August Event Log: Part I

[savmods]

Who: Everyone
When: August 9 and onward
Where: An unexpected destination
What: The newcomers go on a trip and end up far from where they expected
Warnings: Potential violence. Please label your content!

NOTE: PLEASE READ THIS OOC POST FIRST.

When the time comes for the travelers to go on the off-world trip that will help restore Thisavrou, they are not alone. Others who have settled on the planets longer and come to call them home are also prepared to travel; through the Ingress and do their part. Yet when the newcomers step through, whether they stepped through the Ingress seconds or hours apart, they will find that they have arrived at the same time, and only newcomers are in sight.

What awaits them is not a land of plenty. The land is barren, and dark storms in the sky resemble those held at bay by the Ingress complex—but much, much closer. Those who traveled on the Moira may recognize the landscape; though they have come through at a different point from the crash, they are on the Midway Hub. And there is no portal back. They are trapped.

hitting the road

Though some have been here before, the Midway Hub is not as they remember it. The storms fill the sky, leaving it dark and ominous even when they are not sweeping across the landscape—but they have clearly done so in recent times, and often. While never a lush land, large patches of ground an acre or more wide looking nothing more than utterly dead; the thistle that naturally grows is brittle, black and unable to be consumed even with the usual preparations to make it edible, and here and there animal corpses are found twisted into unnatural poses, but seemingly uninjured. These places are particularly concentrated near the broken Ingresses litter the landscape. While Midway Hub as a whole may seem naturally arid, these dead spots leave no hope that anything can possibly live there again.

The travelers have two options: stay where they are, or move on. While it might seem that they've been tricked into coming here and been left abandoned, those with the technological ability to do so may detect a sign of hope: a familiar energy source, far in the distance. Although none of the Ingresses they pass will ever work again, the faint energy shows that one still-functioning Ingress lies far in the distance, days away.

Although technological scanning or impressive memory of the landscape indicates that they are not separated from their destination by one of the gates that divide the land, they are also far from the shelter of the facility at the center of the Hub. Any attempt to travel in a direction other than that of the energy signal will result in a strange disorientation after several hours, bringing individuals back to their original path as though they've gone in circles. Meanwhile, though travelers will feel the need to slake their hunger and thirst through any natural water sources they discover, wildlife they can hunt for food and any supplies they have on them, if they don't find sustenance, they'll find that they will never pass out or reach the point of starvation. Instead, they'll be left alive and awake but feeling utterly hollow.

storm front

At regular intervals, the energy storms above descend onto the land, bringing not rain but violent clashes of negative energy and thunder so loud that nothing can be heard above it. The passing of the storms leaves some strange effects. The ground is warped and rotted by their touch, even solid stone degrading to a spongy surface. The air is tepid and oddly charged. Prolonged contact with air or ground will not supply energy, however — it drains it from organic and synthetic life alike.

Those who remember their last trip to the Hub, or simply explore in the right direction, may come across the cave complexes with their glowing surfaces and streams. The light is dimmer now, a sickly green, but drinking from the streams will still restore the energy lost, for a time. This time, however, the lethargy that inevitably follows is much more severe, and the drinkers are left with a raw, empty feeling leeching in from the wasteland around.

Those who are exposed to the storms, either by finding themselves in very close proximity or even closely observing them for too long as they approach, may lose their sight, or hearing, even much of the ability to feel touch — whatever sense they used in observation. What lingers in its place is a numbness. A hunger. And as time passes, the time between storms decreases; what seemed like hours between the storms becomes scarcely one, and their intensity grows.

wild life

Sentient beings are not the only ones affected by the storms; these creatures, attracted to sound and able to track by scent, and these panthers, which once looked normal but have been twisted by the storms into more monstrous forms, are numerous enough that travelers must be constantly alert for their presence. Though natural predators, the threat the creatures represent is not itself natural. They are also more aggressive. Some strange instinct drives them, not a need for food. While the panthers themselves can be caught and their meat cooked, it has little taste, offering nutrition but not satisfaction.

old familiar places

Although it's difficult to track the passage of time without day-night cycles, after what seems like more than a week of the travelers' unexpected trip, the storms abruptly come rushing in at the group of travelers, as if they're herding the group to move faster toward their destination and the Ingress energy that awaits them. The true nature of that destination becomes clear when debris appears on the horizon; the energy comes from the wreckage of the Moira, the interstellar ship that crashed here months ago.

Despite the trauma of impact, large sections of the ship remain surprisingly intact, though few of them are properly vertically oriented. If travelers are able to make their way inside the damaged sections of the ship, they'll find familiar territory, if they are one of those who traveled on the Moira, as well as shelter—something that's increasingly necessary as the storms seem to center over the ship, leaving little hope for survival outside. Useful items may be scavenged from the ship if they are willing to explore, but no personal items of any kind remain.

Strangely, the deeper travelers go into the crashed ship, the less familiar their surroundings will seem, regardless of their orientation. The inward-leading paths into the ship become generic metal, and as with the travel on the surface of the planet, they may find themselves back where they started. And no matter how far they go or how hard they try, they will find themselves unable to make it to the Ingress chamber itself...for now.

Comments

Lucy Stillman | ota

[retributes]

arrival / hitting the road
[ Lucy Stillman has seen a lot over the years, whether it be historical or concerning the Animus and any test subjects Vidic would bring in for them to, more or less, kill. Yet it doesn't prepare her for this, the space travel; stepping through this thing they call the Ingress, being met with a lifeless land. Dark, empty, a wasteland—it sends a chill through her, one that isn't so pleasant nor is it welcome.

Hugging her arms to herself to ward off the unnerving sensation that all of this is going to go terribly wrong, Lucy looks around at the others. Everyone is unfamiliar to her. She hasn't been here long, there's no one to call a friend. No one to trust, but trust is for fools. She'd learned that a long time ago.

Mostly everyone seems either as confused and lost as she is or else shocked, outraged, disbelieving to the fact that they'd been tricked by these Savrii. That seems to be the general census from the murmurs and raised voices.

After standing around and staring, half listening to everyone, wondering where to go from here as she's got the clothes on her back and nothing else, it's time to put one foot forward and move— ]

Oh—sorry. [ Sorry, stranger. She'd basically full on walked right into you. ] I should be watching where I'm going. Kind of pointless though when you don't really know where to go in the first place.


storm front
...hello?

[ Darkness surrounds her. The storm had worsened to the point that it had pushed her to seek out shelter. Without food and water, what was she to do? Where was she to go? There may have been one or two that she'd bumped into initially, soon after passing through the Ingress, but to know where they'd ventured off now? Lucy can't say.

Her voice sounds loud, now that the storm has passed, the call of a greeting echoing in her head. She feels numb, she's shivering. There'd been no rain, only the brilliance of blinding streaks of lightning and deafening claps and the rumbling of thunder. She'd felt like she'd been a part of the storm, caught in the middle, and with it now passing she was floundering, unsteady.

What was going on?

Panic begins to sink its claws in. ]

Hello? Is anyone... [ Is anyone there?

Her eyes are open, she can feel herself blink. Sight is lost to her. How?

A rock catches at her foot as she's blindly moving forward, trying to uselessly retrace her steps, and she drops hard to all fours, hissing out an oath. The strain on her left wrist as she meets the ground sends a jolt of pain up into her arm, something else she doesn't need right now.

Thanks, Savrii. Greatest fucking welcome party ever, said no one.

This is karma, bad karma. Karma for what she'd done to Clay, to Desmond, to the others.

Sitting back, legs folded under her and hands clenched into fists over them, frustrated and trying hard to keep herself in check, Lucy then shouts because, what has she got to lose at this point? ]

Is anyone out there?

[ The demand wavers; who knows what or who will answer. ]

storm front

[sketchycharacter]

[Nate doesn't think of himself as any kind of hero, saving the world from an immortal warlord be damned—his sins have definitely piled up to cancel that out by now.

But he still tries to keep an eye out for anyone who struggles, falling behind the group. Survival seems...unlikely, but god dammit, they have to try. A cry of pain and then a call for help from not far off catch his attention, and he's relieved to see that it's not another animal attack. Hurrying over, he crouches to help the blonde woman up.]

Whoa there. It's okay, I can help you. Are you hurt?

Raeka | OTA

[salarianpathfinder]

[Arrival]

[Having heard about the tensions between the Savrii and the newcomers, Raeka was more than happy to attend the meeting and to help out with the mission. It could be a good first step in helping smooth things over with the Savrii, and frankly, it would be a welcome distraction from everything else that was on her mind.

Well, the good news is that she was definitely going to be distracted.

Once the initial confusion dies down, Raeka puts her Pathfinder training to work. Though her abilities are limited due to the absence of her SAM, she's still able to scan soil samples and get general readings on the area with her omni-tool. It isn't much, but at the very least she's able to determine that staying in one place isn't a viable option.

There is one other thing that she's able to determine, something that could potentially prove promising.]

There's something out there.

[She's half thinking out loud, attention focused on the orange holographic device on her arm. As soon as she notices that there's someone nearby, she pauses to elaborate.]

An energy signature. It's faint, and it's a long way out, but I'm willing to bet that it's our best way out of this mess.


[creepy cave adventure time with badass fight scenes or something]

[For the most part, Raeka had stayed close to the group. There was strength in numbers, and the fact that there were creatures actively stalking them was already well known at this point. That, on top of the threats posed by these unusual storms made it necessary to keep track of each other at all times.

The caves they'd come across offered adequate shielding from the storms, but sitting around and simply waiting for them to pass did little to calm Raeka's nerves. The lack of proper food and water (her salarian metabolism was kicking her ass right now) and the odd sort of numbness she was feeling as a result of being out in the storms weren't helping matters any, but aside from delayed reflexes, she at least didn't outwardly seem bothered. Still, she needed to keep herself busy somehow, which she did by studying samples of the glowing surfaces and water in the cave.

