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deep in the murk
"It comes first and follows after. Ends life, kills laughter."
With the outcome of the battle against the Caducans and the Moira having twisted together with their ship to form a strange combination of glass, metal, and organic parts (both across the ship and among the crewmembers), there is still the matter of the Ingress not functioning “properly”. It hasn’t worked correctly since the very first person arrived on the Moira through it, and there is little the Captains themselves know about its functions. However, now, more than before, it’s even worse than that. The Ingress malfunctions yet again. This time, though, it doesn’t simply combine time and space and objects around it—it encompasses the entirety of the ship and sends it far off into a completely different universe. Welcome to:
( click text for a rough map/layout )This puts the Moira closer to its final destination, and most of the glass has disappeared as the Caducan ship has been left behind aside from small things here and there (i.e., some of the walls in the corridors, random furniture in the rooming decks, the rooms themselves). Even the mess hall has permanently changed. Yet, there is some bad news that comes with this transition. The universe the ship is in is so terrible that it has been given its own name so that travelers avoid it altogether. Even the Captains themselves are aware of just how Bad News this universe is and had originally planned to take “the long way around” to avoid it. Anything shady or unsavory can be found in the Runoff, and while it might not appeal to the majority, it is simply second-nature to those who inhabit it. From arms trafficking to drugs, whatever one might think is illegal somewhere else is suddenly very legal and very dangerous.
Through the transition, some of the crew will accidentally end up on a nearby outpost specifically used for slave trade. It is a covered, temporary establishment used only for this purpose, meaning there are no open markets, hotels, or businesses of any sort. Stalls and tents line dirty streets, and ships litter the space around the outpost. This is a slave trade zone. People come and go but do not stay. Various lifeforms can be found here, and there are many different forms of slave trade happening. The motto “honor among thieves” does not exist in this place either. Crew who end up here will be “free”; however, this means that there is the potential to be taken and sold or kept by those of the Runoff. The Moira will not be close to this outpost, but the signals given from their MIDs will alert the crew to their location. Rescue, obviously, is imminent, but those who choose to help their fellow crewmembers must keep to small stealth missions using transporters or other crafts with one important detail in mind: they cannot bring attention or notice to the Moira itself.
Almost one-third of the crew has found themselves on the slave trade outpost, leaving the rest to plan for rescue. The Captains will immediately divulge all information that they have about the outpost, which is unfortunately very little outside of the stigma associated with the Runoff. The Captains will ask any MID techs or those with skills to create a program that allows person to person location; this function will allow crewmembers to search for those on the outpost via their MIDs. Rescue efforts are encouraged, and all the ships and transporters in the cargo bay will be available for public use. Crew will be told to be careful and quiet, bringing no attention to the Moira’s location, and most importantly, do not stand out. If crew look and act like they don’t belong there, others will notice. Stealth is the name of the game, and blending in is a necessity. ☄ time goes by slowly The unfortunate crewmembers who ended up on the outpost have now found themselves pursued by those looking to make a profit through slave trade. The standards of hard labor vary from owner to owner, but it is what it sounds like. Rough, hard work that will last as long as the body performing it can endure. If purchased, owners might examine their new property to determine what type of work they’d be best suited for and then split them up into holding areas until they are done with their purchases. Others might have their slaves begin work by cleaning their ship or holding stalls or packing up their tents and gear. The owners, and their needs, are as varied as the universe. Did you manage to escape? Or were you forced to work before you were rescued? ☄ and it seems to last forever Like the crewmembers taken by general labor owners, the murdersport slavers buy and take whomever they believe can last the longest in the pit. Some take those who appear to be strong or have great stamina, and some take those who are light on their feet or are quick-witted. Some crew are chosen simply based on appearance and how good they’ll look in their gear. If pursued, the slavers will do everything they can to capture the Moirans, and if captured, crew might be taken to a holding stall or a testing pit so that their skills can be witnessed by the public and tested. Some slavers want to show