INTRO LOG: FACE OFF

[hadrielmods]

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for November. Don't get your face eaten!
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: November 10th-17th
Warnings: Monster-related violence, people lamps, general unpleasantness, mass confusion.

You wake up on the hard earth of the colosseum. By the state of things and the various aches and pains in your body, you've probably been passed out there for awhile. A few things should immediately become clear to you upon an initial assessment.

1. You're not alone
2. You're near other people who look to be in a similar state.
3. You're also near an assortment of human shaped lamps.
4. You're also near something that skitters off into the shadows of the colosseum.

Of all of these alarming things, the skittery object might be your largest concern. Be wary when turning corners or shutting out the lights: the Hunters work best when your vision is obscured, so their gelatinous form is even harder to spot. Their main goal will be to kill people of course, though they prefer to hide in corners and smaller rooms. Watch out when trying to work through the halls of the colosseum to find the outdoors- they're surprisingly quick, and they prefer to kill their prey by opening their face-flaps and wrapping their mouths around your head. Fun!

More information on Hunters can be found here!

Second largest concern? Maybe it's the people lamps. Maybe it's the actual people around you. Whatever it is, be sure to familiarize yourself with it quickly. The devil you know is better than the devil you don't, after all.

All done with the horrible monsters and awkward greetings? Try your hand at exploring the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies until your little heart is content. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers November 10th-17th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well!
► All characters now arrive with phones that have network communication.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

Comments

Bob Saginowski. Open

[dangerous_dog]

10: for newcomers

Bob wakes up gradually, to the feel of someone licking his face. It's enough to disorient him at first into thinking he's at home; he reaches up to rub a hand along Rocco's back, to make a good morning noise at the eager puppy, to shush his whimpering- he'll let him out, it's okay, buddy, it's okay-

It's not okay. He sits up off the cold stone, drawing Rocco into his arms, and working his way achily to his feet.

Behind him, something scuttles. Bob spins, and feels at his belt for the gun.

12: for old residents

It takes him a miserable, disoriented spell to get himself and his dog out of the coliseum. By the time Bob Sagniowski staggers out into the Hadriel streets, he is muddy, bloody, thirsty and hungry. He hits his knees on the cold concrete and shivers, pressing his palms into the solid ground, before looking up, on the verge of collapsing, and finally croaking for help.

17: for everyone

It takes a few days to settle in, find his stride. But by the end of the week, Bob finds that the impulse to run, to hide, to try and claw his way out of the imaginary exits. Then, and only then, when he is beaten up, and beaten down, and Rocco's tail is in a permanent traumatized tuck between his legs, does he make his way to one of the spires.

If he can't go home, he has to make at least a semblance of one.

12!

[casperdisaster]

Ever since certain events back from where they were before involving tainted water came into play, Noah's got a habit of carrying a full water bottle with him everywhere along with his knife, phone, and flashlight. He's a regular boy scout.

He doesn't like going anywhere near the coliseum ever since he arrived there himself, but his walk today takes him that way, bag slung over his shoulder with some more foods.

He hears a thud and that causes him to stop, afraid. But then there's the very faint call for help, and Noah comes running.

"Oh my - oh, geeze, okay, uh - it's gonna be okay, you're - well, you're going to be okay." he says as he jogs over, breathless. He's not really sure what exactly to do, this seems like a whole mess of problems he isn't at all equipped to handle but gosh darn it he's going to try.

17!

[orcsurfing]

There's a comfort to wearing armour, especially so few days into his stay here. The relative peace he doesn't trust, especially not with what that first day looked like, and he kept his weapons on him at all times. Hithlum always somewhere nearby, even if not right by his side. All it took was a whistle to draw the mount to his side, tangible and ready to flee where he would lead it.

Out of the corner of his eye something catches his attention, movement- but it's no monster this time, but a Man instead. The familiarity of his face is what draws Legolas, makes him turn his step and approach. The closer he is, though, and the more he sees, the quicker his pace. Terrible shape, face familiar yet this man felt distinctly different from the one he met on the first day. They were two different people, that much was clear. How thoroughly peculiar. Still, it doesn't stop Legolas from asking-

"Were you attacked out in the city?" The puppy, curled up carefully against the stranger's chest, draws Legolas's attention as well. Were the circumstance any different, he would reach out to stroke the puppy's head, murmur some comforting words in Elvish, but there is no saying just how jumpy the stranger is and he's not out here to fight others in the same situation as himself. So he keeps his hands to himself, but his concern for both the Man and the dog is visible enough, "Is he hurt as well?"

17

[unknowable]

Adam spends a certain amount of time out in the city, checking the shops for anything that might be of use and learning his way around. Without any real maps or much besides some landmarks, it's best if he gets used to it as quickly as possible.

And really, it isn't a surprise to come across someone who looks like they've come out poorly in a fight. Not with the strange creatures that show up sometimes, not to mention the strange people. Of whom this man might be part, and Adam considers walking on by, but in the end, he chooses not to. They've got to find allies somehow, after all.

"Ah - excuse me. Are you all right?"

Max - Mad Max: Fury Road - all options open

[o_negative]

a. waking up/in the arena
Max wakes with a violent jolt, the image of a young girl, Glory, torn apart by some kind of bizarre looking black creature he didn't recognize seared into his mind. It only takes a moment before the burst of adrenaline gives way for both old aches and new ones.

Pushing himself up, his hand brushes something hard that makes a quiet, but echoing clatter. Looking down in confusion, he once again reacts with a violent, quick jolt, smacking the strange baby shaped light further away from him. He immediately regrets it, the lamp making a louder racket as it tumbles across the floor, and Max just barely catches something moving in the dark.... or had he? He blinks a few times, alert and on edge, but nothing else moves, and he has more pressing things to think about like where the fuck he was, how he'd gotten here and who these other people were.

The last thing he remembers, he was leaving the Citadel.

b. hallways + hunters
Leaving the open, lit space of the main arena was a calculated gamble. They'd woken up there, so the assumption was someone had put them there. Whoever that someone was had knocked out a fairly large group of people, so it was best not to stick around. The lamps and strange noises hadn't boded well either, but these tight dark corridors offered their own set of problems.

There didn't seem to be any good options. Sticking with a few others seemed like a smart thing to do. At best they could watch each others' backs, at worst, Max knew he didn't really need to outrun whatever was in the shadows, he just needed to outrun the other people in his group.

c. outside
Max had made it out in one piece, or at least made it out into some new kind of hell. The world he stumbled out of the colosseum into was completely alien, not to mention they were still inside. Inside what, he had no idea. It didn't exactly look welcoming either. Not that the Wasteland was all that welcoming, but at least there he knew what to expect and how to survive.

Unable, or just unready, to tackle the enormous task of processing what had just happened, what was still happening, Max instead focuses on something he can control - supplies. Water, shelter, food. There are things that look vaguely like buildings, the shops, so that's the direction he's planning on starting to wander in.

Did everyone else make it out alright? Is that really his problem?

a!!

[bekommen]

Nick startles awake at the sound of something crashing down near her head; she bolts upright and pushes herself back, away from the noise, the - something, whatever it is - with an angry shout.

"Man, what the fuck!" is what comes reflexively out of her halfway-conscious mouth, followed by an even louder, angrier pair of questions: "Who's there? What the fuck's going on?"

If this is another one of Graham's bullshit training things, she thinks, I'm gonna find a way to murder him.

[dangerous_dog]

In the hallway just outside of the main arena, there's a small pool of light cast by one of the terrible sculptures. From that pool, there's the sound of a puppy, barking viciously, and the shape of man crouched over the dog, one hand grabbing tight onto his collar gun drawn and pointed at a one of the angrier shadows.

Bob flinches at points his weapon at Max when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. The first thing that he realizes is that the man is human, which means he points the gun at the floor, right away.

Then, and only then, he sees the face.

C

[onlytheremains]

He's picking his way through the city when he spies him. It's another person, seemingly to be doing a similar thing to him.

