MAY EVENT LOG

[monstertruckers]

code

Out of the thorn brush, the land still looks twisted and broken. And it turns a lot more jagged as rocks burst up and out of the ground like teeth… And keep reaching upwards, in defiance of all the gravity that should be pulling them down. The further up the rock spires reach, the more they splinter until the stones are free floating. The same happens to the threadbare trees, their branches and leaves breaking off and hovering in empty air. The nature of this place becomes clear: reach too high, and eventually gravity gives up.

01: BATTLE GROUND

The ground grows rougher, pockmarked with craters and rents, like the landscape is scarred. A little further up the road is the source of those wounds. Curious Drifters will find a tangle of rock and metal reaching high up to the sky. It’s a snarl of wrecked vehicles, rock spires… And bodies.

Robotic hunters are half melted into the bones of a giant monster, and the lights have long since gone out of their lens eyes. Many of them still clutch weapons; swords, guns, and bullets by the bag-full. The hunters and weapons remain locked with the corpse of a horn crowned monster with arm length teeth, and it’s clear this tangle is the only thing that keeps the hunters or their weapons from floating off. Drifters can potentially loot the weapons… They just have to be careful about not floating off while they salvage equipment. The footing here is uneven, and the ground looks ready to break with a wrong step.

These hunters also carry prayer screen beads, but the data on them is horribly scrambled. Any attempts to tamper with them cause them to repeat a single message: “I STILL LIVE” before shorting out and shutting down.

02: HEALTH INVERSION

A building grows out of the valley; a hospital that has been turned upside down, and its foundations reach for the sky like weird tree branches. The hallways inside are all sorts of twisted up, and the building can’t seem to decide if Drifters should walk on the ceiling or the floors.

Twisted as the building is, ruins gutted by time and overgrown with vegetation… There is salvage available. Medical supplies, healing potions, healing herbs, all of it is bountiful in the hospital. The hospital is also rife with Husks, but all of them are inert… Or have already been broken apart long ago.

Then there’s the matter of the hospital screens flickering on in the wake of the Drifters. Warning lights try to flicker on, as old electronics try to scan the Drifters. The machines give up flickers of data, declaring Drifters to be “infected.” The old restraining systems of the hospital are still active, as manacles and straps alike shoot out, trying to restrain Drifters. The bonds keep them inert until they can be sedated and enclosed in what look like holding pens for violent patients. Best hope there’s someone around to help break a Drifter out.

03: SHARED THOUGHTS

The valley is overgrown with strange plants that glow with eerie light. Sometimes in camp stray glowing tumbleweeds roll through… And any contact has interesting side effects. Drifters will find they’re more aware and capable of picking up on unsaid things. These powers can the month. Each glow confers different abilities:

Blue Glow: Makes Drifters more empathetic in a psychic sense. They can register the emotions of those nearby, and may start to feel those same emotions.
Green Glow: Makes Drifters capable of projecting their emotions to other people.
Purple Glow: Gives Drifters telepathy, to hear and send thoughts to others.
Orange Glow: Grants Drifters limited psychometry. (Object reading.) Using it in the hospital or the battleground will yield unique visions and messages. Please comment to the mod/NPC thread below if your character wishes to do so!

Drifters can stack these effects, but this can overload their minds and force transformations. Those with Swarm traits will find it easier to handle psionic abilities. Additionally, ALL DRIFTERS who experience psionics will find themselves susceptible to Events 4 and 5.

04: MONSTER SHIFT, HIVE-MIND

Worryingly, extra contact with the glowing plants can not only stack mind abilities, but also force Swarm traits. The more a Drifter is overwhelmed by psionics, the more likely this is. Drifters will have access to all Swarm traits for this event, and the following:
+Psi Hunger. A need to eat psychic energy in the form of dreams, psi-infused objects (like sage brush) or even psychic minds.
+Psi Senses: luckily, Drifters can glimpse heavy psychic energy in the brush through enhanced senses, and pick out strange brain monsters. These are good eating for Swarm monsters… And there’s an unnervingly high number of them.
+Group Mind: compelled to link thoughts with other Drifters, to share emotions, memories, and achieve cohesion.
+An increasing reliance on telepathy/empathy/etc in place of speech.
+Increasing collectivist mindset. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few; this becomes more evident during high stress situations.
+Compelled to spend more time in the wilds, absorbing power from plants and hunting prey in wilderness. May also be compelled to share this prey with others.
+Gravity Affinity: If possessing wings or the ability to wall climb, may freely hunt/traverse corrupted gravity areas.

05: WHAT DREAMS MAY COME

On several nights the wind picks up, and sage brush is uprooted and sent tumbling into camp. The plants trade their prior glow to something more baleful and crimson. With the wind whipping through the camp, it’s almost impossible to avoid unless a Drifter is already secure in the Convoy.

The effects aren’t immediately obvious, until the Convoy sleeps for the night… And that sleep is different. Namely the sleep is connected, showing both memories and dreams from other Drifters.

Memories from their pasts can blend together to form a strange dreamscape, that connected Drifters can travel through. But those dreams can easily turn into nightmares. Those who were exposed to the fear toxin in February will trend towards nightmares and may have their old fears make a reappearance.
If those nightmares are vivid and unsettling enough, they can force a transformation. (This may be either current monster traits, or a Swarm monster!) And then…

06: BRAIN ATTACK

It happens just before dawn, during the blue hour… Or perhaps it might be more apt to call it the red hour, with how the sky is stained crimson. It’s just bright enough to distinguish something moving in the hills. Drifters can pick out a rustling in the brush; something that isn’t wind. There’s something moving, crawling on claw tipped legs… And looking less like sage brush and more like a brain.

The Intellect Devourers numbers in the hundreds. Their claws scour the ground as they race towards the Convoy and smash into the shield. Numbers start to overwhelm the generator, along with the chaos the brain brush has sown with their psychic echoes.

The psychic echoes increase as they swarm the campsite, trying to drive Drifters into a frenzy with nightmares, fears, and strange visions. The brains are also ready to use those long sharp claws to tear anyone disoriented enough into ribbons, and start feasting on them.

06-A: BRAIN BRAWL

Hallucinations: The Intellect Devourers try to whip up more terrifying visions. Anything to disorient the entire Convoy, or drive the Drifters into a madness that leaves them transformed and too wild to easily counterattack. These hallucinations may be past trauma, or something a Drifter fears happening; the ultimate goal is to leave Drifters panicking, changed, and vulnerable.