off their new property by throwing them into small roped off areas with other slaves, various creatures, or machines. Some make them stand up in front of groups and simply show them off, boasting that, at the next big event in the Runoff, they’ll surely win the grand prize. What kind of slaver has taken you? Will you be forced to fight before you rescue? Or will you not make it to the Moira before the Ingress pulls you back? ☄ but then it starts to fly ( cw: sex ) As is typical of this universe, slave trade comes in various forms. The most notorious being its illustrious sex trade. Slaves are bought and sold quickly and often, with no notable preference for appearance or species. Buyers come from all over to find slaves to work in their brothels, for personal use, as in-house entertainment, and much more. While the other two most popular type of slave trade don’t care as much about the physical well being of their property, these specific owners usually do. They might try to incapacitate first, so that the slaves aren’t bruised or cut, and if necessary, use binds until they can get them back to their ships or holding stalls. Some owners have their slaves cleaned and dressed in the finest attire, while others shove them into uniforms and tossed into stalls. Were you captured? Did you escape? Or were you rescued before something untoward occurred? What's more, events of the past always have a way of coming back to haunt you.
Months past, a monster terrorized the crew and left a very literal mark upon those that it touched. Those scarred by encounters with the Ploiatos will find their minds drifting as they work and go about their day. They may also find themselves in a different part of the ship than intended when they come back to themselves. It happens slowly, these small moments of lost time. But both before and after these events occur, one might notice that the scars seem to shift slightly. Where the patterns have been stable for months, suddenly the branching arms of the scars appear to be in a slightly different position than before. More often than not, those who lose time will regain awareness and find themselves in Navigation. When this happens, oftentimes Captain Manasseh will herd them out with a quiet, but undeniably firm, suggestion to visit the infirmary. More unsettling are the moments when they awaken in the I.L.R. standing outside the one door that should never be opened. As for those who were lucky enough to avoid encounters with the creature locked within, they must figure out how to deal with their friends and fellow crew who seem to walk around in a fog with no control of their actions.
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hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-07-19 01:11 am
2 works for me <3
It would be prudent, perhaps. Morally right.
But he's learned a long time ago that survival is rarely either of these things. It isn't pretty. It's selfish and craven and so pathetically unattractive. But it's also necessary.
The pragmatist in him unseats the martyr, that small offer looking like a godsend were he to ever believe in one. He takes the flask without a word and tips it back. But if the martyr is unseated, it certainly isn't silenced, and one swallow is all he allows. He can't be the only one who needs it. The note of thanks is written into the careful way he passes it back, and the insistent glance with which he does so.]
How did you get him to--you're not stuck here too, are you?
[He has bigger things to worry about than a thank you that remains unspoken.]
no subject
And whether Anakin's put this target on himself or had it thrust upon him, he needs to keep his strength up if he wants to be able to protect anyone. There's no room for the martyr here. That's how you get people killed.]
I made him leave, but he will come back.
[It's both as simple as that and not so easily explained. Wanda is furious enough with everything about this place that it's easy to let the scarlet rise into her eyes to clarify, a far deeper ruby red than it could theoretically be under the influence of the Dark Side.]
How bad is it? Can you stand?
[Normally she could sense that sort of thing, but there's so much pain that it's all running together. She'd shut her mind to it if she could, but she's trying to keep the MID out of sight as much as possible. How else is she supposed to find everyone?]
no subject
[As if the hiss of pain even lightly shifting elicits doesn't speak to that on its own. But he doesn't want to elaborate; he might fall apart if he does. He notes the red in her eyes, a thing he's never seen in action, and a point he'll ask about later. All he does note on that front is a soft:]
Don't do this to yourself on my account. [His gaze shifts to the floor, but his heart is already found a new home in his stomach, there's no fear to really be added to keep the words at bay.] I've been-- I've done this before, plenty of people here haven't.
no subject
[And that includes you, Anakin. Unfortunately, they seem to be in a bit of a pickle. Together they could probably get everyone out of here but as it stands he's probably too hurt to help her with more than a distraction.]
