| Never a Boaring Moment |
| Summary: | The rain has stopped, but the celebration is cut dreadfully short. |
| Date: | 1942-07-24 |
| Related: | None. |
| Players: |
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Clinton and Main, Higsi
Mon Jul 24, 1942
After crossing an old concrete bridge over Cobb's Creek, Main Street comes to an end just past an old, run down church and a fishing and hiking supply shop. The concrete road abruptly becomes gravel for a hundred feet before transitioning to a dirt road. Once it's dirt, it makes a sharp turn to the left, becoming the easter end of Clinton Trail and beginning to make its way up the side of Iron Mountain.
Cobb's Creek is deep and slow as it passes beneath Main Street, making this a popular fishing spot for local kids. During the day, there's nearly always a young one sitting with their legs dangling over the edge of the bridge holding a fishing pole and watching the water for a bite.
Weather:
It is summer. The weather is hot and raining.
The rain stopped today, and folks have been celebrating. Some literally, others are taking advantage to get things done. Either way, Higsi has been a rather busy little town today. As the day wore on though, it became apparent that the town is also tired. Weather can do that to a place. So as dusk falls, the pawn shop and garage are both closing down, but The Gallows seems to be picking up steam. Leaky roofs don't stop alcoholics! The bar's lights are on and music from the beat of radio can be heard outside. Besides that though, it's quiet on Clinton and Main.
Greer has been meaning to visit the Gallows, to see if she could make a little extra money performing now and then. The dark-haired woman makes her way down the sidewalk, wrapped in a trench coat just in case the rain resumes, her high heels clicking with every step.
<FS3> Lillie rolls Empath: Success.
A warm meal goes a long way, especially when the weather was garbage and one had to deal with a leaky roof and little money to fix it. Lillie, like clockwork, has maintained a schedule of bringing a warm meal — of her own making and always delicious — to Frank. Usually a couple of times a week. It's the least she can do to help the old bartender who has been so helpful to her… and the bar was the last stop in the Empath's busy day. Most of it was spent looking after one of her elderly charges… a tiring task in it's own right. But worth it. The ceasing of the rainfall has buoyed the young woman's spirits and suddenly the long walk doesn't seem quite so bad.
Lillie stands just outside of the Gallows, the music from within feeling as if it's pounding in her chest. She tilts her head and glances sideward at the sound of clicking heels. Her green eyes observe Greer's approach.
Oh thank Heaven, the rain finally let up. Wolf ventures out without a raincoat for the first time since she got here. Now, of course, it's hot. So she's wearing puffed white blouse, loose at the sleeves and deliciously, almost scandalously open at the collar, over her usual A-line skirt. No stockings. It's that warm, and her last pair is nearing the end of its life. Same old boots. It was that or go barefoot. There's a time and a place for heels. When you're going out to get a drink and might have to move quickly on streets at are a trifle muddy…that's not one of them. She, too, heads toward Gallows. A Smith and Wesson Registered Magnum makes her purse a bit on the heavy side. Worth it. She smiles as she comes close enough to see Lillie and Greer. "Hello."
Greer looks up at the bar's facade and spots Lillie. She gives the girl a red-painted smile. "Miss O'Clery. What has you out this late?" she asks. The added voice has her turning to look at the new arrival and she offers the same smile. "Good evening."
Old man Rogers stumbles out of The Gallows, shouts follow him to get his drunk ass home. He hiccups a few times, swaying slightly as he straightens his crooked shirt and blinks a few times at the gaggle of ladies outside the seedy bar before turning and heading off down the road.