Curious.

He doesn't approach, not yet, but he keeps his eyes on him, unsure of whether he's an enemy or a neutrality. He could be quick to make a judgement but he's trying to think before he reacts.

Of course he's not stupid, the knife he has is in close reach and there's a metal bar he's collected that he has in one hand just in case. He'll not let himself be taken by surprise, not if he can help it.

c

[mintly]

[there's a commotion coming from the coliseum, which either means that they're about to be royally screwed or that new people have arrived or, of course, both. either way, gansey is approaching warily when he sees a face that's so familiar his heart skips a beat.]

Ramsey?

[ooc: gansey knew a max before, but no worries, once he realizes this max doesn't know him he'll be treating him like a stranger!]

legolas, ota

[orcsurfing]

waking up.
It wasn't exactly new, though perhaps the way of it was. Before, when he had entered Drabwurld, he was fully aware and conscious of it. This, this waking up in an unknown place, surrounded by unknown people when just moments ago he had been training troops for the upcoming battle, was strange. Yet not as strange as it could have been. He looked around, trying to spot familiar faces, but found none, at least in the people directly surrounding him. All of them in the same state of confusion as himself, it seemed.

He had all his weapons on him still, exactly as he had been at the moment he last recalled, and at his side he could feel soon the ever familiar by now sensation of the Ceffyl Dŵr, still in the intangible form, leaving a thin layer of dampness across his skin, clothing and armour as it passed through him.

A long braid swung behind him, the sword at his side clanking on a greave as he stood. He wasn't hurt, or at least he didn't feel it. And though Legolas hardly trusted any of the others, he would benefit better from trying to make allies, rather than enemies. He approached the person nearest him, offering a hand, "Here, allow me to help you."

killing a hunter.
In the darkest corners he could hear something skittering around, his eyes picked up but flurry of movement now and again, but nothing distinct. Yet should a creature step out into the light to attack, should it make a noise clearer, he was ready, hand on the metal hilt of the sword.

And it did see a use, this blade of his. Not of Arda's make, but of Drabwurld's, the steel sharp and hardened. "Behind you!" Legolas swung it with one hand, the other grabbing a stranger and pushing them out of the way, behind himself so it was him between the attacking creature and its prey. Swift and elegant, like a snake striking at a victim. The silver blade cut through the gelatinous like flesh from what looked like a shoulder, to a waist, slashing the creature in two.

Another might have fallen in self defence, an elf turning a far too tricky one to sneak upon, no matter how see through the opponent

( ooc: feel free to be the rescued party, ooorrrrr just witness him, or actually help him out from yet another one he didn't notice in the hubbub? C: )

exploring the city.
Once out of the coliseum, splattered here and there with the odd blood of the creatures he had faced inside and in the halls leading out, Legolas took in the strange architecture of the city, wandering - although carefully - the streets. Strange and far too foreign, unlike anything he had seen on Arda or Drabwurld both.

( ooc: the wildcard option! w/e, anything goes )

waking up

[isacrowd]

When was the last time Z had slept on the floor? Less than a year ago, and yet she'd already gotten so soft that her whole body hurt from, what, one night without a mattress?

How'd she even get here, though? And where is here? After fighting Icthior, she and the others had been given a few days off to recover, physically and emotionally, from their most difficult battle to date. The last thing she remembered was telling Syd good night and settling into bed, not... running around in the depths of Newtech City's literal underground, which was the only place she could think she was.

It wasn't just her, though. There was someone nearby, holding a hand out to her as she sat up and took in the sight of-- gross, was that a human with a lightbulb for a head just in front of her?

Horror more than fear of harm got her to hef feet quick, her hand closing around the stranger's as she did so. "Thanks." Her gaze remained on the immobile, human-shaped light source, half convinced it was some sort of prolonged, detailed hallucination. Or a dream. That would male the most sense. This was just some very vivid dream...?

"Do you see that too?" Her voice is a bit rough from disuse, but otherwise steady as her heartbeat starts to slow back to normal after her first encounter with the sight.

Bucky Barnes | Marvel Cinematic Universe

[onlytheremains]

1. waking up
He wakes slowly, his body becoming aware of itself at a crawling pace. Everything feels heavy and when he feels almost groggy.

It doesn't last long though, the realization that he is not where he should be kick-starting everything into motion. He's up on his feet and looking at his surrounding, wondering what the fuck is going on.

Noting the other people around him, he makes no effort to try and rouse them, instead picking his way around the bodies and noting the lamps as he passes them.

He has no idea what to make of any of this but he's going to have to figure out something soon enough.


2. halls and hunters
He should have possibly stayed in the arena but there was nothing keeping him there, no answers to be found among the bodies and light. So, he does what he thinks is best and dives head first into the halls.

This may have been a mistake.

Something is pinging him in the back of his mind, an uneasy feeling that isn't just because his situation at large. Moving one hand to his side, his fingers wrap around a knife, ready for whatever might come his way.


3. out and about
He makes it out, bloodstained and a little bruised but not the worst he's been. It's unclear what his plans are in the long term but in the moment, he knows he needs to tackle getting provisions and shelter.

And weapons. He'd like weapons.

So he's scavenging, picking away at the area looking for anything that might be of use to him.

[zen_en_vert]

By now, it's become obvious that there's something happening at the coliseum. Enough bruised, bloody and disoriented bodies have poured out into the city that Bruce has packed up everything he has in terms of first aid supplies and come to the edge of the space- the odd Hunter tears out after one of the newcomers, so he has to be careful, sticking to cover and watching his back, but he has water with him and supplies.

When someone who he thinks he recognizes from footage of the Winter Soldier, aka Bucky Barnes, aka the man he's heard about from Nat (and to some degree, Steve) in turn emerges, he has to take a second to tell if he's hallucinating, and then a second to tell himself that it doesn't matter if he is. Either way, that first and foremost is probably someone who needs his help.

So, he steps out from behind cover, and clears his throat, approaching with a bottle of water carefully in hand.

"Are you hurt?"

Hawkeye Pierce | bring it

[swill]

[1, sir. Nov 10- good morning, darling]
[Okay. Great.

He can feel he’s face down on some hard ground and drowsily, the best Hawkeye can figure is that he rose too swiftly with his chest too puffed out in indignation from where he had been sitting with his legs crossed and somehow his seemingly too-gangly-for-a-post-pubescent-male’s legs hadn’t gotten the message to untangle. Hell of a mistake, huh? And he figured he fell forward in only that great manner that Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce can muster out of an absolute accident. He must have looked like a real dunce, if that’s what had happened. And then he knocked out cold, because otherwise the whole of him wouldn’t feel so sore or so—y’know, out of touch with his head. But the fact that there’s no Chuckles moaning something about grace and lack of has Hawkeye think in the next instant that, no. No, none of that fantasy had actually happened. It makes him moan, and shut his eyes tighter like a schoolboy not wanting to get up for school, and makes him prop himself up on his elbows with this slow, reluctant manner that was very much unschoolboy like, and very much more old fart in a nursing home like. That’s when he noticed that it wasn’t vinyl tile beneath him, or hardwood, but the hard-something is still very much something he knows and despises and this whole not-being-in-the-know thing is great, really. Truly. Any other day he’d think he’d gotten bombed and simply thought that the floor of Rosy’s was as cozy if not more so than the Swamp’s cots to sleep in but. You know, he really should just open his eyes now. But gee, ma, he doesn’t want to. But he does, with a grimace.

Staring back at him in a light bulb. It’s fixed to an infant’s head.

Oh, the wonder of sobriety.

