etrayalogs | MISSION 005 PT 2 & ARRIVALS

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MISSION 005 PT 2 & ARRIVALS

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⏴

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( gorgug's staring is obvious, but sam opts to ignore it anyway. keeps moving, because the moment he stops moving is going to be the moment he falls apart, again. it's not until the kid opens his mouth and speaks that he bothers to acknowledge his existence at all; sam's head tips towards gorgug, but he doesn't quite look over towards him. not yet. )

Yeah. I know.

( red in his hair, covering his arms, over his back, splattered all over him. it's mostly his own blood, caked in layers over flesh and cloth from his earlier endeavors.

red over his brow, red covering his face, but his eyes are the same gold-brown they've always been, albeit a little more dull than usual. that almost ethereal glow the gold usually carries is - darker. drained while his eyes keep towards the ground. )

You got a problem with it?

Edited 2024-10-03 02:18 (UTC)

[ There is the part of him--still, even when in this state--that doesn't want to bother. The part that wants to look through the world and let it stay as white noise, a canvas that he exists through. Gorgug doesn't have a problem with Sam's current situation. He can't even find it in him to worry, or be concerned.

But the other piece inside him keeps interest. Because Sam is a few things in Gorgug's mind, and the part that matters the least to him is the part that matters the most right now.

He looks at Sam. Looks at the weapon he drags behind him. ]

Did you kill anyone? [ A beat, a pause, deliberate. ] Do you know if you killed anyone?

[ He turns on his foot, and steps in Sam's direction. Curious, but also because he (it) wants to. ]

( he hits the target right on the mark. it's not did you kill anyone that pisses sam off, it's do you know if you killed anyone. because he doesn't. he doesn't know, and he hates not knowing. he could have caused damage to any number of people. for all he knows, there's a pile of bodies in some desolate corner of etraya, dead because of him. because sam lost his shit and forgot who and what he is.

it's all a fucked up mess of too much noise to try and parse his way through. less of a blackout, more of a fucked up mess of memories jumped together from overstimulation. he shoved his fist through at least a couple walls, given the markings he could find after he came through. but what if one of the things he shoved his fist through wasn't a thing, but a person. what if there's someone out there, suffering because sam can't even remember what the hell he was getting up to?

it scares him. the not knowing. )

Don't.

( don't make this a thing. don't come after him, not when he's still not quite on solid ground. when he's still reeling from everything that's happened over the last several weeks, when he's fresh off of losing his shit so bad he came to covered in blood and there's so much he can't even tell what's his and what - isn't. )

[ Gorgug inhales through his nostrils, that don't providing more than what's spoken. It flutters at his heartbeat, the pit in his stomach stirring with interest, and Gorgug knows this kind of fear: he's had it in him. There's been close calls with traps and visions of outcomes where he was the only one standing amongst his friends, their blood on his axe, and he doesn't know what he's done.

It's the fear that chased away his parents' extended family way, not knowing who he would become.

And maybe that's tantalising in this moment, growing so, standing in front of someone who can mirror you. Not the same species, but they've got one thing in common. ]

It's not the first time, right? It won't be the last time. It's just who you are. [ He takes another step, watching Sam; voice soft, tone accepting. ] Some of us are born monsters. Just accept it.

[ Give in. Why be anything else than who everyone knew you would always be? ]

( he's right.

it's far from the first time. sam can remember the first time it happened. how he'd felt when he calmed down enough to realize what he had done, the mess he had created. he'd cried that day, curled in on himself, grateful to have had someone there to calm him down so he didn't end up like the rest of the kids who just - stopped existing. grateful to have been able to pull himself together, but at the same time wishing he hadn't because he'd hurt people and that was unforgivable.

it's different, now. he's older. while sam has always understood the value of life and being alive, he's also had to take several. knows exactly what that makes him, too, but --

gorgug approaches him carefully, and sam doesn't move any closer. he drops his eyes down to the ground, staring at the toes of his boots. )

You don't get to decide that for me.

( he says it, but his voice is lower. softer. it's lost the confidence sam usually boasts. )

I don't, [ he voices in agreement, like he's conceding. At the very least, on one point. ] But I'm right about the rest. You don't have to like it--but it doesn't make it less true.

