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Test Drive 01

TEST DRIVE

Hello, and welcome to the first Pluviosa Test Drive!

Rather than a series of prompts that are set after arrival to the game, this Test Drive is instead more of a soft open for the game. That is to say, not only are Test Drive threads game canon, but the Test Drive should be regarded as the "start" of the game chronologically and contains arrival-related events and information.

Or lack of information, as the case in fact is, because there is no greeting party waiting to reassure characters that everything is fine back in their worlds and that they'll get to go home again. (On the flip side, there's no one telling them that their worlds have been destroyed, either.) There is only the ship, the things inside it, the raging storm outside, and what characters can figure out for themselves.

It is advised that potential players familiarize themselves with the Premise page, the Rules/Session Zero page, and at least the first few paragraphs of the Setting page. As Pluviosa is a horror game, we especially encourage players to be aware of the content warnings that will be major themes of the game.

ARRIVAL

(cw: minor blood, visions, storm weather)

The first thing you become aware of is the sound of dripping. Your mind is fogged, as though woken from the wrong part of your sleep cycle. In your daze, you're convinced that the sound of dripping is blood. Yours? Someone else's? You can't be sure. It's dripping from somewhere. It's your fault, whichever it is.

Good. One way or another, you'll be free of this nightmare -

And then, in response to the sound of a crack of thunder outside, clarity returns.

Characters come around as though disturbed from a deep sleep. Once they have shaken off the (vision? impression?) of blood, they will find that the dripping sound, at least, was real. Fortunately, it's only water - rainwater, more than likely, judging from the occasional booms of thunder and flashes of lightning overhead. One hell of a storm, quite possibly the worst characters have ever experienced, is raging outside.

Outside where? Well, outside the ship, of course.

As a general rule, characters wake up in a random room of the first level of the ship below the main decks. Theoretically, this should be a relatively safe, dry place - but with the age of the ship, its state of disrepair, and the number of plants above that have dug their roots into the deck above, leaks are plentiful. Thus, the sound of dripping water is a constant even in enclosed areas - and, of course, the outside of the ship is being pounded by rain in shimmering sheets, adding to the cacophony of noise accented by the thunder.

Even the protective bubble over the deck itself and the balconies of the rooms is having trouble working to keep the rain out - the rain isn't terrifying hurricane levels, but it is steady and water floods steadily down the stairs and over the edges of the gap down the center of the ship. The worst of the wind, too, has been kept out, but occasional gusts send ripples through the rain.

There is no power inside the ship right now and barely any light besides the flash of lightning - although characters may arrive while it is nominally day, the clouds stretching from horizon to horizon have blocked out the sun almost completely. The motion of the ship is also far worse than usual due to the storm winds - it's easy to believe that you are in fact at sea, unless you manage to get close enough to the exterior windows or balconies to be able to see the ship's legs in motion through the cascade of water that runs down the exterior.

SEEING IS BELIEVING

(cw: hallucinations, thinking things that are real are hallucinations)

In the dark, you have to rely on your other senses - hearing, sound, smell. Smell is giving you the best information to start out with - rain, of course, but also mildew, plants, and old metal. (Is that a whiff of blood at the bottom? No, it's because of that bad dream you had messing with your head.)

No one comes to greet you. No one comes to find you. Instinctively, you know - no one is coming. You'll have to save yourself.

Characters will be fully convinced that they are alone until they actually run into another character. Even things that seem like they should be indicative of another person's presence, such as hearing voices or seeing someone shine a light down a hallway - your character will be convinced that that is just a hallucination until they can definitely lay eyes on another person, hear their voice clearly (ie: not half-drowned-out by the rain) or otherwise be certain of their presence.

That isn't to say that hallucinations aren't occurring. All characters, but especially those who are alone, will periodically hear murmuring voices, smell blood, smoke, and other scents reminiscent of destruction, and see what appear to be the flashes of flashlights, flickering lightbulbs, and the shadows of people walking around. These hallucinations fade in and out in intensity, but they always clear up for at least a little while when a character notices the sound of thunder. Given that the thunder is very frequent during the storm (every few minutes), most hallucinations won't last for long.

For most characters, the voices will be unintelligible murmurs. However, if your character has experienced an event of mass destruction at some point in their life (apocalypse or near-apocalypse, destruction of a city, volcano eruption, being the only survivor of a town that was slaughtered, etc), or has a connection to the dead, they will be able to pick out that the voices of the hallucinations are talking about either attempting to rescue people from something similar (eg: a distant voice shouting "there's someone still alive over here!") or, alternately, talking about how everything is lost, everyone is doomed now, etc. They may hear one type of voice or both at different times, at player discretion.

TO RUN ITS COURSE

(cw: dead loved ones, hallucinations/delusions, violence, potential death. THIS PROMPT CONTAINS PVP OPTIONS.)

You're not supposed to be alone. There was someone with you, only a few hours or years or minutes or lifetimes ago. You weren't always alone, and you have to find them.

You'll find them. You do. But not in any kind of condition to keep you company. This lump of flesh is empty now. The plants are already growing over it, reclaiming it. There's blood in the soil, and there's the sound of someone else coming up behind you.

Someone is coming. You'll have to save yourself.

There are various heaps of organic debris that characters can stumble across when wandering around in the dark - piled up leaves, rotted plants, heaps of ferns, moss, and so on. Even solid wood, sometimes - the trunks of small, twisted trees that took root where they might and have grown out from balconies to the exterior or inwards down the jungled crevasse between the two halves of the ship. In the low light, it's easy to literally stumble across them, or mistake them for something else in the brief light of a flash of lightning.

It's the mistaking them for something else that could be a problem. Characters may find themselves absolutely convinced that these heaps of leaves are the body of a loved one - especially if they were wandering around looking for someone in particular. They may or may not accurately perceive leaf cover on the outside of the "body," but unless they dig their hands in enough to be sure of the heap's contents - but who would want to go digging their hands into the body of someone they love? - or they see the shape in clear lighting (which would have to be provided by another character), it will be near impossible to convince them that the pile is just that, and not a corpse.

But that's not the really dangerous part. The dangerous part of all this is that if someone unexpected approaches while the character is in the same room as the 'body,' they may become convinced that the new arrival is responsible for their loved one's death. It doesn't matter how illogical it is on the surface - fear, or rage, or whatever it is that might fuel them will turn on the stranger. And whatever it is that convinces them of this has also turned their fight-or-flight reflex solidly to fight, whether it's for revenge or the last chance at survival for a cornered rat.

Characters so affected will fight until one of the following occurs: If they are led out of sight of the 'body,' they return to their senses (given that they may be inclined to chase the 'perpetrator,' this may be the best non-violent way to resolve the issue). If they are convinced that the 'body' is fake (through physical contact or clear lighting as above), they also return to their senses. And finally, if they kill the 'perpetrator' or are themselves killed or knocked unconscious, the effect ends. In all of these cases, it ends with the sharpness of a rubber band snapped against the skin, and the character is fully aware of their altered mental state and what occurred as a result.

If your character dies as a result of this prompt (and you want that thread to be game canon), please give the mods a heads-up if/when you are accepted into the game. Although this will not count as an 'official' death and will not consume a character's "freebie" revival, there may still be consequences for your character's death.

CONTENTS WORMING

(cw: worms. many worms. not parasitic. just worms.)

It's easy to take a wrong step in the dark. Of course, tripping and falling isn't the worst thing that can happen.

This isn't the worst thing that could happen, either. That doesn't make it any better in the moment - the split-second when the ground erupts and a writhing mass of something slimy doesn't so much crawl out as jump out - but maybe it will make it better later.

You know how worms come writhing up out of the ground during a rainstorm, when the soil is absolutely saturated?

Well, that's true of the soil on the ship as well, except the worms here aren't just common earthworms anymore. They've learned to climb, the slime that they use to wriggle through the soil modified such that they can cause it to turn sticky and squelch their way up walls, ceilings - and anyone they happen to come across. If you step in the wrong place, an entire cluster of them will respond, by clinging to your clothes and body, squirming upwards in a desperate bid to escape the wet soil and the continuous rivulets of water caused by the storm.

