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
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.
no subject
no subject
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.
no subject
"Gross... what is that?"
no subject
"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!"
no subject
Acidic to non-organic material... so he had to be careful with his bayard. Got it... Good thing he had a backup knife.
no subject
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.