Jon feels himself pulled back abruptly and turns to look at whoever has been holding him back from his friends, only to find himself facing a large, arachnid monstrosity. It clicks its mandibles at him hungrily, eyes glowing brightly while a clawed hand holds onto his shoulder.
He screams. It's loud, it's terrified and the Archivist struggles with what strength he can muster to free himself and back away from this monster trying to keep him from his friends.
"L-Let me go! Let me go! Please! Let-- Don't! HELP!!" The last part is clearly shouted in the direction of the invaders as Jon has resumed trying to reach those he perceives as people he cares for. As it is, he remains entirely unaware that some of the Graq have taken up to spitting at them again. Which of course means that Jon makes no move to dodge whatever is fired at him, but currently being the loudest and most confusing person in the room is sure to make him an obvious target.
Not that his mind notices any of the shots hitting him with the room still busy turning itself into an inverted pretzel and back. Did Steve just spit at him?
That makes Cayde release Jon quickly. There's no denying the terror on his face, in his scream.
"What the hell- Jon! Snap out of it!" the Hunter shouts. He jerks to the side and ducks as more spit flies, and seeing Jon attracting most of the attention, he leaps at him to tackle the Archivist out of the way. He's still not sure what's going on but neither is he sold on that stuff being completely harmless to organic beings. Why else would they be spitting at them?
The moment Cayde lets go of Jon, the Archivist darts away not nearly as swiftly and as successfully as he would like. His legs and feet don't fully cooperate with what Jon wants them to do and the result is much rather a graceless tumble than an escape.
In his mind, at least, he is running. But even in his mind he doesn't get far before the monster lunges after him and pushes him to the ground, resulting in further screams as it bears enormous teeth at him.
He pushes his hands frantically against the beast's throat - or what Jon presumes is its throat, which out of his mind much rather results in panicked slaps against Cayde's face. Tearing his eyes away from the monster, Jon does his best to fix his attention on one person. His probably last chance to frantically call for help.
"Oh my cotton socks, did y- ack! Break your brain with that trick or did you swallow some of that- argh! Spit!"
Slaps really don't do much to hurt a metal face, although it is kind of annoying, especially when Cayde's trying to do them both a favor. Or at least he thought he was. He turns his face away, mostly to try keeping Jon from making too sharp a smack against his beautiful, beautiful horn. Although he knows Jon's obviously not in his right mind, the panic, the imploring tone from the Archivist is painful to hear. He sighs, then bodily shoves Jon away from him as a fresh round of toxic spit comes hurtling towards them. The Exo can hear the material of his cloak sizzle as it starts to sport a new hole.
"All right, I'm gettin' kinda pissed off. Before, it was just gross, but now..."
He glances at Jon, and then at the bear-creature beings that have been gathering in full force for all the attention the Archivist's been drawing. "HEY!" he shouts, hauling himself up to his feet and raising his hand cannon towards the ceiling. As though some switch has been thrown, golden flames ignite and wreathe his body from the end of his boots to the tip of his gun, his normally blue optics glowing amber like liquid fire.
Normally this is where he'd start shooting, but he's at least given some consideration as to collateral damage, and he's not sure how well the inside of a ship would hold against the solar element of his Golden Gun. At this point he just wants people to shut up and stop doing stupid things. That's usually his job.
Once again Jon is being released and at this point it's panic and adrenaline alone that keeps him going as he scrambles yet again to get away and towards the illusion of safety. As much as he tries, though, Jon just doesn't seem capable of pushing himself up onto his feet, for the swirling floor shifts between being made of glass and lasagna and an odd ink that threatens to swallow him and often it's just all these things at once and all he really wants is to escape this nightmare and reach tony and-
And suddenly the monster behind him bursts into flames.
Jon freezes in his panic and turns his head to see as three more spit projectiles hit him, burning holes into his clothes and seeking into the skin beneath. But Jon doesn't register that. He's sure his heart has stopped entirely at the sight of the flaming terror about to end him.
