![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsehowmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
redstringtheories2021-09-05 08:32 am
TDM #3
(cw: potential for severe disorientation/vertigo, claustrophobia, arachnophobia, body horror)
It happens in the blink of an eye. You may have been asleep. You may not have. You may have stepped through a door or turned a corner. You may have seen a flicker of something at the corner of your vision and turned to look. Or maybe you didn't.
It doesn't matter. What matters is that you find yourself somewhere entirely new and entirely unfamiliar. The arrival point is not always the same. (If you're lucky, it might be a canteen or an open office. If you're not, well... you aren't claustrophobic, are you? Or arachnophobic. These ducts do seem to be a bit cobwebby.) There is no one waiting for you but you don’t seem to be alone, either. Even in a janitor’s closet or the bathroom, you’ll find at least one person who seems to be just as out of place as you are.
If characters have arrived in a location devoid of NPCs, they may want to work together to figure out what is going on... or to avoid their 'kidnappers.' If you’ve arrived in the middle of the entry foyer or the gym, there may well be a few people who startle a bit at your arrival and try to approach (or discreetly leave the room... where are they going?). Will you cooperate or fight? Do you even understand what they're saying? You might need to find a translator, if you’re not immediately willing to follow a stranger.
After characters follow their new hosts (or are forcibly taken in) there will be a limited tour and the chance to settle in at the ADI-provided housing. (Do you enjoy living with strangers? Well. It's a new situation to navigate, anyway.)
(cw: animal death, both human and animal butchery, implied cannibalism, potential for flesh/small limb removal)
Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. The Apocalypse Disruption Initiative (ADI) is not above taking advantage of that to test out the waters for its newest arrivals. They're not looking to send anyone to their death, though. That's far too much paperwork, you'd been assured with a wink from the employee who'd directed you to the park trailhead. You've been left with another person. Maybe they're a new arrival, as well, or a more seasoned 'veteran.' Either way, you're together for the next while and you've been asked to find and record any paranormal activity in the park. You have your phones and any other equipment you might have brought with you. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit.
This month characters who venture into Dogtown will eventually stumble across what seems to be an abandoned camp. Its usage is fairly obvious: the remains of a hunting camp. And remains really is the operative word, considering that whoever used the camp wasn’t particularly fastidious about cleaning up after themselves. There are bits of various animal carcasses strewn around and by the looks of things the prey of these hunters was quite varied. Not all of them are prey animals either.
Stepping into the camp seems to have an effect: anyone who passes over the threshold to investigate will find themselves powerfully driven to mark themselves - or their partner - with lines that seem to indicate where a butcher might cut. There are black, red, and white paint pens littered around the camp that are perfect for this exercise. As they proceed, they will get the sense that once the lines are completely drawn, something will be coming along to make use of them.
Staying too long after those marks are completed - either through curiosity or through some other force - will result in a sudden unconsciousness. And when you wake up? (If you wake up…) Well. It seems the butcher has returned and taken just a bit more flesh. At least the wound is properly dressed, though. Thank goodness for small mercies.
(cw: altered perceptions and unreality/hallucination, body horror, dissociation, wounds, cancer, stalking)
Something is wrong with the mirrors.
Everywhere around Gloucester - at ADI headquarters, in ADI housing, at Bonnie's Flophouse, even in the bathrooms of mundane businesses (and, presumably, the homes of the innocent and uninvolved), looking in the mirror has become...risky. It's not predictable; it doesn't happen every time and may or may not happen to any given person the same way twice, but look into the reflection and you may see something that should not be there.
Perhaps your own reflection has changed, a face (human or monstrous) you don't recognize looking back at you, eerily in sync as though it has every right to be your true reflection… or un-synced from your movements, smiling knowingly at your distress.
Or maybe you still see your own face, but something about your body is warped, wrong: a growth or a seeping wound you can't find on your own physical form but that exists glaring and insistent in your reflection and feels, somehow, as though it's there in phantom form.
Maybe it's a pair of eyes watching from over your shoulder, hiding in the shadows, peering at you from every mirror you pass. Is it watching you from your reflection in that window, too? Is it growing nearer?
