open ⚜ praise and glory are two of my favorite things

[epeiste]

It's true that, even very recently in Porthos's life back in Paris, he's seen every horrible bit and piece of war. Porthos has battled entire armies, been captured, survived, barely escaped with his life. It's terrifying and thrilling, to say the least. And Porthos would have it no other way. He's a soldier, through and through. He's a very simple man, really. He dreams of things outside of his reality as many men and women do, but he doesn't try to step outside of his lane anymore, not since he's been a Musketeer. Being a soldier, a Musketeer, is where he belongs. He likes the thrill of it, the danger, the camaraderie between him and other soldiers like him.

When monsters, the likes of which he has never seen, start to flood Itinere, at first he's startled. Things of nightmares, things he could never have even thought to dream up, dangerous beasts with the intent to kill are somewhat daunting no matter what world or time period a man is from. Then, after the initial terror, he takes up arms. Because maybe this is what he's needed since arriving here, a real foe to fight.

This giant of a man can be found out and about by himself, of course, in full Musketeer armor and armed for battle. Maybe he's fighting some beast or rescuing some stranded citizen. But for the most part, he'll stick close to his comrade, Aramis. The two of them fight side-by-side like two dance partners, well accustomed to one another's mind, moves and counter-moves when in a sticky situation. While each of them are excellent soldiers in their own right, they're strongest when together, fighting as a unit. This, the terrors running through a usually peaceful city, is a much needed reminder of that. All for one and one for all.


ooc: let me know in the subject line if you want not just Porthos, but TWO Musketeers. That's right, TWO for the price of one. I'm sure we can make that happen.

Comments

[averygoodshot]

It's almost like old times; Aramis finds himself thinking.

To be a Musketeer is to not fear death. That is not the same as not wanting to die, but a Musketeer will run toward death if it means saving others, while maintaining one's honor.

Both Aramis and Porthos know this. They both come from a place where honor was hard to come by. They have earned their honor.

Here, where they are again fighting those things they don't understand, Aramis keeps his back to Porthos, fighting his flank as Porthos fights his. Despite any disagreements they may have had recently, this is what they are both best at doing.

Shifting his stance a little, Aramis takes a moment to catch his breath after they have downed a strange winged creature. "And here I thought we might get bored," he drawls.

[epeiste]

It's probably horrible to think it, but it feels good to be fighting again. The foe is something entirely different than what they're accustomed to. But Porthos has needed this for awhile, a direction in which to vent his own frustrations. These strange beasts now found throughout the city have thankfully given him that.

Porthos steps over to the downed creature and pokes at it with the toe of his boot. Then he crouches down to remove one of the talons from its odd, bird like foot. When available, he's been doing this, taking keepsakes from each kill.

"Maybe whoever's listening noticed our boredom and brought us this." It's a morbid thought at face value, the idea that they are responsible for this, that they brought this danger about by hoping for something to fill the void. But anyone who knows Porthos know that he means no harm by it. It's just a thought, nothing more and nothing less.

[averygoodshot]

And who knows? He might be right, for all they understand of this place.

Aramis wipes his sword on the thing to clean it before sheathing it again, and beginning to reload his pistol. "Shall we continue our patrol, then?" he asks, hooking his weapon to his belt. They have no horses, spooked as they are at the noise and the strange creatures, and must venture forth on foot.

Perhaps this time, lest they are immediately attacked, will give them a chance to talk, which they sorely need to do.

[epeiste]

"If that's what you call this." Porthos mutters with amusement. Patrol, battle, Armageddon, whatever you call it, it's much more eventful than their normal patrol. There's little chance of being bored or tiresome on a day like today. Porthos has to wonder if this is the norm and they have no way to really know that. He wouldn't mind the occasional monster to fight.

He slips the talon into a leather bag hanging at his hip and closes the flap before they start off down the street together. There's a pep in Porthos's step that hadn't been there before.

"Where do you think they're comin' from?" He'd seen one digging up from the ground, but the others... he has no idea. "What made them appear now?"

[averygoodshot]

"I have no idea," Aramis says, quite sincerely as he looks around. "Perhaps we shall find out? Or ... perhaps it is that it shall disappear just like things do and did in every other place we have been in since leaving Paris the first time. Perhaps we are mere players in another such game."

Isn't that good news? Ha. Sigh.

Thankfully, something appears around a corner. It's a big and burly thing with quite long teeth. Aramis is quick to reach for his pistol, giving Porthos a look. Are they ready? It hardly matters, since the thing charges at him.

