kore_logs | gather round you friends of mine

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gather round you friends of mine

Who: Dean, Clint, and the scouting club.
When: Daybreak on Day 79.
Where: The woods.
What: The scouting team was informed of the fact-finding mission set for Day 79, looking for anything strange after the Doctor's plot but also just feeling out the woods in general and getting a lay of the land. This is when they meet up yay! Here's some info on what you can expect to find.

Everyone who meets up by the woods gets split up into teams of two people -- everyone, because Dean and Clint don't allow for any pussyfooting or hemming and hawing about joining up. You're there or you're not, and you have some sort of weapon with you too. Preferably not a super shitty one, okay. If you don't have one or if you had one that was moronic and/or useless, you have a badass looking kitchen knife now. Congrats.

The goal is for everyone to take a different path through the woods, but don't get out of shouting range of the team next to you. If you need help, call for it. This is a fact finding mission, so there's no need for heroics or too much stupid shit.

Take care of each other. Be smart. Be alert.

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Dean's still reeling from the whole going-home, coming-back thing, so he was kind of glad when he checked his messages and saw the notice about the scouting club going out today. He needs to get in touch with Jo and Ellen and Kenzi, and anyone else who might've noticed he was gone, but he spent most of yesterday getting his memories back and readjusting. He can go out and tempt fate with these people now, and let them know he's okay after. He can't help that he had responsibilities, right? And he's totally not taking the Sam way out. He just got busy! Whatever.

He heads out with the guy whose name sounds like something Dean would've hunted.

"You do this kind of thing before?"

"Go into the trees t'get my ass kicked? Nah. Can't say I have." He smirks. The Killjoys had purposefully steered clear of the big breakout attempt that ended in disaster for a lot of people. When any of them do go into the woods, they don't go far.

But the limited space was starting to get to him. Pacing the same routes over and over, being confined. Ghoul's used to the wide, wide open and going wherever he wants. Being cooped up like this, it could drive a guy crazy. So he signed up. Itching to explore, even if the thick-green isn't what he's used to.

"How 'bout you, O captain, my captain? Please tell me y'got some experience along with the leadership gig." He's joking. Mostly.

"Experience with the kicking of asses, both mine and other peoples'? Yeah, I'm good." He smirks over at him, but Dean's keeping his wits about him. Not only does he need to still be in charge, still need to be listening out for anyone else around them that might need help, but he saw this guy get a gun pointed in his face the other day. So, you know.

"In the woods and out." Whoops, he accidentally described Purgatory, so that sucks and robs him of even his pasted-on charm, so he goes back to scanning their path. Dean has his gun and his machete, and he's not really hiding that fact.

"You are good in a fight? Weapon trained, shit like that?" Not like one of those stupid kids who came out here. Dean had half a mind to send them home.

Ghoul nods and that smirk stays firmly in place, though it's covering up a hell of a lot going on underneath. He can stay vigilant and still joke around. He can be smiling while dealing with so much else internally.

But it doesn't sound like he'll have to worry about this guy too much. Good thing, too, because Dean doesn't have to worry about him either. Or the gun that was pointed in his face.

"Trained, yeah. M'the best guy to have around in a fight." He's got a knife, he's got a crowbar left behind from one of his boys, and he's got a history. He turns the smile back on Dean, "I got you. Don't worry 'bout it. You just worry 'bout the team and lemme worry 'bout you, yeah?"

And hopefully no one is worrying about that whole... incident. From a while back.

The skeptical look Dean shoots him says he doubts that Ghoul is the best guy to have around, but also invites him to prove Dean wrong. Maybe even dares him to. Show Dean what you've got -- while hopefully not being an idiot about it, but that goes without saying.

"Glad you didn't turn out to be an actual ghoul. They're not very fun."

A couple of ghouls once ate and took the form of Dean's dad's surprise secret girlfriend and his surprise secret half brother, and then that other time Crowley locked Dean up with some ghouls who wanted to kill him. Definitely not a party.

"Where'd you get a name like that?"

Hopefully he won't have to, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't itching for a fight.

"The fuck-- ... Clearly you ain't been hangin' out with the right ones. All the Ghouls I know are fun." Ghoul, you know two. Including yourself. And one is just a nickname, GOD! He shrugs. He sniffs. They're still going and he's got his eyes on the way ahead. "Picked it. Found it." On his gun. The name just stuck. "Made it my own. Why?"

What the hell does he even mean? Actual Ghoul. That a joke? Must be.

"You picked that?" Excuse him while he openly mocks you. Mostly Dean wants to wind him up a little; what, it's friendly. It's harmless! He doesn't mean anything by it.

