TDM #1

[apocalypsehowmods]

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➥ Arrival

(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.)

➥ Sticks and Stones

(cw: hallucination, potential mind-control)

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, there seems to be something odd afoot with the stones around the park. Instead of the questionably useful advice they offer, there is, instead, something embarrassingly or horrifically true about you carved into the stone. Trying to show your companion or gauge their reaction will net nothing; they will simply see their own truth. It's only when you admit to what's on the stone that it seems to become visible to others or any camera in your possession.

Take a picture. The least you deserve for the trouble is some money.

➥ I Will Survive

"We'll have others with you, but all of you will be out on your own for missions, so to speak," the ADI employee who had led you down to the underground training facility explained. "You'll need to have some basic skills. Even if you're not going out soon or ever… it's safer to know these things."

Basic skills, in this case, appear to mean survival and weapons training. The room you've been brought to on Floor B3 below ADI Headquarters is a massive, underground gym, and there are sections set up for various skills practice. One side of the gym is dedicated to fighting: bare-knuckles, wrestling, knives, and tasers are all out on display. There are also a few guns, but those are reserved for people who can prove they can manage the other weapons first. The other side has areas for fire-making, building a shelter, navigating without a phone, supply preparation, cooking, and basic first-aid. Through a side door, there's also a small pool where people are being taught the basics of swimming.

Any or all of these skills would be useful in a dangerous situation, and there aren't enough native ADI employees to cover training for all of them. If you show that you're proficient with something, you'll be asked to man one of the areas to assist in training others. If you're at a loss and looking lost, you will be pushed toward whatever skills practice area is physically closest to you, whether you wanted to learn anything about that or not. Best make the most of it… and try not to kill anyone or burn anything down.

Even those who have refused ADI Housing and taken themselves to Bonnie's Flophouse will find that they're welcome for this training under the strict understanding that no supernatural abilities will be used. Bonnie will have informed them of it and helped them get to ADI to ensure they learn some of the things they might need to survive... and also just to bond with the people they'll be working with for the foreseeable future.

➥ Shifting Perspective

(cw: body horror, implication of near-drowning, violence, potential for blood, gore, drowning, death)

The beaches around Gloucester are numerous and varied with reported supernatural activity at many, if not most of them. For those working with ADI, they'll receive the direction in a mass email from Reyes Amador, the assistant to the Head of ADI. For those not technically working at ADI, Bonnie will provide the same information.

All,

We have received reports of strange noises and sightings at Coffin Beach. Please take at least one other person and investigate. A $300 bonus will be offered to those who bring back evidence of the source of these reports.

Take Care of Yourselves,
Reyes

Those who head to Coffin Beach will find that the sand beneath their feet squeaks softly with each step, like the faint sound of a poorly-maintained hinge protesting their movements. It makes stealth especially difficult, and those who wish to maintain their cover would do well to stay farther up into the vegetation and off the beach, itself. There aren't any houses out this way, just coastal marshes, the beach, and some higher ground with low-growing shrubs, tall grasses, and thin trees.

For the patient, those who wait for night to fall, they will be rewarded when they hear the sound of someone crying. Searching the beach, they will be able to spot a young person who appears to have washed up in a kayak on the beach. The young person is visibly injured in some way with blood coming out of them. Those who approach cautiously may get the sense that there is something not quite right about this person. Man or woman, their face is too long, their angles too sharp.

There is something wrong. It's not the injury.

There is something very wrong with what this person is.

They will not respond to any calls or move from where they lie, half-submerged in the surf. Anyone who approaches within a few feet will discover they're not nearly as helpless as they seem to be, though. The person will burst from the water with a powerful thrust, attempting to tackle anyone nearby and bite them. The person's face transforms into a long, fanged maw, trying to rip and tear and drag their prey into the ocean with them, away from any safety.

➥ Mod Notes

• ARRIVAL: 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. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.
  
  
• STICKS AND STONES: If so desired, to facilitate CR, characters may feel themselves compelled to ask about the stones when they see their truth written on it. Resisting the compulsion will become more and more difficult as time goes on.
  
  
• I WILL SURVIVE: Characters may be students or trainers in this scenario. They might be able to get away with small displays of supernatural abilities if they want to risk it and if they find themselves with the necessary reserves of power. Anything significant will have them immediately removed and asked not to return to ADI for a few days.
  
  
• SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE: Characters may fight off, capture, or kill the creature. If they successfully capture it and bring it back to ADI (or call for someone to come and do that for them), they will receive a significant monetary bonus beyond the promised $300 for their work. If characters successfully kill and document the kill, they will also receive the bonus and instructions to push the body out to sea. If a character is taken by the creature, they will be killed. 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.
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Albert Wesker | Resident Evil

[blackshades]

I. ARRIVAL
The wind rushed past Wesker's ears as he fell toward jagged rocks and icy water below, Jill's warmth and weight against his body the only positive of the situation. If she survived this, she would have no way to stop him from taking her with him to use however he pleased.

A flicker of shadow passed his peripheral vision, but when he turned his head to get a better look, nothing was there. Was it just his imagination? The imminence of the pain he was about to experience had set him on edge, but he was almost sure...

Then, suddenly, his back made impact with a hard surface, far sooner than it should have. The force knocked the wind out of him, causing him to cough while he attempted to take in deep gulps of air. Jill was no longer with him, and when he got to his hands and knees, he realized that there were other people around him, some of them were leaving the room, while others observed from a distance. There were no rocks. There was no icy water. He appeared to be in a gym.

Feeling oddly weak and disoriented, he slowly got to his feet, his breathing settling into its normal rhythm. That was when he noticed there was someone next to him, seeming equally disoriented. Another person was approaching, and with his mind hazy, all he could think of to ask was, "Where am I?"

II. STICKS AND STONES
While Wesker wasn't happy with the situation he now found himself in, he thought the best course of action was to cooperate, for now. That meant going along with the nonsense about paranormal entities and events, which he had never believed in.

Money was an issue for him in this place, and while a hundred dollars wasn't much, it was worth going out into the park to look for any strange activity. If this would prove that there really was something unusual going on, all the better. If not, well, it wasn't as though he had a busy schedule here.

He started off down the trail slightly ahead of the person he'd been partnered with, staying alert for any changes in his surroundings.

"Let's not waste any time," he said in a rather bored tone. "Though I suspect this is nothing more than a wild goose chase."

III. I WILL SURVIVE
The training offered by the ADI was pretty useless to him. Wesker was proficient in combat and survival skills, and he proved as much very quickly. After demonstrating his skill with firearms, he was asked to help train others who either had no experience or weren't as familiar. It wasn't an ideal task, but he had taught people during his time with the military and STARS, so it wasn't anything he hadn't done before.

"Do you have any experience with firearms?" he asked the next person who came over to his station, wanting to get an idea of where to start.

IV. SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE
Once again, the allure of a payday as well as more information about the happenings here sent Wesker out into the field. This time he was sent out to a beach, once again with a partner he didn't feel he needed. Regardless, it wasn't worth putting up a fuss.

The obnoxious squeak of the sound beneath his boots bothered him, and it led him off the beach itself into the vegetation above. His partner could follow along or not, but being able to move silently was important to Wesker, and he wasn't sacrificing that if he didn't have to.

Aside from the sand, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he was patient enough to give it some time.

II

[120vision]

"Wild goose chases can be pretty fun, if you give them a chance." Gojou sounds considerably less bored about this than Wesker does. He's actually pretty excited about getting to go out and investigate, something which shows by the way he rubs his hands together and shifts from foot to foot. "You can find all sorts of things you might not expect."

He's following along but letting the slight distance stand, not really feeling the need to close it yet.

iii.

[deathrespect]

... I mean, I guess. Kinda hate 'em though.

( He considers, and it's obvious that the gravity of the necessary evils are weighing in heavy on his shoulders. They slump a bit. )

More of a blunt force kinda guy.

iii. i will survive

[felttheburn]

"Plenty," Kieran sneers, not even looking at the man who asked him the question. An instructor, probably -- Kieran doesn't need one. He's been shooting since he was this high, he's just here to see what kind of weapons they've been provided.

None look as nice as his custom, but he picks up a large handgun and drops the magazine to see how many bullets it holds. To feel the weight of it in his hand. He always feels better holding a gun.

