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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
no subject
She happens upon Liquid when their respective owners get to talking shop. She recognizes him from the Moira, though they’ve never been formally introduced. A shame that they should have to meet like this. She takes in the collar and the shorts, not particularly impressed with his owner’s choice in attire. Zam’s not exactly one to be grateful to slavers, but she’s at least glad her own owners hadn’t made her wear anything so ridiculous. She reaches for her MID and types out a message.]
Don’t tell me they make you fight in that get-up.
no subject
He's been through enough torture to know when it's a good idea to listen, though. At least until he's sure of just what this guy can do to him.
He stands there, paying just the minimum amount of attention to his surroundings, trying to look intimidating and not bored, when he notices there's a message on the MID. He opens it immediately. His owner had tried to get rid of the MID, but found that he couldn't, and as long as Liquid just made it out to be a device for games, he was allowed to use it. Small favors. The message gives him pause.]
Once. Mostly I think it's just for promotional purposes. 'Look at our guy' or something. 'So good he doesn't need protection.' They didn't explain it to me.
[The time they'd made him fight like this, well, he definitely had some skills to show off, at least. He glances up to see who from the Moira's hanging around here. Oh, there's another fighter slave, and he's pretty sure he sort of recognizes her.]
Nice armour. I'm almost jealous.
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Thanks. I’d like it better without this though. [She turns, casually, to reveal the gaudy logo on the back.] Though I have to say, I prefer this to a collar. Or a brand.
no subject
[Listening to their owners talk doesn't reveal much in the way of information. In fact, it's incredibly dull. No one seems to be asking anything of him right now, at least.]
You see a lot of fighting, then? Sometimes I think they like showing me off more than actually letting me do what I'm good at.
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I see plenty. [She frowns as she turns back to face the crewman.] I wish I saw less. It’s not like taking out a mark where you know they probably deserve it. [It’s easy to turn off the little part of her that remembers that fact when she’s actually in the ring. But afterwards, when she’s alone with her thoughts, sometimes it’s all she can think about.]
no subject
Yeah, it's not so good in the way of morality but I've given up on that sort of thing long ago. If I've got to be here, I really wish they'd stop bloody parading me around constantly. [Killing's an inevitable part of what Liquid is, and at least he doesn't pretend it isn't.]
no subject
The next message doesn’t get her assent quite so easily.] Really? I prefer this to the actual fights. Less chance of being killed for the entertainment of some idiot slavers. Don’t tell me you actually LIKE showing off for those creeps.
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I'm not worried about being killed. [He's just gonna not-so-gracefully sidestep the whole 'showing off' thing.] I'm just used to fighting, I suppose. It's nothing I haven't done before. I mean. Beyond the particular circumstances.
no subject
And who were you fighting before?
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[Liquid's noticed his owner really gets caught up in discussions, so he's not too worried he'll find out it's not a game he's playing.]
I'm a soldier. It's all the same in the end, if you look at it a certain way.
no subject
[Zam is rarely in a position where she feels the need to argue for any sort of morality, but this seems fairly straightforward even to her. These aren’t criminals or crooked politicians they’re taking out. They aren’t marks. They’re just people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Killing them is… necessary, but there’s no thrill in it like there would be on a hunt.]
They’re just poor bastards who got picked off the streets like we did.
no subject
[Although at this point, not as much as he should be. But it's hard to really explain an ingrained apprecation for killing. Unless you're Snake. Typing out a speech'd be too much work in this situation.]
I just fight. A lot.
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[Stars, she sounds like some old Mabari cleric. But there’s a difference between having a taste for violence and enjoying it even in these circumstances. These slaver scum have forced enough on them without breaking them that much.
The sound of one of her owners calling her name catches Zam’s attention. She quickly drops her hand from her MID and looks over to where the man is gesturing for her to follow. Looks like the time has come to start prepping for the next fight. She looks back at her crewmate and gives him a short nod. Seems like they’re done talking for now.]
no subject
[He just leaves her with that, not having much opportunity to say much otherwise now that his owner's about to bring him along somewhere else. He lets out an inaudible sigh. Likely he's going to get caught up in yet another conversation, and he probably won't have anyone to talk with this time.
He'll be fine, don't worry. Probably.]