"Maybe I have been hanging around the wrong ones." Though that's about all he needed to confirm that this Ghoul has no idea about what's out there. "It won't be very hard for you to become my favorite ghoul, if that's what you're worried about."

The man she's been assigned to explore with smells like metal. She isn't even sure how. The kitchen knives explain some of it, but the rest of it is more like an aura surrounding him. Like... like... ozone before a storm? That's as close as she can come to it. It's an odd sensation to have shoved up her nostrils so forcefully.

Brigid fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, following him into the woods. The smell of burnt plants still lingers in the air. It won't go away until there's a good hard rain to wash clean the air.

"The game isn't going to come back for a while." She knows that. She can smell the burned animals that got caught. Her eyes trace the trails that she can still see amongst the foliage that is intact. The chittering of the birds overhead comforts her.

She isn't carrying a kitchen knife. She's uncomfortable with them and pretty sure it's more deadly to her than any opponent she comes across.

Meg is still pretty beat up from her encounter with Crowley back home. Her wounds aren't healing as fast as she would like and skipping off into the woods with a stranger is probably a pretty stupid thing to do. But on the other hand, her life is a ticking time bomb. Who knows how long it'll be before the powers that be send her home again, and she knows all that's waiting for her back home is death. Might as well make the most of the time she's got left.

She slips her angel blade into the back of her jeans. She's a little more wary of it now she's been on the receiving end of one, but it's still a powerful weapon to have, especially since her own powers aren't operating at full capacity.

"How did I get roped into babysitting duty?"

"Because you're Miss Congeniality." River's voice is still a little on the scratchy side, but she's improving, at least in that case; this situation, being sent on a mission of sorts, will either be good or bad she can't quite sort it yet. She still feels off but it's highly unlikely this ...woman ...who threatens newcomers and can't seem to find a civil atom in her being would really know anything about it.

Or notice, even, because she seems very wrapped up in her own self. "Who else would put up with you?"

River, in full on brat fashion, sticks her tongue out at Meg. "C'mon oldey let's go."

"I suggest you keep that in your mouth unless you want me to cut it off." Who says she can't be nice? Just because she doesn't ooze sugar, sprinkles and saccharine - at least people won't develop diabetes just from hanging around with her.

She couldn't argue the point of being old though since she was really, really a lot older than most might think. "Be sure to keep up. Fall behind and I'm going to leave you to the beasts and bears."

"Oh no. You'll abandon me." River keeps pace with Meg fairly easily, continuing along in a tired, droning monotone. "What so ever shall I do?"

Eyrolling and, yes, sticking her tongue out again because River is afraid of certain things but Meg has yet to be added to the list. There's plenty of trees, definitely, though River can spot where there are swathes of burned trunks and ground, empty and black husks reaching towards the sky. She rolls her eyes at that too, the failed escape attempt that scrambled her brain just a bit more, enough to knock her off her unsteady balance again.

"What is the plan and the plot for lions, tigers, bears, oh my?" Is Meg going to just snap her fingers and make them go away or what?

Stranger things have happened.

Would anyone notice if she fed River to the wildlife? Yes? Damn. Seriously, why did Meg always get stuck with the annoying brats? It was almost as annoying as being stuck with Dean but in mini form. Ugh.

"The plan? I was thinking of using you as a distraction or bait..." What? She was all for self-preservation. She wasn't going to get eaten by a bear in order to save a stranger.

"You got a better one?"

So much eye-rolling. If River has a better plan (and hers involves a lot of avoiding, tree climbing and hoping that she can break the limbs of a jungle cat fast enough if needed to) she isn't sharing with Meg.

Because that would be pointless.

So instead of, say, answering River just shrugs and then, the moment Meg is looking away, up a tree she goes.

Did... did she just lose the annoying brat? Does this mean she's free to go on adventuring alone? No one can blame her for a disappearing kid, right? It isn't her fault River up and vanished...

"Wow. Rude." Meg rolls her eyes and continues walking. She really should've stayed home. She could've been reading a magazine with her feet up resting right now instead of getting hot and sticky in the woods full of dangerous crap that wants to kill them.

"My plan," she announces from somewhere above Meg, "is not to be bait."

So yeah, screw that noise. "One eyes up, one eyes down. Easier to spot threats, traps and other dangerous substances. Not going to feed you to the metal menagerie."

"Unless of course there are creatures in the trees in which case you've made yourself easier bait." Meg continues along the way at ground level, despite her snark and aloofness, her senses are all on high alert for signs of danger. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She doesn't like this. Going into the unknown is hardly her idea of fun.

