[ a small ooc debrief to place you where you need to be:
🪐 this icly occurs w6 wednesday late pm and will finish w6 thursday return for all of your scampering/hiding/gaslighting needs. 🪐 the weekly effect is not active during this cyoa. 🪐 your character will find that their powers have been turned on, though they are a bit iffy in terms of whether they work when you want them to. characters who use them will feel more of a drain on their bodies than usual when utilizing any of them. this drain may manifest in many ways, but always gradual: gradual gnawing hunger, gradual thirst, gradual fatigue, and may put them in a very precarious position should they overextend themselves. you can fuck around and find out.
now. let's begin.
it is late wednesday night, after preparations have been made, when you all will board what looks to be a small shuttle, emblazoned inside with the nut & bolt co. logo. there are four seats, each with an overhead bin, each of them stocked with some supplies for you. upon some preliminary light searching, they will find the following:
🪐 some suits with rebreathers that help with bad atmosphere. these are pretty easy to don and comfy, so it's not a fuss. ignore the open spots on this suit, they're not open. 🪐 a choice of: a plasma blade (a long dagger), a plasma pistol, an upgraded heal gun. the pistol has 5 shots. the gun has 3 charges. 1 charge heals a minor wound, 2 charges heal a moderate wound. 🪐 if you have a standard weapon you use normally, you will be permitted to bring it here. however, if you bring a blade, you will be advised to keep it sheathed unless it is an emergency. in that vein, your plasma blade retracts into the hilt, making it seem fairly harmless to the naked eye. any items purchased at auction still remain nerfed, so a magic sword is just a sword. a magic amulet is just an amulet. darn. all guns come with holsters.
outside of the windows, you can see the churning cosmic waves of a storm along the horizon of the blue planet you know to be acquada.
a short while after you acquaint yourselves with your surroundings and your supplies, io ducks through the low entrance, donned in a suit already, their helmet in hand, and a long jacket atop that suit. ]
Alright. I take it you all know the drill by now. We need to take care of this CEM storm before we can leave for our final stop. This one in particular is going to be a slog - Category 3. I'll be joining you on this trip as your senior officer blah blah official capacity etc. etc.
In short, let's get in, find the source to disperse it, and then we can get back to the others.
[ they will pull up what looks to be a scan of the storm, revealing a strange planet shifting slowly on its axis. io stares at it for a moment or two before sitting down on one of the seats available. they pull out what looks to be a leather journal from the inner pocket of their jacket and thumb through a few pages before nodding. ]
Now, I have done some preliminary scans on the storm... there's a good chance that we may be dealing with a "pull it up from the roots" situation.
There's a very strong energy signature coming from beneath the surface of a penal colony located on the planet we're headed towards, Khalkha. So we may have to find a way to access that from the surface itself, or... we'll have no choice but to go down below. So... if you have any questions, ask away while we have the time now. We'll be reaching the apex of the storm shortly.
[ they're just here going through some data and taking some notes in an old, beaten-up journal, but are available to speak with you should you have any questions. ]
Penal colony, huh. [ like. jail? ] Io, do we have any sort of information about what kind of planet Khalkha is? Stats or anything that might help us find a way in as necessary.
[ report what you've taken. you may take up to two of the three items presented in the briefing. in review: a plasma blade, a plasma pistol, an upgraded heal gun. ]
io will go ahead and situate the ship on standby a bit of a ways away. as you disembark, the atmosphere is thick and musty-smelling, even through the respirators on your helmet. while the air is survivable, there are strange motes along it, flecks of dark detritus carried along the breeze. if you choose to go without your helmet, you will soon find the air is rather awful to breathe in, so... best put that back on. just because you can, doesn't always mean you should.
as you take your first steps, you notice that your bodies feel heavy, dragging themselves with every footstep. hunger already begins to nibble at your stomach where it once wasn’t. thirst and exhaustion both lick at your senses faintly, like some kind of a warning. rustling grasses grab at boots, as though to keep you rooted in place, but it's too soft and weak to make you actually stay, always letting go no matter how long you choose to linger like a doctor bidding a terminal patient farewell.
