[ Noctis' objective is clear: he's here to defend the Town from the werewolves that seem to be gunning for it and the people residing within -- he's not here to soothe the beast, only to repel them from stepping foot into the place or to sink their teeth into any of the people he cares for.
Werewolves used to be people and so were daemons -- in this aspect there is very little different, and as the light of the full moon hangs in the inky black sky, Noctis is on the hunt for the wolves, stiffening at the sound of a bestial, guttural growl not too far away. ]
ii. what the heck [ So the people are being turned -- those who have been bitten are exhibiting signs of it, transforming partially into werewolves, and oh, Six, is that someone he knows?
Noctis approaches carefully. ]
Hey...
iii. into the woods - SPITFIRE STICKWEED [ Maybe it's the Town, maybe it's something else, but he can't shake the idea that this is what he's supposed to do, to source for the spitfire stickweed if he wants his loved ones and friends to stand a chance against this disease.
He can be found gathering these things up carefully within the forest and it's obvious he's been here awhile, cursing softly when one of them spits fire.
But when he hears the softest of rustling, he freezes, Ultima flaring to life in his hand. ]
iv. network i need to find someone who's got screaming fieldcress. which one of you has it?
v. complicated [ So things are getting complicated -- his friends are becoming werewolves like a lot of people in the village, some of them partially formed, it seems, but others have gone through a fuller transformation, which makes things tricky.
But he has to protect them by however means necessary until a cure can be made, and Noctis grimaces as he approaches one that seems to have been only recently formed. He's paranoid, on edge and testy, anxious and eager to do something, anything, but he fights down the powerful urge to settle things the hard way -- these are his friends, his fellow townspeople, right? ]
no subject
[ Noctis' objective is clear: he's here to defend the Town from the werewolves that seem to be gunning for it and the people residing within -- he's not here to soothe the beast, only to repel them from stepping foot into the place or to sink their teeth into any of the people he cares for.
Werewolves used to be people and so were daemons -- in this aspect there is very little different, and as the light of the full moon hangs in the inky black sky, Noctis is on the hunt for the wolves, stiffening at the sound of a bestial, guttural growl not too far away. ]
ii. what the heck
[ So the people are being turned -- those who have been bitten are exhibiting signs of it, transforming partially into werewolves, and oh, Six, is that someone he knows?
Noctis approaches carefully. ]
Hey...
iii. into the woods - SPITFIRE STICKWEED
[ Maybe it's the Town, maybe it's something else, but he can't shake the idea that this is what he's supposed to do, to source for the spitfire stickweed if he wants his loved ones and friends to stand a chance against this disease.
He can be found gathering these things up carefully within the forest and it's obvious he's been here awhile, cursing softly when one of them spits fire.
But when he hears the softest of rustling, he freezes, Ultima flaring to life in his hand. ]
iv. network
i need to find someone who's got screaming fieldcress. which one of you has it?
v. complicated
[ So things are getting complicated -- his friends are becoming werewolves like a lot of people in the village, some of them partially formed, it seems, but others have gone through a fuller transformation, which makes things tricky.
But he has to protect them by however means necessary until a cure can be made, and Noctis grimaces as he approaches one that seems to have been only recently formed. He's paranoid, on edge and testy, anxious and eager to do something, anything, but he fights down the powerful urge to settle things the hard way -- these are his friends, his fellow townspeople, right? ]
Hey. Can you still understand me?
vi. wildcard
[ hit me up with anything! ]