graveyardsmash | JANUARY/FEBRUARY TEST DRIVE

01. Arrival

Angela is confused. Yes, there is a river in Brooklyn. The bridge which spans it is-- was-- Sera's favorite New York spot. But Angela had been nowhere near the river. And this beach she's washed ashore on is not a New York City beach. She's wearing her armor, but her weapons are nowhere to be found. And every inch of exposed skin is covered in cuts and scratches.

"Odd..." Angela pushes herself to her feet and surveys her surroundings. She has no idea where she is. If there is someone else on shore beside her, she will interrogate them. "Get up! What is this place? How did I come here?"

If not, she will begin walking towards those lights in the distance.

02. Pamphlets

[ Sure, Angela can read. She may prefer to hear her stories told aloud, but she is capable of reading on her own. She doesn't tend to gravitate towards literature of the self-help genre, however. So the many leaflets being thrust into her hands are met with confusion.

She stops a passerby who looks as though they might be a local. Monstrous or no, Angela does not seem to judge based on appearance. ]

What is the meaning of this? "Alternatives to Human Flesh"... Is this land inhabited by cannibals? [ And while she's on the topic: ] What realm is this? I do not know this place.

03. Wildcard

[ Find Angela somewhere else? She'll be exploring as much as she can, trying to find a way off planet. Very, very disappointed that she can't fly away into space for some reason. Will match prose or brackets! HMU @ objectpermanence to plot further! ]

Edited 2020-01-10 16:56 (UTC)

01. Natives

There is something to be said about people being friendly, mostly, towards you. Haku knows a lot of it when it comes to him is usually some sort of pity that a child (or teenager, to be perfectly honest even if he's shorter than most) would illicit from those around him. But he's already carefully planning his next moves in his mind even as he's being shoved things and told to find some sort of way to get out of this cold. To bundle up and be wary of the places around him.

In reality, the cold and the snow does not bother him in the slightest. This is about the normal weather he's used to and, even with a distressing lack of being able to tap into his chakra, he can still feel the ice in his veins to remind him of what he could have done.

Which comes down to his clothing perhaps being stranger than most are used to. The most striking is perhaps the headband he currently wears and the stranger still sandals when the rest of him seems fairly bundled up.

But it hardly matters as he's taking a moment to find an open bench and taking a seat to sort through everything that has been given to him. Perhaps it would be a good idea to make sure he isn't too overwhelmed by all of this mess? He is just a small teenager, after all.

02. Pamphlets

Overwhelmed he certainly is, given he's frowning softly to himself as he rifles through the different pamphlets. Some sound utterly ridiculous but each is being stowed away in... whatever potential pockets he has on that outfit of his.

"Becoming a monster...? That sounds impossible and ridiculous," he's muttering softly to himself before leaning back on the bench with a soft sigh. His attention focuses to the sky for a brief second, familiar and yet utterly not so. The ways these people speak, the ways they act, the names of places are all completely unfamiliar to him. Even now, he wonders if this is to be his afterlife. Is this one of the options for after someone dies? To be punished by changing into some sort of beast...?

Of course not, that's ridiculous. This has to be some sort of joke, but he knows full well that he did not survive that hit...

"What have I gotten myself into now?"

03. Wildcard

[Got an idea for a thread? Feel free to hit me with it or message me.]

Edited 2020-01-10 17:57 (UTC)

A- Beach

[Oggie has been on the road for years, seeking the heir to the Heterodyne family, knowing his journey is fruitless but at least having his friends. They've been separated from their army for almost ten years but not each other for much time at all, at any point.]

[He's woken up, dirty and beaten, on more than one beach. None of it was new or frightening, just disorienting. the jaeger coughs, spitting out a few clumps of sand and rubbing his face. What had happened? Another night of drinking? A bar fight? An ill-fated sea trip?]

[He doesn't hear either of his companions. Something is wrong.]

...Vhere is my hat? Has anyvone seen a brown fez mit a bit of puff on de top?

B- A stranger in a strange land.

The people here are so kindly! Oggie has never been greeted so kindly in a town in the last few hundred years. He hasn't yet realized he's missing his horn, claws, and fangs quite yet but... well, something is off, just as when he arrived. He hasn't seen his friends yet.

"Here sir-" Someone offered. Ognian was suddenly looking at a pair of boots. "Walking barefoot in the city isn't the best idea."

"Hey can't-" Wait.

He looked down at his toes. Five on each foot. That was... wrong. That was very wrong. There were already lots of monsters here! Why was he human all of the sudden?

"VHATS de big idea? Vhy are dere monsters und creepy crawlies all over und hy end up missing all my jaeger parts?"

C- melts like caramel candy (slime)

It's all wrong. When the fog rolls in, he knows it's time- this rolling fog that comes from a goddess he doesn't know, to change him from human to beast. He'd done this before, and he'd done it out of loyalty and choice. But surely, surely he'd go back to normal- grow his horn and his claws back.

It doesn't go quite like that. Ognian has sat himself on a park bench, drinking ale from a waterskin and watching the waves of fog roll over his toes. He couldn't bring himself to wear proper boots yet- at least he had decades of callouses on his side. It felt wrong.

What felt more wrong was his skin. Right, here we go. He stands up and then... flops over, like a rubber chicken. The best he can do is begin to drag himself towards the nearest building, body flopping and bending unnaturally. It's like all his bones were just... gone.

And you cans see that's the path their taking. The man laying, barely able to lift his head, in the middle of a park sidewalk is... strangely see-through. His skin is taking on a warm, honeylike hue, with nerves and rubbery bones illuminated within it- because as far as one can tell, he is in fact turning to honey.

"Dis is wrong- dis is all wrong- some- someone-"

He's all too easy to step in, with the fog like it is.

[1 - Arrival]
[It's not the first time she's woken up not knowing where she is. It's not even the first time she's woken up on a beach not knowing where she is, although most of the time they've been New York beaches, which makes this one look surprisingly clean. What is different is just how much she hurts. Normally, she wouldn't be so scraped up. Normally, the scrapes would have healed, and the headache would have passed, and she would be thoroughly awake as soon as she opened her eyes.]

[That's not happening. Given her superhuman resilience and healing, that can only mean one thing: something really, really bad happened last night.]

[She's swaying a little as she pushes herself to her feet, shaking water and sand out of her long, blonde ponytail. All right, Bethan. Where the hell are you this time? she thinks, with more exasperation than fear, and looks this way and that, her eyes narrowed. There, in the distance - way further than they should be, this is definitely not New York City - there are the lights of a town. Well, that's a start.]

[She stoops to pick up her waterlogged helmet, emptying seawater out of it and tucking it under her arm, and sets out towards the lights, still unsteady on her feet, but with a hard, determined look on her face. If she sees anyone else along the way, she'll hesitate a moment, but then turn towards them and whistle through her teeth.]

Hey! Where's that? [And she points to the town with a gloved hand.]

[2 - A Softer World]
[Oh, she does not like this town. She likes to be anonymous, to be ignored when she chooses, to make her own way in the world. She might not be New York born, but there's a reason she lives there. Here, though...]

[Everywhere she turns, there's someone trying to talk to her, to welcome her, to push pamphlets into her hands. It's like this entire town is full of Jehovah's Witnesses. She doesn't even look at the pamphlets she's given before balling them up and throwing them in the nearest bin with a look of mounting anger. It isn't long before she's had more than she can bear, and the next person - human or monster - to approach her will find her wheeling on them, teeth bared like an animal, grey eyes flashing with anger.]