As always, the Empath is well-put-together with her hair pulled back into a dark pile behind her head, cinched off with a green ribbon that very nearly matches her watchful gaze. Her dark brown ladies' raincoat fits just in all the right places, obscuring most of her attire for the evening though some sort of peekaboo lace beneath the line of her coat and slender bare legs, tapering off into pretty flats, points toward some manner of dress. Her cheeks flush a bit, lamenting her own skill with heels and how she walks like a constipated cow in them every-time… and Lillie offers Greer an earnest smile. "Good evening, Miss Butler. Finishing a day of work, I'm about to make my way home now. How are you?" She offers gently, before spying the approach of yet another fetching lady. Her smile doesn't falter as she nods to Wolf. "Hallo miss," She offers, looking between the two. Her sense, 'weak' this evening, flutters around the trio like a butterfly. "Going in to enjoy a drink and some music?"
A pause, as the soused old man stumbles out. Lillie, always watchful of old folks, silences to observe him.
Wolf nods. "I've been in overalls sandbagging most of the week. It's the first time I haven't had a coating of mud before lunch. I am goin' out. And this is as out as Higsi's got, I suppose." She smiles at Lilli, trying to remember her name. She notes Greer as well - it's hard not to. She smiles at both women. "My name's Wolf Laveau."
Greer watches the old drunk with half-lidded eyes, perhaps rethinking performing in the Gallows if that's the extent of their clientele. She doesn't look at Wolf when she introduces herself, keeping her eye on the old man, but replies with "Greer Butler. I am running the movie theater. Tomorrow is opening night."
Rogers ignores the women and starts his long, slow walk home. When did it get so dark out? His eyes widen when he realizes the time and that his wife is going to be furious with him and picks up the pace.
<FS3> Lillie rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Greer rolls Alertness: Failure.
<FS3> Wolf rolls Alertness: Success.
"Lillie O'Clery. A pleasure, Wolf." The young woman with the Irish accent offers, barely even flinching at the unorthodox name for a woman, in this particular day and age. Seriously, what's with her? A tiny glimmer of curiosity in her eyes, but that's the extent of it. Should one know Lillie well, she is unfashionably open-minded. Lillie's smile widens as she glances over a shoulder at the bar's entrance. "Sounds like it's pretty shaken and stirred, already… I just came out." She glances toward the departing old man again. "Already some…. pickling going on. The drinks are good—-"
To Greer, eyes alight with excitement. "Oh, brilliant! I can't wait!" She exclaims, giving the starlet another hit of sweetness before watching the old man trying to pick up the pace. Worry etches into her eyes.
Wolf raises an eyebrow. "I'd not yet noticed we don't have one. That's very good news. Congratulations." It's wartime. Of course running a theater isn't a job that requires… well someone especially tall, or especially strong, or… all the other things men do well. Wolf secretly marvels at Greer's success.
"Yes, well, if the weather holds out, I expect a decent turn out. If not, well, there isn't anything else to do in Higsby on a rainy night, so maybe it will be even better." Greer smirks faintly at that, looking between the two women. "The premiere is a party of sorts. Seventy-five cent admission gets you some cocktails, and snacks, plus popcorn and soda to bring into the theater. There will be games and raffles and the like as well."
Lillie picks up on it first, maybe there's some residual stuff she's picking up. But the Wolf as well can feel rumbling coming up from the ground. Almost like thunder without noise. And then the noise, a pounding on the earth quickly fills the quiet dusk evening. Old man Rogers doesn't notice, he's too worried about angering his wife.
"I will be there with bells on." Lillie says, gaze flitting to Greer and settling meaningfully for a moment before moving back to the old man as he stumbles along. What if he trips and breaks something? Always the bleeding heart, Lillie; she needn't a strong sense to surmise when something is amiss. This case, it's too much booze and bad time management. In her diner days, Lillie looked after Mrs. Rogers… who becomes a real harpy when timing is off. Poor old boy. "Please pardon me, I'm going to see if he's alright…" She trails off, looking between Wolf and Greer apologetically. She seems a bit hesitant… the sole of her foot scuffs as she considers something, brow furrowing. What is that sound….? That sensation?
"P—please excuse me." Suddenly the Empath is jogging after the drunken old man, her hair bouncing behind her.