"Just keep your eyes open, kid."

There are cats, River knows, big ones, but she expects that she can climb at least a little higher and a little faster than one of them can.

And if not, there is always kicking it in the head. In River's experience, in these boots, that has worked fairly well in the past. A gun would also be useful, but bullets take time to make and effort to reload. She'll use what she has. Even a branch can impale.

Of course that's not the first thing she spots. The first thing she spots is a mechanical Hulk. "Mm. Wait."

Meg will see it eventually, right? It hasn't noticed them yet. Must be proximity programming.

Meg comes to a sudden stop. Oh yeah. She's seen it. Just what they need. Mechanical Hulks. It would be a lot less intimidating if Meg was operating at full capacity, but he injuries are still quite bad.

"Crap..." Suddenly the trees look a lot more appealing. Wouldn't be her first time hiding in a tree in Cape Kore. "Don't suppose smashing it into a tree would destroy it?"

"The statistics say the results would be poor. Metal against wood, and the wood will give first." Maybe Meg should climb a tree, because River isn't entirely certain how else they'll manage to get past this thing.

"Circumvention?"

"Circumvention - the smartest thing you've said all day." Meg starts to pull herself up one of the other trees.

If the shit really hits the fan then she can always smoke out and leave her squishy little meatsuit behind to buy them some time, but meatsuits seem a little short in supply around the Cape. People might start asking questions if she just settles in to a new body. Besides, she kind of likes the one she has.

River remains still and watches this mechanical monster more or less monitor it's own perimeter. What sort of resources would a government need, she wonders, to be able to build things like this? And why a Hulk of all the things?

Well, maybe that's a silly question. Right up there with how far out are they supposed to go, anyway? Once Meg is up, River climbs higher to see if she can spot anything else. "Turret."

Who knew what governments got up to behind closed doors? Global recession? Nah, shady governments are just spending all the dosh on giant mechanical Hulks to squish people.

"Turret? Well that doesn't sound ominous or dangerous at all... How far?"

"A distance..." Well, that's not the easiest question. How does one measure how long it would take the machine to notice them? "The width of a house and half the width again from the mechanical hulkling."

River shrugs. "We came, we saw, we return in our respectively whole pieces?"

"That's a plan I can get behind. If the others want to risk getting crushed that's up to them. Personally I prefer my internal organs to not be jellied."

And balancing in the trees is very uncomfortable.

Booker isn't a huge fan of teaming up, but it probably serves him right for trying to follow along unnoticed. There's a good handful of people here, at least, and honestly, his desire to see what the hell's in those woods that could possibly have everyone around here scared is just a touch stronger than his distaste for the term 'club'.

So the leader pairs him up with a little blonde thing and they're all sent on their way. Booker, of course, has nothing against her, as long as she can hold her own if things go awry. She looks tough, at least -- not that that's anything to go by, after seeing the Prophet's Little Lamb knock a few fellas around.

As they take their first steps into the woods, Booker's eyebrows raise, and he offers Jo his bandaged hand to shake. "Booker."

"I'm Jo."

She takes his hand and gives it a firm, confident shake, her own hand bearing fresh bandages as well. The injuries she'd had on arrival had healed up for the most part, thanks to Rapahel's intervention and some bedrest, but she's not quite 100% yet. Still, cabin fever had hit her hard, and when Dean had mentioned a scouting mission, she made it clear that in no uncertain terms was she okay with being left behind.

"Good to meet you. Sorry the circumstances ain't better."

"Good as it gets, I'd say," Booker says with a shrug, gaze turning back to the woods. He has his pistol, but he's hoping he won't have to use it. One thing's for sure, and that's that there's no ammo in this town. "Seein' as we're actually doing somethin' productive." Not that he's extremely eager to go back to Columbia, but he's not Kore's biggest fan.

"You been here long?"

"Here's hoping our efforts don't go to waste." She turns back towards the woods as well, ghosting her hand over the butt of the gun in her back pocket. The safety was on and she would default to one of her knives if something nasty turned up, but she felt better having it on her. Just in case. Sometimes, a knife wasn't enough to get the job done -- but ammo really was precious here. She wasn't going to waste what she had. Not if she could avoid it.

"Handful of days. Not really long enough to talk about. Spent most of it laid up." She glances towards him as she starts forward, bits of the usual forest debris crunching softly beneath her boots as she goes. "What about you? How long?"

"Near 'bout the same. Guess you could say I'm settled, don't mean I like it." Like complaining even more is going to get him anywhere, though, so he moves on, peering ahead into the dim woods, pushing a hanging branch aside.

