sixthiterationlogs | [ MINGLE ] MINING EXPEDITION

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[ MINGLE ] MINING EXPEDITION

WHO: Tony Stark & Co.
WHERE: North West Mountain Range
WHEN: November 5th - 8th
OPEN TO: Open to all
WARNINGS: Language, canon typical violence

The Hike Up/Down

After sending a message out the day before to meet him in the fountain park at dawn (daylight is important) Tony packs up. Supplies secured and a path found mostly by working himself up (not that difficult) and following the blue path only he can see (still weird) Tony guides his modest expedition up a winding way over rivers and to a promising stony outcropping at the base of the mountains before needing a moment to 're-calibrate'. AkA get stressed out as to where to head next for optimal ore extraction. It takes a minute but- again, he's got a lot of anxieties to kick into gear and it should be easy enough to nudge their rag tag little group further up until they find the right spot. Making an easy walk down- well. That's also a trick. Finding a quick path back to the village before they lose the light- marking the way they've come so they can find it the next day? Kind of important.

Digging a Hole

Breaking ground is a matter of staring, trying to think back to what little he knows of geology (not fucking much), and waiting for the anxiety to get to the point where it'll hand him something specific. They need ore, they need a good starting location, and once they manage to pinpoint it? Pickaxes are handed out, a nearby cave explored, and Tony strips down to get to work. Crack stone, haul it out, rinse, repeat. Anything usable gets put in sacks made from stolen sheets to be hauled down- not the best system he's got but they're just getting started. Regular breaks are A thing, canteens of water passed around- he's pretty sure there's a stream somewhere that should help with the 'not dying of thirst' issue in the future.

Encounters With Natives

Somewhere on the hike up, during the dig, or taking a rest on one of the craggy boulders surrounding the cave where they're chipping away at stone, signs of native fauna linger. There's a patchy nest looking thing where one can hear the mewling of peakittens, blue eyed, tiny, and abandoned by the looks of it. Loping about the slopes a few curious mountain elk that bound in at the sign of food, keeping a cautious distance but wandering close should anyone appear friendly. Near the woods, though, just as they wind their way up- or make their way back down at the end of the day? Dust Moths have taken to the air, shimmering wings leaving powder in the air.

Environmental Effects

During the hike up in the predawn there's lying mist clinging to the sides of the mountain in thin curls, swirling in the air as they hike through it. Careful not to inhale too deeply, otherwise you might find yourself a little more honest than you'd like for most of the morning, and that could make the rest of the hike pretty damn awkward. In the caves proper there's stone and ore enough- and a dark, black powder that tastes of licorice and ash. Shadow dust. Maybe the next few swings don't do as much damage- or do any at all. Maybe they picking up stone becomes impossible till you're in the light.

In Too Deep

On the second, maybe the third day all their activity and digging catches some aggressive attention. A pickaxe sunk too deep, cracking through a cave wall and finding a den of snarling, hungry cave wolves that spill through the hole all snapping teeth and snarling claws, bursting out of the tunnels to scatter whoever's dared to come close to their home. A tree felled to mark their path startles a giant boar into charging, bellowing in the night, turning tusk and muscle to clear it's own way through their weary line.

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Enviromental Effects

Alex volunteered to serve as a medic and on-hand safari guide of sorts, but he's been largely quiet for much of the hike, content to keep adding to his notes every time he notices something new about some of the local wildlife, or sees anything else that strikes him as odd for this kind of climate.

With so many other people in conversation with each other, or occupied with the trip itself, he's content to keep to himself, cleaning and bandaging wounds (you do not ever attempt stitches in the field unless you want to court sepsis), checking for sprains and making sure no one gets overworked or dehydrated.

When the Lying Mist rolls in, he's in the last stretch of his turn at sharing a kept watch while the rest of the camp sleeps.

Peacat Dad

Later in to the trip, thanks to Tony and the others who found them, Alex finds himself with the self-appointed task of caring for a litter of abandoned very young peacock cats.

While he's used to caring for one avian/feline hybrid creature back home, keeping track of several is proving to be more challenging than he expected. The peakittens may not fly, but as their bellies fill and they grow more used to being around humans, it gets a little harder to keep them all in one place.