Or perhaps you sat down to rest somewhere and felt them creeping - or didn't, until there was suddenly something wet and cold on your bare skin. Or maybe you encountered the worms not through their climbing, but afterwards, when they drop off the ceiling and fall down on your head as the enzyme that renders their slime sticky wears out. However it happens... worms.

Fortunately, they're harmless - aside from being a bit larger than the earthworms a character is likely to be familiar with, and their strange ability to become sticky, these are largely indistinguishable from normal earthworms. Unfortunately, it's hard to tell that in the dark and the wet - this is their native environment, not yours, and anyone would panic at the sensation of worms trying to crawl up them or into dry places in their clothes.

There is an easy solution to this: Because the worms are fleeing the rain in the soil, they won't climb up anything that's just as wet as the dirt they left behind. All a character has to do to become worm-free is get thoroughly soaked, such as by stepping out into the reduced-but-still-pouring rain on a balcony or deck protected by the ship's bubbles. Unfortunately.... Well, then they're wet. And there doesn't seem to be anywhere to dry off any time soon...

FAQ

For information on the general shape and state of the ship, please see the setting page. Please note that mods will not be running investigations during the test drive period.

Q: Do our characters still have their powers/items?

Generally speaking, yes. Characters have their powers intact (with certain exceptions, largely for potential-gamebreak reasons) and whatever items they were carrying at their canonpoints. Please see the FAQ for more details.

Q: My character is dead and/or dying at their canonpoint!

Well... Now they aren't. Specifically, dead characters come back as their most recent 'healthy' state of being (unless they're a type of character that is playable while dead, such as a vampire or a Bleach shinigami, in which case they continue as normal for them); they also arrive already soaked through by the rain, regardless of the location they wake up. Characters who are mortally injured find that their wounds have healed; in place of whatever blood was soaking through their clothes/dripping from their bodies/in their mouth from a Cough of Death, they instead find pure water.

Q: Can my character(s) explore the ship?

Your characters are welcome to explore as much as they're willing and capable of doing in the wet and the rain! However, getting between floors is a challenge in the current weather - with the power off, the elevators do not work, and the stairs are consistently flooded by a cascade of rainwater. However, mods will not be running any official, guided explorations until after game opening.

Q: Is there anywhere dry to rest?

Nowhere is completely dry, but the aft portion of the ship is significantly drier than the middle and fore. The reason for this is that there is a series of partial decks (the residential decks) over roughly the last third of the ship. The rain is fully blocked by the roof overhead, in theory, but in practice the wind and the flooding leave this space only sort of dry. It's possible to find your way here on your own and find some place to sleep that doesn't blow mold spores into your face when you sit down, but it's also darker here, since the lightning's light is also blocked out by the roof.

Q: BATHROOMS?

Unfortunately, the lack of water in the pipes means that the toilets (which can be found relatively intact in most suites, though many are full of standing water) are also not running. Characters get to deal with this issue as they see fit, whether that's using the dilapidated toilets or using a more fertilizer-like strategy.

Q: Is there anything from the game's main info pages that doesn't apply to this Test Drive?

Given that the power is currently off, the Ship (as in the entity) cannot be interacted with on the Test Drive (and characters have no reason to think it's there). Anything else that would require power, such as the elevators or water from the faucets, also does not work.

Q: How long does the storm last?

ICly, it begins to lighten up on the evening of the second day after the first characters wake up, though it is still raining steadily with occasional thunder throughout that night. (Characters will continue to trickle in throughout the duration of the storm, though most arrive before the end of the first day.) The characters will be able to see the sun starting on the third morning - which is also planned to be the game's formal opening, so we won't say more until then!

Q: Do our characters receive anything upon arrival?

Not a thing! Nor do they encounter any kind of informational NPC or anything that gives them a solid idea what's going on. The only exception to this is that all characters experience the dripping-blood related vision/dream/impression detailed in the first prompt of the Test Drive. Additionally, characters who have a unique tie to their world (such as Aerith's connection to the Lifestream in FFVII) will be aware that they're not in their own world anymore.

Q: What are our characters eating?

Since the power hasn't come on yet... Whatever they're adventurous and/or knowledgeable enough to find that doesn't kill them! This can include edible plants and limited amounts of things brought from home (please don't have your character bring 99 casseroles even if your game's inventory system allows it), but mods are not tracking this specifically. Most characters will be expected to be hungry and unhappy but not literally starving come game open. At least there's plenty of water.

Q: I have some specific question I need to ask about my specific character on the test drive!

Please post your question in response to the header comment QUESTIONS below!

Threaded | Flat

Ask 'em here.

Arrival

Blood? His? Good, then no one else suffered. Casper wakes up in an unfamiliar room, suddenly panicked by his surroundings. He hasn't been on a ship in a while, and certainly not since - well. In a while, at least. He stands and heads out into the hallway, trying to figure out what to do. It's a long hallway, almost like... a cruise ship? He's never been on a cruise ship. His dad definitely would never have paid for a cruise.

... So how is he here? He starts exploring in the dark, his raven beside him - and his eyes peering in the dark. He can at least see in the dark.

It's just a matter of what other things he can see.

Seeing is Believing

Over here! This way! He hears a voice and runs that way, only to find... nothing. Not even a ghost. He turns around and - no. No one. He frowns and continues his search, following the noises of the dead. That's got to be what they are, right? He's familiar with how a ghost sounds, after all. It's just a frustrating mess, because there's multiple voices...

It doesn't bother him that he's alone. It bothers him that he can't find the source of these voices.

Contents Worming

The worms don't bother him. The thing that bothers him is the sticky feeling - so he heads out into the rain. Worms don't like rain, right? And while he's not waterproof, the cold doesn't bother him in the slightest. Not so for his raven, who is bitterly complaining about it, loudly, to anyone who can hear and even people who can't.

If you can understand birds, it's a lot of swearing. Even if you can't, there's still a definite angry sound from the puffed-up raven.

1. not my tears, not this time (Arrival/General purposes prompt)

[This is not a rain forged in sorrow. Nor is it a rain that will behave.

Neuvillette, after all, is no stranger to rain. Normal rain is as familiar and in some ways as comforting as a human would find it to be wrapped up in a blanket away from the rain, in some place warm and dry.

This is no normal rain. And not just because of the feeling of blood that lingers, on the side of his face and down his wrist. The feelings expressed by this storm do not belong to him.

More curious than distressed - at least for the moment - Neuvillette ducks out of the ruined suite he finds himself in. His long white hair and blue fancy robes are already damp, but he doesn't seem to actually mind, considering that he leans out into the gap running down the ship as soon as he reaches it, trying to get his bearings. This does little more productive than get him completely soaked, even as lightning flashes. It's too dark and angry out to see much of anything effectively.

If you're a casual observer in the 'hallway' along the railing he's leaning over, though, that white hair is as good as a beacon in the flash of light.

And if you missed that... There's a moment where some of the blue tracings on his robes and the blue streaks in his hair light up, and for a moment, the rain stills - or at least, the rain in a thirty-foot or so radius hangs in the air for a few seconds. More and more of it accumulates at the 'top' of the space around himself where Neuvillette has paused it... And then he sighs, audibly, and both the glow and the strange effect on the rain vanish, all the water falling at once in a watery crash.]

2. unjust is death (To Run Its Course)

[In one particular area - the rain is worse.

Hard to say how that's possible, except that it's raining indoors as well as out, the sound of the water cataclysmic in proportion. Unlike the rain outside, it as the faintest blue glow, enough to make the scene spread out just a little clearer -

Just barely within a balcony, Neuvillette stands in shock, overlooking what - to him - is a particularly small woman's body.

He thought he would have more time. He knew that it was coming, knew that the other side of the coin to his restored Authority was Furina's restored mortality. But not once did he ever consider that she would meet a violent end, so soon.