Has he mentioned yet that this whole thing is great? Because it really isn’t that. One blink later and the infant is lucky enough to made out of plastic, and Hawkeye’s fortunate enough to ignore that one shadow scampering away out of the corner of his eyes in favor of taking in his surroundings. Now, see, bodies barely shifting and coming to and the people in them looking all confused-- that's normal. What wasn't, was that there was a shocking lack of reddish-brown or brownish-black. And green. And that. That was the jarring part. Stupidly, Hawkeye looks down at himself as he shuffles to his feet to make sure the whole of him had followed him here and, yes, he's still in the A-Class army attire, brass buckles and buttons and bars and all. And around him and them are more light bulbs attached to plastic people or glass people or metal people. Around all that...

is an arena. Uh-huh.

So naturally, this must all be a very strange dream.

He manages to get himself to walk from one lamp to the next. He nudges one of them with his shoe. It falls over. He walks to the next, and decides not to mess with it because its body is painted like a circus clown's and if it shattered on his account, Hawkeye would actually get the creeps.

Strangely, he doesn't bother to make chit-chat with anyone just yet, unless it's the lamps he's talking to mumbling things like "come here often?" and "in your ear" and "that's not what you told me last night" in a conversation only he understood. It's when he almost-sees the shadow scurrying past his 4 o'clock again that Hawkeye stills and decides to uh. Ask for directions? Howdy, stranger- hope you don't mind a hand on your shoulder.]

Excuse me, pardon me- you wouldn't happen to know what the hell is going on here, would ya? [And because he's not an idiot-] I mean, you could be a very good actor for all I know.

[2, sir. or- are you all right or all that's left?]
[Right-o. Not a dream. If you hear something thump-thump-thumping your way it might just be Hawkeye, since his heart's gungho on jackhammering out of his chest. Oh, and his footsteps aren't all that light and they give off this kind of echo in the hallways- and he'll blame the damn dress shoes for that because they haven't been broken in the way his trusty mud-crusted boots are, y'know. One hand's perpetually held against a wall, or a column, and he's not exactly sneaking (he knows how to be quiet) but the man's still slouching and shuffling forward the way someone does when they know there's a danger. In this case, it's very much like shuffling forward when there's a sniper on your tail- the bastard already knows you're there, so you can't hide but you don't exactly want to be obvious, either. This particular brand of sniper was something out of the worst fever dreamt stupor Hawkeye could recall. And he'd already sprint the hell away from the sight of the translucent belly of one- so he's a tiny bit flushed already. This was fun. Watching the way he breathed in and out and being hypersensitive to anything echoing in the damn winding halls was fun.

Not enough fun to make him forget his business, though. God forbid.

He's moving towards the source of those echos more often than not, and some times he's even silent about it. You only wish he wouldn't run into a Jellyman, because the surgeon's a hell of a screamer. But if it's a human-person he catches sight or wind of, his shoulders kind of square and his brows kind of furrow and he'll gesture a touch frantically to them-] Hey. Pss- hey, this way. You want to get out of here, don't you?

[It's almost like the guy has been doing this dance for a while now- he sure seems confident he knows the small labyrinth well enough.] You're not hurt, are y-- oh, come on. These things haven't made their way outside.

[closed to Wanda]
[It's after one of those trips that Hawkeye thinks- that's it. He's done. Screw moving another inch, he's too out of shape to stay a contender during this game of tag. The good news was that the noise had died down. Hawkeye was lingering hesitantly by an entrance-slash-exit to the building when he noted that. There weren't footfalls sounding off- the ones that were audible had a source nearby that he could identify with a peek round this corner or that. His face felt a little red and he felt a little hot and his lungs felt a little abused, and for a moment he'd later try to forget, Hawkeye figures all work's done. People were safe from the- things.

But it was a stupid assumption to make and now a second after thinking it, he's kicking himself. Figuratively and literally and his heart made a little flip of protest and kind of threatened to go on strike. Gods knows Hawkeye didn't want to sprint back into the winding and narrow halls of the colosseum, but since when did God ever care about what he wanted? The guy's moving in- eyes keen to the shadows and rare reflections of light filtering around him. He doesn't have a path forged for him right now- his plan's not as linear as it had been. He holds his breath more than once turning a corner and is often pleasantly disappointed he doesn't find what he expects. But like hell he'll relax. He combs through the hidden little rooms, or turns, or nooks, and it's not until he pokes his head back into the openness of the arena that he hears something kind of--

and he sees that swollen, bluish belly first. It's right in front of him, and the the transparent skin is glistening and uh. Moving. Forward. For him. Fast. And of course the head and the teeth are ahead of the belly and Hawkeye's stumbling back with a shout and a] No-no-no-no-nuh-n-

[That was when his back hit a wall and oh Christ there's somebody approaching and-] Out, out, get out!

[3, sir. Nov 11-17- let's sacrifice a virgin]
a [The first order of business was to hound everyone he could run into- literally run into, or just anybody he happened by that was a newer-than-new face. Sometimes he wouldn't say a damn thing, just look them over, and if he spotted somebody particularly banged-up he'd stop to ask them a pretty quick question-] Are you okay? [It shouldn't take up much of your time.]

b [Second order was much like the first. It's a little nosier, or at least it is if it happens to be your little humble abode that Hawkeye rattles the doorknob of and slash or peers in through the window of. Don't take it personally- he's taking it upon himself to do this small inspection of every building he finds, whether it's clearly ruins or not. And every day that passes of him hopping from one room and one shop to the next, is every day he grows a little more frustrated. He's not making a sport of looting, though. One day he'll run his fingers through his hair to further dishevel it and he'll puff out his cheeks like a pufferfish- and it can be in the middle of a road, in front of a shop, inside a would-be-restaurant, wherever- and when he slowly lets that air out he'll muse to himself-] No wonder these people went extinct. Nobody ever thought to build a damn hospital. Hospital, hospital- there's no hospital in this city. [Whoever happens by will get a half-hearted accusing finger pointed at them-] Why isn't there a hospital in this city? [And chances are, if you answer that, he will take up much of your time.]

c [It doesn't seem like he cared to comb his hair after having messed it up that one time. It almost doesn't seem like he's stopped moving, either. Exploring wasn't all that great. There wasn't all that much to explore, and what 'much' there was didn't make a lick of sense. There's was definitely more to find, but Hawkeye was done caring to find it. There was something that made breathing a little harder than it should be, recently. He's calmed down, sure. Calm as he'll ever be, honestly. Still, his gaze turns upwards at random times and afterwards Hawkeye stumbles for a step or two before regaining his brand of composure. He figures he should be... taking things, now. A change of clothes would do. He moves to unbutton the top of his once-pristine brown jacket. And then he moves to unpin the captain's bars. And he lets them drop on the ground. And he unpins the caduceus-es? -i? and lets those drop. And he stops there, don't worry. So now the ground has this very nice decoration where he was, but that's not what's bothering Hawkeye. He glances up again at the stony nothing and rolls his eyes oh-so-dramatically after that. To the shops! He trudges on, babbling. The thing about Hawkeye is, he'll babble whether there's someone to listen to him babble or not.] What's a fella gotta do to get out of here, anyway? I don't see a volcano- are we supposed to throw somebody into a volcano? Because I volunteer. To throw somebody in, not to be thrown in.

[ooc: holy rambling, batman. give me prose or brackets, long or short, anything at all and I'll match you!]

let's do this!! >U

[divulsion]

[Wanda hadn't waited more than a few moments before getting to her feet to explore the colosseum. Explore. Escape. Find out what in the hell kind of place she'd found herself in, all while wondering if this was a test or an attack of some sort. It felt broken down enough to almost remind her of Sokovia, if it weren't for the seriously creepy lamps that felt entirely out of place. Disturbing and unsettling in the same what that Ultron and his army had been, humanoid in shape and yet anything but.

Going off on her own probably wasn't the smartest choice she could have made, but she and Pietro had been on their own for so long it had felt like sticking to a default course to do so. Only this time Pietro wasn't with her--would never be with her again. Wanda pushed away that thought before she could linger on it. Her grief was still too fresh, often making her weak and breaking down what guards she held tightly around herself. And when her walls were down, the tears came, hot and spilling down her cheeks until she had none left to shed. No, she couldn't think about him now, not when something was seriously wrong. Only moments ago she'd been at the Avenger's new headquarters, meeting for the first time as a new team, and then she'd woken up here, still in her new uniform and near no one who looked familiar.