Rally: Still, there’s one thing the Devourers didn’t anticipate: and that is how sharing a mental link has given the Drifters an anchor with each other. With all the psychic echoes spreading through the camp, any and all mental links from before can easily flare back up. Drifters who have shared dreams or some form of mental connection may still transform, but their mental link can keep their minds stable and coherent instead of growing feral.

Scars: Whether through brute force battles or mental link resistance, eventually the Convoy is able to shrug off the attack… But there is still some damage done. The shield generator has shorted out, and the Convoy itself has taken a few gashes and gouges. Not to mention any transformed Drifters will still need to be talked down. Luckily the mental links are still in place to help with that, and there’s a truck full of medical supplies to help with patching up any hurts.

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.

Disorientation: When wandering through the brush, Drifters may experience a swarm of disorientation: their thoughts suddenly scramble, they forget where they were going or what they were doing. They may also come to with a set of gashes along their legs, and a sense that they may have seen something in the sage brush move… Or maybe it was just the wind.

Float: Occasionally, parts of the road just give up their hold on the ground and go drifting skywards. Hopefully those chunks of road don’t take Drifters and their vehicles with them. Tough vehicles can likely survive the drop, while Fast vehicles can speed away before they float too far upwards. Drifters caught outside their vehicles will have to hope they have fast reflexes… Or are either good fliers or good jumpers for the leap back down.

Raining Down: On occasion, gravity will flicker and warp oddly… And that means that other odd things can fall where they used to float; rocks, plants, not to mention the odd bit of hardware and buildings. Watch for falling objects of various shapes and sizes!


NAVIGATION

Comments

V - Songs for the Dusk OC | Weretiger (+ Swarm/Thri-Kreen) (CW: BUG TRANSFORMATIONS)

[constantvrunning]

((And as usual, please check V's pinned post on their journal for Permissions/Opt-In/General Opt-Out! Thanks.))

GENERAL CATCHALL (At the Convoy)

Due to certain events, V is spending more time around/driving alongside the Convoy instead of in front than they do normally. They do not hover in the Huskified SecUnit's room; that would be going too far. But they do come up with excuses to stay close, and can often be found tinkering with various salvaged supplies, trying to build a smaller and simpler version of M-Bot (who is also staying closer to the Convoy than usual).

Come by and chat, offer supplies, or ask why on Earth SecUnit's weird Husk is still here. They may not have answers, but due to certain other changes this month, they're not inclined to give up on someone who's downed that they actually know.

OUT AND ABOUT (Physical Changes)

V does eventually go hunting, and the Intellect Devourers count enough as 'simple prey' that the Synth starts favoring them.

And then come the side effects: the wings are the most painful, naturally, and take some time for V to learn how to really work them. But they can glide, with effort, and since their own monstrous hybrid form is strongly-built, they can carry another Drifter if someone gets stranded.

The extra eyes aren't so much painful as distracting... but they integrate with V's overall functionality quite well. Not that they have much time to worry, because:

Telempathy. The sage brush, originally just a possible good source of fuel for fires, quickly becomes a habit - and with that habit, V's psionic abilities grow stronger. Feeling other's feelings, talking to them without speaking - the former is new, but the latter is surprisingly addictive in its own right. They could get used to this, if allowed to.

On the other hand, certain psychological changes mean that a cat-bug may be bringing your character food, as part of a well-meant check-in. It might still be fresh.

WARRIOR OF THE MIND

As aggressive as V can be in a fight, it is easier for them to reach and hold on to other Drifters than it is for them to be on the front lines.

For once, they stay within the Convoy. And (probably also for once) that doesn't really matter, not when so many demons being unleashed are mental.

You may find V - mentally projecting as their normal Synth self, or a large black cat, rather than the more buggy shape they've taken on lately - in your mind, lending a hand or a claw.

DREAMSHARE/WILDCARD

V is, as far as they're aware, mostly at peace with their current situation... but then there is the past. Drifters ending up in V's dreams will find hard times: of strict mental and physical conditioning, of a people at war with seemingly everyone, of an enforced hierarchy where you never meet the people at the top, and hope you never will.

Or, harder still, times when you're the only one left standing: people who had tried to help you are scattered around, dead, and only chance is why you're alive, untouched. You and one other.

Or they are in your dream. What will they see there?

Jolie Harmony | Odd Thomas | Fae

[mytearsaremine]

I. Battle Ground

The floating islands of rock and debris earn a lot of staring out of Jolie, leaning on her car and squinting up at them. So do the glowing bushes, which she approaches with wariness but no fear, and an expression of listening intent, and the occasional whispered word and hand brushing leaves.

But the random floating rocks and plants get turned into target practice, as well as ammunition. Find her collecting stones, bullets, and bits of debris and setting them into her makeshift slingshot, aiming at the floating and sometimes falling items, trying to get better at actually hitting what she's aiming for. There's a determination in her since the moon warp, and her first physical changes in her golden eyes and tendrils of green spreading across her face, to get better.

She maybe even tries hitting things with her fists when they fall, or when she misses them with her slingshot ammo and they land close enough to take out her frustration on. This more often than not results in her shaking out her hand with a muttered, "Ow." Anyone close enough might feel a bit of phantom pain, and frustration, emanating from her.


II. Health Inversion

"Oh wow," Jolie says, staring at the upside down hospital building. She can recognize it for what it is, even flipped over like that, and she parks her car outside immediately to make an attempt at exploring.

They could use any supplies in there, but also... she feels more comfortable with a roof over her head. The dim, plant-glow-lit corridors feel more homey than the open sky does, more safe. She prowls through the hallways, climbing things that, if she thought about it, she probably wouldn't actually be able to climb to get to drawers and cabinets on the former-floor of the hospital.

"Come on you stupid drawer," she growls at one of the desks she's struggling with, standing almost perpendicular to the "ground", half in a gravity warp and half making use of a swarm trait she doesn't realize she has yet. "I know there's something good in there, or you wouldn't be so stuck. Hey!" Looks like she noticed someone else come into the room. "Hey, come over here and help me open this!"


