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etrayalogs2024-09-27 01:18 pm
etrayamods) wrote in etrayalogs2024-09-27 01:18 pm
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.
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. 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. |
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He's stuck with the image of Gorgug perched on a cheap plastic chair in a classroom, fiddling with a controller. Gorgug standing at the top of concrete stairs with bags held sort of awkwardly in his hands, worrying about his lack of dance prowess. Gorgug, carrying Fabian's robot baby, making the first check in after the mission, tired and quiet and still pushing through it. His hoodies, his careful semi-awkwardness that contrasts with weird moments of serene understanding, the duck of his head that seems like a perpetual habit.
The way he looked at Krouse in that office, the way he sounds now. It's probably hypocritical, or something, to be thinking that Gorgug's just a teenager. They're nearly the same age.
But maybe that's why he's wincing behind his tree, feeling the humiliated frustration of being so fucking upset and not able to do anything but lash out about it as an echo in his chest. It's not old news for him. He was there, back in the cell he couldn't stand staying in, as much as he deserves to be stuck there.
Between that, and having heard more than a few other people explain to him how he ruined their fucking lives, it's hard to not wonder if this is his fault. If some fucked up thing from his nightmares crawled into Gorgug's head, or he dragged something back from the Moorecroft mission, or he was just a catalyst. Even a bad luck charm. He fucks up everything he gets anywhere near.
This might as well be his fault. ]
Okay. [ Krouse says, quietly, and the fear that it's true blazes off of him like a signal flare behind the tree. ] So what did I do, exactly? Because - I don't know if you've caught this, but I'm sort of a slow learner.
What did I fuck up? Specifically?
no subject
There's no release from that hurt as he hears Krouse continue to speak, questions, or one specifically, that enrages him as Gorgug tries to focus on his voice. What did I fuck up? -- like he doesn't know what he's doing. And doesn't that make Gorgug more the fool, colouring his vision brighter as the rage in him increases, his heartbeat pounding away.
Gorgug's walking, clenching teeth instead of immediately answering. Location, location. He knows he needs that much above the anger boiling inside him, the shock of that small new hurt bubbling away. And there's a direction he senses, a contrast to the surroundings that fixates his eyes towards a fixed spot that stands out: fear, giving itself away like a signal flare.
It's not an exact position, but it's close enough. There's a hurry to his steps, some vague attempt to be quiet, to not just stomp, but to be careful despite the anger in him: Krouse might teleport again. And the last thing he cares to do is to answer Krouse, but he might be able to kepe him at bay. Trick him--can he trick a trickster? ]
I was helping you and you ran away! [ The upset isn't hidden. He can't get that off his mind, let alone his voice. But he does slow his steps, torn between humiliating himself further to play Krouse and having it be a waste of trying. ] Am I an idiot to you? You said you wanted to help my teammates. I'm just trying to help you.
[ Without trying, his voice comes close to breaking at the end; and there's a blur to his vision, as the close companion to anger and humiliation creeps up onto Gorgug too, saliva escaping down from the sides of his lips where his tusks rub against the inside of them.
He can't cry right now--he needs to get Krouse. He needs to get him back. ]
no subject
I believe you. [ He does, is the thing. ] And I don't think you're an idiot. I know you're smart.
[ He means that too, for the nothing it's worth. It sounds hollow to him, too. Because when you lie to anyone as much as Krouse does, you're making them an idiot, time and time again. That's part of why it's such a goddamn betrayal, keeping information to yourself.
When he pushes off the tree, he knows it's a bad idea. It's a bad idea when he steps out from behind it, his hands raised halfway to surrender, his eyes dark and earnest and so fucking sorry (you're always fucking sorry). ]
I know you're smart enough to figure out this isn't all you talking, right? [ Some of it; enough of it; the parts of it Krouse is finding hardest to hear. The parts where the hurt is all Gorgug, however bent to whatever is happening to him it is. ] Which I know sounds fucking condescending, but just -
[ He's wasting his time. He's wasting Gorgug's time. He has no reason to listen to a word Krouse says. Anything he tries is probably making it worse. His expression tightens, his feet shifting back a step. He switches tack mid-sentence, abruptly, without segue. ]
How much do you want to hit me?
[ He asks, raggedly, and this is such a bad fucking idea. ]
no subject
I want to hit you so bad. [ He wants it so much. He wants to grab Krouse and squeeze, until he can get all his rage out of him; no matter how long it takes, no matter what Krouse looks like afterwards. He wants it outside his body. He wants it out.
