etrayalogs | December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

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December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

WHO: Barnabas, his Behemoth (the monster, not the, oh nevermind--), and YOU!
WHEN: All through December baby!
WHERE: Mostly Stonhyrr, but some threads could be elsewhere too!
WHAT: Oh you know, big ol' fortress showed up, there's also a giant muscle cat, maybe people wanna see the fortress. Maybe they're gonna get mauled by a cat. The world is our oyster. Also going to use this for general purpose threads, doesn't have to be Behemoth related!
NOTES\WARNINGS: Will update as necessary!

While Barnabas has never proven himself the social sort, ever intending to remain as such, when people come to Stonhyrr to inspect it, they will not necessarily find him there to greet them. This does not mean that Barnabas is not within the bounds of Stonhyrr, he most assuredly is, but he has no interest in playing host. That is, unless he is given reason to.

What most will find is a singular bridge that connects the imposing fortress to the mainland, and the waters around it prove unnaturally violent. As if the very place itself causes the waters to churn and clash wildly against the jagged rocks which act as the foundation for the whole thing. The bridge is wide enough to adequately fit a pair of carriages, or cars if that better serves. The stone is sturdy, so there isn't any worry about weight being an issue. Most certainly not when one arrives at the arena that acts as a mid-point for the bridge.

There are no guard rails around it as the bridge possesses otherwise, just a sheer drop off into the treacherous waters below. Certainly a poor fate to any, whether they survive the fall or not. A fate all the more possible given the snow and bits of ice that has accumulated upon the structure. Even furthering the difficulty to avoid it, should they find themselves greeted by the bridge's guard: the Behemoth. From its rocky perch it will land with the grace of a feline, but with the impressive force of a creature befitting its size. More than twice the height of an elephant, and thrice as wide, the hulking beast will stare down the interloper(s) with murderous intent. Intent it means to make good on.

However, not everyone who crosses the bridge will meet the beast there, and should they find themselves able to make it to Stonhyrr proper, getting through the metal gates and into the winding outer paths that encircle the central castle, they will find it depressingly...empty. What living quarters there seems to be are indeed stocked with beds and linens, oddly enough, but as all else in Etraya that is not inhabited by those whisked away from their homeworlds, there is no one. They are modest, however, what one might expect for those living as communal soldiers in a medieval era.

Though, should they linger for too long, they might hear the telling breaths and foot steps of a prowling beast searching for the scent its picked up. Perhaps hiding isn't a terrible option, but who knows how much the creature cares about the architectural integrity of whatever part of the fortress they're in! Only one way to find out.

Some of the internal buildings are not merely for housing soldiers or weaponry (though said weaponry is distinctly missing presently). One may find themselves stumbling upon an podium of some sort, with six-legged horse statues on either side. The shape of the room almost suggests an arena of sorts, and the podium seems to embolden this suggestion. Perhaps it might have been a room to judge contests of combat and the like. Who is to really say? Should one linger here overlong, they might find themselves no longer alone. At least, they certainly feel as though someone is in the room with them. Someone watching them, perhaps from the shadows, or from above...

Those lucky enough to make it to the docks will find them bereft of any ships of any kind. It's clear that there probably should be some, but whoever brought this fortress in clearly did not bring any of his ships along! Though, one might take an interest in the surrounding area, and the structures nearby. Most will be empty, some with myriad things like rope, or scant pieces of wood, perhaps an empty crate or two, but it is, like most else, otherwise hollow. There are more of those weird horse statues though... The place is anything but bereft of them.

If it weren't for the behemoth prints left in the snow throughout the wide outer paths of the fortress, and its eagerness to find (and remove) intruders, the place would otherwise seem completely abandoned. Between the snow, angry waters, flashes of lightning, and claps of thunder...the place is cold, oppressive, and desolate. Should one find a way to reach the entrance to the castle, they will be stopped short from reaching the door proper. Not by the behemoth, but by the sudden emergence of Barnabas himself. A billowing pillar of black mist will form from the ground, reaching roughly the height of a man, before Barnabas takes form and the mist disperses and dissipates.

There he will stand, staring down the intruder, waiting for an explanation.

(ooc: Feel free to place your character wherever around Stonhyrr, not only just the places mentioned. Barnabas will keep an eye on any aerial intruders as well (he can also fly). Just date your top level for when this is happening, and if you wanna plot something specific or have any questions, please do not hesitate to hit me up at

Zornsable or on Discord(Zanono)! Feel free to have your own threads here too if multiple people are wanting to explore the grounds of the fortress (just specify in the subject line), I can provide information, a kitty, or an old man should it be needed! Anyway, enjoy this weird haunted-ass looking place, it sucks!

I will match style, prose or action are both good ✨)

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I CaN't teLL wHAT YOU're sayING.

[ Vincent sneers back which sounds extra nasally due to his cold. ]

She? [ He blinks and twists himself around to stare at the door. His eyes narrow as a look of distrust washes over his expression. ] She's still Heathcliff.

[ His chin lifts. ] Maybe. That might make things easier. [ An honest reply since he has a small debt that still needs to be repaid. He clicks his tongue. ]

Yes. Can my intruder get sick?!

[If Idunn hasn’t eaten him, he can’t be all bad, maybe.]

If she likes being called Heathcliff, I’m not about to stop you, I suppose.

[Cid looks at him like he’s got a poorly healed skull-caving sort of headwound. Mild surprise and disgust melts into pity. Slapping him across the mouth wouldn’t do either of them any good. ]

I doubt it. Never really got sick much, just a bit as a boy.