Not the man she's come across now, and certainly not the creature that's coming after him. Her stomach flips at the sight of it, transparent and alien, with claws and teeth enough to make her react like she might have when just human, with fear and panic. But it hasn't been that long since the Battle of Sokovia, it only takes a few awkward starts to launch her back into the mindset she'd been in that day, attacking robots and protecting her people. She rushes forward, using her powers to propel her faster than she ever could have run. Hands glowing as she rushes forward, Wanda shouts out:]

Move!

[She slips between the uniformed man and the creature, knocks the man out of the way before it can make contact--then feels its claws dig into her leg. Letting out a cry of pain, she twists in the air, distracted and panicked once more that it's gotten hold of her. As she falls back against the wall she kicks at it, kicks both legs despite how it only allows it's claws to slice over her skin all the more. It's monstrous and terrifying and she can feel its hunger despite every part of her that would rather not know anything quite so intimate about it. Breathless, she gathers her power once more to her hands and shoots a red bolt of energy right into its opening jaws. Jerking her hands apart, she uses her power to tear those flaps into pieces, spilling it's transparent bodily fluids around them.]

Chris | Until Dawn | OTA!

[thechoiceisyours]

[Arena]
Great. Right out of one nightmare and into another.

He'd only closed his eyes for a brief rest before he would be heading to the hospital, too wired to sleep but still exhausted after everything that happened, and then he'd found himself waking up on the ground in what looked like a coliseum. For a moment he thought he had just fallen asleep and was dreaming, except that dreaming would've been more real; not like this same surreal daze that had settled over everything a few hours into the night and has only grown worse as the time has gone by.

Also what is with the creepy lamps, seriously.

Then he sees something move, and not in an entirely unfamiliar way. Chris is on his feet in a moment, exhausted muscles and injured leg protesting the movement, but he's somehow not run out of reserves of adrenaline just yet. For the first time he registers there are other people around as well, none of which he immediately recognizes--though he only spares a brief glance, his gaze mostly focused on a patch of shadows the monster had disappeared into--many of whom look to be in varying states of surprise; hopefully at least one of them has a weapon, because Chris has nothing useful on him and he's not sure running is going to be an option.

He hobbles back a step or two, to put more distance between himself and the direction whatever it was had moved as well as to test his leg; he doesn't fall down, so there's that at least, even if the pain is warning him he's taking a serious gamble every time he puts any weight on it. But maybe he can still run after all, because really, what is his other option? Hope he's lucky--and that's using the word 'lucky' very loosely--enough to be facing another monster with movement-based vision and therefore be able to get away with just holding still? Not likely, and even if it that were the case he wouldn't be able to just stand by while the other people here were in danger.

Think, Chris. What the hell is he going to do?

[dangerous_dog]

"Hey," says Bob, "hey."

He's a few dozen paces behind him, in one of the small pools of light, crouched near the lamp on the floor.

"Hey, man, they live in the dark." And extending a hand to him in an easy beckon. "You gotta move."

Fast, and hopefully without stopping to think too long about it. He projects as much reassurance as he possibly can, but can't quite disguise the worry.

cullen rutherford » open

[smited]

COLOSSEUM »

[ there's a number of things that are worrying about waking up in the colosseum with a very worried, whining dog licking his face. the first is that cullen has no idea how he got where he is. the second is that those lamps are really fucking creepy. the fact that there's other people who are waking up in a similar state is somewhere up there on the list as well.

he pushes himself up off the ground, gently nudging the dog away as he goes. right. taking stock of the situation is step one. cullen--could be in worse condition. his bones ache, but that's not really anything new. neither is the throbbing behind his eyes that means he's going to be very grumpy later if he can't find his way to somewhere dark and quiet relatively soon. he's still got his knives on him which, considering he's somewhere unfamiliar, seems like a minor miracle. it would be better if he'd been armored up and had his sword before he ended up... wherever this is. but beggars can't be choosers.

what's more worrying to him than his own plight is that of the other people waking around him. the skittering already has him wary, but the unarmed and groggy people just put his protector's instincts into overdrive. ] Come on, pup. [ cullen strides over to the closest person who has yet to stand, his loyal hound at his heel. ]

Are you alright? [ --wait. stupid question. ] Uninjured?

OUT AND ABOUT »

[ there's a number of places cullen can be found over the next week as he explores. but two of the best places to find him are the stores and the library.

he'e very clearly in search of something or somethings specific when he moves through the stores. though it's also pretty clear if you watch him browse that he's not going to turn his nose up if he finds something interesting or something that reminds him of home. the library is a bit more frustrating as most of the books are completely unreadable. who keeps a library with books no one can read? and the charred remains of books get thoughtful frowns out of him as he carefully looks at them and tries to see if any of those were once written in a language he can understand. ]

HOUSING »

[ on a nice afternoon outside chez thedas house number 1502 attempting to train his dog. this results in a lot of happy barking, getting tackled and slobbered all over, games of fetch that weren't actually meant to be games of fetch, and an increasingly frustrated cullen.

he rolls up his sleeves and plants his hands on his hips, glaring down at the pup who just wags his tail. ]

How is it that you can handle yourself in battle but when it comes to making sure things stay that way, you don't listen to a word I say? [ the mabari just cocks its head to the side all curious-like. because it's a dog. a very intelligent, magically bred dog, but still. dog.

cullen sighs. ]

WILDCARD »

[ got another idea? hit me with it!! ]

Colosseum

[solivagant]

[Dressed as the young noblewoman she is and clutching a purse, Seles couldn't look much more out of place than if she tried. Where is she...? The packed dirt beneath and the seats of stone sitting behind a wall are familiar. But this isn't the colosseum she knows. It's far too dilapidated and the decorations, what remain of them, are foreign to her.

It doesn't occur to her to get up at all really. She hasn't had much experience with this sort of thing. Or. Anything really.

At the sound of a voice though she does struggle to sit up.p and look at...uhm...]

D-don't... [Ahem] Don't think you'll get away with this!

[The purse comes up like a weapon betweem her and Cullen. Stay back, sir! Except for the little quiver in her arm, ignore that.]

Kidnapping a Wilder is a treasonous offense!

wanda maximoff ♦ mcu ♦ open

[divulsion]

→ the 10th: colosseum

[By the time Wanda finds herself around people again, she's not in the greatest of shape. Her new uniform is splashed with the bodily fluids of a Hunter she tore apart with her powers, and the pants are torn from when it first grabbed her leg. Blood is already drying on the pants leg, and soaking into the men's shirt that's tied just below the middle of her right thigh. Limping very slightly, she heads through the colosseum with a pained but determined look on her face. She still doesn't have answers, doesn't know where she is, why she was brought there or what the creatures are that she's been fighting, but it's clear that her first intentions of getting the hell out of there have to be delayed. They're not her people but they're still people and as an Avenger now, well, this is what she does, isn't it? Protect the people of the world, not just the people of Sokovia.

Turning the corner down one of the hallways, she keeps an ear out for any noise around her, any one of those creatures that might find its way in her vicinity once more, but she can't seem to pin them down. They're more animal than human in nature, making it harder for her to sense them and at times difficult to distinguish among the humans she can sense. Hissing under her breath, she takes the opportunity to check the makeshift bandage around her leg. It doesn't hurt much yet, but if it's anything like the head injury she got in Sokovia, she knows it's only a matter of hours or more before her adrenaline wears off and it starts hurting in earnest. If she can just keep going until then, maybe she can help to get more people out of this place before she can't bull her way through the pain.

Wanda straightens at the sound of scuffling noises in the hallway. Calling her power to her hands once more, illuminating the dark passageways, she stands where the hallway bends, watching in both directions to see who or what would make an appearance next.]

