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

[wereperrito]

That sounds like an awful world. Or maybe it was just their part of it: rations had to come from somewhere, after all. The idea that the whole world Serph comes from might be virtual doesn't occur to him yet. "The vendor?" Jack repeats with a little frown, noting the feathery body language and guessing it's not a pleasant subject over-all, though certainly not why. "Who was that?"

[bufudine]

With a shake of his head, Serph replies, "It's a shop without a person. Every tribe that held territory had one."

He hands Jack back the bowl of porridge, almost all of it completely gone. Despite Serph's distaste for it, he won't waste what was given to him.

"My original world was... restricted. All this," Serph gestures around them, to the forest, their vehicles, even the pockets of blue sky glimpsed between foliage, "is new to me. But there were people."

Many, many more people. If he closes his eyes, he can still picture the orange lights of his original base, Muladhara, glowing bright against the neverending rain. The Junkyard had been a desolate wasteland, but... it was hard to think of this world as any more alive than that.

[wereperrito]

Jack accepts the bowl, holding it against his chest so he doesn't accidentally gesture with it and send the last bits of porridge splattering over the both of them. (He has done this in his past. He knows his tendency to gesticulate.)

"Well, I have lived in a very populated world with animals and people and food and such, for a very long time," he offers after a moment of trying to decide whether to address that aura of sadness. He decides not, just yet. "If you ever have questions I am happy to answer them as well as I can."

[bufudine]

Serph blinks slowly at the offer, eyes marginally widening in surprise. When Sera had been with them, he'd liked listening to her telling him about things he couldn't quite fully understand. Most of what she'd spoken of didn't exist in the Junkyard but he liked hearing about them all the same, their discussions soft and quiet between all the fighting, moments of gentleness in a land filled with harshness. The things Sera spoke of always sounded so fantastical but maybe those things existed in Nirvana, once upon a time. When he was with her, he felt...

...

He lets out a quiet exhale, wings relaxing before a smile curls at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like that." Folding his arms, he leans against the side of his vehicle. "Can you tell me a good memory of your world?"

[wereperrito]

"Oh. Oh, let me think." It's not that he doesn't have happy memories-- he has lots of them-- but he has to pick one! He taps his chin a moment, then decides, "When I was younger. Much younger, and smaller, I was I think ten years old." It crosses his mind to wonder if Serph's world even had children, but... surely it did? He doesn't clarify for now, anyway. "My little sister and I stole the village burro and tried to go on a joy ride through the forest."

He grins. "A burro is a bigger animal than a dog, with hooves and big ears that stick up. They're for carrying things and people. And they do not go very fast, but we were determined to have some fun and go fast anyway!"

As Serph guessed, he is even more animiated with hands-- and tails, and expression to boot-- when telling a happier tale.

[bufudine]

Ten years old... So that would make Jack a child at that time? He knows children are about that age, but... would that make Jack look like Fred and his friends? Children are kind of small and defenceless aren't they? Wasn't that dangerous?

He doesn't quite understand what Jack means by a joy ride and a burro sounds a little like a horse (which Akechi helpfully confirmed is a hornless unicorn), but he does understand that the memory makes Jack happy to recall. With the happier mood Serph quite visibly relaxes, the serious expression that he so often wears on his face softening.

But since Jack had mentioned he's much, much older... "How old are you?"

With his fragmented knowledge... by Gale's voiced definition he himself ought to be classed as a child, but Serph knows with absolute certainty -- and where does that determination comes from? -- that he isn't one. Roland and Adil were adults he's certain, but Cuvier somehow looked old even to his eyes. How long were humans expected to live, anyway?

[wereperrito]

"Hum? Oh. Well." Jack looks a bit sheepish. "A lot older than I look," he admits, though for all he knows, Serph's people live hundreds of years too. He wouldn't be surprised by much, at this point. "The curse makes werewolves age more slowly, if we aren't hunted and killed before we have the chance to live very long. I've lost count of the exact numbers, but I believe I have somewhere around two hundred years?"

[bufudine]

Serph blinks in obvious wide-eyed surprise, a rare unguarded moment. Two hundred years!?

His gaze flicks aside, thoughts whirling. Two hundred years... Jack had looked maybe in his thirties in his eyes, maybe Lupa's age? (But how does he know what 'in his thirties' looks like? And Lupa would have very definitely not been that old.)

He can't help but repeat, "Two hundred years," in a very small and quiet voice. That's a... long time. But more importantly, his gaze returns, sharp, "You are hunted?"

[wereperrito]

Jack shrugs a little, scratching behind one ear with his free hand somewhat awkwardly. It's not an easy subject, after all, and not one he talks about very often. "I am dangerous. If I do not lock myself up for my changes, I will try to kill people. I understand it. If people do not trust that I do not want to hurt anyone, that I do not have systems to keep me safe, they will try to kill me, first." He doesn't have to like it, but he accepts that it's the way his world is, and the way he has to interact with it.

[bufudine]

Serph lets out a long exhale, arms folding. He does understand it unfortunately. Anyone whose demon ran rampant, even when it was a comrade's, they had no choice but to kill or be killed. But to hunt outside of that...

"I won't let anyone hunt you here."

If there is even anyone out there that was alive to here, anyway. But if Jack isn't out of his mind, then there is no reason he should be hunted and killed. Even with the uncontrolled transformation, the gentleness of Jack's usual self is reason enough to want to protect him.

"Dangerous doesn't mean undeserving of life."

[wereperrito]

There have been people in the past who have been willing to protect Jack. There has had to be: he is only dangerous in his werewolf form, after all, and talking your way out of trouble only works sometimes. So it's not an unfamiliar feeling.