And then - there's another person on the scene. Despite his reputation (a reputation unknown in a place like this), Neuvillette does have some few issues that will press his temper. In this case, it's pressed into the sharp snap of a cane that appears from nowhere in his hand as he turns, a sound that echoes like it's been slammed into the hardwood of the courtroom floor despite all the leafy debris at his feet - ]

Who goes there?

[The blue glow has returned to the strange plumes of his hair and the trailing ends of his robes, just enough - if your eyes have adjusted to the dark - to make it clear that the shape he's standing over isn't a body at all. But given the feeling of danger that comes from the stilled water inside and the raging storm outside... Better get talking, fast.]

3. a very wet place (General purposes prompt, but like, later on)

[It continues to storm. The ship continues to be strange, and full of stranger people.

Take, for example, the fully soaked Neuvillette, who - although still on guard, for who wouldn't be, in a place like this - has now taken to wandering the halls, cane in hand, occasionally redirecting a particular flow of water as he goes. It's tiring, to use his power so frequently; in that regard, at least, it is clear that they are all very far from home. But if he thinks he catches sight of someone, there's still that first moment where the tendrils of his hair and the trailing hems of his robes light up - not so much to exercise his power, and not in warning, but just so that he can be seen in the dark, for at least a moment or two.

Only after that, when he's confirmed that the person he's approaching is both real and really alive, does he approach: ]

I am Iudex Neuvillette of Fontaine. Do you require assistance?

[It's awkward and perhaps a little too formal - but the offer is earnest, at least. And surely there are no small number of people he can help by, at least, providing a temporary reprieve from being soaked. Even if there's nowhere dry to be found in the long term.

... An unpleasantly familiar situation, really.]

Content Worming

[The water is not cold, or warm, it just is. Perhaps he was too used to the frigid temperatures of his homeland. The rain is, however, inescapable, as his boots tread and squelch water and root and various vegetation underheel. What was this place? Why was he here?

The hallways are so dark-- the pitter patter of rain, a white noise in and of itself, nearly drowns out all else.

Even the fell skies of the Abyss were filled with stars, pinpoints of light. The Harbinger lifts an arm up, to try to keep the water from getting in his eyes, as if it were the rain and not the blanket of total darkness that made it impossible to see.

He's plagued by the feeling of blood seeping down his arms, blooming over his abdomen-- Thunder crashes, sudden, striking. A moment of clarity.

Water, it was water. A lot of it.

The deeper he treads, the more soil and leafy greenery he finds, soft and soaked through. Childe can feel something moving beneath the ground, under his every step. He starts to back up, but the soil erupts with large, fat worms, clinging to his boots and climbing up.

Horror and shock clear on the man's face, he stumbles back, tripping on roots. The worms surround him, cover him. He tears them off in a panic-- the soil is wet and soaks through the back of his pants and his shirt. Absolutely fucking miserable, he hisses, scrambling to get on his feet, kicking at the writhing mass of... beasts.

They seemed to be escaping the drenched soil, but he wasn't going to wait around and find out if they were friendly or not, gathering up water into wobbly... almost blades.

It'd have to do. Childe starts swinging at the worms, the water mostly just getting him and them wet, rather than cutting and slicing. Childe wants to throw his vision over the side of the ship, at this point. He still doesn't understand why it isn't BEHAVING.]

GET OFF ME! FUCK OFF!

[All of his wrestling and struggling with them eventually leads him to standing under one of the balconies, letting the water drain over him. The worms cower and squirm quickly away, while Childe is left clinging to railing and panting, the balcony absolutely dousing him in water as he gathers his bearings.]

To Run its Course

IS ANYONE OUT THERE?

[He calls out and recieves only the scent of blood, wafting, heavy. His own? No, he was-- had been on bed rest, he'd promised Teucer--

Teucer. This wasn't the hospital he'd been brought to, he knew this logically. There was no way he'd been out long enough for the snowscapes of Snezhnaya to melt. But. The hallways... Long, almost formulaic. It may as well be the same to him, as he runs foward, heart a caged bird in his chest. His brother had just been here. Had just been next to him. What happened? Where had he gone?]

TEUCER?

[Childe tears through the hallway like something gone mad, the map of the hospital in his mind unfurling. This was not the hospital, this was not familiar. He stumbles, tripping over roots and undergrowth. Water soaks through his clothes worse than before, and he looks and feels pretty fucking shit at this point.

He looks up, to find vines overtaking... something. Soft orange hair, a small body. Childe's heart seizes in his chest, as he tears his gaze across the room. Settling on a figure nearby. Disgust and fury rise in his chest, calcifying into murderous intent. A fell flame stokes in his heart, overshadowing all reason. He doesn't question why his younger brother would be in a place like this, let alone dead. All he knows is that Teucer is dead, and he has an errant stranger to blame.

The Harbinger snarls like a feral dog, reaching for the water and letting it weakly form into a blade in his hand, cursing quietly. Its form wavers, but his voice doesn't, barking out his words across the room.]

He was just a KID! That was my BROTHER!

( 1. seeing is believing )
[ Hallucinations, huh? After his extensive experience in the Metaverse, Akechi is used to seeing things that aren't really there—or at least, things that aren't actually what they look like. Add in the distant whispers, ominous scents, and strange glimpses of light he keeps catching sight of and it's very easy for him to believe that very little of what he sees here is real.

So, yeah. While he keeps a wary eye on the illusion approaching through the gloom, he doesn't otherwise acknowledge it as he strides down the dim hallway.

Until he draws close enough for the 'hallucination' to suddenly resolve into a person. Akechi jerks to a stop, surprise flickering across his expression. ]

You're real.

[ It's not a question, though Akechi sounds somewhat amazed by the realization. ]

( 2. topdecks )
[ The universe sure has a twisted sense of humor. One cruise ship making its way through the post-apocalypse was bad enough. Akechi's really not thrilled to be a passenger aboard a second one.

But it seems as though disembarking this one will be even harder for the last. The rain is still coming down, but Akechi has made a point of stepping out onto the upper deck to investigate the bubble surrounding the ship. He can't really guess what it might be besides some sort of rubber or plastic, though he's not a fan of how it responds to having a rock thrown at it by violently launching it back at Akechi.

As for the wasteland beyond the bubble, well...

Akechi eventually abandons his search, stepping underneath the awning of a nearby staircase. There's already someone there, but he's not going to let himself keep getting drenched to just be polite. ]

What do you supposed happened out there?

( 3. to run its course )
[ He shouldn't be surprised to find a dead body here, when so many other parts of the ship are lush with rot and decay. He shouldn't even be surprised to find a familiar dead body here, since he knows for a fact being dead isn't an obstacle to being drawn to this place.

But it hardly matters whether or not he's surprised. not when the dominant emotion of the moment is fury. Someone did this, he's certain of it, and he doubts they'll be happy with one murder.

In fact, here they are, fulfilling some old cliche about returning to the scene of the crime. Akechi turns to regard whoever just stepped into the room, expression gone icy with rage. He doesn't say a word, just rises to his feet and draws his weapon. Akechi doesn't cut a terrible intimidating figure in his plaid sweater vest and reddish-brown coat—especially not when he's still damp from his earlier venture out onto the topdecks—but his gaze is focused and the sword in his hands has a viciously serrated edge. ]

CHARACTER WARNINGS: Alastor seems pleasant but he's a serial murderer and a cannibal! He's also a literal demon from hell so he's not very respectful of Christian themes.

ARRIVAL - cw: none

[Drip. Drip. Drip. The steady drip of blood is a familiar lullaby to a sinner. Comforting, almost. But -- no. Wait. It's not blood. It doesn't sound viscous enough. Too thin. Alastor stirs and grumbles. Why is he so cold? And... sopping wet? He sits up. This is not his comfy hotel suite! Nor is it his studio. Or... anywhere else he recognizes. The foliage is a bit too tropical to be the bayou... And not only that, but his cherry-red suit is soaked through. He's pretty sure he'd remember falling asleep in the rain.

Still, lying on a bed of ferns, the demon smiles -- though it doesn't reach his eyes]

Well then! Isn't this a fine pickle.

[Alastor isn't the kind of person to let something like being kidnapped into a weird jungle boat bother him! Hell had plenty of places just as odd as this. Time to explore! Oh, but first... he couldn't be caught looking so shabby.

