FEBRUARY EVENT LOG

[monstertruckers]

code

The Convoy begins a slow path through the forest, and a long road winding between the trees. The vegetation hangs thick overhead, with a perpetual state of dim light hanging over the surroundings. Sunlight and moonlight both have a hard time piercing the gloom. And alongside that is a sense of danger looming in the shadows.

01: DEPARTURE/MINGLE

Dawn arrives after a long and demanding night. As wane sunlight leaks through the forest, the forcefield flickers out. In its place, the Convoy hums to life. Engines thrum, breakfast appears in the dining car, and the speakers crackle with a pre-recorded, automated voice.

“The Convoy will depart in three hours. Please ready yourself for the trip. Secure your belongings, prepare your vehicle, remain as human as possible. End destination… Nirvana. Repeat, the Convoy will depart in three hours.”

The recording drones on a loop, before fading out in a crackle of static. Before departure there’s a few matters to attend to, some more pressing than others:
+Breakfast consists of bland porridge. Some might want better food, and with a decently stocked kitchen, one can make better.
+The showers have lost any hot water. Surely there’s some way to fix the heater or provide some hot water? Or otherwise grumble through a cold shower.
+There’s plant growth where the Husks have been felled. Flowering vines grow over the Convoy, and need to be pruned for departure. The foliage has an odd effect if directly touched, instilling wanderlust and curiosity. The affected feel compelled to wander… Or be curious about others!

02: HAUNTED GROVE

The trees grow into a tangle just a few paces off the road. They almost envelop the buildings, absorbing the structures until only the roofs are visible. The branches become more twisted, and almost arm-like when reaching out to you.

Vines hang like nooses from the trees. And a closer look shows moss ridden Husks draped in the branches. Still, those who ignore those ominous signs can find supplies growing and hanging from the branches; repair materials, and unnerving types of food like canned ham and frozen pizza.

And then… There’s the effect from staying in the shade of the trees for too long. There’s a lethargy that clings to you, even as it eases the changes wracking your body. Resting underneath the grove can heal a Drifter of one change, and leave them feeling soothed… But all of this is by design. The grove WANTS you to stay there and become a part of it, so that it can ensnare you with vines or absorb you into trees. It can restore Drifters, but if they stay there for too long they’re going to need some rescuing.

03: WRECK

There’s a collection of abandoned cars in the forest clearings. Some cars are better preserved than others, some even containing cargo, weapons, and ammo, with a possibility to scavenge equipment off them…

…If not for the traps, set around the wreckage in the form of steel jaw bear traps and snares. All of them are coated in something that leaves the vision blurry and sets hearts into overdrive. If exposed to too much of it, there’s suddenly a reason for that near panic; hallucinations of fears can easily flare up.

There’s also things prowling the wreckage on four metallic canine legs, with gleaming chrome teeth and red headlights for eyes. The guidance computers on nearby vehicles flash an alert as they draw close; identifying them as chromehounds, though these have seen better days. Dented, damaged, but still fierce enough. And still ready to pounce on anyone caught in the traps or drugged with fear toxin.

While the chromehounds can be dispatched, the fear toxin will have to run its course. Closer examination of the hounds and traps shows an insignia of a sword piercing the moon.

03-A: MONSTER NEST

Hostile beasts lurk in the woods. Many are cautious, nocturnal creatures that prefer to emerge at night, and hunt any Drifter who has strayed outside the reach of the Convoy forcefield.

A massive monster nest dwells in a crumbling, abandoned overpass in the middle of the forest. The Convoy does its best to give the area a wide berth, but it’s entirely possible Drifters might still stumble across it: particularly if some of the more annoying creatures like Great Jagras steal food and take it back to the den.

Many of the beasts make their dens in abandoned vehicles littering the overpass: Jagras and Slicemargl take up the better spots, while noxicaps and scavengers linger on the fringes. But the most territorial are the mutant bears, occupying the darker parts of the underpass.

04: SHRINE

The moon glows balefully overhead some nights. An eerie light glows across the sky, like a burning aurora that exacerbates any symptoms the Drifters have picked up this month. Sometimes the trees help to muffle this maddening light. But not always.

There is however a remedy that blocks out the light; dotted near the road or just off the forest paths are shrines carved from stone and wood. The aurora dims near these shrines, and offers breathing room. Small offerings dot the alters, and some are even medicines that can alleviate hallucinations, wanderlust, and the like.