Have they done more to you than I can see?
[She can probably get those shackles off, but if they've been chipped or worse it's going to require some extra creativity to get anyone out of here. While she could technically attempt to use the black card, she already knows this particular overseer won't sell Anakin yet - too uncooperative, still needs to "learn his place." There won't be much other option beyond running for it.]
no subject
[Petulant and maybe a little more bitter than he has a right to sound at the moment when all that does is give his voice the tone of being ungrateful, but there's so much anger that it eventually has to go somewhere.]
It hurts worse than it looks, but I'll live. [There's another insistent push back of the flask.]
What do you need me to do? [He sees that look, knows she wants to help, and if it gets anyone else out of here, consequences be damned. Better to go out here than in a future that hurts so many more people than even this. That would be worth it, wouldn't it?]
no subject
Who needs the most help? It's...there's too much, I can't...
[The red, which has been flickering in and out steadily, dies completely and leaves Wanda's eyes the same green they've always been. She can manage, if she's following a particular thread, but to open herself up to everything - everyone, victim and slaver alike - it's enough to make anyone actually physically ill. She has been all right in a city crippled by despair, in a planet shattering to pieces, but this...there's nothing good here. Never has been.
She takes a breath, shuts her mind. This isn't the time.]
I think I can remove those restraints. It will be easier to get everyone out with two.
no subject
The pain being a focus should worry him too, but he'll have time enough for that when they're out of here (or worse).
He nods simply, as much of eager consent as she's going to get. If there's a place to help now, there may not be the opportunity later. And this one he doesn't turn down in favor of a nagging internal martyr.
Not yet, anyway.]Where are you taking them? Do you have a transport?
[This part of it all is like being right back in the war: focus on what can be done, what needs to be done, the people you're here to assist. Everything else is just noise. It's easier, when he thinks of it in terms of strategy.]
no subject
[Whatever the captains have done to give them such spending power is beside the point as long as it works. But first, Wanda's hands hover over the shackles, red sparking to life around her palms --
Except something about her energy reacts badly with their construction. Whatever's keeping Anakin here is strong enough to travel through the red threads before Wanda can react and sends her sprawling with a cry. She groans, pushing herself back up to her elbows, groaning.
Clearly this is worse than either of them anticipated.]
no subject
[It's not as hushed a cry of concern as it should be. There's a sharp pain that tingles and lingers in his fingers afterward, like he's just been shocked. That feeling is familiar.
The horror in watching that same sharp shock send his companion across the room is the opposite of routine.
He's fairly certain his heart stops for a moment, but at least she's moving. He gives a wide-eyed glance back toward the door before he shuffles over.]
Are you--what happened?
no subject
I don't know. It --
[It's like the backlash from the Ultron sentries breaking through her shields, but worse. There's painful tingling in her hands that branches up through her wrists and forearms, and though the scarlet energy is ever-present, the pathways it travels are frazzled, confused. She is not a Force user, but she's close enough that these restraints would work on her.
Electricity has always been something of a weakness. Wanda might not have lost control of the Hulk if Clint hadn't shocked her first.]
I can't get you out. Not without the key.
[It almost hurts more to admit it than to have attempted it. She has more power than a human should by any rights be able to contain and still it's not enough for this one thing.]
no subject
[There's a fleeting moment of disappointment amid his concern, but he swallows it back. This is more than most anyone would have done for him had they been back on Tatooine, and not among others who treat slavery with the same gravity he could only hope the Republic would someday find the courage for. Yes, it's a disappointment that nothing changes, that he's left up to a mercy and control not his own.
But she'd come. That mattered.
He swallows back the rest.]
Wanda, whoever you're really down here for: find them.