He summons his microphone staff and draws a circle around his feet. A pillar of green fire rises around him for a good thirty seconds, scorching the plants at his feet. When it clears, his clothes are dry and almost... pressed? Wow.]

SEEING IS BELIEVING - cw: visual and auditory hallucinations

[If this is Hell, it's one of the most sparsely inhabited places he's ever seen. Usually you can't take a step without tripping over a stoned sinner or a drunk demon. Here there's... no one. The sounds of the maelstrom are somewhat distant, and Alastor has yet to figure out he's on a ship -- though he is suspicious that this is not a normal forest!

The eye on his microphone staff shines brightly, like a flashlight, and he holds a fancy vintage umbrella to protect him from the rain. He hums tunelessly to himself, his voice overlaid with radio static and a bright smile on his face]

What a perfectly unpleasant day~!

[He's alone. But he isn't. This place buzzes with energy -- terrible stories of suffering etched into the fabric of reality here. What horrible things had happened here? Alastor's interest is certainly piqued! Between the flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder, he catches sentences here and there. Panic. Fear. Self sacrifice. Heroism. Oh, the humanity!

But then he hears something that doesn't quite sound like the echoes, something that sounds a bit more... live. He turns his staff-nee-flashlight around toward the noise]

Heeeellllooooooo~? Is there someone out there?

------

[With or without companions, the radio demon finds his way to the upper deck. It still looks more like an alien forest than anything but something is clear, now!]

A-ha! It IS a cruise liner! Fascinating.

WORMS - cw: alastor being a gross asshole who eats worms

[Continuing his leisurely stroll through the ship and humming a happy tune, Alastor hears something land with a wet "splorch" on his umbrella. Then another. Then another!]

Hmmm?

[Finding refuge under a tree, Alastor looks at the top of the umbrella and finds... worms!! Oh!]

Hello! [Alastor grabs one of the worms delicately in his clawed gloves and examines it a bit, adjusting his monocle.

Then he puts it in his mouth.]

WILDCARD - Any other ideas? I'm all ears!

[Seeing is Believing]
Zed isn't at all hampered by the darkness. He's a bit irritated, but not slowed down. "Damn, Gritta," he mutters half to himself, looking around like the world's most annoyed tourist, "what have you been eating?" And there's a dramatic sort of sigh. "I thought you shined more than that. Sad."

[Worms]
"Hey, you little jerks!" Zed is now hobbling through the area with his left leg completely in cased in worms. "Get off!" The worms do not listen, for they are worms, and they do not care for the whims of an emperor. "Gritta, I can't believe you had worms!" So easy to have your impressions of delicate monster ladies absolutely shattered these days, sadly. Bad enough she ate him, but now he's got to deal with giant instestinal parasites? Genuinely not how he was expecting that to go when she betrayed him at the altar like that. Madness, just absolute madness.

Edited (html, my nemesis) 2024-01-25 01:41 (UTC)

i. Arrival + Seeing is Believing

[ Drip. Drip. Drip. Something is dripping. Blood, he thinks hazily, but whose? His, maybe. The artificial liquid that runs within him, though not composed of cells and plasma, is part of what keeps him running, so it may as well be the same, for all the difference in composition. Perhaps he is paying his penance—finally, someone has decided to avenge their clan.

Then thunder cracks, and he opens his eyes to a leaky, wooden ceiling. The room is dark and humid, and everything, even his clothes, are damp. He sits up cautiously, extending his senses out as best he can to survey the area. The room sways from side to side as a storm rages somewhere above him. A ship, he eventually deduces as he stands up, and looks down as his feet brush puddles of water.

He shouldn't be here. How did he get here? It should be nigh impossible for anyone to infiltrate the Sanctuary of Surasthana and kidnap him—not to mention anyone who would have had that intention has long forgotten him. He is unknown to all but two (three, really, but he's not counting that damn fairy). But maybe that had been an opening, rather than a defense.

The scent of blood and smoke flashes by as he steps into the halls of the ship. It is dark, and so very, very lonely. He hears murmurs, and sees shadows—but no, there's no one here in this abandoned ship. The atmosphere must be getting to him. A light flickers and instantly, he turns to it. It's gone again. The storm rumbles on outside, thunder clearing the murmured voices and smoke and blood. It is supposed to be reassuring. He just finds it irritating. Thunderstorms have never signified anything good in his life, just as it is present in this situation.

He explores the ship at a pace far more leisurely than one who finds themselves alone in an abandoned, rotting ship ought to be. Leaking and dilapidated this place may be, but he is alone and that is how he prefers it. The whispers and phantom scents are just tricks of the mind, he's determined. Later on, as he realizes the ship is much bigger than he thought, he decides it'd be faster to fly around the ship and does so, jetting through the narrow halls as he looks for any hint or clue that would reveal more about his current location.

It's in this manner that he almost crashes into you, turning around a corner without a second glance at the path ahead of him. It's only by his sharp reflexes that he dodges with an airborne flip and lands roughly on the puddled floor, causing water to splash everywhere. He looks up—and it's then you notice that his eyes, along with several markings along his body, are glowing. ]

Huh. So there are people on this ship.

[ He stands up slowly, yet the way comports himself seems threatening. Perhaps it's the sharp curl of his lips, or the anger simmering in his eyes, that reveal the threat this man is. ]

Now tell me where I am and who it is I need to 'speak' with to get out of here.

ii. To Run Its Course (Guaranteed PVP)

[ He doesn't expect it, is the thing. To see anyone on this ship, much less someone familiar. But in the darkness, he catches a splash of gold in the corner of his eye—

The Traveler. Of course they'd be here, as an outsider who traveled the stars—but wait. Something's wrong.

They're on the floor, motionless. Dead.

This can't be.

How could they be—he isn't ready for this. It's not like he cared that much for them, but he'd expected to see them around Teyvat for a few more years yet—no, no, no, this is very wrong, the Traveler is more than powerful enough to shrug off any threat—they can't just be dead!

It is then that you happen to stumble upon him, looking shocked—anguished, even. But it's only for a second that you get to behold that expression, because the next moment, a blade of wind energy is rushing at you. Think fast! ]

iii. Contents Worming

[ There are worms everywhere. What fresh hell has he stepped into. And they aren't the kind one sees peeping out of the earth after a monsoon in Sumeru, followed by the fresh scent of ozone and petrichor. No, these ones are sticky, there are far too many of them to be comfortable with, and they keep trying to climb on him.

Even flying doesn't save him from the worms, as they just drop from above, and honestly, he doesn't know if that's more horrifying than the fact that the floor is wriggling. Dear Lesser Lord Kusanali, if he's dreaming right now, please wake him up. He does not want to be here.

Eventually, he figures out that water is the solution, so he searches for it—finding a path all the way to the top deck, where he is rained on, and the worms fall away. Thank the Archons. He's soaked now, but luckily, such a sensation doesn't bother him. He stands up there, eyes closed, enjoying the rocking of the ship, and the not-so-gentle pelting of the rain. Though he may still be in an enclosed area, and thus, not truly free, this is much better than the cramped, almost claustrophobic halls of the decks below.

He holds a wide-brimmed hat in his hand, which is at his side. It is perfect as protection against this kind of weather, but he doesn't seem inclined to use it at the moment. ]

iv. Wildcard
[ I'm down for anything! Just smack me with whatever you want! ]

WHERE'S THE FIRE?! | (SEEING IS BELIEVING)

Mario's been in enough haunted mansions to not really be off-put by hearing voices, but they are annoying. He's been moving as fast as he can while sludging through water to find whoever is speaking, a source, anything. And this time--

'There's someone still alive over here!'

Still alive? Is that why he can't find anyone? Mario takes off double-time, jumping from wall to wall to move faster than trudging through the water will allow, ignoring the feeling of plant slime under his boots and fingers. And... he's in luck! He made it to the source before they vanish on him...

A ghost? It doesn't matter.

"Where are they?" he asks, expectantly, of the person before him. "Who needs help?"