[epeiste]

Really, it isn't that Porthos is complaining. He's not. He's just curious, always curious about the why's and how's of things. In this place there are doors in which people may enter and sometimes leave through. Do the monsters have doors? Did they just appear? And if so, then how? Magic? Porthos doesn't care for magic, or anything else that can't be explained. Any number of Aramis's suggestions could fit the bill.

"That would make us pieces in their games. Don't much care for that." He says thoughtfully.

Porthos draws his sword and nods at Aramis. When his friend gets a shot off to stun the beast, he charges and thrusts into the thick, meaty flesh of the monster's stomach, then he uses all his strength to shift his sword up while still impaled and cut up some if its insides. The creature makes a horrible sound and Porthos steps back, bringing his sword with him as blood and bits of innards starts gurgling out of his incision.

[averygoodshot]

When Porthos pulls back, Aramis charges forward from behind. How Porthos cut the thing in the front, he cuts from behind, along and between ribs. He twists his blade, too, kicking at the thing as he pulls his blade out, letting it stagger, or fall as it may.

He grins over that thing at Porthos. Magic or no, this does provide a nice rush to the blood, doesn't it?

[epeiste]

When the beast falls to the ground, Porthos looks up and meets Aramis's gaze. His heart is beating so hard that he can feel it thudding in his chest, in his ears, all the way down to his toes. Aramis is grinning at him and Porthos's lips curl into a similar grin. It's nice to feel alive. It's nice to be alive.

"Just like old times, eh? Different foe, same battle." He says, thinking of those old times as he tears his gaze away from Aramis and cleans his blade off with a handkerchief and reaching down to grab one of the fangs on this creature and rip it away, only to pocket it.

As he stands back up, he jokes. "Although there was some Spaniards as ugly as this thing." He pokes the 'thing' with the toe of his boot before continuing on their way down the street.

[averygoodshot]

The joke about the Spaniards makes Aramis laugh aloud. Porthos speaks the truth. With his own blood thrumming hard in his veins, he nudges his comrade's shoulder with his own as they continue down the street. "Which would you rather fight, though," he asks, if only to make conversation than anything else. "Such a beast as this? Or the Spanish?"

I'm okay with both or whatever!

[dorkify]

Gracie doesn't think herself a hero. She knows she's not a bad ass and she's got no illusions about her ability to do any saving of herself or anyone else. She'd been holed up in her apartment since things have started to go crazy. For the most part, she's been fine there. She's got plenty of books to read and TV shows on DVD, but Aslan has been going nuts. He knows something is wrong outside. He yowls at the windows, paces in front of the door and today, when she cracked open the window to let a little fresh air in, Aslan jumped out. He'd raced down the fire escape and Gracie had raced after him barefoot and hardly dressed for the journey chasing Aslan takes her on.

She's tracked him down to an alley and is tiptoeing through, the legs of her sweat pants shoved up to her knees to keep them from straggling in dirty water. She's meowing at him in an effort to get him to come out from behind whatever refuse he's taken refuge in. There's a clatter behind her and a wet, sticking noise. Gracie turns to find something out of a Goosebumps book. It's slimy and drippy with a mouth full of sharp teeth. She swallows hard, backing toward the pile of pallets that she suspects Aslan is behind, she winces as her foot is cut on something sharp. When the creature lunges out with a clawed hand, Gracie screams.

Gracie > Porthos > Aramis

[epeiste]

Of course the Musketeers are out and about in a crisis such as this. They're well-trained soldiers, even if their time is a little off from most everyone else's. That doesn't mean their skill is off. The city of Itinere needs them. And just as they did in Paris, they will see the city through its darkest of days.

Imagine Porthos's surprise when they respond to a strange sound in an alleyway and he spies Mademoiselle Gracie there. He knows her well enough. They've forged the beginnings of a good friendship, Porthos and Gracie. This is why his heart leaps into his throat when the... strange creature leaps at her and she screams.

He looks wild-eyed to Aramis and nods before charging in at full speed. He gets between the creature and Gracie with Aramis flanking the other side. "Never fear Mademoiselle Gracie. We'll not let it hurt you." Hopefully. And of course, that he knows her name will let Aramis know that Porthos knows the lady.

[averygoodshot]

Far be it for the Musketeers to not let a chance go by to rescue a damsel in distress (though Aramis will be the first to admit that often the women need no defense; they are highly capable more often than not).