A final shot of the acidic stuff hits the side of his head angrily and knocks the Archivist down onto his side. Jon hits the ground with a low thud and remains there, wide, desperate eyes staring at the cackling mass of giant limbs and flames as he grasps helplessly at anything to defend himself with. But there is nothing right there for his hands to get a hold of.
Well, Cayde wanted to get their attention and he's got it. He still has absolutely no idea what's going on in Jon's head but it's hard to tell how much worse he's made it when the guy's being slammed by flying alien spit.
At least their target changes dramatically then. The strange creatures absolutely panic, their focus shifting away from the poor babbling Archivist as they start concentrating their attacks at the flaming Exo. Spit and weapons discharge, the former hissing upon contact with his fiery aura. It's much more obvious how unused to the weapons they hold are, not much by way of aiming although there's still definitely a risk of getting hit by their random fire.
And then even the weapons themselves fly as some of the bearlike creatures in their terror start hurling them in the Exo's direction, not that they're very aerodynamic. Some clatter near Jon, but maybe given everything else going through his mind, getting accidentally beaned by weapons is an improvement.
As much of a waste of a charge as it is, Cayde refrains from firing outright. Instead he charges, using his temporary advantage to get in close to the creatures. He feels the familiar, if unsettling hiccup of whatever connection the Light had been earlier disrupted, but by then the golden flames engulfing him have started to die out. Yet he keeps moving, swinging his hand cannon around to try knocking out flailing creatures with a smack to the back of their heads with its grip.
Jon hardly notices what's going on at that point. But he does still notice the monster. The one that actually looks like a monster and is threatening everyone.
It moves. Not at, but past him, as some semi-present part of his brain decides to point out.
He has to do something. Anything. He has to help!
But how. How can he help when his limbs are bolted to this floor of semi-solid cement? When his head got engulfed by a vacuum and his right arm is visiting different places?
Someone is shouting nearby...
Somehow he manages to turn onto his back. More or less, at least. His remaining hand flops away uselessly, fingers brushing against the cold material of discarded weapons.
Right. He can shoot. He has learned that - Shooting.
Without looking, Jon's fingers try to grasp the alien weapon, his mind limping somewhere behind when he somehow manages to pull the trigger, sending a blast of energy through the room.
Frenzied alien bear-things are a lot more easier to deal with than swarms of Thrall that just want to claw off your face. It's almost sad, really, watching them try to use their weapons, the only real clue that Cayde has to figure that they aren't something the creatures are familiar with.
He hopes that if his earlier suggestions to just disable them hadn't been heard, that his actions would be noted by the others of their counterstrike team. Not that this is feeling very 'counter-y'. He can't tell if people have gotten hit by flying gobs or stray shots, but at the moment he's of the mind that it's better to take care of the main problem and deal with others, such as crazed Archivists, once there's less things being shot at him.
And then he gets hit from behind by a wild blast that burns across his side. It sends him stumbling into one of the other bear things, which in turn ends up getting sandwiched between the Exo and a tree before it slumps down. Cayde groans, looking down at his smoldering side, assessing whether it's done more than just singe his worn armor, deciding he's certainly taken a lot worse, and in the end it's better than getting melted.
He looks back to see which pugbear he's missed when he realizes who exactly had pulled the trigger. "JON! Quit helping!"
While Jon hears the shouts as well as the terrifying noises of the beast, it's difficult to make out proper words. About as difficult as handling that weapon he can't even figure out how to hold anymore. Hands and fingers have turned into an abstract suggestion carried by purple worms and decorated with the smell of inverted rainbows.
Though there is a tiny part of him that tries to call through the fog clouding the Archivist's mind. It's a fickle attempt at making him understand that nothing of this is true. Jon doesn't hear it, however. But his hand slips away from the weapon along with his consciousness as he finds himself swallowed by the noise of orange.
Keith had no idea what was going on, really, so staying back wasn't hard. But, when all quiznak started breaking loose, it was time to do something. He pretty quick on his feet and was able to avoid getting hit by random weapons fire, at least, and most of the spitting seemed aimed at Cayde and Jon for now. That was fine. He took cover for the moment behind some foliage and watched, looking for an opening. Cayde's display of flaming power was downright impressive, and Keith watched to see if there was any sort of organization among the aliens... was there a leader calling the shots or were they just an angry mob? If he could get to the leader, he might be able to get them to stop fighting.
