MISSION 005 PT 2 & ARRIVALS

[etrayamods]

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: September 27th-???
WHERE: Throughout Etraya
WHAT: New Arrivals! With a side of mission 005.
NOTES\WARNINGS: Horror elements, including fear-inducing landscapes, distorted environments, unseen predators, mental/emotional distress, potential body horror, corruption, possession, brainwashing, and compulsion.

⏵ disrupted arrival ⏴ Your arrival does not go as anticipated. Aurora, the AI that keeps Etraya in order, had been overtaken by the Im'mari earlier in the month, her systems corrupted by its influence. While efforts have been made to save her from succumbing to it, much of the city is still in disrepair. New arrivals will not awaken in pristine hospital rooms, but will instead awaken within the Dhaliwal-to-wall Bookstore. Cots are laid on the ground surrounded by books. Kneeling beside them is a woman - or rather, Aurora, with her new body that is vaguely similar to the makeup of those from Connor's world. Her features are strangely serene, with light hair framing her face. Those capable may recognize that she is machine, rather than flesh and blood. Beside her, a vital monitor thrums as it monitors the newcomers, checking them over for any abnormalities that may require her attention. Those who may have arrived injured will find their wounds well-tended to. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience." Her voice is steady, tinged with something almost apologetic. She offers a slight smile, looking over her charges. "We are in the midst of a mission that has... gotten out of hand. My name is Aurora. You have been chosen to protect your home world, and I am here to assist you in achieving that goal. The multiverse has begun to fall apart, and Echo will only be able to protect some of them. You are here to show them the importance of protecting your world." She will remain to answer questions for those who respond to her politely in turn. For those who opt to be unkind, Aurora will simply shake her head in disappointment and pull herself up to her feet, moving to check on her next charge, if any remain. Otherwise, she has other matters to attend to. Each newcomer is given an earpiece to connect them to the others residing on Etraya before they exit the bookstore. Welcome to your new home. ⏵ into the fractured city ⏴ Once the initial shock of arrival wears off, they're left with the daunting reality that is Etraya: a collection of islands teetering on the edge of collapse, still reeling under the influence of the Im'mari. The streets outside are eerily quiet, but signs of life and activity are scattered throughout the city. Aurora provides a moment to gather their bearings, but the weight of her words hangs in the air: there is no time for complacency here. Etraya may be fractured, but it is still home. For now. Whispers of Im'mari's influence linger in the city, and numerous individuals who have been drafted have become infected by it. Faint shadows seem to move just beyond sight, strange echoes sound in the empty alleys of Nova City, the hospital appears to be temporarily taken over by something otherworldly, and while many within the city are beginning to figure out their next steps in taking care of what's happening, others are left reeling, consumed by the fears that haunt them. It may be wise to scout out a few safe zones among the untouched areas of Etraya. Ramsey Farm seems to remain... mostly peaceful, outside of the havoc caused by Mena the goat. The catacombs under the city proper also seem to have escaped Im'mari's notice - for now. And while it may be covered in snow and cold, the Wolf Cove also seems to be relatively peaceful. Outside of safe zones, others who have been present in the city for long may provide useful information, if one were to seek them out. There are strange objects imbued with dark magic hidden throughout Etraya by Gorgug and placed strategically to affect those who come into contact with them. Those who are perceptive enough may be able to find and neutralize these objects before they spread further terror. With enough effort, perhaps things will return to normal. ⏵ whispered influence ⏴ The air in Etraya is charged with tension, thick with the weight of something ancient and malevolent. Whatever it is has already begun warping the landscape, but what lurks behind the shifting reality is far worse. Im'mari, a fragment of the cosmic horror that ravaged Moorecroft through the night, managed to follow those who returned to Etraya on their journey back home. Its insidious presence creeps through the city like a shadow that refuses to lift. This isn't just a fight against fear. It's a slow devouring, a feeding on the darkness that lingers in every corner of your mind. Im'mari is not a distant beast; its very essence has embedded itself into the heart of Etraya, infecting wolves, plants, and even a few of those who currently call Etraya home. Its influence spreads like a whisper in the night, quiet at first, almost imperceptible. But with each passing moment, with each shudder that goes through one's spine as they face their fears, it grows stronger. The more one struggles, the more it feeds. Can you feel it? The weight of it pressing in? ⏵ through the veil ⏴ The whispers grow louder. Perhaps you see it in your friends. A little shift in their tone, the way they hesitate before speaking. Or perhaps it's something deeper--subtle changes, things you'd never normally question. Maybe they seem more irritable or doubt themselves in a way that feels foreign. You wonder: is this just the strain of the mission? Or is it something darker? "It's easier if you just give in." And the more you listen, the more your world bends. You swear you hear something--a voice, someone calling out to you. Or was it just the wind? The scent of blood hangs in the air, though when you search, you can't find its source. Suddenly you see it on the walls--a message, a memory from your past--something that grips you with a cold fear. It settles deep in your gut, but it's too late. The image lingers at the edges of your vision. Your mind is playing tricks on you, isn't it? Or is it something else? The longer you linger in the halls of the apartment complex, marketplace, or the hospital, the more the world twists around you. Objects shift in your peripheral vision - did that lamp just move? Did that thing lingering just at the edge of your peripheral vision just speak your name? Im'mari is everywhere now, its influence seeping into the very walls. While Aurora has been freed from its web and continues to work to regain control of her city, Im'mari tightens its grip, refusing to give in. The stairs creep beneath your feet, the scent of rot clings to the food in the diner, and the hospital's medical rooms are empty... or are they? Was that a scalpel, or something else? Paranoia begins to creep in, the lines between reality and illusion blurring the longer Im'mari maintains control. And grows bolder. Words, sounds, and images warp the world around you. Faces appear in the shadows. Scents that shouldn't exist hang in the air, triggering memories you'd long since buried. Blood, ocean waves, familiar voices fading in and out. The longer you stay in these places, the more paranoia seeps in, eroding your defenses and wearing you down. Many objects may seem harmless, but Gorgug's magic has imbued them with dark energy. As you pass them, the whispers begin. A stair creaks underfoot and suddenly you're back within a memory. A stone shifts, and you catch a glimpse of something that shouldn't be there. These objects are traps, set to trigger the worst within you. Each time a memory comes to life, it seems to warp the world around you - the hallways stretch, the lights flicker out, and you're certain someone is following you. The paranoia builds, a creeping dread that won't leave. You have to find the source. Break the spell, or endure it continuing to spread. ⏵ cottage in the woods ⏴ As you travel deeper into the twisted forest, the air grows heavier, more oppressive. The scorpions that guard the way to the cottage scuttle through the trees, their pincers sharp as they block your path. Vanessa lingers there, her appearance changed, eyes glowing a fiery red. Black veins pulse beneath her skin with the same dark energy that courses through the Im'mari. Along with her are her guardians, ready to fight to defend her. The closer you get to her, the more distorted the forest becomes. Light blinks in and out, disorienting you. You're not sure which way is forward, and the scorpions hiss from the shadows, attempting to lead you away. But you must keep going. Vanessa stands at the heart of it all - broken, feral, lashing out at anyone who dares to approach. If you get too close, you'll hear the whispers. "They see evil in you. You're no different." If confronted, she may call upon her magic, using Verbis Diablo. But if you act fast, you can attempt to stop her before the words take hold. ⏵ NOTES ⏴ There is a header for new arrivals if they wish to talk with Aurora! For all questions relating to this mission, please refer to the plotting post. Please keep an eye out for new comments, as we have many new characters and players arriving! All other questions can be directed to the FAQ. ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

npc threads.

