Philip (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
radiopalkiller) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-06-04 10:20 pm
radiopalkiller) wrote in entrancelogs2016-06-04 10:20 pm
[open] Wonderland Needs Beeees!
Who: One Philip, many bees, and YOU!
Where: The Grounds
When: Saturday, June 4th
Rating: Bee-G 13
Summary: It's not that Philip is oblivious to the event. It's just that Mirrors can go screw themselves, and if they're about to cross over, then he's going to be prepared.
The Story:
The Vendors
He doesn't need to see them. He doesn't care to see them. There is only one person on the other side that matters, and She was nowhere in sight so far. He knows how these things go, though, and he's willing to bet that the bastards are going to find a reason to slither over here, soon enough. Sure, not like his gun hasn't served him well enough when he needed it, but...
Philip sets one of his bronze statues down on the stall forcefully. The artefacts made for pretty good currency last time, and he hopes that the masked vendors appreciate the collector's value of a larger set.
"I need a new weapon," he says.
The vendor stares at him, equally unspeaking. He takes the statue, and it disappears up his sleeve. In its place he slides a piece of paper across the counter. Philip arches his eyebrows. He knows the pen is supposed to be mightier than the sword, but-- Frowning, he reads the instructions in his hands. Twice, just to be sure his eyes aren't- they aren't though, they really aren't. This... is actually what he thinks it is.
Philip folds the paper silently, and lets it disappear in his pocket.
A broad grin spreads across his features. He tents his fingers.
Of course.
Of course.
The Orchards
Briefly he thought about lab rats, or some other animal to force into helping his cause, but his heart wasn't really in it, not in the idea, nor in spending more currency on the vendors to find the proper specimen. If this works, he'll need it for extra ammunition soon enough.
Briefly he thought about asking for volunteers, but that'll only net him questions. Questions he doesn't feel like answering, before he's made sure that this project is really worth it. Well. Briefly he also thought about plainly waiting for an opportunity to use it in action, but- no, the trial run is important here.
So he sets up a dummy. Different than the ones he uses for shooting, insofar as that it's softer, that there's white linen wrapped around it, and that you should be able to see every hit- every sting more clearly.
Philip steps back a respectable distance. He looks from the jar in his hands to the dummy at his front. Nods decisively to himself. Then he pulls back his arm, lets go forcefully, and--
"Back, Jesus Christ, back, back, get back!"
--Gapes in mild terror at the person suddenly emerging from the trees, and the large jar of angry bees he's inevitably just hurled in their direction.
[[ OOC: Will match format! See here for info on how Philip is a.) mute and b.) communicates by transmitting his voice into people's heads ]]
Where: The Grounds
When: Saturday, June 4th
Rating: Bee-G 13
Summary: It's not that Philip is oblivious to the event. It's just that Mirrors can go screw themselves, and if they're about to cross over, then he's going to be prepared.
The Story:
The Vendors
He doesn't need to see them. He doesn't care to see them. There is only one person on the other side that matters, and She was nowhere in sight so far. He knows how these things go, though, and he's willing to bet that the bastards are going to find a reason to slither over here, soon enough. Sure, not like his gun hasn't served him well enough when he needed it, but...
Philip sets one of his bronze statues down on the stall forcefully. The artefacts made for pretty good currency last time, and he hopes that the masked vendors appreciate the collector's value of a larger set.
"I need a new weapon," he says.
The vendor stares at him, equally unspeaking. He takes the statue, and it disappears up his sleeve. In its place he slides a piece of paper across the counter. Philip arches his eyebrows. He knows the pen is supposed to be mightier than the sword, but-- Frowning, he reads the instructions in his hands. Twice, just to be sure his eyes aren't- they aren't though, they really aren't. This... is actually what he thinks it is.
Philip folds the paper silently, and lets it disappear in his pocket.
A broad grin spreads across his features. He tents his fingers.
Of course.
Of course.
The Orchards
Briefly he thought about lab rats, or some other animal to force into helping his cause, but his heart wasn't really in it, not in the idea, nor in spending more currency on the vendors to find the proper specimen. If this works, he'll need it for extra ammunition soon enough.