however, as you walk along, you will notice an enormous hive made out of concrete. the building thrusts skywards, into dune-colored clouds and disappears, and as you observe it, you can see, this is the windowless prison, pictures of which were available to you during the briefing (as well as the missing persons reports mentioned during discussion). these people turn to look at you, newcomers, with a curiosity that newcomers tend to beget. ]
Alright, like we talked about. I'll take care of negotiating our way inside that eyesore. See if you can gather any information about town and meet me when you're done in...
[ your i.r.i.s.es all beep! you have been given a suitable meeting time. oocly, this means whenever you're done with the investigations you each select. ]
Hopefully... whatever that building is might be our ticket through this, and whatever's around town might help us too. Be careful, alright?
[ below, you will see that there are four investigation opportunities. decide amongst yourselves which one you'll each take. ]
[ there's a skinny blonde boy with a large cut on his forehead in the nearby grassy fields just beyond the town's various fences and buildings. he's walking about with a satchel strapped along his shoulder as he occasionally ducks down quickly and comes up with a soft "rats! that wasn't right at all!" as he continues to tromp along. he keeps having to adjust his make-shift mask over his face as he moves along his way, continuously plodding along. ]
[ a large figure wearing what seems to be ostentatious furs and a decadent cloth mask with rebreather is stood with his arms folded over his chest. he looks impatient and furious all at once, occasionally checking an ornate pocket watch. there are two soldiers posted beside him, as though for protection. he does stare at the shuttle you've all exited from with a sort of... expectancy about him. ]
[ a man that is dressed rather formally in a bright red military coat and can be seen directing a few soldiers here and there to various posts towards the concrete prison. mumbling to himself over and over again, the words indiscernible, he will fix you with a tired look behind his mask and rebreather and seems prepared to be approached, hand to his chest and giving you a brief bow of his head. ]
[ there is a big, black bull in this field, not far off from the people. it's tail swishes docilely as it munches on the tall grass. around its neck is a string with a bell, and a loop of rope, like a leash. there's no one else around, but you get the sense that maybe... maybe there's a reason this bull is just vibing out here. he has a keeper who is just napping on a bench, blissfully unaware if you decide to approach. ]
[ io will finish his own work and will return to meet with you all when you are through with your own findings. he stands uncomfortably, with his arms folded, occasionally glancing back over their shoulder towards the concrete hive. ]
I spoke with the Foreman. He's the one who oversees the work in a more hands-on capacity. A prisoner who's... become trusted by the owner of the plant.
[ the dull tone makes it sound like he is not exactly in agreement. ]
I've managed to negotiate our way inside. We'll investigate, see where precisely the strange readings are coming from, and... we'll be able to clear things up and get the hell out of this place.
piles you all in the cyoa jalopy, alright let's go!!!
when the group is through with their investigations and have chewed over their findings, they can proceed towards the plant... a large concrete mass that is windowless, old grooves around the face of the building indicating that maybe, maybe they once had them. maybe, there was once a mote of freedom.
the flecks of dark detritus from earlier seem to be congregating here, like a group of flies hovering over a corpse. an enormous person who makes io look quite small, stares down at the group, one hand on an enormous lever. they wear a dark mask over their face, though there is a grate where their eyes are visible, making them look as if they are in more of a prison (ironically) than a helm. ]
Disturb nothing. Touch nothing. Take nothing.