-

RUN THE CORPSE

Mario knows he is alone, but that doesn't mean he isn't keeping an eye and ear out for anyone he knows. This wouldn't be the first time he's woken up somewhere he doesn't recognize, no, but it also wouldn't be the first time his friends ended up somewhere with him. Just, you know, maybe elsewhere...?

The taste of blood is still stuck on his tongue, and he's thinking about how alone and scared his brother must be if he were here - Luigi is afraid of everything, after all, while Mario isn't afraid of enough - when the lightning flashes, illuminating a corpse under the tree.

Mario stops cold.

"Luigi?" he calls, softly. He takes a step closer. "Luigi...?"

Sleeping, he must be. Or KO'd, low-HP, something, something. Mario rushes forward, one hand digging into his pocket for a 1UP while the other reaches for his brother.

"Hang on, Luigi, I've--"

His hand touches leaves and dirt, and in a second flash of lightning, Mario sees what he mistook as a body for what it really is. The fact that it's still kind of Luigi-shaped doesn't stop being unsettling though.

If you find Mario like this, you'll find him scrambling backwards under the roar of thunder, still on the ground, looking like he's about to be sick.

-

GET DOWN FROM THERE | (TOPDECK)

If you wander your way topdeck, you're bound to find Mario doing something unsafe. That is: he is completely on the other side of the deck's railing, hanging off the edge of the ship. His arm hooked around the rail might be all that's keeping him from falling to his doom below.

There's no water, he's noticed. So this is a cruise ship, but one that's not at sea, rather one that's at... desert?

One foot against the side of the ship for balance, he holds his free hand up above his eyes to shield them, clearly examining the ship itself. He wants to find a name, a branding, something... The rain and clouds make visibility poor, but he has something to focus on now, he just needs to wait for lightning to illuminate it again - There!

"Oh, wow! This ship has LEGS!"

----

OOC: Feel free to fourthwall! Or if your character was in Smash - I know that's a small pool - and you want to recognize him from that, I'm game! Otherwise: I will match format, etc, have fun with the silly plumber.

Edited 2024-01-25 10:11 (UTC)

1. Arrival

[Romeo's never been on a ship before. But he's seen them, anchored offshore. Disappearing into the fog on the horizon as they set out to catch the morning's fish.

He's tired. Groggy. Lulled by the constant drip, drip of water. He isn't used to having a human body again — or what feels human, at any rate. It isn't possible, and yet his ears ring all the same.

He's never been fond of the dark. The city where he's lived all his life was just starting to welcome the marvel of electricity. Oil lamps were to soon become a thing of the past — until everyone started dying, and now there's been little need for electricity or lamps, really.

There's little Romeo wouldn't give for an oil lamp now, though. Light. Warmth. Something to touch other than the walls of the dark abyss laid out in front of him.]

I might not know much about ships — or anything, really — but taking on this much water can't be good, can it?

[Romeo murmurs this to himself... or is someone else here with him on the ship?]

2. Seeing is Believing

[Wherever Romeo has found himself, it at least smells like home. Blood. Metal. Rot.

He has been given a second chance at life — or a third, it seems — so when he hears the voices, he pauses. He closes his eyes, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from. What they're saying.

Protect the humans, drawls the voice. This had been Romeo's purpose, once. Waking up here felt like a failure, almost — were there any humans left to protect? Any people left to save?

Yes, the voice says, and although Romeo still can't quite pinpoint the direction it's coming from, he's walking faster now. Stumbling deeper into the dark corridor.

If there's someone — anyone — left alive, Romeo will save them. He has to.]

3. Contents Worming

[There's a wet squelch beneath Romeo's feet. Mud, he thinks at first. Dirt and leaves, as weird as it seems to have that all over the ship. But no, it's something alive. Wriggling, squirming against his palm as he kneels down to investigate. He still can't quite see in the dark, but the sensation makes him shiver.

Romeo hasn't felt touch like this in what feels like a lifetime. He's had a metal body for so long that he'd almost forgotten how it felt to have something slide against his skin. Even if it's as strange as whatever this is — slimy, sticky. Crawling over his boots now as if he has something to provide them.

He steps back into the rain, feeling the worms retreat. It is perhaps foolish, seeing as he doesn't recall bringing an extra set of clothes with him to wherever this is, but he wants to feel the rain. It's cold. It makes him shiver, dripping down his cheeks.

He must look absurd, standing out here on the deck like a drenched rat.]

4. Wildcard

(Free for all! Go wild. I enjoy surprises.)

[Blanket warnings for alien/nonhuman nonsense and a penchant for swearing/oaths.]

i. Arrival

[ The simple act of waking leaves him unsteady and unfocused, hazy. Enough so it takes him a moment to hear the monotonous dripping. Open wounds are nothing new, and the fact he doesn't feel the injury much the same. Usually it's...

Guilt twists him inside, makes his everything crawl uncomfortably under the wet and sticking fabric, like it wants to shrink away, but—

Realization hits like a blow. He woke up. John jolts, yellow robes flaring out around him, gathering, reaching, seeking purchase on anything they can grasp like some kind of twisted-wrong creature from deep in the abyss.

Maybe it's fitting, then, that he finds himself soaked, those same robes clinging to his shoulders. The thunder rattles him again, senses one by one returning in something resembling clarity but it stands in stark relief to expectation. If he isn't... then he shouldn't have all of these senses. He shouldn't—none of this is right, none of this makes sense. He can't sleep, he doesn't have a body. He should be...! ]

Arthur? [ There's an edge to his voice, sharp and jagged. An angry, confused panic. ] Arthur!

[ He tears forward in an awkward rush of fabric and limbs, shoulder meeting the door, body coiling and curling and scrabbling to get the damn thing open, and he tumbles out of it into a disoriented pile. A desperate bark is lost in the roar of thunder, and John freezes in the wake of a sudden chill. He is terror, he is horror—or he was, was part of that wretched, unknowable, Unspeakable monstrosity. But he's little more than a rain-wet thing that's almost forgotten how to move under his own power. And it is dark here; among the many human fears he's discovered in the past few months since being released from that damned book, he's found the dark to be... ]

Fucking focus. There are more important things.

[ The foundations seem unsteady, though it's easy enough to balance (sort of) once he remembers how. Helps that he can use the walls as easily as the floor. But he should probably attempt moving like something passably human just in case, right? So you might find him bracing against the wall, swearing under his breath. He might just be trying to get his legs under him (does he even have any? hard to tell with the robes) or trying to get his head on straight. There is something about looking at him too long that feels wrong, though, to anyone who might run into him. Something other. It's an unsettling indeterminateness at first that quiets to an itch after a moment. ]

ii. Seeing is believing

[ He's chasing ghosts. Chasing lights. Chasing voices calling for aid, and like hell is he abandoning anyone. Not after everything they've b—he's... been through. He still can't find Arthur, but that's... He'll find him.

Everything is a dead end.

John, bracing himself against the wall with one wrapped hand, growls—and startles himself out of it. The feeling of it, the physical sensations are still bizarre. He'd forgotten what it feels like. His throat hurts from shouting; the knife of his hand hurts from the number of times he's struck the wall. He's tired. In any other circumstances, he'd be... elated? But right now, he's just uncomfortable and, put mildly, angry. ~~Cranky less-than-normal-levels-of-eldritch baby.~~ ]

If this is Kayne's fault...

[ It sure fucking feels like it could be. Or some other god's, if not his. He'd know if it was Hastur though, wouldn't he? So not him, no matter how much this feels like something he'd have done once. Pushing off, John turns, stopping at the sound of something that rings clearly through the rain and thunder. A voice. A distinct voice. He's too worked up to think past recognition, but does that mean...? ]

Hey!

