Kenneth crushes the talisman in his hand as the beast starts to swing the bench at him, raising his arm in a practiced manner even as the magic activates, the wire twisting and wrapping around his hand into a perfect match for the steel and bronze basket hilt more familiar to him than his own family... He almost finishes his parry be empty-handed before he suddenly feels whole again, the missing sliver of his link to his goddess' power, the missing sliver of his own soul appears, the Claighbeag singing through the air to knock the heavy bench away from himself.
"Aye, you werenae expecting that with your wee little beast-brain.."
He turns the parry into a riposte, lunging forward with the blade, smirking, "And I'm thinking you willnae much like this, either," as the sword ignites, suddenly WREATHED IN RIGHTEOUS FLAME.
"You girls are FULL of surprises today!" Danny can't help but grin at the various sights happening at full speed around him. The shapely leg of one twin flashing in front of his face in a high kick for starters, and the cool magic jade armor spell for another.
"Ladies. That is the OPPOSITE of getting out of here! THAT is the kind of thing that makes 'daddy' angry. At me! (Like it's MY fault!)" Danny grumbles.
"Still, really cool." He smirks with a wink at Lin.
Oooo! THAT'S gonna leave a mark!" Danny clucks his tongue in mock-sympathy at the Fomor who argued with Danny's illusory wall. And lost.
"What can I say? When I'm good, I'm REALLY good. But when I'm bad I'm better!"
"No worries girls. WE got this!" Danny says with a nod at the monks joining the fray. But his smirk indicates he wasn't talking about the monks,... exactly.
Danny launches into an enthusiastic rendition of 'Everybody was Kung-Fu Fighting!' at about twice the tempo the song has ever been sung. Danny's mellow voice ringing out in a pop-rockabilly croon that evokes more Jackie Chan than Bruce Lee.
From between the vendor stalls swarms more staff-wielding monks. A LOT more. They flow around and over the Fomor nearest Danny, the twins and the original monks, attacking the fish-men swiftly and without fear.
Zone A - Carousel R3
NPC's / Aspects: Weird Carnie Carousel, Maypole
PC's: Sal
The eerie jarring music of the carousel seems to compliment the screams in the park, with it's rough old-fashioned music. Upon the spinning boards the bowler hatted carnie holds onto the stanchions leaning out, a Rictus grin upon his visage at the conflict unfurling. Those children and parents on the ride, seemingly taking no notice of what else is going on.
These thoughts flicker through Sals mind, strangely incongruous as is the like when the veteran is under fire. Fists of the stocky monster smash against the sides of his comrade with a wet sticky crunching sound, as Sal dodges out of the way.
It raises it's fist, with splinters of rib the size of a pen sticking out, just as Sal brings up her Eagle and focusses it upon the black eye. There's the dull roar of the pistol, echoing against the backdrop of a kaleidoscope of chaos.
Eye of the creature becomes a void, sightless, still, hollow and pitch. As Sals shot takes it straight and true into it's ocular cavity. It slumps to the ground, utterly dead.
Zone B - Beer Stalls R3
NPC's / Aspects: Min & Lin, Mead Monks, MORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR
PC's: Danny
Lin grabs Min from off the floor with a soft mutter; "You've put on a bit of weight with all your training sis." She jokes softly, trying to keep the concern out of her voice as she drags her barely conscious sister back towards the tent of mead.
Flying past them are the cavalcade of 'Monks', their traditional Eastern garb in contrast to the pair of Benedictine Monks who currently are engaged. They look at each other and move to the offensive, hoping that the damaged fey-wall & Buddists will help.
;
The Benedictines battle one of the 'Vikings' in a traditional recreation of the Dark Ages, however due to the illusions of the Musician, Danny, they fare alot better than their ancient brethren.
Whilst the victorious Viking, roaring after defeating Min throws fists and punches at the 'kung-fu monks', the shadow warriors battle hard - but seem to go flying as his powerful blows throw them far and wide. But the shear numbers of the fey-formed illusions prove enough to stop the creature from doing any harm.
After smashing into, or maybe just through, the wall the final muscled madman has his eyes set on the guitar wielding Danny. Eyes focussing directly against him, it starts a lumbering movement.... however Danny is soon flanked by the saffron & jade robed monks who surge forwards as a wave to meet the charge. Arms flying all over the place, fists kicking out the creature lets out a roar of frustration - it's soft singing quarry seems to be denied to it... for the time being.
Zone C - Picnic Area R3
NPC's / Aspects: Mr & Mrs Miller, PICNIC PANIC
PC's: Edwyn
"What are you?" The beast asks as Edwyn takes the blow but still carries on. Mrs Millers eyes widen as she looks to her 'saviour' then there's a hint of recognition and familiarity that crosses her visage. Still holding the woman in a firemans carry, the viking attempts to roll with the blow.
Upon the wide shoulders, the woman stops struggling for a moment whilst her mouth opens to say something that's lost in the racket of the ongoing violence. She gasps softly as her eyes loose focus.
Edwyn feels a surge of exhilaration flow through his limbs, an artificial burst of something more than adrenaline - something more powerful, but artificial. However the viking lunges with a headbutt to the Investigator.
The second creature; manhandles Mr Miller and opens it's jaws, seemingly more of a maw filled with razor sharp teeth. It grabs the struggling mans head in one meaty hand encompassing the whole thing and twists it slightly as it exhales at him. Mr Miller slumps like a ragdoll in it's grip.
The final of the trio; looks to Edwyn then around at the chaos - seemingly delighting in it. The pain of a family's delightful day-out ruined, a father with a broken leg his daughter clinging to him crying, a mother hastily dragging a baby away from the waterfront haphazardly knocking over the pushchair. A young man who's dived into the river to try and get away from the violence struggles against the current.
Upon this sight, the creature lets out a vicious roar of triumph at the carnage - it resonates around and seems to enhance the terror of the visitors.
Zone D - Artistic Entrance R3
NPC's / Aspects: Sven Olaffson, WPC Laura
PC's: Kenneth
The swing is parried away by Kenneth, when he contacts the bench the power sends pin-pricks of pain up his arm at the shear force of the blow. Certainly these beastly beings have strength on an unhuman scale, it's not the first time the Celtic hero has fought against such powerful beings.
