"Oh, this is not good," Jack mutters to himself in Spanish as he picks himself up from the garage floor and has a good look around. Shadowy portals to strange ruined places are never a good thing. Also, they make it harder for Ted to find him, because who knows how far they've dropped him from home?
He dusts himself off and starts looking for some sign of where he is, of maybe a pay phone, or even another portal to step through to get back to the alleyway he'd been catching a breather in before falling through here.
He winds up staring at the husks for while in baffled anxiety, making absolutely no attempt at touching them because he is not stupid, and the spray paint. "Moon warps?" he reads aloud, and peers up through the patchy clouds to try and find said moon. He doesn't like the sound of that. He already has his own issues with the moon, he doesn't need more.
II. Monster Attack
The warning gives Jack at least enough time to look around and spot the monsters before one of them gets close enough to take a swing. He makes a sound embarrassingly like a "meep" and drops into a roll that takes him out of range again.
He bolts for the Convoy and the cars. At the very least, a car will be shelter: at best, it will be a means of escape. He finds himself washed up against a massive rusty RV, one which he's pretty sure the key he grabbed on his way out is a match for, trying to fend off an alligator thing with his foot, because what else is he going to use?
"Nice lizard, good lizard, I promise I am not at all tasty!" he tries, to no avail. Somebody come help him out, here? He's not a fighter and these things don't want to listen to reason!
III. Monster Attack - 3B
When the first raccoon dog explodes and singes his sleeves and the insides of his nose-- ow!-- Jack quickly gets the idea to use them as weapons. He can't fight, won't fight even if he could, but he has no qualms against throwing things.
Catch him darting by and grabbing a bombadgy to hurl at the nearest knot of monsters. He pumps his fist in victory when the poor thing blows up and sends the plant-things flying in all directly, clearly on fire. It's a little weird to feel exhilarated by blowing things up, he's never really been one for explosions or for killing things when in his normal human form, but considering they're clearly trying to kill them, he's not going to worry too much about it.
IV. Wind Down
Jack patches himself up, what little patching up is required when most of what he did was run away or throw living bombs at things, and sets about doing the same for anyone else he comes across. "I know first aid," he says, holding up a stale and rusty looking kit he found in the RV which at least has some useful bits left.
He also takes the chance now to scavenge whatever's left in the gas station and garage, avoiding the husks like the plague but collecting as much as he can fit in his arms, pockets, and the pillowcase he found in the RV. He doesn't hoard it-- well, not most of it-- instead he goes around to the other cars and the Convoy to pass out bottles of water or room-temperature iced tea, expired packages of chips or pretzels, and very stale cookies. "It's food, even if it's not great," he offers.
Jack Russell | Werewolf by Night
"Oh, this is not good," Jack mutters to himself in Spanish as he picks himself up from the garage floor and has a good look around. Shadowy portals to strange ruined places are never a good thing. Also, they make it harder for Ted to find him, because who knows how far they've dropped him from home?
He dusts himself off and starts looking for some sign of where he is, of maybe a pay phone, or even another portal to step through to get back to the alleyway he'd been catching a breather in before falling through here.
He winds up staring at the husks for while in baffled anxiety, making absolutely no attempt at touching them because he is not stupid, and the spray paint. "Moon warps?" he reads aloud, and peers up through the patchy clouds to try and find said moon. He doesn't like the sound of that. He already has his own issues with the moon, he doesn't need more.
II. Monster Attack
The warning gives Jack at least enough time to look around and spot the monsters before one of them gets close enough to take a swing. He makes a sound embarrassingly like a "meep" and drops into a roll that takes him out of range again.
He bolts for the Convoy and the cars. At the very least, a car will be shelter: at best, it will be a means of escape. He finds himself washed up against a massive rusty RV, one which he's pretty sure the key he grabbed on his way out is a match for, trying to fend off an alligator thing with his foot, because what else is he going to use?
"Nice lizard, good lizard, I promise I am not at all tasty!" he tries, to no avail. Somebody come help him out, here? He's not a fighter and these things don't want to listen to reason!
III. Monster Attack - 3B
When the first raccoon dog explodes and singes his sleeves and the insides of his nose-- ow!-- Jack quickly gets the idea to use them as weapons. He can't fight, won't fight even if he could, but he has no qualms against throwing things.
Catch him darting by and grabbing a bombadgy to hurl at the nearest knot of monsters. He pumps his fist in victory when the poor thing blows up and sends the plant-things flying in all directly, clearly on fire. It's a little weird to feel exhilarated by blowing things up, he's never really been one for explosions or for killing things when in his normal human form, but considering they're clearly trying to kill them, he's not going to worry too much about it.
IV. Wind Down
Jack patches himself up, what little patching up is required when most of what he did was run away or throw living bombs at things, and sets about doing the same for anyone else he comes across. "I know first aid," he says, holding up a stale and rusty looking kit he found in the RV which at least has some useful bits left.
He also takes the chance now to scavenge whatever's left in the gas station and garage, avoiding the husks like the plague but collecting as much as he can fit in his arms, pockets, and the pillowcase he found in the RV. He doesn't hoard it-- well, not most of it-- instead he goes around to the other cars and the Convoy to pass out bottles of water or room-temperature iced tea, expired packages of chips or pretzels, and very stale cookies. "It's food, even if it's not great," he offers.