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abraxaslogs2022-08-08 09:41 pm
castle) wrote in abraxaslogs2022-08-08 09:41 pm
[ open ]
Who: frank castle & anyone
What: finding work, trying out weapons, committing his first punisher act, visiting his horizon
Where: cadens, horizon
When: early-mid august
Warnings: violence, blood, murder, gore, possible mentions of family/child death
What: finding work, trying out weapons, committing his first punisher act, visiting his horizon
Where: cadens, horizon
When: early-mid august
Warnings: violence, blood, murder, gore, possible mentions of family/child death
[ eventually, it becomes clear enough that murdock was right β he isn't going anywhere. for a while, he swears under his breath, carrying a bit of frustration about the trap that he never even knew he'd stepped into, but in time, his shoulders ease from their tension, as a few thoughts drift to his mind. first, he won't have a problem surviving this place; he's been through war and worse, and if there's anything he's good at pulling off, it's adapting to his situation to stay standing. second, there isn't much waiting for him at home, nothing but a skull-painted vest and a mission that he could just as well carry on anywhere. ]
( A β cadens, day, streets ) [ as always, it starts off with needing work, figuring he could start off his time here with keeping his head low and getting his lay of the land while he builds on his resources. someone mentions a need for strong capable men to help take apart a damaged building, and though the pay isn't hefty, it's a start for saving up some cash (or coin, rather).
gripping the iron mallet tight in his hands, he gives it a powerful swing, the end of the mallet colliding hard with the rock wall before him. it takes him momentarily back to a time he pretended to be someone else β pete castiglione β a man starting a new life outside of his own tragedy. twice he'd tried to be that man, and twice he failed.
the way he swings, tough and tireless, it's clear enough that this is a man who knows what he's doing, perhaps a little too well, especially as he remains fairly visible to the public eye, his violent performance of tearing apart stone visible from the market streets. ]
( B β cadens, day, weapons shop ) [ he still can't properly afford any of the better weapons, even if he's succeeded in purchasing a new blade (simple but sufficient in its sharpness to do what he needs it to do. but he does roam the shops to allow himself a better idea of what it is he plans to purchase eventually. without the military grade weaponry that's a few centuries ahead of wherever the hell he is, he'll need to improvise.
though there are a few firearms visible, his eyes fall onto a large bow, sturdy and well-made. he isn't much for archery, but considering his options, it's not out of the question β long range and silent has its advantages.
when he asks the shopkeeper about allowing a little practice, the man denies him in doing so with the more valuable piece in his hands if he doesn't plan on purchasing and instead offers him a more simplistic model, at least similar enough to its size to give frank an idea on how to work it. given an arrow with a blunt end (frank snickers a little at the precaution), his fingers run across the string of the bow before drawing it back, positioning the arrow against it to try to get himself accustomed to the feel of a new weapon. ]
( C β cadens, night, alley β cw: violence, blood, murder, gore imagery ) [ he doesn't plan on taking action tonight, but he does. it's a walk along the empty streets in the late darkness of the night, working odd hours with his new temporary job, when he hears the haunting scream of an old woman. frank's quick on his feet when he races to turn the corner, but quite quick enough β
he sees it all happen in a matter of seconds: a robbery attempt, no doubt, from some man in rags, probably hoping the old woman would simply hand over the pouch of coins in exchange for her life. the man clearly doesn't account for her sudden scream, for the pitched sound that could draw attention to his act, that could get him caught. it's always the selfish panic that prompts the next move, when the knife he held at her throat suddenly moves fast, quick enough to put an end to the scream, just as he'd hoped, even if it hadn't been the way he'd planned it. stunned at his own ill planned robbery, the man only watches her fall to the ground for a split second before he nearly stumbles on his face racing to get away.
it's all mere seconds, too quick to stop, even if frank's mind works fast enough to process the scene, always the trained soldier who knows how to assess even in the face of tragedy, even when his own stomach flips ill before the rage surges in his chest.
when his feet move, he rushes first to the woman, where she gags on her own blood, brief enough that it isn't long before she stops altogether, but too long that she no doubt suffers towards her death. there was never a chance to save her.
but there's still a chance to get the filth that did this to her.