Your intruder’s got a name. I’m Cid.

[His eyes linger on that fire hazard rat’s nest of a bed on the floor]

Does anyone else know you’re out here?

[And does anyone care? ]

Good because I'm not about to listen.

[ He crosses his arms as best as he can with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Again, he clicks his tongue and looks disappointed that he can't get Cid sick either. Why do people who are incapable of getting ill continue to appear before him. ]

Vincent. Don't forget it.

[ A wheezing reply but a reply nonetheless. Another click of the tongue as he shuffles past Cid to dig through the plastic bag on the ground. A bottle of water is produced. It's already half-drunk; twisting the top, he drinks some more to help his throat so he can keep speaking. ]

Why are you curious? Are you planning on killing me?

[ The spray bottle is next to the plastic bag, and he really has nothing else he can grab to defend himself, so he can only grumble along. ]

Go ahead! I'll come back and claim this place either way!

[He already made such an impression. It would be hard to forget, even if he wanted to. ]

As compelling of an argument as you make for just that, I’m not really interested in senseless bloodshed. As unlikely as it seems that you have friends being the miserable prick that you are- I was wondering if anyone might take care of you.

[Since he was doing a shitty job of it so far.]

Though it seems like you’re here for the exact opposite. Why is that?

Great.

[ His voice sounds marginally better and he drinks the rest of his water. As far as the question goes, he bounces his shoulders in a quick shrug. The very idea that someone would take care of him is more of a detriment to his health than anything else. ]

I have no one. [ It's the answer he gives to these sorts of questions. Certainly, there are people from his world, but he wouldn't rely on any of them to do anything for him nor would he allow them to know how weak he feels. If anything, he's more antagonistic on the shared network to indicate how much worse his mood and personality have gotten whilst sick. The best deterrent to keeping others away.

His eyes drift to Cid - or so he thought!

Another pause to drink more water but the bottle is empty. ]

Oh, are you curious about my life story? [ He stares at the empty bottle in his hand before he tosses it in the man's direction. It swings wide and bounces harmlessly on the floor. He'll have to pick that up later and he sighs. ]

Whatever this is started from a young age, then?

[He makes an open palmed, circling gesture at Vincent, to indicate “whatever this is”. He turns, about to leave, but something bothers him.]

You’re an awfully strange pick for a man meant to vie for the salvation of your world.

[ His face briefly twists in frustration as the question rhetorical or not can only be answered in the affirmative. So, since it can only be answered with a yes, he refuses to respond to it.

As for the other comment, he responds: ] Yes? And?

Why does his Majesty tolerate you within his castle walls?

[He really can’t figure it out, but maybe this guy will blab it on his own.]

What do you mean?

[ Vincent pauses to cough; it takes a second but he's composed again. ]

I told him I was living here and to not be an irritating neighbor. I intend not to be irritating, as well, so that's all that needed to be said.

You’ve got audacity, that’s for certain. Like being scolded by the kitchen mice…

[He shakes his head.]

Well. You must have your reasons for eschewing the communal housing and avoiding others. I’ll leave you to it.

What was that? Scolded by -- !!

[ Well, that's quite enough, isn't it?

With as much gusto as he can, he storms over - crossing the short distance between them. He thrusts his finger into Cid's face. ]

Listen here! You come into my home and bluster on like you know anything! Do I have to keep hearing the nonsense of an outsider? What do you know about faith?! About veneration to something more than yourself?!

[ Simply saying he dislikes all of them sounds like a child's complaint - but he can't say he hates them. He doesn't even hate Cid. Dislike greatly, but hate? Even this can't be considered more than a slight. But it's a slight he won't stand. ]

A lunatic would say you're a heathen destined for Hell, but I'm not like that! It's not up to me to decide where you're bound! But -- [ And he starts coughing and has to sit down where he stands. Four days with a nasty cold, he should be doing better but he keeps riling himself up and making his situation worse. Whatever!

He stares up at him in quiet fury. ] -- even like this, I'm doing better than you.

[He steps back to make room between Vincent’s finger, which had been god knows where, and his face.]

[He talks about lunatics like he isn’t one. Then again, lunatics could only hold it is for so long, huh.]

Well, I think I understand a bit better. [Of course it was going to be pity.]

I doubt it.

[ He wheezes but he breathes heavily for a bit, settling his coughing and breathing down.

When the man goes, he'll probably go out to complain to Heathcliff about it. ]

I understand enough.

[He gestures, palm towards the floor in a circular motion.]

He doesn’t view you as a threat. And as we are all expected to be on our best behavior here, he likely does not see it as worth his time to kill you.

I wonder if you know that, though?

You must think I'm stupid.

[ Well, he already said as much already. ]

I've never been worth killing.

[ He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. ]

What's the point in killing a weak person? You don't even feel good about it after.

[ Vincent shuffles away back to lie down in his makeshift bed. ]

Well, if they’re sufficiently annoying for one thing- [He mutters under his breath.]

Killing people stronger than you doesn’t feel good either. …Have you ever actually killed anyone?

[He more meant Barnabas would be doing the killing, but while they were on the topic. ]

[ His hand flicks to the side to indicate he doesn't believe that nonsense. ]

I'm a priest. I've never killed anyone.

[ Plopping down, he wraps himself up in the blankets - but remains sitting, at least. ]

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December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

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