They're totally an angry mob. Or a freaking out one, anyway. At least a few are down for the count, and a few more without weapons because they'd panicked and thrown them at Cayde when he'd pulled his little fire stunt. Still, they're not completely harmless, not when they've got questionable spit.
But their attention's on Cayde, given that Jon hasn't done anything more to gain their focus, not since shooting the previously on-fire demon. Because that's what Cayde is, obviously. Spit hisses as it eats away at the tree the Exo ducks behind, and although there's maybe only about half of their number still active, they're keeping Cayde pinned down. Their spit is definitely the more reliably aimed, although Keith and the others might have to watch out for stray shots from their weapons, which don't at all look like the Agrii death type.
"Gah! A little help here?" Cayde calls out, jerking back his head again as spit whizzes past his face.
Angry mob, then. Right. Sometimes, those were more dangerous. Another quick look to assess his risks, and then Keith activated his bayard. The strange black and white object he'd been carrying that looked more like a weird toy than a weapon suddenly morphed into a bladed weapon with a flash of light, and he jumped out of his cover, hoping to pull some of the attention of the mob away from Cayde as well as attempt to grab one of the dropped weapons in the hopes that he didn't have to stay in close quarters with acid spit for too long...
And it worked. Some of the mob turned towards him as soon as they realized he was there, giving Cayde the needed break.
Good thing Keith makes his move- Cayde was running out of tree! He hears the surprised sounds of the creatures and peeks back out from his cover. The tree's started to creak then, the acid taking its toll as it eats through the trunk. Optics flicking upwards, the Exo gets an idea.
Meanwhile the creatures see Keith armed and find in him a new threat. They forget about their weapons completely, falling back on what seems to be their main method of attack- spit balls. They spatter and fly after the pilot, causing patches of grass and bark to sizzle and blacken.
Suddenly from behind them is a snapping sound and the rustle of leaves. "Timber!" Cayde calls out, the upper portion of his former tree cover creaking omniously as it tips and then falls. It's not a terribly big tree, but it still catches a couple of the creatures off guard and beneath it. It just plain misses two of the others, one of which had just covered its head when the third had actually dove out of the way.
Keith barely dodged the falling tree and the attackers, but managed to squeak out unscathed... at least, from the branches. He grimaced, though, as some of that spit soaked a hole through the leg of his pants just above his knee.
Cayde raised his arms in typical fashion of celebration. That Keith had gotten out of the way was quite reassuring, however he looked a litlte concerned to see he'd been spat at.
"Uh...acid spit? Well, acid to not-people and materials. But I'm still not convinced it isn't completely harmless to flesh!" he said, watching anxiously as the remaining Graq recover from their shock and then begin their guttural gabbing and attacks anew. With Keith in immediate sight, they turn to take aim.
Keith looked even more grossed-out for just long enough, but dropped back down into a fight stance as the creatures began moving again after recovering from their shock.
Acidic to non-organic material... so he had to be careful with his bayard. Got it... Good thing he had a backup knife.
At least it was only three more, but angry, scared, unpredictable and ready-to-spitball-you sorts were hardly harmless. They started to spit one after the other once they saw Keith look to be ready to attack.
Cayde had long since holstered his own gun- he hadn't fired a single shot with it anyway. He moved to where Jon had collapsed to check on him and pull him back to where he wouldn't be in danger of getting caught up in spit crossfire again.
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revivalproject2020-08-05 02:19 pm
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He screams. It's loud, it's terrified and the Archivist struggles with what strength he can muster to free himself and back away from this monster trying to keep him from his friends.
"L-Let me go! Let me go! Please! Let-- Don't! HELP!!" The last part is clearly shouted in the direction of the invaders as Jon has resumed trying to reach those he perceives as people he cares for. As it is, he remains entirely unaware that some of the Graq have taken up to spitting at them again. Which of course means that Jon makes no move to dodge whatever is fired at him, but currently being the loudest and most confusing person in the room is sure to make him an obvious target.