This thing is just as odd as other things they have faced and he has his pistol facing it with a knife in his other.

"Madamoiselle Gracie," he says with a wry smile, eyes not leaving the thing. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

[dorkify]

Gracie will back up against the wall, giving Porthos and Aramis room to fight the creature that attacked her. Her eyes are wild and she's panicking more than a little. "Hi," she squeaks, cringing a little when the creature roars. Gracie definitely needs to be defended. This is not her speed. Back home, she's capable of handling a guy who gets rude or handsy. She wouldn't even hesitate to stop a shop lifter, but she's not capable of defending herself from a monster like this (or from someone who really wanted to do her harm).

[epeiste]

As Porthos draws his short sword to go along with his long sword, it's time for some dual-wielding hack and slash. It seems to be the best bet with a creature such as this, a blob of something slimey with no real bodily shape or no way to tell where the internal organs might be. It's really horrible looking, as a matter of fact.

With a glance to Aramis, he shrugs and then nods before going at it, a slice here and a jab there, a thrust and a cut that would bring even the strongest of men to his knees for the depth and width of it. The beast makes some terrible noises, slimming this way and that, evading an attack here and there, pushing itself flat to the ground or making itself slim as a sheet of parchment. So strange.

He and Aramis work in tandem until there are many slimey bits on the ground, all of them still jiggling and moving as if wounded, but waiting to reform into their larger self. He looks up at Aramis. "Fire?" Would fire put an end to the beast?

[averygoodshot]

It's worth a try, isn't it? Aramis nods, taking a paper and some powder from his pouch. He'll sprinkle the powder around the bits and then work to light the paper, tossing it down on the bits, which seem to jiggle in their own sense of fear for what it's worth. Aramis isn't sure what it's worth, but he's watching, nonetheless, eager to see if they can succeed in killing whatever this is.

[dorkify]

Horrible is a very mild way to describe the disgusting thing that Porthos and Aramis are fighting. Gracie stays as far back as she can, attempting to stay out of the musketeers' way. If Gracie weren't terrified and disgusted by the creature and what might have happened if the musketeers hadn't come along she would be awed by the way they worked together, the way they fought. As it is, she's focusing on staying out of the way.

She relaxes a little when they set the jiggly bits on fire, scooting a little further from the wall, toward the burning mess. "Is it--dead? What was it?"

[epeiste]

The fire does work, thank goodness. Porthos stands back as all the little bits light up and burn. It stinks. The east makes a horrible screeching sound, the sound that horrible things make when they're meeting their end, only this is otherworldly with a strange tone to it that would remind anyone listening that it isn't human, as if there were any question.

Porthos's lips curl down, his nose wrinkling a bit. When Gracie speaks, he steps toward her and dips his head respectfully before looking her over. First things first: "I believe it is dead. Are you injured, my lady?"

And then, a sweep of his arm toward Aramis. "This is Aramis, me comrade." Yes, the Aramis. For Porthos knows that Gracie knows of the novels of their exploits as Musketeers. Aramis is every bit as handsome and debonair as described, perhaps even more so, if Porthos were to wager on it.

I'm good with either!

[stillplaying]

Katniss prefers not to fight if she doesn't have to. But when she does, her preferred weapon will always be her bow. She'll never be proficient with knives the way Clove had been, or prefer something big and bulky to wield like Finnick's bow. Or wield a sword the way the Musketeers can. Her skill will always lie within archery and her bow will always be her first choice. Well, either that or she prefers not to get entangled in fight to start with.

There's just one problem that's never quite talked about when it comes to defending yourself with bow and arrows. Eventually, if the foe is hard to kill (as the griffin in front of her seems to be), you can run out of arrows.

Which is exactly the situation Katniss finds herself in now as she picks up stones along the edge of the forest and hurls them as hard as she can at the muttation.

Katniss-Aramis-Porthos

[averygoodshot]

It's the rocks, quite honestly, that draw Aramis's attention; that sound of the stone hitting the earth is one that is familiar, no matter the time or place. The strange squawking noise that follows? Well, that's foreign and all the Musketeers need to do is exchange glances as they run.

It's Katniss who, of course, Aramis knows, and Porthos may well too. Aramis pulls his pistol and lines up his shot, giving Porthos time to do the same. Then he fires.

