malnosso | [Locked to Residents]

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malnosso

[Locked to Residents]

[Appearing on the journals is a written message as follows. A voice option is provided for a computerized reading of the text.]

Attention Luceti Residents.

The following names are being called to participate in a strike against the cultist hordes:
[the names listed here appear on the journal.]

All subjects are required to arrive at the tunnels at 8AM on the 27th of March for deployment. All listed individuals are required to be present. Subjects will then be escorted to TERRACE for battle preparation and further details.

Target will be Region One, a former Malnosso stronghold, presently in cultist hands. Subjects are advised to prepare for combat in forested areas. Further information will be made available at TERRACE. Questions and answers will not be provided at this time.

[The Malnosso will not reply to this message, but everyone is free to use this post to discuss among themselves, whether using voice options on the journal or doing action threads.]

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[There's some people he knows on there, sure. But he's not worried about them. They can take care of themselves and hell, he's relieved to not have to go. Who needs that kind of stress in their lives? But then there's Clem. Little Clem.

Dammit.

He goes into the bar, because he knows the announcement of a battle can only be prepared for by lots of drinking, so it's best to be ready to do the bartending gig and serve out drinks to all the poor suckers about to die. Besides, he's got something to ask of Buffy.]

[Are you serious? He still can't hear. How is he supposed to fight when he's this hampered? Bastards.

This is obviously an appropriate situation for this word, as discussed previously with Billy:]

This sucks.

Edited 2013-03-25 17:57 (UTC)

...The buzz was in the air. The undeniable and unavoidable hum that overcame the small town when something had happened. It had only taken a strangely turned sentence from someone else to send Buffy Summers to her journal she kept tucked away from the working mess of the bar-counter. She flipped through the pages. Names. Lots of them. And yet a few remained conspicuously absent. She ruminated on these absences and inclusions as she headed for the back room, for her and Horner's mind were coming to the same conclusion: pre-battle evenings were best entertained through a boozy haze, so she had a few crates to haul out from the far corner.

By the time Jack arrived, she was already two-crates deep into restocking the shelves immediately behind the bar. She peeked at him from where she crouched, not yet bothering to stand up straight. "...Aha. There he is. The de-facto boss. You realize you're the only tender being left behind, right?"

[Derek reads this, counts the number of people going, including himself, frowns.

Frowns again.

Shakes his head.]

Here we go, I guess.

...So who organizes around here when this happens? I'd like to talk to them.

Buffy. She was going, of course. He hadn't realized it'd be just him, but it was hardly a surprise. Frankly, he didn't mind. It would be nice to be in charge. He nodded and gestured to the bar itself with an ironic smile.

"My glorious inheritance. Maybe I'll change the name while you're gone."

"Risk it and I will personally castrate you," she threatened so casually. So calmly. Did she like leaving the place in his hands? No. Not especially. But she also didn't expect him to go ruining it. Horner just wasn't that kind of person.

She filled her arms with wine bottles and stood up.

"It'd grow back."

He hoped it would. Dammit.

"...Seriously?"

She indulged this question with the full weight of her curiousity. Buffy wasn't letting the draft announcement get under her skin. She was determined to be her sassy self.

"What, have you tested this hypothesis?"

The Terrace. TERRACE. At last. [He muses over the difference between simply hearing the term and seeing it properly written out.] This should be interesting.

[But when had drafts ever been uninteresting?]

"Hell no I haven't. Do I look crazy?" Though it occurred to him in some of his more horrific injuries, it may have already happened.

"Anyway, listen. You. You're big on the hero shit, right? Protecting the weak?"

Her witty repartee about just how he looked was abandoned in favour of his description of her, however ill-worded. Her answer was cool: "It's in the job description. Why?"

"You know the kid I picked up? Clem?" He may have mentioned it. May have not. She wasn't really important to mention to women he wasn't going to try and bed. "The suits have her lined up for the big battle."

Clem. Clementine. So that was why the name had looked so familiar, on the list. Buffy had only barely paid attention that one time Jack had mentioned the girl, and she'd certainly never fully filed the name away for future reference. But now, her echoic memory filled the blanks.

"You're asking me to babysit?" She asked, not an ounce of indignation in her voice. She was serious, however flip the words themselves were.

"She's six years old!" Okay, older than that. Whatever. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on her. I told her I'd be the one to do it, but I can't exactly do that from here, can I? So you watch my kid, I watch your bar."

It sounded like a fair exchange in his head.

"Your kid?"

She folded her arms. Oh, Buffy was already on board. She couldn't very well say no to a request like this, could she? But she could at least negotiate the terminology.

"Yeah, I saw her first." That was all it took to become a child's guardian, after all. Dibs.

[And from Garrosh, seeing his name on there... a laugh kehhaahaha!!! And in turns into a growl and finally a loud roar of challenge by the end of it. War was something he excelled in and war was what he was going to make here]

"Kids aren't like front seats. You can't call shotgun."

"Whatever. The kids likes me, alright? So you gotta do your hero thing. Watch out for her."

"...This really begs the question of whether I should be watching out for her now, too."

"You're not the only one I could be asking for this, you know!"

Okay, so she was. He didn't trust anyone. But he distrusted Buffy the least of anyone.

"Cool it, Horner. I won't let her leave my side."

It was a promise she gave quickly. Easily. Surprisingly easy, given what it would mean for her own involvement. No brave advances. No foolish gambits. It would mean sticking close to the least troubled parts of a battlefield. Hopefully. Ideally.

"I'm just surprised to see you playing surrogate. That's all."

[In the beginning when he first arrived in Luceti, he grew concerned over being experimented on and being forced to fight in a war he knew nothing about. He was told to make the best of living here regardless of those things and that's what he tried to do, doing what he can to forget about the inevitable.

Just when he was starting to adapt. Just when things were getting mildly better concerning his homesickness and worries, this happened. Not only are most of the Pokedex Holders forced to get involved, but so is he. An old man, a former Pokemon trainer is now a draftee.]

No...

[His grip on the journal loosens and it falls onto the floor. But he didn't bother picking it back up. He doesn't want to read anymore of what the Malnosso has to say about the Draft. He can't handle the thought of putting his Pokemon in harm's way or seeing the younger trainers get hurt or worse. He's afraid, so very afraid of what will happen once they are deported. He knows he won't be sleeping well tonight or at all, and he doubts everyone else in House 11 will as well.]

Edited 2013-03-25 18:35 (UTC)

He did wonder about that. Sure, he wanted the kid so he could claim he was being responsible. But it was such a weird thing, having someone depending on you and not just because they were a selfish mooch. And he wasn't even getting much out of the deal anyway. He just liked the kid. She thought he was a good guy. Not many people ever thought that.

"It beats playing solitaire. Besides, I figure I ought to get this whole fatherly thing down. In case I end up with more kids. That way I won't have to worry about them trying to kill me."

[ god. it's been...rather a fair stint since she dared to seek out albert's conversation. and that stint should have continued, crammed blissfully with avoidance and lots of other bad habits. after everything that didn't-quite-happen and wasn't-quite-said...

but she has to know: ] You know about it, huh? [ a dry laugh. ] Of course you do.

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