I swear, if you give me one more fucking leaflet, I'm gonna shove it so far down your throat you'll shit papier-mache for a week!

[She sounds like she might actually mean it, too.]

[3 - A Harder Soul]
[It's almost a relief to realise not everyone is happy to see her. She doesn't know how to deal with people talking to her, smiling at her, trying to be nice to her. People glowering and trying to be subtle about following her... that's much easier.]

[She pretends not to see the three men on her tail, but angles herself for back alleys and isolated places even more than before. Please, she thinks grimly, please just try it. After all this day's had to offer, she could use a fight. What's more, she's confident about her ability to win it. She's been stalking the streets of New York for three years as the Bandit, masked by her leathers and her motorcycle helmet; she's fought plenty of armed men bigger and heftier than these three, and taken them down. She's got this.]

[What she hasn't reckoned with, of course, is that the Bandit has superpowers. Bethan, right now, is just a young woman - a young woman with a lot of fighting experience and the muscle to show for it, but just a normal young woman nonetheless, as she finds out to her cost when one of them pulls a knife. Her still-damp leather jacket absorbs some of the impact, but even so, she stumbles back as blood begins to flow, her eyes wide with surprise. She expected it to hurt. She didn't expect it to go that deep.]

How the fuck did you...

[She's angry, and she's not done fighting yet, but this has caught her off-balance and cost her any slim advantage her fighting prowess might have given her. It's not even the pain, or the bleeding, that slows her. It's sheer shock.]

[In the moment she lets her guard drop, and the three men take advantage of it, moving in to press home an attack. She won't thank you for it, but if anyone's passing, now might be the time to help.]

[4 - The Bandit]
[She's normal. For the first time in almost twenty years, Bethan is normal. No fast healing, no supernatural resilience, and most likely no resistance to other powers, either. That's... a lot to deal with.]

[So she doesn't deal with it. She's really good at not dealing with things.]

[The Bandit might have superpowers, but that doesn't mean she can't be the Bandit without them. Sure, it's more dangerous, but it's not like she expected to live to a ripe old age anyway. Sure, she doesn't know this town or its monstrous inhabitants well enough for a battle plan, but that doesn't mean justice can't be served. And she's still got her helmet, her motorcycle leathers. That seems like some kind of sign.]

[Midnight finds her perched on a Bavan roof, a dark shape in black leathers and a helmet with a tinted visor. Freerunning is a lot harder with a badly-patched stab wound, but it's not impossible, and she's always been good at climbing. And she likes rooftops - not just for the vantage point they offer, but because up here, the air feels cleaner, easier to breathe, without walls pressing in.]

[She crouches on the slates like a gargoyle, leaning over the gutter and watching the street below. Waiting. Listening.]

[Maybe you find her up there. Or maybe you're out hunting when a black-clad figure drops, with a small cry of pain, from a windowsill overhead, landing with fists clenched between you and your prey. Bulked out by the too-big leathers, and standing almost six foot in her boots, the Bandit looks like a muscular man - and, if the saltwater hadn't damaged the voice transformer taped to the inside of her helmet, would sound like one, too. As it is, the voice that comes from the dark visor is just a little muffled.]

I don't know how to call 911 here, so you should probably back off before you need an ambulance.

[Wildcard!]
[[If you have any other ideas for threads, throw them at me here, or hit me up at

jormandugr!]]

i. of this pattern of pain washed away by the rain [beach]

[Leave it to Higgs to end up on another fucking Beach.

Even before the man fully returns to consciousness, there's sweet comfort in the familiar feel of the damp sand cradling his body, in the gentle sound of water lapping up against the shore. In the sharp, stinging cuts now scattered across his aching body.

Pain. Pain is what Higgs knows best. It's the language he's most fluent in, the only constant across the whole of his life. Pain is love, and as the EE herself knows, there's nothing quite as painful as a walk along the Beach.

Whatever panic is racing through him at coming to in some strange place without his BB or his powers, the voice that projects out from beneath his two masks is surprisingly languid, a casual drawl, like this is a pleasant conversation between friends. The man is standing by the shore, just close enough that the toes of his boots are hit with each soft wave, arms lifted up at his sides to reveal the brilliant gold and black striping of his cloak. His head tips upwards as if addressing the sky above, eyes shadowed by his dark hood as his gold mask glitters with every movement. ]

Ah, ah, ah. Now that's not playin' very fair, Amelie. We both know there's only one way this is gonna end.

[He's completely oblivious to any humans or monsters who may be wandering along the same beach, too busy addressing someone who wouldn't respond.]

And honey, you can’t stop what’s already comin'.

ii. you'll forgive me if I promise and do nothing but the same [pamphlets]

[In a world where humans have scurried fearfully underground, Higgs is exactly the kind of thing their nightmares are made up of. But in a place where monsters run about freely? Where they could pick off humans without warning or repercussion? Well. It's time to face the facts that he is no longer the biggest baddie around.

Not that he's the type to admit defeat so easily, but for all of his talk of the end of days and of extinguishing all life, Higgs was programmed for survival. And survive he would, until that final explosion came and wiped everything out all at once. Then he'll allow himself to die. Before that though, he has an extinction to see to completion.

The man doesn't remove his masks while he moves through the the town, a ghost with a golden smile striding past the mobs who are so eager to welcome and help. They reach out their hands and he expertly darts past them, avoiding their touch more than anything. And he would have made it through without interruption if he hadn't caught sight of the glares now being sent his way, the group of menfolk off to the side with their arms crossed and their brows pinched.

They look pissed and Higgs isn't the type of man who can ignore it. He comes to a stop and there's no missing the smile in his voice, even if his face is still hidden.]

Afternoon, gentlemen! Looks like you boys are real unhappy to see me. Ah - [He lifts a hand and waggles a single gloved finger.] But don't worry. I'm not offended.

[Experienced monsters may sense a fight brewing and want to stop it. Or maybe they want to just get front row seats instead.]

iii. this is life until death could be my last dying breath [wildcard]

[ooc: if you'd like to talk about another prompt or throw in your own, go for it! hmu over here

meyggy if you want to chat!]

Edited 2020-01-11 01:12 (UTC)

A.

[Makoto isn't a stranger to this kind of thing, not really, considering her kelpie appearance. But that doesn't change the fact that she feels disoriented, even as she pushes herself up in the sand.

She squints, trying to stare through the fog as much as she can... but she recognizes the place, even if she doesn't want to.]

Oi, I was in Bavan—!

[She sounds pretty dang annoyed.]

B.

[She's made it back to Vandare by now, visiting the same haunts that she did when she first arrived... which is mostly her trying to determine what everything is like now, and trying to figure out how much time has passed. Eventually, she does settle down though, and she's got her laptop since that thing always seems to just be there whenever there are people.]

hey!!!
wow, it's been awhile! (・∀・)
for everyone new and old, i'm makoto kikuchi.
there's a bunch of new people in vandare...
i think they need help.

1. Now I'm thinking maybe I was stoned
[Korekiyo doesn't remember falling asleep, but here he is, washed up on the shores... Vandare, wasn't it?

His brows furrowed. The last thing he remembers was taking some human outside of Bavan... Did he target the wrong human? He slowly sits up, dusting off his clothes before pulling his disembodied head out of the sand.]

What a mess... [The lich gingerly brushed the sediment off his pale face with a skeletal hand. At this angle, he could plainly see his locket hanging around the collar of his shirt... That locket held importance before, but after he's transformed he's felt the need protect it more than ever...