And the parry disrupts the momentum of the barrel chested creature, virtually spinning him around whilst the bench smashes into the flagged pavement and splinters. Having calculated the motion, Kenneth realises his opponent is wide open and lunges towards the monsters chest.
It looks down at it's chest where the flaming traditional Scottish weapon has pierced it's thorax, lets out a throaty roar of pain to the heavens. Vibrating into a deep rumbling, the wide open mouth breathes fire. The holy power burns up his oesophagus, turning the fomor into a roman candle. Even after the blade is removed the creature keeps burning with a deep rumbling scream.
It finally collapses into a heap, revealing behind it the creature that took Brigit's arrow to his chest. A charred circle the size of a pizza still lightly burns against the wide monster, making it appear even more inhuman.
The injured fomor (ZD1), having taken the first blow heavily looks at Kenneth with black iris' and a look of recognition - and hatred. "One of the Tuatha Dé Danann's scions, how I'll enjoy breaking you!" it growls, spitting out of it's shark teeth where it clatters heavily on the ground.
It dives forwards into a charge, it's arms swinging low in a rugby tackle aiming to try and smash the knees of the Herald.
From across the paved area, there's a large rumbling laugh as the muscled blonde artist engages the creature with a smile. The bear-hug brings out the lean but heavy muscles of the young man, whilst the light in his eyes give him a childlike exuberance. "I've got this jötunn..." He chuckles, smashing his head into the coarse face of the creature.
Whilst Laura continues getting the people out of the park and onto the road outside, the commotion increases - getting worse when her airwave radio explodes due to the amount of magic being thrown around. She throws it to the ground in frustration, but continues haranguing the public into behaving like humans. In the distance there's the sound of the emergency services....
So... Sal takes the third fomor, leaving the Zone free of them.
Min & Lin are relatively safe, the 2 real monks are duelling theirs & 1 is near Danny... but hasn't attacked due to illusion.
Edwin hit his fomor, however he has to make a Fists/Athletics/weapon needing >1, also a Discipline/Conviction roll of 0+ due to the mental (sonic) attack.
Kenneth, sorry if it wasn't clear you needed greater than a 2 for the defence: thus you'd take a 4 stress hit (unless you spend an FP). However you utterly destroy 1 of the Fomor, since it bypassed their catch.
But it's enraged the other injured fomor, thus a Weapon/Fists/Athletics for a greater than 5; or you'll be hit again.
ZA2: 7-1+3 = 9 this takes it out.
ZA3: 5-0+3 = 8 this takes it out.
ZB1: Duelling with monks 2 stress hit
ZB2: Hits Min, takes 5-4+3-1= 3 stress hit.
ZB3:
Min: takes 2-1+6 = 7 stress hit. Major Consequence(broken shin) & 1 stress.
Lin: Takes 2 mental hit. (weapon:3 spell)
ZC1: Grapples Mrs Millier 2-2+1-1=1 stress hit.
ZC2:
ZC3:
ZD1:6-5+4-1 = 4 stress hit
ZD2: 6-4+3-1 = 3 stress; 3-1+3=5 stress by passing catch takes it out.
ZD3: Grappling Balder
"A dead man," Edwyn replies sardonically as his fist connects, sending a shock through his arm. At this point, it was not very surprising that the thing was able to talk. Unfortunately, that told him precious little about just what the thing is. Even now, that bit irked him somewhat - the detective in him liked knowing things. As it turns out, it is that same side of him that senses something unmistakably familiar in Mrs. Miller.
Equal parts confusion and elation fill Edwyn's body... along with an inexplicable surge of something. For an instant the constant ticking in the back of his head is overtaken by the familiar sound of his own heartbeat, something he thought would be gone for good. He felt alive, no, better than alive. The viking's sudden charge interrupts his thoughts, but this time, Edwyn is more than ready.
He lunges to the side, the creature's own momentum making its headbutt miss by a fair margin. His mouth stretches into a grimace as another of the creatures screams, a reminder that there were two more of the damned things. He brushes it off, along with the more human of the screams, the ongoing cries of panic and terror. With the creature imbalances and still burdened by Mrs. Miller, Edwyn scrambles forward to go for a cheap shot. Not knowing his own strength, he grabs one side of the creature's head and drives his fist into the other.
Kenneth winces as the energy of the parry vibrates up his arm, twisting his limbs into an unnatural position, leaving him with a TWISTED WRIST.
Kenneth watches the formor burn even as part of his mind recoils at the unnatural way these things burn... and the rest of it focuses on bringing up his blade to knock away the beast's fists.
Using all his skill, and a little luck, the bard turns the savage attack away...barely.... Lady! These things are as terrible as I've heard.. Tae keep attacking, e'en with a blasted hole through his chest! Best be careful.... He grabs his Crasg Brìghde, hand closing around the cross as he whispers, "Mailleach", and the Fire of the Forge bursts from him, the small flames hardening into tiny rings, forming a burning coat of mail... and burning away his injury as it does.
Danny raised an eyebrow at the twins banter. If either of the girls ad gained any weight, HE certainly hadn't noticed. And then he admitted to himself that he had been looking.
What? They're cute!
Danny's small smirk fades as the large Fomor facing him meets his eyes. Danny blinks first, NOT wanting to get into a soul-gaze with one of these if he has any choice in the matter. The illusory Eastern monks form their own wall, preventing the Fomor, (Creature? Monster? Escapee from a Lovecraft story? All of the above?!?) from attacking the singer directly. For now.
Danny intends to keep it that way.
Danny is good, (Just ask him, he'll tell you. He's not shy. Really.) But even he can only keep so many lyrics going through his head at once. He allows his damaged illusory wall to fade, idly noting as it does so that instead of fading away like smoke, as his illusions used to do, some of it actually turns into ectoplasm before rapidly evaporating into nothing. Danny files that fact away to worry about when something isn't trying to beat his girlfriends senseless and eat his face.
Danny makes a minor adjustment to his Frankentaur controls, and begins a rhythmic patter and chord progression, slowly at first, but gradually gaining speed. Movie buffs and fans of adventure films would recognize it as a riff of the famous Zorro movie themes. Danny slowly circles around his foe, keeping himself and his horde of monks between the fish-faced freak and his girlfriends.
As a performer, especially in musicals, the ability to let one part of your brain run your mouth and sing and dance, while another part races ahead to your next line, or song, or scene, is an important skill to develop. It can save the show. Danny had never thought it might one day save his life!