He can often be found throughout the trip using a fabric-covered hand to scoop up a wandering kitten from attempting to climb someone's leg, or into their packs when camp is set up and he lets them out roam out of their improvised carrier.

At least they already seem to recognize him as a source of food and body heat, so the sight of him covered in the little fuzzy-feathery creatures isn't terribly uncommon either, though he's minimizing any skin contact in order to keep his senses sharp.

Nurse Price

Alex may have a doctorate and an elaborate understanding of biology, but he is not actually a doctor for humans. But, his mother is one of the world's best medics for cryptids and humans alike, so he is at least competent with a first aid kit. He wishes this one had the unicorn water and Jorlac blood that his kit at home had, but it'll do.

In Too Deep: The Crocodog Hunter

And here we see Alex in his natural habitat. Well, maybe not a cave, specifically, but if there's any natural habitat for a Price, it's facing off against bizarre wildlife.

Facing off against it while trying desperately not to actually kill it.

"Not yet, not yet," he calls out to anyone preparing to fire an arrow at the cave wolves, running towards the sounds of scared people and growling animals, with a fabric bundle loosely tied at the top.

"Stand back and clear the area," he calls out, the normally timid nerd suddenly sounding authoritative and confident. Once he's mostly sure there's sufficient space, he lobs the bundle at the ground where the wolves are clustered, and it releases a plume of fine dark powder upon impact.

He really hopes they're not immune to shadow dust.

The closest 7 ever came to worrying about being attacked by an animal was the cat-skull that made up the Beast's head. She pauses for a moment in the trek to stretch, taking a look into the living wilderness around them.

During this time, she feels something tugging at her pantleg, a little weight, and looks down to see a peakitten trying to make its way up her leg and mewling.

She freezes for a moment, caught between knowing not to harm a young thing, and yet being so unfamiliar with how animals like this actually work. Taking her spear, she tries to wedge the butt-end of it between her peg and the kitten to gently pry it off.

"Off ... off ..."

"Here' I've got him," says the man running after the wandering kitten. Most of them are sleeping contentedly on top of one another, but one of them seems intent on escape artistry. At least it's one of the brightly colored males, making it so much easier to spot. It helps that their legs are still a little stumpy and wobbly, so the little Houdini is easy to catch up with.

Using a rag as a barrier between himself and the kittens fur, he scoops it up, effectively swaddling the little birdcat. "He didn't get on your skin, did he? It's not dangerous, but you might want to stick to simple manual labor til the bliss effect wears off."

He's already trying to suss out just how the creatures are secreting this- whether it's more akin to feline pheremones, or something from their diet, like a non-toxic (as far as he can tell) version of the hooded pitohui.

7 watches Alex repossess the peakitten, noting the way he's not touching it with his hands. She glances at the butt of her spear where she'd been pressing it away.

"I don't think so ... bliss effect?" He said it's not dangerous, but she's still looking warily at the little thing. "And you people are ... keeping them?"

"It's a very mild effect," Alex says, with patience, but also a tiny bit of defensiveness as he cradles the young birdcat (chickitten?) in the crook of one arm.

"They're also really useful for pest control," he adds. "We're going to need something besides poison to keep mice and rats at bay for the winter. Especially with our sudden influx of grain from the cornfield."

She hears that tone and watches the way he's coddling it. It's such a foreign idea to her; animals in general, and keeping them as pets.

"I guess ... I'm just not used to animals being ... I'm not used to animals." She gives up trying to justify it and lets him have that small bit of truth. "You people seem to like them, though, so maybe there's something to it?"

You people.

Well, that has Alex intrigued. She doesn't have quite the right coloration to be a Jorlac, he thinks, but there is still something about her that makes him think of his cousin. The one he'd been helping his grandparents take care of back home.

"Humans do tend to form bonds with other species very easily," Alex confirms. "I should know, I work at a zoo. There are people who coo at the crocodiles and cobras just like some people would at the tiger cubs." He is one of those people, to be perfectly honest.

That - was a slip. She'd been trying to maintain some kind of understanding that she was normal human like the rest of them, but he wasn't really talking like he was either.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to backtrack and cite a mistake, try to double-down on the lie, or lean a little more into the truth. "Mmm-hmmm. We didn't really have animals to bond with, I guess."

