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THE PATHLESS WOODS - PART 1

the pathless woods

PLOT DESCRIPTION
Far to the west, deep in the mountains, there is a forest where none may tread. Superimposed into the wilds, it has only grown wilder. But these once-quiet woods are peaceful no longer. A town built around an iron foundry is encroaching on the wilderness, enraging the spirits within.
Complicating matters: many refugees of the Go-Away war have been taken in by the town's residents, relieved to finally stop their wandering through post-apocalyptic wasteland. They have now made it their home, a place free from Jorgmund's de facto apocalyptic wage enslavement. Some have also been altered by Stuff and have no chance of refuge in the Livable Zone.
Meanwhile, Jorgmund is eyeballing the resources of the forest and wants the New Hires to exacerbate the conflict and convince the humans within to move within the Livable Zone ("for their own good, you see;") to allow for "resource acquisition." The New Hires must choose whether to stay in Jorgmund's good books, and if not, must decide whether to try to mediate the conflict, choose a side, or face the deep, dark dangers of the woods to find two lost people that some of the spirits believe can act as a bridge between two worlds.
All the while, they must fight off "demons," corrupted forest spirits changed by rage and hate. These demons can be influenced by the rage and hate of the New Hires as well.
SCENARIO

As they're driven to the drop off point, the tinted, reinforced windows of the transport vehicles gives them occasional glimpses of but it's not what they might have expected. Thought some areas are burned from fires that ran out of control, this wasteland isn't filled with scorched earth, just the skeletons of buildings slowly being retaken by the wild, trees growing through cracked concrete, vines swarming the outside of abandoned buildings unchecked. Some areas look like spherical chunks were suddenly carved out of reality, sometimes bisecting buildings. Water collects in these hollows in glittering pools that are ringed with moss and flowers.
The price paid for this life renewed was far too high, but the wilderness cares nothing about prices or unfair trades and retakes what once belonged to it faster than it might have in the past, due to the reality-warping influence of Stuff. There are no people in sight. The land is filled with bitter ghosts.
Soon that becomes literal. They start to reach areas that aren't much more scorched than the rest of the world, but there are still remnants of the war that have wandered away from battlefields, the way even the rural countryside might have some errant zombies after a zombie apocalypse. It starts with people in gas masks and military hazmat suits reaching for the convoy as it passes. The drivers blitz past them without stopping, long since used to hazards like this. People in the rear vehicles will see what happens after the first vehicle in the line ignores them - the gear collapses in on itself all of a sudden like no one is wearing it. In other areas driver-less tanks gather in herds like animals, scattering and driving away when the convoy gets close, as if skittish.
They are let out once the roads become too rugged for the vehicles, near the rocky hills they're meant to traverse. They're told the range of the rig's sensors, the outer limits they can go to before the collars claim their lives instantly. For this mission, the range had been extended to about 60 miles instead of the usual 50 because of how far out the settlement they're supposed to contact is from the rig.
The drivers are considerate enough to warn them about Stuff monsters in the countryside, telling them to be on their guard, and to be very careful of who - or what - they trust, because things that seem human often aren't.
Then they have to start a long march and don't run into much trouble until they get into a small valley in the hills in the late afternoon. A caravan of people driving oxen, laden with supplies, is trying to get them through a narrow gap mountain gap. The group is an unusually mixed group, some of the individuals look as if they've been changed by Stuff into something fantastic.
Some Stuff is in the air in this area, mostly solidified but still fluid enough to wreak some havoc. The group, fearing war or running from it, sometimes have their fears projected around them. Waves of unreality occasionally sweep through, briefly plunging everyone into murky strips of time that are shaped by the idea of war. Nothing gory but filled with the pale shadow of it - bullets zip through the air, there's chaotic yelling in fog that's suddenly appeared, the ground is rocked by explosions - but then each strip of unreality passes or can be escaped by simply charging a few steps forward.
What stays consistent in reality or in these strips of unreality is that the supply caravan is under attack and only armed with massive shoulder mounted flintlock rifles. The group will find they can speak to them, that they've suddenly been granted knowledge of a slightly archaic form of Japanese, the common language the mixed group speaks, just like some of the New Hires randomly learned English upon exposure to the rig for the first time.