Wolf is about to comment on the price of the theater night, but the ground moves under her feet. Instantly alert, she crouches down to set one hand on the ground and feel it more carefully, and to scan the area, looking for the source. Could be an earthquake…or a sinkhole with all the water. She slings her purse across her body and prepares to move. Quickly.
Suddenly everyone is moving away and Greer just stands there blinking after Lillie and Wolf. She doesn't hear anything, perhaps to tuned to the sounds from inside the Gallows. "Seven PM, don't be late!"
<FS3> Lillie rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Greer rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Wolf rolls Alertness: Failure.
Sink hole (ha)? Earthquake? Oh no. It's nothing like that. This may be worse. Breaking from a wooded area, a terrible wall of noise approaches. Dust and rocks skitter as they're kicked up. Those that notice can hear in the mix deep grunts and snorts, there is something alive in that dust cloud, headed their way. Mr. Rogers notices something (how could he not?), his head snaps up, "What in the hell?" He doesn't move just stands there staring.
<FS3> Lillie rolls Clairvoyant: Good Success.
<FS3> Wolf rolls Occult: Good Success.
Oh, Lillie sees it, hears it, feels it… there is a powerful feeling of wrongness that practically nails her in the guts, seconds before that terrible sound and action arises from the dark line of the woods. It's abrupt enough to make her wince and in these precious seconds, she comes to the old man's side. The dust cloud, on the approach and brimming with that wrongness, suddenly has Lillie frantic. "Get out of the way! Get away from it!" She shrieks.. to the other ladies? To Old man Rogers? The rage is indescribable, familiar, rending and rampaging. Snapping and lashing with abandon and little direction. Lillie grabs the drunken man's arm and yanks hard. "Come on—" She begs, and starts trying to drag him along a little further, toward the old wreck of the church. He's too slow, too clumsy… somewhere in the frantic movement he breaks away from Lillie and she is darting off for safety without him, away from the cloud.
"What in the world?" Greer voices at the sights and sounds of the oncoming dust cloud. She takes off after Lillie, towards the old church, because the girl seems to have some idea of what is going on. Amazingly, she can run in those heels. SPY TRAINING YO!
Wolf doesn't have to be told twice. It could be a spell, mucking with the weather or somesuch. Or it could be some…thing. Either way, it's a great place not to be. She follows Greer and Lillie toward the church. What could possibly go wrong?
The animalistic noises become loud enough for everyone to hear now, the dust spreads out enough for anyone paying attention to start to make out several shapes in it. Several large shapes… and they are moving fast and down the road, towards Mr. Rogers. Lillie will make it to the church, hopefully the shapes will not turn that way. As for the other two ladies, they'll have to see…
Mr. Rogers may have had too much to drink, and Lillie coming out of nowhere and spinning him around didn't help. He's out of sorts and sways, trying to understand what's happening as the cloud descends on him.
The young woman is only dimly aware as she barrels into the ramshackle front yardage of the abandoned church that the old man didn't come with her. She just caught sight of him swaying and spinning before her wide, horrified eyes observe the cloud descending upon him. "N-no.." She chokes out, nearly dropping down to her knees beside the crumbling stairs but catching herself, looking desperately in the direction of Wolf and Greer and hoping, hoping hoping that they make it okay. Her palm tingles, the one that grabbed at Mr. Rogers, and that very hand begins to shake. She looks upon the cloud again.. those awful sounds… her hands reach up to press into her temples as her sense — her empathy, however weak tonight — begins to burgeon with the rage that her mind is trying desperately to filter.
"What IS that!?" Greer shouts towards Lillie as she runs for the church, glancing back at the cloud in horror. Her spells would all take too long to get the old man to safety; there is nothing she can do.
Wolf isn't that far clear of the road, though out of the way of the things. There's a snarl on her face that belongs on an altogether different visage. She does the insane thing. She stops. Flips open the buckle of her purse, and draws the Smith and Wesson out, trying to find a shot where she can hit an animal and not hit the man. Probably special rounds are in order, but she only just got this thing (and its twin) while she was in Chicago. All she has for it is lead.