[arora]

(with hikaru)

[tinflower]

[ There's plenty of reasons that Gorgug can make up in his mind for why he's doing this: going around Etraya, helping the place and people rot. Why shouldn't he? being the main factor, and he doesn't actually care to go beyond that simple desire. It's better this way, because it should be harder for everyone. They should break. They should just give in.

And they shouldn't have anywhere to hide.

He's never gone to this small pocket of land before, but the buildings are visible from across the river. It's not exactly curious that takes him to the small shop, but to see if doing so is worth it: will people think to come here? Do they?

The tiny bell above the door twinkles as he pushes it open gently, doing so as he keeps his arm out straight and walks forward, letting the arm drop once he's stepped inside. He looks, scleras black and with pupils white, around the busy mess of books and cots, and sees figures.

One he knows, and another less so -- the one that kneels beside Hikaru. ]

Oh. It's her. [ He turns to face their direction, a glint flashing across his eyes. ] You should let me take her.

[ It's a simple request, really. Nice, even. ]

vanessa ives | penny dreadful

[matermali]

{ through the veil
and i struggle and shriek ere the daybreak,

[ Until now, Vanessa has wavered between moments of clarity and wallowing in self-despair. Nothing seems to provide her joy. Any flicker of pleasure is quickly overcome, even when with those closest to her.

Her time spent in Grandage Place is less and less as a dark calling keeps drawing her back to the cottage. She hates now how it is surrounded by trees. She hates all trees, but especially those nearest the cottage. For every other one she passes, she can see the body of her old friend, hanging and burning, with a ragged whisper from burnt lungs: ‘Be true.‘

There have been good memories there, but all she can focus on are the terrible. The death of her friend. The murders she committed. A love forever damaged. There is an unmarked grave out front, and sometimes she can hear whispers from below the disturbed earth when she sits in the doorway. Murderer. She is between worlds. Always between. It would be so freeing to finally commit to something, even if that meant giving up everything else. Wouldn't that be the truest existence? Finally?

Anyone might catch her moving between the two residences, and if not, then they might find her near the hospital.

There, she lingers in the street, staring with a haunted gaze at the distorted building. From within, she can hear echoes of her own screams. Cries of torment from years prior that have ripped through time to scrape through her mind.

Over a fogged window, she can see words that have been written with bloodied fingers: ‘Time for treatment.’ ]

{ cottage in the woods
being driven to madness with fright.

[ Eventually, there is nowhere else for her to go. It isn't safe here, it isn't safe anywhere, but at least the cottage is isolated. She's less likely to hurt anyone—or be judged.

Some have insisted on keeping her company, but even that is nothing to celebrate. Can misery love company when it is all-encompassing? When she can feel that catastrophe is inevitable? She can sense when it approaches in the forms of an interloper, and the serpentine shadow reaches the doorway before she does. There, she is deathly pale against the dark entry, but for the inky black veins beneath her skin. Red irises burn over black sclera, with eyes long tear-stained. She is entirely unkempt, with hair fallen loose in dark tangles, and her black Victorian dress wrinkled and slept in.

Still barefoot, she steps beyond the doorway to glower at anyone who thinks to trespass. For many, the cairns that are painted in blood with a scorpion will keep them at bay. For the rest, Vanessa's companions are welcome to block from entering.

Whatever their intentions, she can only believe the worst of any potential intruders. She can only envision another witch hunt just like years before, which had itself been instigated by another witch. Even if there's only one now, she can tell that more will come.

This time, however, she will not allow the mob to win.

The sunlight breaking through the canopy flickers in and out, and pale, deathstalker scorpions skitter from the warping shadows. A warning—or an attempt to misdirect and guide away into a void of their own fears.

When she speaks, Vanessa's voice is low and rasped, creeping with the spread of the scorpions. ]

Go away.

[ ooc; Vanessa is going to be a source of furthering fear and other dark corners of one's psyche, so feel free to run into her if you want your character's day to get worse! Plotting comment for Vanessa is here, both for before and during the boss confrontation. For the confrontation, please plot with others to ensure we are all on the same page with what's going down.

You can also find me at cherto or DM through Disco chat for further plotting. ]

[magike]

( mirrors were a terrifically useful thing, letting rowena track the infection to vanessa, locating the witch to teleport herself over there. and she'd picked a wise location, somewhere outside of the boundary of the cottage, letting her scout a little more as she approached, feeling the protection around the border.

her eyes light up when she stops walking, a bright purple glow as she feels for that spell on the cairns, ignoring the others that seek to bar her entry and watching vanessa as she moves )

You know that others will come.

( rowena didn't know when but it was a tale that any witch knew, particularly when danger followed them. a hunt. rowena didn't know if dean would become involved or if he would hunt the witch as he often did, but those who were untrained were more to be feared.

for as much as rowena looks at vanessa her attention is still on the cairn, feeling at that spell, before she reaches a hand out to it, the glow in her eyes brightening as she casts latin words: a disenchantment spell, one that would fail for not being quite specific enough. the cabirian invocation was a good disenchantment spell but even it had limits. like different magic from what it knew )

cottage in the woods { group battle

[matermali]

[ So the rest of the gang OOCly doesn't have to wait for the Rowena thread before tagging in! Have at!

This will be taking place after Rowena's initial scouting, and she will be fending off rabid wolves summoned by Vanessa by the time others show up. Aelwyn and Gorgug are still a barrier to Vanessa, as are the cairns painted with blood scorpions. ]

through the veil;

[tinflower]

[ Gorgug--without the common method used, nor without ill-intent--stalks Vanessa Ives. He senses something out there in the labyrinth of the trees, guiding him in a way through its tricks where their barriers slip away for him: because his mind doesn't need disturbed when it already is. What it needs is guidance, or an answer, or so Gorgug thinks.

It's been one too many nights of exhaustion, where his rage bubbles over from where it boils inside him, when his limbs haven't had time to get over the last. There's been no rest, and if he was promised the chance to curl up somewhere and sleep, even if it meant not waking up again, he might take it. Or he'd take the head off the person offering it. That was probably the most likely outcome.

His wandering, its pitiful search, leads him to the small break in the trees to where the cottage sits. Vanessa crouched by its doorway, a view that makes Gorgug stop at the start of the clearing. An emotion creeps up through his chest, his breathing already slow, careful, and his fists clenched so tightly to keep at bay an anger barely kept so.