[ He doesn't move this time, watching, reading the way that Sam's body stands there, the way his mood might shift. Half-wanting his violence; half-wanting his despair. Both possibilities are drawing him in, and all of him might be becoming too attached to the idea. If Sam accepts it, then he won't be so alone. ]

What's the point of pretending?

[ He can't get his friends to see reason. Shouldn't Sam at least get it? ]

( it doesn't sound like gorgug. like the awkward kid who'd taken sam's sandwich and squashed it like an idiot. the stammering, awkward, still trying to fit into his own shoes kid that sam had been with for part of the whole moorecroft nonsense. maybe they don't know each other extremely well yet, but he likes to think he knows the kid well enough to know how he sounds - and this, this isn't it.

he looks up. brows furrowed, and eyes focused on gorgug's own. )

I don't want to be a monster. It doesn't matter what anyone else says, I decide. You know that.

[ He doesn't avoid Sam's gaze--he meets it, looking right back, black on white eyes and his expression focused. Like he's willing to stare Sam down, to keep a hold of his attention now that he's got it.

Pressing, and refusing not to press on. Taunting only in the fact that he refuses to stop. ]

Then why did you decide to be a monster this time? Did they have it coming?

I didn't--decide, it just,

( he hates how gorgug looks at him. sam's eyes drop away, looking off behind him, like he might find an answer there. )

- it happened. I didn't mean for it to.

Exactly, [ his voice cuts in, the tone more so, Gorgug stepping in closer to come into Sam's periphery. Though he might try to look behind him, look elsewhere than forward, to the truth. ] You don't choose. You don't get to-- we don't get to.

[ He's not close enough to be touching Sam, but close enough to be felt, seen without being looked at, his presence unquestioned. ] We don't get to, [ he repeats, softer, maybe for himself--because it's no less true for Sam than it is for Gorgug. They have moments of clarities, time where they can lie to themselves, and then

it starts all over again. Here is the clarity. Here comes the lie.

He looks at the ear turned to him, and the piece of Im'mari beckons him to touch Sam's shoulder, gently; to move in closer. He just needs a second. ]

It's okay, [ he says to distract, the miasma creeping up his throat. ] We don't have to be alone.

( he'd loved being with ari and rafferty. because they got it, they struggled with the same shit that sam did. ari was - a few years older than sam, he'd seen some fucked up shit before he'd taken sam under his wing and made sam his little guy, in a sense. ari had always been there to keep sam from losing his shit. to help him maintain control. to teach him how to calm down when he was getting too amped up. without ari, he'd have died a long, long time ago. without raff, sam would have been just another fucked up kid whose history ended way too soon. he'd thought they were both dead, gone forever, and then - ari had ended up here, telling sam it wasn't them who were the monsters, but humankind who were.

but he's wrong. sam knows he's wrong. it's not all of them, it's only--some of them. sy doesn't lose her shit. sy's snapped a few times, but never bad enough to forget who she is. not like sam. if tim hadn't been there, if he hadn't called out to sam, how bad would it have ended up?

how many times is sam going to snap and make a mess out of everything? why can't he just - be more human. it hurts. knowing he's failed. kept his shit together through torture, and all it took was someone fucking off on him again for sam to go rampaging through the hospital.

it wasn't like ari had meant it. he knows that. but if--if something as little as getting angry he's been abandoned again can push him over the edge, if he can't keep his cool, then -

maybe--

maybe gorgug isn't wrong.

sam sniffles, arm raising to cover his eyes as best as he can, uncaring of all the blood that becomes smeared across his face. )

'm sorry.

[ It could be understanding, it could be contentment, the ease that comes over Gorgug as Sam finds the fight in him crumbling into tears; it doesn't matter, when the substance inside Gorgug guides every response. Though the fondness is Gorgug's alone, and though the relationship they had started to built came before it... ]

I know. [ Even the understanding, the way he speaks the words, 'I know', isn't clean: it isn't guided without a purpose. Gorgug means it, and he means it too when he says he'll stick by Sam, selfish as his reasoning on top of their shared misery--it doesn't denounce the ulterior motive taking place.

He wraps an arm around Sam's shoulders, pulls the both of them in closer. His other hand is willing to give Sam the movement to put his limbs where he wants, or Gorgug will put it around the back of Sam's head, his neck. Let him use his shoulder to hide his upset, let him know he isn't alone. ]

I wanted it to be different, too.