[ that's all the foreman says. the doors scream open, wailing even might be a better term, until they slam fully apart, revealing the lightless path before you. upon entering the dark of a building, you are all greeted by an absolute cacophony.
the sounds of cutting, the sounds of water, the sounds of labor.
the doors close with the same heaviness, shuddering to a final close. the tell-tale signs of someone bolting the doors behind the group are audible.
if one thing is certain, it is that this place hates you. the dim light, the glassy eyes gazing your way from tired, hungry faces, the severity of stone and earth. it hates you in a way that only the blind tonnage of concrete and humid air can have. it hates your living blood, it hates the way that the warmth of sunshine still lingers on your skin.
the people inside of this building focus on you all for a few more moments, stopping in their carrying of baskets and buckets, packages of what look to be ruby-red glistening meat, and more. each of them wears a long chain around their necks. they stare, a few moments longer before they disperse and go on about their day... so you can assume.
there are two directions to go immediately from here, where these workers-slash-prisoners file through no other paths seem to be available... to the right, there is a long, dark hallway with a ceiling that tapers higher and higher the further you go in, or a precarious-looking set of stairs that lead upwards. ]
Lot of ground to cover in only the time we have...
[ does this mean you'll need to split your party? maybe that's exactly what it means. especially if you want to cover more ground quickly. considering the oppressive nature of this place... the way it starts to crawl beneath your skin, ... well. what say you? ]
[ as you all contemplate your individual mortality, semi-rejuvenated thanks to temenos' healing magic, you might hear a very distant dripping noise. it's thick, not like splashes of water, but splashes of goop. bloody, meaty water with a translucent membrane begins to seep in through the edges of the concrete. there's a distinct burning scent to it as well...
as though maybe it's devouring its way through the stone towards you.
you didn't think you left the monster behind in the concrete cave-in, did you? and before you think this is going to be a slow process that could afford you time to make a choice of leaping to your potential dooms, don't worry. i'm making that decision for you. one palm-sized block of concrete just spurts out of place, hitting the opposite wall as a gush of the fluid enters in the way of a tentacle, another also enters, clambering in greedily after it. like a person trying to lick the inside of a container to get the dregs of their delicious meal, this thing is pissed that you thought you could get away.
the feeling of hate permeates, radiates.
and then explodes as concrete bursts forth from the cave-in, and the creature (if you can even call it - it's a mass of faces and necks and heads, eyes rolling, mouths lolling. your rest is done, because this thing is sweeping its large tentacle in and just like a petulant cat...
smacking you all straight into the pit.
what's it like? for you to fall
and fall
and fall
and fall?
how do you fall? loudly and windmilling? silently and embracing what lies beneath? anxiously and twisting like an errant kite in the wind? there are no walls to cling to, nothing above or below you soon enough it is dark. all... dark...
you were having a pleasant dream, weren't you? everyone you loved was there, everyone you loved, or have loved before, holding you in their hands as precious as a treasure. your friends, granted peace at last. but is it really a peace that you can enjoy at ease? as each of you try and continue your conversations - some of you walking alongside your companions, others questioning with a niggling uncertainty about where you are... all of you will watch it swept away.
because that's over. the bliss of becoming one with this monstrosity is over.
as your eyes open (snapping, fluttering, widening) you realize to some spectrum of horror (a screaming in your brain or out of your mouth, fear slicking cool on your body, anxiety) that you are in a tight, confined space, arms pinioned to one side, though maybe you can wiggle them up a bit. your weapons? still there, but it's so bruisingly tight in here you can hardly move your hands to grasp for them. it’s hard to breathe in here, the air fetid like rotten meat, long since devoured and left to cling to the surfaces and ridges that are attempting to crush you tightly. something has wrapped itself around you, and you can feel it - a slow burn, a steady burn, a pulsing sensation.
there’s no air in here. what little you have? well. it’s not enough to remain in here for very much longer.