Malcolm Bright | Prodigal Son

[abrightboy]

ARRIVAL
Malcolm jolts awake in a janitor's closet. It's a memory; it's not real. It feels real. He gets up and bangs on the door. It feels solid. No. Nicky?

He bangs on the door harder with both fists.

"LET ME OUT!" he screams.

I WILL SURVIVE
Malcolm is willing to teach sword fighting, axe throwing or the psychology of murder, but he probably needs lessons in cooking and building a shelter.

i will survive

[cacophonish]

Jeff's got no lessons to offer, and he's something of a poor student, so the ADI employees have been shoving him at every available teacher in the hopes that maybe, eventually, he'll learn one single skill today.

Which is why he's here with Malcolm now. Psychology of murder seems the safest bet. You don't want to trust this skinny musician with a sword or a throwing axe.

"So, uh... Is there gonna be a test at the end of this?"

ARRIVAL

[inlieuofadad]

The screaming is what brings him around. Sharply, rudely, reaching for his gun. He's on his feet in the enclosed space with the weapon out and pointed at the ground before he registers the scream belongs to--

"Malcolm?" There's so much in those two syllables. Desperation, relief, paternal terror. He jams his gun back into its holster and feels around a moment, wrapping his arms around Malcolm from behind to try and hold him still for a moment. "Malcolm! It's okay, you're okay, you're safe. I'll get us out, all right? Do you hear me?"

toji fushiguro | jujutsu kaisen.

[heavenchained]

001 » arrival.

( Disoriented and wobbly on his feet though he is, Toji is still managing to run and lob whatever he can reach at his pursuers.

Thankfully, one of the jackasses who occupies the private office has quite a few pictures of their family on their desk; he's hurling them like it's a more conventional weapon and not completely hilarious before the door roars open again ... )

002 » sticks and stones.

Come the fuck on.

( Toji kicks at the sizeable rock in front of him; while he's not too keen on admitting what's on the rock, he's not going to hide it, either. He looks towards his companion, phone already out and working towards opening the camera. )

I better get a bonus for taking pics of this bullshit.

003 » i will survive.

( Toji was made for this. Or that's what it feels like for all of a moment after the ADI employee gives their pointers and instructions and clears out. Toji knows how to handle all of these weapons and then some.

He's twirling a pistol in one hand and one might notice there's a trench knife on the other hand.

He addresses the nearest person: )

Think we could keep these?

004 » shifting perspective.

( Nope nope nope.

He's been in too many situations like this to just go scampering out there before at least making a plan. And then a back-up plan.

He pulls out his trench knife and secures it on his knuckles before addressing the person who came with him: )

I'll start stabbing if it comes after me, you keep recording. I can guaran-fucking-tee you that shit out there is bad news.

Shifting Perspective

[graveyounglady]

[That is a horrible plan, as far as Mercy is concerned. The young woman has been issued some more modern clothes at this point, but she's still wearing a cloth over her head, a sign of her status as a novitiate with the Sisters of Spring Tide. She keeps her voice at a fierce whisper.]

Don't go stabbing no one! They're already hurt. Look at them. They ain't fit to go after nobody. I'll go over and bandage them up, and we can get them back to ADI for some proper treatment.

Yuri Egin | Blue Exorcist

[deadanimemom]

arrival cw: pregnancy-related injuries, impending character death
[Yuri stumbles in the snow, her vision blurring. She hits the ground, blacking out for a moment before forcing herself upward, her hands on-- tile. It takes her a moment, on hands and knees on the tile floor of a bathroom, to realize she isn't in shin-deep snow.]

Shiro? [She asks, looking around for him and seeing... a stranger. A stranger, instead of Shiro. Where is he? Where are her sons?]

Who are you? Where-- are we?

[The woman kneeling on the floor of the bathroom is small, not just short but thin, worn out and pale with the look of someone who's been ill for a while. She's dressed in a random collection of clothes too big for her, bundled up against winter cold. Her long hair is a tangled mess of curls loose down her back, her eyes are wide and startled, and the scent of blood hangs heavy in the air around her.]

sticks and stones
[She's alive, after everything, and a week in the hospital sees Yuri up on her feet again, needing to do something.

A hike probably isn't the best decision, she's still weak and gets exhausted easily, but she's never been one to make good decisions, so she's here, walking with a stranger and looking for demons.]

At least they gave us a map! [She says, with a bright smile.] Have you ever done this kind of thing before?

i will survive
[Yuri's more than experienced with this kind of thing. After a quick assessment, they have her training others. It's a good fit, she's been a teacher for years now and she has a friendly smile, a patient manner, and enough survival training to help. She's mostly on first aid, but pops over to help with firemaking or shelter building when there's a lull.]

Oh, you're doing a good job! Let me know if you need any help.

[Of course, if you're doing a terrible job, she's just going to watch for a moment before offering a gentle suggestion to help redirect any nonsense.]

i will survive

[graveyounglady]

[The young woman she addresses is puzzling a little over the labels of different bottles and medications after having expertly stitched up a 'wounded' banana with a hooked needle. She looks up at the praise and smiles brightly. She hasn't got anything like that since leaving Evergreen.]

Thanks! They got real fancy tools and things here. Stuff I ain't seen the like of back home. And these tonics and salves and pills, coming all packages up like this. You know any good spots to collect herbs in these parts for making them?

sayori ♥ doki doki literature club! (spoilers for OG, but not DDLC+)

[hxppythxughts]

1) ARRIVAL ♥ HELP ME OUT OF BED!

[It happens ridiculously fast. One moment, Sayori is experiencing the inscrutable pain of deletion, something she knew and expected but which is nonetheless miserable and terrifying. One moment, someone at ADI headquarters is opening a drawer of their desk to retrieve some supply or another, simply trying to get through their work day.

The next, the drawer is falling out of the desk with a loud CLANG accompanied by a girlish yelp of pain and a shout of alarm from the employee.]

Ow ow ow...!

[And there's Sayori, spilled out of the drawer with a coral Switch Lite in her hands and currently crumpled on the floor, contemplating where the sharp edges of the metal drawer caught her on the way out. The next sound out of her is a nonverbal whine as she rolls over onto her back, still clutching the handheld to her chest and squeezing her eyes shut like this is the worst pain she's ever experienced.

It's not, of course. In fact, it's more disorienting for not being the worst pain she's ever experienced. A wobbly laugh escapes her before she even comes to grips with existing somewhere again, the easy reflex of a deeply-ingrained coping mechanism.] Ahaha...! Wow, I'm still as clumsy as ever, huh?

2) STICKS & STONES ♥ IT'S A SECRET.

[Sayori certainly doesn't seem like the type who's observant enough for fieldwork like this, judging by her spacey expression and her easily-distracted disposition as the willing new arrivals make their way out to the trail. She's eager to point out plants and bugs that she's never seen before (which are many, considering where she came from) and wants to stop to look at stuff fairly often, excited even by the trivial things.

Outwardly, her reaction to the rocks isn't that different from everything else she's been seeing. At first, she assumes this is just what they're supposed to say; it's only once she's seen a few that she realizes how targeted they are. Weak. Selfish. Liar. You killed them. You gave up.

You're not even real.

An easygoing laugh, which serves to mask and shake out some of the tension that gathers suddenly in her shoulders as she reads what's carved into the rock. Nothing compels her to ask. She just puts it out there, easy as anything:] Geez, these rocks are super mean, huh?

[It's both a rhetorical question and not. Her grin is good-humored, her gaze focused on her companion, but she's watching them much more closely than it seems for any indication that they suspect these things are about her. Despite herself, her stomach has tied itself in knots; still, she smiles, like she always does.]

3) I WILL SURVIVE ♥ COME OUT AND PLAY?

A - [The training area is overwhelming for Sayori, who would just be a normal high school girl if not for the obvious. With as lost as she looks, she's quickly ushered over to the combat area just for something to do. Always open to trying new things, Sayori makes an effort to muster some excitement as she regards the weapons, but...the idea of having to use them for real makes her really uncomfortable. Even though she pulled the trigger on her own universe — on her own friends — deleting files is a far cry from holding a physical weapon in your hands.