By the time Danny had maneuvered the Fomor into where he wanted him to be, (facing away from the twins and the other innocents in the immediate area) Danny had settled on a plan.
He would have to admit later, under duress, that it was not a particularly brilliant plan. But Danny had done enough improvisation (NOT his favorite acting skill By the way!) to know that sometimes you just roll with what you've got.
Danny flipped a small switch, and went back into power chord mode. At this rate, he was going to need a battery upgrade next.
His opening riff rolled out loud and clear, loud enough to be heard across the entire green, where it momentarily caught the attention of friend and foe alike with it's hauntingly familiar chords.
As Danny's voice rang out loud and clear in song, it was both a declaration of intention, and perhaps, a cry for help,...
Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and I turn
And I dream of what I need
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life!
Larger than life
Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet
As Danny sings, he grows just a little, his form taking on a more martial stance. His clothes shimmer and shift, morphing into a black costume, complete with black cape. His Frankentaur shimmers and morphs into a sword that fits comfortably into Danny's hands. And he looks like he knows how to use it. Uber-Danny smirks that irritating smile that only he can make seem so,... Irritating, and he makes 'come get some' gesture to the Fomor.
,... Unseen by the Fomor, Danny steps back, and outside of his carefully crafted image of himself (based mostly on how he views himself in the mirror) Under a very small, very tight veil. Danny doesn't care if anyone else can see him right now, he is focused on the Fomor, and his puppet-image.
"Let's Dance Fish-face!" Danny laughs, the taunting baritone coming from the zorro-clad illusion.
Heart pounding, San watches the big piranha-Viking sway, then topple. There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn't bother anyone, even before the body hit the ground with a dull, flaccid thwack.
Adrenaline sizzles through her veins, and she kicks into the air to kip up to her feet, landing in a crouch and becoming aware of her surroundings once more. The crazy carousel music blends oddly with a guitar and voice she's certain she recognizes, with the shrill sound of screams over everything.
A flash lights up the vendor area, and Sal grins. Kenneth and his cleansing fire can surely handle whatever is happening there. A plaintive "we need a hero" comes blasting through, but the area near Danny seems to be filled with the entire cast of extras from The Drunken Master. She's not so sure about the picnic area. The sound of terrified children screaming Daddy! Daddy! settles her indecision as her vision goes red with rage for a second. "No you don't. Not in my town," she growls, trying to shove through the panicking crowd toward the source of the screams. She doesn't notice how easily the term "my town" slid into her head.
Zone B - Beer Stalls R4
NPC's / Aspects: Min & Lin, Mead Monks, MORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR
PC's: Danny
As the midnight clad Danny steps forth with his guitar, triumphant after having taken out one of Danny's girlfriends and faught his way through a host of Oriental monks - the formor is joyous to finally fight the master. "You big mouth, like Skald. Me shut it now." it says with a grunt.
Lin looks back to Danny, with a look of appreciation at his attire and the cut of his jib. Gently placing her sister down against the side of the stall of mead, she tries to focus her thoughts and draws another forma into creation.
As Danny's eye is drawn from the green projectile back towards Lin, he sees an image in the gallon jar of mead. Almost as a sepia painting, a beautiful young woman not a decade his senior stares back at him and his performance. Then the visage moves, she smiles, a small smile nevertheless a magnificent one. One that he's seen before in the mirror, for the woman seems to hold a familial resemblance. Dannys heart soars, beating faster in his chest and not just because of the music.
This woman is alive and sees him...
The pair of monks fight against their bestial creature, the staffs bending against the creatures hard skin and parrying blows.
-
The final creature still attempts to see through the mass of Saffron robed monks.
Zone C - Picnic Panic! R4
NPC's / Aspects: Mr & Mrs Miller, PICNIC PANIC! (taggable)
PC's: Edwyn, Sal
Sal pushes through the crowd, like a drowning swimmer desperate for air and leaps over a shin-height wall into an open lawn-area. Tartan blankets & rugs, cast aside litter the area along with half eaten lunches and bottles of wine.
"Your town? Not anymore.... it's hunting season." hisses a sharp mouthed monstrosity, his features slipping further from human into a more piscine form. The creature shifts it's shoulders and opens it's claw-like hands, with a lumbering charge it rushes forwards to the gunslinger.
The second one grabs Mr Miller and starts to move towards the viking boat, it slugs the man in the jaw - knocking him out.
Whilst the one with Mrs Miller on his shoulder, his eyes bulge as Edwyn tries to get in close and pummel the man.
Zone D - Artistic Entrance R4
NPC's / Aspects: Sven Olaffson, WPC Laura
PC's: Kenneth
Flaming armour flickers up Kenneth's torso as the creature flinches slightly, from across the way there's a loud chuckle from the Scandinavian sculptor at this reaction. "Celt, you do your ancestors proud." he says whilst grappling his own fomor.
With a snarl at being off-put the fomor facing Kenneth, decides that grappling may not be the way to go and grabs a heavy stone urn filled with flowers and attempts to pummel him with it.
O_o
Danny's grin (both the UberDanny, and the real Danny hidden inside) is wide and contagious. If there was any doubt that this now-Uber-minstrel was on top of his game, that doubt is now gone. This 'Skald' is large and in charge. And he knows it. Just ask him.
And besides, what boy doesn't like to show off for his mother? Just a little bit?
"You?! Stop ME?!?" Uberdanny's laugh rolls merrily across the fields as he leans slightly one way, then another, easily avoiding the Fomor's swings like a Kung Fu Master in one of the old hop-n-chop flicks.
"Better,... THINGS, than you have tried, BOY! But, if you feel you must, give it your best shot! Oh, wait, was that it? That was it, wasn't it? How embarrassing. Oh well, my turn then. BATTER UP!"
And the UberDanny flips his guitar-turned-sword around in his hand, looks at it, looks at the Fomor, Waggles his eyebrows with a big smile, and swings!
Holding the guitar turned sword up high, UberDanny suddenly backhands the Fomor!
"Not gonna waste my blade on YOU fish-face. You might get blood on it! Do you have any idea how hard that stuff is to clean?"