She hadn't thought she'd wandered too far from the group, but her current state wasn't doing her any favors in the awareness department. She'd just turned around to head back, realizing that she'd wandered much further into the cave than she'd intended and mentally kicking herself for not paying attention, when she heard what was unmistakably something rushing up on her. Something she correctly perceived as hostile before managing to react quickly enough to turn and shoot it in the... faceless toothface, almost point blank.

It was pretty much dead, which is good, but it wasn't alone. Which is less good.]

Hostiles!

[She really hopped she was still in earshot of the group, because there were kind of a lot of fucked up alien monster things closing in, and she only had so much ammo.]


[Wildcard!!!]

[yolo me bros :)]

Creepy Creepin Caves!

[beautifulspaceraptor]

[ He hadn't noticed Raeka taking off. There'd been other things to occupy himself with at the time, mainly organizing food and supplies, hardsuit and weapons maintenance- keeping track of other wayward folks as they wandered about the caves, waiting out the storm. Raeka seemed the sort to be able to take care of herself anyhow, which is more than Nihlus could say for some his charges.

The prolonged disappearance doesn't go unnoticed however. After a another round of head counting, her absence is noted. The lack of checking in over the TAB is concerning too and that's what finally drives Nihlus to take off into the caves after her. There were multiple exits from the main chamber, but he remembers the one she'd been hovering nearby before and there were Salarian tracks in the loose, ashen dirt pointing towards the depths. ]

Raeka?

[ The echoing silence makes him frown. Unclipping his pistol from his thigh plate, Nihlus moves further in, keeping an eye on the HUD readouts on his visor for any signs of her, omni-tool glowing on his wrist, picking out her footprints in the gloom. The further he gets, the more concerned he gets. And then-

A shout in the dark. He barely makes out the word but he recognizes the voice and sprints down the tunnel. ]

Raeka-!

[ Two shots puts one of the tooth-faces down. Two more sends one screeching over a blown kneecap and another seizing on the ground with a hole in its neck.

Not that Nihlus really needs to worry about conserving ammo because guess who still has ME1's bullshit magic infinite ammo? ]

Get behind me, [ he orders sharply, blasting another monster's head open. ]

Shiro | OTA

[shiro2hero]

1) The Arrival
[He should have known. He should have seen something like this coming. The conversation with Allura in the hospital coming back to haunt him like a bad dream. They shouldn't have trusted so blindly...]

[But the minute of regret passes quick enough. This is warped, but familiar terrain. He's been here, but now his entire team, his extended team, is here with him. He has a job to do. Counting himself lucky they let him leave the hospital before this happened.]

[Not long after arrival, he'll find something to stand on, not... missing the irony of it being a box-shaped rock, and squares his shoulders.]

All right, listen up. I know this is a bad situation, I know it looks pretty hopeless, but we've survived here before. We can do it again. There were animals and plants around -- if we can find them again, we can make it until the Ingress gets back online.

If not, we should head back to where the ship went down. The Moira. Maybe there's supplies left there we didn't take.

We can do this -- we work together, we'll make it.



2a) The Long March | space coffee
[Well, despite the optimistic speech, the world has changed. They end up marching. And the thing he hadn't shoved in the PacDisc becomes clear -- no space tylenol. The walk is hard on still-healing bones and muscle.]

[He's not going to complain, though. Just pitch in wherever he can. However he can -- either carrying people too tired to press on, looking after his team, or attempting to mediate. He's so busy, it seems like the guy hasn't stopped to rest for days.]

[Spoilers: he hasn't.]

[Further spoilers: he can be caught taking a drink from what looks like an energy shot canister whenever the group stops. For about three days. Before the signs of fatigue start showing up in earnest.]


2b) The Long March | monsters and elements
[This is not the same ecosystem they left behind. This is something worse. The creatures he tried to befriend earlier are gone. There are horrors in their wake.]

[Horrors someone has to fight, for the people who can't.]

[Movements might be slowed by travel fatigue and healing injury, but he's still going to stand his ground for others. Fighting with his arm alight, as usual. Though, now, it sputters, flickering like a dying star, instead of a sun.]

Get clear! Back to the others!



3) The Moira
Spread out. Shout if you find anything.

[He's not as attached to the ship as some people. As others who were there longer. It's resources -- maybe there's a shuttle that survived the crash. Or a distress beacon. Maybe there's supplies to make a distress beacon.]

[Shiro will join in, absolutely. But he's going to sit down, first. Sit down and grimace. Breathing for just a minute. This was the last hope, right? The last chance. But the ship is dark and quiet. And hope seems like it's fading with the ship's old lights.]

4) wildcard
[Anything goes!]

3

[a_shadow]

[ Tex shakes her head at his command, concerned about his pallor. ]

Are you sure we should separate? You look tired.

Nihlus Kryik | Mass Effect | OTA

[beautifulspaceraptor]

A. Lying Liars that Lie - OTA

Nihlus attends the meeting.

He exchanges pleasantries, makes nice with the Savrites, promises that he will do everything he could in his power to repair the rift between their groups.

And then comes home and starts throwing everything he could into the pacdisks. He sends every emergency contact on his list a warning to do the same.

He’d already been accumulating emergency supplies since his arrival here. Enough supplies for two Turians to endure five months on a strange planet or plane. Now he just needed everything else.

The condo was a mess to begin with. It looked like a hurricane had come through by the time Nihlus was done. He drops into his shop to nab some other supplies, notifies his customers of delays regarding the repairs of their equipment, recommending other vendors in the area and how to pick up their items while he was gone. They’d been loyal enough to stick with him after the shadows and it was the least he could do.

Allison’s milk plant is the last thing to be put into the disk.

When the time comes and he steps through the portal the vast, bleak landscape of the Midway Hub does little to surprise him.

Half an hour and a quick perimeter check later and he’s helping people set up temporary shelters and organizing supplies.

This was going to be a long and difficult trip. You need some help figuring out what you’re going to do there?


B. The Snipering - OTA

The thunderous 'CRACK' of a high powered rifle echoes over the landscape.

From his perch atop one of the many stone outcroppings litter across the Midway, Nihlus looks through his scope at the remnants of the mutated beast he’d just killed, the blood smeared over dark landscape.

No movement. Not that there was much left for moving considering the state of its head, but it never really hurt to double-check.

He’s been doing patrols around the encampment, keeping himself busy between distributing supplies and tracking down the occasional stray/lost explorer. Hunting had also put itself high on the list of priorities considering the sheer amount of dextro people who hadn’t had the chance or know-how to prepare themselves for the Savrites dumping them here.

The strange tooth-heads weren’t a particularly viable foodsource and he leaves them where they lay. The panthers on the other hand…

Sliding off of the outcropping, Nihlus’ boots hit the packed dirt with a hard ‘thump’. He shrugs the spool of rope further onto his shoulder before making his way towards the carcass.

Want to help him move some food?


C. Back to Square One. Again. - OTA

The Moira’s burnt out carcass is a simultaneously loathed and welcome sight.

Nihlus is already deep within its guts barely an hour into their arrival.

He finds the old fabricator in the ruins of the cargo bay. Starts dismantling it and pulling it out of the wreckage one piece at a time. Some parts were unsalvageable: the rendering base, the frame. But those were easy to replace with a whole carcass of a ship to work with.

Everything else worked just fine after a bit cleaning, soldering and a maintenance check.

The main issue, of course, is going to be power.

But that will have to wait until he’s pieced everything together first. Anyone down for a science project?

Take Me Underground - Closed to Rinzler

[beautifulspaceraptor]

Ending up in the caverns hadn’t been intentional on Nihlus’ part.

Out of the pack of five tooth-faces that’d wandered close enough to the encampment to potentially cause trouble, Nihlus had picked all of them off...

Except for the one lone survivor that’d ducked into depths before he could headshot them.

Still too damn close. Still a potential danger if it emerges from any of the other entrances. The Spectre slips off of his perch and takes off after it, hailing Shepard with a quick location marker in case his communications were cut off by the rock.

Folding the rifle away, he switches to the pistol instead and ducks in after it.

The caves are about as friendly as he’d remembered them.

Prowling through the winding paths, armor lit by bioluminescence and trickling, green streams, Nihlus carefully pushes deeper in. Listening. Watching. Following the tracks the creature had left behind, disturbed dust, glowing prints.

He hears movement to his left and spins around, pistol snapping up-

It's a familiar shape in sights however.

"Hellish deeps, Rinzler."

COMMANDER SHEPARD ★ ota!

[squadgoals]

1. LONG AND WINDING ROAD

[Shepard is rarely seen, and heard even less. But those who know what to look for may notice an old familiar vehicle picking its way across the blasted landscape, imitating its last trip in the opposite direction. In stops occasionally, picking people up when flagged down, and assisting people when they seem like they can't, or won't, walk further. The only figure climbing in or out, however, is dressed in a full-body hardsuit, helmet securely on.

In the event that you are stumbling, falling, or just thumbing a ride, the vehicle stops, and a wing door opens. The driver assists the party where necessary, offering only:]

Let me know what I can help with. I have food and water if you need them.

[The voice is quiet, but steady, assured.]

2. RIDERS ON THE STORM

[There's no exposure to the storms inside the Mako, helmet off, dozing in the driver's seat until it passes, listening to the scrape and scream of energy-shaken sand and rock on metal its metal hull. It's loud, it's incredible — like a dying voice, the wail of a banshee, disintegrating away in another universe.

But after a while, the sound abates. Smooths out, softens — and finally, disappears.

But when she opens her eyes, everything outside is the same.

The world on mute.

Disbelief coloring her features, she opens the door, stumbling out into the final throes of the energy storm, staring around at the noiseless noise, confusion and creeping realization writ large on her face.