She laughs nervously, turning to the nearest person — be they instructor, student, or bystander.] I dunno... I don't want to hurt anyone. You wanna go check out the camping stuff instead?

[Encourage her to try the combat lessons, or join her on her quest not to beat people up? It's up to you!]


B - [Or perhaps you find her after she inevitably finds her way to a less daunting station: building a shelter. While this is something she clearly has no experience with (judging by the way she's absorbing info and techniques from the experts around her,) her eyes sparkle with excitement as she experiments with various ways to construct sturdy bindings for the materials provided. Her fingers bear some scrapes and nicks from her clumsiness, but all the same, their movements are confident.

As she sits back on her heels and admires her handiwork, she declares:] This is so fun! It's like an art project!

4) WILDCARD ♥ BUT I TRUST YOU TOO.

[Got another idea? Go for it! Or feel free to hit me up at ceesawaseesaw if you'd like to hash something out first. Sayori is very curious and adventurous, and can be encountered pretty much anywhere, especially in the various training areas trying to learn new stuff!]

I Will Survive (B)

[graveyounglady]

[Mercy lifts a brow and smirks. She's a young woman in a plain brown dress with green sleeves and black stockings. Atop her dark hair, she wears white cloth to signify her status as a novitiate.]

Sturdier than an art project if you don't want leaking or blowing over in a stiff wind. You done much traveling out in the forest and yon?

Kieran Trevarde | The God Eaters

[felttheburn]

arrival

[ Kieran comes to in the canteen, first struck by the fact that the floor he's lying on is even harder than the desert ground he went to sleep on. And there's no one pressed against him; as far as he can feel, he's alone. His eyes snap open and he sits up to look around, his eyes sharp and almost feral. ]

Where the-- Ash? Ashes!

[ The room has several oddities in it, strange objects on the counter and a large box that he doesn't recognize beside it, clues that Kieran has found himself somewhere unfamiliar. Not just out of place, but out of time, if he were thinking that far ahead. But he isn't. He has one thing on his mind and it's that if he's been brought here, Ash must have as well. Right?

There's someone on the other side of the table, and he pushes himself to his feet and stomps over. He takes his gun out of his waistband to point it at them, nudging them roughly with his foot. ]

Hey. Wake the fuck up.

[ He sounds like he means business... ]

sticks and stones

[ So this is some bullshit. Go out and look for ~signs~ but don't use powers, something Kieran scoffed at. He still has them, he can feel them, and has no qualms about terrorizing strangers to be able to use them. Half of what he can do is deadly anyway, terror comes with the territory. But for now he'll play along. Bide his time and gather information, until he can rip a hole in this world and get back where he belongs. Or find Ashes. That's the goal.

Whoever's paired with him to go to the park will be hard-pressed to keep up with him, his stride at 6'6" and quick pace leaving shorter or slower individuals scrambling. He walks with a frustrated, restless energy, phone in his pocket and the camera they've been given clenched in one hand. Marvels of technology to be sure, but ones that Kieran doesn't dare show his appreciation of lest people think he's impressed by them. See how unimpressed by all of this he is? Fucking bullshit.

Still, his eyes scan the landscape, looking for anything out of place. Anything suspicious. He probably wouldn't have given the carved rock a second glance if it hadn't used his name -- the name he doesn't let anyone but Ash use.

YOU'RE A MURDERER, KAI

No shit, rock, but how the fuck do you know? He stops about ten paces away, squinting at it angrily.

His hunting partner can catch up now, at least. ]

i will survive

[ Continuing the bullshit, Kieran doesn't need any of this training. He can fight and kill just fine -- hell, he did it professionally. He can keep himself alive in the wilderness, and where he comes from there's no such thing as a phone. Everyone here is soft if they need this, honestly. But when he says as much he finds himself made an instructor on the survival side of the gym, and that's worse than going through the motions and pretending to learn. He's going to have to watch his mouth from here on out.

Students will find him shredding branches for tinder just to have something to do with his hands while he waits, tense and angry. He speaks to whoever approaches without looking up. ]

Lesson one: fire. Try not to burn the whole place down, but if you do I won't be busted up about it.

shifting perspective

[ Bring back 'evidence' they said. '$300' they said. But what would they pay for the corpse of this thing, Kieran wonders, as he dodges its attacks. He moves like a whirlwind, dancing back from its swipes until one slashes across his arm. He just laughs and kicks it back with a boot firmly to the chest. ]

Now you've done it.

[ Companions can feel free to help, simply watch, or be an easier target for the creature and require rescue! Kieran is aiming to kill the thing. ]

wildcard

(( ooc: i'm down for anything! but be warned that kieran is a prickly bastard. ))

i will survive

[mislay]

[ Larus, despite whatever anyone might think about him at first glance, isn't looking for a lesson. Or a handout. In fact, he's a little underwhelmed by the comment, used to the prickle of Jericho's bitter resolve and having no use for anyone else that's as equally barbed or tense. Not in this place. Not when everyone around them feels the stress of it, and it really doesn't smell all that great on people who can't keep it under control. And it's a good thing Kieran isn't looking in his direction because he's rolling his eyes kind of hard. ]

Lesson two: it's really not good for much else. It might be an improvement if someone set everything on fire though. [ His humor is flat at best. ] Do you want help with that?

[ Because he isn't the only one who needs to occupy his hands. ]

pleasant bell ( original )

[hollered]

( arrival )
cw: implied past child abuse.

[ arrival had.. not been pleasant for bell. he doesn't remember much about it, just panic and flashes of light and faces, his shrieking terror at being forcibly grabbed and taken along to-- to somewhere. even over his sleeves, the contact had been horrid, the knowledge of what he's capable of overlaid atop memories of too many hands on him too many times. he'd been helpless then to fight, and he'd been helpless here, especially without beau here to defend him.

they'd been gentler once they realized how frightened he was, and he'd been able to retain a little more of their explanations, but.. not much. he'd only really begun to calm after being left in an apartment that's bigger and nicer than anywhere he's stayed in before. he's alone and still terrified, but the panic is no longer so close to the surface with no one here to touch him or hurt him. he'd wound up curled on the couch, tucked into the smallest ball he can make himself in the corner, trying to think of what he should do and how.

when the door opens, then, he has to muffle a startled little yelp into his gloved hands, wide eyes peering up over the back of the couch at the apparent intruder. are they coming back for him..? ]

( i will survive )

I c-- I can't.

[ bell--small and covered up pretty much head to toe--has edged his way as far from the weapons as possible, and seems to be debating running for the door. his expression is caught somewhere between dread and fear, which seems to be his default appearance, and he has his gloved hands tucked into his armpits, posture completely closed off. he is staring very studiously at the shoes of whoever he's been partnered with. ]

I can't.. [ his jaw works, clearly struggling to get the words out, voice very soft and a little scratchy from disuse. ] .. touch people. That's all t-too.. much. [ bare-handed, or with weapons that require close contact.. and anyway, he's not a fighter, which is pretty apparent. ] Can we try.. somethin' else? [ he unfolds enough to point toward the survival area. ] I'm good with stuff like that. Livin' off the land an' the like.

( network | un: bell )

anybody seen a real big dog kind of thing? he's about 6 foot from toes to top of his ears. his name's Beau.

network | un: galliard

[bigporkenergy]

[Okay, Galliard is slowly figuring out this network thing. The mention of a huge dog catches his attention. It sounds suspiciously like a titan? Maybe?]

uh, no

you have a dog that big?

[Or are YOU the dog? Galliard is on the case!]

Neuro | Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro

[enigme]

⍩ ARRIVAL.
Cramped spaces are far from a challenge for someone as in control of their body as a demon. Wiggling his way through the ducts was an easy task and it takes hardly any time at all for him to find his way to one of the many metal gratings that prevent him from entering a room. For a moment he lingers and watches the person walking below... not because he finds them as a threat, but because he's curious to how they're adjusting to just abruptly ending up somewhere so suddenly.

After a moment he flexes his gloved hand and his fingertip stretches and changes in shape and size until it can not only fit through the thin slits of the metal, but also quickly loosen the screws holding the vent cover in place.

When the cover falls to the floor it's only natural that there is a loud clang, but what may be more shocking to whoever is wandering the room or hall is the large, blue-suit, cobweb wearing man crawling his way out of the too-small vent and crawling toward the ceiling like a monster in some horror movie. "You there... Are you a native?"