[ The tendril comes out on those words, escaping from his mouth; a black wisp that eases itself towards Sam's ear without presence, without being noticed--only likely to be disturbed by a sudden movement.

But right here is acceptance. Right here, Sam's flawed existence is recognised and acknowledged. ]

( he is sorry.

sorry for his mistakes. sorry for hurting people. sorry for being a piece of shit who can't control himself. sorry for fucking up so bad he can't even remember what the hell he did. who he hurt, if anyone. but that's sam's burden to bear, and one he'll carry with him for the rest of his life. not just from this time, but from every other damn time he's lost his shit.

gorgug pulls him into a hug, and for a moment, sam lets it happen. a moment of continued weakness, before he shakes his head rapidly and moves an arm out to shove against gorgug's shoulder. not enough to knock him over, just enough to - push him away. )

I'm sorry.

( he repeats, again. voice a little more steady, even as he keeps his eyes off gorgug. there are tear tracks running down his face, and his voice is shaky, but - )

'm not gonna let you be alone, but I'm not gonna give up.

[ He's shoved off, the trail of smoke leaving with him from his mouth, and Gorgug looks at Sam with a confused expression, a believer of his own spun tale: they wouldn't have been alone. They could have supported each other, nevermind if mere seconds ago he would have willingly accepted Sam's violence.

And Gorgug doesn't know himself what does it: the rejection, physical or spoken, or the words I'm not gonna give up. He doesn't know which of these things stab at his gut, what starts the drumming, a solo act becoming an orchestra. Sam says he won't leave him, but that's exactly what he's doing; he's saying he's not going to give up, like that's exactly what Gorgug's done.

A lot can change in mere seconds. And now, in just a few, Gorgug's changed his mind about acceptance, or bonding. The violence overtakes him, the whites of his pupils flashing bright as he does something that Sam may only see him prepare for by the two steps he takes back.

Gorgug lunges at him, full force and weight behind it, his hands grabbing at Sam's shoulders; and this time around, he's going for a tackle to push him to the ground by the weight of his body than an embrace. There's a yell from his throat that comes deep from inside his chest, a sound similar from the last time he went into a rage in front of Sam.

And this time, he doesn't want to hold back. He wants to grab at Sam's throat, and force the misery in the back of his mouth into him, and fucking make him to suffer this too. ]

( this isn't a typical gorgug reaction. nor does this feel like a typical anything with gorgug. but sam gets it. he sees the smoke - has just enough time to catch a glimpse of it before it disappears passed gorgug's mouth and he

considers turning around and running. it's a shit idea to get too deeply involved in whatever the hell this is when sam's still working hard to maintain control over himself. which. considering gorgug lunges at him, he doesn't - really have the time for that anyway.

gorgug rams straight into him, and sam goes limp. drops down to the ground with a quiet oof, eyes looking up towards the sky instead of at the very, very pissed-off half-orc reaching for his throat. he could throw him off. gorgug has more weight to him than sam does, but sam has strength that doesn't quite fit the rest of his body, if the way he manages to hit through shit so hard he breaks his own bones in the process says shit about it. but he said he wasn't going to let gorgug be alone, and this is sam - being at least a little present. he's here, letting the kid yell right into his face, letting him reach for sam's throat to choke the life out of him if he wants to. it's not giving up, it's just - giving himself a moment. )

[ Both hands go for Sam's throat, but only one actually stays, grips--because the other decides to reach up for his jaw, fingers pressing in and trying to keep Sam from closing it; to keep Sam from stopping him a second time. Pulling it down with a force unnecessary, harsh, and it's good, the pain tolerance that Sam can handle with a half-orc barbarian in a mindless rage that doesn't think twice about if he might break it.

Because if he can't wear Sam down through words, then he'll do it through violence. He brings his head down, will try and pin Sam's head in place if he struggles, when he attempts for a second time to allow the darkness to escape from his throat, pass it along a different way--mouth over mouth.

He cares about it more than the choking, but it doesn't make his grip slacken; it only means he forgets to squeeze harder, because all of his focus is on this one thing, this one thing. It doesn't matter if Sam hates him afterward; it doesn't matter if Sam hates him now.