III. What Dreams - CW for loss of bodily autonomy

Jolie's dreams are a wild mish-mash of horror tropes that don't seem to actually scare her, and perfectly normal things that carry a terrible sense of forboding. The sunny sky, the friendly-looking diner, and an average two-story home are full of echoes of screams and curses as you try to traverse them. The dark tunnel with the rumble of traffic overhead, the humming sphere that drifts across the rocky landscape from the battle ground in Revan, and the six-fingered, tusk-faced alien corpse that sits up and pats the blanket folded next to it in invitation when you approach it all feel safe and comfortable.

Jolie is running through each of these settings in her dream that you stumble into. Try to catch her, if you can, and see whether you get the real her or the not real her.


IV. Shared Thoughts and Swarm

In the evenings, when the cars all stop, Jolie parks soonest and skuttles out of her car unhappily. The intense press of minds around her is driving her mad, she thinks. It's like she can feel and hear every single person, and hates it. Surely they can all feel her, too, feel her awfulness and rage and fear.

So she disappears into the sage, or the tunnels of the nearest building, soaks up being alone, sitting with only the plants, sometimes climbing up onto a floating piece of rock-- don't ask her how she did it, she just did-- and sitting above the ground. No one can get to her there, right? She's alone now, right?

Please come prove that she's wrong.


V. Brain Brawl - CW loss of emotional control?

Jolie doesn't have a form to transform into yet, her changes are still too new and unsettled, and many of them are only mental. But she does have a very strained mind, after the dreams, after the layered psychic powers, after the constant chatter of the sage plants and other people's brains. The swarm of intellect devourers is just too much, and she starts swinging wildly with her bare fists or with a makeshift club at the brain monsters, at friends who get too close, at stationary cars that look like alien monsters to her, screaming wordlessly and projecting a chaotic terror all around her.

She'll need someone, or a series of someones, to anchor her mind and calm her down. Hopefully someone not too susceptible to being hit on the head with a chair leg.


VI. Post-Brawl

When the swarm of brain-monsters is defeated and everyone has mostly calmed down, Jolie just curls up in the back seat of her Oldsmobile and tries to pretend none of that just happened. She feels raw and on fire at the same time, but emotionally, not physically. (Well, also a little physically. She's in good shape, but hitting cars and monsters and people repeatedly in a frenzy of fear is not really good for anyone.) And she stays there all day, even if the convoy tries to move along without her.

(It probably won't. It's likely everyone will need a day to recover from that.)

"Go away," she tells anyone who gets too close to her car, as soon as the lingering psychic awareness tells her they're there. Are you going to listen, or try to keep her company, anyway?

Jack Russell | Werewolf by Night | Yokai

[wereperrito]

I. Battle Ground

Jack is a smart salvager, when it comes to weird gravity and floating cars and, well, floating bodies. He has a length of rope tied to one ankle, the other end in the hand of a friend, or possibly tied to his van if no one is around to help out. He has more rope tied to his wrist that he can loop around whatever he's climbing on, so if gravity reasserts itself or something breaks, he has a safety.

And so, safely tethered, he scrambles up onto the bits of salvage to dig around, looking for anything useful, whether it's useful for him or for anyone else. "Here, do you think anyone might be able to use this?" he calls down to his partner, or anyone passing underneath, holding up a slightly-bent blade. "I'm not sure if the balance will still work at this angle...."


II. Creepy Hospitals are a No

Jack makes one foray inside the upside-down hospital, during which he spends a good hour shackled down and maybe hyperventilating a bit as the manacles try to drag him towards what is very clearly a cage until someone gets in to set him free (feel free to be that person, friends). Cages are one of the things he does truly fear.

After that he pointedly sits outside. "I will watch everyone's cars," he says to anyone asking. "And set traps so I can make everyone some dinner tomorrow." And, if pressed, he adds, "I am not very good in dark underground places." Which is only true when those dark underground places come with shackles and cages, but it counts for this dark underground place, dammit.

Though he will ask anyone going in, "See if you can't bring out some of those manacles and chains, though? That might be useful."


III. What Dreams

When they're out in the open, parked under skies full of floating rocks and cars and monsters, Jack's dreams are full of open, natural spaces and freedom. He runs on all fours, furry and tongue-lolling. He's a true wolf full of the joy of running with the pack and scenting on the wind, not a wolfman full of rage and hunger.

He does still have six tails, though, and a hint of phantom fire around his amber eyes, and his blue-gray fur is streaked with white just like his hair, marking him as clearly Jack. He might chase you, but it will be to pounce and lick your face, tails wagging excitedly.

When they're parked by the hospital, Jack's dreams are full of cages and locks and deep echoing howls. He's chained to a wall, he's locked behind a heavy door, he's curled in a corner of a jail cell. There's a sense of time, of claustophobia, of finality. He is never getting out. He knows he's never getting out.

Maybe a kind soul wandering into his dream will change that particular story.


IV. Brain Swarm

Jack has been only minimally affected by the sage plants and swarm traits, feeling more of a pull towards pack than hive and only a light empathic awareness, but he's moved through a lot of dreams and made a lot of connections, so he's a solid mental anchor for anyone who needs it. He doesn't do much to the intellect devourers themselves, maybe a kick now and then to get them away from an overwhelmed Driver, but what he does do is run fearlessly up to anyone who seems confused, upset, or under fire from the monsters, grabbing their hand or shoulder, providing something real.

"It's okay," he says, gripping firmly, until and unless the Drifter tries to shake him off. "You're okay. I've got you."


V. Post-Swarm Care

"I am very glad I have been catching a lot of wildlife out here," Jack comments, mostly to himself, as he moves from car to car carrying a pot of stew in both hands and a satchel full of bowls in another. "I was able to make a full pot. Here," he tells anyone who has been dealing with hallucinations, psychic trauma, and brain-monsters, setting his pot down and dishing out a bowl full of still-hot stew. "Have some of this. It will help."

Faith Lehane | Buffyverse | Dullahan (CW for some gore and nightmares. Also very probably smoking)

[definitionofcrazy]

I. Now am I their song,

[Faith will be having run-ins with the glowing tumbleweeds and, as you'd expect, she's going to be having A Time dealing with the aftereffects. She's not big on sharing feelings as a rule, bear with her on this one. At any time, she might be affected by the blue light or the green light.]

(ooc note: If you want Faith to be under the effects of the temporary psychic abilities in the battlefield, the hospital, or the convoy, let me know!)