→ the 11th-13th: supply runs

[The following week is considerably quieter than the first day of her arrival. Wanda stays close to the neighborhoods the second day, getting a feel for the immediate area while simultaneously trying to figure out the extent of her mobility with the new injury. In the colosseum she'd managed to get by with a make-shift bandage and fight until she could get out of there, have it it tended to. As expected, it hurt a hell of a lot more this second day and what exploring she did was spent limping the entire way.

It's the days after that when she begins venturing out further and further, beyond the neighborhood and to the shops nearby. She can't spend forever in her uniform, especially when it could use a good washing. A couple changes of clothing ought to do, and if she can, Wanda is going to try and stock up on some spare medical supplies as well. Not that there's really much around this place, from what she can see, but she's not unused to scavenging and surely somewhere in the abandoned city there's bound to be something that will work for bandages and dressings. Still in her uniform, though somewhat worse for wear, she can be found often enough on her own, peering in windows and walking the aisles of shops, looking for anything that seems like it might be useful in the days or weeks ahead.]

→ the 14th-17th: city exploration

[When not perusing through the shops, Wanda can be found making her way through the city, trying to get a feel for the layout, the established paths, all while keeping a watchful eye around her and, well, on the ceiling. The way the days and evenings occur in this strange place doesn't make sense to her. There's no apparent source of light and yet they have extremely long days that are already difficult to get used to. Pausing somewhere near the spires, not far from the Temple of Hope, she pauses to look up at the sky once more. Or at least, where there ought to be a sky.

It takes her time to realize why she's so disturbed by it. It's not out of any sense of claustrophobia. There's more than enough room to give her the illusion of freedom, even if there's no escape from this place. It's the fact that even when she and Pietro had nothing, even when they were scraping together for food for the day, or running for their lives as the fighting spilled out onto the streets once more, they always had the sky. Beautiful blue skies during the day, and deep navy, star-studded skies at night. Nature's best always on display for them, something encompassing and wonderful.

And here it's nothing. Rock, more rock, the threat of monsters in caves that she's not well enough to go after yet. And there in the middle of the city sits a temple to Hope itself. Himself. Staring at it, she finds it hard to decide which is more terrifying, Fear that she knows, is so well acquainted with, or Hope which all too often has let her down hard.

Thoughts like these are probably why she shouldn't keep to herself so much, and perhaps that's why she turns away from the temple and back toward the spire, considering exploring it as well, seeing if she might run into someone there.]

→ the 10th

[vdova]

[ The scuffling has a distinct source: Natasha's engaged in battle with one of the things that attacked and wounded Wanda earlier. She's not precisely losing, but she isn't winning, either; she's got her electric staves out, and she's hitting it with everything she has but it just. won't. die. The walls are too close to risk trying to shoot it with one of the pistols strapped to her thighs, and it's trying to back her into a corner. It's only sheer determination that's kept her going this long.

She sees the flare of red out of the corner of her eye, but doesn't dare take her eyes off her target. The last time she had it'd nearly pierced her from behind. She won't make that mistake again. She manages to land a hard kick in the thing's torso, which causes it to stagger just enough for Natasha to spin around and kick it again, this time into the far wall. She uses the spin to look for the source of the red light, and her relief at who it is is nearly palpable. She takes a step back while the thing recuperates, taking a few harried breaths of her own. ] Hit it with everything you've got!

[ She yells it over her shoulder without looking at Wanda, expecting the other woman to listen to her without question. She doesn't have time to make sure Wanda understands what it is she wants because the creature is lunging for her again. ]

Sarah Kerrigan | Open

[swarm_embrace]

Waking Up

True unconsciousness was something Kerrigan hadn't experienced much in the past couple months. She woke up with her face against a floor that definitely wasn't creep, and only a single faint hum or another mind where the massive swarm had been. The zergling was beside her, attention on her. She lifted her head to look around and ordered the zergling to do the same.

People. Humans, as far as she could tell, some of them had animals with them. And a disturbing collection of human-shaped lamps. Kerrigan stood up and stretched the limbs on her back. Nothing hurt, everything was in working order. She reached out with her mind, only to become aware of something blocking her. Distance wasn't exactly easy to gauge without anything for reference, but it felt close. 'On the same battlefield' close rather than 'in the same solar system' levels of close.

She caught movement in the corner of her eye, off near the shadows, but couldn't identify what it was before it was gone. Enough people were beginning to wake up and stand up, and Kerrigan didn't want to wait around to be attacked by whatever brought them here, or the people waking up. With the Zergling hopping along at her side, she began to make her way out.

Exploring

Kerrigan dutifully scouted the area around, forming a map of it in her mind. She left the caves alone for now; the barrier blocking her psionic senses lay somewhere in there. Something awful had happened, judging by the state of some of the buildings. The library had briefly given her hope of finding out what, exactly, until she discovered that the majority of the books were in languages she couldn't even begin to recognize.

The Zergling was constantly near her, never straying outside her range to retaliate if it came under attack. Judging by the skittering noises most of them frequently heard, there was something out there. Most likely a predator of some kind. The lack of direct confrontation put her on edge, waiting for whatever was behind this to show itself.

Choose your own adventure
[For all your Zerg encounter needs. Got an idea, let's go!]

Exploring

[fuwatokurage]

Clear noticed the increased amount of people. A lot of them looked disoriented, on edge, beat up, tired, or a combination of all of those. He could actually empathize this time. He had felt the same way after the bear encounter.

His curiosity was getting the better of him and he was observing all of the newcomers as they explored around. He knew that everyone was from some sort of different world, but everyone he had met had been human. He was the only non-human that he knew of so far.

It was when he saw the strange creature that he became seriously intrigued. It was a little unsettling, but he wanted to see it more up close.

He walked behind the woman and the giant bug-like thing and reeeached out to touch just the barest edge of the creature.

Z Delgado | all are wide open

[isacrowd]

escaping

Z is over the initial shock of not knowing where she is, because more important than that is getting out here before whatever is scuttling around in the dark gets the chance to attack. These things aren't like what she's used to. They're hard to spot, for one (you get spoiled when you fight colorful footsoldiers and big, loud monsters, apparently), and for another, they sound nothing short of sinister.

At least she's not alone, though without knowing whether or not any of these people can fight, she's bound by her moral code to help them. And even though she is a tiny army unto herself, she's not sure she should fight these things. The hair on the back of her neck stands, and beneath her uniform, she feels goosebumps on her arms and legs. Everything about this place screams danger beyond measure.

But she won't leave without at least trying to save someone.

Z walks to the person nearest her, listening for, gosh, anything that will give her some sort of clue as to what's in here with her and all these people.

"We've got to get out of here." It's stating the obvious, and she knows that. Rangers tend to do that.



(or, if you prefer--)

ranger problems hallway adventures

The only reason Z isn't actively seeking to fight these monsters is that there isn't enough room in these hallways to fight them properly. And sure, she's run headlong into the fray in her time, both before and after joining SPD, but this-- this seems different. And not just because she's in something of a party. That's different, too, because they're strangers that she has to trust to survive. They're not her teammates, her family.

She'll find her way home. She and those with her just have to find their way out of this place first.

She falls back on old habits, sending a replica ahead of her group to peer at what's ahead, because at least a replica is expendable. This is almost like the games she used to play to escape the cops when she was younger. Except for, well, pretty much everything.

Right about now, Bridge might start on a ramble. The thought brings a smile to her face, and a pang of nostalgia to her heart. Not the best time--much like Bridge's rambling could be. She bites her lips and tries to stifle a laugh, ending up giving a quiet snort instead. Sorry, teammates of the moment. Hope none of you overheard that. She's actually a very serious fighter when the time comes, honest!



(OR)

finally outside

She's tired, she's hungry, and she's a little bruised, but Z is finally outside.