C'mon, big ugly, Sal thinks to herself, recognizing overconfidence born of size and strength, I bet you can't corner worth a damn. Petite has its advantages, ya gorilla. The soldier bides her time, loose and poised, until one huge paw comes her way, whooshing through the air at a frightening rate. With timing and grace that would do a Chinese acrobat credit, she dives forward into a roll, right between the oversized fish-man's legs, keeps rolling onto her feet and runs a few steps, then turns, kneels, and fires all in one smooth motion.
This is almost fun. The adrenaline makes everything so easy. She pushes to the back of her skull any thoughts about luck running out.
Edwyn grabs the side of the fomors head and does a quick rabbit punch to the other side. There's a sharp cracking sound of a broken stick as the blow hits the orbital and cheek bones. The figure falls to the ground disgorging a bemused and shocked Mrs Miller onto the ground.
ZA2: 7-1+3 = 9 this takes it out.
ZA3: 5-0+3 = 8 this takes it out.
ZB1: Duelling with monks 2 stress hit
ZB2: Hits Min, takes 5-4+3-1= 3 stress hit.
ZB3:
Min: takes 2-1+6 = 7 stress hit. Major Consequence(broken shin) & 1 stress.
Lin: Takes 2 mental hit. (weapon:3 spell)
ZC1: Grapples Mrs Millier 2-2+1-1=1 stress hit. 3-0+4+1-0=7 Takes it out.
ZC2:
ZC3:
ZD1:6-5+4-1 = 4 stress hit
ZD2: 6-4+3-1 = 3 stress; 3-1+3=5 stress by passing catch takes it out.
ZD3: Grappling Balder
Edwyn nearly guffaws with disbelief when hears the telltale sound of cracking bone. The sensation of it giving away beneath his fist however, was not nearly as familiar to him. Cracking the thing's (whatever it was) skull open was not exactly his plan. But he couldn't deny that he felt damn good doing it.
Pushing aside the moral implications of having possibly killed a literal monster, Edwyn offers Mrs. Miller a hand, to get her back onto her feet. But his attention is not on her, but on the creature carrying her husband away. Strictly speaking, the man wasn't a part of his job, but letting the fish-people do God-knows-what to him would not sit well with his conscience.
"Sit tight. I'll go see what I can do for your husband," he assures her, before taking off, hoping that whatever the hell came over him stuck around.
Edwyn lowers his head and goes in for a clumsy tackle, his form making him look like a drunk rugby player. Evidently, super-strength did not really come with an instruction manual.
Zone B - Beer Stalls R5
NPC's / Aspects: Min & Lin, Mead Monks, MORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR
PC's: Danny
The pair of Monks continue to try and thwart the piscine giant, deflecting the heavy fists - even going so far as to attack more vehemently and in concert. With a traditional quarterstaff style, the pair act in unison, however open themselves upto the creatures ow attacks.
; ;
Whilst learning something from the hemp robed figures, the leather clad (Franken)-Danny dodges one of the massive blows coming from his opponent. With a wicked side-step, just at the last moment causing his jacket to bow in the backdraft as the creatures arm goes past. And instead of connecting with the singer (or at least his image), it smashes into a traditonal cast-iron light pole.
It's forearm smashed into black painted iron pole with such ferocity that both of them bend at quite an obtuse angle. The beast screams with annoyance; "Slick man, slide away from this!" He shouts climbing slightly up the post to gain height and then plummets using momentum face (& teeth first) onto Danny.
Min & Lin, now sensibly hide behind the mead stall.
The final of the triad, smashes into the oriental illusionary fighters, whom are looking very wane and becoming frayed & transparent at the edges. In a few moments they will probably completely disappear...
Zone C - Picnic Panic! R5
NPC's / Aspects: Mr & Mrs Miller, PICNIC PANIC! (taggable)
PC's: Edwyn & Sal
The elegant roll and repositioning takes the creature by surprise as it turns it's head towards Sal just in time for it the hear the boom of the heavy pistol. However the sound waves are not far enough ahead of the hot lead round, well not far enough for the monstrosity to react. Sal's aim in true as the bullet takes it in the face just above the bridge of what could be kindly described as a boxers nose.
There's a heavy thump as the creature slides to the ground, meters away. It's stationary form perfectly framed by the checked picnic blanket.
Edwyn dives forwards his arms encircling the waist of the fomor, or attempting to... for it stands as a redwood against the superhuman strength of the investigator. It then launches a pair of flat palmed pushes to shove Edwyn straight into the lawn. "Who you? You have value? Magic man?" it grunts.
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Danny, ever-watching and learning, (especially 'cool' stuff) bends back in a dodge almost as well as the mead-monks do, and just in time! The Fomor's fist almost touches Danny's illusory shell, and Danny SWEARS he could feel the breeze from the blow! The fomor's arm smashes into an antique steel lamppost Danny was considering hiding behi,... erm, 'using strategically', causing both the steel lamppost and the creatures arm to bend at unnatural angles. So much for THAT idea.
"Oo, THAT's gonna leave a mark!" Franken-Danny chuckles in mock sympathy. As the Fomor briefly reacts to the pain, (I guess breaking your own arm hurts even monsters a little?!?) Danny cannot help but sneak a lightning-quick glance to see if the twins had noticed that really cool move! He caught a glimpse of a shapely leg vanishing behind one of the mead stalls, as the twins had obviously, finally, realized that THIS brawl was a just a little out of their league!
Danny rolled his eyes inside his illusory-macho shell. 'Oh sure. NOW you girls listen to me! He grumbled half-heartedly, a tension in his chest relaxing now that the twins were out of harms way. For the moment at least.
Danny turned his full attention back to the Fomor, wondering if perhaps this little brou-ha-ha wasn't a smidge out of HIS league as well, in time to realize that the creature had grabbed the lamppost with his good arm, and pulled himself UP the post to launch itself at Danny!
With a manly "EEP!" Danny dodges again, both his reflexes and his illusion putting a safe distance between the Fomor's TEETH and his own face!
"Oh HECK no! That tears it! If your gonna go all Mike Tyson, kid gloves are OFF buddy!" Danny growls, his fear and adrenaline making him sound even angrier than he already was.
Danny quickly regards his illusion, and carefully loosens the binding between his macho illusion and his leg. Mentally directing the nearest remaining image-monks (Which look a little more like Airbenders than the actual monks, now that you look at them again) to make a flurry of attacks on the Fomor, Danny, his image-self still standing tall and belligerent, directs a swift kick at the Fomor's crotch with his invisible foot!
