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TDM #9

➥ Arrival

Photo of a modern office building from the outside. There is a manicured lawn with several trees and bushes. To the left side of the photo, there is a waterbody with reeds around the fringes. There is a purple gradient filter over everything.
(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.)

➥ The Road We All Must Travel

Photo of someone in blue jeans and brown boots walking along a path in the Dogtown forest. The trees do not have foliage, the sky is blue, and there is one of the Babson boulders to the left that reads 'study.'
(cw: death, child death, semi-graphic description of injury, existential terror, memory manipulation (adding memories))

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, especially not with recent events that have transpired surrounding Dogtown. An employee gives you a number to call if anything truly dangerous happens and you've been left with another person at the trailhead. 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.

There is a body on the side of the path. From a distance, it's hard to tell who it might be… apart from someone who's made terrible life choices about where to take a break. You might find the body propped up against a boulder, lying in the snow, or even slumped on a bench. Approaching, though, brings into view… someone. Maybe someone you recognize vaguely. Do you know them from- Where exactly do you know them from? Or maybe it's a complete stranger, someone foreign in face and form.

The body is never the same for any groups of people who might happen upon it. One time, it's a young white man dressed in what seems to be parachute pants, a boombox fallen or resting with him. Another, it's an Hispanic person, their clothes reminiscent of something out of a western. Still others, it might be a little black girl, looking like she's cosplaying one of the original settlers for Gloucester. People of all different races, ages, genders, times, all beside the path. Some of them look to be obviously dead, their heads caved in or blood splattered across the path. Others, it's harder to tell. They might be someone who's passed out? A drunk who's wandered here from town and could need help.

The moment anyone touches them, though, the body crumbles, something made of ash that simply wipes itself away. And in its place, it leaves memory. The person who touches the body will find themselves reliving the last horrified moments of this person's life. They will know precisely how and when this person died. Every death has some component of agony or fear. No one found passed quickly or painlessly.

Everyone dies, and it is never so kind a thing as they might have hoped. Never.

➥ Prisoners of Consciousness

Photo of a woman of Asian descent banging her hands against a frosted glass pain. The woman looks distressed.
(cw: altered mental states, breathing difficulties, imprisonment, victim-blaming)

Repairs are going about as well as they can be at ADI; the building still bears the scars of last month's attack but day to day matters slump back toward the status quo now that the acute crisis has passed. For a few days it actually seems as though the press of unending needs and obligations has abated, like a massive crushing stone lifted from one's back to allow a gasp of breath, leaving workers and residents reeling in the exhausted aftermath.

It doesn't last, but when the pressure intensifies once more it takes on yet another new form. Things will seem to be back to normal when suddenly you realize that the room in which you find yourself is getting smaller–or perhaps the air has grown stale, perhaps that's why it's suddenly so hard to breathe. You're trapped in here, locked in, locked away. Windows seem to shrink and fortify into slitted openings too tight for escape; what might have been an ordinary office door is now a heavy metal thing fortified with deadbolts.

They've locked you in; they've decided that you're not to move about freely, that you're a danger to others. Are you a danger to others? You must be; you must have done something to deserve this. The question of who 'they' are is one without an answer, a nebulous sense of them, the ones who call the shots, the ones who must be looking out for everyone. They don't speak to you; there's no chance to plead your case, only this miserable, tiny cell and your own guilt over something you must have done. You hear them passing by your door at times, keys jangling, footsteps heavy, but there's no hope of aid from them.

None of it is real. The rooms don't shrink; the doors and windows don't change. To someone not caught up in the illusion, it will seem as though those caught in its grip have gone into hysterics over nothing at all, insisting that they're trapped when all they need to do is open the door.

➥ A Trick of the Dark

Black and white photo of a woman on a cobblestone street at night. She is backlit by a street lamp and appears in silhouette, her features completely obscured. She is holding something in her left hand.
(cw: monsters in the dark, altered mental states, semi-graphic description of injury)

When the crushing claustrophobia finally abates, this time seemingly for good, the shadow woman makes her first appearance. She is seen only in darkness at nighttime, silhouetted in a doorway or lurking in an underpass. Turn on the lights, and there's nothing there–it must have been a trick of the light, the mind making connections out of something seen from the corner of one's eye.

Turn off the lights, though, and there she is again.