Rinoa is trying to be as useful as she can be in the situation. She isn't as strong as some of the others, but she can still dig, and she can also carry things around and assist with the water. She's in good spirits now that she's being active and trying to make new friends. And not distract Squall from what he's doing. She glances over and sees the man covered in what appear to be adorable kittens.

"Oh look at those! How cute!" She's seen animals like them, but they are a very unique breed all the same. "Here let me help you." He probably is a little overwhelmed since there's more than a few. Luckily she is wearing gloves at the moment, so immediately snagging one doesn't do anything to her ... yet.

"Careful about skin contact," Alex warns, but doesn't make any motions to stop her, however- the more help he can get being the manny to a litter of kittens while on what he would call the camping trip from hell, if his family hadn't already subjected him to much worse adventures in the wilderness.

"They secrete something that has an intoxicating effect on humans. And possibly the non-humans." He'd have to hand one to Bull when he got home, and the Qunari isn't responsible for anyone's safety. Nevermind Alex's responsibility to tend to minor injuries and triage-ing anyone hurt beyond that towards someone more used to treating patients that talked.

"If normal cats could do this, they'd definitely be ruling us all by now."

Rinoa's eyes widen at the warning and she looks down at the kitten in her hands. It looks so innocent! But then he explains and she relaxes. So not dangerous, just ... odd. "Wow, so touching them can make you feel drugged?" That's like nothing she's ever heard before. Monsters are capable of doing many things where she's from, including various types of magic, but it's different and less malicious in this case. She gently strokes the kitten's head with her gloved fingers and it seems content. She's always been more of a dog person, but her heart is already weakening.

"It looks like they were abandoned here. The poor things." They can't possibly survive on their own at this age, she knows that much. She looks up at him. "We'll have to take them back, right? Do you think they can eat food like any other animals, or will we have to figure out a milk situation?" The wheels are turning in her head. "I know there are animals around that have that."

"I've been rehydrating meat from my pack for them. Have all their teeth and their eyes are open, but I'm going to see if any other animals back at the village are nursing. I spend enough time around the livestock, I should be able to figure something out for them," he says thoughtfully.

"Two or three weeks, and they should be ready to be adopted out around the village."

Rinoa listens to him intently, and it sounds like he knows exactly what he's talking about, so she relaxes. The kittens will be okay with someone in the community knowing what to do. Her heart bleeds easily, so the idea of these poor things having no future would probably make her cry for a week. "If I can help in any way, please let me know, I love animals. I'm Rinoa." She is very careful as she brings the kitten to her chest where there's fabric in the way so it can rest comfortably there.

"Can I volunteer now? Squall won't mind." Well, he probably wouldn't mind, but he usually accepts whatever Rinoa asks for and she uses that to her advantage. "I've always had dogs but I'm sure I could learn to care for a cat."

"If you're up for the risk of them being really high-maintenance pets," Alex agrees, nodding almost enthusiastically at the thought of getting others to take the kittens off him once they're old enough.

"Hopefully I'll have enough figured out about their care to figure out at least a basic care and feeding guide. But I'm guessing they'll take care of a lot of the feeding themselves."

"I'm not afraid of that at all. I'll make sure we both have gloves to wear." It doesn't take much approval from someone for Rinoa to light up, and she looks at the kitten to try and make sure she knows its markings. She'll keep a hand on it going back, just in case, but she wants to make sure she remembers this one. They've already chosen each other, apparently!

"It's very interesting, isn't it? I read there's moths that can make you forget things, and frogs that paralyze you on contact." Rinoa is the type to do the smart thing and read through everything at the inn in her first few days. She doesn't remember everything in it, but she's at a disadvantage already, knowing very little about how to survive on her own. "I know there are others. I wonder if they're native only to this island or if they're from another place too, as stuck as we are."

Thankfully, his hands still had their calluses from years of fighting. Here, now, they were serving him well. He both mined and climbed without difficulty except for the aches of muscles that were underused slowly coming to life.

What he had noticed was that his energy had returned to what it had been when his body matched his mind. As others slept, he woke, and he came to join the current watch, looking at the growing mist with unease and making a deliberate amount of sound so as not to startle. "Has it been quiet so far?"

"Mhmm, a little more quiet than I'm used to," Alex finds himself almost compelled to share. But he writes this off as just the effect of being in a place where his last name doesn't mean someone, somewhere, intends to kill him.