But maybe he shouldn't be honest: who would want to approach him with that truth? But his anger is keeping into that self-pitying state where it isn't all red, but some blob of blue mixing in. He still wants to hurt Krouse, but the idea that he can convince Krouse of this, something, whatever this actually is--
There's no reason, no logic. He doesn't hear Krouse talk about who's talking, because it means nothing to his ears. ]
I just wanna hit you because you hurt me. [ Maybe all he wants is Krouse to listen, and to be on his side. Understand him. See what he did wrong. ] I told you I get mad. I can't help it. You made me mad.
[ Or maybe he still just wants him to get close enough to cave his skull into the ground. ]
no subject
It wouldn't be the first time he took a punch, or worse, thinking it would provide an outlet for someone else's anger. It was most of his management style for a whole teammate. He can handle being a punching bag.
But he thinks of the way Gorgug talked about how he gets mad, and that's what snaps him out of it. ]
I know. I know I did. And - [ believe me, he almost says, that habitual verbal tic of his ] - if hitting me would help you, I'd let you hit me.
[ The degree to which he has a choice about Gorgug hitting him is up in the air, but there's a difference he thinks matters, in some way, between Krouse giving in to his impulse to let someone fuck him up as a way to make things easier on his own guilty conscience, and Krouse eating dirt because he wasn't fast enough to get out of the way. ]
But I don't think it'd help you. And not because I don't deserve it, because fuck, yeah. I do. But I don't think you're that guy, Gorgug. I think if you hit me right now, it'd feel good, for a minute, but when you come out of this -
[ Let him come out of this. Let this be temporary. ]
I don't think you need that on you. I don't think you like it when you stop being mad, and you've done things you weren't in control of. Am I right, here? Does that track? You remember that, right?
no subject
He's saying too much. He's saying things that don't align with his feelings, and then do in other ways. He doesn't want to be mad, but thinking that triggers the upset already crashing through him, spinning his head and thoughts where he doesn't know what he wants. He wants to be mad; he doesn't want to be mad; he doesn't want to be alone; Krouse is a target.
Gorgug doesn't answer him immediately. There's a pull towards Krouse in his body from the fear he was providing, that need to push him back over the edge, to get him there by whatever means necessary. And then there's part of him that's spilt too close into upset, where it makes his anger hard to grasp and slip from him; where he can't zone in on Krouse like he was because of it. It turns his brain into cotton, and he starts to make sounds between gritted teeth: drawn out, pained, his hands coming up like he might grab at the sides of his head, but his fingers become taut, then turn into fists, then open again.
The noises turn into yells, short, agitated--an attempt to get out the excess emotion already screaming inside of him. He's hurt people. He's hurt Riz, he's hurt Fabian, he's hurt Rosie; he's hurt so many people, and he can't come back from that because of who he is. Because he's a monster, and he'll always be a monster, and Krouse is telling him he doesn't like it, but--
Just kill him, some darker reasoning in him whispers out; that reminds Gorgug of his axe. His eyes have been screwing up, saliva dripping from his mouth, loose tears wetting his face. He's not looking at Krouse, not looking anywhere, his vision somewhere around the ground.
He stands, not yelling again, but breathing quick, short breaths. His shoulders shaking in the exertion, body trembling where he's positioned. ]
no subject
He even sounds almost the same. The rent, inarticulate, wet noises, slobber and growl, choking on furious sobs. ]
I used to know someone like you.
[ Krouse says, gently. So fucking gently. ]
Never really knew how much she could hear me, either, when it got like this.
But that wasn't her fault. And this isn't your fault. Whatever is going on with you, it's not your fault.
[ Krouse keeps his hands up, but the set of his wrists has changed. Like he wants to reach out more than back away, but he knows better. He holds his ground here, at the edge of the disaster. ]
Sometimes it's just bigger than you are. That doesn't make you stupid. It doesn't make you a bad person. I know that. And you're going to come out of this, and you'll be okay. You'll get there. This isn't going to last forever.
[ He promises, not knowing if it's true. He promises, because it's all he's got. ]
I'm sorry. [ The words that aren't ever good enough. ] I'm sorry I made you feel like this. That's on me. Not you.
no subject
Just kill him. It slots itself inside his head, a thought that stands out: a thought disconnected from his own. He doesn't rebuke it, doesn't accept it, as Krouse speaks what he can't fully take in, the snot and mess running down his face. His eyes begin to flutter, some desire to look at Krouse, but--he doesn't. He knows what will happen. He knows it won't be good, for this moment he can recognise that.
