thisavrou_log | ( event )

Entry tags:

( event )

Who: The crew of the Moira
When: 9/18 to 9/30
Where: Planet and ship
What: Main event; all info inside
Warnings: Effects from Exuo, heavy and graphic themes

PENUMBRA

"Into the darkness they go..."

As the crew enters its third week aboard the Moira, the majority of supplies have been gathered, and everyone will find themselves with more free time than before. The marketplace has offered numerous diversions, as well as the opportunity to trade for items they need or want. Life on the Moira is relatively peaceful, and there have been no unusual occurrences. Excursions onto the planet have yielded an invaluable resource called Exuo, which has been determined to be a rare mineral that is used for multiple purposes. A general awareness has spread among those aboard the Moira that, while it is used as an additive to food and drink, resulting in a slightly elevated change in demeanor and leaving a person feeling generally better, it is also in the air they breathe. The effects of Exuo will vary from person to person.

Yet...

Things have started to change. The once vibrant sunlight that hasn’t given anyone a moment’s reprieve is now slowly beginning to disappear, and with it, a shadow is being cast across the horizon. The red dust is more noticeable now than ever, blanketing every surface, and the planet’s true grunge surfaces.

☄THE EMPTY MARKET

The hustle and bustle of the marketplace has slowly started to taper off, leaving behind empty stalls and hastily closed up shops. What visitors the crew have encountered are no longer so friendly; they won’t say a word as to where they are going or why. All that’s left are the few things they could not carry with them to their own ships before leaving. But is it worth the peculiar looks the natives are giving as you traverse the now quiet streets to take them? What is this abrupt feeling of unease weighing down on your shoulders?

The only living things that remain, aside from them, are the members of the Moira, but it’s not a comforting notion, especially if you step into the ever-growing shadows.

☄THE NATIVES

With light dwindling quickly, nothing is safe anymore. Those people with the plain masks and hoods worn to hide their faces? They’re not so quiet and not so friendly now. Their behavior drastically deteriorates the darker it becomes, shifting from harmless and complacent to feral and dangerous. They lash out at anyone who gets too close, and they don’t hesitate to drag away those foolish enough to get closer. And those masks and hoods? They, too, have been tossed aside with the slow setting of those distant stars.

● Aside from physical outbursts, some of them may be found trying to damage the transporters to prevent return to the Moira.
● Their mouths appear sunken in, stained red like the Exuo this planet is known for. Or is that something else soaked into their skin? Are you sure all those visitors made it back to their own ships? Their small black eyes never seem to close either.
● They are thin in stature but relatively strong. It will take more than one person to overpower them.
● If approached, they will retaliate with sharp nails and teeth. Their movements are aggressive, meant to disable but not kill.
● Killing the natives comes with no reprimand from the captains.

☄PURLOIN & OBLATION

The suns have eclipsed.

What light there is can only be found through artificial sources, and with the lack of light also comes alterations in the crew’s own mood. Where MIDs had detected a decrease in stress and increase in endorphins, that is no longer the case now. Some may find themselves irritable for no reason, while others are torn between fits of paranoia and excessive anger. The pleasant sweetness of the Exuo in the air has dissipated, leaving a staleness behind, and those that have been exposed longer to the surface of the planet suffer extensively more than those who have not left the safety of the Moira for extended periods of time.

However, most crew members will find themselves desperate to return to the empty marketplace or even the mines. Perhaps they are in search of more Exuo, or maybe they simply want to find those natives to question them or take out that aggression on something not so fragile. During this time, disappearances are more noticeable than ever, and those who go in search of friends and crew may find more than they bargained for.

●the seized: The darkness is unerringly quiet, and the natives that still linger on the planet have faded away with the sun. Maybe you find yourself in the deserted marketplace, or outside the wreckage of a transporter that’s been torn apart. The sounds you hear come from your left and grow steadily louder beside you. The sudden irritability that the crew has been experiencing multiplies and transforms into a paranoia that leaves you wanting to beg for the sun to return. Thin but strong arms wrap around you, long fingers with sharp nails dig into your skin. They don’t speak, or attack with the intent to hurt you, merely pull you away and back into the shadows. Whether you struggle or fight back doesn’t matter, try to get free.
●the subjugated: With your arms and feet bound, you wake up in an unfamiliar place. It may be hard to remember where you were last, or it may be crystal clear. You were taken by a group of the planet’s natives, tied up and thrown into a hollowed out pit in the ground. The dirt smells sickeningly sweet, metallic, and it overpowers your senses. There are others around you, both crew members from the Moira and people you might recognize from the marketplace. You know now that the disappearances weren’t random, or normal, and are the result of the natives capturing explorers and traders for their own unknown reasons. **
●the scarified: They want the the light back. This much is clear now. The natives believe their sun was stolen, and the only way to guarantee its return is through offering worthy sacrifices. With whatever dim lighting there is, you make out the shape of an altar slathered in something wet and dark. You are on your knees beside others that were chosen, waiting in line to be sacrificed. The person ahead of you is lifted and carried to the altar, and with the natives gathered together,chanting growing louder, there are quick movements before everything goes still all at once. Are you next? Or has someone come to save you?