She's patient at first, toying with her prey. Lights on, and you're safe. Lights off and the figure returns, still and staring and something you can almost convince yourself you've somehow imagined. But leave the lights on too long, play with the light switch too many times, or watch her too closely, and her patience has an end. When she finally moves, she's fast, charging across a darkened street or a darkened room, the only expression visible on her face is the inhuman light in her eyes, and there is nothing left except to run for the nearest patch of brightness in the night. Maybe you even get away–flee to the circle of sickly light under a lamppost and she must halt at the edge of the darkness, unable to follow. She might circle, waiting for you to make a run for it, or she might disappear back into the night. Will you chance a sprint to the next pool of light?

For those she catches, there is pain. There are rending claws that leave her mark, bleeding, on her victims–but the pain does not end in death. It ends in madness. You may descend into a state beyond thought, mind disappearing into a panicked fugue from which you will retain no memories. Or you may believe yourself to be still fighting off the creature of the night and legions like her, using your environment to protect yourself, to stave off attack.

Those unaffected will see what is truly happening: victims of the creature run rampant in frenzied efforts to bring more and more darkness to the nighttime city. Wild-eyed and unaware, they may start at something as simple as unscrewing a lightbulb, or engage in something as complex as cutting power to entire buildings. Regular citizens of Gloucester fall victim along with the people of ADI and sabotage runs rampant through the city, but it seems that above all else, ADI itself is the target of these attempts to turn out the lights. Panic begins to spread throughout the city as the attacks continue night after night.

➥ Mod Notes

ARRIVAL (March 1 - 31): 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 Road We All Must Travel (March 1 - 31): The bodies found can be photographed, but they'll turn up blurred. There's nothing that can be gleaned about the bodies from a distance, only by moving close and touching them. The bodies can be anyone from any time and any place, even other worlds. Characters might even see non-human races represented. In every case, the body will disappear when touched and characters will pick up the final moments of the person's life. Players are welcome to make these final moments anything they want. The person could have died by mundane or supernatural means, but they will have died a painful or terrifying death in some way.
Prisoners of Consciousness (March 4 - 12): Episodes in which characters believe themselves to be imprisoned will occur exclusively on ADI property and in the Flophouse. The hallucinations may last for minutes or hours, though characters are likely to perceive time as though they were imprisoned much longer. Characters not affected by the hallucination may help pull others out of it by grounding them in reality, but it is also possible for them to be drawn into the hallucination themselves if they become frightened.
A Trick of the Dark (Nights of March 12 - 15) While people who have been caught by the apparition seem to focus their attacks on ADI property, the shadow woman herself never appears within ADI offices or apartments. She may sometimes appear in the Flophouse, and frequently appears outdoors, in darkened hallways of local businesses, and in the homes of locals. ADI housing curfew at 11:00 PM each night is still in effect; characters who stay out later may crash at HQ but will not be let into the apartments (they may also be able to get into the Flophouse…if its residents are kind enough to take them in). Characters caught by the shadow woman will experience confusion, terror, and compulsion to sabotage lighting, particularly in and around ADI property, until dawn of the next day. Characters who attempt to fight the shadow woman will find that she fights back (and that any scratch from her claws still causes the fugue state); if they manage to pin her down she will dissipate into shadows.
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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Although his confidence in traveling through Gloucester has certainly increased, Garner still spends a lot of his time in the relatively easier to navigate halls of the ADI properties.

He’d only stopped in this room to drop something off, but the sound of movement somewhere above him has him pausing to listen.

He likely does look out of place, he’s dressed in what he arrived in -black leathers and sturdy fabric of a cooler climate- since he was still unsure of what clothing options there were, it made more sense. He also never goes anywhere without his glaive strapped to his back. So when the movement comes closer, his hand is half way towards the weapon when a perky voice greets him.

Well…ok.

Clouded eyes don’t look up at the vent-person, but Garner’s brows raise, then crowed together in confusion. “Ah…hello, Jester. Why are you in the vents?”

Edited 2022-03-30 02:38 (UTC)

"I don't know, actually!" There's a great clattering as Jester wriggles around and finally gains enough leverage to awkwardly drop down feet first. "One minute I was walking to the port and the next I was crawling around with all the icky little spiders."

She dusts off her skirt and straightens herself up generally. "What's your name? Do you know where we are?"