Should anyone chance to be nearby, or in the vehicle itself, she would not hear them approach.]

3. BORN TO BE WILD

[When people do set up camp, there is usually a tent further out than most, slightly separated from the rest.

With no cycles of days, only the dim Hub light, it's easy to see the helmeted figure in the distance pacing, patrolling the boundaries of the camp — and essentially facing off with encroaching or attacking wildlife in one-on-one — and sometimes, two, or three-on-one — battles. Panthers, and stranger hunting beasts alike, the lone figure never seems to struggle overmuch — but at the offer of assistance, they nod their head.

Even if not assisted, they can be seen later, silently butchering the animals — helmet still in place. Hungry?]

4. WORN OUT SPACES

[The Moira. She walks in with the rest of the crew, tracing back through the cabins, until she finds the mess — or, at least, following the glass incident its storage. For a while, she scavenges through the remains of kitchen supplies, moving anything salvageable into a pacdisk. There's not much — they did, after all, do this when they left, as well.

Bit by bit, she works her way through the ship, or at least the parts they can access for the time being. From the old aquariums from The Collectives, she salvages the VI filter equipment. From the rec room, bits and pieces from exercise machines, broad-screen viewers.

For a while, she stops by her old room, opening and closing drawers, brushing dust and grime off the strange egg bed she used to call her own.

And later, when all has been scoured, sitting on the old observation deck, watching the storming sky through the spiderweb of fractured windows.

Whether it's to talk nostalgia, or help her scavenge, you'll have to get her attention, first.]

5. W I L D

[Anything outside this, or even a combination, is totally chill. Hit me up on PM or nijikai if you want to hash out anything in particular!]

2. RIDERS ON THE STORM

[beautifulspaceraptor]

[ Nihlus had hunkered down in the Mako for the duration of the storm. Unlike Shepard however, he keeps his helmet on, noise cancelers up. Sensitive hearing didn't mesh well with the deafening explosions of thunder and he rather take the down time to rest considering there wasn't really anything else TO do once weapons maintenance had been completed.

It's only when his proximity sensors ping him about Shepard moving out that he snaps awake. For a moment, he watches her stumble out blearily in confusion. Something ominous settles in his gut has him pushing up onto his feet, careful not to disturb the other passengers, before sliding out the open door. He drops the noise cancelling before calling out. ]

Shepard?

[ No response. Her back was to him, watching the last of the storm fade away.

Nihlus moves closer, reaching out to touch her shoulder. ]

Jane?

Zer0 | OTA

[gh0stamidstthec0mbat]

[Arrival: The Bullshittening]

[Zer0 had expected the Savrii to take some sort of action against the new arrivals. He just had a feeling. After some people had decided to dick around with the ingress, after all that sketchy business with the contaminant, the murder shadows, the general non-compliant attitude of the new arrivals, he knew.

He hadn't attended the meeting, half because he thought the Savrii were full of shit, half because the idea of gathering fruit and shit just sounded dull as hell, and half because he had a dumb leather ninja outfit to patch up and injuries to recover from (yes that's three halves he was 150% not into going), but that hadn't stopped some asshole from dropping in and somehow convincing him to tag along anyway.

And now, here they were, and Zer0 wasn't even remotely surprised. Annoyed and pissed at himself for agreeing to this bullshit for some reason, but not at all surprised. On the plus side, he'd brought most of his weapons and as much ammo as he could carry, but man, fuck this.]

We have been deceived. / They better pray we're stuck here. / Vengeance will be swift.

[He's a bit cranky.]



[Hunting: The Shooting Shittening]

[Ever alert, it doesn't take Zer0 long to realize that they're being tracked. He's more than happy to have something to take his pent up aggression out on, and he knows they could all use the meat anyway. It's a win/win sort of situation.

Finding a good sniper perch isn't too difficult, climbing up the sheer surface of one of the tall rock formations with all of his gear is more challenging, but he manages just fine. He's out in the open, and escaping a sudden storm would be tricky, but he's able to spot any incoming critters long before they'd have a chance to attack any unsuspecting victims.

Before long, he's racked up quite the collection of dead creatures, and pings the TAB network with locations of fresh meat, scattered about in all directions around his perch. He's blown quite a few heads off of some monster things that had been sneaking up on folks as well, because he's nice that way. Apologies to anyone now splattered with monster blood.]



[Storms: The Why The Fuck Is This Happening-ening]

[His knack for finding good sniping perches does indeed come back around to bite him in the ass later, because we can't have nice things. By now he knows all the signs, he can tell when a storm is coming, and up until now, has managed to avoid being caught in one.

This time, however, the patterns he'd gotten used to are off. It comes on too fast for him to avoid, and he's only managed to climb about half way down the rock formation. The rest of his decent is less than graceful, Zer0 scrambling to climb down faster and falling the last few feet. Thankfully, his landing isn't as bad as it could be and he's able to make it to the nearby cave (that everyone with more sense than him had already taken cover in) in one piece.

He freezes in place just past the cave's entrance, suddenly unable to see anything that was just in front of him. Either the weird glowing cave walls all went out at the same time for some reason, someone had smeared his helmet with paint or something, or something was very, very wrong with the sniper's vision. And what good is a sniper that can't snipe things?

He manages to feel his way over to a cave wall and move further inside away from the storm, but that's about all he's got going for him right now.]

Is anyone there?

[Just judging by his tone of voice, he doesn't seem overly concerned with his current predicament. but yyyeah he's pretty concerned.]

Storms

[a_shadow]

[ Tex sees the sniper headed into the cave, and right away she's concerned. It seems like an inadequate place to hide from these storms, for those who aren't protected by body armor like she is. He has some kind of helmet on, but something tells her he wouldn't be headed in there if he didn't feel he needed the cover.

So she catches up, coming alongside behind, just in time to hear him call out. ]

I'm here. Behind you.

Nathan Drake | Uncharted | OTA

[sketchycharacter]

hitting the road;

[Nate doesn't know what he expected when he walked through the Ingress. Maybe that the Savrii weren't going to be complete fucking assholes, or at least that they'd get the chance to bring extra snacks before getting dumped here. He for sure didn't expect to end up back on the Midway Hub, only it's like a horrible hellscape version of the Midway Hub.

He spends a long time just staring out at the landscape.]

Shit.

[From then on, he does what he has to. Checks in on friends and acquaintances, helps out those who've lost their sight or hearing or something to the storms (and fuck, fuck, who knew that could even happen), does whatever is needed to keep everyone alive despite his growing sense of despair.]

wild life;

[The panthers are horrible monster versions of what would be fairly intimidating predators to start with, and not only that, they're surprisingly stealthy horrible monster panthers when they want to be. Nate's doing a sweep of the group's perimeter, looking out for any threats, when there's a too-close snarl and he just knows that this is it—except his trusty robot dog Barkley flies across the landscape in a blur and launches himself at the animal. Nate fires a couple of bullets into the thing, but really, it was all over once Barkley got it by the throat.]

Good boy.

[He pats his robopal, activating the sensors behind its ears. Barkley's been strangely subdued since they arrived, but it's good to know the instincts that Isha programmed into him still work.]

Sorry, no snacks.

[At the sound of someone approaching, Nate looks up and cracks a crooked smile.]

Hey, you don't happen to have any scooby snacks, do you?

old familiar places;

[Just like when they arrived on this shitty planet, Nate spends a long time just looking at the Moira. He never expected to see it again, and if he did...he wouldn't have expected it to be like this.

He doesn't know what to feel about it. Because he's still himself, even here, curiosity and the need to discovery drive him to explore its shattered depths, as much as the need for shelter. Nate can't even recognize a lot of the passages until he twists his head to absurd angles to see what the original orientation was, but other parts he knows immediately, and there's a twinge in his chest when it happens. This place was never home, but it meant something.

In the end, he finds himself at the observation deck. The sight of the storms outside make him wish he could get wasted there again. If anyone else is there or arrives, he'll give them a little wave.]

So, we can get this thing flying again, right? A little work, a new coat of paint...

wild card;

[Choose your own adventure.]

wild ass

[brokeassgoing]

[The approaching sound is actually Badou rising from his crouched, ass up face down position, hiding from those panthers. Also he's trying to look cool but there's definitely soil all over him, on his face, all of it.]

I'd be snacking on 'em if I did. Does this thing help you do the Indiana Jones thing?

[neverheardofhim]

i. Arrival

[When Varric first arrived in this hellish universe, he was greeted by the sort of chaos that came from a marooned ship in an unforgiving world. Those memories came rushing back to him as he stared out into the bleak hellscape.]

Ah, shit.

[The expletives continued as he kicked at the dirt and rock around him. It was obvious that this had been a ploy, a way of isolating a group of people that had been just as victimized by their circumstances as the Savrites. Once and only once had the former Moirans (a title that seemed all the more fitting as they ambled about the bleak, storm flecked world) acted maliciously as a relative whole. The rest of the time, though their individual numbers made mistakes, they had done their best to live in peace.

If Anders were there, he would point out how ironic it their situation was. It'd devolve into a tirade about mages, at which point Varric would throw his hands up and walk away.

Of course, he recalled with a troubled frown that they had fought about similar things the last time they were here. Now, Anders had disappeared, just as a great many of his other friends had.]

Shit [Varric let out a low sigh, then shook his head.] Andraste take this blighted place.

ii. Storm Front

[The storm had been a magnificent one, if troubling in its sheer power. Varric found himself describing it in his mind, mapping out the way he might describe it in a book. It was the same way he had passed his time back on their first trip, writing out an imaginary book and lamenting his lack of paper and a pencil.

Now, he felt the weight of an unlimited ink pen in his pocket and sighed.