He continues to walk, towards the scenery that may not let him fully approach her, that may make him stop before he can get close. The emotion rising more and more, that hasn't been given the opportunit to speak over the violence in his body or mind. Though it's always been there, hardly small, and also building up over the days.

Gorgug stops as close to her as he may get--will stop, even, if she asks. All the while still looking at her, watching her, his brow crumbled tight and his mouth just as pinched. A look that can be mistaken as angry, furious, with those fists of his still tight.

Or, it can be seen: for what it is: a scared, lonely boy. ]

through the veil (in the woods somewhere)

[dangerousmind]

[Little pig, little pig, let me in.

Standing at the mouth of the forest again brings an odd nostalgic feeling to her chest. That poisoned sentimentality that counters any pretensions an Avatar might have of having surpassed their human origins. Memories that spring to mind. Nightmares that dip into dreams, sweet memories of nights spent in the Nightmare King's forests of Fallinel Dog Town.

Her arms are crossed behind her back. There is a small smile on her sickly looking face. The effects of the curse are terminal on her now. Or at least they appear that way.

I'll huff and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in.]

What a lonely existence we've chosen. [A smile reaches her lips but doesn't reach her hollow dead eyes. At six feet tall, Aelwyn has a tendency to loom at the best of times. Especially when she comes out of nowhere, like the forest itself cleared the way for her.

She speaks with the utmost solidarity. Knowing loneliness. To stand on the ouside and never understand the middle.]

Wen Kexing | Word of Honor

[ghostlord]

Disrupted Arrival

On the heels of victory comes complication. He should be accustomed to that; Wen Kexing has not lived a comfortable, normal life by anyone's sane standards. Thus he tries to take his strange circumstances in stride. He is just on the point of examining the books when Aurora makes herself known. One glance at her is enough to chill his blood and he quickly makes sure he has his fan on him.

"...multiverse?" he frowns as he tries to place the word - much less the idea of multiple universes colliding. Yet one cursory glance around him - at the other newcomers - tells him she might be onto something. They look nothing like the people from his world - unless they live far from everything he knows. That could be a possibility. Pulling out his fan, he cools his face, waving it back and forth idly.

"I've never heard of other worlds."

Into the Fractured City

He ventures into the city once he has his earpiece, walking sedately as if he is merely out for a jaunt. However he is watching and listening to everything, filing random details away for later when, hopefully, this puzzle makes sense. Clothed in white robes and waving a white fan, he stands out, pristine and bright in an otherwise dismal world.

"This place is running out of time." he glowers into the shadows and then smiles, the expression cold, "How can we save a world that has already been thoroughly poisoned?"

His voice is recorded by his earpiece and he taps the foreign piece of technology with his forefinger. Is everything he says and does being recorded? How naughty! He really must make it worth their while.

Through the Veil [CW: Gore and child abuse.]

Before he can get into too much mischief, he encounters another oddity - and this one isn't amusing in the least. As he walks down dark corridors, searching for familiar faces or magical objects, he is repeatedly stalked and attacked by memories he would rather forget. His latest one involves Ghost Valley and he sees himself standing above the other ghosts, holding the carcass of the previous lord up for all to see.

"What's the point of showing me this...?" he grimaces and waves his hand, trying to disperse the foul imagery. But another memory is on its heels and he witnesses himself - as a child - being struck repeatedly and told, disgustingly, to ask for more. The corridor before him lengthens and almost seems to tilt. Kexing hits one of the walls and closes his eyes tightly.

Through the Veil

[fated_dance]

Zishu had thought he'd heard a familiar voice, though he hadn't responded. It wouldn't be the first time he'd hallucinated - won't be the last, and he knows it. But walking through the city, doing his best to help those he comes across without exhausting his limited strength, he spies a scene that steals his breath.

Ghosts, by the masks, followed by someone holding the head of another.

Then a child being abused. But this child...this child, he knows! His eyes go wide and he shakes his head before gritting his teeth and forces himself forward. This cannot be a memory of his, but perhaps...a nightmare. His heart aches for that poor child he'd known, but had lost.

Something hits the wall, and he shakes himself to focus. Frowning, staring hard into the dim light - there! He keeps his steps silent as he slowly approaches, mouth dry. He almost misses himself calling "A-Yan?"

How can it be?

Nie Huaisang | Mo Dao Zu Shi

[illicitly]

A. Disrupted Arrival - Closed to Newbies

This is a lot to take in.

[Huaisang says out loud to no one in particular from where he's browsing one of the bookshelves. He hasn't even had a chance to catch his breath after barely surviving the horde of undead his nemesis back home had sent out to slaughter him and everyone else he knew after conspiring to render them all helpless against the threat. Right now, however, a far greater danger and existential threat has made itself known not just to himself and his sect but literally everyone in the world he knew and the world itself.

If Huaisang wasn't still mentally and emotionally drained after the siege and the quick, precise string pulling he had to do before and during the meeting ultimately deciding his enemy's fate, he'd have more to offer.

So instead, rather than immediately dashing out the door to see what's happening outside, Huaisang's opted to borrow a lewd used book that caught his eye on the shelf and take a bit of time to unwind first. He's not going to be of help to anyone until he can clear his head first so he's claiming one of those oversized chairs in the reading nook.]

Why don't you take a moment to yourself, too, before we start charging into a situation we know little about?


B. Into the Fractured City

[Huaisang can't stay in the bookstore forever, as much as part of himself wants to just find a place to hide. Whether he likes it or not, he's the only hope his sect - no, his whole world - has at survival. So he treads cautiously into this unknown city, reminding himself with every slow, careful, and deliberate step that people are counting on him. It's no different than the path he's walked going up against Jin Guangyao, he tells himself. Hadn't he been horribly unprepared and for that undertaking, too? And what did he do back then when he'd started out with suspicions and minimal clues? He'd gone out there and started looking for answers.

In his considerable experience with investigation, this means making connections and looking for clues. Surely, there must be others who've been here longer, who've managed to learn their way around this place with a firmer grasp on the mission at hand. Huaisang's not without his own ideas of what to do but it'd be best if he learned more about what's currently happening in Etraya from the others here before he starts taking action.

Spotting someone he doesn't recognize who looks busy doing something, Huaisang makes a beeline to block their path, haphazardly tapping into his spiritual powers to boost his speed along the way so he's a supernaturally swift moving blur of loose, flowing hair and rustling robes. A rare and frankly frivolous flex of power for an audience - not his usual masquerade. As much as it pains him to step out of his comfort zone, Huaisang thinks it's in his best interests to present himself as useful.]

Excuse me. Can you explain more about what's going on? Particularly what this mission's about? If you could pass along any information you have on the city or what initiatives are being taken to resolve matters, that would be helpful as well.

[Maybe a little bit demanding for a newcomer to just dump on someone whose path he's literally blocking right now but he is the aristocratic leader of a martial sect. Some things are just in his blood.]


C. Whispered Influence -> Through the Veil

Can you feel it? There's something in the air of this place. It feels heavy.