If they can get the caravan to the mountain gap ahead, they'll leave the dangerous valley behind them.
Some of the threats the group must contend with that are there both inside and outside the weird strips of unreality:
a) demons
The corrupted forms of great beasts of the forest, these massive creatures have been changed to demons by their rage. They scuttle around the group extremely fast, the corruption forming spider-like legs, attacking aggressively, the squirming dark worms on their bodies killing any living vegetation it touches.
The more rage the New Hires feel fighting them, the faster and more powerful they are, as if it fuels them.
If any of this corruption touches someone, it burns right through their clothes, creating a bruise-like blight on their skin, a situation they'll have to find resolution to later - or they'll die.
Many of these demons were once boars but a few are massive deer, their pronged antlers squirming with corrupted essence. They at least can be killed but it will take multiple attacks that actually reach the beast under the corruption to finally put them out of their misery. Once killed, the great beasts have all the flesh dissolve off their bodies until only bones are left. They curse the humans with their dying breaths.
b) Flamethrowers
Not soldiers, not people, these entities are like moving statues of cracked calcification that looks like pale ceramic. Between the cracks in their skins, roiling yellow-white flames can be seen sizzling inside. They attack by getting close to people or grabbing them and suddenly stoking their internal fires so that the flames scorch whoever is near.
They can be killed if the fire is extinguished - fortunately there are streams and other sources of water around the battlefield due to a recent rain. They can also be killed if enough force is used against them, but it takes a lot for the ceramic to crack. If it can be broken or damaged, then they collapse in on themselves and burn away into gray ash.
c) Artillerymen
Phantom soldiers shoot artillery fire from a distance. Fortunately, it is weaker than real artillery, with less fragmentation, but a direct hit can still kill you. They fade and vanish when someone gets close, without needing to even be killed, but their weapons need to be destroyed or new soldiers will coalesce out of the mist and use it again.
d) Samurai
The samurai seem to have the ox drivers and their handlers especially afraid, looming out of the mist to attack with their blades and arrows and fading back into it again. They can be killed if characters are fast enough or get the timing right by attacking and forcing them to reappear in another spot. Fortunately, their movements are somewhat predictable.
The corrupted forms of great beasts of the forest, these massive creatures have been changed to demons by their rage. They scuttle around the group extremely fast, the corruption forming spider-like legs, attacking aggressively, the squirming dark worms on their bodies killing any living vegetation it touches.
The more rage the New Hires feel fighting them, the faster and more powerful they are, as if it fuels them.
If any of this corruption touches someone, it burns right through their clothes, creating a bruise-like blight on their skin, a situation they'll have to find resolution to later - or they'll die.
Many of these demons were once boars but a few are massive deer, their pronged antlers squirming with corrupted essence. They at least can be killed but it will take multiple attacks that actually reach the beast under the corruption to finally put them out of their misery. Once killed, the great beasts have all the flesh dissolve off their bodies until only bones are left. They curse the humans with their dying breaths.
b) Flamethrowers
Not soldiers, not people, these entities are like moving statues of cracked calcification that looks like pale ceramic. Between the cracks in their skins, roiling yellow-white flames can be seen sizzling inside. They attack by getting close to people or grabbing them and suddenly stoking their internal fires so that the flames scorch whoever is near.
They can be killed if the fire is extinguished - fortunately there are streams and other sources of water around the battlefield due to a recent rain. They can also be killed if enough force is used against them, but it takes a lot for the ceramic to crack. If it can be broken or damaged, then they collapse in on themselves and burn away into gray ash.
c) Artillerymen
Phantom soldiers shoot artillery fire from a distance. Fortunately, it is weaker than real artillery, with less fragmentation, but a direct hit can still kill you. They fade and vanish when someone gets close, without needing to even be killed, but their weapons need to be destroyed or new soldiers will coalesce out of the mist and use it again.
d) Samurai
The samurai seem to have the ox drivers and their handlers especially afraid, looming out of the mist to attack with their blades and arrows and fading back into it again. They can be killed if characters are fast enough or get the timing right by attacking and forcing them to reappear in another spot. Fortunately, their movements are somewhat predictable.