<FS3> Wolf rolls Firearms -3: Failure.
<FS3> Lillie rolls Alertness: Failure.
<FS3> Wolf rolls Alertness+1: Good Success.
<FS3> Greer rolls Alertness: Failure.
There's a lot of noises happening at once. Snorts, grunts, hooves (hooves?!?!), an old man scream, and then a gun shot. Although thankfully (?) the scream happened before the shot was taken. Wolf's sharp eyes can make out more of the shapes, they seem to be huge, moving on 4 legs. The grunts and snorts are starting to sound a lot like hogs, but hits don't grown this big….do they? The herd (dust cloud) starts to move down the road, no sign of the old man just yet.
"Beastly, angry…" Lillie spits out, trying to answer Greer. "It.. they're so angry that they can't control it. Unfocused…" She falters again, the swarm of emotions is so potent; the vileness in the air, it's cloying. It begins to throb in Lillie's head with the swift revulsion, like a body's allergic reaction. The sounds are the worst; she cannot focus easily upon what is happening in the cloud itself because she's so busy trying to keep her mind level. She squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds and inhales deeply, shakily; in time, fearfully, she tries to focus back upon the dust cloud, her heart pounding for the old man who seemed to have been caught up amidst it.
Wolf takes the shot into the cloud and hits some of the empty space between man, hell-hogs, or whatever they are. Being that this is a .357 magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world in 1942, that bullet sure tears up nothing vigorously, on its way to soft landing somewhere out thataway. It's Wolf's first shot with the thing too. "Damn," she says softly, trying to find a target before the beasts run off down the road and cause mayhem…or disappear…or whatever they do. She doesn't fire again. Just puts the pistol back in her purse and buckles it closed, watching the things go, and looking around for the next wave… or the source.
Greer looks at Lillie with sharp eyes, because the girl is mumbling nonsense unless, there is more to her than meets the eye. She stops in the church yard, feeling helpless. She has power, but none of it is available to her like this. Witchcraft has its limitations.
The herd moves, although there's one straggler, clearly a younger boar (although he's still huge, easily 250 pounds), who's snorting at the ground where there's a mud puddle. It screams when it realizes it's being left behind and rushes past the body of poor Mr. Rogers who is eerily still. This all happened so fast, the music from the Gallows is still playing although the buzz of talking has stopped.
Ah, who knows with Miss O'Clery. Her eyes sure don't look maddened. There's conscious, sharp thought going on behind her fixed stare as everything unfolds and she seems to be tuned into 'something'. Touch her and her skin is warm, lean muscle vibrating in spots like a lissome little tuning fork. Her large, dark eyes affix to the lone boar that has been left behind, incredulously mucking it up near a mud puddle before shrieking and running along after the herd…. herd. She sees the prone body of old man Rogers and stands slowly, lips a grim flat line, eyes shiny.
Wolf keeps that purse close. She walks over to the old man, warily, watching the road in both directions, expecting him to be dead, gored, squashed, who knows what. She makes mental notes. Sniff around Mr. Rogers' home. Anyone who can summon that when they're mad is someone not to be trifled with. Or suffered to live, if Wolf's suspicions are correct.
Greer sees the prone figure and she lets out a quiet, "Oh no…" before she begins rushing over that way to see if there is anything that could be done. "Lillie! Can you ask Frank to fetch a doctor!?" She kneels down beside the old man.
A very loan moan is heard from Mr. Rogers, although it could be a death rattle for all these ladies know!
Don't have to tell Lillie twice to seek help. Greer goes to join Wolf near the old man's form and the Empath moves away from the church, running with swift staccato steps toward the Gallows. She throws open the door, the blaring music filling the street with ironic, upbeat sounds. Patrons shall be treated to the sight of the Irish woman, eyes wide and brilliant with flowing tears. "W-we need a doctor! Somebody call a Doctor…! Frank!?" She cries out desperately for the bartender, making an overall fuss for someone to get help. To come help. Anything!!