[ Maybe this won't be a dead end, if he can just find the source...! He'll fucking take it, if so. Apologies for the strange too-tall man scrambling in your direction. His hood's a little skewed, and a featureless, ceramic-looking mask is the only thing visible beneath it, but something about the narrow slits where eyes would be seems entirely too intense. ]

iii. To run its course [cw: mentions of body horror]

[ A distorted, roaring howl—a sound no throat, human or beast, could hope to make—is all he can manage. That and the collapse of so many layers of yellow-gold fabric, gathering the corpse under the shield of his own body as the tattered edges curl in tightly. But he can't bring himself to touch the body, his hands held tightly to his chest, maintaining just a fraction of space. Touching him would make it real. Had he failed? Is that why he's here? The last time they'd been torn apart, Hastur had called him and he'd surrendered, only for Arthur to—

Did it... happen again? No. No, he doesn't think it did, there was nothing to fight that would have needed it. And something about this feels wrong. Hadn't he just been..? No, maybe not. He has no memory of how long he'd been part of Hastur again, why would he think he'd remember how long it'd been since he'd last been echoing in Arthur's mind? Does it fucking matter? He'd been calling for Arthur since he woke up here and he's... found him. The forest of the Dreamlands has clearly gotten to work, sprouting from their—Arthur's left pinky and making use of the rest of the empty flesh. He barely registers the other plant-life.

Footsteps make him freeze just before he reaches with one unsteady hand for the man—his partner, his friend's face. For all he'd barked Arthur down from his furies, rage-induced violence and righteousness and vengeance and murderous intent, John isn't feeling so composed about his own. Maybe fortunate, then, that he's still trying to remember how to move in a body like this. Fanning out as he whips around, a creature flaring out in threat and warning, a growl builds in his chest and culminates in a single word. ]

You.

iv. Contents worming

[ John... hates the dark. For a number of reasons, but most importantly is how blind he feels. He can't tell where he's going, can't tell what's waiting in that dark. This place may not be the Dreamlands or the Dark World, but it's... wrong.

It becomes both wrong and gross when the first worm ends up trying to make its way up the ends the tendril-like tatters of his robes. It... Part of his brain shifts into gear for guidance, but Arthur isn't here for him to describe the cause of that sensation to. The yellow, wrong-shadowed tendril curls, coils, and attempts to fling the worm off of it. He doesn't know what it is, only that he doesn't like the way it feels.

He's not worried (yet) about what it actually is, though.

He is unhappy that he's starting to find them more and more.

He fastens himself to the wall awkwardly, a few tendrils accompanied by thick shadows acting as supports to keep him there. Screw trying to pass as anything other than what he is: the situation demands otherwise. ]

What the... fuck is this?

[ He rolls forward, robes more like the tentacles of an octopus as he moves, and slowly picks up speed—not that it really seems to help! There's more on the walls, and John complains in grunts and myriad other noises as he tries to get away from the worms. ~~Cat got on the double-sided tape, much?~~ He twists around a few times, just generally doing his best to evade when he doesn't... really... know how he can.

Help. ]

[Arrival]

[ He wakes but does not stir, not at first. This is no less than he expected: fire, pain, and then at last silence and darkness. There is nothing to do until Mandos or one of his folk come to tell him the details of his fate.

[But he hurts. His hand - his left - and the place where he's never quite forgotten his right once was -]

This is wrong.

[ Maedhros thought he was just feeling echoes of his last agonizing grasp, but he has reason to know: these are the pains of the hroa, not the fea. He lifts his right arm, and the hand he still dreams himself with is not there. He lifts his left.]

How - how?!

[ In the blistered grasp of his left hand gleams a jewel, white and perfectly faceted, that gleams with its own inner light. And yet, the gleam is too dim, just like the pain. Has his touch damaged it in some manner? No, if the presence of Morgoth tainted them not, Maedhros despite all could do a Silmaril no harm. Convulsively his hand opens and the Jewel clatters to the floor, where it casts sparkling light, barely enough to bring color to the crimson of his hair.]

Not death nor life nor darkness - what is this place?!

[Seeing is Believing]

[ A tall figure moves through the dark hall. Somewhere on his person, something casts just enough light to glint off the blade of the long sword in his hand, though it is lowered - caution, not aggression. He moves in brief bursts of motion, the urge to chase the calls of found survivors warring with the habit of meticulousness.

[ He is singing, fairly softly, if you can hear his voice true. The song is not in a familiar language, unless the listener recognizes the Quenya of old Valinor. The tone is sweeter and lighter than seems appropriate for this place.]

Arrival:

Waking, collapsed on the ground, soaked through with blood... Mint can't find any of that too unusual. Fighting the way she does, with the issues she has makes this an oddly common turn of events.

What does jar her, is her memory. She can't remember what she was doing. She can't think, where was she just before this?

Her memory churns, breaking apart like sand as she tries to track the edges of the blank spot. She can't remember, she can't remember...

Thunder crashes, cold seeping in.

Mint takes a mental step back, and looks around instead of grasping at straws. Past off limits. That's... fine. Where is she now?

The floor rocks beneath her. A ship in a storm. That's... something. Summoning a bit of fire to her off hand, Mint pries herself off the damp ground.

Only one way to find out more.

Seeing is Believing:

It's dark, wherever she is. Light occasionally flashes through the cracks in the ceiling, not that it enlightens her much.

Once, just once, she tried to reach for an aetheryte and met... nothing. Like she was on the surface of the Dragonstar reaching for home, whatever beacons she had towards home were so distant as to not exist.

If they did at all.

It's dark, and she is far, far away from anyone she knows. From anyone, at all.

Mint scans the dark tensely, and kept picking a slow path forward. It's certainly not quiet, at least. She can't tell in the least what direction is actually safe, between everything she hears. The clatter of pipes battered by rain blends easily into the clash of weapons.

(Part of her keeps thinking she hears a bell in the mix... but no. Surely not.)

Nearby, there is a loud thump, closer than any of the previous banging. Whatever is happening, its getting close. From around the corner, there's a voice, "Did anything we do even matter in the end...?"

"Of course it matters," Mint mutters, and then raced ahead to find the voice.

To Run Its Course:

Mint is always missing someone at her side. This, more than anything, is something baked into her essence. Even if she's forgotten everything else, even when trying to save the world, even now, when she doesn't even know how she's gotten here, she is looking for them.

Seeing them in the shadows is not an unusual state of being for her.

But when Mint looks into this particular shadow, her control over flames winks out and all she can see is dark hair cascading over floorboards.

Its S████. She would know her anywhere.

In the dark hallway, the face is barely visible, but its not as though Mint would recognize it anyway. She knows her, and that's enough in this moment.

Enough to run to over, and start to weep. Something is pooling beneath the body, dark and slick, like S████ has been here here a while.

Mint runs a hand through the hair, feeling it snag on leaves and vines. Its tangled.

A branch snaps behind her, and Mint flings herself her feet.

All she can see are shadows. The Darknesses. Of course. Of course they waited for a moment of weakness. But... she's killed gods. Mint's not a child anymore.

She narrows her eyes, and pulls a chakram from her waist. No point in speaking after all.

Mint won't go down without a fight.

i. arrival
Blood is dripping from the ceiling. The Lady is going to be so angry that someone spoiled her party, and Lucia Corina was supposed to help keep everyone calm, and it's not like singing defuses feuds but that won't stop the Lady blaming her pet--
Lightning flashes. Wait. She escaped. She's not in the elf hall anymore. And it isn't blood, it's water. There are enough plants around for the elf hall, but they would never be this disordered and... frankly, unpleasant. And there's mold on the walls. There really would be blood somewhere if there was mold on the walls at the hall. But these walls are... strange. They're smooth, under the mold, not like wood or even the most finely-set stone, and there would be more damage to the surface if it was plaster. She pokes it experimentally, and once che gets through the layer of algae, the surface is hard and cold and uncannily smooth--she can't imagine the mason that could smooth stone so perfectly.
And, she realizes, the entire place is rocking, like--a ship? It can't be stone, if it's a ship.
There's an outside, anyway, because the flash of lightning came through a crack in the roof. She doesn't think she could fit through it, but if there's an up, there's probably a way to get there. She rinses her fingers off in a fall of water from the ceiling as best she can and sets off to hunt for a staircase.

ii. seeing is believing
Lucia Corina can hear other people on the ship, but she can't find them. "Over here!" someone shounds in one direction, and then, from the other, "Hurry, I think we can still get them out!" Behind her, someone groans, "There's no point. It's all lost." But when she spins around, all she sees is a moment's shadow. She's almost reminded of the tower, with Gulda, but those ghosts were consistently there, even when they didn't seem to see her. And the scenery itself had been inconsistent there--the boat doesn't change, there are no sudden reversions to a former state of glory, at least not yet. There's just the dark, and things in the distance that she can't catch up to.
"Is there anyone out there alive?" she asks plaintively. It's not that she minds the dead, but when they can't see her, they make poor conversational partners, and she's not learning much about where she is. If someone brought her here, like when Gulda made the false hall, she would expect to be drawn somewhere, or offered something--the history of this boat thing may be interesting, but it is offering her no clues she can understand.

iii. contents worming
The worms haven't bothered Lucia Corina. In fact, she hasn't noticed them at all. There is no warm dry place there for them to seek, and because she hasn't noticed them, she's not quite solid for them to catch onto, anyway. This may change if someone points them out.