But there’s a price for taking these offerings; the various candles dotting the shrines ignite, flames reaching for the intruder, and burn either a monster change, or a message into their skin. It’s equal odds which one a Drifter receives. The message fades in the span of the month, but offers cryptic words regarding the world, and can be logged in the Convoy database.

05: STASIS WARNING

Pockets of something… Wrong lurk on the road, or just off the path. Many of them are lined with Husks twisted into horrified expressions. Others are little more than a faint distortion and ripple in the air. But once a Drifter wanders into the pockets, the effects become all too clear.

The pockets are alarmingly still when stepped inside. This stillness tries to seep into anyone in the pocket, making them stiffen, their thoughts go sluggish and almost halt… But the Sigils on their skin dispel this before it can completely overtake a Drifter. Sigils disperse the field with explosive results; bursts of fire or electricity, surges of plant grown, rock explosions all burst as the field is dispelled.

The one warning for these pockets are strange symbols and the words ‘STASIS’ inscribed on rocks, trees, and signs around these pockets, warning about them. A couple crisscross the roads needed to take out of the forest. It seems that a Tough vehicle could easily wade in and survive the explosions of magic, while a Fast vehicle would be capable of outracing any trouble… While those on foot will need to hope for the best, or for fast healing.

06: RADIO HOUR

After several days of travel, and around nightfall the Convoy approaches a resting point ringed in Husks. It resembles a log cabin, with some unnerving traits; first, the trees near the cabin become more rigid and geometric, almost like pylons. Second is the large radio tower growing out of the cabin itself. Once the Convoy is in range, the radios, phones, and screens all crackle to life. Screens display a broadcasting logo, followed by an emergency signal drone. Astute Drifters can check the dates that pop up, and realize that this is an old recording.

“Attention, this is an emergency broadcast. Seek shelter immediately. A moon warp is imminent. Repeat, a Moon Warp is imminent. Impact: falling moon shards will cause destruction and distortions. Prepare by seeking cover inside shields. Those caught outside will be twisted. Seek shelter immediately.”

Outside the Husks pulse, and the broken moon shimmers. Several bright spots in the sky grow brighter… And larger, as shards of moon fall. The Convoy comes to a wrenching halt. A warning siren echoes, before the Convoy deploys its shield. Those inside are safe from the worst of the Warp, able to hide out in the Convoy. Nothing like a good time to bond with whoever you’ve been shut in with, right?

07: MONSTER HOUR

Those outside the Convoy will be in for a rougher time. The glow from the falling moon shards has a way of piercing into the brain and forcing a full transformation for as long as the Moon Warp lasts.

During the Warp, there’s plenty of trouble for Drifters. The Husks glow before bursting into a pack of violent, wolf-esque gryphons called Nargacuga, and a host of other beasts. These monsters favor scaling trees for dive attacks, or hauling Drifters up into the branches. But with their focus on the Drifters, the Nargacuga are easy prey for the chromehounds nearby, which pounce in a tangle and clash.

By dawn, the Warp has worn off. The Nargacuga are dead, while the chromehounds have been smashed. Transformed Drifters have two options in the aftermath; either they've burned off so much energy fighting they revert into an exhausted state. They will likely be suffering from disorientation and require rest, healing, and anchoring from others. Alternately, Drifters run wild ahead of the Convoy as something draws them north; they will have a chance to revert next month, in the Messages prompt!

07-A: MONSTER BRAWL

One particularly large and ferocious Nargacuga leads the pack of monsters… And seems to have a particular hatred for technology. He attacks the radio tower, doing his best to knock it down, and then strikes at the Convoy only to be deflected by the shields. Once he’s deflected, he vents his rage on the Chromehounds.

The radio picks up something from the lead Nargacuga each time he bleeds, and a patchy broadcast happens, with different fragments heard by different people:
1. “Serenith has ordered. I obey. Obliterate every trace of Wardens, cull their human flock. Justice for the packs they murdered.”
2. “Keep bleeding them until the moon Breaks, just like she ordered.”
3. “They gave me a place and a pack, where I could hunt.”
4. “Be ruthless. The Steel Wardens aren’t different, with the children they cull.”
5. “Hate… Loss… Blood. Always more blood.”

In its death throes the Nargacuga obliterates any remaining Husks, littering the area with quicksilver pools. Drifters must be careful around these pools, as contact with them will cause all pre-assigned monster traits next month to linger without special treatment.