➤ This is a multi-part plot. Later parts will involve speaking to npcs in Irontown and deciding how to handle the whole conflict.
➤ Characters will have both canon gear (and clothes, if they prefer it over their field uniforms) and the wilderness supplies described in the gear section of the game mechanics page. They will also be allowed to have canon weapons they came in with or will be given a weapon they're comfortable with.
➤ Feel free to ask questions in the question top-level below.
QUESTIONS
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Guts' curse attracts demons and evil spirits to come get him + lets him sense when they get near. Would he notice any change in their behavior?
Also, will the corruption of the demons be able to eat through armor as well? Regular or magical?
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As they pick their way through the hills towards their rendezvous with the caravan, Catra mostly just tries to focus on the walk. She feels weighed down by the equipment she's been given. Woodland green and brown camoflauged fatigues. A knapsack with food and water and extra ammunition and medical supplies and who knows what else (she definitely wasn't paying attention). Then there's the weight of the loaded magazines for her rifle in the vest she wears, the pistol on her hip and the carbine slung across her chest. It's a lot of gear and more than she's used to carrying back home, but that's Jorgmund for you. You take what you're given and deal with it.
They've been scrambling over rocks and picking their way along the slopes of the hills for what feels like hours, though really it can't have been that long. Catra is sweating, her head bowed as she tries to focus on the walk, then curses as she loses her footing, claws digging briefly against a loose stone before she stumbles and sprawls out on the sparsely grassed slope. She groans, then lets her head flop back for a moment as she stares up at the slate-colored sky.
"This sucks."
2. And far away
Later, Catra decides that this sucks more. She's jogging alongside the ox train, snapping at drivers and oxen alike to hurry up when one of the massive, horrific demon creatures comes barreling out of the sparse treeline to bear down on the carvan and its guards. Catra shoulder shoves at an ox driver, then at one of her nearby fellow Jorgmund 'employees'.
"Move! Asshole!" That said, she brings her carbine up to her shoulder and does her best to remember the instructions she'd had over the last few weeks. Tight into the shoulder. Look down the sights. Squeeze, don't pull. There's a sharp crack of gunfire and then she stumbles after the others to diver for cover as the creature comes charging towards the group, seemingly unworried by her first pair of shots.
1 King george commands and we obey!
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"Motherfucker - Catra! Get cover, I'll keep it dancing!"
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Adora isn't used to a lot of this. This is war like she's used to and also is used to. There's chaos and blood and explosions and fire, but it's also strange and haunting. More like some parts of the Whispering Woods than any actual combat. She's been weighed down with equipment and that's also way different from what she's used to, but she's dealing with it. The trail is rugged and jagged and she's mingling with most of the caravaneers, trying to get a better understanding of where they're going and what's going on. The answers are a little vague, although they definitely seem to appreciate the reinforcements that the small band of hires represent.
Their weapons are strange, too, but Adora can't really complain. She's used to a sword and magic. Not... this. Even so, she's making it work.
She turns to wave down one of her fellow newcomers with a frown, pointing back up the path, the way they're moving, "So, I think we should organize ourselves - what if we break the path for them? Deal with anything that gets in the way? That does leave the rest exposed, but I'm worried about trouble up front - if we stall too much we might get bogged down."
She's thinking real hard about this.
2. Charlie's in the Trees
Adora wasn't expecting cannons, honestly. She thought she'd left that behind. But here they are, getting bombed by some distant artillerymen (or not-so-distant; they're a hill or two forward). Adora flinches, half-crouched next to a rock as one of the shells explodes a dozen or so meters away. She cranes her neck, trying to find someone she can wave down.
"We should move up and take care of them-!"
She gestures, yelling to try and be heard over the dull thud of the exploding shells.
"If we don't, we're going to lose everyone! Are you with me?"
3. Wildcard
Make up your own.
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March or die
She's been keeping to the front herself, head on a swivel, but its not enough. Even Guts'... whatever he's got going on... isn't quite the warning she'd like. There are too many potential threats. Scouts will let the heavies stay with the vulnerable carriages, and form a rearguard and bulwark against anything that slips the scouting net.