Finally on the ground, Jester takes a moment the size up her company. Tall, dark hair, leather armor. Handsome, if she noticed such things anymore since she totally has a boyfriend (only she does notice because she's attached, not dead.) His eyes are the last thing she notices, clouded and scarred. It takes a distinct effort to not just blurt out that he's blind, but she manages.

Oh…a new arrival? He’d arrived in a room -a break room, he’d learned later- he hadn’t realized the vents were an option. And probably better he hadn’t.

More importantly, the more she talked, the more he felt eased by her voice. Specifically, her accent. It wasn’t quiet the same, but similar enough that it prodded at the part of him that ached with homesickness. That ached for comfort and soft words not truly his to hear, but that he listened to as thankfully as a beggar offered bread.

Luckily, her tone and enthusiasm were more than enough to offer the pang and little other distraction.

“I am Garner and you’ve been brought to a city known as Gloucester. On Earth, I am told. You sound…” he hesitates. It doesn’t seem possible, but Caduceus was from his world, so perhaps…

“You sound like you’re from near Port Zoon on the Menagerie Coast.”

The question of where the heck Earth is and how they're on it is completely lost when he correctly guesses her origin. Or close to it anyway. "Oh my gosh, I am from the Menagerie Coast! Not Port Zoon though, I'm from Nicodranas! I've actually never been to Port Zoon but I hear they make a lot of things there. People come to the Chateau sometimes and tell my mama about it and I listened sometimes. But now my home is the sea." She poses dramatically, knowing he can't see her and not caring in the slightest. The tone of voice tells all regardless.

"So anyway, are we still in Wildemount then or-- I don't know, this is like Aeor but like... also not. Everything's weird. Where are you from? This Earth place here? And where in Exandria is Earth anyway? And why would someone name their land after a name for the ground anyway? That's kind of confusing, don't you think?"

Welcome to twenty questions asked at the speed of light, a game brought to you by Jester Lavorre.

That…is so much. He’s thankful he doesn’t have the additional level of needing to see the pose she clearly strikes, because he’s still trying to catch up with each question. By the end, he settles on the crux of the issue.

He raises a hand, palm out, as though he might stop her stream of curiosity long enough to have a breath. “I am from Tal’dorei. The world is called Earth, it is a silly name, but not Exandria at all.”

His hand lowers again and there’s a genuinely sympathetic expression on his face, even if it’s not directed quite at her.

“I’m sorry, we are not home in the slightest. We’ve been…well, taken is the best word for it.”

Instead of shock or dismay, Jester lets out the longest uuugggghhhhhhhh sound of her life.

"Again?! Oh man. And I don't have a fork for the material plane, just the Astral Sea and I definitely don't want to go back there." She shudders, and while there's still a theatricality to it, the unwillingness it represents is genuine. "Maybe there's another cleric here that could send us back. If we can do that, I have some friends who could teleport you back to Tal'dorei. I'm sure they won't mind!"

"How long have you been stuck here? Who took us? How come?" She thinks those are probably the most important questions right now...

Very suddenly she gasps and grabs at her hood. "Where's Sprinkle?!"

On a positive note: while she asked several questions in a row, she did seem to listen when he offered answers. So he’s patient through her charming prattle until one of the questions begged another.

“There…is another cleric. Who or what is sprinkle?”

"That's good! Unless they're stuck here too, then it won't really work. Or if they're an evil cleric or something." She continues to rummage as words fall from her in a stream of consciousness, taking off her haversack and then her cloak, trying to see if Sprinkle is somehow hiding in the folds or pockets.

"Sprinkle is my crimson weasel and also kind of my God? Or not really, but the Traveler is in him sometimes and can talk to me so it'd be really helpful right now but I dont--" She huffs, sitting very suddenly on the floor with her bag and a good deal of its contents out on the floor around her, sounding disappointed, a little annoyed, and maybe a little lonely. "I don't think he's here."

....Right. Okay. Generally, he could roll with a lot of what anyone might say to him. He usually finds himself taking people at face-value unless something specific tips him off otherwise. Unfortunately, nothing is tipping him off...which means he really ought to just take her word for this-

"I'm...sorry, I'm trying to understand. Your god, the Traveler, is in your weasel?" Okay, Gods could appear in different forms and she said he was there sometimes, so maybe. "I'm not familiar with any 'Traveler' god. If it's any consolation, I had a hand on my dragon-friend before arriving here, but he did not come with me. I suspect the spell that brought us is only meant for one lifeform at a time."

And probably not occasional-god-weasels, either.

