sortinghat_rp | (no subject)

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This is perhaps the strangest hallucination I have ever experienced. Tactile is not generally a component nor do I tend to believe I've lived two different childhoods. Can't be H.O.U.N.D. and I haven't used. Lucid dreaming, perhaps? Most likely though in that case I have rather lost control. Very odd indeed, but then I do seem to harbor the belief that this book will populate itself with responses and that I'm at a school for learning magic. It hardly does to only call one thing odd when so much is absolutely ridiculous. But I believe it. That shouldn't be possible.

I'll have to consider carefully how to move forward from here. I'm not sure how but it could be Moriarty. Makes as much sense as anything.

[ooc - replies with not_a_hero. 4th wall breaking is A-Okay]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nearly impossible to tell just from this. Smaller than a centaur though so you can relax on having to play diplomat. Most likely four legged, though, given the path it carved through the twigs and undergrowth. Too tall to be a lizard and no drag marks from a tail. Mammal sounds likely. Most large mammals are vegetarians but I'm willing to bet there are plenty of wizard world beasts that go against that statement.

[John kneels, hoping to get a slightly better look.]

You're definitely right there. Underestimating the size and general nastiness of anything in this forest would be a terrible idea.

Do you think it came through recently?

Hard to tell with the mud. If I could find a footprint... AH!

[Sherlock leaps along, kneeling down near a patch of brush over a spread of mud.]

Less than half an hour judging by these prints! Still relatively fresh with very few water pools from the soil saturation. Long claws, padded feet... hairy. Bit hard to tell feline from canine but these claws are massive!

[It's hard not to appreciate or at least be amused by the enthusiasm, even if it means there's a quickly-spreading gap between John and Sherlock... and by extension, their only torch. As long as he can still see the light and hear Sherlock's voice, it's not too bad, but it's best to try not to get too separated, especially with all this talk about giant claws.

He jumps down. Considerably easier than climbing up, that.]

Given this is magic we're talking about, it might somehow be canine and feline all at once. Can you tell which direction it was going?

Given that feet aren't generally worn backwards, yes. It went in through there.

[Sherlock waves the torch out in front. The light catches in the eyes of something watching them. Sherlock sits up a little straighter. Oh.]

[John rolls his eyes.]

You know what I meant. Prat.

[Being a bit further off, John doesn't see the glint of the light against the eyes. All he sees is Sherlock suddenly go still and rigid. He frowns and takes a few steps closer.]

Sherlock...?

[Sherlock holds his hand back for him to stop.]

John, you might want to try getting back over that tree now.

[Now worried, he takes a few more, quicker steps forward.]

What are you talk-

[He's cut off by a terrible growl that freezes him in place and sends chills down his spine. It takes a second for him to realize it's coming from right in front of Sherlock.]

Jesus Christ, get the hell away from it!

I'm maintaining direct eye contact, am holding a stick on fire and am 90% legs. Get. Over. The. Tree. Don't run, back away as slowly as you can, and don't make any quick movements.

[Despite the fact that his heart is thundering in his chest, John stays put. He even has the sense to lower his voice now that the shock's worn off.]

And what, just leave you there? We need the torch to see the way out of here, and I'm the only one of us with something that can even remotely be used as a weapon.

[He carefully slides the scissors out of his pocket, and does not back off toward the tree.]

I do hope you gave thought to the distance you need to effectively defend yourself with sewing supplies. I don't know that there's time to run now either way.

Do me a favor and close your eyes. I'm going to try to set it on fire. I want your night vision to be ready if we lose the torch.

[John draws in a sharp breath through his teeth, fuming that Sherlock's right. As much as John wants to just charge ahead and launch himself at whatever Sherlock's facing down, it's just not practical. It's just not practical.

He shuts his eyes and grinds his teeth.]

Shit! They're closed! But the second anything goes wrong, I'm charging at it and trying to get you out of there, short legs be damned.

If there is one thing in this world I have absolute faith in, it is you.

On three, then. One... two....

[He lunges forward with his stick and the animal certainly does not like that. It backs away from the fire but only so as to try and come in around it. The dew on the ground has made the undergrowth hard to light and Sherlock worries the same may be true for the animal's coat. Not good.

It growls, nearly roars at them and in it's circling of the fire. Sherlock can see it clearly now and is... well, yes, surprised.]

It's a rodent!

[Not that that is entirely in their favor. He does not like the look of those front teeth. He makes one last good stab at it with the torch and he can smell singed fur and definitely tell the cry is one of pain but it will not catch. It lunges at him defensively, no longer too afraid of the fire not to chance the attack.]

[John doesn't have time to process the surprisingly candid remark from Sherlock when there's so much danger afoot. His eyes can't help flying open when he hears the creature shriek in pain. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and focus, but he sees the beast lunge for Sherlock.]

Sherlock!

[He breaks into a sprint, hoping to get there before too much damage is done. With both hands on the object, he jams the scissors into the unusually large rodent's thick hide. It's not enough to kill, but definitely enough to pierce and hurt. John can feel the creature's hot blood on his hands.]