⍩ STICKS AND STONES.

Now this was the sort of thing that Neuro liked. The money was a trivial thing that only human beings cared about, but in a way these rocks were mini-mysteries of their own. Low calories in worth yet any meal at the moment was worth his time.

At first, he blatantly ignores whatever companion was unfortunately shoved with him. His eyes focused on taking in his surroundings as his gloved hand taps on his chin. Though it doesn't take particularly long for him to kneel down at one of the particular boulders that they're looking for in the first place.

'You abandoned Hell for your own selfish desires.'

Neuro doesn't look particularly impressed, but he's still smiling his eerie smile all the same as he tilts his head toward his shiny new meal ticket, scapegoat, unfortunate soul companion. "Does it say anything different for you?" Because magically changing scrawled writing depending on who is looking at it certainly seems more interesting than just having his own laundry aired out.

⍩ SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE.

Finally something interesting. With only a small snag of requiring a 'tagalong', Neuro could hardly resist the lure of the message encouraging him to go to the beach. Rather than ask around and play nice as he had earlier on during his stay, the demon decides that a more direct approach would be perfect.

Enter the first poor soul he lays his eyes on getting a rather large gloved hand gripping at their head, nostrils, or shoulders---whichever he can get his gloved hand on first--abruptly and charmingly being pulled down toward the beach. All the while wiping the back of his opposite hand against his nearly drooling lip. "$300 is a lot of money, isn't it? We should be sure to look thoroughly!"

sticks and stones.

[thiccest]

Both Chris' brows lift. "Different?"

He hadn't been particularly bothered by the fact that his apparent partner wasn't keen on talking. He's dealt with worse, and while he's no expert on the "paranormal"-- every strange occurrence in his life has always been explainable with science-- recon's recon, no matter the nature of what you're looking for.

It's hard not to want to snap a photo of the guy he's with, though, now that he's looking at that questionable little smile. Talk about the heebie-jeebies.

Still, he's nothing if not willing to cooperate. "Uh..." So Chris looks down at the boulder in question now, flicking the flashlight to his phone on to illuminate the words on it: DEPRESSION DOESN'T MAKE IT OK FOR A MAN IN HIS FORTIES TO HOG THE SWINGS, CHRIS.

And, furrowing his brows, he says, "I don't know. What did it used to say?"

Kate Cordello - Original

[bossyboiler]

Leave No Stone Unturned (Sticks & Stones)

Coward.

Coward is what the first rock said. The message was so completely different from the others. It wasn't motivational. It didn't offer good advice. It simple had the word coward carved into its surface.

"Do you think we'll actually find anything?" Kate asks her paranormal-hunting companion. She has decided to ignore that rock. It probably has nothing to do with her. This entire place was weird.

You are a coward.

Kate stops walking. She takes out her camera and focuses on the rock. She would have taken a picture except what she sees in the lens view is not what she sees with her eyes. She takes a picture to be certain that her camera actually works. When it turns out that the camera is working, she feels a new sense of uneasiness quiver down her spin. "That's odd. Are you seeing anything weird written on the rocks?"

Perhaps her traveling companion wasn't seeing anything odd. Maybe it was just Kate's own eyes that were the problem. Maybe she is loosing her mind? Or maybe the stones were telepathic, sentient and set on messing with her? It is hard to say.

Kate fans out from her partner. She doesn't completely leave the sight of the trail. The rocks don't stop leaving funny messages for her.

Kate is a coward!

She involuntarily shudders at the cold chill that had just ran down her spine. She lets out a deep breath. Kate thinks that she cannot be imagining it. At first, she could pretend but not now! This inscription is pointedly directed at her. She takes a picture of the message but just as with the last one, there's nothing about her being a coward. It's just the rock.

"Hey! Can you come here and tell me what this stone says?"

She's not sure which would provide her with more relief, that it's her mind playing tricks on her or that the stones knew what she had done.

WHAT IN BURNINATION?!? (I will Survive)

Once, Kate had been shown how to start a fire using a battery and foil. She remembers the concept. She figures that it can't be hard.

Kate starts by unscrewing the bottom of a flashlight and removing the battery. She then cut a narrow strip of foil. Using her bare hands, she folds the length of foil to connect at first the positive end and then the negative end. Nothing happens!

Using her free hand, Kate lightly taps the middle part of the foil. It feels warm but not hot enough to combust. It's trial and error. Kate cuts down the length of the foil but when it's still doesn't combust, she works on the width next. She whittles it down until the middle is very thin and then tries again.

"It works!"

Congratulations Kate! You have done what your ancestors before you have done with less. You have created fire! Fire that burns especially if you don't pay attention to it. She had indeed created fire but so pleased with her success that she hadn't paid attention to getting it put out safely. The fire jumped to the cuff of her sleeve

Kate shrieks "Ow. Ow ow ow ow!" The battery goes clattering to the floor as Kate frantically smacks down at the little flame on her shirt. But in trying to put that fire out, she ends up hurting her other hand.

Help?

Will glass coffins ever take off? Remains to be seen. (Sticks & Stones)

Night has fallen, the sun has set. The bugs and other nocturnal creatures are out. They make their presence known with every chirp, squawk and ribbit. Fireflies light up and down the coast. It might have been a charming even had things not been about to get very real.

"Let's have a look in the evening, they said. Maybe it's nocturnal, they said. It's probably nothing." Kate is being sarcastic and doesn't believe that it's nothing. Who sends out two people at night to look for something weird when there isn't something going on. Perhaps they would get lucky and it would be a prank but Kate doubted that. The location of where they are at says it all, Coffin Beach.

Kate has not one but two flashlights. She has a headlamp attached to a hat on her head is not turned on yet as to prevent bugs from being attracted to it. Then, Kate has the more traditional flashlight that could double as a baton if needed. She stops walking before her feet hit the sand and shines a beam out over the surf and sand. "See anything yet?"


-------------
Info. Will match action or prose! Hit me up at kindaklutzy or send me a PM if there's something else you have in mind or have a question.

Leave No Stone Unturned

[gaijinsleeve]

Coward was not what the first rock said to him but he's spent so much time around batshit crazy, immortal 0.001%ers that this is so far down the list of the weirdest things that's happened to him. Honestly, he didn't care for the pocket money, he just has questions he wants answered. He would have waved his gun around if he thinks it'll get him anywhere. Instead he's decided to go along with this until he's lost his patience being fucked with. Maybe a hundred bucks of local currency since this must be the only shithole in the galaxy that doesn't take UN credits is enough of a carrot when his fuckoff stick doesn't work.

"Yeah. Someone with too much time and money carved a bunch of childish insults into a cluster of rocks." Tak's perpetually irritated voice makes it sound like it pains him to point out the obvious. He's got seven and a half inches on her and that's the least intimidating characteristic he's got going for him. Suffice to say, he has no idea why she's taking pictures of said rocks.

Or why she is making him read that particular rock out.

"You can't read it yourself?" Tak asks, defensiveness wrapped up in a ice cold exterior. Clearly the taciturn blond charges extra for being friendly, although he seems to never stray too far from her side.

"It says I killed everyone." It's not exactly what the rock says, so his tailor made remark doesn't appear, but it's close enough.

Junior | R.O.D. the TV

[littlegentleman]

ARRIVAL

[A plain, clean, nondescript office lobby is something that Junior is acutely familiar with, spending so much of his time in the British Library and its various associations. Arriving in new and unfamiliar places doesn't bother him, though finding himself there, suddenly with no prior knowledge of a new assignment has him a little on edge. That's never happened to him before.

And what's worse: he isn't alone. Instinctively, the quiet boy reaches behind him, fingers coiling around the handle of the gun he has tucked underneath his jacket. Although he doesn't speak, the way he stares at his fellow hostage speaks volumes of his suspicion as he tries to assess whether or not his companion is a threat.

And if he can easily eliminate them.]

I WILL SURVIVE

a. [The wisest course of action for Junior would likely be to lay low and lean into the whole "innocent youngster" vibe his appearance gives off. Unfortunately, while he's been inundated with a wealth of valuable information in regards to survival, proper and rational types of behavior has hardly been one of his areas of study. He gravitates toward the available guns, but when he's very quickly shooed away from them, Junior, instead, finds his way to the table of other weapons.