A nearby sound alerted Varric to another presence, and he turned. His mouth opened, greeting on his tongue. His lips moved, but no sound out. He tried again, but heard only the whistle of air passing through his lips. Annoyance flashed over his face, and he looked at his new-found companion with an expression of irritation.

Clearly, it's your fault.]

Wildcard

Hit me up at ashstriferous to plot something else if you'd like!

i

[foins]

[Even as distressing as the situation is, she feels a sense of relief knowing that the little man is here, even if here seems to be the end of all worlds. She comes alongside his grousing shuffle and keeps pace with him.]

I do not know how the universe could do without your funny little jokes.

[Funny obviously in her sense of funny, being odd and not actually hilarious.]

Hawke | Dragon Age | OTA

[otiosity]

Storm front

[Hawke is walking along side her dog, Kitty who is as massive and cheerful and ever and doesn't seem to really be sad he got kicked out of his normal life. Except Hawke is gripping his collar and letting him lead her forward, moving awkwardly and keeping one arm out in front of her. Then she steps in a hole and pitches forward onto the ground. When she picks herself up, there's scrapes on her legs and arms, enough that its clear this wasn't the first time she'd hit the ground roughly. It doesn't take a genius to figure out she's blind.

With a groan, she picks herself up to her knees and then groans again when Kitty turns around to lick her face.]

You're supposed to bark before I step on uneven ground! We've talked about this!

[The dog barks and wags his tail.]

Well, it's no good now that I've already found it! Before is still the key word. [She gets to her feet and looks around out of habit even though she won't see a damn thing.] Where's Dum-E? He's supposed to be your back up.

[And as she takes a cautious step forward, she collides with a funny looking robot with a loud THUNK. Rubbing her arm, she scowls in their direction.]

You two are both fired.

[She might... need some competent help here.]

Old familiar places

[First the storm stole her eyesight. Then it gave it back only to steal her voice. Probably because she was going to be spending too long complaining about how it was terrible to be blind and no one wanted to hear it.

Whatever, they were good complaints!

For a long moment she just stares at the Moira, as if she's not sure that she can actually trust it. She doesn't trust it. But watching and waiting is worse than just throwing herself into the labyrinth and so she goes. The place is dusty and makes her cough and sneeze silently but otherwise its surprisingly intact.

Enough intact that starts walking the familiar path to the engine room. Or at least the she tries to. She keeps finding herself turn around and disoriented but this is the way. She knows this is the way.

So when you encounter her you might find her silently shouting at a sign that indicates the direction of the engine room. Behind her there are massive burn marks on the wall marking a trail through the hallways. And there's multiple ones but all of them seem to lead in a circle.

No wonder she's cross.]

Old Familiar Shitholes

[squadgoals]

[Ironically, and surely adding to the frustration, is Shepard, walking up the route the sign indicates is the engine room.

She stops at the furious sight, attempting to read anything that's being yelled, and gives up wholesale. It's clearly not any language she's familiar with, so she can only imagine the tone and words of what she's missing. Loud, no doubt.

When Hawke eventually calms down enough to notice her appearance, she gives a little wave. Yes hello, long time no see, we're back to square fucking one.]

Matthew Lynch | ota

[dreamkid]

I. ARRIVAL; closed to Daisy

This doesn't look right, [ are the first words out of Matthew's mouth when they arrives on the planet, and even that brilliant observation only comes after a full minute of uncertain staring at the landscape. He's easily confused as a rule; add to that the shock of the last few days (which, as Daisy knows, have been utterly terrible for him), and. Well. This is what you get. He only barely knows how to be suspicious, so it doesn't even cross his mind that this planet mix-up might have been deliberate. ]

Should we go back?

II. HITTING THE ROAD, WITH PANTHERS

[ Things get worse the first time the panthers show up. Some people, braver people, choose to fight them, but Matthew has never boxed a zombie panther before and all he wants to do is get away. In the chaos, he falls once, scrambles back to his feet, and keeps running until the snarls and shouts are behind him. His breathing is shallow and frightened as he slows down, looking finally to his left and his right and realizing-- he doesn't see Daisy. Oh no. ]

Daisy?

[ Oh no. He swallows, stops entirely, and turns to look over his shoulder. Should he go back? Oh god he doesn't want to go back. He doesn't even feel safe where he is now. ]

III. THE CAVES

[ Matthew doesn't go straight for the water when they arrive at the caves (though he is quite thirsty after all the walking he's been doing), but instead chooses to have a look around first. The light in this place may be dimmer than it used to be, but he's never been here before and what's left still inspires a sense of wonder in him. It reminds him, with some accompanying tightness in his chest, of something Ronan might dream, and Matthew wanders through the cavern slowly, his curly head turned upward. Only through dumb luck does he manage not to trip over his own feet, because he's not looking where they're going. ]

IV. THE MOIRA

[ The ship is massive, much more so than Matthew could have even comprehended when he first saw it on the horizon. After the initial sighting it took them, well, days, he supposes, to reach the site of the wreck. At first he was content to hunker down inside one of the large sections of ship and take shelter from the storm, close his eyes and try to rest.

Then he started to notice others engaging in a seemingly more productive activity. Matthew is not quick, so it took him a little bit of time to figure out what was going on, and that they were scavenging the ship for anything useful.

Well, he can help with that. He can make himself useful. It's almost like a treasure hunt, right? So he starts to search as well, picking his way through the rooms and hallways. At one point, he plucks a can opener off the floor, blows some dust off of it, and asks the person closest to him-- ]

We could use this for something, right?

[ Opening cans, would be the obvious answer. Look, he's trying his best. ]

V. WILDCARD! hit me up at mieru_mienai if you like!

HITTING THE ROAD, WITH PANTHERS

[carltoaction]

[Walkers (read: zombies) were one thing, but zombie panthers were another. For one thing they were faster, fangier, and sure as hell tougher. But the thing is Carl learned a long time ago how to swallow his fear for sake of his survival and doing what was right for the people that were part of his group at any given time. And right now that was this group of people abandoned, even kicked out from their new home. Right now it meant that the people he came across counted too.

Running towards the roar of a distant panther, Carl comes only a few feet to crashing into the other boy before he actually sees him there. Kind of the down side of having one eye if you ask him. The bandage that is normally there was gone, torn away from his face a few hours ago when they got too ragged. All that covered that side of his face now were the wind swept bangs of his. Stopping just short of Matthew though, his good eye strained to stare at him and get a good look at what or whom he was facing. The uncertain voice that calls out an unfamiliar name only confirms to him first that what he is facing his human. Thank goodness.

Closing the gap between them, Carl cants his head to the side a little, lowering both the weapons in his hand: a gun in his dominate and a machete in his non-dominate, making him appear clumsy. He remembers Matthew from before just a little bit and doesn't want to scare him exactly.]

Are you running from something close by? [He asks with his guard still very much up. His ears listen for sounds in place of how much his eye could see right away.]

ota!

[worn_wings]

i. i took a wrong turn

[ Though he doesn't particularly want to leave, even temporarily, the Savrii make some good points about helping out and-- honestly-- he knows they're not really pulling their weight. Not with the bulk of their crops ruined by the weather. Even giving up their whole harvest wouldn't really cover the rent.

If they want to make this place work it seems like going is the best option, even if he still doesn't trust the Ingress after that mess on the Asteroid, so they pack up supplies and-- well, anything it seems better not to leave--

And they end up here.

As soon as the surprise wears off he throws himself into trying to help anyone who's looking for a way back, with a side of swearing profusely under his breath. ]

ii. they keep walking

[ There's no good reason to stay, if there's no chance of raising an Ingress portal here, and once someone suggests a direction-- well, why the hell not? Getting moving puts him in better spirits at first, but the going is tougher this time-- less food, less shelter.

Early on he tries to get ahead of it-- splitting off from the main group any time he sees something that looks promising, grabbing anyone who looks like they might be able to lend a hand with either hunting or gathering-- figuring it'll be easier now, before they get worn down from half-starved marching.

Of course, this time around, most of what's out there isn't exactly prey... ]

iii. i followed it down

[ wildcard option / TBD as stuff progresses. hit me up with whatever you like! ]

ii

[notglitching]

[Rinzler doesn't need an invitation to hunt threats—has, in fact, been venturing out on his own already to delete them. Still, any user who claims to the location of a group can claim his attention for the moment. Rinzler's own scans shut off yesterday.

It's a basic exchange. Data for aid. It does nothing to explain the nagging familiarity of visuals as he follows towards the supposed targets. Is it the user's face? His frame? Rinzler might have passed this user in the halls, but doesn't remember any interactions of note. It's irritating, and he can't find the right parameters for search.]

Agent Texas ⋆ OTA ⋆ Will match format

[a_shadow]

⋆ ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Having had an initial meeting with those from her own world not long after arriving here, Tex is determined mainly to keep tabs on her boyfriend to make sure he's safe, and to keep to herself rather than try to take charge of any particular efforts. She's discomfited that she's been tricked into arriving here, and feels it's best for everyone to pull together as equals to make it through.

Once someone has identified the signal where they all decide to begin heading, Tex begins keeping tabs on everyone she can. The landscape surrounding them is bleak. There seems to be little that they can rely on to help them through, other than those things they brought with them. Thankfully, she had been preparing for an extended mission and had brought the camping supplies that the captains of the Moira had supplied, a long time ago. Not everyone had been similarly prepared, however, and Tex knows that those who aren't wearing armor similar to what she has the fortune of being protected by are vulnerable to the storms. She tries to plan ahead when it seems a storm will be striking particularly severely, setting the pop-up tent up and offering shelter to at least 2 or 3.

"Do you have somewhere to sleep?" she'll ask someone nearby, and if the answer is no, she'll give them the opportunity to enter and rest while the storms rage. She can easily sleep in her armor outside.