Possibly there's nothing wrong with your reflection at all, but the reflection of the room behind you stretches and twists, a view into an impossible, broken world that leaves you dizzy and wandering, lost down an imagined maze of hallways or following a phantom figure until someone else can snap you out of it.
Something is wrong with the mirrors. Best not to look again, lest you find out what else they have to show you.
(cw: hallucination, hypersomnia, vehicular accidents, potential for injury)
The summer is fading, and businesses around Gloucester have taken note. Fall decorations go up, and even some very early Halloween decor is on sale. The air is crisper in the mornings and evenings, the ocean breeze just a bit stiffer. There also seems to be a new melody floating around the town, one that leaves people feeling fatigued, heavy. Did you hear a snatch of it near the docks? Something that's vaguely familiar to you, nostalgic, almost. Maybe it's more a memory?
That song or memory seems to grow stronger when approaching the graveyards scattered throughout Gloucester. So, too, does the fatigue. Wouldn't it be nice to just sit down and rest? To close your eyes and let every worry that troubles your mind be soothed into the quiet oblivion of sleep?
Those most affected might find themselves passing out, and they always seem to do it when they are putting themselves in the most danger. You might drop while crossing a busy street or while riding a bike or some other wheeled mode of transportation. Those who investigate will find that traffic accidents seem to have seen an uptick recently, associated with the onset of these haunting tunes. They seem to be focused on the graveyards, but there's nothing immediately apparent there that might be causing problems.
Drink lots of coffee, and be careful trying to do anything. Stepping outside could be the last thing you do.
- ARRIVAL (Sep 1 - 21): Two people will always arrive in the same general location together. Arrivals occur throughout the early month, not all on the same day or in the same place. Arrivals are not naturally fluent in English/other languages immediately upon arrival. Characters may attempt to evade capture, but they will eventually be snagged before they can leave the building. PC's already in-game are more than welcome to interact with and try to guide new PC's to get them oriented. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.
- THE BUTCHER'S CAMP (Sep 1- 24): Characters will only encounter the camp once. Everyone will feel the compulsion to draw carving lines along their own skin or that of the person they're with. If they stick around for long enough, they will pass out and may not wake up again. Those who do wake up will find that a piece of their flesh is missing and the wound has been bandaged. Whatever is taken will be non-fatal, but it will likely be inconvenient (e.g., some part of their calf or forearm, perhaps a finger or toe). Once ADI is made aware of injuries happening, they will stop sending people to Dogtown for training and only send people with the understanding that this is a potentially dangerous mission. Please bear in mind that if a character dies in the TDM prompt, they are dead. A different version who doesn't have TDM memories may be apped in their place. Similarly, injuries will not magically disappear. If your character loses a chunk of themselves, it is gone unless they can find someone who might be able to magically heal them. No one at ADI will offer this service, just mundane medical assistance. Magical healing is reserved for fatal injuries given the price of it!
- MIRROR, MIRROR (Sep 1- 24): Characters may encounter a mirror effects multiple times, and may experience the same effect each time or different ones. As noted in the prompt, there is no apparent rhyme or reason to when any particular mirror exhibits any particular effect. Within the first week of the effects becoming known, ADI will cover all the mirrors within their headquarters and send out an advisory for characters to do the same in their homes. Characters who experiment and/or interview locals will, after a lot of legwork, be able to ascertain that the effects seem to be most concentrated on the west side of town, nearest the empty fields where the Fenix Down Extravaganza had set up their circus tents last month, with additional concentrations around ADI-affiliated buildings and Bonnie's Flophouse. Mirror effects will gradually grow less frequent over the course of the month and cease to occur after the 24th.
- HAUNTING TUNES (Ongoing Effect): The tunes will be oddly familiar to the character, even if they are not from modern Earth. There are currently no ill effects from the song apart from inducing fatigue in characters. They can fight it off with coffee/caffeine, or other things they'd typically use to wake themselves up, but that tiredness always returns. An examination of the graveyard will not turn up a specific source. It just seems to be something there.
Essek Thelyss | Critical Role
[Essek Thelyss did not know where he was.