Because he should suffer too. He should. ]

( he's not struggling. not at first. gorgug wraps fingers around his throat, and sam keeps his eyes on the other's own. lets him grip onto his jaw, even, thumbs pressing into cheeks to prevent him from biting down. it's not pleasant, but it's not the worst shit he's ever felt either. )

Y'know - ( he doesn't have a lot of air left in his lungs, so sam moves a hand up to wrap fingers around gorgug's wrist. not to push him off, but to press fingers into the bones of his wrist, so he can suck in just enough - ) if you wanted a kiss, you could've just asked.

( it's not what gorgug's going for, and he recognizes that. doesn't mean sam can't sass him over it. and instead of trying to push himself up, he's raising an arm to try and drag gorgug further down, more on top of him, to slam their skulls together. )

[ There's no proper reaction to the sass; not like before, the youthful indignation that sounded more pouty than anything the time when Sam unhelpfully pointed out Gorgug punching his ass. The face of Gorgug is nothing but the darkness spewing from it, getting closer, and even from Sam's own efforts.

Also from Sam's own efforts: the darkness from two heads smashing together.

There may be stars. There is, for Gorgug, behind his eyes that squeeze shut with the impact. It's a dull thud, and the grip on Sam's jaw slackens some in its intensity from the angle he's now in with his upper torso closer. The adrenaline from his rage stops the pain from being anything other than a numbing, the hardening of his skin and tension of his muscles that may not provide much cushion for his forehead, but it cushions it, somewhat. Maybe.

Not that Gorgug cares. Not that he's thinking straight, and he may be thinking less straight than he was before the smash of his face when he decides, for that brief instance their faces are together, Gorgug's breath hot and saliva drooling from his opened mouth, to repeat what just happened.

He jerks his head up enough to slam their heads together again. And again, and again--depending on how much Sam allows it.

Even if the blood vessels in his face start to burst; even if there's a threat of breaking bones and ruptures that don't look right. ]

( the first time gorgug slams their skulls together, sam gives an oof, but falls back onto the ground. doesn't fight back, not even when he hears what he swears is something breaking. gorgug's head slams down against his again, and the loud ringing in his ears is enough to throw him off for another few moments.

it's not his pain that does, eventually, lead to sam raising an arm to shove his palm against gorgug's face - if he can. it's knowing that while sam will heal up eventually, as far as he knows, gorgug doesn't have the same capabilities. and there's only so much head trauma most people can take before it starts really fucking them up. he's disorientated, not using nearly as much force as he'd like to to get gorgug off of him, but.

sam can only do so much, especially when he's like this. )

Stop--hurting yourself, fuck--

[ It's not that the hand can stop Gorgug, physically--it's that it's an annoyance, which actually means a whole lot, it turns out, in making Gorgug stop.

Because it's not his listening that's getting through; not like the time they fucked around before, where Gorgug couldn't keep up his rage through his own flustering. This isn't even the same rage, isn't the rage he uses to protect his friends, to be an adventurer with. It's something deeper, that thing he was trying to pull out of himself, be comfortable with, put to its extremes. Give yourself permission to be mad.

He is mad, and all he knows is that madness as he grabs onto the arm that Sam swatted up, diverts his attention to it with fingers digging in. There's a fuzz in his head, but he doesn't particularly care for it; it only means that he won't focus so hard on trying to break the bone by pulling at his forearm in opposite directions--it takes too much thought and balancing while sitting up after smacking heads with a guy--and instead aims to get the same effect by pushing down on Sam's arm, crashing his elbow into the ground with enough force to usually break something somewhere, in however many places.

Gorgug's hoping on that being enough, that the arm and hand and everything will stop bothering him, to let him return to Sam proper. And what is Sam, but his face? The thing Gorgug was going for, but this time he doesn't return at it with his head, but starts to go at with a fist; tries to, if he's not stopped again, ready to follow that up with another fist, and then returning to the first.

Because all he knows is the hurting side of his rage, and it needs an outlet: it needs its revenge. He needs this to hurt back, and it needs to show.

And really, where better shows it than pummeling in a face? ]

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MISSION 005 PT 2 & ARRIVALS

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cw: idk there be violence here, trying to break limbs. there's been violence here