[Sherlock's got the torch's wooden shaft in the rodent's jaws, wincing slightly at the claws as they try and pin him down. He watches John attack, surprised for only a moment by the fierce expression on his face, then feels rather alarmed when the rodent rears back towards its assailant, snapping it's teeth towards John's arm which they could likely snap like twigs. He most certainly does not have the beasts attention any more. He stabs at it with the torch again but the impact is blunt and snaps the broken shaft. The fire manages to catch on a small patch of brush dry enough to smoke, though.

Sherlock gets up, trying to grab the things tail, jump on it, anything to help John.]

[John narrowly avoids the rodent's jaws as it snaps for him. He keeps his hands on the scissors; letting go now would just put him at an even greater disadvantage. At least this way he can twist the scissors and try to pull them out for another round. They've dug deep into the creature's flesh, though, and John strains himself as he tries to focus on ripping the scissors out and avoiding the jaws and claws.

In his periphery, he spots Sherlock trying to help. Between panting breaths, he tries to call out over the rodent's roars and terrible shrieks.]

Blind it! Try to go for the eyes! Maybe it'll back off!

Get closer to the head?!

[Great idea and all but that seems to be the more dangerous end. Sherlock digs in his pocket and grabs another roll of cloth. There's really not enough time to find a suitable stick to use as a weapon but he might not need to. He grabs the tail and wraps the cloth around it, tying it in a knot best he can before grabbing another match from the box he carries.]

Once it's lit, let go!

[He strikes the match and lights the cloth which catches beautifully and burns against the beasts flesh.

It is not a happy rodent.]

Edited 2013-04-23 15:29 (UTC)

[Beset as he is by the giant rodent, John can't really see the fire Sherlock has lit. However, he does hear its hideous shrieks and smell the acrid scent of burning hair and skin. As Sherlock demanded, John lets go of the scissors and rolls away from the creature. It sends him into a thicket of underbrush and brambles, but it's far better than the alternative.

Panting and charged with adrenaline, he rips away some of the gnarled foliage in an attempt to see how Sherlock is faring and whether the rodent is finally fleeing.]

[The beast charges off into the forest to try and escape the attack, not quite clever enough to realize it can't outrun its own tail but too pained and frenzied to do anything but try.

Sherlock hardly gives time to catch his own breath before he's up, looking for John, sounding far more worried now that the attack is over than he did when they were in the thick of it.]

John?!

[He sees him and runs, sliding to his knees to check and see that everything is alright, pulling open John's jacket and inspecting his hands and arms for all signs of injury.]

Edited 2013-04-23 23:55 (UTC)

[Still humming with wild energy, John gasps with relief when he sees the beast run off and, even more importantly, Sherlock stand.]

Sherlo-

[And he's all but tackled by his friend. He tries saying Sherlock's name a few more times as he's manhandled in the attempt to check for injury, but none of it seems to be breaking through.]

Sherlock!

[He clamps his hands down on Sherlock's shoulders. Might not be great getting giant rat blood on Sherlock's nice coat, but he can worry about that later. He uses it as an opportunity to try to look for any injuries on Sherlock as well.]

I'm fine. None of the blood's mine. It's all... that thing's. I've just got a couple of scrapes from the brambles.

You? It was... it lunged at you while I was still behind, I didn't see if it scratched or bit you or anything.

Just a scratch, not worth bothering with.

[Though he does pull his coat a little further closed to hide the rips in the shirt along his right ribs. Without the torch it's rather dark and not at all easy to see if John is being honest when he says he's fine.]

Are you sure you're alright? I count ten fingers but are you sure none of this blood is yours?

[John gestures to his knees, where what little moonlight there is is just enough to show that his trousers have ripped and his skin is a little reddened and scuffed.]

I'm sure that's it, and I know I didn't get it from the rat.

[He narrows his eyes, having noticed Sherlock draw his coat closer.]

Show me. Your definition of 'just a scratch' and mine might not be the same. Hell, that thing might have even had poisoned claws! Let me see.

[Sherlock scowls at the attention. This was his idea and John nearly got killed and who in the right mind is worried about Sherlock at a time like this? Stupid doctors.]

You'll make a fuss. You said you brought bandages, yes? We should put them to better use and get another torch made. I've matches enough to get us through several more if necessary.

Unless, of course, you want to stay and explore a bit longer?

When someone you care about has been scratched by some unknown rat monster thing, of course you make a fuss!

[He removes the bandages from his pocket. Two rolls, just enough for a new torch and mild injuries.]

If the wound's not bad, I've got enough for you to light us a new torch and for me to patch you up for the time being. Now either you open your coat and show me, or I'll do what you pulled on me and look for myself.

[Sherlock pouts slightly and holds open his coat. The right side of his shirt has certainly seen better days and there's blood enough to have made a mess of it. He rips at the existing slashes in the shirt to try and show that the scratches are mostly superficial.]

It looks worse, I'm sure. I hardly feel it. Let me have a roll of bandages and I'll get us a new stick.

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