RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES // rescue

[Crow Roux]

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To say Crow was pissed would be an understatement; he was well beyond healthy levels of pissed, so much he couldn't think straight for the days following the abduction of Sam, snatched right out of their own town, and who was the obvious culprit? The Pitt, of course. The scent of the jungle-dwelling scum was so overbearing he had choked on it when he first came across the scene of the kidnapping. It could not have been any more telling where she had been taken. The party would approach the camp in silence, and it was ominous how easily they had trespassed—their numbers must have been concentrated at the heart of their dwelling.

"Find Sam," the feline hissed under his breath, a signal for the attack to begin. "An' give 'em hell! I want them beggin' on their knees for mercy!"

[wormwood.]

[glow=#000,1,400]BUT NOW I UNDERSTAND YOU, AND I WILL NOT BE PART OF YOUR DESIGNS — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

Putting this raid together had taken a long time – far too long for Worm's liking, for any of their liking. But now that it was finally on, Wormwood could feel furious energy running through his veins, spurring him onward as he followed behind Crow, his wings pressed in close against his back but ready to launch him into the air. When they finally arrived at the camp, a wicked grin spread over the lion's muzzle, and he flung himself into the air, his wings unfolding and catching onto the wind, lifting him up. He let out a frightening roar of strength, his paws trembling with anger and strength as he practically screamed, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"Rise and shine, Pittian bastards! Time for you to PAY!"[/glow] He tries his best to focus as much attention as possible on himself, knowing full well that he's just a distraction, as many others are, so that Leroy – or anyone else, really ‐ can go and rescue Sam and Beck.

[Pastel]

//track

[selby roux !]

// track uwu

[gregory]

also track cx

[deimos]

/ track for rn, will post later on!

[RED]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]The gears were beginning to turn. Like pieces moving strategically across a chess board, events were falling into place and the rest could be left to fate. Enemies on a battlefield spanned beyond their alliance - no, the enemies here were the individuals whose conflicts could at last be brought to light. Distrusting clanmates and opposing arch-nemeses alike would be subject to the same bloodshed if every chess piece played its turn. Hellboy was not the only one whose decisions would be instrumental here.

The creature has a practiced calmness about him as he moves through the territory. A knife gripped in his fist, he slashes at the underbrush in his path and makes way for his peers who follow close behind. This is routine, to him: perhaps not the setting, nor the circumstances, but it is not the first time he’s charged headfirst into uncharted grounds with naught but a weapon in hand. It certainly isn’t the first time he’s looked an unknown enemy in the eye and challenged it to kill him if it could - nor would it be the last. Like every other so-called suicide mission he’d taken on, his wit and his sledgehammer of a fist would carry him to the finish line.

His thrumming headache and the vague unease in his chest were only an inconvenience. (Fighting with a hangover didn’t exactly lead to peak performance, but even his half-assing was a little more than most mortals were used to.) The focus was on Sam, the girl who’d disappeared with but a bloodstain and claw marks in her wake. Red was hardly the inconspicuous type, thus he’d leave the rescue to his peers; instead his role was to hold the Pitt back and keep their hands tied (or, paws - he was the only one with hands here as far as he was aware). On the other hand, he was thinking of Beck. The child wasn’t exactly a son to him - more like an annoying little brother - but in the short span they’d known one another, his faith in the boy had strengthened. Beck was as reckless as he was a wreck in general. His decisions left much to be desired. His mistakes, at times, leaned towards unforgivable. But the criticism of the ex-leader, a ghost forever locked in that adolescent naivety, led the demon to feel some kind of pity that eventually evolved into hope. Beck needed a friend. Red would be there for him.

So when Beck stopped showing his face, and his house fell locked and silent, Red became worried. Scared, even, for this wasn’t the first time he’d lost someone and he wasn’t quite ready to experience that pain a a third, a fourth time. Crow had mentioned Beck’s absence in passing, while rallying the raiding party - but it was a distant concern, it seemed, at least compared to Sam’s obvious capture. Murphy’s law suggested the worst - and Red wasn’t going to accept that without proof. Beck couldn’t be here. He was stupid sometimes, but not that breed of stupid. He would have said something if he wanted his revenge on The Pitt.

So he's running through the jungle, like some wild thing, and thinking of all the ways Beck and Sam could be killed. The ghost wasn't so easily expelled from the mortal world - but Sam was a living creature, as far as he understood, and her suffering was a tangible thing. The Pitt loved to see blood on their blades, and Sam was a breathing creature with a heartbeat that could deliver that wretched satisfaction. If she wasn't dead already, she was badly hurt, that was for certain. He couldn't begin to consider what had become of Beck. He wouldn't allow himself to think of it.