[Yet not as uncomfortable of a feeling as it probably should be for Huaisang who's spent the past decade living in a continuous state of anxiety and dread. His clan's ancestral tomb has a similar oppressive air and while it may be enough to give outsiders headaches,it's never bothered Huaisang. Still, it's enough to make him wary, especially given his limited understanding of Etraya. The closest explanation Huaisang can give for what's happening based on his own life experience and knowledge of his world back home is that the city is cursed by dark spirits of some kind.

Thankfully, Huaisang has some training in this sort of thing. Technically. Though his powers are limited. Still, he has to do what he can, to the best of his ability. Maybe that'll help him pass this test. If he just tries, maybe it'll be enough to keep everyone safe back home.]

Listen, I don't suppose you know where I can find paints and a brush? I might know of something that could help keep us safe. Maybe.

[If not, Huaisang's got nothing to offer. But he's determined to make it through this test one way or another.]

D. Wildcard

[OOC: Plotting comment here! If you'd rather plot via PM or DM on Discord, that's fine, too! Will match format.]

A.

[redheadedstepdad]

[ After spending a solid three minutes turning the earpiece over his hand, Shanks finally puts it on and starts exploring the library. He's eager to jump into whatever danger, but that's when someone reasonably suggests to take a moment, and when he looks up he catches sight of that book cover.

And suddenly getting a better look at that book is his first priority. It looks fun, he wonders if it has pictures. ]

Charging in is how we learn more, isn't it?

[ He's wearing a clock that covers most of his left side, so it might not be immediately obvious he's missing an arm. The sword hanging on his right hip is hard to miss, though. ]

D WILDCARD

[ghostlord]

[Nie Mingjue is a hulking figure, wielding a saber with the strength of at least two men - if not three. Madness has gotten the better of him in this cursed memory and he growls animalistically, throwing his full weight at his little brother, his saber lifting to sever, to crush, to kill. A white fan spins into action at the last moment, bouncing, hard, against the saber, knocking it off target.]

That's enough. [Wen Kexing appears behind Huaisang, catching his fan with one hand.] We shouldn't stay here.

[That's the only warning he gives before dragging Huaisang away from Mingjue, his dark eyes darting from one corner to another. He has faced his own nightmares and he is quite tired of them, frankly!]

a;

[banworthy]

Right, you are.

[ Coming back from the dead does tend to tire a person out. He continues to run his fingers along the spines of the books, looking for something, but not quite finding it. ]

Still, names work best to start, hm? [ He shifts his posture, turning so he's facing the young man, and offers a smile. ] I'm Vincent.

B

[maximumlegend]

[ .. oh.

Wow, this is a lot. Not even a bad kind of a lot, but Fabian has been so occupied with the way this place seems to have been shifting and changing for the worse - and taking his friends right along down with it - that he didn't even think new people could arrive in the middle of this mess. He blinks at the other with one eye, clearly looking confused as his brain tries to recalibrate itself to deal with this information.

(One might assume it's the inhuman speed that startled him, but no, Fabian is very much used to that. It's entirely the fact that--) ]

Wait, are you new? Right now?!

[ It's not your fault, Huaisang.. Fabian is just a little baffled by this place's decisions.. ]

Jason Todd | Batman: Wayne Family Adventures

[leastdramatic]

Disrupted Arrival:
Well, at least it's a bookstore. It's one of the few good points Jason can think of at the moment. Nearly everything else about his predicament isn't great. He's not even sure if he can trust Aurora or the earpeice he's been given. For all he knows, it could be someone's twisted idea of a game and he's one more kidnapped victim for it.

After Aurora's talk, he scans through the bookshelves. He'll be ready to leave once he's done with that.

Into the Fractured City:
Leaving the bookstore and checking the outside world doesn't help Jason's mood. He doesn't know what happened in Nova City but clearly it was something terrible. From a distance he sees the hospital. It reminds him too much of an even worse version of Arkham. Just a physical leaky container of fear.

"'Mission out of hand?'" Jason scoffs to himself. "Yeah, no shit."

He scans the area around him. Civilians are around. Someone local must have some intel to give. And as much as he doesn't like it already, the hospital may have some key information as well.

Through the Veil:
It was a mistake wander around the hospital. The whispers Jason hears sound more like laughter. They sound like the laughter of the last person he wants to see or hear. But maybe he's being paranoid? Surely if it was him, there would be a much bigger show of it. The Joker can never down an opportunity to make a scene. But then again, one of the few things the Joker is consistent about is he's rarely consistent.

Jason's breaths are shorter as he walks. He's just barely stopping himself from shaking. His hands are close to hips, near his gun holsters. At one point, he jerks, spins around, and whips out his guns. It's not the Joker but the green spray-painted graffiti he sees before doesn't ease his nerves. The words "HA HA" are all over one of the walls.

Wildcard:

((OOC: Plotting comment here. Can also always PM through plurk, Discord or through this journal. Open to brackets or prose!))

Through the veil

[levelshift]

Accelerator has been wandering through the hospital for a bit now, tense and irritated with his surroundings. The halls keep shifting, making any attempt at memorizing the new layout completely futile, so he's given up on that and is contemplating just breaking down walls.

He hears the laughter before he gets to that level of annoyed, so he decides to follow it, not liking how this place is making his skin crawl. Coming around the corner is when he runs into Jason, right after he's pulled a gun out, and does the very wise thing of stopping where he is so as to not startle him.

"... Oi."

[mostdangerousbird]

There's a gnawing fear, lodged at the back of Tim's throat. It's been there for a few hours, at least, and he wants to blame it on the new faces he's been seeing around. New arrivals put everyone on edge, and why shouldn't they? They were on edge, and with good reason, having suffered through the least informative, so-happy-to-have-kidnapped-you welcome wagon. If someone is inclined to react poorly to bad news, nothing like landing in the middle of a horror movie to dial their anxiety up to 11.

A good horror movie, too. There's ambiance. He could do with less ambiance. He turns on his "Tim" earpiece to bitch to Aurora, if the AI is listening. "You know what would be a great way to test the new guys, A? Stopping a mugging. Just a simple purse snatch. We don't need to reskin the entire... city."

Tim clicks off the earpiece. Jason Todd just walked out of the bookshop. A Jason Todd, anyway. He gives him a cautious, two-fingered wave.

book club?

[definecat]

There's a cat also checking out the shelves, although one might be excused to think they only are considering them as a playground. They have been carefully walking on some of the wider shelves to peruse their surroundings. Still, they do sometimes pause and paw at a book to see the back cover better, and other things that might hint at being more than just an ordinary housecat. Still, one never knows, right?

They notice the other bibliophile and sit up in a spot next to a book-end, considering him for a long moment.

"Mrow?"

riz gukgak | dimension 20: fantasy high

[stresstokens]

i. hospital.