(if you have any desired injuries, here is where you can prime them, make flesh more vulnerable, start to lose sight in a chosen eye. you aren't going to be incapacitated, but the areas can be vulnerable to attack - think of it like a video game, where you've had certain areas weakened. digestion is, after all, a slow and grueling process.)
however, all is not lost. you aren't beaten yet. you've been bruised from the crushing somewhat, and the acid sure isn't pleasant against what wounds have not healed, but you can persist. you must persist.
there’s a cutting sound, a noise like effort, pained. cutting, slicing. it’s trying to get through whatever the hell is holding you fast and tight as something outside rumbles, rattles. whoever is outside is gasping as they try and stab with as much care as they can into a seam of muscle, pulling it apart. acid-burned hands are digging inside, trying to widen the gap. you’re all like peas in a fleshy, weird little pod it turns out, your chambers are connected all but by a thin little membrane. a voice, familiar: ]
Take my hand! I won’t have you dying on me now! We're getting back one damn way or another.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
— BRIEFING (good evening, mission operatives)
YOUR MISSION.
🪐 this icly occurs w6 wednesday late pm and will finish w6 thursday return for all of your scampering/hiding/gaslighting needs.
🪐 the weekly effect is not active during this cyoa.
🪐 your character will find that their powers have been turned on, though they are a bit iffy in terms of whether they work when you want them to. characters who use them will feel more of a drain on their bodies than usual when utilizing any of them. this drain may manifest in many ways, but always gradual: gradual gnawing hunger, gradual thirst, gradual fatigue, and may put them in a very precarious position should they overextend themselves. you can fuck around and find out.
now. let's begin.
it is late wednesday night, after preparations have been made, when you all will board what looks to be a small shuttle, emblazoned inside with the nut & bolt co. logo. there are four seats, each with an overhead bin, each of them stocked with some supplies for you. upon some preliminary light searching, they will find the following:
🪐 some suits with rebreathers that help with bad atmosphere. these are pretty easy to don and comfy, so it's not a fuss. ignore the open spots on this suit, they're not open.
🪐 a choice of: a plasma blade (a long dagger), a plasma pistol, an upgraded heal gun. the pistol has 5 shots. the gun has 3 charges. 1 charge heals a minor wound, 2 charges heal a moderate wound.
🪐 if you have a standard weapon you use normally, you will be permitted to bring it here. however, if you bring a blade, you will be advised to keep it sheathed unless it is an emergency. in that vein, your plasma blade retracts into the hilt, making it seem fairly harmless to the naked eye. any items purchased at auction still remain nerfed, so a magic sword is just a sword. a magic amulet is just an amulet. darn. all guns come with holsters.
outside of the windows, you can see the churning cosmic waves of a storm along the horizon of the blue planet you know to be acquada.
a short while after you acquaint yourselves with your surroundings and your supplies, io ducks through the low entrance, donned in a suit already, their helmet in hand, and a long jacket atop that suit. ]
In short, let's get in, find the source to disperse it, and then we can get back to the others.
[ they will pull up what looks to be a scan of the storm, revealing a strange planet shifting slowly on its axis. io stares at it for a moment or two before sitting down on one of the seats available. they pull out what looks to be a leather journal from the inner pocket of their jacket and thumb through a few pages before nodding. ]
There's a very strong energy signature coming from beneath the surface of a penal colony located on the planet we're headed towards, Khalkha. So we may have to find a way to access that from the surface itself, or... we'll have no choice but to go down below. So... if you have any questions, ask away while we have the time now. We'll be reaching the apex of the storm shortly.
TALK TO IO.
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[ temenos is coming over once they get settled... hello... he gets a little smile of course, but otherwise he's peering at the projection. ]
A penal colony. I don't suppose we could get arrested to get in...? [ this is a joke
anyway. ] Are we going in to destroy whatever the source is? And will the conditions be similar to the Hanging Gardens...?
[ with a light gesture from his staff... ]
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TALK AMONGST YOURSELVES.
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I'll take a blade and a heal gun. What about everyone else?
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YOUR INVENTORY.