[epeiste]

There is a definitely a difference, different styles in fighting. The bow, along with the musket each of the Musketeers wear at their hips, are better as long range weapons when one is able to use them that way. The long sword, daggers and short swords that the Musketeers have are more up close and personal a weapon. Each has their merits and their pitfalls as far as pros and cons go. Aramis is wonderful with a musket. Porthos prefers the up close and personal of his blade or even hand-to-hand. Basically, he thrives in battle in the way a person probably shouldn't.

The pair has been out and about patrolling and helping out where they can. Truth be told, Porthos is thankful for the distraction of the beasts. If not for the fact that innocent beings are harmed in the process, he'd be like a kid in a candy store for this cure to his boredom of the last few weeks. Musketeers were never meant to lead sedentary, peaceful lives.

When Aramis draws his attention to the rocks and the one throwing them, he's only a step or two behind his comrade. Of course they want to help out. Porthos foregoes his pistol and unsheathes his long sword with a loud shiiink of metal while Aramis lines up his shot. As his friend aims, Porthos runs ahead, straight into the fray and just a bit to the side to allow Aramis his shot. The strange creature is already pinned with arrows sticking out of it. Aramis's shot lands and the beast screeches loudly. Porthos comes up from the rear, his sword raised as he rounds the beast and thrusts it into the griffon's neck with satisfying ease. He pulls down on the blade, slowly slicing through the meat of half the beast's neck.

[stillplaying]

Katniss isn't a fan of guns or the bullets they fire. She knows first hand how much they can hurt. But at the same time, she has to admit that sometimes they can be more effective than her bow. The strange monster attacking her doesn't seem to like the bullets all that much. It's the distraction that Katniss needs to run out from in front of the mutt's mouth. She hurls one more rock at it and then runs.

In the process of escaping, she nearly misses the way Porthos thrusts his sword through the griffin's neck. She's not fast enough to escape the blood that spurts from the neck wound. Droplets splatter all over her and she scowls. But blood's minor in the grand scheme of things. If she can't remove it, she'll get rid of the clothes. What matters is that the griffin is dead. The griffin is dead and she's alive.

She rests her hands on her thighs as she struggles to catch her breath. "Thanks," she mutters, glancing at the sword sticking in the griffin. "Thank you."

[averygoodshot]

"Are you all right, madamoiselle Katniss?" Aramis asks, stepping closer now that the threat has passed. He glances over at the dead thing again, then back at his young friend, even though she might not consider him a friend. "You are unharmed?"

That is, after all, what matters most.

[epeiste]

Porthos would say that an arrow pierced through skin could hurt just as much as a bullet. He's been privy to both. A weapon is a weapon and pain is pain. But each warrior, each soldier, does have their skill set and their preferences. He would rather they play to those and succeed, survive, than try to do something they have no affinity towards.

The blood spray is impressive. None of them really escape it. But it is a minor concern when it comes to survival. In his experience, you can't fight a war without getting bloody and dirty. He's been at war for years back home. Of course, they don't have the modern luxury of aircraft and such when it comes to fighting a war. In his time, you almost always have to look a man in the face before you kill him.

The beast falls to the ground and he pulls a handkerchief from his belt to clean his blade off, as well as his face, where there's some blood spatter. Then he offers the same handkerchief to Katniss for the same reasons.

"There are all manner of beasts about. Aramis had to save me life just yesterday." He admits, hopefully so Katniss won't think too much of their coming to the rescue in their own way.

[stillplaying]

It is something of a blow to her ego, having to be rescued by the Musketeers. In the end though, Katniss would rather be alive than dead. She has people to live for here. She's finally coming out of a shell that she's hid behind for most of her time here. Dying would defeat whatever comes next. Right now, even with the dangers to the city (or especially because of these dangers), it's the last thing that she wants.

So she nods in response to Aramis' questions. She's alright and unharmed and most importantly, not scowling. Katniss will always be slow at making friends but she's trying for one of the first times in her life. Scowling at the men who rescued her would defeat that purpose.

"I'm fine," she adds in as she accepts Porthos' handkerchief. She uses it to clean her face and then walks closer to the dead beast, reusing the handkerchief as a grip to pull her arrows out. After pulling out the first one, she glances back at the men. "Do you think this is edible?"

[averygoodshot]

Well.

That question clearly catches Aramis off-guard. His eyebrows rise and he opens his mouth to answer, but he shuts it again. There is plenty of food here. Something niggles in the back of his mind - about the Katniss he knew - that she is not used to having much and if so, then, well, it's a logical question. He doesn't judge.

"I don't know," he says, "though I would imagine it's somewhat chewy."