The only reprieve from this nightmare is the familiar sound of the Moira’s transporter ships landing nearby. The crew has banded together and are on their way to free you. **

☄ASCENSION

The planet is no longer safe. Through a series of disturbing events, it has become clear that the crew cannot stay. Supplies has been gathered, hopefully enough to last until they can find another place to dock, and the captains, through the MID devices and in person, are ushering everyone back to the ship. It is imperative that everyone board swiftly so that they can make a hasty retreat. There is nothing left for anyone here.

( ooc; ** These options are for those who signed up for the event. All other characters are encouraged to rescue their crewmates from these situations as quickly as possible! For questions and/or plot, go here. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not exactly what I'm used to, either. [Tron's response is dryly amused, though he wonders why the other prisoner is so wary toward him. They're both in the same situation, it seems logical to him to work together to escape.]

[He tenses his forearms against the ropes again, feeling some of the fibers begin to give way. He's quite a bit stronger than any human, and he could possibly break a weak point in the rope, given enough time and energy, but expending that much to break the bonds might not be efficient.]

You're from the ship, aren't you? What's your name? I am Tron.

[Ade just shakes his head again, angry at the bindings. He moves to place the wall of the ditch close behind him so that he could run his hands along it. The earth was gritty and sharp, compacted enough against the wall to be solid.

He tilts his head to watch Tron, keeping his own face neutral as he repeatedly drags his wrists along the wall behind him. He can feel the rocks biting at his skin the same way they must be cutting at the fibers of his bindings, moving them quicker as it happens.]

Name's Force. And yeah, I'm from the ship. [His voice only sounds slightly strained as he starts to feel moisture gathering along his wrists. It meant he was bleeding, but that would heal in time.]

It would have been better not to meet under these circumstances, but... [Tron trails off as he works on his own bonds, the stiff fabric beginning to fray and snap. He can feel the surface render on his wrists scraping and derezzing as well, but nothing that won't mend with his own repair processes.]

I do not know if we can count on any of the others from the ship to come looking for us. [They've only been there a short time, not enough to form any cohesive bonds as crewmates.] If they even know we're missing.

[The only sign that Ade was in pain was a sharp intake of breath when he finally breaks free of the bindings. He pulls his hands in front of himself and examines them momentarily, they were only flesh wounds regardless of how they dripped with blood. It meant he'd need to get them disinfected but he was sure that could be dealt with on the ship.] Yeah mate, pretty sure in a ditch with your hands tied together ain't what anyone wants when they're first saying hello to a bloke.

[He sighs and bends to work on his feet bindings.] Don't think we've got that to worry 'bout neither. Now my hands are free I'd love to see the bastards try jump me again. [Because he'd misjudged things the last time, he won't do that now.] Christ I'd love a fag. We've gotta get back to the ship for that if nothing else.

[One last twist of Tron's fingers and the rope snaps, a few scattered voxels dripping from his damaged wrists to disappear into the ground. Quickly, he tugs down the sleeves of his uniform to at least attempt to cover the glittering cuts, then brings his gloved hands around to begin working on the rope around his ankles.]

They caught me by surprise as well. [Tron frowns, briefly reaching up and back to feel at his--unfortunately empty--disc port.] ...and they've taken my weapons. Not that I can't fight without them, but I will need them back. [His discs are far more than just a tool for fighting. His entire memories and self are stored on those.]

[Tron glances over at Force with confusion, unfamiliar with that particular User term.] ...you want a what?

Edited 2015-10-06 06:15 (UTC)

Weapons? [He just chuckles at that.] That one ain't gonna be a problem either. Not all of us need something to help us fight, yeah? [Which was already revealing a little more than he'd like but he'd been caught up in a moment of arrogance.

He finishes with his feet and glances up, eyebrows knotting into a perplexed expression.] A fag mate, a cigarette. [He shakes his head slowly.] You an American then, yeah? All of you lot think I'm asking for something pretty sick when I say that.