It was disconcerting, this strange vertigo that settled in the back of his head as he stood in a room he did not recognize, something lined with desks with papers and …boxes atop them. Light streamed in from the widows that made his sensitive eyes squint, and the carpet was thin, flat.
And he was standing on it. Standing. Not floating, but standing.
What was this? A forced vision? Confusion? …not Banishment because no other plane looked like this. But as he tried to float again – less for the aesthetics and more to see if he could – nothing happened. ]
Caleb? Jester? [It was an effort to keep the panic out of his voice, but he had years of training to do so. Being the Shadowhand had its advantages.]
The Butcher’s Camp - cw: blood, gore
[What was a hundred dollars worth?
Not as much as the information.
Essek didn’t mind the human looking façade; he had grown used to wearing disguises over the years, both for good reasons and…less than. It looked closer than what he usually wore: dark brown skin instead of the purple hues, rounded ears still pierced several times over, white hair that hadn’t changed.
He had readily volunteered to go out here, hoping to find more answers about this place and understand the world and its dangers beyond what was fed to them. It had seemed a reasonable idea at the time, but as he smelled the death and scraps of carcasses, he wasn’t sure that applied anymore. He had seen camps before, but this- this was off.]
I…do not like this. [He shook his head slowly. He looked at the “phone”, this machine he still did not trust or like, then at the camp. Some of the viscera reminded him of a city he longed to forget.]
How long do you think this camp has been abandoned?
Mirror, Mirror
[Essek saw it in the window the first time, in the glass at night when the reflection was strong and sharp enough to see himself. It had been red and large and smooth against his throat, that eye in his skin staring back at him. He had gasped and gone to the bathroom to see it properly, finding his neck smooth and unburdened, the violet skin bearing no red eye tattooed there.
It had to be the stress of this strange place, the concern he had for his own lack of magic and many, many questions. He thought no more of it, preparing to settle himself as best he could.
But the next day, as he was walking past another set of windows in a common area, he found that red eye on his throat, as if it had never left. He could hear his hear slamming in chest and he worried-worried the other eyes were there, too, the ones he could not see. Fingers curled over his throat, rubbing at the skin as if he could get rid of the mark, his breath coming faster.]
Impossible. [He – and the city – were gone. This could not be happening.]
Haunting Tunes
[Essek remembered this sound: he had been taught dances to it when he was young. His mother had told him it was important for the high profile and political dinners he would be invited to; celebrations had their moments of levity too. He had learned with a dispassionate distance of someone getting through something unfortunately necessary so they could get back to what was really important.
It was still familiar, warm, something curious on why it would be here of all places. He followed the sound, worried if he would find someone else pulled from Rosohna, if it would be someone wishing him a rightful death. But the more he walked, the more tired he became, the lethargy in his bones in a way that was not common; he was used to weariness, but sleep was not something he normally did.
But there was a heaviness in his eyelids that felt as though Trancing would not solve. And as he walked across the street towards the graveyard, he didn’t see the coming traffic and the lights bearing down on him.]
Butchers Camp
She hums in agreement. It's all... very disgusting to her, to be honest. She doesn't want to get any of the viscera on her clothes. But she's used to doing worse for money.] Hard to say. Sometimes with these places it's up for debate whether anything was here in the first place. The priority is harvesting fear, nothing else.
[She pinches her nose in disgust.] Smells awful though.
no subject
At least that they could see. He wasn’t quite ready to write off the possibility of physical creatures that did this. .]
How many compromised locations have you been to? By your words, I am assuming that this is not your first?
[He looked down near their feet, found a rock and lobbed it over to see if any trap sprung or the view wavered.]
no subject
You're the second elf we've had, I think. First one being me, naturally. [That's her attempt to make conversation. She'll pick up a rock and toss it in the same way, though targetting the tents specifically, just to check if there's any traps meant to spring if they took a closer look.]
no subject
He watched the rock sink into the fabric of the tent, then roll off. Nothing came out, nothing emerged. There was no sound aside from the zip of stone sliding down and the soft thwap as it landed on the ground.]
I wonder if elves have a natural resistance to being drawn here. [His eyes flickered over to her, then back to the camp, trying to count all the piles of meat.]