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-plasma blade + heal gun ]
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dual wielding blades.... hehe ]
— ARRIVAL (there is no temple but the temple of labor)
INVESTIGATION.
io will go ahead and situate the ship on standby a bit of a ways away. as you disembark, the atmosphere is thick and musty-smelling, even through the respirators on your helmet. while the air is survivable, there are strange motes along it, flecks of dark detritus carried along the breeze. if you choose to go without your helmet, you will soon find the air is rather awful to breathe in, so... best put that back on. just because you can, doesn't always mean you should.
as you take your first steps, you notice that your bodies feel heavy, dragging themselves with every footstep. hunger already begins to nibble at your stomach where it once wasn’t. thirst and exhaustion both lick at your senses faintly, like some kind of a warning. rustling grasses grab at boots, as though to keep you rooted in place, but it's too soft and weak to make you actually stay, always letting go no matter how long you choose to linger like a doctor bidding a terminal patient farewell.
however, as you walk along, you will notice an enormous hive made out of concrete. the building thrusts skywards, into dune-colored clouds and disappears, and as you observe it, you can see, this is the windowless prison, pictures of which were available to you during the briefing (as well as the missing persons reports mentioned during discussion). these people turn to look at you, newcomers, with a curiosity that newcomers tend to beget. ]
[ your i.r.i.s.es all beep! you have been given a suitable meeting time. oocly, this means whenever you're done with the investigations you each select. ]
Hopefully... whatever that building is might be our ticket through this, and whatever's around town might help us too. Be careful, alright?
[ below, you will see that there are four investigation opportunities. decide amongst yourselves which one you'll each take. ]
CHOOSE YOUR CHARACTER . . .
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CHOICE 1 — the boy
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CHOICE 2 — the boss
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CHOICE 3 — the general
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CHOICE 4 — the... bull?
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REGROUP.
I spoke with the Foreman. He's the one who oversees the work in a more hands-on capacity. A prisoner who's... become trusted by the owner of the plant.
[ the dull tone makes it sound like he is not exactly in agreement. ]
I've managed to negotiate our way inside. We'll investigate, see where precisely the strange readings are coming from, and... we'll be able to clear things up and get the hell out of this place.
Anyone find anything else before we head inside?
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— WITHIN WITHOUT (an open wound as a window)
ENTER: THE PROCESSING PLANT.
piles you all in the cyoa jalopy, alright let's go!!!
when the group is through with their investigations and have chewed over their findings, they can proceed towards the plant... a large concrete mass that is windowless, old grooves around the face of the building indicating that maybe, maybe they once had them. maybe, there was once a mote of freedom.
the flecks of dark detritus from earlier seem to be congregating here, like a group of flies hovering over a corpse. an enormous person who makes io look quite small, stares down at the group, one hand on an enormous lever. they wear a dark mask over their face, though there is a grate where their eyes are visible, making them look as if they are in more of a prison (ironically) than a helm. ]
[ that's all the foreman says. the doors scream open, wailing even might be a better term, until they slam fully apart, revealing the lightless path before you. upon entering the dark of a building, you are all greeted by an absolute cacophony.
the sounds of cutting, the sounds of water, the sounds of labor.
the doors close with the same heaviness, shuddering to a final close. the tell-tale signs of someone bolting the doors behind the group are audible.
if one thing is certain, it is that this place hates you. the dim light, the glassy eyes gazing your way from tired, hungry faces, the severity of stone and earth. it hates you in a way that only the blind tonnage of concrete and humid air can have. it hates your living blood, it hates the way that the warmth of sunshine still lingers on your skin.
the people inside of this building focus on you all for a few more moments, stopping in their carrying of baskets and buckets, packages of what look to be ruby-red glistening meat, and more. each of them wears a long chain around their necks. they stare, a few moments longer before they disperse and go on about their day... so you can assume.
there are two directions to go immediately from here, where these workers-slash-prisoners file through no other paths seem to be available... to the right, there is a long, dark hallway with a ceiling that tapers higher and higher the further you go in, or a precarious-looking set of stairs that lead upwards. ]
Lot of ground to cover in only the time we have...