Danny wasn't REALLY hoping that it would do anything to the massive man-thing, (although he would happily take it if it did!) it was merely a distraction. As the Fomor instinctively glanced down to see what had attacked it's nether-region, as his opponent had not moved, in that split-second Danny drove his fist into the Fomor's face with all of his adrenaline, fury and panic behind the blow!
Sal looks around wildly after her opponent falls and sees Edwyn shoved to the ground by the remaining monster. Then the import of the thing's words hits her and she goes cold inside. Magic man? Are these guys after Danny and Kenneth? Kenneth can handle himself, but... Edwyn never seemed magical to her, but she couldn't just abandon him, so she snaps off a parting shot at his attacker before trying to shove through the crowd to where she last spotted Danny and the twins.
"Yeah, I'm a magic man all right," Edwyn mumbles as he is sent sprawling to the ground, his latest attempt at being a badass thwarted. Whatever mojo Mrs. Miller pumped him with clearly wasn't going to do all of the heavy lifting for him. As he clambers back onto his feet a loud gunshot sounds off nearby, immediately drawing his attention. He can't help but to crack a grin when he sees the familiar figure slipping into the crowd... but that grin quickly becomes a frown when he realizes that she was probably packing heat the whole time.
Oh wait, so am I, the detective remembers, already reaching for the pistol in his jacket's inner pocket. Technically speaking, it was a legally licensed firearm. For target shooting. In the Netherlands. In other words, probably very illegal here and now. Assuming the ugly wasn't already turned into a donut by Sal's popgun, Edwyn draws his banana pistol and opens fire.
Sal glances back at the PI, realizing he might not know anybody here. She shouts and waves a beckoning arm. "Mulder! Friends this way! Follow me!" But her panic to reach Danny, who may be one of the targets of this attack, is too urgent for her to wait and see if the detective follows.
Meanwhile, back with the bard..
Kenneth smiles at the compliment, "Well, I cannae say she chose tae well, but I've certainly bin daeing all I kin tae bide up tae her faith in me." He chuckles as he feels the flames in his heart flicker, then quickly adds, "Ay course, I've also learned nae tae question the judgement ay my goddess.."
He turns back to the formor, watching him back away from the protective mail, Aye, fire is a wondrous purifying force, and holy fire so much more so... He begins to shift back and forth on his feet, keeping his stance even as the formor lifts the massive urn, "Ach, trust an inhuman beastie from wherever they be from tae bring a flowerpot tae a proper swordfight." He stays steady as the thing brings the massive weight down toward him, then brings the burning, magical blade up and across, spinning as he does to bring all this strength and bodyweight into the almost baseball-like swing.
The magically reinforced blade strikes the urn with a loud ring, pushing it to the left, allowing the bard to step to the right, avoiding the attack and placing himself well within the formor's arc. "Now, ye wretch, allow me tae show ye why claighbeag were invented and replaced us trying tae batter each ither with lairge, heavy things."
He lashes out, the wreath of flames on his blade growing brighter as he swings the sword, and he adds, "A'course, evil beasties like you would be why holy fires were invented."
Zone C - Picnic Panic! R6
NPC's / Aspects: Mr & Mrs Miller, PICNIC PANIC! (taggable)
PC's: Edwyn & Sal
Edwyn staggers slightly backwards from the giants attack using his momentum to draw the pistol in a smooth and practised motion. At such close range with the viking looming over him, only nerves would make the shot go wide. However Edwyn focuses and tries to find a weak point in the giants tough hide.
And find it he does, however the caliber of the bullet proves not lethal. "Tickles, Mr Magic Man. Come quietly, or I'll put you out." He grunts trying to grab the detective.
Kenneth spins around in a scything motion, his skill and strength making the motion deceptively simple for such a powerful weapon. Despite the heavy-set beasts powerful musculature, he slices through it like a butcher parting sinew and bone.
The fomor is split in twain, legs toppling to one side whilst the body falls to the other. From off to one side the Nordic artist looks up from a crouch and a camaradic nod to the fellow warrior.
Edwyn however ducks and weaves against his foe, with a solid blow clips the creature upon the top of his eye, busting the brow open like in a boxing match. The spray of blood sliding down his face is enough to distract the creature as it takes a step back to wipe the crimson liquid from his face. Which is just enough time for the detective to fire his pistol is a soft staccato of shots killing the final standing waterside creature.
The staccato of shots is punctuated across the lawn by a single counterpoint from Sals Desert Eagle. Danny's golemic punch to the creatures nethers had just distracted it and occupied it enough that the ex-Sniper felt her shot would be safe, despite the public environs.
Taking the final creature out with a simple head-shot, her gun softly smokes with a warm peppermint smoke. From nearby the pair of Anglican monks breath a sigh of relief and move to help with an injured man near their stall, where there was a significant kerfuffle. The pair of Chinese young ladies are sat in the shade of the mead & honey stall, gasping for breath from the combat.
Danny, his illusion long since faded to ectoplasmic ether, stumbles exhaustedly between the busy fair-goers helping each other in shock until he reaches the twins. He stands before them, one hand jauntily on his hip, the other holding his his electronic nightmare guitar over one shoulder like an actual battle axe. He manages an almost convincing 'I-have-it-all-under-control' grin.
"Wow. Do these guys know how to party or what?" Danny smirks, jabbing a thumb at the nearest mead-monk.
The twins look at Danny, then each other, then back to Danny. Without a word, one reaches out with a short, shapely leg to tap Danny on the chest none-to-gently, while the other reaches an equally shapely foot out to hook Danny's leg, preventing him from being able to recover his footing. A heartbeat later Danny is on his rump, and the twins pounce,...
But instead of pummeling him as in so many practice sessions, or worse, tickling him, each one grabbed an arm and wrapped themselves in it like a security blanket.
Danny blinked, the great mouth momentarily at a loss for words.
He was slow, not stupid. And neither were the girls. Both of them had JUST showed off to him a newfound skill for magic, and then found out that made them a target, even more so than being their father's daughters had ever made them. They had taken a single step into a larger world, and then discovered it was both more amazing and scarier than they had dreamed possible, and that they couldn't go back.
The twins would recover shortly, their combined courage and wits ready to face these new challenges. But for now, they just wanted to feel safe, and trusted Danny to provide that.