with the iron mallet from his masonry work still hanging on his belt, he grips it hard, pulling it free before grasping the end, letting it swing briefly from his hand before he begins to move, marching fast in the direction the man ran. in the late quiet of the night, it isn't hard to hear the panicked panting breaths as they try to get away, making it easy to track him down from alley to alley, up until he finds him trapped in a dead end, struggling to scramble in climbing a wooden fence.
his own steps move slow, boots quietly marching along the ground, squelching against wet mud. calm and steady, he's barely even heard as he steps up behind the man clutching at the edge of the fence before he swings the mallet, the iron end colliding hard as the man's knee, instantly breaking the bone.
the scream that results from it is even louder than the old woman's had been, as the man loses his grip of the fence and falls backwards several feet, landing hard upon the ground where he whimpers in sobbing, desperate cries. frank moves to stand over him, lifting the mallet slowly to press the iron head over the man's mouth to muffle away the sound of his sobs. ]
Really thought you'd get away with it, huh? [ considering the situation, his voice is calm, a deep gravel like a rumble through the night's chill. it's more terrorizing than if he'd been screaming with rage. ] Guess pieces of shit like you can be found anywhere.
[ always the stink of scum wherever he goes. always up to him to get rid of it.
he sighs softly through his nose. ] She didn't deserve that. [ briefly quietly, somber, like a gentle whisper of mourning β before his teeth practically snarl with his next biting words. ] But you do.
[ and with that, he lifts the mallet again, this time for another swing, downwards hard and quick. with the echo of a rough crack, the man's screams cease completely. ]
( D β horizon β cw: blood, possible future mentions of family/child death ) [ murdock had brought him to a place like this, a place of the mind or some shit. a bit of voodoo magic bullshit that he wanted no part in, and yet he's here.
and what is "here"? some, if they've been there, would know it as a small piece of central park, specifically where the carousel is well lit up, bright enough to light up the night, the kind of music that would play at a county fair echoing from its speakers. the horses lift up and down as they go along their designated circular track. there's no one on the ride, but it's almost like anyone could almost hear a faint laughter between the cheerful melody.
the bench that faces it is in perfect view of the scene, almost as if it'd been placed there purposefully to seat its audience of one. frank castle sits upon its center, staring at the moving carousel in silence, face coated with spatters of blood, enough to hint that it isn't his but not enough to disguise the sadness behind it, eyes mournful as they look upon the circling horses, fingers curling against his knees to keep his hands from shaking. ]
( E β wild card ) ( options A-C are open to anyone around cadens, while option D is open to anyone from anywhere. for option C, feel free to approach it in any number of ways, whether it's seeing frank in the act or catching it immediately afterwards, or even just catching frank leaving the scene with a bloody mallet. i'm open to discussing scenarios and if none of the prompts work and you'd still like to do something else, i'm open to chat things up too! )
( A β cadens, day, streets ) [ as always, it starts off with needing work, figuring he could start off his time here with keeping his head low and getting his lay of the land while he builds on his resources. someone mentions a need for strong capable men to help take apart a damaged building, and though the pay isn't hefty, it's a start for saving up some cash (or coin, rather).
gripping the iron mallet tight in his hands, he gives it a powerful swing, the end of the mallet colliding hard with the rock wall before him. it takes him momentarily back to a time he pretended to be someone else β pete castiglione β a man starting a new life outside of his own tragedy. twice he'd tried to be that man, and twice he failed.
the way he swings, tough and tireless, it's clear enough that this is a man who knows what he's doing, perhaps a little too well, especially as he remains fairly visible to the public eye, his violent performance of tearing apart stone visible from the market streets. ]
( B β cadens, day, weapons shop ) [ he still can't properly afford any of the better weapons, even if he's succeeded in purchasing a new blade (simple but sufficient in its sharpness to do what he needs it to do. but he does roam the shops to allow himself a better idea of what it is he plans to purchase eventually. without the military grade weaponry that's a few centuries ahead of wherever the hell he is, he'll need to improvise.
though there are a few firearms visible, his eyes fall onto a large bow, sturdy and well-made. he isn't much for archery, but considering his options, it's not out of the question β long range and silent has its advantages.