Using his fists isn't an option, unless he's with a target as small of stature as he is. Generally speaking, he always tries to maintain a stealthy standpoint in battle, but when push comes to shove, he's willing to take a direct offense. So, he picks up a knife, weighing it in his hand before giving it an experimental sort of slash.

Looking at him in concern, judging? Junior stares back, before almost shyly asking:]

Would you like to spar with me?

[You know, the soft-spoken child.]

b. [That being said, Junior eventually does find himself over in the more tame area of the gym where more general aspects of survival can be tested. If you're struggling with tying a knot, he may come over and quietly (very, very quietly) try and provide his assistance. Or, if you're cooking, you may find him hovering over your shoulder like a silent specter. It isn't that he's never cooked a meal, before, but generally speaking...]

I read a cookbook, once.

[Just offering some helpful insight into where his general level of experience is in his field.]

SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE

[Being sent on dangerous missions that could result in a swift and painful death is certainly more up Junior's speed. He offers no complaints about the task, almost eager to head out into the field to investigate the happenings at Coffin Beach. It helps him retain a sense of normalcy. That is, until he catches sight of the thing at the beach.

Immediately, he reaches out to take his partner's arm in warning, shaking his head silently. Don't. Generally speaking, he's always the monster in the room. He's never seen a different one. It inspires an urgent sense of caution in him, and once again he's reaching for his weapon. It would be easy to shake him off, of course, being that he's not particularly sturdy in stature, and ultimately it'll just give him a free hand to use in handling his gun.]

WILDCARD

[If you have any other ideas, go ahead and hit me with something different! Otherwise, I can be reached through PM or at ddsapphire for plotting!]

arrival

[thiccest]

[ At this point in his life Chris knows better than to underestimate anyone. For all that he remains seated on the floor, one knee pulled up and his arm folded atop it (his head's still spinning, and if he gets to his feet he might throw up), his eyes are as insightful as ever, and they don't miss the way the young man reaches behind him.

A weapon, probably. Chris has his own on him, hidden beneath the long, black coat he wears, but doesn't bother trying to reach for them.

As much as he hates not knowing what's happened or how he got here, more important is getting his wits about him, and that isn't going to happen if he gets into a fight from the get-go with someone who looks like they'd shoot if he made one wrong move.

So Chris slowly leans back, his head thumping against the wall behind him. Both his hands raise, palms up in surrender, but so does a single eyebrow. ]

Do you speak English? [ ...huh. He'd hoped his voice would sound steadier than that, but holy shit this dizziness is killing him. ]

Bucky Barnes | MCU

[freakymagoo]

Arrival
There has never been a time when Bucky has woken up in a men’s toilet that he doesn't recognise, disoriented and groggy, and it's been because all his nonexistent friends have decided to throw him a surprise 106th birthday party and he got drunk and/or followed a pair of pretty eyes out back. Funnily enough, there haven’t been any diamond jubilee Winter Soldier open bar commemorations in his lifetime either. Wonder why.

"No." His voice barely a raspy whisper rumbles waveringly across the offwhite tiles. No, it’s always been this unrepentantly rude fuck you kind of awakening. The kind of thing that always spelt trouble. No. This was not supposed to happen anymore. Not ever again. He struggles to get to his feet in his momentary panic, ending up on his hands and knees for a few seconds before he can push himself upright, his half-second flailing nearly taking out the adjacent urinal in the process.

His eyes scan for the doors and the windows before he proceeds to check himself, pats himself down like he's looking for his keys. Limbs intact. Civilian clothes. No rips. No gloves, so his mismatching hands at least is exposed. No blood at least. He's got his knife, but no gun. Nobody screaming. No orders. He even checks his ears. Or any strange scars on the back of his neck. Anywhere anything might be implanted. But, save for Bucky having his Little Moment, a vibranium-plated pebble plonked inelegantly into a pond kicking off unsightly ripples and waves, the men’s is hauntingly still.

The little voice inside his head is too preoccupied with screaming that he takes a little longer than necessary to calm himself down, unable to keep the tightness in his chest, the shallow and fast breathing, the racing heartbeat completely at bay.

But the Little Moment comes. And it passes. Then comes the clarity with which he can address the other person in the loo, who probably thinks they chose the wrong time to heed nature’s call and start unzipping. Now they’re stuck with a madman glaring at them. They wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

“Where are we? What year is it?”


Sticks and Stones
Bucky is unfortunately probably one of the least communicative people to ever be paired up with, and the recent abrupt change in scenery has done little to alleviate all those glaring symptoms of his severe allergy to amicable sociability. It’s not sulking if it’s simply an aversion to having a sunny disposition or endless optimism about anything he’s managed to figure out thus far about this place.

On their way to the park he seems to be oscillating between being hyper aware of his unfamiliar surroundings and being lost in his own quagmire of disparate thoughts. Every little noise has his head snapping up like a trapped, wary animal, turning to glance over his shoulder, anticipating having to protect his partner and put up a fist fight against the first sign of ‘paranormal activity’. He’s not even sure what the hell they’re looking for but he doubts he’d be lucky to get away unscathed with a mere photo or recording of an angry swarm of cunning wizard bees to win some hundred dollar photography competition he never signed up for.

Well. He’s done worse things for a hundred bucks. This is... being a ghost or monster hitman for hire or whatever they were sent out to accomplish on this stroll in the park is miles better than being a hitman for Hydra.

“I’m not sure what we’re looking for,” is the first thing Bucky says in what feels like hours. Wearing a dark military style jacket, navy jeans and keeping his hands buried in his pockets, head down and voice low with an unnatural tension in his jaw, he’s simultaneously on edge whilst unconsciously trying not to draw too much attention. It’s proving to be difficult to do both.

sticks & stones

[hollered]

Bell probably hasn't helped matters. He's small and even more covered up than Bucky, and keeps fiddling with his sleeves, fussing them further down over his already-gloved hands. He's also keeping a wide berth around the other man, nervous eyes never straying far from him. He really doesn't know why he's here doing this, only.. he's used to picking up odd jobs here and there, and a hundred dollars for a photograph had seemed too good to pass up. It was only after he'd accepted that he'd realized he'd have a partner for this thing. He's.. not used to being around people for more than a few minutes at a time, and tries to avoid even that much as often as possible. His only consistent company for the last ten years has been Beau.. and Beau can't exactly talk to him anymore.

So far, the whole exercise hasn't been.. terrible? The stranger doesn't seem to mind that Bell hasn't so much as said a word to him since they set out, and hasn't tried to engage him, and if his glare and his size are a little scary, well.. he hasn't tried to touch or hurt Bell, so he can deal with it. It's why the sudden voice startles him, making him jump and skitter a little further away in surprise.

.. Oh. "I.. ain't real sure," he manages after a few false starts, heavily accented and a little faint. "Everything weirdy-like I know's awful, but it ain't-- ain't the kinda' thing you can take pictures of." And they wouldn't send them to take photos of something that could kill them, would they?

helena adams | identity v | ota.

[decrypter]

arrival.

[for being transported to another world, the young woman is quiet, hand clasped to her cane as the announcement is being made over the speaker. the strange text would be something to contemplate - somehow, though it sits ill at ease, it makes the most sense out of everything here. creeping dread and things beyond mortal ken, and so many unknowns...that at least has not changed. when those calling themselves ADI finish speaking, she shifts slightly in her chair, knowing there's another person nearby who's had to listen to the same.]

What do you make of all of this? Everything they're saying to us.

[they're waiting on their answer to give, but it doesn't hurt to talk it over a little.]

survival.

[swimming lessons, actually, are something Helena wholeheartedly wants to throw herself into. calling this training, it feels better than standing and feeling awkward because her talents lie more with machines, with things she can listen to and feel rather than trying to learn to navigate with no guidelines, or trying to make a proper shelter when she's not very strong in terms of anchoring any supports. the water instead feels more natural, strongly chlorinated but easier to move around in. her arms are locked around a kickboard, and Helena's getting the knack of this.

eventually, one has to take breaks, and sitting on the side toweling off her hair, she hears someone sit down nearby, or slide into the pool. the smile in her voice can be heard when she speaks up.]