Danny was both elated, and ashamed. He wasn't about to blow this moment by telling the twins that while he had LOOKED cool, he had just almost had his illusionary arse handed to him there. (He makes a note to thank Sal, a lot, for that save.) If he was gonna PLAY the hero, he'd better start learning how to actually succeed at it.
As much as Danny hated being drug into the 'spooky side' disputes of fairie and the other crowds, it was time to talk to his new friends, and maybe a few enemies, and get some pointers.
It was time for the Spellsinger to learn some new tunes.
Sobbing and wailing replace the shrill screams of terror, so Sal is comfortable that the big-ugly-fish-shark-rubbery things have either been killed or left the immediate area. Her worries about Danny vanish when he and the twins drop to the grass in a weird three-way comfort hug... or whatever. Still wide-eyed and panting, she flips the safety latch on the Desert Eagle and shoves it in her pocket. But despite the lack of fighting in the area, something nags at her as her eyes darts around, surveying the aftermath and the good people helping the fallen.
It hits her then, and she looks up and around frantically until she spots the top of the maypole, then shoves her way through the milling crowd back to where she was when this whole mess started.
She needs to see a man about a carousel.
Kenneth allows the momentum of his swing to turn him, looking for anyone else being threatened by one of the dread beasts, then seeing they've left and not made off with anyone, he exhales, the flames on his blade winking out as he relaxes...
He turns his head to Laura, "Well, love, when ye'd said this was tae be an exciting afternoon, this wasnae what I thought you meant... Though I dinnae ken what you'll be putting in your report on this. "
He smiles at the face she makes, then nods, "Aye, ye need tae do some crowd control and keep the peace, I ken. Dinnae fret, I've Sven here tae keep me company... and I can see Danny and the girls o'er yonder."
The bard slides his blade home, then walks over to Sven, his tone apologetic, "I'm sorry that ye sae nearly came harm on my Lady's isle... and even moreso tae be asking your aid in helping those that the beasties injured a'fore we dispatched them."
With the fighting over, Edwyn could already feel his strange adrenaline rush wearing off. Standing over the dead fish monster, the detective holsters his gun and reaches into his jacket pocket to fish out a cigarette, in dire need of a pick-me-up. With a scowl, he remembers yet again that he is fresh out. He jots down a mental note to pick up a carton (or two) and looks over at the unconscious Mr. Miller, deciding that break time is over.
"All right, let's get you back to your wife..." he mutters, hoisting the man onto his shoulders in a fireman carry. Even without the super strength it wasn't terribly difficult, but the exertion elicits a strange, dull sensation from his abdomen. Oddly, it is not so much pain as it is an echo. Ow? Thinking back to the kerfuffle, he distinctly remembers something cracking when the creature hit him. I'm never gonna get used to this. But if I'm lucky, I won't have to.
Edwyn makes the short trip over to Mrs. Miller, passing a few still understandably panicked people along the way.
"Your husband's out cold, but I don't think he's injured otherwise," he says, trying to keep up his air of professionalism. A bit difficult, considering she just saw him brawling with a fish monster. "Still, you should probably see about getting him to a hospital."
The calliope-like sound of the carousel fades as Sal shoves through the crowd, unable to see over the taller people around her. By the time she arrives, the whirling animals have slowed to a stop, and the bowler-hatted carny is nowhere in sight.
She grabs the arm of one of the parents just getting his spawn disembarked from the ride. "Hey! Where'd the guy running the ride go? And why didn't you get your kids to cover when the riot started instead of sitting on this ride?" She uses the hold on his arm to help steady him and offers his little boy a hand down from the raised platform.
Laura looking around the field concerned, shakes her head and with a determined stiff smile replies; "Well my partner is an expert at this sort of nonsense. I just get on with resolving stuff and avoid the politics or mumbo-jumbo." her tone is soft, but firm. And nodding at Kenneth's words she gets crowd control and emergency procedures sorted.
Sven smiles, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders as she slumps tiredly against him. "No problem sir, I've been on these isles nearly as long as your lady. And a protector like yourself."
He shakes his head; "In fact, 'tis I whom should apologise. For the Formor seem to have escaped the realms and now they have landed upon these shore. The scavenging giants must have been looking for some sort of power."
His brows furrow, "...the priests of the Lindisfarne with their mead..." he looks concerned.
------
Motioning for Edwyn to put the man down on a nearby wall; Mrs Miller runs her hand over the forehead of her husband. His eyes flicker for a second before his seems to drift off to sleep. "No, he'll be fine. After all the recent stress, he definitely needs to keep away from those institutions."
She straightens up, it's then when Edwyn notices her attire. Initially, it reminds him that he no longer has those sorts of instincts (the suit seems to be a modernised version of a Bacall outfit); then from his detective skills he finds interesting discrepancies. The style seems initially to be 'vintage', but there's a definite feel of antique as well as touches of modern style. It is certainly like someone who has been in a coma for a decade or so, has resumed their previous style - but added new modern features that are incongruence.
"Is there a payphone around here? I must have left my mobile cellular phone at home." She asks Edwyn.
"Oh are you injured?" she asks looking at Edwyns arm and before he can more backwards she touches it. A fizzle of energy, like a fuzzy electric shock seems to coarse down his arm, Mrs Millers eyes go wide. "I'd best find that payphone..." she adds shocked and a trifle too quickly.
The man looks at Sal, there's sort of a dazed look on his face. One that she's seen before; a mixture of shell-shock and stoned. "It just seemed safer here, in the shade. Like on a lazy sunday afternoon after a couple of pints, the wheat fields rustling in the breeze.."
The little Hellion pulls at his arms, "Can I have an ice cream now, a 99 not one of the...." Shaking his head at Sal, the father drags his kid away acquiescing to the child's demands. From the shadow of the parent a few meters away under the canopy, the carnie is leaning against the rail - a long stem of straw protruding from his mouth like a hippy cigarette.
Lin looks at Danny then to her sister; "We did alright?" her tone is defensive, with an underlying need for affirmation. "What were those things? And why did they attack here?" she asks.
As the crowd of parents thins - she can see over the kids, after all - Sal spots Bowler Hat leaning casually, as if waiting for something.
She mounts the carousel platform and uses its slight height to sweep her vision over the crowds and across the fairgrounds. Edwyn is dealing with the unconscious man and his wife(?), Danny talks to the twins, and Kenneth, Sven, and Laura seem to be conferring. Frowning without meaning to, she turns back to the carnie, shaking her curls to let the wind cool the sweat trapped beneath.