MICRO ENCOUNTERS:

PLEASE NOTE! These are small bits of set dressing for players to include in threads if they wish, rather than full fledged prompts or events. You may handwave your exploration of these areas, or thread them out.

Radio Trees: A strange line of geometric trees leading towards the radio tower cabin. The closer a Drifter gets, the more they can hear faint music and old broadcasts regarding moon phases.

Hunting Grounds: An area of burnt out husks that have already burst open. There’s a few monster carcasses scattering the area, along with broken weapons and bullet casings. A symbol has been carved into the monsters, or a moon pierced by a sword.

Forest Flowers: A clearing that lacks the grasping trees from before, and instead is taken up by crystalline flowers. They give off a pleasant fragrance, and help to relax characters. Can be crushed into a medicine to help cure long lasting fear toxin effects.

Falling Trees: Drifters are advised to be careful of falling trees obstructing the road, and which may need to be hacked through. Granted, what’s knocking over the trees is another question entirely!

Lakeside: streams and rivers thread the forest, occasionally creating marshy areas. These rivers eventually feed into a massive lake that borders the radio tower cabin. The water is cloudy, and the bottom of the lake covered with the remains of destroyed chrome hounds: they’ve clearly been torn apart by the nargacuga prowling the area.

NAVIGATION

Comments

sick bay!

[hexrot]

[ it's definitely not jayce's first, or last. not when his state is absolutely abysmal. his steps are hulking and on the verge of staggering when his boots step into the sick bay, the pace of them uneven and irratic where his limp is pronounced. every other thunk is accompanied by the clicks and squeaks of metal bars and tightened cogs that make up his improvised brace. the shine of his skin is clammy and sticky against his mess of dull, tangled hair. jayce reaches for drawers and pulls them open, becoming a little more frantic when he can't find what he's looking for.

he doesn't want to bother the other man tending to himself, but he does end up asking, a low shake and pause in his voice: ]

Antibiotic, injections—

[taediosum]

[ Arcade jolts upright in his seat when those staggering steps startle him out of his silent fussing over his burn. He's quick to reflexively cover his arm, tugging his sleeve hastily down over tacky ointment. He's guarded, too, as he turns toward the stranger staggering around, rooting through cupboards and drawers. Staying out of his way seems like the best bet, even with that limp and that sickly pallor. Arcade's seen enough... determined sorts on too many similar hunts to want to intervene without backup.

So it's kind of an immense relief, actually, when the inevitable request for assistance (at least it isn't a demand) is actually - reasonable?

Arcade lets out a breath, holding up a placating hand as he slides the rest of the way out of his seat. ]

Hey, sure. I can help. How about you just have a seat and let me know what's going on?

[ Antibiotic is just a tiny bit vague, after all. ]

[hexrot]

[ jayce isn't gruff about receiving aid, neither is he exactly rude about company in general. he much prefers it these days, the solitude of an empty space felt like stepping on glass. the fracture of his psyche would not take kindly to being alone after enduring it for so long.

relief wrinkles the space between his eyebrows, and after a moment of glaring for a spot to sit somewhere without toppling over scattered seats, the man complies, making his way over by guilding himself against furniture and walls until a stool meets his clumsy lean. it clatters with his fall, but at least he's sitting, taking all the weight off his braced leg. ]

A doctor—?

[ not that a doctor would be able to fix what he had, but . . . maybe something palliative would suffice. ]

[taediosum]

Researcher, technically—

[ Like a reflex, as if he still has a complement of coworkers to conveniently redirect any wayward patients toward. His face falls a bit, as he looks away, briefly, with something like chagrin. ]

But I can do in a pinch.

[hexrot]

[ if jayce could offer some comfort, he would— but he can't seem to offer anything of value, right now that wasn't tired, heavy breathing. ]

Both of us, [ if he had the energy for it, his heh would be more prominent. different areas of research, but science was science. it dawns on him that he needs to remove his brace for any exams, but— that wouldn't change much. unless he'd really want to get a better scope.

jayce is sweating, looks clammy, shivers when he's still— his breathing is a touch labored, and on top of paleness, he is . . . very, very cold. his pulse is weak, but his heart beats like it's tring to work overtime, to compensate the problems.]