[ Perhaps you, like Riz, have made your way into the hospital to inquire further, only to find yourself dreadfully lost in its labyrinthine halls, dark spectres seeming to slowly drift across your vision before disappearing entirely, a chill seizing upon your body. There's some raw, animal part of your body that knows the longer you stay here, the more likely it will be that you'll simply become one of the sorry creatures roaming the halls, that your body may freeze and wither away if you stop moving, that those phantom hands will seize upon your wrists and ankles and drag you into the depths, the miasma threatening to choke you --

But wait. You're not alone. In the distance, you hear a quiet sound of scattered footsteps. Someone's here. To kill you, to drag you down with them, to... ]

Hello? [ It's a quiet, tentative voice around the corner, belonging to a soul as lost as you: one Riz Gukgak, a Goblin of diminuitive stature, gun held aloft as though he can simply shoot the ghosts to second-death. (He can't. He tried.) ]

ii. baron.

[ As you roam and step into one of the hospital's many rooms, you find the world around you shifting and changing. As your vision adjusts to the darkness, you find yourself in an old, decaying one-bedroom apartment. It's not just the lights have been turned off. You can tell from the utter silence cloaking the space that the power has been cut completely, no familiar hum of the refrigerator or television, the chill in the air seeming to seep into your bones. You know instinctively from the dust coating the surface, the stale stench in the air, that whoever has been here has been stuck here for a long, long time.

Venturing further inwards, you see that every single reflective surface in the room has been destroyed -- not just destroyed, but shot, bulletholes in the wall, glass strewn across the floor, the sharp scent of gunpowder still fresh in the air. All but one: the television sitting in the middle of the room. As it turns on, the fluorescent glow illuminates the figure sitting in front of it, knees hugged to his chest, the gaunt hollows of his face only accentuated by the meager light. A firearm lays at his side, but he doesn't turn to point it at you, or even look at you.

Instead, his gaze remains on the television, a tinny laugh track playing loudly against the backdrop of what seems to be a hokey family sitcom featuring a collection of loving families, Tiefling, Gnome, Half-Orc and Elven alike, each set of parents cuddling on the couch while staring proudly out at their kids. It's all very sweet, very normal -- until you see the bone-white figure of a puppet standing stock still in the midst of the tableau, huge, empty eyes staring directly at the viewer.

Riz doesn't move. It seems almost as though he cannot. But past the general dialogue of the sitcom, the puppet speaks in a cracked, lilting voice, heavily accented in a European pastiche: ] Riz Gukgak, are you happy? I've brought a friend here to play with you.

iii. killer.

[ Or perhaps you run into him in one of the newly forested areas instead, twisting and turning through the dense boughs of wood and spindly branches until you come to a large, grassy clearing -- one that looks almost like a football field instead of a forest, tacky white lines strewn across it and a shoddy goal made out of knobby branches set out in front of it.

Standing there is one Riz Gukgak with a smoking gun, a figure even smaller than he is crouched beneath him and howling in pain, the ground tacky with blood beneath him. He's clutching at his hand and where his fingers used to be are nothing but bloodied stumps, each shot off with careful, deliberate precision. ]

You killed me! [ The figure wails. Riz continues to stand over him, seemingly impassive. ]

This is a trick. You're not here. And stop being a baby, we didn't kill you, [ he tells the figure harshly, staring at him unflinchingly even as it shifts and moves between forms, growing in size, a bullethole suddenly gaping in his temple. The figure's voice deepens. ]

You killed me, and you liked it.

[ That one, Riz doesn't argue. Instead, he turns to look at whoever's joined him with a quiet huff of a sigh. ]

Collective hallucinations. I wouldn't pay much attention to anything you see here.

iv. safe zone.

[ In the midst of all of this wreckage and pain, there has to be an opportunity for a breather in there every now and then, and none better to take it with than a young man who's prepared to the point of paranoia, his trusty briefcase at his side. Even if he feels a frisson of fear every time a new person arrives, worried that they'll just make things worse -- it's just not natural for Riz not to try to help.

Not that he's a particularly reassuring sight. In the catacombs like this, he looks more like a Goblin from old tales than he does in bright light, squirreled away in a cave, luminous eyes that of a predator, but not prey... until he speaks, voice a hushed whisper. ]

Hey. You okay? I've got food, and water, and a first-aid kit here... oh, and some flashlights, if you don't have Darkvision.

[ He can be useful. He can try. ]

[ OOC: plotting comment is here, hit me up for anything!! ]

iii

[tinflower]

[ It's Gorgug that Riz turns to, the half-orc not looking away from the shapeshifting figures; recognising in each one who they are, who they were, and the circumstances surrounding them. His expression unperturbed, if even a little pitying for the state of the dead coach, watching the blood that pools out from the hole in its head. ]

What do you think they're trying to get out of you?

[ It's a simple, genuine-sounding question: because who would be able to guess the underlying fear within this scenario, of a goblin who finds killing so easy? Even for a friend, who goes to the same school that encourages the same senseless violence.

How honest will Riz be, in this instance? When he sees little reason to ever be honest when it comes to himself? ]

gorgug thistlespring, d20: fantasy high

[tinflower]

1; dissociation

[ You were somewhere, anywhere--the apartments, the markets, the hospital, or even the outdoors. Most of Etraya cannot be trusted not to warp and twist, for open fields to become littered by trees that abruptly started surrounding you. Some kind of supernatural infection poisoning reality itself, and not even those already poisoned are safe from their own traps.

The world has become monotone, both visually and emotionally. Walls, trees, the open space: it's lost colour, sound void, where you can barely hear yourself breathe (that is, if you do). There's a pressure over you, and you sense that they're emotions of another that live in contradiction: a layer of apathy persists and paints the scenery the way it does, but there's something deeper, a trembling of emotions buried, kept locked. Whatever they are, they're intense, even as this apathy acts as a wall to shut them out.

It's a suffocating state to be in, at any rate. It's possible to move far away to escape it, but you'll be able to tell that you're getting close to the source, when: ]

It wasn't enough... I thought it would feel good... I just wanted to go to school and make friends...

[ There's a voice, a young-sounding boy, speaking, quiet like someone muttering to themselves, but you hear it as if it was right against your ear. But that's the thing about this place as it is: even your voice sounds incredibly loud if you were to speak. Maybe, even if you don't see the person, they could hear you if you spoke up now.

Or maybe you can seek them out, walk until you find them: a young 6'4" half-orc walking in clothes tattered from battle, a strange, white substance splattered and burnt into his jeans and hoodie. Blood stains his clothing as well, and his head hangs as he seems to wander the area despondently, a great axe dragging along the ground from his hand. ]

2.1; nighttime refuge (safer mode, backdated to the first part of the event)

[ It's hard at night for Gorgug. His rage nightmares had been returning with the stress of school back home, and being in Etraya hasn't done much better for them. And ever since he worked with others to fix up crystals to get peoples' souls out from the mirror trap, he's been getting less well-rested sleep. They start waking him up at different points of a night, and sometimes--he can't shake it off. The irritability, like excess energy despite the exhaustion under his skin.

Gorgug wanders the main apartment building on these nights. A loud crash sounding for any of those close to the apartment he shares with Riz and Fabian, and then a green boy shuffling through the hallways. His breathing sounds loud in the silence of the night, as he works to quiet his body--quiet his mind. Or perhaps it's the sound of his footsteps, especially when he walks up and down the staircases to find some calm.