II. There is no healing of thy bruise; (CW: Dismemberment of a corpse)

[There's nobody to fight, and fighting is Faith's preferred form of therapy, so she's settled for making herself useful: She can be found salvaging useful things from the hospital and the battlefield.

In the hospital, she has no idea what's most valuable, or more than a basic idea of how to use most of it. She's just grabbing as much as she can carry and stuffing it into a cheap duffel bag. When the screens identify her as infected, it has a visible effect on her mood, and she begins idly resting her hand against her pocket or running it over the scarf cinched tightly around her neck. Unfortunately, she's not as fast as she was back home, and while she's mostly adjusted to that here, she's still not able to avoid all the restraints. She might need a rescue. Or, alternatively, she might be the one rescuing you.

On the battlefield, it's mostly weapons- particularly ammo rather than the guns themselves- and the scattered cigarettes she can find. Fortunately, even without her slayer reflexes she's athletic enough to compensate for the gravity shifts and strong enough to help anybody who's not, so don't worry- you're not gonna drift away on her watch. She does seem a little bit cheered up when she picks up a proper sword, and she's actually visibly excited when she finally finds a wrist-mounted crossbow on one of the cyborg corpses... that is, until she realizes that it's not coming off.]

...Figures.

[She seems annoyed rather than upset or disgusted as she pulls out her signature knife and starts unceremoniously sawing the limb off to get at it.]

III. My spirit was troubled to know the dream.

[When the nightmares come to the convoy, Faith will certainly not be immune to them. She has a vast and dizzying catalogue of nightmares to choose from, if one's in the market for fresh horrors. In some, she's being pursued- it might be by a grotesque figure with a disfigured eye, a priest who can't seem to stop mocking and joking, a handsome man (though he might have something wrong with his face), or even a petite blonde who doesn't seem like she should inspire the fear from Faith that she does- she might even be pursued by a younger, more erratic version of herself.

Alternatively, she might be the pursuer, unrelentingly chasing your character for some reason. Other scenarios include falling from the top of a building, a wound from her neck bleeding uncontrollably, being dragged into the water by the corpse of a man in a suit, or making a bed with that same blonde girl when the latter abruptly stabs her in the gut with her own knife.

Or she might wind up in your nightmare instead, or a completely new nightmare altogether! It's a dream, baby, the sky's the limit.]

IV. Trouble and anguish

[Faith likes to be up front and center in case of danger, as a rule. Normally, this is probably a good thing- she seems to have an affinity for killing monsters. (It's almost like it's her destined role or something.) However, when the intellect devourers attack, her being out front and center is more of a hinderance than a harm. It doesn't help that she's under the effects of both blue and green light when it happens- but let's be real, this was always going to hit her where it hurt.

She tries to fight them, she really does, but it takes no time at all for the combination of psychic noise and hallucinations to wear her down, and she's going to collapse hard. If you're lucky, she'll simply go catatonic. If not... well, sometimes she gets stabby when she panics.]

V. Wildcard!

(Don't see anything you like? Have something specific in mind? Feel free to hit me up in DMs or on plurk at yonfellow)

blake belladonna | rwby

[andnevermore]

✘ ⸻ battleground

[ As the lands that they drive through start to turn rocky and strange, Blake's feeling a little better than she has the past couple of months. Driving is a little more difficult now -- two massive bat wings sit mantled at her back, black and deep purple, slits cut in her jacket to accommodate them -- but her back doesn't hurt anymore beyond the healing of wounds where Yang had had to cut her wings free, and her bloodlust is better managed now.

Perhaps she should have known that a bright spot on the horizon just meant more havoc in her future.

She hadn't thought much about the plant with the orange glow. It had made her fingertips tingle a little, but not much more. And now, as she wanders what can only be the fossilized remains of a battleground, its affects are about to be made apparent. Some giant monster's bones lay in the cracked dirt; Blake picks her way through robot corpses and scattered weapons, shading her eyes with her hand as she looks up to the floating mounds of rock above. She finds herself stopped in front of a mechanical person half-melted into a massive rib bone, their arm extended with a dark-bladed dagger clutched in their fist. Blake gently pries it loose, but as soon as she has a firm grip on the hilt--

She staggers back. She sees: a mechanical soldier striding toward a wall of monsters. A tangle of wings and claws and horns, people barely clinging to their humanity. Some are praying to the moon, others are just watching it hopefully. In their fists are clutched pendants, a weeping eye above a moon. Blake blinks, and the vision vanishes, but she's left on edge, bat wings half-spread in defense, white-knuckling her grip on the dagger. A footstep behind her has her whirling, brandishing the knife, expecting monsters-- but she drops her hand as soon as she sees another Drifter. ]

Sorry. I just saw... [ Blake exhales a frustrated sigh, ears flat. ] You'd think I'd be used to random visions by now, but I guess not.

✘ ⸻ what dreams may come

[ When they stop for the night, Blake chooses to sleep in the back of her van. The wind is a lullaby against the windows, sage brush tumbling against the van's wheels, and she drops off into sleep faster than she'd expected, curled up under her scavenged blankets.

A nightmare takes hold of another Drifter.

You're on the floor of a school building, fire creeping up the walls. Monsters roar outside, rattling the windows; the screams of terrified people echo through the door, the sounds of dozens of feet running. A man stands over you. Red hair dark in the firelight, black bull horns swept back from his face, a white monster's face mask covering his eyes. Your face hurts where he hit you, knocked you to the ground. You feel so many things when you look at him: guilt, fear, the bitter remains of love.

All I want is you, my love, he drawls, stooping over your fallen body. And as I set out upon this world and deliver the justice mankind so greatly deserves, I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love. A blonde appears in the window, shouting your name, looking for you amidst the chaos. Yang. Adam's lips curls into a smile under his mask. Starting with her.

Before you can hope to do anything, he draws a red blade, and stabs you in the abdomen. You cry out with the pain, and it draws Yang's attention. She whirls. You murmur no, please, reaching out for her. She screams. Her hair catches ablaze with golden fire, fury written on her face. She leaps, lunging for the man, fists first.

His blade flashes. Her arm shears off above the elbow. Yang falls.

What do you do? ]

✘ ⸻ brain brawl

[ After that nightmare, Blake doesn't sleep for a long time. The next night, she finds herself patrolling the convoy as it rests for the night, wandering at the edge of the shield. Her bat wings are looped close around her like a mantle, expression troubled as she walks.

It doesn't take long for her to notice the rustling in the distance.

