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

[rowd]

( i'm sorry.

he doesn't hear the words coming from tim's mouth. not his apology, just the muffled sound of noise. but he hears an apology: a softer voice, full of sorrow as it apologizes to him over and over again. as if that'll fix anything. as if a simple i'm sorry could undo bringing samil into existence. it warps, shifting from sorry to how could you, and it's all your fault, you did this, you didn't save them, you killed him and he's lost track of where his body is, limbs long since gone numb in its refusal to obey him, not that he would be able to - pull himself together. not like this.

metal clanks against metal, and sam's screeching again - that same, loud, high-pitched, inhuman sound. hands raise, fingertips digging roughly into his ears, blunt nails pressing into skin hard enough to break it.

and then he hears it. couldn't place what the noise is, just that it's loud and going up and he's - reaching a hand for one of the metal pieces within the elevator shaft. yanks himself up using his upper body strength alone. tim goes up the elevator shaft to try and get away, and sam, while not as fast, manages to start climbing his way up after him. )

[mostdangerousbird]

[ He clears the elevator and doesn't know how, exactly. Distance is math and he can't argue with it.

But math can be manipulated, data extrapolated. (Why Sam didn't attack him matters, which means why he busted into the elevator matters.) The net of those is how much effort needs to spent on keeping Sam down in the lobby for his own good.

(While keeping him away from everyone else while Tim finds some smelling salts or something. Why doesn't he have any?) (Because they cause lung damage.) (Sam can heal. He's carrying smelling salts from now on.)

Sam? You ready to listen yet? Because I got real bad news: this is not the sort of chase I want from you.

[ The angle was tight from the elevator, so the grappling express leaves Tim hanging from a lip that marks the third floor. It's enough to stand on, barely, while the cable resets. Spots the next shot. Doesn't zip away yet. ]

Stupid jokes are great. Saying weird shit to see what I do? Fine. Happens all the time. Getting hit in the face with a brick worked exactly once, and I promise it's not going to work out if you try it. There will be zero abs - and for the record, I did tell you I'd bribe you with abs. Standing offer, and I can monologue all day, buddy, I've held prolonged one-sided conversations with Onamatopoeia. I need you to stay out of the hospital. It's fucked up in here, and you're not gonna be safe if you're not engaged in the world. Or your own head. Both. Let's go with both.

[rowd]

( it still sounds like - noise that isn't words. if asked, sam wouldn't be able to explain what the hell any of this feels like. a combination of too much and too little, of his heart feeling like it's two seconds from exploding, of every single movement he makes, every feeling of anything against his skin being too much, every sound being so loud he swears it's going to break him. of light being too much, but the darkness when he shuts his eyes also being overwhelming.

he's climbing. couldn't tell anyone what he's climbing, where he's going, just that he's heading towards whatever's being too much even if every shift of his body is also making him feel like he's about ready to explode. like he doesn't fit in his body, because it's too small to hold him in it.

he's passing the second floor when something - falls into place. it's the cadence of the voice, the sound of his heartbeat, the way he smells. it's familiar in a way that also hits as toomuch, overwhelming his senses but it's - giving him something to focus on.

sam's movements slow. his pupils dilate as he looks up to tim, bright gold dimming slightly. he blinks. opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. not the high-pitched screaming, not words. nothing. his leg hurts. his arm hurts. his head. the pain is registering, as he begins to recognize that the thing he's chasing is someone. )

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Sam’s drawing closer, and Tim’s running out of time decide his next move. He can’t - there isn’t enough information. He’s done this before, tried to deescalate a bad situation with a friend that he didn’t want fight and he’d failed. Miserably. Broken bones, like that even matters, and the fallout led to so many what ifs that he can’t let this end badly. What if Sam snaps out of it after hurting him and runs off to a farm in Kansas and winds up dead?

(Stop being melodramatic, idiot.)

Should’ve interrogated Sam until he knew everything about his life, his alien donors, his max bench press. Did he? No, he prioritized the situation at hand. He could analyze New Person later. Then he wanted to be liked, sans riffing about being a nosy snoop. Surely that would be all the protection he needed. Sam’s a good guy; Tim won’t need a lifetime worth of flavor text and callbacks to shake him back to reality.

(Idiot.)

He collapses his bo and holsters it. Can’t use it on a ledge anyway. Tim peels off his mask, leaving an ring of glue and grime around his eyes, and slides down the wall into a crouch, perched on the back of his heels. ]

It’s just me. It’s Tim.