Well. He's still far from home. Better find his way back before these humans start trying to kill him. With that in mind, he places his head back where it should be and gets up. He knows the other new arrivals won't be much help, so he approaches the first monster he sees.]

Excuse me, you don't happen to know the nearest bus to Bavan, do you?

3. I felt my feet lift off the ground
[This seems rather... Off. Somewhere on route to Bavan he's found himself in an arcade much too advanced for the kind of technology accessible in Ryslig... Are those humans strapped to a...?]

This must be some god's domain... [Which god, he doesn't know for sure. But as far as he knows the Fourth has a connection to technology...

Then he spots someone else in the arcade. Maybe they can help.]

Did you find yourself here? [He asks, barely introducing himself,] Or have you been following this god for some time?

4. And my heart was screaming at my bones
[Korekiyo isn't transforming. He's already completed his transformation, not that it's so apperent now that he's reapplied makeup to his face and found himself some gloves. Much time has passed since he was last seen, and he's starting to reacclimate himself with his surroundings. So much has changed since he last remembers...

Like the changes themselves for instance. It's only been a few hours or so, and he's coming across people who are going through the first changes...]

Odd... [He mutters as he watches,] I thought the changes started after a month?

[He needs explainations...]

Wildcard!
[I'm baaaaack! If you want Kiyo somewhere else, feel free to hit me up at

nyanka for plotting.]

[Arrival]

[Napstablook wakes up, suddenly overwhelmed by several new sensations. Pain is something they've never had to feel before, and the sensation causes Napstablook to sit up straight.

They glance at their arms - not short and incorporeal - but long and... fleshy? They have fingers. They have fingers.

They're corporeal, there's no doubt about that. But how? A ghost has to be willing to inhabit a body. They can't be...

They make a short squeak of fear and surprise when they hear nearby footsteps, or shuffling in the sand. Who else could be there with them?]

Pamphlets

[Napstablook keeps stumbling over their own feet as they shuffle through town in a daze. Some passing by might assume that the former ghost had been drinking. But nope, that's just Napstablook learning how to use their new legs. They kind of look like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time, with how much their legs shake.

And that's when pamphlets are shoved into their face.]

oh... no, it's okay... you don't have to bother... umm...

[Because Blooky doesn't really know how to say "no" aggressively enough, they end up with their arms full of pamphlets.]

oh.........

1. Wake me up
The sting of salt and scrape of sand across injuries is more than enough to steal his breath a moment as he wakes up, eyes staying shut for the moment while he considers the situation. The burn of gunpowder is reassuring, Mista must be close, he probably already shot at who or whatever did this. They had been chasing... Silver Chariot Requiem... did something happen, had it been defeated suddenly? But no, why would he have fallen asleep from that? Did it cause souls to swap around again? He supposes the first thing to do is figure out if he is in his own body. Right then he realizes he can't feel Gold Experience, and that is enough to snap his eyes open.

He scrambles to get to his feet, not wanting to be defenseless against whoever else might be here, and fighting to push back dark strands of hair. He wasn't back in Narancia's body, the hair was too long for that, that alone he could tell. In fact, a quick glance to his hands reveals to him they are his own, too familiar to be anything else. He loses his legs from under him, landing on his ass, and he sits there on the beach, looking to who or whatever is greeting him with a genuinely lost expression. Dark hair, looking blue-black in the light, was pulled from what must have been careful styling, curls tumbling into his face and partially obscuring his turquoise eyes.

"Wh-Where am I? What is going on here?" he asks, trying to regain some control, but it leaves the image of a scared child looking for answers, rather than a controlled man like he wants.

2. Looking at you, looking at me
Giorno is no stranger to hateful looks, and while he'd been quiet happy to not live with them lately, feeling those stares back on him came as no surprise. In retaliation he did everything he could to look proud and tall. His hair, dark once more, but still as long as it had grown when it had been blond, was styled in the design he'd adopted with it's length, each hair meticulously placed.

He walks tall, with his chin high, and barely glancing to those who glare at him, as if by failing to acknowledge them, he could force their own venom back at them. Still the pamphlets he accepts, glancing over them with mild intrigue before tucking them away. Or at least he tried to, being handed a pamphlet that said 'If cats can go vegan you can too!' had the teen whipping around to try and find whoever had handed it to him, a lecture already brewing, ready to set whoever was printing this one straight. He certainly didn't read long enough to catch the humor that it was encouraging the consumption of vegans.

4. Everything changes
The sound of the teen grunting as pain hit him, hard, was difficult to miss out on the street. He dropped to the ground very suddenly and curled around himself, trying to gasp for lungful of air after lungful of air. It felt like all the times he'd replaced body parts, the visceral sensation of things reshaping, shifting, moving and reconnecting. He could feel as muscles reshaped themselves, and bones changed shape completely.

As the fog that had slipped up around him pours into his body, one struggling to breathe through the sensation of being unmade and recreated, he writhed on the ground. Legs melt away into a long, thick tail, stretching his body until it feels impossibly long. His mouth opens in a silent scream, showing off a pair of long, thin fangs that easily recede as his expression softens. Clawed hands come up to touch his face, as if to be sure it's still there, as his eyes open, showing the thin, slit pupils in them. The newly minted Naga struggles for a moment to work his new shape, until he is curled around himself, doing a fair imitation of sitting where he'd been.

Smooth scales framed across his cheek bones, and his forehead, the dull grey looking color blending in with his still dark hair. Along his hands and up his arms the scales scattered light a bit, looking like they might have a few blue and green tones to them. From the waist down Giorno was now a snake, one that seemed bland at first look, a dull grey color, almost seeming pewter, until his scales caught the light, sending a ripple of rainbow refraction across the scales. Shivering in the damp and cool weather he looked around, his forked tongue slipping out to taste the air for where his first meal would be, not even realizing the instinctive need driving him yet.

5. Wildcard
[Giorno can be found wandering about exploring the area, and casually picking up money from the people around him. He's a pretty good pickpocket, but not impossible to catch. Or they can run into each other for other reasons, message with questions.]

Scenario 2

"Is this a joke? Ha-ha. What is this, seriously?"

Leo looks genuinely confused as he scans the crowd, trying to discern just how much he should appear to believe this. In fact, he believes everything. Oh, not the specific facts in the pamphlet. His own organization's research contradicts most of them. But he absolutely believes in monsters and hearing that he's going to turn into them is one of the least good things he's ever heard.

Time to find a bookshop, or even to ask human looking passer-bys for some real information.

[Scenario 3]
He's absolutely going to show up at worship services for both gods. Not to plant a brick of dynamite at the alters, though he'd love that. It's time for infiltration and reconnaissance while dressed in a hooded bathrobe.

While there, he makes a post to the network

Disciple5: How can I grow closer to the fog god?

[Pre-Scenario 4]
At the lumberyard, the dry goods store, and several junkyards and weapons shops he plunks down lengths of chain, padlocks, all the materials for homemade restraint devices. He looks apologetically at the person in line behind him.

"Sorry, I have a rather busy night ahead."

[Scenario X]
He might be a researcher, not a field worker, but that doesn't make him incapable. He spends a lot of time setting up monster traps on his apartment roof, looking for scenarios where he could kill monsters and get away with it.

Unfortunately (fortunately?) while he's athletic, he also has bad aim.

Edited 2020-01-14 21:52 (UTC)

[Scenario 2]

[As soon as Marcille came to her senses on the beach, after shaking off drowsiness and confusion and more than a little panic, she realized she needed information. This definitely wasn't the dungeon, or any dungeon... was this even anywhere on the island? No. This was... strange. A land that unsettled her in more ways than one, and the talk of man-eating monsters was the least of her worries.