⋆ SUSTENANCE

It's not lost on her that she's not eating enough. She tracks and hunts, but often offers the spoils to others to consume. It's also not lost on her, however, that she's surviving the hunger, even if it means being lethargic. She feels like an empty well, one that has been drained of all its water from beneath. It's a strange feeling, to know one is being sustained from some outward source. As they near the hull of the Moira, Tex begins to consume less and less, offering more and more portions to others. This is different from their last foray to this place—not everyone is adequately prepared.

"Are you hungry?" she says, offering a camp pot full of meat stew. "It's a little stringy, sorry about that."

⋆ FEELS LIKE HOME

Tex enters the ship with a sense of dread. This hull is more intact than she remembers. The sections inside, likewise. She wanders the halls, looking for some of her old haunts—the shooting range, the bar, the room she last shared with Ryuuzaki, before they were even calling it cohabitation. But nothing quite seems the same. In fact, the further she goes in, the less anything about the layout seems to make sense.

"I don't think this is the Moira," she finally pronounces to whoever is near.

Feels like Home

[notglitching]

Well before coming to this place, Rinzler was made to run on minimal power. Tested and corrected, modified to be efficient. To cut back. Cognition and improvisation, awareness and memory—all expendable under sufficient drain. Rinzler is a weapon, after all. He only needs to work enough to kill and to obey.

He doesn't want that. He never does, but especially not here, with other allies than just Clu to guard. Nihlus offers some charge from his prosthetic arm. Yori shares her battery reserves, and even persuades Rinzler to accept a few. Still, every step and point of contact with the spongy, wasted ground is pressing higher functions closer to shutdown. When the Moira's wreckage appears ahead, Rinzler doesn't wait to search.

That's where Tex will find him: in a hall off Engineering, prying open an electrical panel. This region of the ship is at a solid ninety degrees to standard orientation, but the bulky shape of a backup generator can be seen wedged further back under debris. He stiffens at the commentary—he hadn't heard Tex coming, and scans have been dead since the storms. Which has made searching out power access somewhat harder.

He won't stop working, but he does shift sideways, half-facing the user and with his back to the wall. The opaque mask turns slightly.

Why?

[notyetsore]

A - Arrival/Traveling

...Of course.

Of course the Savrii didn’t actually want their help - didn’t want them.

When they come through the Ingress, as the situation sinks in, Ginko hardly reacts. Part of him wants to cry, or maybe even get mad, but-- he can’t, really.

He shouldn’t have let himself expect anything different.

As the group starts to make its way across the land, he sticks to the edges of the crowd, often wandering off some distance by himself when they stop, apparently to examine the remains of the Ingresses or the twisted corpses around them. If he’s considered the risks of straying away from the others, he sure doesn’t seem to be acting like it.

...In fact, even as time passes, and everyone starts to weaken, he doesn’t seem too outwardly concerned.

B - Storms

Even with Ginko being as good as he is at losing himself in his own thoughts, actual distractions are more than welcome - and that includes the storms. They should be terrifying, should send fear racing through his chest. Sometimes he thinks they might, but it’s a strangely distant feeling, like an echo of fear.

The actual fear doesn’t set in until his vision, already limited by his missing eye, fades entirely to… not even black. Nothing.

As it happens, the last time he was on the Midway Hub, when his night vision was sapped away, was the first time Ginko found himself unable to see. But that wasn’t like this - it was nowhere near as complete, as thorough. Suddenly, every sound seems like it could be a threat, he can’t figure out where he is or where to go, he can’t--

Even when trying to travel, keeping up with the group as best he can by sound, Ginko is pulled in on himself, shoulders hunched and hands clutching his upper arms. He doesn’t vocalize any complaint, even when he stumbles over uneven ground, but everything about him is tense and shaking, his one sightless eye locked on the ground.

C - Wildcard

(( OOC: Throw something else at me, or plot something out at omixgirl10 ))

B

[gainedlove]

Frisk isn't sure where they've gotten to. With how they've kept to the edges of the traveling mob they don't have as much to judge distance or direction by. Everything is dark, darker, yet darker, but the rumbling of the crowd edges ever closer. Stumbling and trying to pick up their pace, Frisk holds tightly onto their pack and tries to ignore the approaching crowd, they just have to get faster, just have to--

They hit a rock, and fall with an involuntary cry. It doesn't even hurt that much, hitting the ground; just a scrape to their chin and arm, nothing that even ticks down an HP. But it slows them, and they start pushing themself up with a small whimper of frustration.

charles xavier | xmcu | ota (unless marked)

[welcomeprofessor]

ｉｔ＇ｓ ｎｏｔ ｆａｒ ｄｏｗｎ ｔｏ ｐａｒａｄｉｓｅ
[ For the first short while after realizing the reality of this destination does not remotely match the objective that had been given under such a seemingly conciliatory guise, the travels across the barren landscape move on with little incident. It's rough and slow-going, made worse by the lack of proper preparation.

You're too trusting to have agreed to this. He knows he's bound to hear it at least once. From someone either than himself. And perhaps he had been. Too trusting, too lulled into a sense of relative security and some kind of tentative contentment. It's a sentiment already eating at him as they cross every inch of this terrain.

Time passes in relative silence for much longer than Charles keeps track of. That is until there's a resounding pop and the immediate jolting of his wheelchair as one of the back tires blows out. Because of course it does. ]

Oh, for the love of--


ｉｆ ｔｈｅ ｗｉｎｄ ｉｓ ｒｉｇｈｔ ｙｏｕ ｃａｎ ｓａｉｌ ａｗａｙ
[ Progress gets even slower when he can no longer rely on the motorized chair to help traverse the barren land of the Midway Hub, and instead has to rely on assistance to move anywhere. It's sobering and more than a little humbling; he's never been one to enjoy relying on asking for help. The chair has made that difficult for a number of years, but at least that had a routine and a measure of independence. He'd never make it anywhere by crawling, and the acceptance is grudging and somewhat numbing.

Storms rage intermittently, making the trek even worse as if every few steps brings with it a new damned struggle. By the time they make it to the caves, Charles is exhausted, guilty for feeling exhausted when he's the result of any extra effort in this awful trip, and doubly exhausted in the acceptance of that guilt.

He leans back against the cave walls, the temporary shelter providing something of a refuge, and yet still finds himself glancing around quickly, eyes darting as if he expects yet another threat to emerge. He feels nothing, for the moment, and glances to his companion with a sigh. ]

Sit, please. You must feel worse than I do.


ｎｏｔ ｆａｒ ｔｏ ｎｅｖｅｒ－ｎｅｖｅｒｌａｎｄ， ｎｏ ｒｅａｓｏｎ ｔｏ ｐｒｅｔｅｎｄ (closed to seeingscaret)
[ He's been watching her during this journey for some time now. His concern only continues to increase as they progress; he doesn't need any ability to take note of how drained she looks--how drained they all feel right now, really--but there's a level of vague projection here that only confirms the worry. ]

Wanda. Wanda.

[ The intensity in the intonation only grows; it's too easy to zone out here, and he wants to make sure she notices. He couples this with a gentle reach outward. ]

How are you doing?

[ He knows the basic answer is "not great." No one could claim otherwise, for themselves nor anyone else. But something feels off beyond this. ]


ａｌｌ ｃａｕｇｈｔ ｕｐ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｅｖｅｒｉｅ (closed to specifications)
[ Truthfully, there has been little time (and alternately far too much of it) to spend wholly concentrated on the issue at the forefront of Charles' mind before this awful, tiring adventure had begun. Easier had been finding excuses not to confront it. The well-being of his kids, the journey itself, and even that gnawing ache of hunger that still hasn't quite abated.

He's only vaguely aware of what this ship is, and what this means to anyone who's been here long enough to have seen it when it was less of a literal wreck, but it's proper shelter, and that will have to do for now. The unfortunate side of this sanctuary, however, is how close the quarters are, especially with some of the rooms inaccessible, or parts of the ship itself in too-literal disrepair to find any continued use in. It makes it far more difficult to avoid anyone or anything, and true to form and his recent string of luck, that very much includes Arthur.

Charles is still unable to move too far without obvious, literal assistance otherwise, the chair long abandoned to the terrain and the storms countless miles back as the terrain had only continued to make it less and less feasible to use. He finds himself in something that he assumes must have once been some kind of large gathering area. A cafeteria, maybe. A library, if he gives up the idea of that archive being physical and tangible, but he's not entirely certain in either direction. The whole ship, for an abandoned wreck, has taken on the traits of the land it had ended its life on: it's empty and eerie and devoid of much help beyond providing shelter from the storms still raging loudly outside.

It's here that he finds Arthur passing through. He thinks, for a moment, to not say anything at all and let this continue in its awkward silence and upset, but if this is where it ends--where it might end--he can't let this fight end like this too. ]

Looking for something in particular?

[ It's an innocuous question on the surface. Better to start here than with the upset. ]

[a_shadow]

[ It's obviously not long after Charles's wheelchair breaks down that the responsibility for carrying him along is taken by those capable, passing him around as needed. Tex is sure that's utterly humiliating, but there's not much to be done about it. It's what's necessary, so when Charles is passed to her, she gathers him up bridal-style. The armor is biomechanical in nature, leading to increased strength, though she could never do in the armored suit what she had been capable of in her robot body. Still, it means carrying him isn't as strenuous as it might otherwise have been. So when she sets him down and he insists on her taking a break, she considers refusing. He ought to have something to eat, too. But after a pause, she assents. ]

I'll rest for a while. But I do think you've got the short end of the stick, here.

