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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
Dorian is more fashionable than most (and damnit dreamwidth!)
Either way, they weren't walking away from this without facing some obstacles and Dorian's fear was that there would be more than one or two scattered guards on patrol. As soon as the guns start shooting rounds, Dorian has his barrier up instantly, shielding himself and Nate from harm while Hawke cleaned up the mess. He's trying to avoid magic, but something is telling him that magic might be unavoidable, and Hawke seems less concerned about that than he does.]
Perhaps no one heard that? [What? Wishful thinking. Dorian wasn't known for his optimism so this was what approached positive. Of course one of their number had a hole in their stomach, he was being absolutely unrealistic. Concerned, mostly for her well being and partly for the fact that drops of her blood following them around would leave a trail, Dorian rifled around for another potion and physically deposited the bottle in her hand.] As much as I love dark and creepy we can't stay here, drink that and I'll give us a bit of light, shall I?
[Don't worry Nate, they'll get out alive.]
I THINK ADRIEN CAN FINALLY DO MORE THAN BLEED AND FEEL LIKE CRAP?
Hawke clearly has some issues to work out, and Nate respects that. He'd just really like it if she worked them out in a way less likely to get them all killed or imprisoned. Then again, considering what she just did, that still doesn't seem tremendously likely. They'll just worry about the whole "exposing the existence of the Moira" thing later.
The magic barrier thing is neat, at least. He wants to poke it but now's not the time.]
Doesn't matter if they heard us as long as they don't catch us. Let's find Adrien and get the hell out of here.
[And hey, once they've got the doc, maybe he can help with Hawke's brand new hole? Maybe not. Nate leads the way to the cells proper as if he knows where he's going.]
Doc? You here? This is more or less a rescue.
MULTITASKING!
Though Adrien had heard some noise just beyond his cell, he was fairly well locked into his own personal misery and mental processes at the moment. He was vacillating between the idea of yielding for the time being and more immediate escape attempts when he heard a familiar voice. ]
Fisher? [ No doctor, Drake. Whatever, he liked to call Nate, Fisher and it seemed safer to use a last name than a first name at the moment.
Though Adrien tried to call out the word, his voice was rough from
screamingthe lack of water, so the word came out as more of a croak. Trying to get a hint of moisture down his throat, Adrien called out again. ]Here!
i am so sorry I have had my reply sitting unposted for days...
Hawke sighs, straightens, and wipes some of the blood from her face. Not that it matters much seeing as her clothes, a ratty shirt and jacket, are splattered with it. She downs a vial of Lyrium Potion, makes a face, and then turns around.
Oh, hey Adrien, you're here. She gives him a quick glance, he does seem familiar at least, before yelling down the hall.]
Is this the guy?
don't be sorry, my allergies have me in a near comatose state
I'd say less a rescue mission and more of an exercise in survival with a rescue thrown in. [He looked expectantly at Nate, because while Dorian could do miraculous things with magic he could not pick a lock. Oh sure, he could probably ice the door off of its hinges, but Adrien was in there.] If you can pick the lock I have another potion, he looks as though he's a pressing need.
[Dorian might seem laid back, but he's definitely concerned. His experiences in the south and on this world so far have taught him a great deal about the inadequacies and monstrosities of slavery. A plus considering his prior mentality.]
no subject
[As far as Nate's concerned, survival is the only victory condition here. Everything else is a bonus. All right, survival and having the use of four functioning limbs.]
I don't know how to pick locks. [What, do you think he's a thief or something?] But there's another way.
[Subtlety is out the window at this point. He pulls out his gun and shoots out the lock, then moves quickly to throw the cell door open.]
Hey, doc. We've got you.