Greer pulls off her trench, revealing a scandalously low cut black dress beneath. She balls up the coat and puts it under Mr. Rogers head carefully. She hasn't a clue what else to do. "Don't try to move," she advises the old man. "A doctor is coming." She hopes. There are rituals to heal, but they're dark magic, and well beyond her ability.
Wolf says, "Just… breathe." She drops to one knee and looks for blood leaking out someplace. That, at least, she can figure out what to do about. She looks down at Mr. Rogers, and takes one of his hands. "Who did this to you?" Her instincts are screaming "witch!" Her heart is in her throat. Demons are one thing. Kill you, yes, take you to hell, yes, not that she's likely to wind up anywhere else even if she dies in her sleep. But witches are different. They cut to the core of who she is. Her personal fear, her personal hate, a class of person so far beyond her sympathy that she doesn't bother remembering how many witch cases she's worked, and how many borrowers she's sent to their master. The hunger for another is always there. "Who did this to you?" she asks again, more urgently. "Don't die…tell me who did this.""
Frank was already at the door when Lillie burst in, shotgun in hand. He barks some orders at some people, to call a medic before barging out to see what the hell happened. In fact, "What the hell happened?" The old man's face turns more sour when he sees the other man on the ground, "Oh damn it all…"
Mr. Rogers is breathing, but it's shallow and moving him will probably not do him well. He's bleeding from several places, and bruises are already starting to form all over the old man's body. His eyes are open, but he doesn't seem to be focused on anything particular.
The Empath follows along after Frank once the word is out — and acknowledged — to call for a medic. Frank's bellowed question over what happened is met with silence for a time on Lillie's part, her lips quivering a bit as she keeps herself under control. Now that the dust has literally settled, she can start thinking on what went down. Replaying it all in her head. Now there's the guilt: did she startle old man into faltering? Swaying? Stumbling, only to be caught up? She moves in closer, eyes streaming but no sound coming from her mouth. Please don't die.. please, no.
Greer frowns at Wolf. "The man was just trampled by wild boar. I don't think he's going to be able to tell anyone more than that," she notes and looks relieved when Frank arrives. "Mister Russel, they came out of nowhere. There was just no time," she explains. "I'll go get a blanket to cover him," she states, before standing and walking off.
Wolf looks at Greer's receding form. Perhaps a little longer than she intended. "Yeah…" She looks back down at Mr. Rogers. "Yeah. Could be bad luck." She doesn't sound convinced.
Frank isn't happy, although to be fair, Mr. Rogers is probably more unhappy. "Go get the blanket. Keep talking to him…" He's already eyeing the road, possibly trying to figure out where they went. "Once Doc Styne gets here, I'll see you all home." That's said with a measure of authority. Frank's not a man to be argued with. Especially if there's trample things out there! He turns back and yells towards the bar, "Gallows is closed. Pay up and go home!" Damn it, there goes the nights coin. He's never going to get that roof fixed.
The Empath's eyes move from Mr. Rogers, to Wolf, and finally to Frank to settle fully upon him. His displeasure wheedles it's way into her mind insistently, strongly. The older man may very well know 'this look' in Lillie by now; she's percolating with some awareness. A small hand lifts to flick some moisture away from her chin, the pad of a thumb rubbing tears from her lashes. She keeps it together and knows that blubbering and trembling won't do much good. She goes on watching Frank as he takes charge, only to kneel beside the old man and press a palm to the side of his face. "Stay awake, stay with us." There she is, voice calm and accent lilting. "This will all be figured out, but you need to stay awake Mr. Rogers." Lillie continues with that soft albeit troubled cadence, waiting for Greer to return with the blanket so she may work to help spread it over him.