She approaches to within about five meters of the lounging man and stops, trying to interpose herself between him and any exit. Ignoring him for the moment, she slowly runs her left forefinger down her right jacket sleeve, squeegeeing off the fishy ichor from the muscley pseudo-Vikings. She flicks the goo on the ground between them and looks Bowler Hat square in the face.
"So, did you enjoy the gun show?" she asks quietly, watching the man intently.
"Are you an ass that needs to be kicked, Bowler Hat, or are you just an ass?" she wonders to herself.
Edwyn watches Mrs. Miller's every action with the curiosity and intense scrutiny one might expect from a detective. Being the perfect gentleman and professional that he is, he does so without looking like he is checking her out. Of course, such fine details are not beneath his notice.
"Recent stress... no kidding," he responds, giving the unconscious Mr. Miller a long stare. "Any idea why they were after him?"
Given his condition, he usually tried to be more careful about letting people touch him, but it is then that Edwyn feels the woman's touch. He flinches, likening the resulting sensation to a static shock. Glancing back to Mrs. Miller, he catches the unmistakable look of surprise on her face.
"You could use mine if you'd like," he interjects as reaches into his pocket for his cellular phone, trying not to sound too desperate. He couldn't just let her run off. Not if he wanted to get to the bottom of things.
The man tips his hat to Sal with a broad grin on his face. "Aye Duckie, thar flintlock is pretty good. Though could've done with a bit more leg being shown, not just by that Chinese pair."
The straw seems to hang off the edge of his worn lip, defying gravity.
Mrs Miller looks concerned and with a grateful nod, whilst carefully (but subtly) avoiding contact with Edwyn she takes the proferred cellphone. Whilst she is ham-fistedly trying to use the phone, she replies to Edwyn; "No, I've no idea why anyone would want to harm my husband." she smoothly lies; "He hasn't hurt a fly. For the last few months, he's just been tootling around the garden."
After a brief conversation over the phone; '45 minutes, traffic problems? Chaos? Some problems by the river!' She sighs and hands back the phone to Edwyn; "Don't suppose you'd know anyone who could give us a lift? My brother-in-law dropped us off, you see."
Sal swipes and flicks more goo, stonefaced. "Couldn't help but notice that everyone on your carousel enjoyed it so much that they stayed aboard, despite the Viking attack and general mayhem. Why would they do that?"
Lin looks at Danny then to her sister; "We did alright?" her tone is defensive, with an underlying need for affirmation. "What were those things? And why did they attack here?" she asks.
"Yeh BOTH did great. As always." Danny smirks at the pair, still aware enough to avoid being drawn into another of THOSE impossible-to-win conversations.
"They're called Fomor, I think? Formor? Four-more'? Meh. Fish-faces. And I have no idea." Danny answers the remaining questions in order, smoothly lying his @$$ off on that last bit.
If these two clever cuties hadn't caught on to what the fish-faces were after during that last, surprisingly public, attack, then it would take a bit for the rest of the community to figure it out too. Danny was happily taking any chance to catch his breath he could get.
"Well,... I think its safe to say that the fair will be closed for the rest of the day. Looks like I need to start figuring out how to get you home, before the busy bodies start taking statements." Danny nodded in the direction of Laura who was already starting to get the situation under control in her firm yet compassionate way.
"Although, If I know YOUR dad, he already has a car on the,... Yep. THERE it is, right on cue." Danny couldn't help but smirk at the sight of the black LTD land yacht cutting through traffic, pedestrians, and jumping the poor unsuspecting curb or three to reach the girls. Judging by the response time, the driver had been even closer than usual.
Danny's smile faded a bit when he realized that every time he got to enjoy that particular sight, it was because HE was always with the girls when something, 'spooky' happened. But there was NO way that 'Dad' could possibly blame him for this. Right?,...
"Hiya George. How you doin'?" Danny asked, all smiles once more as the singer opened the car door for the girls.
George (not his real name of course, but Danny had trouble pronouncing the short oriental man's real name, and so just called him George, much to the twins delight, who began calling him that too.) was one of the girls regular drivers, and the only one that Danny was PRETTY sure actually liked him. (Although George would never, ever drop his stoic, oriental professionalism enough to actually show it. Or not.) Which was good, because he WAS sure that George was one of the girls martial arts tutors, and that George could kick his @r$e three ways to Friday, and make him enjoy the experience to boot.
So of course Danny never tempted fate, more than usual, with the girls in front of George. SO of course the girls smirked their own evil smiles, and proceeded to kiss Danny loudly and soundly on the cheeks before climbing gracefully into the Black Beauty's back seat.
George made his way over to the back door Danny was holding open, and silently checked to make sure the girls were safe inside. He allowed a brief moment for the usual flirty goodbyes, and firmly shut the door before Danny could make another comment and continue the conversation.
Instead of moving immediately, as he usually did, George took a brief glance around, weighing his time options. Danny knew that George was under strict orders to keep the girls from being publicly involved in ANYthing 'untoward or unusual' was how their father phrased it. Danny was frankly surprised he wasn't already eating the the car's dust cloud.
Instead, George looked Danny in the eyes, and said so low he could barely be heard.
"What. Happened."
Out of habit, Danny blinked and broke eye contact before the 'Sight' could kick in. Danny didn't want to share a Wizard Gaze with George if he could avoid it. Just in case he didn't, really, like Danny, he could keep his delusions intact. (And George was a seriously silently scary fellow. Danny was a teensy bit afraid of what he might see. He had learned that lesson the hard way, with the Twins dad.)
So Danny blinked, and looked George squarely on the tip of his nose. Weighing briefly what he wanted George (and by default the girls dad) to know, and what they needed to know to protect the twins.
"Fomor". Danny finally said. As if that explained everything.
If George was clued in that WOULD tell him everything, if he wasn't, he would tell the girls' father, and HE would know what it meant.
George glanced, briefly, at the car door. For him that was a verbose outburst and expression of concern. The equivalent of 'Were they after the girls?!?!' by anyone else. Yep. He had a clue.
"No. Not specifically." Danny answered truthfully.
"Although, might want to remind them not to show off those new fancy karate moves of theirs in public. Just in case." Danny added.