Yes... you're right, some don't. Many of us have training or special abilities. [He looks Force over again briefly, wondering which of those applies to him, before returning his attention to the ropes on his ankles.] But as I said, I will need them back. They are more important than just for fighting. [And that's revealing a little more than he wants to as well... but the memory glitches will start to affect him soon, and he can't risk that.]

[The bonds on his feet take far less time, and he stretches out his legs after a moment.] Not American, no. [He's still more than a little confused, and it's apparent in his tone and expression.] I'm sure you can get your... cigarette? once we get back to the ship. [He stands and brushes some of the dirt from his hands and coveralls.]

[He doesn't flinch at the words training or special abilities. Instead he takes it in his stride, shrugging.] Or some of us are just normal blokes. [Which was the image he was totally putting out there. Then again, most London street rats knew how to fight or grew up knowing that the odd scuffle was commonplace.]

Well then mate, guess we gotta get your shit back then don't we. [Even if he didn't give a fuck whether or not this guy needed the things, he was just trying to play nice- the same way the captains had suggested. He couldn't be a loner all his life.]

Oh yeah? Feels like half the bloody humans in this place are Americans. [Which isn't rude of him, it was just true.] And I will, yeah. The moment we're back on that fucker i'll probably smoke like forty. [Not that he's stressed or anything.]

[Tron doesn't push the issue, as he doesn't want too many questions asked about himself, either. It's going to be fairly obvious soon enough that he's not American, not even human, with the glowing lines on his skin and the pixelating wounds on his wrists rather than blood.]

First things first, we need to get out of this pit. [He peers up... the walls are too steep to climb, and the edges too high to reach even with Tron's acrobatic abilities on his own.]

If you boost me up, I can pull you up after me.

[He knows that they both need out of the pit and he does contemplate the walls, thinking that if he wanted to he could just as easily throw himself out of the pit in a heartbeat, channelling his powers around him to lift him seamlessly from their intended prison- but that would involve revealing his powers to Tron.

Instead, he cocks his head to the side, expression to turning curious.] Oh yeah mate? An' what's to say you won't just get your arse boosted out this hole and take off running? [Because his lack of trust was one of the only things that could overwhelm the situation.]

Because that won't do either of us any good? [Tron knows the other man doesn't trust him, why should he? His tone turns slightly irritated.] Distrusting each other will only make this more difficult. If I left you alone down here and tried to escape on my own, I would have less of a chance against any enemies I came across, as they've already shown they can take me down. We have more of a chance to escape together. I have nothing to gain by leaving you here.

[He shrugs and looks up at the edge of the pit again.] If you want, I'll lift you up first. [A slightly sarcastic smile.] As long as you don't plan to leave me behind.

[Ade nods sharply.] Fine. Least you can prove you're a smart one, mate. Just wanted to make sure you realized leaving me in this pit was a shitty idea.

[He shakes his arms out, loosening the stiffness that he'd gained from lying on the floor.] Don't think you'd be able to lift me, mate. [Which was mostly because Ade was an awful lot of muscle contained in a tight, angry package. He knelt beside the edge of the pit, ready to boost Tron up.]

Hm... it won't be a problem. [Tron didn't feel like arguing that point further, though, and stepped carefully into Force's offered assistance. Once up at the edge of the pit, he pulled himself up and scrambled to his feet, checking quickly to make sure there were no guards waiting to immediately take him back down. Satisfied, he knelt by the edge and reached down, offering his hand.]

We're all clear. Come on.

[He almost did expect Tron to leave without him, so he had his power coiled tightly around himself like a leash, ready to lash out and leave the pit regardless. After all, he could perceive the other man's betrayal as reason enough to strike out against him... and it would still stop anyone else on the ship from finding out.

Instead though, when the offered hand comes out to him he takes it gladly and lets himself get pulled out, jumping quickly to his feet rather than resting there on the floor.

Now they were out on the open he moved quickly and efficiently, suddenly seeming the soldier again rather than an angry boy in an open grave.] What exactly are we looking for, mate. With these weapons of yours?

[Tron had pulled Force out of the pit easily, hardly using a fraction of his strength. As the other stands, he does as well, again scanning the area for any sign of their enemies.]

Identity discs. [Realizing that won't mean anything to someone not from the Grid, Tron tries to explain.] Round, flat, [He holds up his hands to indicate the size.] with a hole in the center. They fit on my back here. [Turning, he shows the disc port on his back, centered through the hole he's cut in the fabric of the uniform.]