Ugh. What a pain.]

Fur-bearing trout? Seriously? [... Yeah, looks like her method of gathering information seems to be reading the pamphlets the locals are giving out. The elf is currently sitting on a bench just outside the beach, wringing out her long blonde hair and looking at a few of the pamphlets opened up across her lap and next to her.] Axehounds, bunnyipyips... these are worse than newbie guides to dungeon-diving. At least the fake monsters they made up sound at least a little threatening.

[Shuffle shuffle. It doesn't look like she's too impressed with any of the pamphlets, because after folding each of them up, Marcille chucks them all straight into the nearby trash can.]

What's the point of all that? Spreading misinformation and made-up nonsense is only going to get people killed.

[Scenario 4 - Slime]

Uuuuuggghhhhh.....

[Monster transformation time is never fun. Marcille had read as much as she could, had talked to as many monsters as she could, but nothing could fully prepare her for what she was feeling right now. It was strange; a warm feeling all over, akin somewhat to how she'd felt that time she unfroze from her petrification. Or like when she'd delved into the guts of the Red Dragon, pushing through blood and viscera to try and find the fuel sac where Farlyn's remains had gathered. This hot, slimy feeling all over her body and ugh maybe she's just sweating too much. Marcille reaches her hand up to wipe at her face...

And when she pulls her hand back, something pulls with it. A few ropes of gooey, stringy, mucus-like substance, clinging to her hand and cheek. There's a pause, during which Marcille tugs at the slime connecting her hand and face, before she lets out a startled, frustrated scream.]

You've gotta be kidding me!!!

[Wildcard!]

[Got any other ideas? Wanna throw a plan together real quick? Hit me up at

Kiyuukins!]

< daniel >

i'm finding that the buttons on this contraption remind me of keys on the piano, although i can't quite say whether i've played one before. regardless, this machine is more intuitive than i feared, and i'm relieved -- no, exuberant -- to finally have a connection to the outside world.

my name is daniel. there is little more i can tell you about myself.

i won't ask to go home, but i will ask if there's a way to stave off my transformation. a chemical concoction, perhaps? some sort of ritual? i'm not in the habit of praying to alien gods, but in this instance, i'm prepared to make an allowance.

if the answer is no (and i assume it will be), what would you say is the best way to adjust to your new

appetite?

Arrival

Ugh...

[The first thing that Joey felt when he came to was the warm sand between his fingers and the warm water washing over his legs. Wait...Legs?! He could feel things again? His eyes shot open and he pushed himself up, wincing at the sharp, stinging pain from the cuts all over his body. Pain...He did not miss that part of being alive. Even the ghost bullets that spook shot at him didn't feel this...real and soon faded. This didn't.

As he looked at his ripped and bloody shirt in confusion, he reached for his hat in frustration. Wait...his hat?! It wasn't there! As he looked at his surroundings for his hat, he noticed that he was on a beach somewhere. Well at least it's not snowing where we're at now. Now where was his hat? And Red. Wait, Red?!

RED!

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain as panic started sinking in. Where is she?! She was just- He stopped as his memories came flooding back in. Madeline, the rift in the sky, the saved souls, Rosa...Rosa. Grief settled in his bones as he remembered what happened that night, and the aftermath.

Holding Rosa's cold body as the cold bit at his hands as he begged her to wake up and take his tie. The cold trek to the police station where he tried to explain what happened and who he was. Sleeping on the couch at her apartment as the thought of sleeping in her bed was too much to bear. His struggles with his now alive body and it's many needs. Everything.

Rosa...

He gritted his teeth as the tears he had been trying to repress started to form in his eyes. Why her? Why did she have to die while he lived? Damn Madeline...damn me...He clenched his fists in bitter regret then sighed. She wouldn't want me to be like this...I'm alive now, whether I want to be or not. What did those ghost like to say? Live your life to the fullest? Life's too short? Don't I know that...

Sighing, he started limping away from the shore, hoping to find help.]

Pamphlets

[Joey wasn't used to being looked at with fear and anger. Hell, he wasn't used to people looking at him at all. Being a ghost for almost a century had made him used to not being seen by anyone except for mediums and fellow spooks. The need to open doors instead of just phasing through was especially hard to remember, often resulting in embarrassing situations. He had walked into several door because of this.

Grumbling to himself, he rubbed his sore nose as he skimmed the pamphlets some of the people here were handing out. "Alternatives to human flesh"? "What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)"?! What baloney. Scoffing, he threw those pamphlets away without a second thought. In all his years of being a spirit guide, he had never seen any of these "monsters". Even when he met Gavin and Benjiro, they weren't monsters (physically at least). Even Madeline, while certainly monstrous with her actions, was just a spirit guide like him.

Just some people off one's nuts. Though the dedication to this scam is....impressive. As he looked at the last pamphlet that was given to him, the name caught his attention.]

"How To Deal With Changes"? Heh...this one might actually be useful.

Ch-ch-changes!

[Okay, he was in a different world where there was a "Fog God" that turned people into monsters...Great. Despite his best attempt, he couldn't deny things forever. The proof was all around him. Werewolves, snake people, trolls?! All real here. He had even talked to some of these monsters. There was only a matter of time before he gave in and accepted this as his life now. Still, knowing that you were going to change into a monster soon and actually turning into one are two very different things. As he would soon find out.

As he reached for the coffee cup on the table that morning, his hand went right through! Wait, what?! Startled out of his drowsiness, he stared at the cup in shock. As he tried again to reach for it, he noticed that his hand looked shadowy and ghostly. He let out a shout of alarm as he watched the rest of his arm start to rot. Rotted bits of flesh and fabric fell to the floor. Only a shadowy arm remained. Well this is different. He watched in horror as his other arm rotted quickly rotted away. He wasn't prepared for his legs to be next and he fell against the table, taking his morning coffee with him. He screamed in agony as the hot coffee scalded his chest, which seemed to be rotting faster now. There was nothing he could do but watch as the rest of his body rotted away. When it was over he stepped away his ghastly rotted remains. He shivered in disgust. Euugh, well that was a thing that happened. He looked down at his shadowy hand.

You've got to be kidding me!

He rushed to a mirror to confirm his suspicions. He didn't look like his usual ghostly self. He was just a shadowy silhouette with glowing eyes.

Great! I don't even have a body!

He was a spook again. Great, just great. He was just getting used to being alive again and now this happens. Does the Fog god hate him or something? Muttering curses, he shoved his hands into his now nonexistent pockets out of habit. When he realized he didn't even have pockets anymore he threw his hand up in exasperation and stormed through the closed door.

Well he was able to be seen at least. And heard he guessed from the looks people were giving him. He was pissed. Rosa had used her remaining power and life to bring him back to life and now he was dead. Again.

Great, just great. You couldn't stay alive for even one year could you? Hell, even a half a year! Damn it. Damn it!

The beach

[Altair washed up onto an unfamiliar beach, coughing up sea water and sand. His body hurt all over. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was heading to a meeting with the Order with Sirius. Sirius! He couldn’t hear his soul anywhere. In fact, he couldn’t hear any souls. Just where was he? Even if there weren’t any living creatures nearby, he should be able to feel his connection to Her at least, but he didn’t feel anything. What the hell was going on? He started to push himself up so he could look around when a shadow fell over him and he heard the familiar click of a gun.]