Well, outside of the colosseum. There's no sky that she can see. She's not home, that much is obvious at this point. Being somewhere more normal would be a relief. This is better than being chased by who even knows what (hey, they didn't follow her outside, nice!), but it's not what she was expecting. That's her fault, she guesses.

Still, she's not going to lose hope. She's got her morpher, which means she can get in touch with her friends. Walking further away from the creepy building with the gross monsters and weird human-shaped lamps (she shudders at the memory), Z tries her morpher/communicator. And tries again. And again.

When it doesn't work after maybe her tenth try, she clips it back onto her belt and groans. "Great. Now what. Poisoned water? Rotten food?" At least there's shelter, provided the other buildings are monster- and weird-lamp-free.

No sense not trying, anyway. And there's light here, though she's not sure from where. "Here goes," she says to herself, and heads for the nearest building.



(OR...write your own starter~ :D)

escaping

[dangerous_dog]

"We do," Bob agrees, lifting the lamp- the fucking monstrously creepy body-shaped lamp, at that- a little bit higher, trying to cast a wider pool of light, to drive back the skittering shapes. A step or two brings him closer to her, but it also tugs the cord tight, where it's plugged in. His jacket bulges at the front a little, and the passenger tucked inside it squirms, but is, for the moment, good and quiet.

"I can't find an exit. Everything is just more hall, is just more black."

The Warden | open

[unabatedly]

day 1: arrival

[ Awakening to unfamiliar surroundings isn't entirely uncommon for her, sadly. But she refuses to sit idly in the colosseum and wait for anyone to explain why they're there, who they are, and whether they can even be trusted. The terrible human-shaped lamps nearby do nothing to still her nerves and Neria keeps her hand enclosed around the pommel of her blade, wary, ready. The dog at her side, massive in size, seems to be as on edge as she is, sniffing along the corners of the colosseum's enclosure, as if testing the few archways they can use for an exit.

After some pacing, she eventually turns back to one of the few people still there, seated or standing, and holds out a hand. ]

Are you injured? Do you need help?

[ Once a healer, always a healer. She tries to smile, the expression never quite reaching her eyes. ]

I can heal you, if you'd like. It won't hurt, I promise. [ Ah, but they might not trust a mage. ] If you've an injury, I can make a poultice.

day 1, cont.: fighting

[ Leave the colosseum, they said. It's for the best, they said.

And certainly, they can't stay there, trapped like rats. But the outside is no better, not when their exit is dogged by those strange monsters. The first attempt at leaving ended miserably, with Neria stepping back into the lit enclosure of their starting point. Shortly thereafter, she steps back through the archways with her dog and proceeds to light the creatures up with vicious arcs of electricity, sending them crackling to the ground.

Anyone who's hoping to make a getaway can do so now...at least, for the moment. ]

Move it, before more come looking! Now's our chance!

day 2-7: exploration/scavenging

[ Neria doesn't have a map. In fact, she doesn't have much of anything. But that doesn't mean she isn't going to make a suitable effort to discover the layout of what's around their sanctuaries and what can be stolen from the shops and buildings there. Hunting isn't entirely out of the question, she presumes, but she'd rather compile whatever resources they can uncover amongst the abandoned and empty buildings.

The dog is the best scout she has, leading her into empty houses that have very little to offer but minor supplies - paper, writing utensils, silverware, some dishes, sheets - marginally untouched by the horrors that seem to lurk in every dark corner.

Whether you've gone scouting with her or if you've run into her, Neria won't say no to company. The dog especially won't, running around the legs of new people and trying to sniff them for food or treats. ]

I hope you've run into better luck than I have. [ Bent over a drawer and trying to stuff a handful of odds and ends into her bag, Neria looks up. ] I haven't found anything beyond stationary and small trinkets to help us. At this rate--

[ No, they'll find something. It's simply difficult to really go exploring when they're being followed and attacked by monsters wherever they go. ]

day 2-7: wildcard!

[ Find Neria in other parts of the city, near some housing, wherever. This is for any prompt you just make up and want to toss at me! ]

[ ooc: brackets or prose, I'm game for either! ]

day 3

[whichend]

[ The dog is ultimately what catches Arya's eye. She hasn't seen a proper dog in years. She'd traveled with the Hound, sure, but he was no man's best friend. Dogs are closely related to wolves, and Arya Stark misses wolves so, so much.

She isn't supposed to, of course. She isn't Arya Stark anymore, but she can't help but smile at the sight of the dog. Old habits die hard.

She kneels down and extends a hand for the dog to sniff. ]

Hello, Ser Dog.

Helena | Orphan Black | OPEN

[twistedsestra]

WAKING
[She woke groggily, eyes opening as she peered around, face pressed to the ground, grit rubbing against her cheek. She pushed up, seeing herself in an unfamiliar area with unfamiliar... things around her. Lamps, strange ones that looked like something she might have made herself, if she'd been so inclined. Lamps and other people and something else. Her senses picked up the sounds of things skittering in the dark.

She sat up slowly, doing a quick survey of herself. No wounds. No weapons, either. That was okay. There were those funny lamps, after all. Moving over to one, she kicked at it, then bent and pulled one of the metal arms off with an ear-twitching screech of bent metal. Good. Now she had a weapon. She also pulled off the cord, wrapping it around her left hand as a sort of guard as well as reinforcement for a hit, the cord winding over her knuckles. As set as she could be, she looked for one of paths to lead out of here, though she was also curious about the other people also waking up around her. What to do first...?

She might be approachable, as long as no weapons were raised her way.]

EXPLORING
[It hadn't taken her long to see how others were dealing with the things they found that crept out at them, the jelly-like nightmares that wrapped around faces. She'd scavenged aerosol cans and a handful of lighters, one of each always in hand as she poked around the city. Because of the other humans she knew were around as well, she wasn't so much of the 'hear something and fry it first' nature that she would otherwise be. She'd been watching. They'd been brought in here as well, just like her. So far, they were not her enemy, but... that could change.

She'd just come out of one of the buildings, a pack she'd also scavenged on her back and filled with whatever bits of food she could find. Hearing the scuff of something on the ground -- she lifted the canister and flicked the lighter on.]

Come out, little jelly monster. Come let me send you back to the nightmare land...

exploring

[whichend]

[ There's a decent amount of supplies to be found here if you know where to look, and if you can fit into places most people can't. Arya's got both of these covered. She's on a supply run now, filling a sheet with food and weapons and things that she doesn't even know what they are. Steve and Cash might, though, and sometimes those things wind up being useful, so she takes it anyway.

She pulls herself out of the cellar she's been scavenging, and faces the odd, curly-haired woman in front of her. Arya's never seen anything like her before. ]

I'm not a jelly monster, and this isn't a nightmare. You are not dreaming.

[ She says, indignantly. ]

Mike Munroe | All prompts open

[fierycharm]

Halls of the Coliseum
He'd closed his eyes on instinct and in less than one second, everything had changed. Except the pain, of course that part had to stick around. Where before he'd been in a dusty log cabin filled to the brim with gas, now he was in something he'd only seen in textbooks and National Geographic specials with something dark overhead and too solid to be the night sky. Too slowly, he pushed himself to his arms and got his feet back under him. His neck and back screamed at him but the adrenaline still pumping through his veins helped to get him upright. His lighter vanished back into his pocket as he looked around only a second to determine yes, as a matter of fact, he had no fucking clue what was going on. What he did know was that something was skittering around and it made him want to bolt.

There were other people around, but a cursory glance said he didn't know them and that made them not his problem for the time being; until he knew what was going on, his priority was going to be not dying again. Did he die? God he wasn't even sure and that was another messed up thing to add to the pile. He'd think about it later.

He staggered out of the main arena and into the halls, determined to find the door out of this place. The gun he'd been using against the wendigos was clenched tight in his left hand (the right hurt too much whenever he tried to use it, another thing to think about later) but he only had three rounds left. His mind froze as a sound from up ahead took his attention. Mike pressed himself to one of the pillars in the hall and waited, listening. As soon as the thing was close enough, he turned to face it, gun up and finger on the trigger.