Edited 2024-01-27 15:06 (UTC)

arrival:

Drip, drip, drip. A sound without cease, just loud enough that it refuses to fade into the background. Centuries of dreading the flood--of fearing the element she claims to stand as steward to--have Furina jolting to awareness, heart racing.

(Maybe, were she anyone else...she would have felt the warmth, and smelt the copper, and thought blood before any other conclusion...but she is Furina de Fontaine, forged by five hundred years on Teyvat's greatest stage, and there is little else that can shake her like the threat of water where it shouldn't be can.

The feeling that it's her fault, though? That, she lets in without a fight. Of course it is. It always is, is it not?)

Taking in her completely unfamiliar surrounds, feeling frightened and overwhelmed in a way she hasn't since her Mirror-Self smiled a final farewell and left her standing dreadfully alone in front of said mirror, Furina stands in silence.

There is no script here to follow--no audience to fool.

Furina de Fontaine has no idea where she is--no idea what she is meant to do.

And so, she...simply doesn't.

seeing is believing:

The Great Flood has come, and the Hydro Archon remains--weeping alone. Furina knows this, with a certainty that sits as firm as her curse. Why else would she be here? Why else would she be seeing this?

A ruined ship, taken over by water. A storm raging outside...and all around her, the jeers of ghosts. The vile, deserved hatred that is all that remains of Fontaine.

Stumbling until her back finds a wall, Furina slides to the ground and hugs her knees to her chest, paying no mind to the damp or decay as she sobs. Alone, as she was always destined to be, she lets the accusations flung her way by the spirits of the people she failed reach their mark and sink home.

She deserves this. She deserves this.

And maybe, once they're done...once they're all finally satisfied that she has been tormented for her failings long enough...

Maybe she'll finally get to rest.

Arrival
[It’s the dripping that wakes her. Going to bed cold has been her norm for moons now, most of the volunteers still packing themselves close together to conserve body heat in their sleep. She and her brother, with their smaller bodies, had needed this badly. The sounds of many people breathing and shuffling in their sleep have grown to become a constant companion.

So it’s the sound of dripping liquid, and the absence of warmth beside her, that startles her awake. She tries to blink away the sleep and sees a rivulet of - oh gods, is that blood? Where is she? running down the wall near her head. She must have been knocked out in a fight for there to be this much —

Then a loud, violent crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, and she sees that the flow is only water. But she doesn’t quite trust it until she touches the wall and her fingers come away undiscolored.

She sits up. Wherever she is, it’s a long way from Garlemald. The steel walls are similar enough, but the cold is a damp one, not the dry, frozen, bitter air she’s beginning to grow accustomed to. The air is scented with mildew and the decay of plants. She can feel a rocking motion that suggests waves. A ship, then.

She struggles to her feet, relieved to still be fully clothed and armed. Her rapier provides a faint light, but beyond that all she can see is what is illuminated by the periodic flashes of lightning. Making her way across the slippery floor is slow going, periodically bracing herself against the walls when the ship rocks especially violently in the storm. Finally, she approaches a more open area, an atrium of sorts with a better view of the interior.

But before she can get her bearings, she’s distracted by a figure illuminated by another flash. A person? Or is her mind breaking under the stress? She cups her hands around her mouth and calls out.]

Who’s there?

Seeing is Believing
[The scent of decay dogs her steps. She tries to convince herself that it’s just the plant matter covering nearly every ilm of the walls and floor, that the smell of damp earth and rot is a sign only of neglect and nothing worse.

But every so often, her mouth and nose are assaulted by the deep metallic tang of old blood and she has to stop and brace herself against a wall until the smell recedes. And then the sounds begin.

It starts out faintly, barely audible over the rain, but it doesn’t stay quiet for long. She spins around, sword at the ready, when the first scream echoes through the empty hallways. It’s long and drawn-out and anguished, the sound ripped from a throat long since raw from screaming. The kind of scream she’s all too familiar with. She breaks into a jog, then a run, as another voice joins the first. Then another, and another.]

“Help! Someone help!”
“Please! She doesn’t have much time!”
“Where are you?!”

[flickering lights up ahead and what sounds like a child’s voice and she’s sprinting, heedless of the doorways on either side and the fact that she’s hopelessly lost. She can’t let more people die on her watch. She can’t. Not again-

A gnarled root or loose cable catches her foot and sends her sprawling, pain lancing up her arms as she catches herself poorly. She can still hear the voices, but suddenly she’s too weak to stand. She’s failed, again.]

Arrival

Shang Qinghua awakens to the sound of dripping blood.

This is, unfortunately, not as unknown as he might like it to be, since he transmigrated into his own novel. Being a spy for a demon lord comes with certain hazards, and one of those hazards is that demons are extremely violent! Very prone to tearing their enemies apart! There's more than one reason he has so devotedly clung to the thighs of his king, and how shapely they are was at least initially a very minor consideration! Usually he's not recovering from unconsciousness around dripping blood, but it's not impossible that someone would attack Cang Qiong's most pathetic Peak Lord.

His train of thought is interrupted by a crack of thunder outside, and the moment of lightning before it gives just enough light to show that what's dripping is water, and that he's in an unfamiliar room with unexpectedly non-Asian-looking plants in it. This is definitely not the Northern Desert, or An Ding Peak.

So... he's probably been kidnapped. Western demons, maybe, or rogue Southern ones? His protagonist son hasn't completely crushed the demon realm beneath his feet yet--and might not, as busy has he seems to be with doting on Cucumber-bro's every whim--but most demons aren't willing to face the annoyance of Luo Binghe to interfere with Cang Qiong, or the more personal annoyance of Mobei-Jun for interfering with his spy. (Not that he's much of a spy, anymore, now that most of the sect knows, but his king still seems to find him useful enough to keep around?)

Well, the first step is to see if his captors are stupid enough to leave his talismans and seals intact, since they were apparently stupid enough not to tie him up with Immortal Binding Cables. He fishes out the seal he uses to call Mobei-Jun when he has important news or an emergency, and feeds qi into it.

...it's like pouring water into a pot with a hole in the bottom. It's not being blocked, but it's like there's an insurmountable distance between him and his king. Not good! He does not like that! This seal should work from every end of the Human and Demon realms, and probably even in the Endless Abyss!

He sighs and resorts to something he'd rather not do. "System?" he asks internally, hoping it'll deign to listen to him. "Am I still in Proud Immortal Demon Way?"

There's an uncomfortably long pause, and he almost thinks it's not going to answer, and then--

[Location unknown. Contact with plot lost. System going on standby. Good luck.]

Wait, wait, tell him more than that-- but it's no use, it's gone. Shang Qinghua swears and kicks the wall, wincing when he discovers that it's metal. So he's transmigrated again? But... he's still Shang Qinghua. He's still wearing An Ding robes and carrying his king's seal.

Well, at least he's still a cultivator. His chances are much better in this body than in his original one.