Before she knows it, the weirdest little monsters she's ever seen are hurling themselves at the barrier, like brains on legs, horrible little skittering things that are threatening to overwhelm the shield. Blake plants herself next to the nearest Drifter, short katana in one hand, wings spread wide to shield any other Drifters behind her. ]

If you can fight, stick with me! [ She raises her voice to be heard about the noise. ] If you can't, get behind me, and get inside the cars.

✘ ⸻ bonus track: emo metal

[ In a pocket of peace after the attacks, Blake winds up sitting on top of her campervan, legs dangling against the mural that Yang painted on it. Despite the rugged surroundings, the spraypainted mural of the sexy big-booba ninja versus the sexy big naturals wizard has held on surprisingly well. Blake still thinks it makes her campervan look like she sells shrooms out the back of it, but she's become fond of it now.

The night is calm. Big rocks are floating in the background. And My Chemical Romance's Welcome to the Black Parade is playing on her stereo. Blake half-smiles at the person that approaches. ]

If I was still fourteen, this would be my new anthem. I would have found my soul's soundtrack. [ There's a laugh buried under her words. ] Isn't it great?

The Lone Wanderer || Fallout 3 || Werewolf || CW: Mentions of Murder and death

[wasteland_101]

Need the Scrounger Perk

[Ammo. Its something that they were going to need. Angel only had 2 of her guns with her, but she was going to need ammunition for them. And she could trade ammo with others for things that would be helpful. She moved a lot slower than she normally would, as she didn't want to make a mistake and start floating away.

So for now, she's going to be going after any ammunition that she can. Bags are being tied to her belt to be looked through when she is at a safer spot. Feel free to join her in scrounging or watch her as she almost looses her footing once or twice.]


Welcome to Vault 101


[It always starts the same. A familiar female voice practically yelling at her to wake up. Angel sits up on the hard bed of her room in Vault 101 and looks up at her only friend in the vault. Amata looks panicked. There is an alarm blaring, making it hard to hear what's going on. ]

What's going on Amata?

You've got to get out of here. If they find you here, I don't know what will happen. You're dad is gone and...Jonas...

Wait. Jonas is dead? Dad's gone?

[The other woman continues to ramble on about how this man, Jonas, supposedly helped Angel's father escape the vault and now he's coming after her. Amata urges her to go as she tries to explain about how Angel's father escaped the vault and that the Overseer thinks she helped and now Angel has to go as well or she'll be killed.]

I also took my father's pistol. Here. take it. I hope you don't need it but...

Go. I'll see you at the door.

[Angel swears as she grips the pistol and watches as her friend run out of her room. Angel swears under her breath before heading out into the halls. She hears the skittering of radroaches that got in when her father escaped.

It only takes a couple of shots to put an end to the bugs. She then hears someone call out.]

Stop!

I'm not going to the Overseer.

[There's the sound of a gunshot and Angel jumps. The shot missed, but she's lifting the pistol and taking aim herself. She pulls the trigger, her shot hitting the Security officer in the throat. Her eyes are wide as the officer crumples to the ground and she begins to head out. The familiar corridors empty and eerily quiet, save for the blaring of the alarm.]

Shit. Shit. Shit.

[Welcome to Vault 101. On the worst possible day ever.]


Brain Brawl - Werewolf Transformation

[Angel had a lot of trauma. She has seen a lot of shit in her years in the wasteland. Not all of it good. She takes a few shots at a few Intellect Devourers. They were like nothing that she had ever seen when she was back home. However, she heard things that made her stop and spin around.]

Run!

[Her blue eyes went wide. That was her father's voice and James was dead. A radiation overdose.]

Dad?

[She shook her head. No. James was dead. There wasn't any way that he could still be alive. She then heard another voice. This one not as deep as the first. With a different accent.]

You're a traitor to the United States government. You know what happens to traitors, don't you?

[This second voice caused a low growl to start in her chest. Her head whipped around, a feral look in her eyes.]

Where. Is. He?!

[Her voice was a rough growl. it was starting to get harder to hold onto her pistol with her fingers becoming claws. Something wasn't right. Colonel Augustus Autumn was also dead. She had personally put a bullet into his skull. She wasn't thinking straight. First the nightmares about when she left Vault 101 and now she was hearing the voices of the dead.]

Wildcard!

Wanna discuss something different? Feel free to hit me up via DM here or on plurk at plushietaco!

Serph | Digital Devil Saga

[bufudine]

[As always, please note the regular cannibalism and gore cw that comes with Serph. His opt-out is here.]

[5. Dreams of Nirvana]
Fluffy clouds hang from a beautifully clear blue sky, the moment serene and tranquil before it smears into pitch black darkness punctuated by an incredulous woman's voice.

"So, you're saying this dump is suppposed to be Nirvana?"

You are thrust into a world where dust swirls through abandoned streets lined with traffic lights of various states of disrepair. Cars remain still and silent, windows broken and abandoned. Statues of humans lining the streets appear to be disturbingly life-like, many of them appearing to be frozen mid activity. A pair walking down the street. Someone halfway out their car. Time and the harsh environment has not been kind to them, faces and limbs often broken or weathered down. There are no plants or animals, no sounds or signs of life at all. Dilapidated apartment complexes tower above, all pointing upwards towards the sun...

...The sun that is wrong.

It clings to a sky of blinding yellow, a blackened orb radiating heat and corruption, dark as an eclipse while beaming light as bright as an unoccluded day. Serph stands on the street across from you -- how did you not see him before? -- his usual wings missing and appearing completely human, surrounded by a ring of monster corpses with their innards torn out. Only one of the monsters is recognisable as something that exists in Revan: an Anzu, its lion head punctured and blue feathers scattered over bloodied ground.

If you see yourself as human, you are affected by the black sun's rays. As you interact with this dream, your body will slowly and painfully turn into stone, limbs growing stiff and immobile as lithification sets in.

If you see yourself as a monster or non-human, the stone effect doesn't apply to you and you will be unaffected by the black sun as you explore this dream. But there are other dangers within it...

[Hunting]
Every night, Serph is always hunting beyond the Convoy's shields. His demon is always hungry and always needs to be fed, but it is never satisfied. He recgonises more than a few of the monsters in this new land, though the mothmen and nidhoggr's lack any sort of intellect he's used to.