In the city
Free of the winding confines of the coliseum's halls, Mike stepped out into the expanse of the cave. He'd hoped to see blue skies, but his luck was running out. At least there still seemed to be a sliver: this wasn't the mines on Mount Washington. He'd traded one mystery for another. "And here all I wanted was a fun weekend."

He walked a ways deeper into the 'city' if it could be called that, eyes trailing from one broken down structure to another. "Jesus, what a shit show. Think I've seen dumps better looking than this."

Lake
Once he wasn't immediately fearing for his life, it didn't take long for the adrenaline to start to fade. In it's place came new waves of pain, each step and turn of his head sent aches and searing flashes down his spine, some of them ending in a pins and needles feeling that didn't fill him with confidence. It wasn't just his back either, his whole body felt like a bruise after the events of the night and his index finger and thumb of his right hand burned painfully with every twitch of muscle.

His wanderings had taken him to the shore of a lake by the time he finally had to call it quits and rest. He sat on the grassy bank, a hiss escaping him as he settled, and slowly submerged his right hand in the shallow water. God knew if this water even had anything living in it, for all Mike knew, he was opening himself up to some gross infection, but the coolness of the water was just the balm his burning hand needed.

He had to guess the burns were from flicking on his lighter to blow up the cabin, but then why was only that part of him burned...he should be dead. But he wasn't so maybe he should stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and focus on whatever fresh hell he'd stumbled into instead.

Lake!

[casperdisaster]

All Noah saw was someone laying on the bank of the lake with their hand in the water. His first thought was: Oh shit, dead body.

He'd already rerouted to jog a bit closer when he noticed the rise and fall of Mike's chest and realized no, he was alive. He considered kind of... veering back on course and leaving Mike in peace, but what if he was hurt? Pausing and shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, Noah decided finally on at least checking in. It wan't like it was weird to ask if a stranger was okay here, and there wasn't someone else around who could ask that he could see.

"Um - hello? Are you okay? Do - do you need me to grab a doctor...?" Noah called from a few feet away.

Rhys | OPEN

[hybridification]

1. Waking up
[If someone had asked Rhys a few months back what his worst fears would be, he'd be able to tell them pretty easily. Being hideously scarred- that was a good one, that could hurt his future chances of success. Biting into an apple and finding half a worm would also be pretty upsetting. Being fired... well, that was probably the list topper, to be honest.

Now, though? Now, if he had to think of what he was afraid of most, the list pretty much consists of dismemberment, with some spoons being shoved in his eyes, and most of all, agonizing, humiliating death. His few-week stay on Pandora had taught him a thing or two, and at the very top of the list of valuable life lessons is this: there's always something bigger and scarier than the last big and scary thing, and it's always right around the corner.

Which is why, standing here in this alien arena with some random strangers, some garbage phone in his pocket, and his trusty screaming robot at his side, Rhys is suddenly reminded to never take anything for granted.]

Okay... okay, yeah, this is alright.

[At least there's no giant skags, no rakk hives, no weird flowery bullshit that explodes into acid, right? He can find his way out of this- whatever it is. And then he can find out what happened to Vaughn, can meet back up with Fiona, and can get out of here. Good plan. Great plan.

Something skitters just out of the corner of his eye.

Rhys screams. And then the tiny flying robot by his side starts screaming in return, and Rhys grabs at the robot, trying to muffle the hideous shrieking sound. Still fine- still fine, just pressing the screaming thing closer to his chest. Probably want to find a hiding spot now. Still okay.

This is going to be just fine.]

2. Somehow not dying

Hey!

[Rhys is a people person. He totally knows how to handle people. And one of the most important things to know about handling people is that making a good first impression is vital. Probably not entirely possible while wearing scuffed up clothes, with mismatching eyes and a bright yellow robotic arm- but hey, let's add in a whirring little trash can of a robot at his side, and the worst fashion sense known to man, and you've got the full package.

Regardless, he's going to move for the first person he sees, waving an arm to try and get their attention.]

Hey, what's your name? I think we should hang out. Safety in numbers and... stuff, right?

[Rhys is also very good at compelling arguments.]

3. no

[That high pitched, girlish scream echoing through the halls? Well, that can only really belong to one guy, and he's running as fast as his two legs will carry him. One of those things is after him- at least, he thinks it is, he lost track- and Rhys only caught sight of it's three-flap jaw before fucking booking it as fast as he can in the other direction.]

Oh my god- help, someone- !

[His bright blue eye flashes, he tries to scan the area in front of him for any heat signatures, but focusing on anything other than getting the hell out of there isn't really going to happen any time soon.

Please save this failboat.]

3

[mintly]

[at first, gansey thinks the scream must belong to an actual girl, but then a full-grown man with...a robot arm? seriously?...comes barreling right into him, very likely landing them both in a heap on the ground.

gansey, at least, is carrying his bag, and amongst the things in that bag is a gun. if only he knew why a guy with a robot arm and a glowing eye and what looks like a keyhole in his temple was running around screaming and knocking him over in the first place, that might be helpful.]

...ow.

Gren, open

[murderpotato]

waking up

[Cold floor, crick in his neck, throbbing headache.]

[Is it Tuesday already?]

[This isn't exactly something that Gren's unfamiliar with, given how many times he drinks his stupid ass into a stupor in any given week, but he does distinctly remember that when he went to bed, he was on a cot in the Trip Trap's back room. Sure, this wouldn't be the first time that he's rolled himself off in the middle of the night, but the floor's all wrong and the sounds are all wrong and it's really just all wrong.]

[He rubs the heel of his hand into his eyes with an annoyed groan, then sits up; his stomach does a weird flop but ultimately settles, which he counts as a win because throwing up on himself is not on his to-do list for today. Gren lowers his hand and looks around at the colosseum and scattered people around him, all probably as lost as he is.]

...I'm not fuckin' drunk enough for this shit.

[YOU JUST WOKE UP.]

hallways and murder jell-o

[Things that Gren does not enjoy:

1. Waking up hungover.

2. Waking up hungover in a weird colosseum with a bunch of lost assholes.

And now he can add to the list,

3. Waking up hungover in a weird colosseum with a bunch of lost assholes and murder jell-o.]

[They're persistent, they're annoying, and they keep trying to eat his face. Gren likes his face, on account of the fact that it's his and he needs it, so he doesn't really take too kindly to weird-mouthed abominations going after it like it's the last bag of chips at a toke party. Luckily, Gren can hear them coming, and even if they're hard to spot, they aren't silent.]

[And then there's this asshole. The one who jumped him and got him to the ground and who's kind of keeping Gren's lone arm busy with holding it back by the throat so that it can't eat his face.]

I am not fuckin' drunk enough for this shit!

murder jell-o afterparty

[It seems like he's gonna be here for a while, whether he likes it or not, so that means that he needs to find someplace to crash. And if he has a choice, he's going to find some place that's got as few people hanging their asses around as possible, so that he maybe doesn't snap at somebody for being loud, shitty neighbors.]

[He hates neighbors. He hates a lot of things, really, about society, but neighbors are pretty close to the top. Maybe a bit below jelly monsters and bureaucrats and those things they stuff into olives. Fuck those things.]

[He misses Holly's pickled eggs.]

[Don't mind this suspicious looking, sleazy motherfucker poking around various properties. Nothing unusual here.]

hallways and murder jell-o

[swarm_embrace]

[Riding in to the rescue isn't something Kerrigan normally makes a habit of. But between the translucent monsters intent on eating people and people, Kerrigan has no trouble picking a side. She leaps in and uses the sharp tips of the wing-like limbs on her back to skewer the thing.

They come in down and at the side, careful to avoid hitting the person trapped beneath it. Her Zergling is prowling nearby, ready in case more decide to arrive.]