when he asks the shopkeeper about allowing a little practice, the man denies him in doing so with the more valuable piece in his hands if he doesn't plan on purchasing and instead offers him a more simplistic model, at least similar enough to its size to give frank an idea on how to work it. given an arrow with a blunt end (frank snickers a little at the precaution), his fingers run across the string of the bow before drawing it back, positioning the arrow against it to try to get himself accustomed to the feel of a new weapon. ]
( C β cadens, night, alley β cw: violence, blood, murder, gore imagery ) [ he doesn't plan on taking action tonight, but he does. it's a walk along the empty streets in the late darkness of the night, working odd hours with his new temporary job, when he hears the haunting scream of an old woman. frank's quick on his feet when he races to turn the corner, but quite quick enough β
he sees it all happen in a matter of seconds: a robbery attempt, no doubt, from some man in rags, probably hoping the old woman would simply hand over the pouch of coins in exchange for her life. the man clearly doesn't account for her sudden scream, for the pitched sound that could draw attention to his act, that could get him caught. it's always the selfish panic that prompts the next move, when the knife he held at her throat suddenly moves fast, quick enough to put an end to the scream, just as he'd hoped, even if it hadn't been the way he'd planned it. stunned at his own ill planned robbery, the man only watches her fall to the ground for a split second before he nearly stumbles on his face racing to get away.
it's all mere seconds, too quick to stop, even if frank's mind works fast enough to process the scene, always the trained soldier who knows how to assess even in the face of tragedy, even when his own stomach flips ill before the rage surges in his chest.
when his feet move, he rushes first to the woman, where she gags on her own blood, brief enough that it isn't long before she stops altogether, but too long that she no doubt suffers towards her death. there was never a chance to save her.
but there's still a chance to get the filth that did this to her.
with the iron mallet from his masonry work still hanging on his belt, he grips it hard, pulling it free before grasping the end, letting it swing briefly from his hand before he begins to move, marching fast in the direction the man ran. in the late quiet of the night, it isn't hard to hear the panicked panting breaths as they try to get away, making it easy to track him down from alley to alley, up until he finds him trapped in a dead end, struggling to scramble in climbing a wooden fence.
his own steps move slow, boots quietly marching along the ground, squelching against wet mud. calm and steady, he's barely even heard as he steps up behind the man clutching at the edge of the fence before he swings the mallet, the iron end colliding hard as the man's knee, instantly breaking the bone.
the scream that results from it is even louder than the old woman's had been, as the man loses his grip of the fence and falls backwards several feet, landing hard upon the ground where he whimpers in sobbing, desperate cries. frank moves to stand over him, lifting the mallet slowly to press the iron head over the man's mouth to muffle away the sound of his sobs. ]
Really thought you'd get away with it, huh? [ considering the situation, his voice is calm, a deep gravel like a rumble through the night's chill. it's more terrorizing than if he'd been screaming with rage. ] Guess pieces of shit like you can be found anywhere.
[ always the stink of scum wherever he goes. always up to him to get rid of it.
he sighs softly through his nose. ] She didn't deserve that. [ briefly quietly, somber, like a gentle whisper of mourning β before his teeth practically snarl with his next biting words. ] But you do.
[ and with that, he lifts the mallet again, this time for another swing, downwards hard and quick. with the echo of a rough crack, the man's screams cease completely. ]
( D β horizon β cw: blood, possible future mentions of family/child death ) [ murdock had brought him to a place like this, a place of the mind or some shit. a bit of voodoo magic bullshit that he wanted no part in, and yet he's here.
and what is "here"? some, if they've been there, would know it as a small piece of central park, specifically where the carousel is well lit up, bright enough to light up the night, the kind of music that would play at a county fair echoing from its speakers. the horses lift up and down as they go along their designated circular track. there's no one on the ride, but it's almost like anyone could almost hear a faint laughter between the cheerful melody.
the bench that faces it is in perfect view of the scene, almost as if it'd been placed there purposefully to seat its audience of one. frank castle sits upon its center, staring at the moving carousel in silence, face coated with spatters of blood, enough to hint that it isn't his but not enough to disguise the sadness behind it, eyes mournful as they look upon the circling horses, fingers curling against his knees to keep his hands from shaking. ]
( E β wild card ) ( options A-C are open to anyone around cadens, while option D is open to anyone from anywhere. for option C, feel free to approach it in any number of ways, whether it's seeing frank in the act or catching it immediately afterwards, or even just catching frank leaving the scene with a bloody mallet. i'm open to discussing scenarios and if none of the prompts work and you'd still like to do something else, i'm open to chat things up too! )