Not that his mind notices any of the shots hitting him with the room still busy turning itself into an inverted pretzel and back. Did Steve just spit at him?
no subject
"What the hell- Jon! Snap out of it!" the Hunter shouts. He jerks to the side and ducks as more spit flies, and seeing Jon attracting most of the attention, he leaps at him to tackle the Archivist out of the way. He's still not sure what's going on but neither is he sold on that stuff being completely harmless to organic beings. Why else would they be spitting at them?
no subject
In his mind, at least, he is running. But even in his mind he doesn't get far before the monster lunges after him and pushes him to the ground, resulting in further screams as it bears enormous teeth at him.
He pushes his hands frantically against the beast's throat - or what Jon presumes is its throat, which out of his mind much rather results in panicked slaps against Cayde's face. Tearing his eyes away from the monster, Jon does his best to fix his attention on one person. His probably last chance to frantically call for help.
"T-Tony- Tony! P-please help me!! Help! It's going to-- HELP! I-I'm sorry- Just-- Tony. Please!!"
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Slaps really don't do much to hurt a metal face, although it is kind of annoying, especially when Cayde's trying to do them both a favor. Or at least he thought he was. He turns his face away, mostly to try keeping Jon from making too sharp a smack against his beautiful, beautiful horn. Although he knows Jon's obviously not in his right mind, the panic, the imploring tone from the Archivist is painful to hear. He sighs, then bodily shoves Jon away from him as a fresh round of toxic spit comes hurtling towards them. The Exo can hear the material of his cloak sizzle as it starts to sport a new hole.
"All right, I'm gettin' kinda pissed off. Before, it was just gross, but now..."
He glances at Jon, and then at the bear-creature beings that have been gathering in full force for all the attention the Archivist's been drawing. "HEY!" he shouts, hauling himself up to his feet and raising his hand cannon towards the ceiling. As though some switch has been thrown, golden flames ignite and wreathe his body from the end of his boots to the tip of his gun, his normally blue optics glowing amber like liquid fire.
Normally this is where he'd start shooting, but he's at least given some consideration as to collateral damage, and he's not sure how well the inside of a ship would hold against the solar element of his Golden Gun. At this point he just wants people to shut up and stop doing stupid things. That's usually his job.
no subject
And suddenly the monster behind him bursts into flames.
Jon freezes in his panic and turns his head to see as three more spit projectiles hit him, burning holes into his clothes and seeking into the skin beneath. But Jon doesn't register that. He's sure his heart has stopped entirely at the sight of the flaming terror about to end him.
A final shot of the acidic stuff hits the side of his head angrily and knocks the Archivist down onto his side. Jon hits the ground with a low thud and remains there, wide, desperate eyes staring at the cackling mass of giant limbs and flames as he grasps helplessly at anything to defend himself with. But there is nothing right there for his hands to get a hold of.
The desperate muttering doesn't cease. "...p-p-p-please.... please, Tony- p- please... help-"
no subject
At least their target changes dramatically then. The strange creatures absolutely panic, their focus shifting away from the poor babbling Archivist as they start concentrating their attacks at the flaming Exo. Spit and weapons discharge, the former hissing upon contact with his fiery aura. It's much more obvious how unused to the weapons they hold are, not much by way of aiming although there's still definitely a risk of getting hit by their random fire.
And then even the weapons themselves fly as some of the bearlike creatures in their terror start hurling them in the Exo's direction, not that they're very aerodynamic. Some clatter near Jon, but maybe given everything else going through his mind, getting accidentally beaned by weapons is an improvement.
As much of a waste of a charge as it is, Cayde refrains from firing outright. Instead he charges, using his temporary advantage to get in close to the creatures. He feels the familiar, if unsettling hiccup of whatever connection the Light had been earlier disrupted, but by then the golden flames engulfing him have started to die out. Yet he keeps moving, swinging his hand cannon around to try knocking out flailing creatures with a smack to the back of their heads with its grip.
no subject
It moves. Not at, but past him, as some semi-present part of his brain decides to point out.