Taako + Lup | OTA

[chaoticlootral]

[ Prompts will be both Taako (chaoticlootral) and Lup (chaoticluptral)! Let us know if you’d prefer one-on-one with one or the other of the twins. ]

a. Camp cookin’

[ Having finally found shelter in whatever caves along the way, you might notice a rousing campfire going and the twins apparently hard at work crouched around it. Despite the fact that the nasty panther meat resists all attempts to make it actually tasty, whatever these two have managed to whip up actually smells good. That could be because of all the starving and wandering around without food for a while now, but still. Maybe these two are just extremely talented, if a little weird: Taako is standing behind Lup, hands on her head and tugging her one way or the other in some sort of strange instruction. They both seems extremely concentrated on this. ]

Listen, I’ve seen this work before in a documentary. You’ve just gotta let the, uh, spirit move you. And maybe don’t flail so much?

Taako, my man, don’t believe everything you see on TV. And if you try to spirit me again, I’m going to spirit slap you across your fucking face. Now hand me the salt. No not that one, not that one, to your left, no YOUR left. Yes, that one.

Thanks, bro. [This is all said casually, like this is how they talk to each other on the daily and she’s used to threatening with him with a spiritual slap. Taako simply responds by sticking his tongue out at her.

Taako might be blind right now, but he’s can still roll a decent perception check even with that disadvantage (I mean, he still has ears), and he pauses if anyone approaches, tapping Lup on the shoulder to get her attention. ]

Hey, no free lunches, my guy. Or whoever. No assumptions! You got anything to trade?

b. Looting Salvage at the Moira

[ Taako, still blinded, is doing his best to be . . . uh. Sort of? Helpful. Enough that he doesn’t feel entirely useless despite being dumb enough to have looked directly at a storm a few days (or however long has passed, since it’s difficult to tell). He’s digging around with just his hands and the end of his umbrella to look for anything useful, occasionally holding something up he thinks might be adequately interesting for inspection to Lup. Or the direction he thinks Lup is in. If you’re in the way, you might get some sort of junk shoved in your face instead. ]

I’ve got a good feeling about this one, for sure. Definitely this time, one dude’s trash, real elf treasure.

Lup | Closed

[chaoticlootral]

[ You know, splitting the party is definitely a leading cause of kickin' it uncool style, and he knows this, but still somehow agreed to head back when Magnus had suggested it. Out of spells, worse for wear and suffering from a brief yet devastating moment of stupidity where he'd looked directly into a storm and blinded himseld - it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

He'd managed to make it back, but now totally alone and pretty much defenseless, it isn't exactly the most tenable of situations. He's sitting - back to a wall, just in case - staff on his lap while he tries his best to take a rest. So he could maybe work on doing something instead of being useless.

He's raising the end of the Umbra Staff at whoever (or whatever) is approaching, or at least is making a sound around him. He may have fired off some Rays of Ice already at whatever noises have made him jumpy. This place sucks and is, fact, hot garbage. ]

Hey, password?

[ Assuming face-eating panthers can't say the password, and anyone else probably isn't really out to hurt him, this doesn't make a whole lot of sense. ]

Magnus Burnsides | OTA

[ruffboi]

[ARRIVAL]

[So, this is pretty fucked. Magnus only has a partial understanding of the events that have led them to this point, or exactly how or why to think things have gone wrong. All he knows is that this wasn't supposed to be a dangerous trip, and as a result, there are people here who really don't belong in a situation like this who might need help.]

a.

[He's not sure where to go, so he's looking around for anyone who seems like they have a direction in mind, or an idea of what's going on. He's shouldering as many supplies as he can, but he'll stop and speak to someone like that if he catches their eye.]

What're you thinking? We need to get people to shelter, right?

b.

[Otherwise, he's looking out in particular for anyone who seems small, or out of their element, or doesn't have weapons on them, but mainly trying to get a sense of who all is here. He'll speak to a larger group, once he sees them start to gather - ]

We're going to work together and find somewhere safe, okay? If any of you need help walking or defending yourselves, you stick with the people who can. You don't know who that is, come to me. I can hunt, I can fight, I can carry people if necessary.

[HITTING THE ROAD]

[Once they're on the road, Magnus, true to his word, will refrain from getting too far away from any of the groups of people trying to walk. He makes it his daily habit to scout ahead for anywhere safe to shelter in, and then to work his way back, helping any stragglers and fighting off any dangerous creatures that get too close to the group.]

a.

[You encounter Magnus when your group is being attacked by panthers or by fanged creatures. Call for help, and Magnus rushes in, ready to provide backup if you're already fighting, or defend you if you can't defend yourself.]

These things are nasty! Watch it!

[He's likely already pretty well covered in blood and guts, and his axe and shield are dusty and blood splattered as well, so he likely knows what he's talking about.]

b.

[Later in the day, as groups of travelers are resting for the evening, Magnus will go around looking for any groups that don't seem like they have enough to eat; he's dragged a few panther corpses back from the fight earlier, and will hack off a bit of meat to share with anyone who seems like they need it.]

Sorry, just warning you, they're really gross.

CLOSED TO TAAKO

[ruffboi]

[As time passes, all of these fights in addition to the general sapping of energy starts to take its toll on Magnus. He's taken a few nasty injuries here and there, mainly jaw marks or wounds that healed up badly, but more than the wounds, it's that he's become fairly exhausted with all of this effort.

So, when he and Taako discover the caves, which look like they have some strange glowing water in them, he's thirsty enough to try it out. Magnus being Magnus, he just reaches down, fills his hands with water, and drinks.]

Not poison!

various and sundry closed starters

[lavelly]

> J

[lavelly]

[It had taken surprisingly little willpower to just turn and walk away from the rest of the wanderers. He can't see where he's going, of course, but that hardly matters; after all, the point is get lost in a very permanent sense. The only thing he's worried about is tripping over something.

There's a strange peace in the decision. It's almost uplifting, even. He feels like he's finally made the right choice, the best choice; if only he could have done it earlier. But that doesn't matter now. Better late than never.

But then it happens: he hears voices, and then, the closer he gets, the more he recognizes the familiar chatter of the other refugees, organizing groups and distributing supplies.

Had he gotten turned around somehow? He'd thought he'd been walking straight, but... there's no other explanation.

So he makes an about face and tries again.

And the same thing happens.

He makes several more tries, and each time, he finds his way back to the group. Each time he gets more desperate, more hysterical, until he finally collapses against the ruin of a tree and folds into himself, pulling up his knees.

All he wants to do is stop inflicting his existence on the people around him and this gods-forsaken place won't even let him do that.

So fine. If he can't walk away, he'll just stay here and let the others walk away for him. He'll stay until he starves, or just wastes away from exposure. Until he goes mad from isolation. It doesn't matter. As long as he can finally stop.]

76 | ota

[mylawn]

i. hit the road

[76 would be lying if he said he didn’t expect this on some level. Maybe not this, exactly, but he and Ana have been prepared with bug-out bags since they arrived on Thisavrou, waiting for the other shoe to drop and preparing for the worst. This is that other shoe, and for once he’s honestly not quite sure where to go from here.

All there is to be done, however, is press onward, and if 76 knows how to do anything, it’s handle himself in a situation like this. He takes it upon himself to walk the periphery of the caravan, toting that giant gun and generally keeping an eye out for anything that might impede the journey. The state of the Midway Hub is mostly how he remembers it, except somehow more terrible, and he’s most easily found doing the following: 

>> Carrying heavy things. Really heavy things. Maybe for you? He might not even ask you if you’re having trouble before he lifts it, because there’s not any time to waste and you’re slowing us down, come on. This guy is weirdly strong? 
>> Patrolling with a gun that’s basically half the size of his own body. See: lifting heavy things.
>> Taking watch shifts at stupid hours when any normal person should be asleep.
>> Running off to fight monsters, probably. Saving you from one?]

ii. camping interlude

[There’s no telling how long they’re going to be stuck here—or if there’s even a way out, so eventually he ends up camped out when the group needs to rest. He alternates between standing watch with his bigass gun, then busying himself with inventory and preparations. He only has so many supplies, and he’s acutely aware that there’s only so much he can do to make it last. Still, he’s not about to turn away anyone that might need something, if he can spare it. You just have to approach DadFort, first.

> Approach DadFort y/n?]

iii. old familiar places

[This is, of course, a sight 76 thought he’d never see again. Despite his mixed feelings about the ship itself, it’s likely their best shot to get off the Midway Hub, and with the increased presence of the storms (something that 76 is not at all keen to expose himself to), it seems they have little choice but to take refuge in the wreckage of the ship.

Some parts are easier to navigate than others, and of course 76 is taking it upon himself to explore as much as he can, in the event there are still supplies—or, even better, the functioning Ingress.]

You shouldn’t go in there by yourself.

[Doesn’t matter who you are, really—apparently this guy knows better than you. The buddy system is always advisable.]

wildcard

[I’ll do whatever the heck you want. Hit me up on plurk at whitticus]

i (am so glad you asked for some flattering fieldtrip and this is it)

[brokeassgoing]

[76 doesn't ask for much; not when everything's gone to shit, not when they're kind of doomed, and trying.

What he doesn't ask for especially is Badou stumbling up to take a wizz at the asscrack of dawn, right in the middle of the soldier's patrol. Blinking blearily at the other man, all is calm for about two seconds]

ARE YOU SHITTING MEEEEEEE! YOU AIN'T THE PHANTOM OF THE PISSPRA!

Alan Bradley | OTA

[alan_1]

i. you’re hearing damage [post-storm front]
[The first time Alan had been on the Midway Hub, the planet had been dangerous. With wild animals stalking them and a shortage of resources to survive on, the possibility of mass death had weighed heavy on everyone’s minds.

Now, the animals are more vicious, they have fewer resources, and there are the storms. They’re like nothing Alan’s ever experienced before, massive clouds of energy that blacken the sky and thunderclaps that sound like a gunshot against his head. When they descend, they send the whole group scattering for cover.