[ If it wasn’t obvious by what he’d said already. Tim doesn’t think Sam’s listening, but maybe seeing. His eyes aren’t so glazed, and he’s keyed on Tim. (Which might be worse, but that’s what the grappling gun is for.) He’s not present, but it’s not time to give up yet. ]

We can stay here for a minute. Give you time to heal. You scared the crap out of me in the elevator, but I’m okay. Scrapes and bruises were there before you showed up.

[ When did it become Sam and not Sam footnote possible hallucination? When he slowed and the frenzy abated. Guy rampaged through a wall; he could’ve easily leapt to Tim’s position with that strength. He didn’t. A mindfuck “Sam” wouldn’t wait. ]

When you’re good, I’ll get you out of here. Somewhere safe.

[rowd]

( it's too much external stimuli. but he's starting to recognize it as stimulus rather than just - noise. it's tim's voice, tim's face -- his hands hurt, his leg is fucking killing him, his head's pounding, and it almost feels like there's a goddamn skull lodged in his head. which, ha, he's felt that before. tim does keep talking though, which gives him something definite to latch onto. a sound.

a shudder wracks through his frame. sam's fingers let go of the wall he's been desperately grasping onto, dropping him back down to the bottom of the elevator shaft. it hurts, enough he hisses when he lands, but it's less - pain from dropping a couple of floors, and more pain from dropping on a leg that he'd just fucked up. he drops down onto his ass on the ground, sitting on bits of debris and rubble from tim's fall, from sam breaking in through the goddamn wall like it was nothing.

not that he remembers doing that. it's all blurs of sensation, all still too much but he's - here. knees raised, head ducked down to press on the top of them, and arms pressed tight to the sides of his head to try and - muffle the world around him.

from a snarling, screaming creature out to end anything that so much as flinched anywhere near it, to a boy trying to make himself as small as he can in the blink of an eye. his shoulders shake, body trembling, but he's - here. he's trying. )

[mostdangerousbird]

[ When Sam falls, Tim has less than a second to decide against the grappling hook. Sam outweighs him considerably, and shooting at a ball of disassociated rage and alien-equivalent of testosterone He heals. It's fine. He heals. It's fine.

He jumps himself before Sam's even hit the ground, landing carefully but none-too-gently on the roof of the elevator with a muffled nnngh. (That's another month off the He wants to drop down into the car and start getting a decent assessment of Sam's injuries and whether he's oriented to freaking anything yet. (All signs point to no.) Resuming his perch by the hole in the roof, Tim just... observes. Sam's sitting upright, moving, breathing, no signs of arterial bleeding. His body language is alarming: threatening has reduced down to panic, in Tim's interpretation. He should be - something. Checking on him, yes, but tucked up against his knees like that is startingly familiar.

That's how Tim sits when he's masking pain, too. ]

You tell me when I'm allowed to get close.

[rowd]

( he's sitting. his body's still in shit shape, but it's repairing itself even as sam breathes through the panic. but he is upright, he's breathing, he's - no longer going on a rampage, sam has gained some control back, which means everything.

shoulders shake as sam tries to bring himself back to the present. luckily, tim is intentionally making noise, he's staying close enough to be a presence that sam can focus on, and so he - does. he listens to the sound of his heartbeat, the rhythm of his voice, and focuses on his smell over the dirt and rubble surrounding them. it's a lot, but at least like this, sam can - begin to pull himself back together.

but it still takes him a significant amount of time before he feels human enough to respond. before he can trust himself to use his words responsibly. and when he does, his voice is still - shaky. it's audible, hoarse, but it's clear it's sam and not - whatever he'd been before. )

'm sorry. ( with his body still curled in on itself, sam slowly raises a hand and extends it out to tim, palm up. he doesn't move at all outside of that, just - ) Sorry.

( voice a little quieter, and sam's still not looking up, )

Can you - just hold onto me for a sec?

[mostdangerousbird]

[ The changes are small, but noticeable. It's in the way Sam breathes, how he's holding himself - tense and shaking but not so tense that it looks like he can barely contain himself inside his own skin.

Sam's talking - coherently at that - and Tim can breathe himself now. Whatever's going on, or was, the odds of Sam tearing another hole through the elevator or coming for Tim have plummeted with just two sentences. ]

You don't have to apologize. We're good.

[ Tim's arms are too short to hold Sam's hand from here. He has to go down and does, slowly lowering himself through the hole and only letting go when his arms are fully extended, barely a two-foot drop with a soft landing that shouldn't alarm or threaten.