Still, if you're one to roam beyond the shields at night, you may encounter a demon feasting on the corpse of a monster recently slain. A mothman, perhaps, or a creature with an unnerving number of human limbs.

[Wildcard!]
[If you have other ideas you wanna thread or if you have any questions etc. you can contact me either via DM or jesii!]

I!

[soldiernoclass]

Zack is close enough to get hit with that phantom pain and to be easily overheard when he does, echoing that Ow out loud. Of course, his is more from surprise than pain - he isn't the one punching rocks and stuff as it falls out of the air, after all, and isn't prone to randomly feeling hurt by... nothing?

He's hold his hand (the same one she's shaking out), when he notices her, but doesn't make the connection right away. (Because assuming it's a mutual feeling would be kind of crazy, wouldn't it?)

"Hey! How's it going over there?"

vault 101

[taediosum]

[ If it weren't for that blaring alarm and the overwhelming sense of unease and confusion the dream seems to emanate, the scene would be fascinating. Not that Arcade has never been inside a Vault, before - it's just that, in his experience, they're either defunct and decaying relics or a kitschy tourist trap reno job like 21. This place, from what he can gather, still seems to be up and running. ...For the moment, anyway.

Between the alarm and those gunshots, things don't appear to be going great. Nor do the voices he can hear up ahead bode particularly well, though he keeps moving toward them, anyway. It doesn't seem like he can help it, actually, as he rounds another corner and nearly runs right into the only other person he's seen so far, in these empty halls.

The body on the ground not too far behind her definitely does not bode well. Arcade steps back, putting up his hands. ]

Hey, don't mind me. I think I just took a wrong turn somewhere.

II

[taediosum]

[ The battlefield is a nauseating spectacle to behold, and not one Arcade is particularly drawn to, personally. But - salvage is salvage, and he isn't about to pass up an opportunity to find something useful. The habit is far too engrained.

Most of what he finds on the pieces of somewhat stable ground that he's willing to traverse is not worth the trouble. Spent ammo casings too damaged for even Len to use, rusting and broken weapons, bodies and husks— Mostly. He's tucking a dented pack of cigarettes that taste like who-knows-what into his bag (a leather pack that's obviously new, but made piecemeal from old things), when he overhears a distinctly... unpleasant but familiar sound.

Even when he sees it's Faith, he's a little cautious to approach someone aggressively sawing the arm off a corpse. ]

...You'd, uh, have better luck going through the joint rather than just hacking away at it.

Faith continuing to be a charmer

[definitionofcrazy]

[The sad thing is, this isn't even her first corpse amputation. And he's not wrong- cutting halfway down the forearm like this was a huge pain in the ass.]

I'd just have to cut the rest off anyway. Arm's wicked stuck in there.

[And then she sort of twists, and- with a truly revolting sound- the radius and ulna snap- not that she knows the name of those two bones- and she's able to finish severing the arm. Benefits of super-strength.

For a very dubious definition of 'benefits.']

Got it.

arcade gannon | fallout: new vegas | naga

[taediosum]

i. health inversion

[ Ruined and gravity agnostic as it may be, the hospital is still a sight for sore eyes, as far as Arcade is concerned. It's the first medical facility of any kind that he's seen since this all started - other than the cramped imitation of one on the Convoy - and though there's plenty of foreboding in wandering into a massive and somehow inexplicably upturned building, he isn't about to hesitate, now. Not when they could possibly be on the verge of solving their first aid and medical woes for the foreseeable future. 

Wandering the hospital interior definitely gets disorientating fast, though. Especially when it seems there's something more than just the malfunctioning gravity at work. Somehow, it's even worse walking into a room on the ceiling when the other person is still on the floor. 

Those flickering lights aren't very reassuring, either, but Arcade seems unaffected - until the screens start flashing on in one of those decontamination throughways, INFECTED showing through flickering scraps of warnings. That can't be good, he thinks (or maybe he said that aloud? maybe it doesn't matter, if present company can hear his thoughts, anyway). ]

ii. what dreams may come

(01: navarro)

[ He hasn't had this dream for years. With good reason. There are far worse things to keep him up at night than old childhood traumas,  these days. But so much of the past has been dredged up to the surface, of late - maybe it was only a matter of time. 

Featureless hallways of slate gray and drab green stretch on seemingly forever, the lights flickering, the foundation shaking, ceiling cracking and raining down plaster and cement dust to the tune of distant but not distant enough explosions. Every so often, the walls crumble away in places, and the fires burning just beyond them are visible - broken down vertibirds and ruined vehicles (some of them bearing the same logo Arcade's does, in the Convoy) scattered across broken tarmac. There are other buildings in the hazy, smoky surroundings, most clustered close and utilitarian in appearance and nature. Navarro is legible, in some places, along with the kinds of general labels one might expect to find around a military base. 

The sounds of soldiers are also present - heavy bootsteps (or something heavier still), gunfire, shouting. Screaming. But none of them can be seen; they're just a constant presence, hovering too close, always almost catching up to the lost child at the center of the nightmare. 

He isn't hard to recognize, even as a boy of no more than six. Maybe it's the glasses, which look nearly identical to the pair he wears, now (they're too big for a child's face, even, salvaged and ill-fitting), or the haunted look on his face, as he runs through the maze-like halls, scared and searching. ]

(02: vegas)

[ This dream is a more mundane one - from a certain perspective. If the dark, dusty interiors of centuries old casinos are mundane, anyway. The Lucky 38 isn't exactly homey, but it's quiet (eerily so), beyond some idle conversation between two women seated at an old poker table (one of them very obviously drunk). 

Arcade is across the room, sitting on an old couch next to a significantly more imposing figure. She appears to be knitting... something, while he reads a book with half its cover missing. The dog stretched out between their feet hops up when someone new approaches, racing over to greet them with a bark. Which may or may not be unnerving, depending on how well they're liable to take the whole metal legs, visible brain, standard cyberdog thing - but Rex is clearly friendly. 