[taediosum]

[ Arcade can tell just from a look that he's profoundly unwell, and a quick touch to his wrist to check that thready pulse does nothing to allay his concerns. He hasn't felt the other Followers' absence more acutely since he woke up on that garage floor than he does, now, with no one to step in for him and handle this with a softer touch. ]

Really? You'll have to tell me all about it. [ Hard not to sound a little sarcastic. The guy can barely seem to string two words together, let alone catch his breath - and Arcade makes an effort to quell that reflexive glibness. ]

For now, though, it'd help if you could at least tell me when this started. Are you injured?

[hexrot]

[ jayce gives an ironic huff and a raise of his brows. he can barely speak. he probably won't be able to tell him sometime at all.

jayce would keep all the things he's been through private, and no one would know of his status with the arcane that has doomed him anyway. he didn't have to tell anyone. he was funtional enough to follow his own plans. none of that is happening right now. ]

Dying, since home, it just— wasn't supposed to be this fast.

[ jayce places a hand on his braced leg, offering a small rub against it. his leg would probably be the worst to look at under all of that; he offers his left wrist next, making a loose fist and flipping it up to expose the spiderweb veins surrounding the bead of a gem with a rune transcribed in it. it goes all the way up his arm under his sleeves, and invades his blood— but probably means little for modern medicine beyond a strange foreign body. ]

I just need— time. A little more time.

[ and doing nothing might just allow the process to run free. ]

[taediosum]

[ Arcade's answering grimace is almost a smile and almost certainly apologetic. There are a lot of reasons he doesn't deal with patients, typically, actually.

The look pales to a sickly shock that nearly rivals Jayce's as the other man shows off the extent of his - whatever it is that's killing him, though. Contamination, infection - it's not the poison or radiation he's accustomed to seeing ravage the human body, but the signs look similar enough for him to get the idea. Antibiotics makes a great deal more sense, considering. ]

Okay. Let's try to buy you some, then.

[ Shaken but not about to just step aside and tell him to deal with it on his own, Arcade goes to the cabinets, searching through the convoy's meager supplies for familiar labels. There are plenty he doesn't know the use case for - specific, he assumes, to things that only really pose a danger, here - but there's a small selection of generic medicines, as well. Nothing crazy, but enough to treat small maladies. Not like what he's apparently dealing with, here. A stimpak and a few syringes of Med-X would be better. Neither would really help, but... they'd be better. And probably go a great deal further toward making it seem like there's any extra time to be bought. ]

I'm afraid this is going to be a little bit experimental...

[ Guesswork with foreign drugs has to be, unfortunately. At least there are clean syringes (which luckily he's already had time to stop and marvel over, so it doesn't give him pause, now, as he prepares one). ]

[hexrot]

[ it might be best to keep his sleeve rolled if he's going to get pinpricked, so jayce does just that, all the way past his forearm. the veiny tracks go from a pinkish to a spreading blue, edges powdered with neon green once its past his elbow. the gold around the gem is wider than the last time he really sat down to look at it, he finds.

jayce forces a breathy, labored series of huffs that could only be an attempt at laughter. ]

All we ever do . . . Is experiment.

[ even if he doesn't regret doing it, it still caused his downfall— the world's downfall. they'd be cursed with curiosity and the rush of discovery and still look for that rush in their tests, in theories. jayce is leaning against the wall and slumping— just to rest through his laboring, and his shivering from the cold. ]

It won't be worse than, what I have now.

[taediosum]

An optimist. Always good to have in a test subject.

[ Not that he would know, honestly. The time Arcade spends in a lab is generally alone, with a bunch of plant samples and cracked beakers and mountains of useless notes. Any medicines he might help to eventually create won't be up to actual human trials until long after he's out of the research game altogether. (So rushing into this absurd, spur-of-the-moment trial-and-definitely-error feels almost blasphemous. Would, if he put any stock in that sort of thing.)

He grabs the mild antiseptic that he was using before, cleaning the worst bits of his burn, and a clean bit of gauze (both rare things that he takes excessive care with), and gingerly preps Jayce's arm, trying not to grimace just from the feel of that icy skin. At least he won't have trouble finding a vein; they're practically lit up technicolor from the inside. (And if this weren't completely horrifying, he'd be morbidly fascinated. Maybe he is, anyway.) ]

I'd say this might hurt, but in your state, I'm not sure you'll even feel it.