Which is how Alan ended up separated from the group and waiting out the storm in one of the many small caves that dot the landscape. He keeps his hands clamped over his ears to block out the worst of the thunder and tries not to be reminded of the last time he’d heard a similar sound, staring down a gun in the Moira laboratories.

It feels like hours before the storm finally wanes, the dying rumble of thunder replaced in an instant with an eerie silence. When that silence remains unbroken for another few minutes, Alan ventures out.

It’s just as unnaturally silent outside of the cave as it was inside. Alan looks around, bewildered at the sudden shift. When he speaks, it’s half to break the unnerving calm that seems to have descended on the planet.]

Hello—?

[The word is barely out of his mouth when his expression changes to one of alarm. He can’t hear himself. With growing panic, he realizes that he can’t hear anything.

That means if you're approaching him, he won’t hear you either.]

ii. how far we’ve come [old familiar places]
[He sees the wreckage on the horizon earlier than most. Maybe it’s a result of several days spent relying mostly on his (admittedly imperfect) sense of sight. Still, even he is surprised when they come close enough to recognize the shape for what it is.

It’s the Moira: the ship he’d called home for several months and where he had made some of the most important discoveries—and worst mistakes—of his life.

The reaction of the group is mixed. Not everyone was here for the Moira’s interstellar journey. Some are confused. Some solemn, some angry. Alan is surprised to find that he doesn’t feel that much sorrow seeing the wreck. He can’t regret his time on the Moira, not for everything it had allowed him to learn and the people it allowed him to meet. But he can also acknowledge that for all the memories he has of the ship, the ones that have stuck with him the most aren’t the good ones.

He doesn’t try to enter the ship. But he does linger for a while, staring at the wreckage with the look of someone lost in thought.]

i. I can't believe you made a dad joke out of your starter

[notglitching]

[Alan-one is more sensible than most of those Rinzler keeps track of. Alan-one is his user, with charge of him rather than the reverse. Alan-one doesn't approve of Clu's edits. Doesn't like that Rinzler submits to them. Might not approve of this change, now (no matter how badly wanted).

All of that delays search not at all when the system sweep passes and Alan-one goes missing.

Rinzler's own damage has slightly more effect. The storm is darkness and drain, an empty, hungry tower of sheer null, and it takes time to realize what the blank ache it leaves behind means. No scans. No scans, no code-sense, only a terrifying absence where purpose and direction should be found. He doesn't know how long it takes. He knows that he looks, and he knows that he listens, and he knows that eventually, he finds him.

Quick steps from behind. The harsh rattle of mismatched code, edged louder by sheer panic concern. Rinzler stops a pace away, tense lag drawing out only a moment before he speaks. Clearly. Full permissions.]

User.

Agent North Dakota | OTA

[sightsset]

[a.) arrival]

[for the first day, north will still have his sight. once he's checked in with the other freelancers, he'll be wandering to see if anyone needs any help with anything while also taking mental stock of the kinds of people they have nearby. he wants to make sure that he keeps as good a mental record of everyone he can.

[since his first post went up under the name "bismarck", it might be difficult to notice him, but he's also wearing the same colored metal that the profile image showed in the post. he keeps his helmet on, a sniper rifle on his back, and he somehow makes it look a little less threatening with the way he looks.

[considering he's easily somewhere between 6'7 and 6'9 in the armor, that's probably a little impressive.]

[b1.) hitting the road; day 1]

[during their first day of travel, north will be wandering at the edges of the groups, never too far from the other freelancers. he'll have the sniper rifle off his back and in his hands, and he'll be very clearly playing guard soldier with it. if someone ends up in trouble with the wildlife, he's very likely to place a bullet through the enemy target, quickly and efficiently.

[rounds are limited; but not as precious as people are, in his opinion.]

[b2.) hitting the road; day 2 forward]

[at some point during day two, things change for north. he can be found nearer to the freelancers, usually, but hanging in the back of them. sometimes he wanders a bit from the group, but never to the edge of the stream of travelers at large like he had day one.

[any time someone gets to close to him, he pauses and lets them get a few feet ahead, avoids letting people run into him; but curiously, he never lifts his head to do so. every once in a while, if he's being watched, there's a flicker of magenta light nearby his head, usually followed by north stopping in front of an obstacle and navigating it with careful fluidity.

[and very, very rarely, you might be able to catch him stumbling on seemingly nothing.

[he's lost his sight when he stopped to eat, but he isn't saying anything. if someone calls him out, though, he might just get caught.]

[c.) wildlife]

[blind, but not helpless.

[that seems to be the probable general consensus if you've noticed north's blind at all. having a guide doesn't mean he isn't going to stray from the group a little here and there to be able to walk clear of anybody who might be nearby. a few days in and he's getting used to it as much as he can, but that doesn't mean he's clear of danger.

[at one point, a panther darts toward him and there's a flicker of magenta light near north's head. he's been toting a sniper rifle on his back and it comes off just as he slides out of the way of the animal. another flicker of light (was that little ball in the shape of a person?) and the rifle raises, holds, and fires as the panther lunges at him again. his accuracy is remarkable; the panther drops dead.

[it's not the only one in the area, but at least one of the threats is down.]

[d.) wildcard!!]

[other than avoiding the caves, he's open to being anywhere. if you explained the moira to him, feel free to notice him and be like "yo dude", or bother him at camping time!]

b2

[shiro2hero]

[If it were someone else, they might not have caught the stumble. But the guy is huge. It's more obvious than it should be. Not to mention, this is Shiro. And he's used to keeping an eye on people around him.]

[He's also wearing his armor, his step a little less sure than usual, thanks to the tail end of the space coffee wearing off.]

Hey -- [Calling out, to avoid startling on the approach.] -- you okay?

Sam Drake | OTA

[seekingmyfortune]

1. Well this sucks

[Well, this could be nicer. Sam has seen some pretty nasty things in his time, but even his time spent in jail in Panama was more welcoming than this barren wasteland. At least the prison had some pretty good views of the sea around it.

Sam doesn’t have much on him, but what he does have he keeps close. He resists the urge to take out a cigarette and smoke, getting the sinking sensation that the pack he does have might very well be the only one he’s going to get for a while. Better save them for true emergencies.

He’s not sure if he should be angry or more amused that they all apparently got duped by the Savrii, but as he stares out at the world before him, he offers a Very Helpful observation to anyone nearby.]

Well, I think it’s safe to say we took a wrong turn somewhere.

2. THIS REALLY SUCKS

[ It’s dark—too dark, he thinks, and he stops to wipe furiously at his eyes for what must be the hundredth time, hoping that the action will somehow help wipe away whatever is causing this ailment. And for what must be the hundredth time, he opens his eyes only to see….nothing.

Full of riches they said, it’ll be worth it they said. Any amusement Sam might have felt at the initial realization that they weren’t in Kansas anymore is now gone as he stumbles his way across the land, trying to make his way out of the vicinity of a storm.]

Hey! Anyone out there? Could use some help here—

[It’s amazing how your senses adjust when one of them is taken away. The sound and feeling of the storm making contact with the earth a little ways away sends him to the ground, scrambling for some form of shelter.]

Jesus Christ!

[Maybe it's his shout out that draws you closer, or maybe it's the panther nearby stalking its prey. Either way, you can hear Sam muttering quickly under his breath:]

Hail Mary, full of grace our Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb…!

Wildcard
[Feel free to post your own idea and I'll follow! I can also be reached at penpoints if you need me.]

this really sucks

[sketchycharacter]

[Not for the first time, Nate thinks to himself that it's a good thing he at least occasionally thinks ahead. As peaceful as Sawarga had been promised to be, he'd come prepared, and bought a gun. Which is why a shot rings out, silencing the panther and possibly Sam's prayer as well.

Then he's at Sam's side, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet.]

Come on, we gotta get out of here. Lean on me.

Sombra | OTA

[vata]

A: WASTELAND REFUGEES

[As many times as she's screwed people over in her life, she can't say she's surprised when the shoe's finally on the other foot: a lot's gone down in the short while after her arrival, most of it thanks to transplants like her, none of it good. Getting lied to? Dropped off in the middle of nowhere?

Yeah, it makes sense.

That said, it also sucks. Big time. Between the storms and the starved-out landscape, Sombra isn't patiently shrugging off her brand new Survivorman situation: she decides to head off— without company. Her attention is fixed on the energy signature humming in the distance. A bleak sign of life, only occasionally pinging her attention via the digital hookup she keeps hardwired across her skull, her spine.

If ever anyone needed a sure sign there was something ahead worth moving towards, Sombra's got it. And hey, clambering up over rocks and across crumbling gaps with a shamelessly rapid pace, she might even share...with someone that can keep up.]

B: BLACKOUT

[No matter what she says, Sombra's not infallible. In a rush to reach the energy marker before a lack of food or supplies starts wearing her down, she makes the call to push ahead during one particularly nasty storm—

And in the aftermath, on her own, she's left blind in the rotted wastes. Cybernetics drained almost entirely of power, all she can detect is the occasional, flickering trace of energy. A faint flash of something in the permanent dark. Worse for wear, disheveled and sightless, any electrical signature is enough to catch her attention: one hand outstretched,
the best safeguard against running into rocks or twisted metal, or—

The sound of approaching footsteps draws her attention immediately, hissing a warning through her teeth:]

¿Quién es— ?

C: R&R AT LAST

Ugh. I'm never moving again. [She'll deal with the lethargy later, finding a stream of rich energy feels like heaven in the moment. All things considered, there are worse places to set up camp...or maybe a permanent residence until someone else finds a better way to get by in this infierno.

She's never been above the idea of someone doing the heavy lifting for her.] This is all I need, right here.

[Her sight might not have returned, but the pools have helped restore some life to the cybernetics embedded in her skin; it gives her little hints of her surroundings from time to time. Electronics looming near. Functioning ones.