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bleh sorry for delay
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Guts finds himself guarding the rear, feeling most comfortable with an eye on the oxen and the other Hires ahead of him. He seems calm enough with his role of lending a hand to anyone who might be lagging a bit behind, be it an ox driver or Hire finding the steep rocks a bit too slippery.
For the first time since arrival, he has also donned the black plate mail of the Berserker armor, though the added weight doesn't really impede his hike up the mountains much. For those with magical inclinations, it may be possible to sense that the artifact is cursed - an ominous thing that spells an ill fate for whoever wears it.
spooky monster preamble
In the middle of a particularly narrow pass, Guts stops and turns around, as if spotting something. A sharp pair of eyes may notice the rune on his neck, ordinarily a simple scar, is now seeping out a thin red line of blood.
His eye is fixed on the treeline of the hills behind them, perfectly still except for the sudden jerk of leaves in the distance.
"Something's coming."
aftermath
It could have been demons, or artillerymen, or a mix of them that turned the precarious line of supplies into a chaotic battlefield. A brief and terrible explosion of violence that leaves the caravan a mess, strewn apart by the latest attack they'd managed to fend off. A few oxen had been tossed off the cliffs (inevitable in the narrow strip they were attacked in) and it's now their task to try and get the survivors up and moving again.
In the midst of it all, Guts will approach one of the Hires with something in his hand that had been lost in the battle. Perhaps it was a lost weapon or ammunition dropped in the heat of the moment - he just recognizes it as having belonged to this particular individual.
"I believe this is yours."
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"Yes. My... blade. Yes."
He takes it back almost roughly, his movements a trifle jerky, as if fighting his own enhanced body to come down from the kill-urge that fills him and then almost whispers.
"Thank you."
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general
Something radiates off it, something subtle and rancid as meat just a skosh past the expiration date. It doesn't feel right, somehow; feels like she keeps catching the eyes in the strange wolf-hood looking at her. It's hard not to stare right back. Hostile magic always puts her on edge.
She doesn't like seeing it on Guts. Maybe it shows in her face.
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these techniques are not actually good dog training but it's an astral hellhound sue me
(tw for awful gore dream)
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She had been scouring the narrow area for intact arrows to go with that. Not a lot of luck, honestly, but there were a few here and there. And she wasn't squeamish about pulling them from corpses.
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She takes the shoe out of his hands and leans against a rock to put it back on.
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“Oh, that’s pretty,” she murmurs.
2. Saturday finds herself taking no particular position during their long march, instead floating about and keeping an eye on everything and nothing, rather like a guardian dog. She’s carrying as little as Jorg would let her get away with; the armor they’ve offered her is bulky and not suited to her small frame. It gets in the way, and she keeps having to stop to adjust and tighten it. Frustrated, she pulls to one side and starts ripping at and knotting up her equally oversized jumpsuit, with some vague idea of padding it out to stop the maddening shifting.
3. The battle is done. Saturday sits tucked up behind some wreckage, tending to her wounds. She’s been typically reckless; aside from scrapes and bruises, including a spectacular shiner, she’s acquired a long, low slice along her abdomen, where a ghost-samurai had nearly gutted her. It’s shallow enough that it’s already stopped bleeding. She dabs gingerly at the dried blood drops with disinfectant, wincing as she cleans it. When you step over to her, she doesn’t look up.
“What can I do for ya?” she asks.
3
So, he'll preoccupy himself by kneeling next to her, very much noticing the laceration she was treating.
"You need help patchin' that up?"
It doesn't look too deep, at least.
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circumstances conspire to make a liar outta me
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3
"Gimme that and lean back, I'm feeling fussy."
Which is Stacia for "I thought we were going to be scooping your guts off the ground or burying you and I'm glad you're okay".
She, on the other hand, is entirely unscuffed, and also impractically dressed. She'd declined Jorgmund's body armor in favor of her low wedge heels and cute v-neck romper from home, which vanishes when she shifts. She'd taken a pair of fatigues too, but only for when it gets colder.