[ But he's sincerely hoping it won't, anyway, at least beyond the brief, professional administration of a couple of maybe helpful shots. Something for the pain and that labored breathing, something for the - infection. Neither one anything anywhere near strong enough to fight either more than momentarily. The sick bay simply isn't equipped to deal with such severe illness, and that's the one thing Arcade can't simply improvise his way through treating. If it were only a physical ailment he could brute force improvise his way through, maybe this wouldn't feel so hopeless. ]

[hexrot]

[ horrified and morbidly fascinated go hand in hand when you're an academic. jayce turns his head away so he doesn't have to see needles and keeps his arm still— whether he was shaking from the forsight and strain or the hypothermia was hard to say, but arcade was right about one thing! he felt the prick only as a brush; everything else hurt much more to make it any more than a ghost of an invasion much smaller than the one he's currently fighting.

it'll much work like the food jayce eats; it brings momentary relief. his heart slows down and his skin crawls with crescenting heat. the sweat that clings his hair to his face is there because he's heating up, and his breathing, some time after a few doses could finally slow down. he could slow down. it may not last long, but the relief was tremendous. their temporary remedy allows jayce's head to tip back, eyes closing to breathe in, wait, and breathe out. ]

I feel that. [ he sucks in the stinging he feels at the bridge of his nose. oh, relief. jayce was emotional at heart, but he makes the biggest effort not to let the stinging spread to his eyes. his more time simply involved too much. he busies himself with questions, and planning, instead. it was probably selfish and useless as hell to use what meager health supplies they had on a dead man, but.

he doesn't want to die. he'd go as far as to say he couldn't die yet. ]

. . . How much of those do we have?

[taediosum]

[ Arcade also lets out a breath, one he wasn't consciously holding, when it looks - at least for the moment - like he hasn't accidentally killed the other man, after all. Killed him that much faster than he's already apparently dying, anyway. (But he isn't callous enough to think that a mercy, when it's so clear Jayce is desperate to live, even just a little longer.)

He starts cleaning up the minor mess he's made, as if it's already rote, practiced behavior, his hands only shaking a little as he returns chattering vials to where he found them. ]

Not many.

[ There's no reassurance to offer, in that regard. The stock is barebones, and who knows how many fires there'll be to put out in the morning? Or the mornings after that. ]

How sure are you that there's no real way to stop this?

[hexrot]

[ would accepting that he's doomed beyond change make him weak? it'd mean he wouldn't be able to keep his promise, for certain— that he failed like countless other jayces. except he managed to fail much faster, somehow. perhaps not as bad as some who'd, perhaps, died in the ravine he managed to crawl out of. but it was still bad.

after a moment of hunched, staring into nothing, jayce shakes his head absently. and it'd be stupid to think he had a chance at all. ]

I'm certain. [ as certain as the sun would rise east. after a moment, jayce closes his eyes to breathe in, to rub his sweat greased face starting at the sunken eyesockets and rising to his temples. his limbs are heavy, a wrecked mess recovering from a marathon. ] I'll use what you've done wisely.

[ find someone who could give continuation to what he's looking into, then. and maybe viktor would forgive him for something so out of his control.

he can't take another one of those again when it could be for one of the kids— or even viktor himself. the doctor, yang— people who deserved and had a much bigger chance at living than he did. ]

[taediosum]

[ He doesn't expect different, at this point, but that answer still manages to take something out of him, stealing whatever little resolve that momentary success bolstered. It's not like it's the first hard case he's ever had stumble through, headed on a short trajectory downward, no brief stopgaps ever enough to make a difference. But it never stops sticking with him.

And it all seems especially cruel, under these circumstances. Even the junkies in Freeside had their few, spare creature comforts around them, when they shot up that cheap chem one last time. They knew where they were, and most of them probably knew, on some level, where they were going. But out here - a dying man is robbed even of that small mercy.

He feels sick, and his voice is thick with it - but he ignores that. Minds his own business. ]

If there's anything else I— I mean, if you think of anything else... You'll know where to find me.

[ He'll try to stick around, when they're not on the move. It's the best he can do, considering. ]

[hexrot]

[ it's a hard job, being a doctor. but it's assuring to have empathy. jayce sees traces of it as arcade sweeps it under a rug, to function— which is alright. it's a lot, especially for him. it's why he's already busying himself with the formulas he should be finishing.

he nods, saving that information for later. he knows he's not coming back. ]

Thank you. [ he means that. and he'd like to know his name, at least, before . . . anything happens. ] My name's Jayce.

[taediosum]

Arcade.

[ He offers it easily with a nod, though this, too, feels like a pointless effort. If there's nothing to be done, what's the good in a name?

Still. He isn't the type to kick a man while he's down, either. ]

Don't mention it.