They should have a blue glow as well, so they won't be hard to find in this darkness.

[He's just going to look at Tron like the guy was insane. The fact that they were looking for identity discs that fit into his back like some kind of actual machine.

He shakes his head and sighs.] Mate, have to ask... but you some kinda bloody robot or something? [Even as he's scanning the terrain for them.]

[Tron hesitates, then shakes his head. He supposed he'll have to explain, if he wants this man's help.]

Program. Not a robot. [He holds out one arm, pushing up the sleeve to show the abrasions caused by the rope from before. His wrist has dark pixelated scarring on it now, the edges glowing gently as his self-repair processes work to mend the tears. Outside of that, there are delicate circuits lining his skin, glowing blue-white in the dark.]

The discs hold my memories and identity. If I am separated from them much longer I will begin to... glitch. Forget who I am.

[He nods slowly.] Totally a robot then mate, or a mandroid. Something bloody weird.

[Totally fair coming from the mutant, right? He was just a lot better of hiding it from people.] Well then we better get them, yeah? 'cause if not you'll forget something important and I dunno, shit your pants and it'll be awkward for both of us.

[Tron decides not to argue the point. Hiding what he is hasn't been too much of an issue on the ship as of yet, anyway.]

I'm sure they wouldn't have taken them far. They wouldn't know what to do with... them...

[He trails off, a confused, vacant expression crossing his face. He pauses, stumbling slightly on the rough ground, unlike his usual sure-footed walk.]

What... what are we doing here? [He glances over at Force, furrowing his brow.] Who are you?

[He keeps scanning, assuming these disks are going to at least give off some kind of glint the same way Tron's circuitry did. He would be faster scanning for them from above, but he couldn't reveal that to Tron... which might not matter when the other man suddenly forgets who he is. He throws his hands up, his face scrunching slightly.]

The fuck, mate? We literally just met each other. I mean, I know you mentioned forgetting shit without your discs but bloody hell... [Because this was ridiculous.]

[Tron recovers after a moment, shaking his head, circuits on his skin dimming and flaring.] Glitching. I told you it would happen.

[He frowns, irritated... more time must have passed than he thought, his internal system clock glitching too from the loss of his discs.] Thank you for assisting me in searching, Force. [Yes, he remembers him again, for now.]

I'll forget who I am, eventually. Become a stray, a blank program. It's not pleasant, in my world. Strays can be overwritten, turned into anything, anyone.

[He's just going to stare, that what the fuck expression still clear on his features. ]

We better find them bloody discs then, yeah? [He dusts his hands off on his trousers before starting to walk forward, in the direction of the constant noise. If they were going to find these discs he imagined they would be close to where ever the alien bastards who got a jump on him would be.]

And try not to do that- [Waves a hand.] Again. 'Cause I'm not the best bloke to be dealing with it.

[That earns Force a glare from Tron, not like he can control the glitches, but he doesn't say as much.] Yes. That would be the plan.

[They round another corner in the maze of caves, and suddenly those black shadows are back, hands reaching out, dozens of them, grasping, attempting to overwhelm the two. Tron doesn't have time to calculate an attack or dodge, and without his weapons he's reduced to striking out with hands and feet. He's better with his discs, but he can fight well enough bare-handed... even so, there's too many of the creatures to deal with on his own.]

[He hadn't expected them to be ambushed again, not really, and it was proving a hell of a lot more of a problem than he'd anticipated. Tron was glitching out and apparently not particularly useful without these disks of his.

He knew it was going to have to be a calculated risk here, but he could play clean up when they weren't on the verge of death any more. With a yell he raises his hands, inverting the gravity on the space around them. He focuses on Tron just enough that he keeps the stranger on the floor with him even as the aliens suddenly rise all around them into the sky.

He cocks his head at the strange robot-man, a snarl on his lips.] This is gonna be our secret mate, yeah? 'Cause if this get's out... you'll regret it. [And his hands go from extended to suddenly clenched fists and there's a series of disgusting popping noises as he slowly crushes the aliens around them like cans in their own gravity bubble.]

[The creatures around him are suddenly... gone, lifted into the air by some strange force. Tron straightens, watching with a furrowed brow as his new reluctant ally apparently controls the gravity around them.]

We all have our secrets, apparently. [This is what Force was talking about when he said he didn't need weapons to fight.]

I'd have no reason to tell anyone. [He continues walking past the bodies, apparently unbothered by the crushed forms.] I see you trust no one. But that may become a problem for you eventually.

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