Don’t move. Dammit, another monster to be. Aren’t there enough of you already.

[Altair stared down at the shadow in disbelief. He couldn’t hear anything, and he couldn’t sense the rift either. What the hell? Why couldn’t he hear this guy’s soul? Was he a robot? He sounded human, but then why? He couldn’t sense Her either. Did those bastards find a way to block their magic? He knew they shouldn’t have trusted them.]

Heh, so much for peace. What the hell did you bastards do?

Peace!? With monsters that hunt us down and eat us?

[Altair gritted his teeth and clenched the sand underneath his hand, barely containing his rage. Is that what the Order was telling everyone. That they ate people? It was bad enough that the Order thought they were going to destroy the world but now they had turned them into man eating monsters. After everything they had done to try to work with these bastards. He tried to keep his voice even. He needed to get out of this mess alive and find Sirius. If he heard any of this, it would break him. He had to find him first.]

We haven’t eaten anyone.

[He tried to get into a better position, but his attacker pushed the gun painfully against his head, pushing him back down.]

I said don’t move! Maybe not yet, but you will after you change. Every monster does. This might not kill you but at least you won’t hurt anyone for a while.

[Altair’s eyes narrowed. A pointed blank shot to the head wouldn’t kill him? He’ll be back? What the hell was this guy talking about? This didn’t sound like Order propaganda anymore. The gun pressed against his head shook. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t prepared to kill someone, he was scared. If the Order wanted him dead, they wouldn’t leave his execution to an amateur like this. None of this made any sense.

One thing did become clear though, this guy had some reservation about killing him, otherwise he would already be dead. That was all he needed to know right now. He could deal with everything else after he got out of this mess. He quickly rolled to the side and flung some sand at his opponent’s face.]

Wha..Hey! You bastard!

[The man fired his shotgun. Altair’s eyes widened when he saw the gun. Damn, he had a shotgun? He cried out as the shot hit his shoulder. His opponent staggered back and rubbed at his eyes. Altair’s shoulder burned with pain, but he didn’t have time to worry about that right now. The sand wouldn’t distract this guy for long. He grabbed his leg and pulled. The guy lost his balance and fell, firing a second shot into the air. He dropped the shotgun when he crashed into the sand. Altair snatched the fallen gun and swung it at his head. The man stopped moving. With a shaking hand, Altair checked for a pulse. He was still alive. Thank goodness. He rolled onto his back with a loud sigh. Well that could have gone better. After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, he slowly got to his feet. The pain in his shoulder flared up as he moved. He couldn’t stay here. Someone might have heard the shots. ]

Pamphlets

[Altair slipped into a nearby ally. After his encounter on the beach he didn’t trust these people and he couldn’t stand their fake smiles anymore. He leaned against the wall and opened one of the pamphlets that was forced on him. Bunnyips? Fur bearing Trout? These weren’t helpful at all. He sighed. Looks like he was going to have to talk to people if he wanted any useful information. Great. He didn’t want to deal with the locals again, so he lurked at the entrance of the alley and stopped the first monster he saw.]

Hey, You got a minute?

Changes

[Altair suddenly felt extremely dizzy and he staggered against a nearby wall. What the hell? He felt fine just a second ago. Was it the changes everyone warned him about? If it was, he should head home. He didn’t want to change on the streets. The world swam with each step and it was getting difficult to breathe. He felt himself falling and then everything turned black.

He felt like he was drowning in a pitch-black sea. This felt eerily familiar. He knew it wasn’t the sea of souls, but it was too similar and brought back unpleasant memories. He needed to get out of here. He swam upwards. For some reason he felt like it was the way out of here. His head broke the surface of the water and he looked around. Wait. He was back in the streets. Then what was this strange black sea he was swimming in? Out of habit he pulled himself out of the water and rested on the black waves like it was nothing. That shouldn’t have worked. This wasn’t the sea of souls. He shouldn’t be able to walk on water here. He looked down at the dark water below him. Just what the hell was going on? The water rippled and shifted into the shape of his own body. He let out a scream and glided? away from his body?]

Huh?

[Since when did he glide? He looked down. All he saw was a shadow where his legs once were. Where did his legs go? And how was he outside of his own body? He turned his attention back to his body, just in time to see it disintegrate into a pile of ash.]

What the hell?

[Freaking out, he glided away from what remained of his body. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Ok. So his body turned to ash, he can glide now and he was some sort of shadow monster……..A shadow. Again?! Of all the monsters he could have turned into he got the shadow monster?! The whole situation was so cruel he couldn’t help but laugh.]

[01 It's a Sticky Situation]

[Her day had been going great, and while she remembered sitting down for a movie, she did not recall going for a dip in the harbor. Spitting out sand, and sitting in soaked jeans did not a happy Peace make. Still, at least she didn't manage to drown.]

OK, first, gonna pinch myself, because I'm pretty sure movies don't offer this. [She pinches the pale skin of her inner wrist, as though the numerous little seawater-stung cuts aren't good enough proof.] OK. Ow.

Where am I? [She sadly tries to shake the water out of her cellphone, but there is no bringing it back to life, and a little part of her really, really wants to stay hidden. What if someone mistakes her for a fox? Or Big Foot? Or a really small Godzilla? The rest of her, still shaking the water out of her phone, walks forward.] Hello? Anyone out there? I'm not, like, a deer or anything so don't shoot...! Hah.. ha? Hello?

[02 Heaven Knows What the Outcome Will Be]

[If there's one thing Peace knows how to do, it's run from a situation. Specifically, a situation that involves pitchforks.] Notawitch! Notawitch!

[She knows better than to run in the woods, but the posse of angry villagers behind her won't stop, so into the woods it is. She doffs a brightly colored jacket, and throws a rock in a different area to avoid notice. Maybe she got lucky and they stopped at the edge, too wise to follow her in. Regardless, Peace does not stop for nearly a half mile, before she hits the edge of a clearing and collapses to catch her breath.]

1 - Arrival

While he had most definitely wanted to trade in the blistering heat of Mustafar for something much cooler, this isn't exactly what he had in mind. Obi-Wan found himself waking up in a place he had not at all expected. His Jedi robes, which had been singed by falling ash, were now completely soaked through and heavy.

With a mouth full of sand, the Jedi sputtered and coughed, spitting the offending grit out. He suddenly felt like he could relate with Anakin's aversion to the stuff.

Anakin

A surge of grief filled his heart, and he tried to release it into the Force. ... The Force. There's something very wrong here. He couldn't feel it, he couldn't sense anything around him.

Thus as he tries to push himself up, fighting back panic, he doesn't expect to see the barrel of a shotgun pointed right at him. Blue eyes blink at it in confusion. Was it a blaster? It didn't look quite right. Either way, he could see the fear in the eyes of the person who held it. It was clearly a weapon of some sort.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you," Obi-Wan says as calmly as he can muster while raising his hands.

2 - Pamphlets

Obi-Wan is nothing if not a studious sort. Thus as soon as he managed to get his bearings, he quickly started looking for as much information about this place as he possibly could. There were all sorts of questions, naturally. How did he get here? Why was he here? What happened to his link to the Force? He managed to get some answers, though most were not very satisfying.

Even so, he had to start adjusting to his surroundings, and supposedly wait for the inevitable change that would occur. So when he had varying pamphlets shoved at him, he was more than happy to take them.