"You gonna be alright if something leaps out at us?"

"I don't think there's a single one of us that likes it. And don't worry. I'm tougher than I look."

She flashes him a quick smile, pausing just long enough to bend down and pull a knife from her boot, straightening up and giving it a twirl to show it off as they venture deeper into the woods.

"I do this kind of thing professionally. You? Not nervous, are you?"

Well, alright. The knife-twirl gets a bit of an impressed smile out of him; she looks like she knows what she's doing with that, at least, so maybe he has nothing to worry about. Ladies are surprising him left and right, lately.

"Do I look nervous? I say let 'em come." He balls his left hand, his vigor hand, into a fist, but that just brings on another semi-nauseating wave. Guns-only, it is, then. "And what kinda profession's that?"

Edited (whoops i can read) 2013-06-15 02:03 (UTC)

"You don't look nervous, but you never know. I've known plenty of guys who were great actors. Kept it together until things got bad, then they fell to pieces." She grins cheekily, clearly teasing -- and enjoying it, too.

"But let 'em come." She watches as he makes that fist, raising an eyebrow. "Hunting," she says simply. "You know Dean, right?" Most people seemed to. He was kind of a difficult presence to ignore. Loud and reckless and all that.

It's been nine days since Clint came back from his painful siesta. He's quickly learning that this crap isn't going to be easy. He's going to need to function around people and know them. Dean and him were in charge of scouting so this was a good way to go about things. They were also going to have to assess the damage done by the the Doctor and his gadget. Clint was really happy he was laid up in bed for that little escape attempt. It seems that it caused quite a bit of ruckus for everyone involved.

When they split up they didn't hesitate to assign partners. This isn't something they can just half ass and pretend like it's dodge ball team picking. They need to be precise and have their shit together. Clint took charge of having Anna with him, but that was mainly because he just didn't trust her. The incident with the attic and the arrows had long since passed, but she didn't seem like someone he could trust. Whatever she was covering up from everyone else wasn't a good thing.

"Come on, red. Let's figure out what's been fucked up?" He's already moving forward. He's pretty sure that Anna can keep up with him. He doesn't really have time to coddle anyone. He's slipped his bow around his body and his quiver full of arrows is on his back. He's ready.

So there are people that are going out that Anna would prefer to be keeping alive and well, but she's got to admit (as grudgingly as it might be) that splitting up is the best idea. It just so happens that she's been landed with her least likely choice, but she's not so worried about herself out here, so it's just details at the end of the day.

Clint though, Clint is fragile whether he knows it or not. She doesn't exactly trust him to have her back in the event that things really do hit the fan, but then again, she doesn't expect she'll really need his help anyway. He's a good shot, that can't be denied, but she's not exactly seeing a whole lot else.

"Have you been out here before?" She should probably check. She tails after him, lagging just short of walking by his side and leaving her angel blade away for now. No need to give everything away just yet. "It's certainly something."

He would much rather be with someone else, but Clint's wariness of Anna beats out his dislike of her. So he's going to stay close and maybe figure out what the hell she is. Not that he expected to get much out of a woman who could withstand multiple arrow wounds, but he can certainly try to talk it out of her. Clint's last line of defense is how big his mouth can be. He can try to chip away at her with his ability to be obnoxious. Anna, beware.

"Sorta. If you count waking up walking around like a zombie in the wounds while you bleed out being out here then yep." He's not trying to be sassy, but it's happening without him really realizing. She has Clint on edge and so it's sort of a defensive tactic he's adopted it. "We still have to talk about it." He's referring to her arrow trick in the attic.

"Ah, you got that treatment too, didn't you." She laughs lightly under her breath as she walks, but it's a bitter little sound. She'd almost forgotten that Clint had been snatched up too - nothing personal, honestly, it's just been a busy couple of weeks what with kidnappings and escape attempts throwing off the regularly scheduled boredom.

But of course he brings up 'it' and her expression tightens a little. It's not that she doesn't want to talk about it, it's just that...well, no that's exactly the problem. She's been so careful around here, keeping things quiet and trusting only a handful of people with that information, and then she went and ruined that all by completely unsubtly appearing in front of someone. Good going there, Anna.

"What is there to talk about?" She's defensive pretty much straight off the bat, but she can't really help it. it was a monumental fuck up on her part, that one, and now she finally has to start dealing with those consequences it seems. "...Have you told anyone about what happened?"

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gather round you friends of mine

for Fun Ghoul

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Brigid and Erik

For River

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For Jo (and Erik at some point?)

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For Anna.

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