[ does this mean you'll need to split your party? maybe that's exactly what it means. especially if you want to cover more ground quickly. considering the oppressive nature of this place... the way it starts to crawl beneath your skin, ... well. what say you? ]
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ENTER: STAGE RIGHT
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ENTER: STAGE LEFT
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EXEUNT: STAGE RIGHT
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— EXCISION (like a drop of blood tracing a vein)
ENTER: FESTERING ABOMINATION
as though maybe it's devouring its way through the stone towards you.
you didn't think you left the monster behind in the concrete cave-in, did you? and before you think this is going to be a slow process that could afford you time to make a choice of leaping to your potential dooms, don't worry. i'm making that decision for you. one palm-sized block of concrete just spurts out of place, hitting the opposite wall as a gush of the fluid enters in the way of a tentacle, another also enters, clambering in greedily after it. like a person trying to lick the inside of a container to get the dregs of their delicious meal, this thing is pissed that you thought you could get away.
the feeling of hate permeates, radiates.
and then explodes as concrete bursts forth from the cave-in, and the creature (if you can even call it - it's a mass of faces and necks and heads, eyes rolling, mouths lolling. your rest is done, because this thing is sweeping its large tentacle in and just like a petulant cat...
smacking you all straight into the pit.
what's it like? for you to fall
and fall
and fall
and fall?
how do you fall? loudly and windmilling? silently and embracing what lies beneath? anxiously and twisting like an errant kite in the wind? there are no walls to cling to, nothing above or below you soon enough it is dark. all... dark...
was this supposed to be
a tomb for you... all along?
some eat meat. and some are meat. ]
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STAGE DIRECTION: STOP THE METASTASIS
cw: threat of suffocation, and vore. i'm sorry.
you were having a pleasant dream, weren't you? everyone you loved was there, everyone you loved, or have loved before, holding you in their hands as precious as a treasure. your friends, granted peace at last. but is it really a peace that you can enjoy at ease? as each of you try and continue your conversations - some of you walking alongside your companions, others questioning with a niggling uncertainty about where you are... all of you will watch it swept away.
because that's over. the bliss
of becoming one with this monstrosityis over.as your eyes open (snapping, fluttering, widening) you realize to some spectrum of horror (a screaming in your brain or out of your mouth, fear slicking cool on your body, anxiety) that you are in a tight, confined space, arms pinioned to one side, though maybe you can wiggle them up a bit. your weapons? still there, but it's so bruisingly tight in here you can hardly move your hands to grasp for them. it’s hard to breathe in here, the air fetid like rotten meat, long since devoured and left to cling to the surfaces and ridges that are attempting to crush you tightly. something has wrapped itself around you, and you can feel it - a slow burn, a steady burn, a pulsing sensation.
there’s no air in here. what little you have? well. it’s not enough to remain in here for very much longer.
(if you have any desired injuries, here is where you can prime them, make flesh more vulnerable, start to lose sight in a chosen eye. you aren't going to be incapacitated, but the areas can be vulnerable to attack - think of it like a video game, where you've had certain areas weakened. digestion is, after all, a slow and grueling process.)
however, all is not lost. you aren't beaten yet. you've been bruised from the crushing somewhat, and the acid sure isn't pleasant against what wounds have not healed, but you can persist. you must persist.
there’s a cutting sound, a noise like effort, pained. cutting, slicing. it’s trying to get through whatever the hell is holding you fast and tight as something outside rumbles, rattles. whoever is outside is gasping as they try and stab with as much care as they can into a seam of muscle, pulling it apart. acid-burned hands are digging inside, trying to widen the gap. you’re all like peas in a fleshy, weird little pod it turns out, your chambers are connected all but by a thin little membrane. a voice, familiar: ]
Take my hand! I won’t have you dying on me now! We're getting back one damn way or another.
[ a distant roar, a distant rumble. ]
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