Thus Obi-Wan could easily be found sitting on a random bench, one booted leg resting on his knee and looking rather comfortable, while perusing through the little stack. His hand idly stroking his ruddy beard as he read, seemingly not paying attention to much else around him. The one titled "Alternatives to Human Flesh" was of particular interest to him, as was "The Change and You". The more silly and unhelpful ones had been sorted into their own pile and rested next to him.

4 - The Changening

It was bound to happen. He knew that it would. Though honestly Obi-Wan had hoped to find some sort of escape or solution before it did. That was clearly not the case however.

The Jedi could be found sitting in the shade of a tree, doing his best to meditate. He just didn't feel right. He knew that it must be happening, and it certainly was. On top of the strange feelings, his eyes felt oddly sensitive to light, thus why he was in the shade.

Not only that, but his nails were growing at an alarming rate, making it almost look like he had claws. Any effort to trim them didn't last for very long.

Then there was the headaches and the pain as a pair of pointed horns erupted from his head. It didn't take long for them to branch out into a couple tines, making it clear that they were actually antlers.

Despite having read about it all, it hadn't been quite enough to prepare him for what was coming, and the almost empty comfort of meditation was the only thing he had to try and cope.

Edited 2020-02-02 17:32 (UTC)

1. Arrival

[ Washed up on a beach. That's fine. That's only the exact last place Rey wants to be right now. Where she does want to be, she isn't quite sure, but she knows she doesn't want to be here.

...Wherever here is.

She wastes no time picking herself up and marching off towards the nearest signs of life, be they someone else standing on the beach, or that town in the distance. However far she has to walk, she'll do it. She needs to get off this planet and go... Somewhere else.

Once she finds another living soul, she'll stride confidently up to them and demand, ] I need a ship. I don't know what happened to mine, but I need to get off-world.

2. Pamphlets

[ Rey needs information. And right now, the best way to get information is to read as many of these brochures as possible. Except no, once she's read them she realizes that a terrible way of getting information. She doesn't have any answers. All she has are more questions. So, she flags down someone who looks like they might be able to help her. ]

Excuse me... What is a "bunnyipyip?" Or— or... [ She leafs through the brochures for the one she's looking for. ] ...a "fur bearing trout?" Do trouts not normally have fur?

[ She's so far outside her element, it's not even funny. ]

3. Meditation

Still so very, very lost and confused, Rey decides to take a moment to center herself in the Force before going out to learn more about this new place. She finds a secluded spot to sit, cross legged, and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Be with me," she says quietly to herself. "Be with me."

....Nothing. And not the usual nothing she feels when she has trouble connecting with the spirits of the Jedi who came before her. Actual nothing. No response. No Force. Just an emptiness so vast, its silence is loud inside her.

"Be with me," she tries again, more forcefully, as though if she tries harder, she can bring the Force back from wherever it's gone. Her teeth clench, her hands ball into fists.

"Be. With. Me!"

[ ooc: Will match brackets or prose! HMU @

objectpermanence if you want to plot something else! ]

Edited 2020-02-08 00:47 (UTC)

1. Dazed and confused.

[ Toph isn't sure what happened. One moment she was falling from an airship, then everything went blank, and she was here? Did she hit the ground? Land in the water somehow?

She crawls onto her knees and hands, spitting out sand and seawater with an unpleasant 'blech!' sound! Everything hurts, the soreness growing as her senses start to return again and she sinks back to sit in the sand. ]

What the-... A beach? Where-?

[ She can't see anything, not that that's unusual in the sand, only hearing the gentle waves crashing behind her, and the light sounds of seabirds cawing. It's worrying, she wasn't anywhere near a beach when she fell.

Then she hears footsteps in the sand, and her head perks right up, not bothering to turn to face whoever's there. ]

Who's there!?

[ It might be you... it might be a native holding a gun. She won't recognize the click of a firearm. ]

2. Scared and frustrated.

[ This isn't right... Something is so very wrong. Through sheer luck or some timely help, she's managed to find her way into Vandare proper, wandering the streets carefully. A deep, uncertain frown is plastered across her lips. In the sand it made sense, she couldn't see that well in sand anyway... But even here, her bending didn't work, and with it, her 'vision'.

Somehow, that was even more terrifying than being brought somewhere familiar. For the first time in a while she actually felt helpless. But she could talk to people, and figure something out. If the people here were actually helpful... ]

Stop handing me those stupid pamphlets!

[ Her brows furrowed, taking one of the papers and just ripping it up after another random native tried to shove them into her hands. Some even apologized after, but it just kept happening!]

3. Wildcard

[ Want to find Toph somewhere else? Or have an idea you want to run by me? This is the prompt for that! Can also discord me: Hantale #0295, or plurk hantale to plot something~]

Edited 2020-02-09 07:01 (UTC)

[ 2 ]

[Molly isn't much one for reading, but he's even worse when it comes to talking and snatches the offered pamphlets with a grunt before stuffing them under his belt and continuing on his way. The titles he caught glimpses of were enough to clue him in for the time being, and he'd be able to take a closer look later, probably along with someone who had taken a keener interest in the contents. His muscles don't lose their tension when he tells himself this, and he resigns himself to the pain of that tomorrow, as well as an ache in his jaw and head from how hard he was clenching his teeth in frustration.

This sucks. This really fucking sucks.

Out of the corner of his eye he catches a middle aged woman watching him with eyes that may as well be ice, from the coldness in her glare more than the pale blue of them. With the information he'd been able to pick up, mostly from listening in on more personable people's conversations, Molly's realized already that it's due to their status as monster-bound foreigners, rather than the thinner point to his ears than that of the humans around that he instinctively reaches up to hide anyway by taking down the main tie in his long curls and tousling them into a loose mane. He'll take the extra cover over the advantage that came with keeping his hair back when it came to a fight.]

Not that these fucking assholes have done much fucking more than gape... Shit, do I gotta start all the fights around here?

[He's...definitely considering it.]

--𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙾 𝚃𝚆𝙾

(Johanna walks swift and hard, trying to pass the people handing out the pamphlets. Eventually someone calls out something that gets her attention-- "We're trying to help!" Which... pisses her off. She doesn't need help and continues her angry strut through town. She even throws her hand out at one of the pamphleteers, causing them to spill the leaflets.)

I don't need anyone's fucking help.

(Truth is, she's scared. It makes her like a cornered animal. It's even worse when the other locals fondle their sharp objects while looking at her hatefully. She flips everyone off with both hands and turns, running right into someone.)

What now??

--𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴

(She is in an arcade. But she doesn't know that. Johanna Mason has never seen an arcade, and is amazed at the sight of it. Like a cat seeing a Christmas tree for the first time, Johanna gazes into the bright lights of a pinball machine. She nearly trips over a robot, only to go back and sort of... graze it with her hand. Everything is smooth and shiny and she can't help but shout.)

Wow!

--𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙾 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝚁

(Her skin starts to shed. Not in chunks, no, not at first. It's flakey. Then it's really itchy, until she's bleeding. Then she's pulling away the skin in horror, to reveal green scales.

She really is a snake.

The bottom half of Johanna is a powerful body, singular in every way. Slick and long and circular. She coils up and protects her top half, still a woman. Breasts, dark skin, and strong arms.

Somehow, this feels right.)