Not all of them have known what he is, though. That's a little more rare.

So it's still kind, and unexpected so soon after meeting a person, and he still looks down with an almost bashful smile. "Thank you. It is not always safe to tell people what I am. But even then not everyone is willing to-- to be understanding and to want to help." He doesn't ask that kind of protection of people.

[bufudine]

When Serph entered Nirvana, most knew what he was. But instead of being hunted, they wanted to use him for their own purposes. He had the power to reject such advances, the power to ignore the pointless words spat in his direction, the power to choose and kill all those who sought to eliminate him. He might have been dragged forward by a leash, but he could still bite the hand that held it.

Serph observes Jack's demeanour as he responds. What is it like to be dangerous and weak in the same breath?

"We don't choose how we're made." Humans, monsters, and everything else. "All we have are each other."

[wereperrito]

Jack nods more firmly, at that. "Yes. Yes, it's true, we have each other and I am glad we have each other. Heh. I would offer to protect you, but, well, I am not very good at that." He gives an expansive sort of shrug and a mostly-joking apologetic look. "I will have to settle for explaining things. And, maybe--" He considers, looking at Serph thoughtfully. "May I give you a hug?"

Jack has no idea if Serph knows what a hug is. He hopes so, but he'll explain if he has to.

[bufudine]

The smallest of wry smiles twitches at the corner of Serph's mouth when Jack says he wouldn't be very good at protecting him. It felt like it wasn't very long ago that Argilla was reminding him that he was irreplaceable, the constant wordless agreement of all who served under him that they would protect him with their lives. That duty had once been immutable fact, but only held value once it became a choice.

Serph blinks, caught off-guard by the request. Usually he's the one giving the hugs, not the person being offered one. All those times, they were usually spontaneous things rather than something where permission was sought. Though it doesn't show on his face, he feels strangely self-conscious all of a sudden, the top pair of his wings fluffing before they settle back down.

He's not sure why Jack wants to give him a hug, but... He stops leaning against his vehicle, unfolding his arms and holding them open wide. Sure, Jack can give him a hug.

[wereperrito]

Once he gets to the point where he knows you like them, Serph, there will be less asking, don't worry. Jack grins, pauses long enough to set his food stuff down, and then bounces over to wrap his arms around Serph's waist in a hug. It's either go over the wings or under the wings, and under seems safer, and also less likely to wind up with Jack having to stand on his toes to manage a proper hug.

He is, in fact, pretty good at hugs. He's had a lot of experience.

[bufudine]

It's different, hugging Jack.

There's no unspoken need for comfort that he feels the urge to meet. Just physical contact without an emotional pain that needs to be healed, hearts beating together in close proximity.

A warmth blooms in his chest and although Jack can't see it, a smile breaks across Serph's face as he closes his eyes and hugs him in return, hands settling on Jack's back. Even his wings curve around to envelop them both, tension leaching from his body as he relaxes into the hug, his usual baseline guardedness dropping completely.

He won't let go until Jack does.

[wereperrito]

Being able to lay his head on Serph's shoulder is nice, actually. And then there's wings and that is maybe one of the coolest things Jack has ever experienced. He's getting hugged by wings. This is, in fact, a first for him. He's met winged people before, but they never hugged him.

He stands within the embrace, most of his tails actively wagging now, one hand kind of idly petting the space between Serph's wings on his back, for a long couple minutes, until he thinks it would probably tip into weird. Then he loosens his arms a little as a prelude to stepping back, lifts his head, and grins up at Serph. "I think you are very good at that," he comments.

[bufudine]

When Jack loosens his grip, Serph likewise mirrors the action with his arms while he pulls his wings back

Serph glances aside at the compliment, awkward, but the smile remains on his face. It's a little uncomfortable hearing such an openly positive feeling directed his way, but in a pleasant way. He's reminded a bit of how Sera makes him feel, of how the others needed him to be strong but she needed him to be gentle, helping him realise there's more to life than just fighting.

They both make him feel like he can be a better person.

His gaze returns to Jack. "You are, too." He feels... good in a way he hasn't since his arrival. "...Thanks."

[wereperrito]

"Oh it was as much selfish as it was for you," Jack assures him with a slightly more impish cast to his grin. "I like hugs, you see. I like them even better from my friends." He pats Serph's shoulder, intending to imply Serph is officially one of those friends, and steps back again to collect the bowl and bag of cookie crumbles. "Though it was also somewhat for you. Everyone should have a little comfort in their lives, I think. Especially after a night like that."

[bufudine]

Comfort? He never really considered it as something to be directed towards himself. It always felt like something to give his comrades. It simply never occurred to him that it could be something given to himself. A thoughtful look crosses his face.

The night hadn't exactly been bad, at least on his scale of what a bad night can look like, but...

Serph nods before offering, "...You can have a hug whenever you want."

[wereperrito]

"You may regret that offer," Jack says, but he's mostly teasing, if Serph can tell that much from his amused and slightly rueful smile. "But thank you. I am going to take this back to the kitchen and go check on John, now, I think. I will see you again soon?"

Half a question and half an offer, there. He needs to cash in on those promised hugs.

[bufudine]

They're travelling in the same direction and by his standards, the Convoy is a small location. Seeing each other soon is largely an inevitability, in Serph's eyes.

Serph nods both in acknowledgement of Jack's question and in the direction of the porridge bowl before saying in parting, "Thanks," for the food. He will not eat the porridge again.

and wrap! whee

[wereperrito]

Spoil sport. Jack just grins a bit bigger. "You are welcome." And with that, he's off to check on John.