Were you already awake? Or was someone being rude in the dead of night to make you open your door, and make you step out to give them what for? ]

2.2; no refuge (danger mode)

[ As the days in Etraya worsen, so do the nights, and so does Gorgug's ability to sleep. His bouts of apathy lessen in the face of his fits, where he can come up with every excuse in his head to target the environment. Why should he help anyone? Why should he help anything? It's never good enough, no one cares about him, he's a joke, a laughing stock.

And you don't need to meet people face-to-face to get back to them. So Gorgug moves through Etraya, day and night, targeting areas of important: diners, food resources, and even the hospital, down its halls to locations with medical supplies. To do what any rational, sane person would think to do: to put an adamantium axe through the shelves and to scatter the stock, crushing food and pills under his foot.

Perhaps you're in one of these locations already when a 6'6" half-orc enters inside; perhaps you hear him before you see him, or he sees you, smashing down a door or some other irritable item along the way, causing noise. Or do you walk into this destruction instead?

It's probably not a good idea that he's fucking with resources. Or maybe it's a worse idea to try and stop him. ]

3; traps

[ You've been trying to get rid of the traps, but then more appear. Small stocks scattered around, hidden behind things, or just crumbled paper, when the light fixtures have been removed, smashed from previous fear spells that sunk in too deep under the skin. Or you have the ability to dispel the magic from the walls, the stairs themselves--but after a day or two, they might return.

Or, you find someone where a curse used to be, standing with a hand on an object, pulsating a black smoke from his hand if he's touching a surface; or breathing out the same substance from his breath as he whispers into a stone. Speaking into it, and then dropping it, or about to.

He stands in a trance as he does, not paying attention to much, or not trying to. Even the most kind will find it hard to think he's helping, when he gives off the same aura of fear that's clinging to Etraya as he works his magic.

You could catch him unaware--but if he does see you, his eyes will bore into you, black scleras against white pupils, like he barely acknowledges you as a thing. ]

( ooc: hello hello! so gorgug has been infected since before the mission, and is way too gone to help. however, with some prompts i'm willing to work around things getting too violent and giving characters chances to escape if that's what you want, and they can always run at any time. i'm also ok with getting down and bloodied.

these prompts can take place pretty much anywhere!! i'm loosey goosey since your character can make use of the environment as they would. prompt 1 deals with some very early (like, second ep) fantasy high season 1 spoilers, and deals with dissociation and death.

your character may recognise Gorgug if they were stuck in the mirror as he helped in getting them out, and they would have been at his lab for a period during the process! which they would also know he's always had black scleras/white pupils. i have a plotting post here if you want to hash anything out! )

2.2

[maximumlegend]

[ Fabian is mad.

Mostly at himself, really. Because he somehow didn't see, and he feels like a total dumbass for it. Even as he slowly realized that something was starting to creep into people in this place, he didn't realize that the very same thing had crept right into one of his friends, into a part of his party. He didn't realize, and now it's already too late. As he stomps through the twisted world, it's like he can see the traces of Gorgug every now and then. Something that feels like him, and yet not at the same time. Something has twisted his friend into working for this place, into helping make it even more of a torture trap, and Fabian can't forgive it for that.

Even less so when it's not just Gorgug involved in this. He's seen the hurt in Riz too, and Fabian just knows that has to do with Gorgug too. There's no way anyone could ever hurt anyone in their party as effectively as one of them, after all. Who else would know the spots that hurt Riz the most when pressed?

Fabian has already been tightly wound up more and more over the past few months, but it feels like it's all coming to a head now. He wonders if this is what barbarians feel like - when you get so angry that it's hard to feel anything else anymore, driving Fabian to act, because he can't just sit with this feeling.

It's not even like he wants to fight Gorgug. It's still his friend. But he has to stop him, has to do something. Fabian doesn't even care that he knows he will lose when it comes to a competition of physical strength. A Seacaster doesn't just sit around, not in the middle of this. He acts. He defends his friends in the only way he can. Fandrangor hangs at his side, his ripped battle sheet abandoned in their apartment for now. It'll only get in the way if it isn't not even whole.

There's no hesitation as he steps into the diner, even though all the sounds from outside make it very clear what's going on in there - a fact that's only confirmed when Fabian finds himself standing in the middle of what is clearly nothing but destruction everywhere.

And one half-orc in the middle of all of it. ]

Gorgug! [ Fabian calls out, a determination in his silver eye. ]

Sleeper | Marvel Comics

[definecat]

A. Arrival

Sleeper was surprised to be on the camp bed in an unfamiliar bookstore, but they do their best to play it cool. The robot woman's spiel is the kind of thing that puts their ears back, but they figure it's just something to take in at face value for now. There's definitely an emptiness to this place, like no other Klyntar presence as been here, no hive to connect to, even if they desired such contact. Perhaps it's a side-effect of how Dylan cut them off from the greater hive to be part of their small army, but they have no evidence either way.

For a while, the cat-like being sits, contemplating their surroundings while laying on the bed in a loaf shape. Considering their surroundings and the people around them. Judging, assessing, calculating. They don't speak, playing mute for now as they try to decide just what moves would be best. A multiverse under siege is nothing new, but the idea that they were selected as a potential savior is...unsettling. They know how most of their world, their universe views their kind, and that reputation is hardly favorable. Was this Echo collecting outsiders, misfits, or what?

Finally, with a put-upon huff, they get up, starting to move around the bookstore, padding quietly, sometimes leaping up on a shelf to walk along it and take in the titles. It might be nice to read a bit while they try to sort things out, but finding the right book for that kind of distraction is a mission in itself. Finally finding a volume that looks interesting, they leap up to try to paw the book free from its shelf to find out more about the contents.

[ooc: Can be either among the books or still loafing on the cot.]

B. Into the city

The first thing they notice on leaving the bookstore is the scent of fear. Sleeper can't tell where it's from or what caused it, the stink is so pervasive, as if every being in the city is wallowing in the emotion. They slink through the alleys and try to get their bearings, exploring with caution. Fading into the shadow is child's play for them, making them blend easily into the background. Hunting information, understanding, and safety are among the their goals, but hunting is a goal. Perhaps it's a flash of movement that draws attention, or the skittering of rats or other small prey. Whatever it is, the cat isn't completely invisible, just difficult to spot, and even harder to pin down.

Perhaps you run across them doing a bit of mousing, or searching among the detritus for anything useful. Perhaps you just spy them watching you as they observe the city from a convenient perch. Perhaps they find you. Dare you approach?

C. Safe Zones

Finding places that are clear of the miasma of fear was easier with their heightened senses, and finding one meant time to take a break. This place did not seem the kind to allow sleeping most of the day away like any self-respecting cat would. But there were a few places the darkness didn't seem to touch, and, well, they took advantage. Wildlife seemed familiar enough to be considered for future meals, but there were other things to take care of, too. And finding someone to talk to might be easier if they were somewhere one wouldn't get attacked by things and people.