Where city do you belong to?
no subject
[She's going to stand up and walk closer into the camp, keeping her eyes peeled for traps. They won't do anything if they never actually step foot on the campgrounds.]
mirror mirror
Still, it means she needs to check up on her other crew, and that means it's not hard to find Essek in front of a mirror looking like he's about to claw out his own throat. She calls from down the hall as she approaches, remembering to give anyone panicking a berth wide enough that she won't get hit immediately.]
Hey-- hey, Essek. You got a zit or what?
no subject
A zit.]
If only.
[His heart still thundered in his chest, and he looked at her with concern. Slowly, his hand slid away from the dark column of his unblemished neck.]
Tell me what you see.
no subject
'Ss just your neck. Lemme guess, mirrors showing you eyes n' shit?
arrival
It took an embarrassingly long time to do both. His ears continued to ring.
He came around one of the bank of desks, now that he had eyes on Essek and his obvious distress, as quickly as he could. His hip and thigh slammed into one of the desks and he swore noisily, but he kept coming.
"Essek."
no subject
The thunk of the wizard hitting the desk made him flinch and yes, neither of them were in a good space, where they? Certainly not useful if they could barely stand up and walk a straight path. Whatever confusion was there needed to be dispelled and yet-
He almost asked him questions that neither of them would know, a waste of breath. Instead, he fought the urge to grab his hand and asked the important thing-
“Can you cast?”
A question that Essek would only ask that if he could not.
no subject
He did not stand except when he was very comfortable, and this was not a situation that inspired comfort. There was no reason for him to be down like that.
He quickly palmed phosphorous and snapped it between his fingers for the cantrip, hoping for the motes of light to instinctively float around them as they had many times before, as they were meant to. Instead, the red smear didn't even spark as it normally did.
He snapped again. Again. His stomach roiled uncomfortably as he looked up at Essek.
no subject
The answer was a bitter no.
His eyes flickered from Caleb’s hands to his own feet, before looking around the odd room. There had to be something here, something stopping them that he hadn’t yet found. A sigil, an item, a monster, something. Instead, there were boxes and papers, strange desks and mesh chairs with wheels underneath.
He went to one of the boxes, thin and square. He toyed with the idea of tossing it to the floor before catching himself; who knew what was in there, what dangers were under it.
“What do you see out of the window?”
Apologies, Caleb, but it was a bit too bright for him.
no subject
Touching Essek felt warmer than normal. Was that Essek, or him? He couldn't tell. Simply that the touch was almost uncomfortable for a moment. He didn't linger on why that might be.
It was more careful, this time, moving through the space. The humming buzz was still in his ears, but it was easier to orient himself through the space and make his way from the drow to the bank of windows on the other side of the room. Outside, the sun gleamed through low, thin clouds. There was trees, and grass, everything too manicured and cared for. If he looked at things for too long, it made him dizzy again.
"Nothing familiar," he said, looking back at Essek.
no subject
He looked to the drawers in the desk, opening one and rifling through it for some hints; inside, he found so much paper and other things, some sticky, some writing utensils, other pieces he didn’t know. The paper – which felt thinner and was far whiter than he was used to - was removed and set on top, before closing the drawer.
He did not like this. Any of this.
Fingers touched his forehead, trying not to think about how it felt where Caleb kissed him, not as comforting as it normally was. “Banishment?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow. "Although that would not explain what happened to our magic."
no subject
He came away from the window, approaching Essek as he dug through the desk drawers. He picked up a sheaf of paper, feeling the texture, holding it up to the light like that would unlock the mystery of it.
"I have never had Banishment cast on me, I wouldn't know what being on a demiplane feels like. Do you think it stalls your connection to the arcane? Perhaps..." He looked at Essek thoughtfully, but worried.
mirror mirror
He's been having his own problem with mirrors.
"I know some good tattoo artists," he says from where he's leaning. "You can't really cover them up, but you can hide them."
His accent isn't nearly so pronounced as the one Essek might remember.
no subject
He turned slightly, looking at the tiefling’s reflection and holding his breath. Kingsley, yes? But the tone was ever-so-slightly off.
“I fear that the peacock motif has already been taken by someone who would wear it far better than I,” he pointedly said, fingers slowly sliding away.
“You can see it then?”