It's not so bad, isn't it?

adi - day-to-day.

[settling in, Helena's finding, is coming easier than she expected. mainly, she likes hovering around the research division, getting her hands on whatever books need poring over and finding joy in the scent and sound of pages. her fingers fly over type, and it's engrossing, though she does sometimes need to ask for help to get a book she's told is higher up.

but it's also fun to be poking around the equipment department as well. while building isn't entirely in her wheelhouse - that was always more for other friends - she asks questions, and those working there want to answer, letting her listen to the devices to discern what's going on with them. the subtlest signs, after all, can tell if something needs to be greased or if something's not fitting right, and her face lights up whenever something is particularly impressive.

it's a new kind of freedom - it still isn't entirely welcome, but it's not all bad here.]

[[ooc: happy to match format of tag ins! also open to any kind of wildcard scenario.]]

day to day. ( idk let me know if you need changes / assumed CR isn't OK )

[thiccest]

[ Chris has just put down another modified rifle, scowling slightly as he looks it over for any issues. He's no newbie to mods-- had done the same with his old equipment back home-- but the ADI's got its own protocols and measures of quality, and he hasn't exactly gotten all of those down yet. In fact, he squints at the manual open on the table by where he's working, his head pulled back slightly as he does so in typical "man who needs reading glasses" function.

He only lifts his head when footsteps come to his attention, blinking twice to clear the haze in his eyes that always comes with reading. Helena's a welcome sight-- she's been around a couple of times, and they'd tuned up a couple of communications devices together the last time she visited-- and he lifts his hand slightly in greeting. ]

Here again, huh? [ His smile is small, but nevertheless meant. ] Don't tell me Research was boring today.

martin blackwood | the magnus archives

[lowficharm]

i. ARRIVAL

[It's kind of hard to say what Martin actually expected to see when he finally opens his eyes. One moment it's blood and some crying and the significant roar of a building collapse, and the next... quiet. It's the kind of silence he's used to, but also one that makes him stop before he moves to hold on to the moment a little bit longer. Just a bit where everything's quiet. Just a bit.

But there's really not time to be ruminating on that, and instead he opens his eyes, tries to extend his limbs, and finds that is not quite happening. Martin has never been the smallest person, meaning an already-cramped closet is the perfect recipe to be very, very stuck. Unfortunately, that means he's now about to become the new spook of the week, because all he can do is wiggle around and yell to produce some odd shuffling in the hall and a muffled voice.]

Hey, uhm-- hello?? If anyone can hear me, I'm-- uh, pretty sure that's--

[Good news! He found the handle. Bad news! He's now fallen out into the hall presumably very close to wherever you are in a heap of limbs and jackets. Looks like he's just beginning to recover himself, moving his hands to his face to right his glasses and try to get a proper look at what's happening.]

For crissake, what kind of a bad joke...

ii. STICKS & STONES

[Well, this sort of thing isn't as new as it could be. Admittedly, it's been a while since he went out and did any field investigation once things got... a little too real, but there's some comfort in the predictable. It's not great considering the everything, but it's at least predictable.

The real trouble is that his meter for what's considered a weird thing is wildly off after spending a number of months in the literal apocalypse, so at first seeing rocks with words on them doesn't even register as something odd. Why wouldn't he be seeing stones that say your great fears on them or are accusing you of dooming a world? That's pretty standard!

At least he's still pretty good at small talk. Or as pretty good as he's ever been.]

So, uhm... first time out doing a, uh, a survey? I mean, uh-- me, me too, just curious.

iii. I WILL SURVIVE

[He probably could have used this sort of training while he was at the Archives, but despite being someone who has stabbed a nonzero amount of people, it still feels a bit odd to be standing in the middle of some sort of training facility. Feels very military for his purposes, and well, it's not as if he has much faith at this point in the military or police to be handling paranormal issues. That said, he is observant enough to know that if he doesn't look like he's doing something he will immediately be bothered, and he's really just like to... not, right now! Just not anything, thank you, he'd like to opt out.

Which is why he's made his way over to the outdoor cooking station and is looking like he's working on something very intently, but in reality he's... mostly just boiling water. If he's going to keep out of the way, he might as well have a cuppa.]

iii. I WILL SURVIVE

[crescentmoonheir]

[Claude has found himself more than a bit busy with helping people out. Teaching knife fighting, wilderness survival, butchery, the whole nine yards. The disciplined, military atmosphere suits him. It reminds him of the Officer's Academy.

But beyond that, it's been an excellent opportunity to people watch. See who's confident, who's nervous. Who's really trying and... who's just boiling water.

Claude approaches Martin, smoothly, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.]

Hey. Seems like you're having a bit of trouble there.

AELWYN ABERNANT | DIMENSION 20

[aelwyn_aberration]

I. Arrival

[Aelwyn wakes up, bleary eyed, in what appears to be an empty storage cupboard. She doesn't immediately wake up, so much as sigh in irritation and defeat. Great. Holes in her mind again. Or she just got really, really fucked up last night but...

No, not near her parents. Is this the Forest of the Nightmare King... did the ritual go wrong? It looks suspiciously like a storeroom, so that'd be very shocking if so... Well, it's fine, regardless. She'll get up whenever Kalina talks to her, or she notices someone's nearby.

Oh. Someone's here.]

...Mm? Kalina...?

[That sure isn't Kalina. Hello stranger.]

II. Sticks and Stones

[Aelwyn, begrudgingly, agrees to help out with their little field tests. It's not like she can do anything else with her time here, and the whole world destroying nightmare gods is cool enough, even if she could give two shits about this world as is.

Once she's alone with just her partner, she'll turn and look at them, measuring them through sharp blue eyes, before smiling a somewhat sassy smirk.]

Well, if you're supposed to keep me from dying here, I'd say introductions are in order. Aelwyn Abernant, in the flesh. You?

III. I Will Survive

[Aelwyn can be found holding two sticks and staring at an empty firepit, looking very bored and very frustrated. The sticks look pretty worn down, as if she was trying in the past, and simply gave up.]

This is humiliating....

[Then with an exasperated sigh, she'll go back to trying to catch a spark.]

II. Sticks and Stones

[crescentmoonheir]

[Claude knits his hands behind his head, and fixes Aelwyn with a smirk as smug as her's is sassy.]

Claude von Riegan, the grandson of the grandson of the grandson of the elite Riegan.

[He winks.]

And there's really no need to worry about anything trying to kill us. Just run in the same direction I do.

crypto (apex legends)

[cracked]

1. arrival

[the small and empty space between existing and not existing at all finds its way once again into Crypto's heart as he's sucked through a portal in the midst of being hunted down by another legend, r-99 just one scope away from his head. he had just recalled Hack, his seemingly only friend and beloved drone, back into its resting place when he wound up unscrupulously thrown into the server room of a foreign building.

his eyes go wide to turn behind him, quickly turning his sniper rifle to the exit point- but there isn't one there. paranoia has, and will always, get the best of him. but there's more to it; the rustling sound of a second body that causes him to stir, turn, and point blank hold his gun out directly towards the face of whoever was unlucky enough to land here with him.

he raises an eyebrow, then, when the person in front of him isn't armed to the teeth and ready to unleash hell on him. what in the hell is going on?]

You're not-- no, never mind. Keep your back to the door and out of sight. [he's waiting for an enemy that's never going to come, but nonetheless, his aim is set on sight to the exact exit point where he had dropped.]

2. sticks and stones

[job's a job. if he's going to be stuck here for a little while, he's going to need some cash to get by. there's probably better ways of doing that around here too, but keeping a low profile is generally how he manages to get by.

he's trying not to roll his eyes at the idea of capturing paranormal activity. it seems childish, out of scope for a surveillance expert like Crypto, and frankly... he doesn't really think that they're going to find anything out here. but he knows better than to head out completely alone in the wilderness, as that's akin to signing your own death warrant, no matter how far he stays around the outskirts of battle with his drone. partner in tow, there's an outcropping leading towards higher elevation.]

Come, we can scout from over there.

[just in his periphery, though, are stones with truths written on them:

"Framed."
"Impostor."

he turns, then to his companion, a look of mistrust and defensiveness.]

Who are you, and what do you want?