And Krouse is--someone, he cared about. Cares. Someone who doesn't deserve this. Someone who needs to, who needs to-- ]
--n, [ he grunts out, catching on a sob. The tremors have reached across his skin, makes it feel alight, hot. Makes him want to rub it down until it's raw, to tear it off. He squeezes his fists tight and in place. ]
R-run, [ he tries again, manages to get it out. The third time comes out voiceless, but he doesn't stop, as the part of him that knows that this won't end now, that knows this is bigger than him; that he can't fight this off forever, the turning of his rage. He can only suppress it with the same upset that Krouse put in him, that made him freak out in the first place--that may have the chance of saving him right now. ] Run. Run, run, run, RUN, RUN, RUN, RUN.
[ He shouts, does his damnedest not to look at Krouse or his direction to see that he's followed the instruction; puts his fists by his ears, trying not to hear anything about Krouse, where he might be going, that he even exists. His shouting increasing, his last attempt to keep at bay what comes next, and that's all he can do: he can't fight it, as the sound from his throat deepens into something harsher, bolder, louder; as his muscles begin to flex and bulge with his veins, the rage in him turning him into what he is for now.
A monster. Only a monster. ]
RUN.
[ Krouse has been given a minute, barely--before Gorgug raises his head up and looks, searching, nothing but violence on his mind. ]
no subject
He's been trying to be a better listener.
As Gorgug chants his singular, desperate instruction, Krouse pivots on his heels and bolts. Cigarettes or no cigarettes, he's not a bad runner. As he runs, he scans the dark forest, his power flickering from one object to another as they come into view, and he leapfrogs with another log, half-stumbles on new terrain under his feet, shoves off a tree, keeps running.
He's barely a silhouette in the dark, the red of his hoodie drowned in the shadows to black, when Gorgug raises his head. He's there for another second before he disappears again, a log left rocking to a standstill where he was, snapping forward to vanish into the obscure, lightless edges of visibility in the deeper trees.
It's the worst he's felt about running away from anything in a long time. He anchors to another chunk of dead wood, switches forward, trips for real this time, scrapes the living shit out of one hand on a rock buried in the leaf litter, gets up, keeps running, fingers curled over the blood welling up in his palm.
As much as he tells himself this isn't abandoning Gorgug, his chest burns with more than his heaving lungs. He can rationalize it all out, tell himself it's the right thing to do, and it could be. It could be. But the right thing to do, Krouse has been discovering, usually feels like fucking shit.
He has to talk to Riz and Fabian. He has to make sure they know. And then - then he'll work from there.
He's a bad friend, and a liar, and a fucking asshole. But he's never been good at giving up on people, and he's terrible at knowing when to quit. ]
no subject
Being so furious doesn't leave much room for having one's wits, however. Krouse stops little to listen, and his darkvision kicking in makes the world turn into shades of greys. Every time he pauses, he grabs at bark and claws into it, stopping a harder instruction for his body to follow than anything else.
He may not see Gorgug, the times that he does look back--he may try his best not to look back, and to focus on going forward. But even if he doesn't, Krouse will hear signs of Gorgug, or what may be him: an impact to wood that makes the trees somewhere far yet near groan across great distance, a creaking and flutter before another topples, its age and state before its fall hard to discern.
Gorgug doesn't shout. He doesn't scream any longer. He only chases for as long as this rage dictates he should, and it is a rage that will burn through him until he has no choice but to stop.
He won't even feel the relief in stopping. ]
no subject
He looks back when the first tree falls. It's barely a shadow inside of shadows, a suggestion of movement as it topples and crashes, the canopy of the forest disturbed by its passing.
He looks back because he thinks, for one second of doubt, that he'll see her.
But that's insane, because he knows where he is, and he knows who's in the woods behind him. He wrenches his gaze forward just in time to see the next tree he jars his shoulder against, sputtering a breathless half-curse, before he spins and shoves out at a slightly different angle. Keep moving. That's all he's doing. Keep moving, don't stop, keep moving.
Once he breaks out of the treeline, it takes him almost fifteen seconds to realize he's out of the forest. All that means is he has a clearer field of view, tilting his trajectory for the false security of exterior lights. He stops when he trips for the last time, slamming onto hands and knees outside of the Kwik Trip, breathing so hard he nearly gets sick with it. He lies face down in the grass instead, flat, low profile, listening for sounds of pursuit over the rush of blood in his ears.
Nothing shows up to kill him. He spits thickly into the dirt and fumbles with his ear piece to bring up the HUD so he can scroll through the contact list.
Who ya gonna call, he thinks, absurdly. He drops his forehead back into the grass, his panting breathlessness broken up with soundless hitches of his shoulders. ]