No one else takes notice, but Arcade looks up from his reading. ]

You're back early. 

iii. wildcard

[ hmu by PM or @ gravejuice to plot if you're interested in something completely different, i'm open to all of the above prompts. also feel free to incorporate any of the shared thoughts effects in the hospital!

in the meantime, arcade will be gathering as many med supplies as humanly possible, perils be damned, probably reorganizing the entire med bay, and avoiding the sage brush intensely (because it is glowing and he can hear it saying creepy stuff).

for monster changes this month, he still has four arms, is unwittingly venomous/capable of paralyzing or terrifying with his gaze, and may spontaneously turn into a very big snake if put into too much of a situation (because he cannot control the form shifting at all yet). also the aforementioned plant speech thing. ]

she is a delight

[taediosum]

[ Honestly, it would be weirder if this was her first corpse amputation. He understands looting bodies (because it is often necessity, even if it's unhygienic and unpleasant).

That is a profoundly revolting sound, but sadly, it's not something he finds all that shocking or unfamiliar, either. At least that arm wasn't still attached to someone alive. There really isn't a nice way to remove a limb, regardless. ]

Ah. Where's a tub full of lye when you need one?

[ He's joking, obviously. (Maybe obviously.) ]

navarro

[androidvictoriam]

[ Only in these past few nights, secondhand, has Danse come to understand the experience of dreams that aren't just synonymous with flashbacks. Dreams with landscapes that shift, timelines that skip, knowledge that appears in one's head as if it's always been there. But the truly disorienting thing is still the part where he finds himself in dreams that don't belong to him, and in that, at least, he's in good company with everyone else here.

This one...couldn't be his, even at first glance, because he's never seen a base like this from the inside. But there's enough of the familiar about it to ground him, even so. It's all just recognizable enough: the colors and the insignia, the vertibird wrecks, the distant whir of power armor servos and merciless metallic treads. The gunfire and explosions could be any gunfire, any explosions. Those never change. Only the emblem visible on the wreckage makes something savage and deep-conditioned in his gut think we won.

But it's strangled and short-lived; it feels wrong. Not only because a victorious soldier shouldn't still be inside a building as it crumbles, or because he doesn't recognize this as home or see anyone he can identify as a comrade-in-arms, but because there weren't children at the battles he remembers fighting. Not on the Enclave's side. Not ones the enemy had been willing to put in harm's way.

Danse doesn't register quite enough detail to recognize the frightened little boy yet. He acts on quick horrified reflex, kneeling--his armor protests as he does; he's somehow been in this suit all along--and extending a gauntlet. ]

We need to get you out of here, son. It isn't safe. Come on.

I. Health Inversion

[bigplace]

[ Been a while since Kaidan had to traverse a low-to-zero G environment. The dangers of such terrain aren't merely the obstacles presented—and there are plenty of them here, that with rusty rebar and sparking cables poking out of the structure as some sort of macabre, inorganic sinew and veins—but also the fact human bodies were not designed to stand upside down. Loss of bone density, bodily fluids shifting to the head causing pressure in the eyes, leading to vision loss...

A million ways to die and I don't even get to choose one, he thinks, clicking his magboots on, using biotics to jump onto various platforms, and finally making it up to the ceiling. Sometimes the lower gravity helps, lessening the strain on his body. Sometimes it hinders, turning what's no more than a couple of steps into a feat of endurance.

Doesn't matter. They need medical supplies. In war the number of people wounded is at least twice the number killed. The statistic plays in his head like a dirge.

Yeah, it's not good, he answers automatically. ] ...wait. [ That question, he didn't ask it. Confused, Kaidan trudges onward, seeking its author, the cause of it. Might be the creepy INFECTED warnings flashing as a condemnation. Me? Kaidan asks, the thought sounding lame in his head as soon as it exits it.

He walks past a row of gurneys and curtains and, finally, sees the source of the external thought. ] Arcade? [ Four arms, snake-ish. Well, okay. He swallows loudly, proud of himself for not thinking oh god, big snak— ] Oh, god damn it! [ Get it together, Alenko. The mission ] Guess we can hear each other? Somehow. So, here for medical supplies? I can help you. You can focus on gathering as much as you can, I'll clear a path for you. [ To demonstrate, he uses his biotics to push away a concrete boulder out of their way. ] And if you didn't hear that, I can say it too. Medical supplies. I can help you.

5. Dreams of Nirvana

[bigplace]

[ It reminds Kaidan too much of the post-apocalyptic world the Normandy had to visit to disarm a slumbering WMD. The memory is so harrowing he can't even remember the planet's name, only what he saw, what it made him feel.

This place is worse.

Blown out windows, shattered glass beneath. Buildings burned by the explosion now cooking in the heat of an oppressive sun. Abandoned streets, this time not littered with the soot shadows of organics disintegrated but, instead, creepy life-like statues of them. Petrified, as if— ] Oh god. [ His hand feels heavy. In a panic he removes his glove, but nothing. His skin is, blessedly, still flesh. ] Shit! [ He shoves his glove back into his hand (and the armguard that comes with it) as soon as possible. Idiot. This world could be hopelessly irradiated, enough grays to make Chernobyl look like a kid's science project—the strange sun above them supports the theory. He might've just killed himself via the oversight.

But no, all the readings from his suit are normal.

So, what now? ] Anybody out there? [ What else is there to do but walk? He's going to ignore the growing stench of flesh cooking in the sun and, instead, walk towards the only figure who doesn't appear to be yet another statue. ] Hey!

[taediosum]

[ He's wearing the right armor (or close enough - even Arcade couldn't name the exact model, but knows the make) and he's saying the right things (it's what Johnson or Judah or even Moreno might, if they found him first). But Arcade still hesitates, slowing in his frantic tracks to look up at the (somebody who shouldn't be here) stranger with more caution than trust.

His glasses try to fall down and he pushes them back up reflexively. ]

I have to find my mom.

[ It's not a whine or a plea, but a statement of fact colored with the flat neutrality of barely held-back panic. The voice is right, but the cadence of it is wrong, too much a match for the haunted look in those too sharp green eyes. ]

We were supposed to stay together.

[ His voice does break on that, just a little, because that plan has already gone wrong. He doesn't know where he lost her or when, but he knows they're separated, now. And that was the one thing he wasn't supposed to let happen. ]

What Dreams May Come

[guidemyway]

[Ruby remembers the night well enough that it doesn't take her long to pick up on what's happening. She wasn't always the brightest banana in the bunch, but when it came to matters of the heart she was pretty quick.

Not to mention the aftermath of what happened here was an image that still haunted her in dreams.

Still it's weird to have this new context to the event. She had seen images of Adam in the news and drawings- but this was much more real and terrifying in it's own right.

The heat- the fear of that night bubbles up inside her and she just wants to curl up and forget it all.