They aren't a deep sleeper by any means, however, so all four eyes blink open when they sense the presence of company. Narrowing slightly in judgement, their head raises and Sleeper says, "Meow?" in a questioning manner.

D. Wildcard

[Plotting comment here. Feel free to hit me up on PM, Plurk, or Discord if you want to spitball ideas.]

c

[shabuir]

Like Sleeper, Fett had entered the catacombs searching for a respite from the darkness above—and perhaps even a few minutes of light, scattered sleep. However, the fear-inducing miasma spread through the city hasn't helped his already-typical paranoia and so he's doing a bit of exploration first, making sure the tunnels are clear of any threats. Honestly, he'd prefer them to be clear of any other people at all; he doesn't like letting his guard down around others.

He hasn't found any people in the tunnels so far, but he does come across something else: in one of the niches carved into the ossuary wall curls an unfamiliar creature, feline in shape with a black and yellow hide. It doesn't look like any wildlife Fett's ever seen before, and for a moment, he studies the creature as it wakes. Two pairs of red eyes blink open and watch him in turn, but the animal is apparently placid enough not to flee or lash out. Whatever force has driven the wolves in the forest haywire doesn't seem to be infecting this particular species. Perhaps it's even tame.

That last possibility sticks in his mind. If the creature is someone's pet, that might mean the owner is nearby. Beneath the cover of his visor, Fett's eyes flick down the corridor—finding no one. His helmet's sensors don't show anyone else in proximity either, but with the way the catacomb tunnels twist and turn, that isn't a guarantee.

His eyes settle again on the creature. If he wants to know whether or not it's tame, there is a simple enough way to check.

He extends a gloved hand towards the feline, though he stops well short of actually touching it. If it is tame, maybe it will come closer. And if it's not, it will likely flee—or perhaps attempt to bite him, but given the thick material of his gloves, Fett's not too worried about that.

samil | original

[rowd]

i. won't you pour me out a glass of gasoline
( content warnings for: blood, gore, mindless violence. sam is likely to attempt to kill anyone who attempts to come anywhere close to him! so, yanno. )

( it hurts.

but the pain isn't a surprise. hell, if it were just physical pain, sam would be just fine and dandy. he's been pulled apart, ripped to shreds, torn to pieces and he's come out the other end with his head still intact despite every instinct yelling at him to just let go. to let himself lose himself in it. sam has lost control a few times, yes, but it's always been brief moments of instability followed by someone grabbing hold of him and telling him to simmer down.

unfortunately, it's the loss of that stabilizing presence that has him losing his shit this time. that has him listening to the whisper at the back of his mind that urges him to just say to hell with it and let instinct take over. he hears the cries of those he's lost in the distance, the snarls of his people telling him how if he'd just been better, none of this would have happened. if he'd tried harder, held himself together longer, if he'd just been faster, he would have been there in time to safe rafferty. if he'd stuck close to ari here, maybe he wouldn't have lost him again. if he hadn't been so goddamn slow, maybe sy'd still be around.

give in, the walls whisper to him. let go. and he's just - so tired of fighting it, so tired of keeping himself together, so angry, that sam does just - let go.

his fist slams straight through one of the walls of the hospital, fracturing the bones in his knuckles and fucking his wrist up beyond what would have been tolerable for any normal person. but sam isn't human, it hurts, but only for the moments it takes his skin and bones to begin to patch themselves back together.

blood drips down his arm, and he raises it once again. turns towards the sound of whispers from somewhere else and slams his fist through it once more. the sleeve of his jacket shreds, wood and glass lodging into the skin beneath it as his arm pulls back and swings back again.

the hospital's lobby is already fucked with whatever aurora had done to it before the black shit had settled in, but sam? is down here making everything a hell of a lot worse. every noise is met with fists and teeth, mindlessly destroying anything that may move within his vicinity. )

ii. set me on fire
( content warnings for: blood, gore, violence, possible child abuse/death mentions, a very slight chance cannibalism might come up. )

( the gold ring of his eyes is much, much brighter than it usually is: there's no sign of infection, and it isn't the same kind of glow that those who are infected may exhibit, but it's bright enough to be spotted from a distance.

considering outside of his eyes, he's a mess covered head to toe in blood and carnage - well. at least it's a very visible sign that his eyes aren't darkening like some of those who are infected. sam's shoulders are slumped, the expression on his face devoid of emotion as he drags along what looks like a stupidly large claymore behind him.

eyes track any movement that happens around him, but he lets anyone who tries to walk passed him go without word. it's only those who look towards him that get a reaction out of sam: he bares his teeth, snarls. )

Fuck off.

iii. wildcard
( feel free to throw whatever else my way! i'll run with it. )

i

[mostdangerousbird]

[ At the far end of the lobby, there's drawn out metal-on-metal screech, growing louder and louder, as something draws closer -

No, rushes closer,

Plummets closer, because that's the elevator bank.

BOOM. The sound is a car crash compressed into half a second, and the lobby stops shaking almost immediately. The only noise now is Samil's tantrum and the voices in his head.

The elevator flickers. The modern mirrored quiet polish of brushed nickel. High gloss golden mirrored front of an 80s high rise. But the elevator doors that open are the mosaiced bronze, brass and copper of an Art Deco midrise, releasing a cloud of greyish dust and a view inside. Debris, a lump in the corner covered in dust - and then a pair of boots quickly followed by the rest of Tim, dropping down into the mangled cage of an elevator car and batting at the cables swinging from the hole in its roof. A razor-keen boomerang is stuck in the thickest cable.

He's still staring at it, dazed, when the hand punches through the side of the elevator shaft, luckily (luckily? TBD) through one of the metal diamonds that make up the car.

Tim screams. It's not one of his prouder moments. ]

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester | FE3H

[bergamotrose]

Disrupted Arrival

[A bookstore, at least, was territory that was more familiar to a man where soldiers rode wyverns into battle than a technological hospital would have been-- but Lorenz, a keen observer of people, still noticed that something wasn't quite ordinary about their kindly hostess. He listened patiently to the explanation, and quickly found himself reaching for the nearest notebook that he could be reach.]

A Multiverse, hm?

[He asked softly, half to himself and distracted as he searched for a writing instrument.]

Oh, Goddess, where is a pen or a charcoal here?

[A crisis wasn't an unknown, either. Lorenz would rather stay busy than dwell on the existential depths of whatever the Multiverse was.]

Into the City

[Lorenz felt defenseless without his lance.

He wasn't actually defenseless, but the presence of his trusty polearm had always helped him feel at ease. Astride his horse, it put him above and just outside of the fray, and gave him enough distance so he could observe... And think.

Without it, his nerves felt as jumpy as a little frog caught in a storm.

He needed at least a weapon, and that was what he took to town to search for... Although his vision wasn't so narrow that he didn't notice other matters or bits of information that he found.]

If it's a curse, can't we cure it by finding the source and removing it from the situation?

[He asked aloud, tapping at his earpiece as if to check that he was hearing everything correctly. He heard strange whispers if he lingered too long in any one place. At least he had found a sturdy stick by this point. A bladeless staff was better than no weapon at all.]