3. shifting perspective

Joshimae--- Careful. This doesn't feel right.

[his hand overextends, stopping his partner from edging forward towards the stone-laden entranceway to the beach. he shakes his head, and points backward, to a safer, less interactive spot off in the distance.]

We aren't the only ones given this assignment. We should watch and see what happens.

[he reaches back towards his control device, activating his drone to scan the place from a safe distance to the back. better to let someone else find out first, rather than risk it himself.]

arrival

[henchgal]

[Not armed, but Meredith does have a cane in one hand. She does as instructed, looking completely confused and caught off-guard. She's a woman in business casual clothing; a pencil skirt, a polka-dot blouse and loafers.]

What's going on? Who are you?

Peter Osborne | The Exorcist

[onfire]

➥ Sticks and Stones

[ There's no better mission to place Peter on than an expedition into the forest. The "paranormal" tagline, though, is little more than an afterthought in his mind. Every national park or forest preserve is haunted if you ask enough locals, so he pays this warning no mind. It'll be an overly curious black bear no longer afraid of humans, maybe a few punks trying to start an urban legend, nothing more. ]

Ever do any tracking?

[ He's not banking on another forester, but it'll be good to know if he's got another pair of skilled eyes to help with this wild goose chase. ]

➥ I will Survive

[ Peter can be found all over the gymnasium. He's in his element here teaching survival skills—first-aid, trauma care, navigation, foraging, fire setting, hunting, tracking, all of it. You name it, this wildlife officer can teach it.

When it comes to the combat range, though, he sticks to firearms and archery. At 56, he is secure in his masculinity to admit that he can't keep up with the young'uns in close combat. Perhaps he could be persuade if you really want to whoop on an old man, like the soulless bastard you are; otherwise, let him teach you how to skin a fish properly or identify edible flora. ]

➥ Shifting Perspective

[ Their attempts at calling out to the body submerged in the shallow surf have done no good. Whatever these strange sightings might be, it's not going to do the injured person in the waves to wait. ]

I'll need your help with this, all right? [ Hopefully his teammate isn't the squeamish type. This won't be easy if he has to do this on his own. ] I'll stabilize the neck and head, we'll roll them over, and then carry them out. Can you handle that?

➥ Wildcard

[ Something else? Go for it! Need some ideas? Hit me up at slanndalous ]

sticks and stones

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[One look at Zhao was all the old man would need to know that the younger man had no experience in nature much less tracking. The look that Zhao gave enforced the idea, too, all raised eyebrow and cocked head with a load of sass heaped on. He drawled,]

What do you think? [He smirked.] Look, if you want me to track down a guy for you in the city, I've got ya covered. There's networks for that sort of thing, basic areas to cover, easy shit. But... nature ain't my thing. I've never even been to the forest before.

But if you want me to take down a tiger for ya... well... I've, uh, got some experience in that.

Zhao Tianyou | Yakuza / Ryu Ga Gotoku

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

I. Arrival

[Well, this was new. And awkward. Zhao stood frozen in the middle of the Canteen area--a cafeteria by any other name from the looks of it to the Chinese mafioso. While not entirely unfamiliar it wasn't exactly where he had been two seconds ago. Qing Jin would have made more sense. Hell, if he was drunk enough to be missing how he got here that wouldn't have surprised him in the least. He'd wandered into the restaurant more than once a little plastered and needing his bodyguards to escort him to the back areas out of sight to sober up.

But this was not the Qing Jin, and these people were not Liumang or other esteemed patrons. They were... he had no clue. A few of them ignored him entirely as if it were just another Tuesday. Some surreptitiously slunk off to the exits (and Zhao knew what that meant in the long run, he could recognize that sort of behavior in a heartbeat). Yet a few others approached him, cautiously. That's when Zhao realized he had his weapon in hand. Oh, yeah. He'd been with Kasuga-kun on a Part-Time Hero job. Well, this was even more awkward now.

It didn't help when the people started speaking English at him.]

Ah, shit. Happen to know any Japanese? Chinese?

[He sighed. This was going to be slow going. His English was...not the greatest. Why did he cut ties with Mabuchi again? Right, murderous bastard that betrayed and tortured him to try to take charge. Still, his language skills would have been nice right about now.]

Uh. Say again?

[Maybe more slowly this time for the guy trying to parse out the foreign language. Where the hell was he? This was going to be a long day. He looked around, glancing about to see if there was anyone else around as lost and confused as himself.]

II. I Will Survive

[Ohho~ Now this was one heck of a gym. Large and spacious, boasting several different training areas, and a load of various equipment. Zhao was immediately drawn towards the combat training areas first and foremost. He watched from the sidelines for a moment as an instructor went over some basics for new students, arms crossed over his chest and stance in a lopsided lean to one side. From the looks of him, he might have been a beginner himself if his baggy clothes and carefree attitude were anything to go by. He looked like he dressed stylishly--and expensively if that ton of jewelry was real (spoiler: it all was)--and tried to look like a punk straight out of a gangster movie. The joke was on anyone who made fun of him as he immediately smiled his cooked Cheshire Cat smile and freely admitted that he was, in fact, part of a gang back home. Or, had been, at any rate.

The instructor on hand didn't waste any time with formalities or sympathies. If Zhao didn't want to take this seriously then that was on his head. Of course, the instructor also wasn't expecting the Chinese man to actually show true form whenever it was his turn to spar with the helper that was testing newbies out. Zhao wiped the floor with him even after the helper shifted tactics and tried to up his game. Zhao simply laughed.]

That all you got?

[He was quickly escorted off the sparring mat and talked to privately, thus ruining his fun. However, after his discussion he did get the chance to show off more of his combat prowess by demonstrating his various kung fu styles as well as showing his aptitude for melee weapons. He explained his favorite was the Chinese saber but he also picked up a spear and twirled it around expertly for a while to show off, too. Anything they handed him Zhao seemed to either know how to handle already or picked up very quickly.

Eventually he moved on to firearms. He quickly demonstrated his knowledge of the working mechanisms of a gun to prevent anyone trying to lecture him on maintenance and general safety. He fired a couple of shots off to prove he could hit a target. Satisfied, he was assured he'd be allowed access to the weapons he'd arrived with so long as he followed the rules concerning them. Fine, he could play along.

The next part may have surprised anyone watching him. He moved to where there was actual cooking going on. Maybe he was just looking for a quick and easy bite to eat without actually leaving the gym to go find a meal? Yep, seemed that way.]

Do you mind?

[He asked someone holding a pan and took it from them while they wondered if they should or not. There was only basics to work with but that didn't stop the former Liumang leader from making something quite tasty. He offered a bite to someone looking curious--and before he knew it, he had a small gathering of people asking him to make them treats in between training. Funnily enough, he agreed and even seemed to enjoy the requests and praise.]

Anyone else want something before I move on?

III. Shifting Perspective

[Working at night didn't bother the former gangster. This was his haunting time. The beach really cramped his style but he made due. He would have laughed at the squeaking sand if anyone familiar had been around to make jokes with. As it was, he simply found a spot to set up and wait out the night.

He was surprised--and, admittedly, concerned--when the figure showed up on the beach. They looked awful and Zhao approached almost immediately. However, his instincts screamed at him to slow down as he neared the person and he knew to follow that gut reaction. Sometimes that was all that kept a person alive on the streets in the underworld. He called out cautiously.]

Hey. You all right? Can you move?

[No response. His concern grew. Was it the person that made him uneasy or the sight of the unidentifiable injuries? If someone, or something, did this to that person, was it still around? Was his instinct telling him to keep an eye out for whatever caused this in the first place? The idea had him on edge but after a moment of hesitation he moved forward cautiously anyway. This person needed help.

To say he was startled by the sudden lunge towards him as he got too close was an understatement.]

Shit! What the hell? [After an awkward backwards cat roll, Zhao stood up to stare at the creature before him.] What the fuck is that thing!?

[This shit wasn't real, was it? This was exactly the kind of crazy shit they warned people about back at ADI but the hell if Zhao had actually been prepared for it for real. He reached behind him as the thing approached for another attempt at turning him into a meal, going for his weapon.]