To Run Its Course

Even with the seal not working, he can't help but look for his king in every shadow! Mobei-jun is very resourceful, and his teleportation powers are stronger than anything except Xin Mo itself! (And Xin Mo can cut between worlds--would his king ask Luo Binghe for help, if he found his servant lost beyond retrieval?)

Eventually, in another room like every other, he sees it. His king's body, lying warm and empty on the floor, the plants of this place already overtaking it. It's been long enough that any ice has already melted.

This is really quite upsetting!!! Did his seal not work because his king had already died?! Were they both taken together? Why would someone kill Mobei-jun and leave Shang Qinghua alive, ah!

A sound behind him--someone has come into the room. Suddenly, he's inextricably convinced that this, here, is the person who must have killed his king--that they let him go free this little while just so he could find his king's body and know that he had failed before they killed him too.

He unsheathes his sword in a fluid motion and slashes a sword glare at the door. He has to go on the offensive if he's to have any chance to survive! It's not like he's the War God! He spends more of his time on accounting than martial arts!

Contents Worming

Eventually, Shang Qinghua slumps against a wall. Not to rest! He's an immortal cultivator, he's not so out of shape to need to rest so soon! But his morale needs to rest.

Unfortunately, it's not going to get one. Something moves on the wall next to him, and suddenly, enormous sticky tenrils are invading his clothing. The shriek he lets out absolutely does not sound girly!! But he was hoping there wouldn't be plants that assaulted you like this here, ah! PIDW had the excuse of being written for papapa scenes, is this world also full of porn logic?!

Leaping away from the wall brings the sticky tendrils with him and exposes him to more crawling up his legs, but it does at least reveal that these aren't some kind of aphrodisiac plant, they're extremely large and sticky earthworms. Which could still be an aphrodisiac poison! He's not going to let his guard down! Unfortunately, he can't attack them with any kind of spiritual technique without hitting himself! Which he would prefer not to do! And if he wounded himself, any toxin in the sticky slime would just immediately be in his blood, which would be worse!

A flash of lightning shows an open door to what looks from the amount of rain coming down to be out of doors, and he lurches towards it--maybe the rain can help him wash this slime off before he gets afflicted with Thousand-Year Earthworm Mating Poison or something!

Wildcard

If you have any fun ideas for this fool, hit me!

Edited (it's not tropical here oops) 2024-01-30 23:03 (UTC)

[ how fast can i speedrun a voice test/test drive? who knows, but yolo. if you've got any questions, there's a permissions/impressions post in his journal! ]

arrival/general purpose; wailing of the rain

[ in a quiet and dark corner of the ship, any at all and none in particular, someone wakes up. for a moment, in his disorientation, still shaking off the— dream?— he wonders if he'd only lapsed out of consciousness for but a moment, and awoken back to the same situation he'd remembered being in prior. his surroundings are as dark as they were before, the pervading sense of negativity around them punctuated by the occasional howls of the gusting wind outside.

but— no. where he'd been, the winds were strong, but there hadn't been any rain. he'd been outside, more or less, and here he isn't. more or less.

he's here, and no one else is. that's... that's good, right? it means it must have worked, regardless of any lingering impressions of blame and fault.

it has to have worked. but there's a gap in his memory from when and where he was last, and waking up here, the lingering phantom sounds and sensations even now of dripping blood, not his, and that ... surely, nothing could have happened, right? he doesn't know how he got here, and that lost time—

—no, it must have worked.

the cat who'd arrived with him—oh, he hadn't even noticed at first...—meows to him, and he responds like he can understand it, a soft, unsure murmur for anyone who might be nearby to hear: ] I don't know, Sulpher.

[ another meow, then, and an at first faltering, but then more firm nod as he offers the cat a shoulder to hop up onto. sulpher's right. might as well get their bearings, a lay of the land, find somewhere less wet...

see if anyone else is here as well, he decides, slipping out of the suite and through the darkened hallways like just another one of the shadows on the ship. ]

seeing is believing; the voice of the dark, from the abyss

[ the indistinct whispering filtering in from around every other corner of the ship bothers him surprisingly little, it seems, because he forges through the ship like he doesn't hear them at all. nor do the shadows of people, making their way through the ship as if ignorant to its current condition.

it's the way that his steps veer him away from any such apparitions that would give him away, but, then again, it's hardly as if one person's hallucinations are apparent to another. there's no one there. he'd learned quickly after looking for the first of them.

but should you meet him onboard the ship in a way where he can't simply skirt away from your presence, and your presence is apparent enough to not seem simply another apparition, you'll be met with a guarded, but more defensive than actually hostile stance: ]

... You don't know what's going on either, do you?

to run its course; disruptor

[ he can navigate the darkness adequately enough, brief, small flashes of flame from a raised and outstretched hand lighting his way when the halls grow too obscured, but regardless, he quite literally ends up tripping over it, and then going still in shock, as recognition dawns upon him.

several things he'd attempted to ignore prior come rushing to mind in quick succession. missing time. that blank space he woke up to— what had happened? did he do this? ... did someone else? someone here—

like the one approaching them—?

come across them, and you'll be met with the flash of a set of blades that materializes itself from shadow, and a snarl that would rather be that than a sob as he hovers protectively over the would-be body, because there has to be something he can still do as long as they aren't hurt further: ] Who's there?

Stay away from us...!

[ (the cat, incidentally, disappears when the blades come out.) ]

wildcard;

[ wanna try something else? hit me up via discord or pm. ]

Edited 2024-02-11 01:06 (UTC)

arrival
Adric has had a difficult time getting it to make sense. First he thought: The blood must be his. No one else was on the freighter. But thunder cracks, and he's unharmed. A hallucination? A dream?

The problem is, even as he starts taking in his surroundings, getting his bearings, he just can't explain how he ended up here.

Is he still in the freighter? He must be, right? Except everything is moving, shifting. And even they had crashed in a jungle, and Adric had somehow managed to survive (which is improbable at best), how could the plants have grown inside it like this?

"Hello?"

There must be someone here. His voice would echo, if it weren't for the plants everywhere, not to mention the storm, drowning everything out. Literally, from the looks of it... Still, he's not easily deterred.

"Anyone?"

He tries not to lose heart at how small his voice sounds...

seeing is believing
There's no such thing as an afterlife in Alzarian culture. Philosophically, you could maybe argue for the cyclical nature of things. As a scientist, he knows matter will disperse and reform. But consciousness? Adric has no reason to believe in anything like that.

Well, until now. He keeps seeing things.

It's not like the concept of ghosts is unknown to him. That's what it feels like. Further proved by the fact that every time he tries to investigate, it fades away. If it was merely someone out of phase, like Biroc, caught in a different timeline... Or an echo through the timestream... He should be able to see it closer, right?

The first time, he hears someone trying to rescue someone, that someone's caught under the rubble. Of course he rushes to help. Then it's gone. And it happens again, and again.

Maybe he's just gone crazy. Or something is messing with his mind. If only he could find someone. But no, whatever it is, it's not real.

Yet that doesn't stop him from going towards it, every time he sees or hears something. Maybe this time, he'll learn something...

to run its course
Adric knows it's a long shot. He has no idea where he is or how he got here, and can find no logical explanation. Which means it's doubtful the Doctor would be able to either. They all probably think he's dead from the crash.

But they haven't abandoned him yet. They've always come back for him. The Doctor, Nyssa, even Tegan. She was so upset when he was forced to stay behind. He'd promised her they'd see each other soon...

He's not about to stop searching. The TARDIS can go anywhere. There's always a chance.

So he's fighting his way through the ship, trying to find any hint of his friends. Once upon a time, he was quite adept as navigating through jungle and marsh, but it's so dark. He doesn't see the root crossing his path - but at least the landing is soft, and he can't get any more dirty and soaked through at this point.

The flash of lightning almost gives him a heart attack. Not the light, nor the thunder, but because of the body in front of him.

"Doctor?!"

Adric scrambles forward towards the body of his friend, once again lost to the darkness. Lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, body just as covered in dirt and leaves and wetness as Adric is.

Before he can look closer, he freezes. There's someone behind him.

Threaded | Flat

QUESTIONS

Casper LeBlanc Jr. | Tabletop OC