Briefly he thought about asking for volunteers, but that'll only net him questions. Questions he doesn't feel like answering, before he's made sure that this project is really worth it. Well. Briefly he also thought about plainly waiting for an opportunity to use it in action, but- no, the trial run is important here.
So he sets up a dummy. Different than the ones he uses for shooting, insofar as that it's softer, that there's white linen wrapped around it, and that you should be able to see every hit- every sting more clearly.
Philip steps back a respectable distance. He looks from the jar in his hands to the dummy at his front. Nods decisively to himself. Then he pulls back his arm, lets go forcefully, and--
"Back, Jesus Christ, back, back, get back!"
--Gapes in mild terror at the person suddenly emerging from the trees, and the large jar of angry bees he's inevitably just hurled in their direction.
[[ OOC: Will match format! See here for info on how Philip is a.) mute and b.) communicates by transmitting his voice into people's heads ]]
Also stealing Orchards because bwahahaha >.>
Still, he'd done a lot of experimenting with these bombs himself and knew exactly what they were capable of. And having at least had more than one fireball launched at him in the past, he's quick to roll and dodge out of the blast range, taking off at a run before the bees decide he's the threat in their new immediate vicinity.
"Maker's breath, you found a bee bomb!" he exclaims in delight as he dashes up to where Philip stands.
the orchards have room for everybeedy
Turns it into a slow and confused exhale, when there's suddenly no room for his heartfelt apology in this conversation anymore. He arches an eyebrow, instead.
"You're. Quite chipper for someone who's just had a jar of bees hurled at his face, but. You're welcome? Always happy to help?"
Right, well, but it obviously wasn't just that. So... recognition? Probably a good idea to supply his part of the story, then.
"--The vendors sold me an instruction manual, of sorts. So I'm guessing I've got your world to thank for that?"
beeautiful :D
"Oh, I'm used to it. You should have seen how many times I got stung when we were still perfecting the design." It's said with an easy nonchalance, his delight still lingering. "My friend Sera came up with them. One of her crazier ideas, but we had fun with them. Not all my companions agreed, but I usually only used them when I was out with Bull - they never seemed to pay him much mind. Spellcasters hated them. Apparently it's really hard to focus enough to get a spell off if you've got bees trying to sting you everywhere. I'd have more sympathy if they weren't always trying to drop a fireball on my head or zap me with lightning."
no subject
So maybe, just maybe, Philip's been wondering here and there, about the sort of people who'd hopelessly outrank him in a fight - and that's a lot of them. And maybe he didn't figure the solution would look like that, but he won't say no to considering it.
He looks at the dummy. The bees are still swarming around it, but they seem to be losing some ferocity.
"And your friend, is she here? I'll send a thank you card, you know. Or some festive bees of gratitude."
no subject
That's a joke. Probably.
....Nevermind, no it's really not.
"Sera? No. I've seen no sign of her yet, and she is one who normally makes quite the entrance. She can be stealthy enough when she wants to be, but she's a knack for mischief and can often be found nearby after it falls out, enjoying the fruits of her labor and cackling over it."
no subject
(Related note to self: Quiz the guy about the sort of thing that gets people killed or screwed up back at home. Sounds like he might have some additions for Philip's big book of terrible critters.)
"What's a Qunari, and how do you get them into a jar?"
no subject
And then blinks again.
And then.... excuse him, Philip, he needs a moment to fall over laughing at the very vivid mental image he got that he's certain Bull would not appreciate at all.
"Oh, Maker. You don't... we can't..." he manages to get out between hoots of laughter. "They're huge. Qunari. They're a race from the north. Ox-men, the southerners call them, which is about as accurate a description as any. They're a giant warrior race with these huge horns. Not fond of other races, and their appearance is as intimidating as anything you can find in my lands. The Iron Bull - a companion of mine who's one of them - I come maybe to his shoulder, and he wields an axe that's bigger than I am, if that gives you any hint."