IV. Wildcard

[[Hit me with something else! All good.]]

shifting perspective. | gonna go w/ the monster having high HP LOL

[thiccest]

[ There's a reason recon's best done from a distance, and though the sound of someone yelling echoes throughout the beach, it doesn't ring nearly as loudly as the BANG! that comes with a bullet zipping through the air. It rips through the side of the creature's head, tearing a horrid screech from its throat, and though blood spatters the water, all the shot accomplishes is making the creature's head turn sharply in the direction it came from.

The barrel of a rifle peeks from behind tall grass on a raised incline in the vegetation by the beach, and though Chris swears under his breath, he reloads his sniper, puts his head back down, and fires again. The creature staggers, thrown back a few measures, but quickly gets up and turns its attention to the other man on the shore instead.

In the hopes said man on the beach is working for the ADI (and is thus connected to some radio channel or other), Chris taps at the transmitter in his ear. ]

See if you can fire into its mouth!

[ The monster, meanwhile, has begun crawling swiftly in the other man's direction with a great roar and bloodied teeth. ]

Caduceus Clay | Critical Role | OTA

[thatsreallygreat]

Arrival

There aren't a lot of things that throw Caduceus off balance, but sudden pitch dark and appearing in entirely unfamiliar surroundings is... getting close to it. For a long minute he just stands there, looking around the strange space as he recovers from whatever the hell just happened. His nose burns from the weird smells.

Something else filters through and he looks around for the source.

"Hey," he calls cautiously. "Anyone else in here?"

Okay he knows there is someone else in here, but it's probably more polite to ask rather than demand that they show themselves.

I Will Survive

This feels familiar. His parents taught him some of these skills, insisting they be practiced without magic. Survival skills were necessary, and no one could know what the circumstances might be.

After talking to someone running the training, he ends up being paired with someone who could learn from his expertise.

"Heard you might need some help with first aid," he says as he gets down on the floor. It's a long way down, but once he's there, he's comfortable. "Or we can work on fire or cooking or navigation... I'm pretty good with all of that."

And he's happy to help if he can.

Later in the day, Caduceus watches some of the fighting in the gym, but he doesn't move to join it. Maybe he should? He can handle himself if he needs to, but he's used to fighting from a distance when he can. Maybe it's time to remind himself of how close combat works. He's hard not to notice lingering on the sidelines, seven feet tall and lanky. He might need an invitation to participate. Or something more insistant.

Shifting Perspective

It's been a while since he's seen the sea. The sand is weird, though, that odd squeaking doesn't seem right. Soon enough, he abandons it altogether in favor of walking somewhere with more vegetation. He's still careful, using his staff to poke at the ground as he walks. He really doesn't want to discover any quicksand the hard way.

He tries to keep an eye on his partner, too, quietly warning them about unstable ground as they go.

As the sun disappears, he catches the sound of... crying? His ears flick and Caduceus picks his head up more, trying to pinpoint where the sound is coming from. He falls into old habits as he creeps along, having learned not to immediately trust something he can't identify. There's a person out there - is that blood? He tries to catch the scent.

Caduceus hangs back, torn between wanting to help someone in distress and not knowing what he's actually looking at. The dark growing dark isn't helping. He looks at his companion, then back out at the figure on the sand.

"They didn't say what the sightings were, did they?" he asks quietly, trying to keep his voice low. Something about all of this feels wrong.

Wildcard

[Happy to match style; if you want to throw something my way, go for it! Caduceus is pretty hard to miss and I'm open to playing with the other prompts.]

I will Survive

[henchgal]

Meredith is still getting used to the fact that some of the others here aren't human, but that fact's impossible to ignore with Caduceus. She's decent at not-staring, but her attention's still drawn to him from time to time.

Luckily, she's been given the perfect excuse to engage.

"I went to summer camp, but never really paid attention to much of the survival...stuff. Perhaps you can show me a little about making a campfire and cooking over it?"

Her smile is tight and polite and never quite makes the light behind her eyes go on. Everything about her is very precise, almost modulated.

Tomas Ortega | The Exorcist

[bravidiocy]

Sticks and Stones

[ The task seems simple enough in theory. Tomas is still not an expert in the supernatural but his eyes have gotten sharper when looking for signs of the unholy and unnatural. And, truthfully, he wants to see more of this place he's ended up in. Even the strange places, the ones written off in one way or another.

Honestly, in the afternoon sunlight it hardly seems like a place of unnatural things. Alongside his hiking partner, Tomas tries to keep up a pleasant stream of small talk. As the stones come into sight he slows his step and looks over. ]

Shall we see what the fuss is all about?


I Will Survive

[ Tomas has never been much of a physical fighter, that was never the life that had been planned out for him. He imagines it must be a sight, a man in the clothes of a priest carefully removing his collar and rolling up his sleeves as he waits for his turn with the instructor. ]


Shifting Perspectives

[ Curiosity about the email from the ADI led Tomas to find a companion and visit the strange little beach near dusk. He has seen horrors in his time as an exorcist and now he finds himself seeking them out to see what might be waiting. Arriving, he settles in to sit on a grassy dune with a decent view of the beach below, inviting his partner in this to join him as the sun sets and the stars begin to emerge from the dark.

If there's one thing his work with Marcus has taught him, it's the value of a stake out.

The sound still catches him by surprise. How did they miss the moment the figure washed ashore? Tomas rises, looking back and holding out a hand in caution. ]

Stay here, I want to get a closer look. [ Alright, so he knows the value of a stake out but he hasn't always been the best at waiting. ]


Wildcard

[ If none of these prompts appeal feel free to come up with something else, I'm down for just about anything! ]

Sticks and Stones

[sid_prescott]

[ If there's one thing she's glad about, it's that nobody in this place seems to know her reputation. The priest she's been paired with has been nothing but nice to her, even if she doesn't share his faith, and his relative calmness has been somewhat reassuring. She's still jittery, though, and she can only offer a weak smile as she holds up the camera around her neck. ]

Sure, better to just get this over with, I guess.

Sidney Prescott | Scream (1996) | OTA

[sid_prescott]

ARRIVAL

The last thing Sid remembers is the ambulance on the way to the hospital. The relief as adrenaline ebbed out of her system, making her aware of the injuries she'd suffered, the strain of her muscles from how hard she'd had to fight. But she'd won. She laughed to herself as the medics put her under, she'd won, she'd won and she'd never have to deal with that terror again.

Only to wake up in... a storage closet.
A number of things runs through her head, but first of all is that blaring instinct in her head that says 'girl you're in danger'. She trusts it this time, and sparing no time to feel sorry for herself, she starts feeling around in the dim light for the door, trying the knob (locked, as she expected and feared) and slamming both hands against it, screaming for help.

"ANYONE! HELP ME! PLEASE!"
She hasn't noticed the other person shoved into this little closet yet.

STICKS AND STONES

Sid got shoved out the door with some fancy futuristic looking digital camera, and told to go into a park to take pictures.
Yeah, that's probably the best way to get killed, even if the guy who handed the camera was glib about how much paperwork it'd be.
But it's not like she has much of a choice. So she gathers herself, giving the cold shoulder to whoever she's been paired up with, and goes out into the park.
It's the first rock that she encounters that breaks her composure a little, the words "YOU CONDEMNED AN INNOCENT MAN TO DIE" in bold font on the surface. Her hand goes to her mouth, and she freezes in place.

I WILL SURVIVE

A

She doesn't trust this place, or the people- anyone, the staff or the others- she doesn't like the weird government vibe, she doesn't like the fact it all seems to be built around some weird apocalyptic conspiracy theory. She's on edge, and jumpy, and probably not all that friendly to other newcomers. You can find her trying to argue with one of the staff that she's used a gun before, and therefore shouldn't have to prove she can wrestle or use a knife. The staff member she's talking to seems unconvinced.

B

If they want her to play by these rules, then fine, she'll do it. She doesn't have many applicable skills, her family were never the camping type, but she can throw a mean right hook, and punching a bag is making her feel a bit better.
Until her untrained form ends up hurting her hand, and she has to step back for a moment to shake it out.
"Crap-"
Someone with some first-aid knowledge might be useful right about now.

Arrival

[henchgal]

"Help us, you mean. How the hell did we get here, and who the fuck are you?" The voice comes from right beside Sid, the words enunciated sharply enough to cut, as Meredith realizes she's one of two girls in the closet right now.