She would have tried to give an explanation that undoubtedly would have ended up being more confusing than helpful but he said 'dragon-friend' and that bears more explaining than god-weasel. "You're friends with a dragon?!"

Yes. Okay. He maybe shouldn't mention the dragon-friend, it has thrown everyone off so far, but he tries not to lie if it's not necessary.

"Yes. Sort of. He's very young, who his friends are isn't really his decision right now, but he helps guide me through crowded streets." A beat and he smiles, his tone softer. "His name is Kruos."

This is a good time to move the conversation back on tracks, though. "The cleric I mentioned is stuck here as well, but he comes from our world. He is a very gentle person and good to know, regardless.

Garner says the cleric he knows is gentle and Exandrian and Jester immediately thinks of Caduceus. And then immediately shoves that thought from her mind. She hopes it is, of course, but also that it's not him. He traveled with them for so long and did so much and she knows that he just wants to settle back down in the Grove now with his family and make tea. He doesn't deserve to be stuck here in this weird place.

"How young is young?" She gasps. "Is it a baby dragon?! A seeing-eye baby dragon! That's amazing! I know someone who has a seeing-eye hummingbird named The Duchess but a dragon is totally cool. I mean, as long as it's not big and mean. We fought a dragon once - twice, actually, since she tracked us all the way to Eiselcross - but she was an Elder dragon so I guess she just got super cranky cause she was so old. Or it could be because we tried to take her stuff."

All of this is way easier to talk about than if its Caduceus that's here or not.

There's a flicker of confusion in his expression, but it's gone quickly. If it were him, he'd want to know more about people from home. He hadn't pestered Mercy, but he'd at least gotten a name before letting the topic go. Although, he supposed a dragon was a decent enough topic to get distracted with.

"He is a baby, perhaps only a few weeks old. I suspect no one, particularly Elder dragons, would be happy with someone taking their stuff. It was my understanding dragons horded things." There's more confusion and his head tilts slightly. "Why were you trying to take a dragon's things anyway?"

"Oh my gosh I have to draw that!" Jester is a sudden flurry of movement as she slips her haversack from one shoulder and reaches inside for her sketchbook. As she rummages, she answers his other question.

"Well it wasn't actually the dragon's thing because we put a mithril ingot where the dragon would breath ice because I don't know if you know but if a dragon breaths ice breath on mithril it turns into iceflex which is a super magical material but she carried off the bait we put and the iceflex was stuck to it so we had to go get it from her lair and there was other cool stuff there so... Woah."

She trails off and gulps a little, having finally caught a glance inside her bag when her fingers didn't immediately find her book. "The inside of my bag is super weird and barfy."

He had no idea what iceflex was, at least not until just now....and it does make him wonder if something would happen if Kruos breathed his light onto a metal ingot, but it's hardly a useful thought when the dragon in question couldn't try it.

Her abrupt change has that confusion turning to interest and he takes a step nearer on instinct but stops. What was he going to do, take a look?

"I'm...sorry? Weird how?"

"It's like... spinny." She closes the bag for a moment until her nausea abates. She's definitely going to need to reach in there without looking from now on, if she can. Though her difficulty in finding the sketchbook might be an indication that it won't be that easy.

"It's fine, I'm probably just all weird from having got here. Interplanar travel does that, you know." She looks down at her bag. "It's weird, though. I've never felt like I was going to fall in my bag and spin away before..."

"That does sound concerning." Why would a bag do that? He'd heard of some things coming through wrong, though he hadn't noticed much of his own items acting odd. Then again, if they were spinning, he's not sure how he'd know.

"Was it a bag of holding? Some magic items act odd here, I believe. Though, I'd suspect it's more to do with being here than having got here. Just be careful with it, if it's been altered."

"It's like a bag of holding, but not exactly. Pumat called it a Handy Haversack. Oh, and it's pink! I feel like you could know that since you can't see it." It's a very important detail.

Wait...

"What do you mean altered?"

The detail about it being pink, sadly, goes largely unnoted as his brows pull tighter together.

"Well...I'm not entirely sure, it hasn't seemed to affected any of my items, but some magical items might be altered by the entities when you get here. Oh- the not-quite-betrayer gods of this realm. They're like-"

Whatever he's about to say it cut off by the door of their room opening and someone bustling in to fuss over Jester and her arrival. Ah. Well, they would tell her soon enough.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TDM #9

Arrival

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