The look that flashed across George's face was worth it. A rare brief glimpse of surprise, pride, and fear flickered there for the space of a lighting flash, and was gone just as quickly.
George gave Danny an imperceptible nod, which Danny chose to interpret as a combination thanks and indication of respect, (Hey, if Danny is keeping his delusions, he's keeping the bar set high!) Before climbing back into the drivers seat and making the large car vanish in a cloud of debris. The dust hadn't even settled before the car was gone, long before the sound of emergency services could be heard approaching the scene.
Danny belatedly waved goodbye, shouldered his guitar, and went looking for where he dropped the case. After locating it, he drifted over towards where he could see Kenneth standing, a large rock of stability in a sea of post-event-stressed not-panic.
"Cause, as everyone knows, the Carousel is really safe. Ain't had an accident on it for a long while." He replies to Sal with a lopsided grin.
Sensing her annoyance, "Well who likes those kind of things on the river? I suppose you're thinking I know who they are, well I don't.... Hmmm, I do know someone who might know." After Sals' annoyed sigh; "Here, you tell Lorry to keep t' spring clean - make sure it don't get to the river. I might be able give you a name?"
Sal's breath catches for a moment as her brain wires cross "Lorry" with "Larry." But he's dead in that explosion... right?
She realzies the name is slightly different and her heart starts beating again. "No, nobody wants those things on the river. I sure don't. I can give Lorry the message if you can give me the name."
I have no clue who any of these are, but it's a place to start.
Not bothering to probe the obvious lie, Edwyn grimaces.
"I'd offer, but I took the bus," he replies, remembering the stares his fellow passengers gave him. Perhaps he should look into powdering his cheeks. As he rubs one of them subconsciously, his thoughts turn to the sandwich wrapper in his pocket. Even without it, he could probably find her easily enough... assuming she hasn't already bailed.
"I might know someone, though. Just give me a minute to find them."
Kenneth watches Laura leave, feeling the familiar twinge of admiration and pang of guilt, then shakes his head, turning back to Sven, "Ach, well, we'd best be stopping that. We keep up this barrage ay apologies and someone's like tae think we're Canadian." He chuckles at his own joke, then says, "But, noo, I think there may be a story I should be hearing, there. What's this about the Formor escaping? I'm assuming from that this lot isnae the whole ay the bunch we'll need tae worry about?"
The bard pauses for a moment, pointing toward Danny, "Though mayhap ye'd best be holding the tale for a minute or tae.... I'm thinking that there's a few others about here that should be hearing it... assuming I can get that one's brain to work better than it usually does when those twins are about."
He starts to make ready to push through the crowd toward Danny when he sees the girls leave with their hired muscle. Well, if the lad's coming tae me, I shan't disappoint him by moving... Though we might be better having a quiet zone to have our little chat... As the second thought strikes him, Kenneth's brow furrows slightly, watching the large number of people around him hammering on their little black screens, whether to text about their adventure, to look into whatever hoax video, or websearch as to what the heck happened... and then he again begins to chuckle as a solution occurs to him.
"Sven, I'm hoping that ye bought a warranty plan for whatever ye may be carrying," he says with a mischevious wink, then then pulls on his connection to the Flame of Kildare, letting it flare up within him... and then just flow out of him, releasing the power in strange, undirected pulses, shaped by nothing more than the lingering adrenaline, worry and confusion.
The bard smiles as the people nearest him react, whether looking askew at, tapping or shaking their precious little smartphones. He mocks an upset tone and half-shouts, "Ach, figures. Blasted bobbies are blocking the signal here. Probably the whole grounds, noo, though I bet they've kept some signal for themselves o'er there."
He watches as a few heads nod and people start heading toward the makeshift post where Laura is barking orders, clearing some space for conversation, and a bit more of a path for Danny.
The bard smiles as Danny's approach, saying, "Ach, fancy meeting ye here, lad. Ye ken, a'tween this, the ball last year and the big muckle at the loch, I'm starting tae think that folks willnae be inviting us anywhere anymore." The bard's smile freezes somewhat unnaturally as he looks around one last time to ensure there's nobody in earshot before adding, "So, those fish-faced dead-eyed beasties are called Formor, and our dear friend Sven, here, is about tae tell us a tale about them... and what he thinks they were wanting here."
The park is still in a mild frenzy after the attack, but getting around does not take much more effort than it did before the whole thing started. Luckily, being at the center of it all (figuratively if not literally), the carousel is one of the first places that Edwyn checks. Its oddity was not lost on him, but his inquisitive mind was a little too preoccupied before to give it any real thought.
Edwyn is more than a hundred paces away when he spots Sal, apparently engrossed in conversation with another gentleman. Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, he strolls over nonchalantly. He rehearses a dozen different greetings in his head, uncertain of whether to approach her as a friend or a professional.
"Miss Sala-, er, Sal," he starts, stumbling over his words with feigned awkwardness. Nailed it. His smile however, is genuine, if a bit stiff. Not that he could help it. He then glances at the man she is speaking with - the one with the bowler hat - and subtly sizes him up, those investigative instincts kicking in. He looks back to Sal, the moment having ended. "Thanks for the assist back there. It's been a while since I last got into a fistfight. Or had to shoot something."
The detective rubs the back of his head, his hair feeling coarse and try beneath his fingertips. "Are mutant fish people usually a thing around here? The travel guide didn't mention them."
Sal nods as Edwyn approaches and again in recognition of his thanks. "I haven't seen mutant fish Vikings here before, but I'm pretty new. Mr. Carousel here was just about to give me the name of a person to consult for more information on the Fishy Viking Fesvital. Then we can talk, if you're interested in mytheohomoicthyology." Her tone is light, but she clearly doesn't want to say more in the present company.
She cocks her head at Bowler Hat Dude, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
Danny Sidles up next to Kenneth, and smiles wanly. He nods at the sight of the current follow-up to the attack, people already refusing to admit what they had seen, denying their own eyes, and already well on the way to explaining away the attack as something more publicly acceptable than 'supernatural beasties kidnapping magical persons'.
"So. What. The Heck?!?" Danny asks Kenneth, still staring out over the fairgrounds.
Danny nods at Kenneth's promise of an interesting story about to be told, and gives a small, tired but genuine smile to Sven.
"I saw Sal earlier, should we find her and invite her as well? If I recall, she likes a good story too." Danny says, sounding a bit more like his usual, quippy, self.