Haurchefant | OTA

[illiegetimate]

A) Newly arrived;

[Little did he expect to feel much of anything after what had happened... after that spear of light, the searing pain of his end, and the fleeting feel of his dearest friend's hands holding his own.

He was rather unpleasantly surprised when he felt a full body ache as consciousness returned to him. It took but a moment for him to rise to his feet, in a near-panic as he pressed himself hard to figure out what was going on—hells, how he was even alive! What he found was not answers as he peered about, but more that would raise questions.

His hand first went to his stomach, where there was a sizable hole in his armor from what was obvious—however, there was no wound. A scar in its place, but with the hanging chainmail and fabric obscuring it, it was hard to even tell. After that, the lamps and others around him caught his attention, and idly he wondered if this was some sort of afterlife. If these people too had died and wound up here.

The thought was not at all a comfort.

Deciding to approach the nearest person, and just as he's about to say something, he hears something skitter not too far off. Instantly he arms himself with his sword and, albeit cracked, shield, looking around for whatever could have made the sound.]

Did you hear that? I fear I cannot detect what it is, but pray stay close if you cannot defend yourself.

[He doesn't even know you, random stranger, but he will sure as hell protect you from whatever creatures may be lurking in the shadows.]

B) In the city;

[Having dealt with his arrival, he's now exploring the city. He understand where he is scantly, but figures exploring and meeting the inhabitants may prove useful, if not beneficial. He is ever cautious, however, with the skittering creatures lurking in the shadows, and whatever else might show up, he knows better than to let his guard down.

Despite that, he will be approaching those he comes across, so enjoy having a 6'8 elf man approach you, dressed in a chainmail haubergeon, armed with a sword and a kite shield to boot!]

Pray excuse me—I am Lord Haurchefant, and if you would afford me some of your time, I would greatly appreciate it.

[Little does he want to bumrush anyone with a load of questions if they are unwilling to lend him their time, so he's gonna keep it simple for now.]

b

[sparkler]

[None of them can really be said to be old hands at this place, but Dorian has at least been here for a month, and as such he's been helping out the new arrivals where he can. A bit of judicious application of magic here, a helping hand there. Nothing too taxing or heroic - Dorian may enjoy some dramatics, but he has to conserve his strength.

He doesn't back away at the approach, though, instead looking up at the elven man. Taller than the ones at home, certainly, and quite well-armed.]

Ah, you're in luck. You're looking for time, and I've got a bit to spare. What can I help you with, ser?

sam | open!

[baths]

→ INSIDE

[ every fiber of her being is still telling her not to move a muscle when sam finally opens her eyes, ears ringing from a deafening shriek that she swears happened beside her just a second ago. even her clothes are still soaking wet and half frozen with snow clumped onto a few spots. it takes minutes for a train of thought that isn't "don't move. don't. move." to come back to her. when living means staying so still you don't even breathe, that's what you do. that's what you focus on.

it isn't until she spots other people further off (people, not... not a wendigo) from her place in the dirt that she wills herself to get up. it sparks a tiny bit of hope in her heart. she's here. are the others? it's something to shift her focus onto, at least.

there's a tiredness that comes with getting up, and a biting cold she's never felt in her life seeping into her bones. while it's more of a mild temperature here (wherever this is) than in the lodge, it still makes heaving herself off the ground a lot harder than it should be, if her groan is any indication. still, part of her is grateful for the reminder that she's alive. alive's a good start.

once off the ground, sam hugs herself as she gets more of an eyefull of her surroundings, her gaze illuminated by a beam from the head torch fashioned at her forehead. there's no one immediately recognizable at first glance, and she has absolutely no idea how she came to be in the middle of a colloseum. a million questions race through her head, sure, but now is... definitely not the time for them, especially once she sees— something flee her light. ]

Oh shit! [ it comes out a little too loudly for her liking as she ducks behind the closest of the creepy lamps. then, she waits. waits for that dreadful, familiar shriek... but it never comes.

man, does she miss that shovel right about now. ]

... Is it a wendigo? [ she blurts out, this time her volume's adjusted to something like a stage whisper, just loud enough for whoever's nearest to hear. please let someone hear her. ]

→ OUTSIDE

[ leaving feels wrong when there are still people inside who may need help... but then so does running back in and getting killed.

sam's not terribly well equipped to deal with face-eating monsters, but she can't just do nothing when someone needs help. she'll be hovering around the entrance, calling out and trying to usher people in the right direction — and to deter whatever may be following those people with her flashlight. key word being try. there's still a bit of hope that she'll spot a friend, but sam's main concern is getting anyone and everyone away from those monsters.

in between that, she'll be fumbling with her newly found phone and cursing under her breath when the memorized-by-heart phone numbers she's padding in fail to connect to anything. anyone.

911 is also a miss. go figure. ]

→ OTHER

[ wildcard! hit me up at yoink if you wanna plot anything out! ]

Outside!

[thechoiceisyours]

[Chris is facing a similar dilemma as Sam; he's gotten out, but it seems wrong to leave anyone else who might still be in the arena. But at the same time he's not sure what exactly he can do, considering he's unarmed and his leg is killing him at this point.

So he's just kind of hovering around outside, trying to figure out a way to help--maybe there's a better passage in and out of the arena than the one he used--when blonde hair catches his eye. More specifically it's that the blond hair belongs to someone who looks incredibly familiar, though it's utterly surreal to see her here in the midst of this mess and so for a moment he's really not sure if he's hallucinating or something.]

S-Sam? Is that you?

boss | open

[camouflage]

EVADE & ESCAPE

At least they didn't put a bag on his head.

It's the first thought that pops into his mind when John finally regains consciousness. He was no stranger to being a prisoner, but it had been at least a decade since he was last captured. Maybe he had finally become too comfortable with his own title, like the whisper of the name Big Boss was enough to keep people from doing anything stupid. Which it was, but that was neither here nor there.

After regaining his footing, John didn't linger long among the small crowd of people. They looked about as lost as he felt, so asking them about the situation was a moot point. Some of them were armed, some had animals with them. One looked like she had an elaborate costume on. No matter how they look, though, John makes no contact with any of them. Survival instincts tell him to trust no one, make no assumptions. Considering he's managed to stay alive 49 years, John sticks to what he knows.

And what he knows is, he needs to get out of here. The wheres, whys, and hows can come later, when he's not in a coliseum surrounded by the noise of trouble in the distance and light-sources attached to humanoid bodies. John takes up his side arm and the lighter in his pocket, heading for an opening. Might be the way out, might just be another trap.

MAKING DO

For an abandoned city, much of which is in disarray and decay, it's surprisingly easy to find base comforts. The first few days following his harrowing escape, survival in a strange land had been the foremost thought on John's mind. The dark and dangerous coliseum had initially painted a pretty grim picture for what the future held in regards to getting by.

The old soldier had never been so glad to be so wrong.

Shelter, food, and water are the basic things to establish in any survival situation. Usually, it's a test of willpower and knowledge to be able to secure those things quick enough to be considered out of danger. John found them all on the first day, all within walking distance.

So much for struggle.

With a safe place to stay secured and a supply of water hoarded away, John picks his way through the stores for anything useful. Clothes, food, any good tools he might need. He's almost a little disappointed he won't get to break out those survival skills he honed in the jungle, almost 20 years back.

evade and escape

[swarm_embrace]

Kerrigan herself had wasted no time leaving the people in the coliseum behind for the maze of hallways. She had her Zergling at her side as she worked her way through the halls, picking choices that seemed most likely to lead outside. The communication device she found near her when she woke up was a serviceable light source, turned on with its screen facing away from her.

She came around a corner with a faint flickering light only to come more or less face to face with a man holding a gun and a lighter. He was missing an eye, and looked like he knew what he was doing. Kerrigan lowered the limbs on her back and folded them up a little more in an effort to appear less threatening. "At least someone showed up prepared for this little party." Even if he was a little less armored than she would prefer. If he wasn't hostile, they might even be able to work together.