes before her voice changes. A deep mans voice leaves her lips as her body shudders in Dark's grasp. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." A deep laughter fills the air as the body starts to convulse.

When he is called to look at Ripclaw, the other man shudders and looks at him. For a moment he's confused, but when the dust comes his sway his eyes go wide. "No! He needs to warn—" But the banishment no matter how weak, does it's trick. The eyes go black and the visage returns to that the host it was in. The body immediately drops into a crumpled heap on the ground and before everyone's eyes begins to quickly decay. This causes more people to turn and run, screaming from whatever strange disease this creature died of.

That is definitely not normal. Not even for the fae realm. He will memory share with Elinor later. For the moment, the elf summons a blade of diamond to his hand not holding the woman's arm and then it's sunk into the back of her skull, seeking to end her suffer and the hold this thing has on her quickly.

"Stay unnamed then," he tells the thing coldly.

The drop of the man before him has Ripclaw frowning, his eyes look to the others scattering and then Darkedge, "Tell me what is happening?" He is behind on his mysticism, the supernatural. Out of touch with so much right now. Ripclaws arms snap out to the side and blades elongate, lengthen and his fingers now each resemble something the length of shortswords.

The body in Darkedge's arms twitches as it's brain is damaged. For a moment it laughs before the light too leaves it's eyes and the body instantly starts decaying. Soon several other 'people' drop dead in the same manor. At this point everyone starts running and screaming, thinking that everyone has come down with a sudden death disease. Some people start pointing toward Darkedge, thinking that he murdered the woman, who was already dead. Still, the magic stops, leaving only a faint residue that feels wrong. It's not quite the Primordial Darkness that Elinor has been hunting down recently, but it's definatly not good.

Darkedge feels the magic ripple out, the possessed people fall, and the thing leaving this one's body. He knows that this woman is dead, and he stands without remorse for what he did. And then when he looks up, he sighs at the humans assuming he's murdered… again. He will have to go by SHIELD to inform them. Later. For now, the elf looks to Ripclaw, blade disappearing up his sleeve.

"Magic. Very not-good… magic." states the elf walking toward a shadow.

"Am going now. I must report. Elinor has way to reach you?" the elf asks, waiting a moment for the response before nodding once, stepping into a shadow, and disappearing from the area.

Those who are present and still persisting will get sliced down by the large feral-mutant. His hair falling loose from that topknot just enough to frame his features, "I can manage a way. There are methods especially if she has a phone." Ripclaw responds to Darkedge. The mystic warrior will figure a way out. Elinor. She is firmly a visual in his mind from the other night. AN exhale and he steps over one of the piles of 'once people' a small whisper under his breath being given. A prayer but no one needs to know that. His God is not a traditional one.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License