(Stay under the hole, and there's a chance of a fast escape. Just in case.)

He pulls off a glove and takes Sam's hand lightly. He meant it, too: they're good. No one's hurt, and they can talk about what the hell happened later. They will talk about it. ]

I needed the training. 's hard to get the mental agility workouts I'm used to here. Half the nights are calm.

[rowd]

( but he does need to. he can't remember what he had been doing. doesn't know how he got here. doesn't know what the hell happened with tim. did he break all of this? why does everything hurt? he remembers--ari's gone, remembers waking up after coming back to life to find his friends disappeared to god knows where. he remembers everything hurting - not just the physical pain, but the emotional weight of all of it, too. tim's hand rests in his, and sam lets out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. grips on tight but not too tight, and presses his thumb right against the inside of his wrist, where his pulse is most easily felt. he doesn't look up. doesn't move all that much.

at least not for several long moments, while he regains his bearings. )

Did I hurt anyone?

[mostdangerousbird]

Not that I saw.

[ Not no, because Tim doesn't know what happened before he got on scene. He didn't see anyone else on this floor. Sam seemed to single-target on him. It's possible, and he doesn't want to lie to him about that. They could walk around a corner and find casualties. ]

Any scars on me are old, anything newly torn up happened on the 5th floor or when I dropped the elevator. I ran into -

[ Tim's eyes go to where he last saw Captain Boomerang, the debris-covered lump in the elevator, but it's like he was never there. Did he just - wake up and walk out in the chaos? Was he even real? ]

... something else. I took care of it.

[rowd]

Okay.

( sam sucks in a breath, lets it out with a shudder. he's still curled in on himself, hyperfocused in on tim himself, rather than anything else around them. still, he doesn't - hear anything threatening. doesn't feel anything else close by. sam's relatively certain they're alright, safe at least for the moment.

hopefully.

it's another moment of remaining curled up tight, of hiding himself as best as he can, before sam gives a gentle tug on tim's wrist, trying to pull him in closer. )

'm sorry. ( he repeats yet again, as if continuously saying the words will make it stick. ) I -... Ari's gone. Gone, again, and I - I woke up fucked.

[mostdangerousbird]

Hey.

[ He crouches down next to him. Tim would sit, but he's trying to get on the same level. He needs the extra height to bump his shoulder against Sam's lightly. ]

I said you don't need to apologize. Things... happen around here, and you're not the first friend to wake up fucked.

[ Is that enough to say? It already feels like Too Much, because Tim's invited who knows how many questions with one little sentence. Sam might be too caught up in his own head to ask or remember, and he can shift the conversation back to what's important to Samil, squeezing his hand to pull focus. ]

I'm sorry about Ari.

[ Gone can mean anything. It can mean not here, but it can easily mean dead. He won't ask. Saying it makes it real. Acknowledging it clearly makes it hurt. He doesn't need to know. Wants to, maybe, if only to understand. But Tim thinks he already understands too well, what it's like when a person you anchored yourself with is suddenly gone. ]

[rowd]

I thought he was dead, for years.

( the hurt is evident in his tone, in the way the hand he's using to hold onto tim trembles just slightly. focusing on things not the mess of broken rubble around them is - actually helpful. ish. )

We found what I thought was what was left of his body. His stupid jacket. Then he shows up here, spouting bullshit 'bout how the Seraphs'll leave us alone if we stop fighting against 'em. He switched sides on me, then fucked off before I could beat the shit out of him for it.

[mostdangerousbird]

[ And doesn’t that slam to close to home, when Tim’s already thinking about Kon. The friend he thought were dead for over a year. The friend that he later forgot.

I’ve got a friend with a stupid jacket, too.

[ It’s the easiest corollary, a safe place to start. He doesn’t know if it’s his place to say I’ve been there. It’s not the same. (But is that only giving himself cover to avoid opening up?) (Yes.)

The goal isn’t supposed to be helping himself feel stable. Tim turns their hands to bring the underside of his wrist up and squeezes Sam’s hand. The flex brings the surgical scar there into sharper relief, where doctors had pieced together the bones in his arm. ]

He did this, when he switched sides. Temporarily, no Seraphs involved, and the order of events was different. But I wasn’t … okay for a long time after he died. One blip doesn’t permanently change everything when they’re a big part of your life.

[ Just that much. No suppositions. No jokes about how he wished he could have done property damage as stress relief. No suggestions other than what he hopes is understood: that Sam can talk, and he’ll listen. ]