That is what's happening... Correct?

Wildcard

[I don't have a plotting comment, so feel free to make up a prompt or hmu at woodrift, via Discord at woodrifting or pm.]

disrupted arrival;

[banworthy]

A pen, hm? [ Coming to the rescue, he holds out a pen that he found while wandering about the shelves. ] I don't know how much ink is in it, but beggars can't be choosers, hm?

[ Of course, he probably could have unscrewed the top to check how much is actually there, but whatever. ] Quite the look you have. [ His tone is conversational, but he is curious. ] Vincent, by the way.

Pleasure despite the circumstances because, really, when would we ever meet someone from another world?

vincent smith | silent hill 3

[banworthy]

i. disrupted arrival

[ When he opens his eyes, Vincent can't say that he isn't surprised to see a bookshop. His hand glosses over his chest - and then his back - as he uses touch to see if he's all right first before looking down. Nothing - nothing.

His mouth twists into a humorless smile before he hears what the woman leaning over him is to say. He sucks a breath in to say something, but as he hears the rest, the words leave him. Again, he offers a faint smile.

Vincent is gracious enough to Aurora. He tips his head in understanding as he asks what seems to be "the usual" questions. Rather, he didn't see her pause or stutter with what he had to ask. His eyes drift to the circle next to her temple - watches how it glows - and begins to scheme.

He waves his hand in farewell once their chat is done and goes to look for books in the bookshop. One never knows what is useful in a time like this; he chuckles to himself. ]

As God wills it.

[ Is what he says as he runs his fingers along the spines of books as he walks down an aisle. ]

ii. to a fractured city

[ Only so much information can be gathered in a bookshop, it doesn't seem like he is going to find what he's looking for among the shelves, either. Either way, he has to start finding "his people" rather than mulling through this ordeal himself.

It would be nice to encounter someone with power that he could manipulate, but he doesn't assume lightning will strike twice. He has his methods, however, to garner support and sympathy. It's time to see if people are just people regardless of what universe they come from.

If they are, then, well, isn't that something? He feels like it would mean something but is still formulating what that meaning might be. ]

Still -- [ As he pauses to stand in the street, he drags his gaze across the landscape before him. ] -- it feels like home. [ Complete with an unknowable entity that cares but still deciding where to direct that endless abundance of attention and mercy. ]

Sorry -- I merely am saying that I hope I can be of help, but I'm afraid I'm a little surprised to have been called upon by such a task. Are you, as well?

[ Time to see what the stranger before him is made of. ]

iii. whispered influence [cw: body horror (depending) ]

Well, long time no see.

[ Vincent is not addressing the person coming up to him in the hallway but rather whatever is passed the closed door. His voice lowers as he starts to speak softer and in half-mumbles.

There is a heavy pressure that weighs down on a person as they come closer to him - the sound of something wet (and yet somehow indescribable) moving slowly in the room.

He pauses in his chit-chat to shift to look toward the person approaching. The smell of blood starts to assault the senses. The walls shudder and peel to reveal rust and ruin underneath. ]

Ah, have you also come to confess?

iv. wildcard

[ ooc: Plotting comment is here. If you like to plot via PM or Discord, go ahead. Also, yes, will match whatever format. ]

iii

[shabuir]

No.

[ Fett certainly doesn't look like any kind of penitent, covered head-to-toe in Mandalorian armor and holding a blaster in his hands to boot. He's not sure whether or not he'll need to use it; it's difficult to tell this month which creatures are physical threats and which are simply illusions. Still, with the thick smell of blood on the air and the sound of unnatural movement in the room, it's better to be safe than sorry.

Fett indicates the door with a jerk of his head. ]

Who are you talking to?

Boba Fett | Star Wars: Legends

[shabuir]

i. in the belly of the beast (hospital) (cw: body horror, probable mentions of torture)

[ There’s something wrong at the hospital.

That much has been true for weeks, but wander in today and you’ll find that things seem to have deteriorated even further still. It’s not simply shadows and malicious voices that corrupt the halls now; it’s something far more… organic.

The smell might be the first thing you notice as you venture deeper into the building: rotting meat mingled with something sharp and acrid, like bile. It burns the lungs and churns the stomach. It may even be enough to convince you to turn back. Hopefully, it will be.

For those that choose to venture further towards the source of the corruption, it may be difficult between the darkness of the halls and the watering of your eyes to notice when the walls change. The color washes from white to pink to red and, at some point, the surface begins to glisten—and press in. What was once flat and level is now thickly padded with misshapen clumps of something soft, warm, and wet, enveloping the walls, then the floor and ceiling until you’re standing in a tunnel of what can only be flesh.

At the end of the corridor-turned-gullet stands one Boba Fett, his helmet tilted slightly to the side like he’s listening to something. Come close enough and you’ll hear it, too: a voice. Or, perhaps, voices—a chorus of a hundred all woven into one. Those who know Fett’s voice might recognize his among them. As for what it’s saying, you only catch the last few words:

”...think you got out?”

There’s a pause. And then Fett responds. ]

Susejo. I was wondering when Aurora would drag you out.

[ His voice is calm—but it’s hard to miss that he has an iron grip on one of the weapons at his side.

It may be unwise to sneak up on him. ]

ii. rest for the wicked (catacombs)

[ Fett doesn’t know what Aurora wants from them at this point. She’d said she intended to have them face their fears—but when does it end? First the hallway, then the Sarlacc. How many more weeks will it drag on like this?

The worst thing is that it’s actually working. Fett would have thought he was better than letting these illusions get under his skin, but they’re starting to take their toll. He feels on-edge and… tainted. More so than usual. He’s watching his thoughts so carefully, trying to root out any voices or influences that aren’t his own, trying to make sure he hasn’t been compromised like so much of the city. It’s exhausting.

He doesn’t feel like braving the journey through the woods to get back to the farm, so he’s holed up here in the catacombs under the city. Nowhere feels quite safe, but this place somehow feels less oppressive than the rest of Etraya, even if it is an ossuary.

He finds somewhere deep inside the tunnels where (he hopes) he won’t be disturbed and sits on the floor, his back against one of the few walls that’s more stone than bone. It’s not exactly comfortable, but he’s had rougher stays.

Those who venture into the catacombs may find Fett there, sat against the wall, in a rare state of rest. Sleep, even, however light it may be. His legs are bent, arms draped over his knees, and his helmet is canted forward. His breathing, if one can detect it under all that armor, is slow. This isn’t something he generally does where other people can see him…

Which isn’t to say he does it without precaution. If someone enters the hallway, his helmet’s motion sensor will activate and rouse the bounty hunter from his rest. His helmet snaps up towards the movement, immediately alert—though his voice betrays some amount of weariness. ]

If you start spouting off about the coming darkness or giving into fear, [ he rasps. ] I will shoot you.

Catacombs

[morethan084]

[Daisy stays in the shadows, watching him sleep until he suddenly jolts awake.]

You could try.

[She says with complete confidence that she could take him own, her hands splayed out on either side of her as she steps out of the shadows.]

But we both know you can't escape this forever.