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cw: murder, miscarriage
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2
"It looks to be giving you trouble, though." Loken states, the offer of assistance implied rather than stated so if she needs help she can take it, or deny it easily by shrugging off the observation
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One appeared. Swung at her. She swings her rifle up, catching the blade in the plastic of the butt, then spins the weapon around so she can catch the hilt of the katana in one hand, then sweep it loose with an almost casual gesture, a spray of blood erupting from the samurai as his arms spin into the air to join the arrows flying above. "Lucky," she exclaims, with a little smile to herself. Giving another test swing, she makes a gleeful little noise. "Oh, and it's quality!" How fortunate! She turns and holds it out for the nearest person. "Just look at the hamon line, it's gorgeous!"
She seems... utterly unconcerned about the fact that they're in the middle of a battle.
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"Yeah, what the - oh, hey, that is nice." A charging norse beserker crunches face-first into her foot. "Good find. Now let's see how she swings."
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"But I'll take functionality over beauty."
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It's hard to put a finger on exactly what it is, but as soon as her (impractically shod in her low wedge heels from home) feet are on the ground, Stacia...changes. It's almost as if their temporary freedom from the rig has wrapped her in a cloak of cool, calm power. It's also much harder to keep track of her. She doesn't vanish, a headcount turns up the same number of people, but Stacia herself is hard to spot. She blends in with the crowd, unless she separates herself from it, to scout ahead or to one side or the other. Anyone who wants her would do best to call to her and brace themselves for her to pop up at their elbow.
b, c, d
For all that they all know she turns into an enormous wolf-monster with claws and teeth at will, the moment they come under attack, Stacia runs. But it's not from fear; she'd declined Jorgmund's body armor in favor of additional guns and ammo. They'd even given her a sniper rifle.
Stacia shoots with the methodical precision of a professional who's used to firing into melee battles. Their enemies aren't human and don't go down with one shot, but she's used to that too. Plus, her additional vantage point allow her to provide information to the other members of the Rig Crew.
"Hey!" she calls down into the fight, once she's cleared some space, "I could use another pair of eyes up here!"
a
When the massive demonic forest creatures show up, Stacia bares her teeth and lets out a growl that sounds far deeper than something that could come from her chest. It's not the Wyrm, it can't be the Wyrm, but it looks similar enough that she feels her Rage bubbling to the surface.
And the corrupted animals seem to notice. She can't settle in one place to snipe them, because they're drawn to her like a magnet. She thrusts one of her guns into the hands of another member of the rig crew.
"Guess I'm bait," she says. "Try not to hit me."
And then she shifts into her eight-and-a-half-foot wolf-monster form and roars.
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"Would you prefer a partner in this assault?" The question is almost more of a statement, it seeming quite clear he's going to be wading in to end the demons with blade(s) in hand.
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Cayde-6 has stolen a samurai's horse. Cayde-6 remembers how to ride a horse. His cloak flares out behind him dramatically whenever he brings it up to a gallop. Cayde-6 is having the best of all possible times.
In more relaxed moments when he's not using his ill-gotten superior mobility to help fend off attacks or go scouting ahead, he's been talking to people. Mostly about said ill-gotten superior mobility.
"I'd like to introduce you to my new associate. His name is Blinky McBlink," he's explaining from atop the horse. "...I haven't actually managed to get him to do the creepy blinking-in-and-out-of-existence thing, but considering I'd probably fall off, that might just be for the best."
Blinky, for his part, seems to be tolerating that this is a thing that's happening now.
2. One-Man Cavalry
Someone is split off from the supply line, blocked by the threat of a boar and a deer bearing down on them, attempting to push in near enough to surround and overhwelm them. Cayde is gunning (literally) to help out.
Shots from the Ace of Spades ripple through the roiling corrupted shells of the creatures, and then the golden flame of a solar grenade takes a chunk out of the boar's side. It turns its head to charge toward him, tusks at the ready, and Cayde tugs his stolen horse to the side just in time. To the Stuff-made animal's credit, it doesn't flinch.
Then Cayde and horse are there. He's plugging shots into the deer with one hand in an effort to keep it back while the other arm extends downward.
"Get on!"
3. Wildcard
Hit me with your best shot, fire away.
Cayde is honestly feeling pretty great here because weird chaos is his element and he can be actually useful.
I Say Thee Neigh
Stacia takes a step back, holding her hands up and keeping a careful eye on Blinky.
"Unless you want him to blink out from under you, you should probably keep him away from me," she says. "Horses don't tend to like me much. Prey animals and all."
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