--W̸̰̾̊̑̑̉̄͗̀Į̵̳̪̖̞̯̮͔̙́͂͑̏̋̃̊͑L̶͚̮͕̦̞͉̭͂͊̾̾̃̀̚ͅD̶̮̟͇͎̘̑̆͐̔͜C̸̢̙͍̗̣͍̰̗̈̎͌͜Ạ̷̻̺͔̫̈́̾͒̈́͠R̴͎͔͒͌̓͗̊́̚̚͠D̸̢̛̠̱̭̃͗̈́̔̽͌͘͝͝ͅ

i. weird science

[The most distressing thing about this change of scenery is not the fact that she's been separated from the rest of the faculty at VILE, but rather, the fact that she does not have any access to the technology she normally would have. Yes, returning to VILE will obviously be a top priority, but how is she to even reach out to them without the proper communication systems she had? And how is she even supposed to ensure that it is secure?

Dr. Bellum has already wandered into Vandare and picked up one of the laptops, but the locals provide little help in terms of understanding the technology. Any and all questioning tends to result in a dead end--usually accompanied by mumbling and shoving unrelated pamphlets into her gloved hands.]

This is all very interesting, but I would appreciate if you could point me in the direction of some form of technology that does not predate the invention of the World Wide Web.

[Eventually, she gives up and decides instead to sit in a local cafe and attempt to disassemble the laptop. Perhaps this way, she can understand the inner workings and rewire it for her own purposes. She's done more with less in the past, after all. Eventually, she becomes aware of someone watching her work. Regardless of whether or not they appear monstrous in nature, she snaps at them--]

You, there. Make yourself useful and find me some copper.

ii. network post | un: < Ω >

I find it perplexing that so many of the monsters brought here bemoan their current condition. You have become more powerful than you could have ever been as humans, and yet, you continue to be caught up on the fact that you must kill human beings to survive.

Is it not necessary for a snake to eat mice to live? For the lion to hunt the antelope? A mouse suffers the same pain and agony as a human would, and yet, we hardly blink twice at the snake. These are necessary evils to keep these animals alive, and, in our case, for us to accomplish your goals, whatever they may be. These lives are not important in the long run.

And if you still are not happy, you could bother spending that same energy you use to complain to change your attitude or your circumstances.

iii. wildcard

[just do what you want idk. talk to me @

wolfnoir.]

TWO - We're not on Mars anymore, Toto

No-- no, thank you-- oh okay, well--

[Spike is having a bit of a hard time. He's used to crowds-- loves them, even-- but not used to them climbing all over him to shove pamphlets in his hands. His blue suit and dark curls stick out like a sore thumb, especially with his height, and the sheepish look on his face is pretty easy to see.

What's also easy to see is that the sheepish dumbass has a bandage wrapped around his head to cover one eye, too.]

Alright, alright, well, thank you for your time, but uh, I've really gotta get going. I appreciate it-- really, I've gotta-- thanks!

[He practically climbs over the-- ah, that's a good idea, he realises, bracing his hand on a man's shoulder to boost himself and flip himself over, evading the crowd with the acrobatics. He sets off immediately, looking back with his good eye to give them another apologetic smile--

only to run smack into another monster in his blind spot.]

Fuck-- jeez, shit, sorry.

[Comes his apology, as he steps back a bit to see who exactly he's bumped into.]

FOUR - Slime Time

[For a few weeks now, Spike's arms have been..... weird. They've slowly turned dark and transparent and weird, almost shimmery like stardust mixing into a dark liquor. He's paid it little mind, having already had his mind ravaged by the idea of becoming a real monster.

As he sits on a bavanese bench out in the dusk nursing a cigarette, he stares at those hands of his, the quiet footsteps of the fading crowds becoming a far away rhythm. He turns them over and over, as if trying to puzzle them out--

and then suddenly they begin to drip.

Spike jolts back to reality as his fingers drip away into a pool of shimmering dark liquid on the ground between his legs, blinking with a wide eye at them-- then tries to scramble away as more and more of his arms drip and decay. But then it's not just his arms. His hair drips, his face drips, the black shimmering liquid travelling up his arms and over his body as he becomes all at once a slime. His newly-liquid body trickles out of his suit into that same growing pool, his panicked scream getting caught in a bubbly gurgle, until all that's left on the bench are some sticky clothes and a bandage.

He's left on the ground looking like a child's youtube experiment, convulsing and bubbling in his attempt to understand what's just happened, occasionally forming a desperate hand to try and pull up.

After a few rounds of no luck, Spike pushes himself up like he's resurfacing from the water and--- and he does, flipping his head out of the pool and gasping for a breath he doesn't realize he didn't need to take.

...Then he's just a head sticking out of the sidewalk surrounded by a pool of liquid. Gross.]

Hey. Hey, what the fuck?!

[Comes his near-hysterical exclamation as he looks frantically around.]

What the hell just happened?!

[ONE]

[It was another nightmare, or so he thought. They were all very similar these days, a living horror on loop of his own doing. Plunging into the icy sea though, that was a new one. It isn't until the chill makes Varian's teeth rattle in his skull that he comes to with a start and a painfully sharp gasp, pushing himself up from the sand.]

No-! What-?!

[He shakes his head briskly to chase away the last dredges of just what that was- a nightmare- only to squint around himself into the fog to realize...well, he's not exactly in Old Corona anymore. And that familiar nightmare is currently the least of his worries as he brings his head back around to the gun leveled at his head.]

Oh no.

[He's never seen a gun; he's seen crossbows, but nothing quite like this. In any other circumstance he'd be a bit more interested, inclined to want to find out what it is and how it works, but he's smart enough to know without reading into it that it is a weapon. A weapon that fires with gunpowder so thick in the air that he can taste it. Whatever it is, it's fiercely dangerous, and it's poised with the intent to kill.]

Hey now, hey! Take it easy, c'mon we- we uh, I'm not looking for any trouble here! I just sort of...you know, washed up, so I uh...I have as little idea as you as to what I'm doing, SO-

[Varian leans back on his heels, pressing his sandy gloves together before jerking a thumb over his shoulder.]

I'm just gonna goooo-okay, okay right, no position to be making declarations, I get that-!

[Both hands raise placatingly- he hopes- as the local presses the gun firmly against his forehead, finger ready to squeeze the trigger.]

[TWO]

[Somehow, after managing to get away from the locals in one piece, Varian had relocated himself to the first "safe" town he could after getting the hell out of Vandare: Bavan. He'd taken every phamplet he'd been handed and had poured over every single one, even now sitting on the steps leading up to what he thinks (hopes) is an abandoned establishment as he stares at the last one he'd gone over, "Alternatives to Human Flesh".

LIKE...]

Okay Varian, let's...not panic. Let's make a pros and cons list, okay?

[He's talking to himself, either ignoring or not realizing that the already distrustful locals are watching or hurrying past him like they expect him to eat them at any moment. He starts to count off on his fingers, the pamplet clutched halfway in his other hand as he pulls each finger down.]

You've woken up in some place that definitely is not Corona, nor any place you've ever even seen on a map, but you've already got a wealth of information on how this place operates. Oooon the other hand, it apparently is enchanted in some way that makes people turn into bloodthirsty, man-eating, c-...cannibalistic- [He swallows, then shakes his head.] -that, just all of that. But it's fine! It's fine. You've gone through worse, Varian. Any enchantment can be de-enchanted, and magic is never a match when there's Alchemy to be...well, Alchemized.

[He stuffs the pamplet into his pocket before patting himself down, smiling.]

All I have to do is just take a few samples of these enchanted few, and I'll be able to come up with an antidote! Or some other relief, at the very least...which would be easier if I had...any of my supplies. At all.

[He groans, dropping his head into his hands upon realizing that the most he has in his pockets right now is lint. Not really useful.]