He has to do something. Anything. He has to help!
But how. How can he help when his limbs are bolted to this floor of semi-solid cement? When his head got engulfed by a vacuum and his right arm is visiting different places?
Someone is shouting nearby...
Somehow he manages to turn onto his back. More or less, at least. His remaining hand flops away uselessly, fingers brushing against the cold material of discarded weapons.
Right. He can shoot. He has learned that - Shooting.
Without looking, Jon's fingers try to grasp the alien weapon, his mind limping somewhere behind when he somehow manages to pull the trigger, sending a blast of energy through the room.
no subject
He hopes that if his earlier suggestions to just disable them hadn't been heard, that his actions would be noted by the others of their counterstrike team. Not that this is feeling very 'counter-y'. He can't tell if people have gotten hit by flying gobs or stray shots, but at the moment he's of the mind that it's better to take care of the main problem and deal with others, such as crazed Archivists, once there's less things being shot at him.
And then he gets hit from behind by a wild blast that burns across his side. It sends him stumbling into one of the other bear things, which in turn ends up getting sandwiched between the Exo and a tree before it slumps down. Cayde groans, looking down at his smoldering side, assessing whether it's done more than just singe his worn armor, deciding he's certainly taken a lot worse, and in the end it's better than getting melted.
He looks back to see which pugbear he's missed when he realizes who exactly had pulled the trigger. "JON! Quit helping!"
no subject
Though there is a tiny part of him that tries to call through the fog clouding the Archivist's mind. It's a fickle attempt at making him understand that nothing of this is true. Jon doesn't hear it, however. But his hand slips away from the weapon along with his consciousness as he finds himself swallowed by the noise of orange.
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But their attention's on Cayde, given that Jon hasn't done anything more to gain their focus, not since shooting the previously on-fire demon. Because that's what Cayde is, obviously. Spit hisses as it eats away at the tree the Exo ducks behind, and although there's maybe only about half of their number still active, they're keeping Cayde pinned down. Their spit is definitely the more reliably aimed, although Keith and the others might have to watch out for stray shots from their weapons, which don't at all look like the Agrii death type.
"Gah! A little help here?" Cayde calls out, jerking back his head again as spit whizzes past his face.
no subject
Angry mob, then. Right. Sometimes, those were more dangerous. Another quick look to assess his risks, and then Keith activated his bayard. The strange black and white object he'd been carrying that looked more like a weird toy than a weapon suddenly morphed into a bladed weapon with a flash of light, and he jumped out of his cover, hoping to pull some of the attention of the mob away from Cayde as well as attempt to grab one of the dropped weapons in the hopes that he didn't have to stay in close quarters with acid spit for too long...
And it worked. Some of the mob turned towards him as soon as they realized he was there, giving Cayde the needed break.
no subject
Meanwhile the creatures see Keith armed and find in him a new threat. They forget about their weapons completely, falling back on what seems to be their main method of attack- spit balls. They spatter and fly after the pilot, causing patches of grass and bark to sizzle and blacken.
Suddenly from behind them is a snapping sound and the rustle of leaves. "Timber!" Cayde calls out, the upper portion of his former tree cover creaking omniously as it tips and then falls. It's not a terribly big tree, but it still catches a couple of the creatures off guard and beneath it. It just plain misses two of the others, one of which had just covered its head when the third had actually dove out of the way.
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"Gross... what is that?"
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"Uh...acid spit? Well, acid to not-people and materials. But I'm still not convinced it isn't completely harmless to flesh!" he said, watching anxiously as the remaining Graq recover from their shock and then begin their guttural gabbing and attacks anew. With Keith in immediate sight, they turn to take aim.
"Crap- incoming!"
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Acidic to non-organic material... so he had to be careful with his bayard. Got it... Good thing he had a backup knife.
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Cayde had long since holstered his own gun- he hadn't fired a single shot with it anyway. He moved to where Jon had collapsed to check on him and pull him back to where he wouldn't be in danger of getting caught up in spit crossfire again.