But at the same time it adds in some new context. Helps her understand what her team and family have had to go through. So- She doesn't act right away. Ruby just lays there and watches. She has a feeling she can't just change things anyways.]

[taediosum]

[ Arcade nearly jumps out of his skin when a voice answers his errant thought - or not quite a voice, because he didn't hear it, and there's no one else around. First those weird, greedy plants and now this—

At least this voice isn't trying to talk him into anything. And the more those errant scraps of thought reach him, the more vaguely familiar it sounds. He's only placed it a second or so before he does see someone else stalking through the gloom.

Kaidan?

...Although that confused realization likely gets buried in the small avalanche of thoughts that follows (at least one of which earns an indignant What was that? from Arcade).

Under ordinary circumstances, he'd be impressed by the show of strength. Right now, he just looks frazzled and annoyed. ]

...I heard it fine. But I'd still prefer if we did this out loud.

[ ...As much as possible, anyway. ]

[bigplace]

[ Kaidan winces at the indignation in Arcade's thought. Yeah, sorry. Wasn't expecting the four arms, he thinks idly, forgetting his thoughts are no longer private.

Which is going to give a problem, given his mental track is...interesting, to say the least. Keeping his mouth shut is easy. But if he doesn't talk to himself through all the weird shit that's happening all around them, well?

He just might die of a brain bleed. ] You sure? It might alert hostiles. [ Seriously, this place reminds me of Eden Prime. All the creepy husks lying around, like something else killed them. Never a good feeling when you suspect there's something worse out there, lurking. I expect a Banshee to teleport in front of us at any— ] Sorry. Sorry! Give me a minute. [ He takes off his helmet, staring directly at Arcade. The blueish glow that used to be intermittent now surrounds him permanently, pulsing, giving his brown eyes a piercing, contact lens-like blueish hue. ] Harder to think when I have to maintain eye contact. Takes all of my brain power.

So, where to?

General

[solitarysoul]

V may be trying not to be too close to SecUnit's room but Levi isn't even trying to hide what he's doing. Every night after the convoy stops he goes to stand guard outside the door. He doesn't have his rifle with him but that doesn't mean he's not armed.

He's noticed V is also hovering, but is too shy/uncertain to say much unprompted.

Sometimes, late at night, he lays down in dog form, blocking the door and possibly trying to get some sleep.

[taediosum]

[ You weren't expecting them? How do you think I feel? He's the one who's had to re-tailor his shirts just to wear them comfortably again, since this doesn't appear to be going away, at all, this time. Painfully growing a second set of arms twice over, so far, hasn't been a wonderful and predictable experience, overall. And he's crossing all four of them at the moment, as if to underline that fact.

Arcade sighs and glances at those flashing monitors as Kaidan takes off his helmet, unease creeping back in. Despite it, though— ]

I don't think we have to worry too much about hostiles. There are husks everywhere, but they all seem... dead, already. [ Empty, even the ones that aren't. That ugly, expectant resonance is missing.

That bright blue glow is strange enough to steal his attention back, though it's less alarming, at least, as a constant than an intermittent flicker. It won't save Kaidan from the disparaging, sarcastic thought that follows that pronouncement, though.

There must not be much of it.

...After which, it is abruptly Arcade's turn to apologize. ]

Sorry. [ He gestures beyond them, toward the doors he was heading for, prior. They'll have to climb a little to get through them, with everything currently upside down. ] I haven't been this way, yet.

[bigplace]

[ Okay, point. But hey, the night's still young. I might grow two tails or something. Two tails growing from the rump of those hairless cats so popular in Vancouver, one of Canada's own breeds. Certainly that wouldn't be so bad, they're kinda cute in their strangeness.

Four arms, four eyes. Batarians. Kaidan massages the area above his eyebrow, exasperated with himself, his inability to stop talking even without words. Alien species. It doesn't bother me, Arcade. It just surprised me, that's all. Rather than testing Arcade's thinning patience, he sticks to the topic at hand: ] Still don't like it. Back home husks are made from people. [ These husks are made from people too, aren't they? Why is everything here made from people?

That stray, callous thought earns Arcade a snort. ] My therapist said it's the opposite problem, actually. [ I can't seem to shut up. But he's going to continue trying not to drive Arcade insane. ] Do you need help climbing? I could lift you up there with my biotics, but uh, I understand that takes trust. [ Are the arms helping or hindering you right now? Factual thought, no accusation. ]

[taediosum]

Isn't that the same everywhere? [ A touch dryly, but. Well, people-shaped husks are going to be made from people, aren't they? There were similar charred remains in the Boneyard, on the outskirts or places that weren't traversed much. Bodies somehow both more and less preserved than the ancient, brittle skeletons one typically finds, out in the Wasteland.

Arcade shrugs at the offer, shaking his head as he drops his arms again, looking up to assess the climb. It's not that high, just an awkward hoist up over the lip of the door's upside-down overhang, and then another step to get into the actual doorway. No. I can manage. ]

They're slowly becoming a little less of a hindrance, actually. [ Now I'm just as worried they will disappear, and it'll feel like losing a limb, if I get too used to this. ]

II

[purplexing]

Despite the fact that there's a lot of things in the area all too close of a reminder to things that happened back home not too long ago, Donnie isn't one to overlook potential. Given what had happened in the shadow of that tower, he refuses to be unprepared for any other emergencies. If there are medical supplies that could be of use in the creepy, upside-down hospital, then to the creepy, upside-down hospital he'll go!

It's a lot worse inside than out, but he's come this far already, and isn't going to back down now. Hospitals aren't really a place he's frequented before, especially not since he and his family technically aren't supposed to exist, so paying a visit to one in New York was simply out of the question. It doesn't help that this looks like some rendition of something out of a horror video game. He's already feeling, for lack of a better word, weird after his brush with those strange glowing blue weeds, but he'd half convinced himself it's possibly some sort of allergy.

Huh, that voice sounded familiar.

He frowns, his anxiousness about the surroundings shifting into something more of annoyance, briefly tempered by some relief to see a familiar face once he enters the room.

"Please and thank you?" he still can't help but prompt, but he steps over anyway, his feathery wings flapping once in an unnecessary boost to perch on the side of the desk.

"Maybe you're tugging it the wrong way. Or it's one of those old ones that lock unless you pull out one of the other drawers..." he muses as he looks at the other drawers.