Red frowns, his expression distant and focused. The knife he'd dubbed the Good Samaritan glints in the flickering sunlight that filters, hazy, through the canopy. It was a weapon built to shield as well as it could puncture: its edge was sharpened to a fine point, fine enough to slash the skin of the monsters he'd conquered in the past, but its spine was a different story. Long, hooked serrations, like arrow points, lined the spine down to its hilt. It was a sword breaker, and just as well as it could snap an attacker's weapon in two with its barbs, it could render a few organs useless with a single, jagged stab. Nobody wanted to get in the way of him - but most Pittians were lucky to have agility and a small stature on their side. Red was after far larger prey.

He flips the blade in his hand and carves a gash into a thick wall of tropical leaves, opening up to a clearing. This was the place - close to the rank scent of their camp, close enough for one lone Tangler to sneak in and save their clanmates. Something buzzes deep within him, and it isn't the nausea of a rough hangover. Like a tense fist, it grips him and shakes hard, begging for release; all of that anger, all of that stress, it could destroy him from the inside if it didn't find its way out. His expression breaks into something colder, something like suppressed fury that makes his pulse roar in his ears and the intricate markings on his grafted hand burn. He'll break a Pittian in two if they so much as breathe in his direction. He'll clear the place if it means getting their friends home alive. He'll die to keep them safe, if that's all there is left to do.

The demon - the monster inside him that he so hated - roars. "Come on!"

[Vathmos]

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VATHMOS

INFORMATION ROLEPLAYER MISC.

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Vathmos wasn't friends with Sam in particular, she thought they had interacted maybe once or twice before her capture. The hyena didn't particularly care, but she was going to get to fight something, finally. She wouldn't have to hold back this time, either. Electricity crackled around her, her fur standing as she took a spot near Wormwood, perferring to use his strength to her advantage.

━ [b]MY SKIN IS A STORY┆LONELY. CLINGY. HATEFUL. ━

[DELILAH.]

Delilah Evergarden
tanglewood | 23 m/o | femme | dark faerie

Tracking since delilah was ordered to stay home.

tags:

basics.
✯ delilah evergarden // deli, lilah, flower girl, pinkie, petals, miss evergarden.
✯ female // she/her
✯ 23 months // mentally mature // spiritually old
✯ tanglewood
- ex-medic
✯ revenant, gatorbait, host
✯ completely blind, has only three legs, usually seen with a hand-made metal prosthetic.
- mental bond with renegadeanthem
- shares body with succubus named lilith

appearance.
✯ maine coon [domesticated feline]
[ref]
✯ slim, feminine maine coon feline with soft pink pastel fur. around her paws is black vine-like markings, and there are darker pink dots on her back. black and pink cherry blossoms constantly flow from her pelt thanks to her aesthetic element. she has pink irises, pale schlera, and slitted magenta pupils. her tail is long and extremely fluffy. her other tail is whip-like, with a heart shaped tip on the tip of it. she has drippy, inky black faerie wings that look more cursed than pure. she has darker colored curved horns on her head that curls around her ears. she still only has three legs.
✯ accessories - grey scarf, satchel.
✯ scars/marks/tattoos - three claw marks over both eyes, whip/claw scars all the way down her back, scar on her left inner front arm, flower branding on her stomach, skull branding on her back left thigh, scar on the corner of her lip, scar marks on her muzzle, she has a large scar across her neck where her throat was previously slit.
✯ accent - Soft, gentle, motherly voice.
✯ phobias - None.

relationships.
✯ best friends with arrow
✯ sisterly affection for morgan
✯ respects leroy
✯ dislikes cosette
✯ mentored by malphas
✯ [G1] titania x oberon [npc's]
- adopted by talia and malkyn
✯ sibling of spica evergarden (f) & kasper evergarden (m).
✯ demisexual heteroromantic
✯ crushing // in love with renegadeanthem [1/2 of deliren]
✯ no children

interaction.
✯ tags // plot
✯ physically below average // mentally hard // x-ray vision, earth elementals, telekinesis, mental bond, mental manipulation, possession, enhanced senses.
✯ attack in underline

© LEXASPERATED

[aine.]

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— aine | the pitt | fae druid —

Fate doesn't discriminate.  The first Pittian to stir at the commotion happened to be the youngest.  Loud voices.  Violent intent.  A pair of hazel hues flash, wide open as she attempts to register what was happening.  The smell... Where had she... 'Yeah, an it says 'You fucked up bitch!'

The crackling of flames fills her ears.  An imaginary enemy.  Teeth catch on the inside of her cheek.  Aine scrambles, finding her paws unsteady in the shock.  No fire.  No fire.  Teeth and claws.  Then she darts, with every ounce of speed she possessed, in no particular direction deeper into camp, just looking for her father.  "DA!"

"Da! Mr. Embry!"

Her little heart flutters erratically in her pure white chest.  Panic bubbling in sharp breathing.  She just had to find her father, or Embry.  They'd protect her.

— I'll come back when you call me —