[FOUR - TROLL (some s1 spoilers here)]

[Stones have been appearing on Varian's body. It's a sign of the enchantment, or sickness, or whatever people are calling it. He's not had much at his disposal to try and figure it out yet, but he at least could do a bit of study without his usual tools. It's just taking much longer than normal. From what he could tell they were real, genuine stones. Dragon's vein, green on his left and a purplish-magenta on his right. And they aren't coming off. If anything, they're growing, and more are appearing each day.

Now more than ever is he trying to come up with some scientific solution for all of this even against everyone who tells him it's impossible, that nothing he can do will work. Nothing's ever been done that someone hasn't tried, and if he can at least say he's tried, then that's more than some have done.

What he isn't prepared for, though, is the amber.

The amber creeping from his shoulders, coiling up around his neck, starting to seep from his scalp. It grows in fast, and it's scarier for Varian than anything he's gone through here so far. It's worse than the locals, worse than the cannibal thing, worse than knowing he may someday end up going berserk and killing someone if this progresses too far. Varian, desperate to try and get rid of the source, hasn't been seen in days by anyone who's met him so far, secluded in one of those many abandoned buildings that he's made into a makeshift home for himself.]

Come on, come on there- has to be something!

[His voice can be heard muffled through the walls as he spreads out pages of notes scribbled with charcoal on the wood floor, his hands clawed and studded with stones as he tries to find something in what he's written during his time here. He fights the thrill of panic in his veins as he feels the amber growing even as he reads, his hands shaking so hard he drops the papers he tries to move.]

I have to stop it, now!

Betelgeuse’s eyes scanned the pamphlet and skipped over the words. It wasn’t written in a language he could read well, so he just opted to look at the pictures instead. Reading was too much effort.

He opened the book and flipped through the pages, glancing at the images that interested him. A bunch of living people. Boring. Some monsters he couldn’t identify. Eh. A couple of--

“whoA HO HO! WHAT’D WE GOT HERE!” He hooted, opening up the pamphlet to a spread about mermaids, “YOU DIDN’T TELL ME IT WAS THIS KINDA MAGAZINE!”

The native whom had given him the pamphlet shifted uncomfortably on their feet.

“Uh--I’m sorry? Y...Did you read the intro?” they asked. Betelgeuse ignored them, or possibly didn’t register that they’d said anything at all, and just continued to flip through the mermaid section.

“I can’t believe you people are just givin’ this stuff away in the streets. Back when I was alive we couldn’t hoOH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT?” Betelgeuse said, pointing at the page.

The native leaned over to see what he was looking at.

“That’s a mermaid” they said.

“WHAT”

“It says right up here that--” the native began, but Betelgeuse interrupted him.

“Those aren’t mermaids! No way! That thing is nasty! Look at the teeth!! What happened to the hot nudie ones?!”

The native took a deep breath.

“.....If you read the intro here, it will explain everything” They explained.

Betelgeuse shook his head.

“No, nu-uh, I’m done with these. This is the worst porno mag I’ve ever read. I’m goin’ home, fuck this” he said. He ripped out the page about mermaids that he’d been ogling, shoved it into his coat pocket and handed the rest of the pamphlet back.

Edited 2020-02-23 02:42 (UTC)

I. ARRIVAL

[It's important to ground oneself when panic starts to rise. Panic can provoke the need for action, but it can also cloud one's judgement. The man in the brown jacket knows he will not do well without his wits about him, and so he grounds himself.

He is currently in one piece. No weapon, no comms, and no creds, but he is in one piece, and that will have to be sufficient. The superficial injuries on his skin and the unpleasant aftertaste of salt and sand are clues more than they are irritants. He is on a beach, and given that he was likely pushed ashore by the flow of tide, he is luckier than many. The ocean could have been more acidic, the air could have been unbreathable, and the sediment could have been poisonous. There don't appear to be high levels of radiation immediately noticeable in this area.

He is luckier than most, the man reminds himself as he refamiliarizes himself with waking. With movement. With a melody that he must remember.

The man allows that particular regret to sit a moment longer than strictly necessary. His mind remains unstill.

Perhaps that is why, when he hears footsteps in the wet sand, he grasps foolishly for a gun that isn't there. The rattling discontent in his head has made himself known once again, and he's hungry for more. The man doesn't have the decency to be glad of the gun's absence in light of this.]

Tell me what planet we are on and where the nearest and fastest mode of transport is.

[His voice may be pressured and urgent, but his tone is as level and steady as always. That discontent would have to try harder to undo seven years of practiced temperance.]

II. HAGGLING.

Bavan is a far cry from modern society in the Solar System, but it is a start. The man doesn't have the arrogance to tell himself he can build a space-worthy vessel from scratch, so he does not try. He does what he can with the resources he has, which are very little. The only option he sees for the moment is to adapt.

So he does what anyone on strict budget does. He haggles.

He got as far as saying to a (fellow, for however much longer) human clerk at a produce stall, "This is a smaller than average vegetable. I will pay you half its posted price." It has since been several minutes of back and forth, while the clerk has increasingly lost their patience trying to engage with him, and the man in the brown jacket has either simply repeated, "I will pay you half its posted price," or supplied additional commentary on, for example, the lack of ripeness in the tomatoes or the presence of bitter pit damage on an apple. He always seems to find the smallest of each of these pieces of produce.

This nightmare exchange has gone on too long, yet shows no sign of stopping.

III. .............SLIME MAN. ( cw: ryslig-typical body horror )

[There is very little one can do to prepare for unpredictable physiological changes of this magnitude. For his part, the man who may or may not by now have introduced himself to people as Jet tried. Without guidance, he had nothing to do other than to meditate on it, but he refused to avoid the issue and let carelessness catch up with him.

Regardless, there isn't much he could have done. The fact of the matter is this: he had left his current lodgings for the day, because idleness leads to boredom which leads to undesirable impulse. He had eventually gone to a cafe that boasted outdoor seating and ordered a decaffeinated tea because he was thirsty. He had pulled open a book in order to read it. The flesh of his fingers had, after all of this, simply depressed against the table. And when they were pulled away, they retained that shape.

It's not something that escapes notice, when one's hand begins to behave as if it were melting wax, pliant to pressure and doughy in both form and texture. Jet's first mistake was needing to investigate the issue, because further pressure has only malformed the hand completely. It was immediately clear that, at some point, his right hand simply no longer possessed the stability that bone afforded it.

Jet may later like to think he acted the only way one could in such a situation, but truthfully, there are infinite ways to react to something innately horrifying. He had never suffered the radiation damage that he knew countless people on Mars experienced, but he had seen some of its worst, and this was similar enough that his mind went to the medical over the metaphysical. His choice relied on his first impulse, and it was to squeeze the "wound".

That was the breaking point. The remains of what was once Jet's right hand appeared to burst with a wet pop, no longer like wax but purely shapeless liquid spilling the hand, the arm, everything starting from the shoulder out of the sleeve of his brown jacket, gathering in a semitransparent pool of near-black interrupted with flecks of very bright green. The puddle is audible as it squelches back together as if still attached to its origin, rejoining him through his socks, but not reforming back as the limb it once was. It simply was part of him again. This part was quick; the subsequent jumping from his seat and crashing of chair and table as furniture was thrown away in the struggle of pure panic and broken decorative glassware leaves a drawn out, excruciating silence.

So all in all, not a great morning.]

IV. WILDCARD.

[Do what thou wilt. I'll match prose or brackets, and I'm at erlking.]

Angela | Marvel-616

Haku | Naruto

Ognian | Girl Genius

Bethan Costigan | OC