Those sure signs of life that tell her someone else is within earshot, and that she isn't talking to herself.]

MOIRA FUN

[tinkerhell]

[It had been months since Reaper had been on the Moira. In comparison to some, he hadn't even been there that long -- but Reaper had a long memory. For longer than he cared to admit, he'd been alone. Alone without a team, or any sort of real support. Sure, he had been on amicable terms with Angela Ziegler, but Reaper knew better than to expect her to take his side.

If she were still around when he had killed Jack, she would have been among the team to come for him. It would have been wide public knowledge. He knows that.

But he also remembers when the decay had been torn from him. He remembers struggling to breathe under the oppression of his many layers, of panic and how he had swung at her when he'd allowed terror to take over -- here, in the remains of the med-bay, where he finds Sombra scouring for supplies. He hadn't really followed her, but it was obvious they had the same thing on their mind.

Survival was easier when you had a monopoly on essential supplies. And even if there was nothing left, Reaper had spent more time than he ever cared to admit in these halls.]

Did you get here first?

[Spoken as if nothing had happened between them. But Reaper's tendency to hold grudges was nearly legendary -- she must know that he hasn't forgotten what she said to him.]

agent maine | ota

[bloodbathing]

OPTION A: arrival

[ In this barren landscape, Agent Maine sticks out like a sore thumb. He positively looms at 7'4", he's clad in bright white combat armor, and his helmet is a reflective golden dome. He moves like he's got places to be and shit to do. Keen observers may note that he's walking in a particular pattern: he's guarding a perimeter. Around what is up for debate, but it certainly isn't the entire group of newcomers.

[ (Spoiler alert: it's the other people in similar armor. Man's got a team to protect.)

[ Unless they're in his way, Maine seems to pay little mind to those around him, with few exceptions. If someone is struggling with something heavy, he'll wander over to take care of it. If someone is clearly other-than-human, he'll watch them carefully. And, if someone walks up to him, he'll stop to give them his attention.

[ Not a social creature, this one, but not entirely unapproachable. ]

OPTION B: day two onward

[ The purposeful movements of the first day are gone. Maine stays close to the other Freelancers, steps carefully, looks at no one, and occasionally begins to wander off course. Most of the time, he corrects his path fairly quickly: he pauses, cocks his head like he's listening to something, and resumes walking in the right direction. Other times, he may require assistance to get back on track.

[ Unfortunately for him, Maine is even less approachable than before, now that he got a goddamn bladed grenade launcher at the ready. It comes in handy when the fang-faced creatures try to take advantage of his slow movement: once they're in range, it doesn't require finesse to lash out with the blade; once they're injured, all he needs is brute strength to cut them in two.

[ ... Come to think of it; the blood splatters don't help much with approachability, either. Damn.

[ Whether he's stumbling off course or allowing the local wildlife to get far too close for comfort, one thing quickly becomes clear: behind the golden visor, Maine is completely blind. ]

OPTION C: late in the week

[ Agent Maine does not stop.

[ Shoot him, starve him, blind him, throw his worldview into chaos — it doesn't matter. He doesn't stop. He endures.

[ Any who falter or fall nearby will find the massive Freelancer staring sightlessly in their direction. Engage, and he'll approach. From there, there are only two choices: hurry the fuck along, or get ready to get carried.

[ If they're lucky, Maine will let them choose between a piggyback ride or getting tossed over his armored shoulder like a sack of flour. If they're lucky. ]

OPTION D: unfamiliar places

[ Maine doesn't wander the wreckage of the Moira. Maine digs a hole.

[ It's not a very deep hole. A few feet, at most. It's about four feet wide and eight feet long. He moves quickly, like he's done this many times before. The more he digs, the more it looks like like a shallow grave.

[ Huh.

[ That impression probably isn't helped when, once he finishes, Maine just. Fucking. Lays down in it. Like he's waiting to be buried or some shit.

[ ... Or like he just dug a hole to sleep in.

[ Either way, this is his hole, and he's not moving. Fuck exploration. ]

WILDCARD

( ooc: Got a different idea? Come at me! Or hit me up at nostalgiabomb or nostalgiabomb#1629 on discord for plotting /o/ )

closed to castmates

[bloodbathing]

[ On the second day, Maine finally takes off his helmet. Even given the current situation, he looks noticeably tired. Distracted. Borderline disquieted. He eats quickly and efficiently, and his gaze never leaves the storm churning overhead.

[ Then his pupils blow wide, and the brown of his irises all but disappears.

[ There's no moment of stunned stillness or silence. There's just a grunt of surprise and a shift of position: he draws his Magnum, holds it at low ready, and stares into the dark.

[ A moment passes. He squints, trying to penetrate the veil. He looks around for the glowing points on his teammates' armor — wasn't North right there? — but sees nothing.

[ What the fuck's going on? ]

Status.

[ There's no edge to the word. Nothing to betray how he feels about suddenly losing his sight. Because, as far as Maine knows, the same blackout just happened to everyone. ]

Agent Washington | OTA

[notyourrookie]

A: Arrival

Wash isn't sure why he'd expected anything different.

He looks over the barren landscape, even less hospitable than Sidewinder, where they've been dumped, and feels the knowledge that people can't be trusted crystalise a little more solidly in his heart.

"Well, this isn't good."

B: Travelling
The only reason why he hadn't immediately headed out on his own is because Maine had all but grabbed him and dragged him back towards the others. Which is exactly where he doesn't want to be, but at least they're people whose skills he's familiar with. Other people are liable to get looks of suspicion , and he's careful not to turn his back on anyone if he can help it.

It gets darker. Rough camps are made when they really can't keep going anymore, but Wash doesn't sleep much at the best of times so ends up, more often than not, keeping watch over whoever he's with, napping in fits and starts whenever there's a lull in activity.

It's probably for the best; they're being hunted. Those... creatures. Worse than the Covvies in some ways, although at least they lack actual guns. He'll take that as a blessing.

"Get down!" He has armour at least, and knives. He isn't about to die here.

C: The Moira
The sight of the downed ship makes him feel like someone has walked over his grave. He stares for a long moment at it, and it's all too easy to imagine there's snow, that he's trapped in the infirmary, burning and screaming and sirens and no-one came back for him.

He shakes it off, would drag a hand over his eyes if he weren't wearing a helmet.

"It's nothing. Let's get inside. Some shelter has to be better than nothing."

D: Wildcard! Hit Wash up with something else!

C

[infailtration]

[ York lost his voice awhile back, but luckily he has Delta to speak for him. The little hologram hovers at his shoulder when York steps in beside Wash, both of them looking at the wreck of the Moira, York's head tilted curiously like he's considering something. ]

York recommends caution -- things appear different than they were after the crash. I concur.

York | OTA

[infailtration]

hitting the road

York isn't happy that they've wound up here again, that they were seemingly evicted from Thisavrou on a lie. He'll roll with it because they have no other choice, and by all appearances is in good spirits despite the situation, but those close to him or exceptionally good at reading others will be able to tell that he's angry. Furious really. It's in the stiff way he holds himself, a tense undertone in his voice when he speaks -- even though it's muffled by his helmet. He's in a full suit of armor, after all, a pistol holstered on his hip and battle rifle strapped to his back even though they were supposedly going somewhere peaceful because he never goes through the ingress without his armor. His paranoia and readiness have worked in his favor this time around.

He also has a fully stocked pac disc, and though it's not a sustainable amount of supplies for everyone he can feed and water those who appear most in need. As they move towards the signal he sticks to the front of the group, weapon at the ready, always alert and watching for threats.

storm front

It's day two before York finally removes his helmet to eat while they're resting, with a storm brewing directly overhead... this turns out to be a mistake. But he won't realize he's lost his voice until someone addresses him and he needs to speak, and finds he can't. Luckily he has Delta to speak for him, should you need to talk to him. Maybe just to ask for food or water, since he's been seen handing out before?

wildlife

The wildlife sure has changed. Into something much more threatening, and York isn't about to let anyone be attacked even if they wander off. He escorts people should they want to leave the caves, stands guard while the others sleep, rifle ready just in case. Should he actually kill something he jogs out to drag it back for someone more skilled to slaughter it for food... he's a crack shot, usually only needing one bullet to get the job done. The only downside is that the blast of his weapon firing might wake people, but it's a small price to pay for safety.

old familiar places

Well this seems different as well. People are taking shelter in the ship and York's all for that, and for scavenging whatever supplies may be left in it, but things seem... off. He wanders through the halls and things aren't as he remembers. Granted, he wasn't on the ship for long. He could be wrong. But Delta seems to agree with him that this just isn't how the Moira used to be. And he can't seem to get back to the Ingress Chamber, he keeps getting turned around. The halls shouldn't be this long and winding.

Should he spot someone he knows was on the ship with him before the crash, he'll lift a hand and beckon them over to have Delta ask if they think something's up, as well.

wildlife

[monomachy]

Since they had been thrust on to this barren planet, Diana feels as if she hasn't slept. She may have gotten a few hours of sleep here and there, but there has been no true rest for her. Surrounded by people scared and uncertain, these nights reminds her of those when she was on the Front; their little band of misfits and runaways, trying to find the motivation to go on. It is too familiar, her heart still too raw for her to really be able to put it aside and sleep.

The occasional screeches and growls silenced by gunshots do not help.

When she finally decides to venture out of the caves to investigate who is guarding the camp, she convinces herself that it is because the rocky floor is entirely uninviting and impossible to sleep upon anyway. The glowing of the caves gives way to gentle firelight, and it doesn't take her long to spot a figure alone. She has brought no cloak, only her traditional Amazonian garb, and the warmth of the fire is welcome to stand beside.

She observes for a moment before addressing him. "You must be very skilled with your weapon to stand guard alone."