"It's funny. The weather, the plants- everything here is so much like home for me. But it's missing just enough of the right details to sell the lie enough for me to relax." He can smell the pine needles on the ground, and the smell of coastal air- but the constant chirping of the frickens in the trees is gone, not to mention the absence of the hymns of the mice.

"It is nothing like my home," Altaïr answered, "but the mountain, the stones - that puts me in mind of all the years I spent there and all the years I missed." Odd how it seemed to simply... leave him, those words. Those pieces of his life. But they were nigh inconsequential. He thought little of it, deciding it was the vulnerability of night, where conversations often turned serious, even between acquaintances.

And that made him realise: "I believe we've yet to be introduced. I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad."

"Alex Price," he says, without any hesitation at all.

Huh. That's different. Maybe living somewhere he doesn't have to lie to nearly every other human being (and some non-human beings) about his name is finally sinking in. He tries not to think about it.

"Where is it you're from? I'd love to hear about it." Hearing stories of other peoples homes, it's a nice reminder that he's not the only one ripped away from familiarity. Of course, that's only part of it. The genuine, ravenous curiosity that filled his boyhood bedroom with terrariums and tanks to better understand the world around him might not make him the best conversationalist, but he's a damn good listener.

"The area of the world - the Europeans call it the Levant. I have always known it as the Ash-Shaam. I was born in the citadel of Masyaf, high in the mountains, at the end of a canyon. We were an independent state called the Nizari Ismaili. With all of the stone of the mountain and the canyon, we had very little land to grow foods near to the citadel itself, but our stoneworkers were the best outside of Alep," he answered. They were answers he would normally give, but more... in-depth, he noted, wondering what it was that brought this about. Not that he minded answering these things, but he knew he would need to be cautious about the Brotherhood. He'd cautioned himself about it since his arrival. Why was he growing loose-tongued now?

Alex's eyebrows raise in surprise as he follows what the other man says. There's a bit of a journey in his facial features as the mental math starts adding up. "Do- do you know what year it was the last you remember?" he asks, and then quickly specifies. "By the Roman calendar, I mean."

He had no compunctions against answering that. "If the Roman calendar echoes the Christian calendar, I do. It was my ninety-second year: the year 1257. We emptied Masyaf in the face of the Mongol invasion. I sent my son away."

Alex makes no attempt to hide his shock and amazement- since he can't. "That's- wow, that's long, long before my time," he says, stumbling over his words a bit. "It was 2015 where they took me from. Or when.

And then he starts matching up what he knows of the history of his world- more specifically, the cryptid part of it. He thinks back to the Covenant purges he knows about around the time of the Crusades- which, honestly, it's hard to tell because they overlapped a lot in those days.

"Unless you had a bit of a chimera overpopulation that was summarily wiped out by fanatics within a decade or two of your last memory of home, I doubt I'm from your world's future."

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eaglesonofnone - 2018-11-26 01:21 (UTC) - Expand

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cryptoherpetology - 2018-11-27 14:25 (UTC) - Expand

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eaglesonofnone - 2018-11-28 01:49 (UTC) - Expand

Having gotten a facefull of the dust himself not long ago- the first wolf sort of leaps right fucking through Tony which-

Fucking weird, fucking uncomfortable, and fucking concerning seeing as Alex is hauling up to do something clever and heroic (as seems his way, A+ on timing, B- on pocket sand tactics), there's no way of knowing how long it takes but-

The wolf sneezes, wheels, and slams halfway into the stony side of the cave. Clipping Tony (who isn't entirely solid himself) as he skitters backward. "Nice plan!"

Seriously, excellent improv. "Remind me to buy you a beer. When we have beer."

"I was keeping it to try and study it a bit more," Alex admits. "I guess I'll need a new sample now. But- it seemed like a better solution than killing them. It's only natural for them to want to protect their territory. I have no idea how long that much will last, though."

He extends a hand and passes it through Tony's shoulder. "You won't mind if I keep an eye on this, take some notes, maybe?"

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[ MINGLE ] MINING EXPEDITION

Alex Price | OTA

Peacat Dad

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Peacat Da

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Environmental Effects

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Crocdog Hunter

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