goneawaymod: (Default)
Piper 90: Mods ([personal profile] goneawaymod) wrote in [community profile] goneawayworld2020-06-24 12:42 am

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.


OOC DETAILS

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.
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-07-10 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
"It's fine," she says again. "I'm sure the town's seen this before."

It only takes a moment to bandage the blight patch on her leg, in case that helps. She even puts some of the antibiotics on it.

"There. If it's magic, we got magic; magic can fix magic." In like 95% of all cases! "If it's natural, I got medicine on it and there's stuff back at the rig I'm pretty sure could raise the dead if you got the body there in time."

She stands, determinedly putting the normal amount of weight on her leg and not flinching. Everything is going to be fine.
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

Re: #2

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-07-10 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
Saturday is already moving out of it, drawing the creature back into Catra's line with all its wrath focused on her and her alone. She snarls a challenge at it, one that rings in her bones. The boar meets her with a wet growl, phlegm dripping between the curds of corruption on its lips.

"Come get some, motherfucker," she breathes. The boar charges. She darts away, forcing it to turn abruptly and nearly overbalance. Her calf throbs where the beast had bruised it, but nothing more. She can keep it dancing as long as Catra has bullets to riddle it with.
71lines: (013)

[personal profile] 71lines 2020-07-10 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
She'd be just fine with throwing them, but Tenten's not going to pester Guts about that. He needs them more than she does, after all. Besides, a crossbow would have better penetration. Even that little arm thing.

She makes a mental note to ask him about his arm when they get back.

"Two oxen would be devastating for a family, but for a bunch of merchants like this?" She shakes her head, bending over to pull an arrow out of someone's eye socket. It's barely even enough to mention. "At least we ended up with people who know how to handle themselves."
princesspower: (scowl)

[personal profile] princesspower 2020-07-10 03:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"I don't know what I'm asking-" Adora sighs, still trudging forward. She has half an ear for the noise of the caravan and the sounds of the woods around them. Their strange attackers. It's a stressful situation as it is. She really doesn't need to add to it.

"I just hate waiting, I guess. I don't like feeling like I'm not in control of what's going on around me. So - yeah. I guess I'll just have to wait it out..."
credit_not_blame: (Pensive)

Re: 3

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-07-12 04:47 am (UTC)(link)
"I know it's the adrenaline having worn off and all, but it's always funny when people whiz through fights without so much blinking and then wince their way through the clean up," Stacia says, inspecting the wound carefully for any debris as she cleans it. "This looks better than I thought it was going to. Good job not actually getting disemboweled, you have spared yourself the "your insides should not become outsides" lecture. Which is a lecture that I have, in fact, given before, because melee combat is the woooooorst."

She's mostly just rambling in an attempt to keep Saturday's mind off of the cleaning process. Stacia is so very thankful for the speed-healing abilities that mean that she doesn't have to go through this nonsense.
credit_not_blame: the new moon at night (new moon)

Re: a

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-07-12 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
Stacia's current mouth is not shaped to produce the sounds of human communication, so instead she shrugs. The chainsword is loud, but not so loud that it's intolerable.

When this is all over, she'll have to ask about the symbolism of the wolf and moon on his pauldron.

She launches herself forward toward the corrupted beast, darting away at the last moment to try and draw its attention away from Loken so that he can flank it.
credit_not_blame: (Default)

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-07-12 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
Stacia stomps her foot to make sure her shoe is on securely (or at least as securely as it can be) before trotting after Guts.

"Are we just leaving the bodies?" she asks, glancing around at them. "Shouldn't we bury them? Or at least not leave them on the path?"
cachedout: (15)

[personal profile] cachedout 2020-07-12 01:53 pm (UTC)(link)
1. I Say Thee Neigh
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.
Edited 2020-07-12 13:59 (UTC)
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-07-12 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Saturday nods, understanding.

"It's the worst. You know they're gonna pull something, but they ain't got the common decency to get it over with. I know. I - a friend of mine got got, a while back."

Less than half a month; three days before she was taken, but who's counting.

"Whole time she was gone I couldn't do shit but work the plan we had and hope. Fucking sucked."
heterochrocatic: (021 » I hope that our few remaining frie)

Re: #2

[personal profile] heterochrocatic 2020-07-13 05:43 pm (UTC)(link)
As Saturday finally moves out of the way, Catra squints down the sights of the carbine and opens fire. She squeezes the trigger in rapid bursts, sending well-aimed shots piercing past the creature's corruption to lodge into it's decrepit body. She drops to a knee, continuing to fire as she moves to track the thing's path.

"Come on, fall already!"
garmr: (pic#12927697)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-07-14 09:21 am (UTC)(link)
“A laser...”

What the fuck is a laser?

As Guts looks through the bones, the steel tip of his dagger hits something hard in the dirt. Curious, he sheathes it and brushes the dirt away with the fingers of his iron arm (the nice titanium one was back on the Rig).

In the palm of his false hand is a rugged looking iron ball, one that would be too large to fit in the barrel of his own weapon. It looked like it could have erupted from the guns nestled between a castle’s crenellations.

“This yours?”

He looks back at Loken, suspecting that it probably wasn’t his.
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

Re: 3

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-07-14 06:10 pm (UTC)(link)
"My insides rarely become outsides." Saturday has braced herself back on her hands, scowling with the upset of a born warrior who is having to undergo the indignity of being tended to. Big ahroun energy. "I'm a very good melee fighter."

She is, too. A moment after the samurai had tagged her, its head had been on the ground and she'd been moving to the next target.
garmr: (pic#13331544)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-07-14 07:53 pm (UTC)(link)
"It consumes you. It unlocks something seething and terrible from within. It's like an impulse that fills your body, and it's always ready to erupt."

Guts didn't like admit that his control was shaky on something like this, but there was no use masking the truth. With the way his luck tended to go, she'd probably see it for herself one day.

"Everything becomes an enemy. You have all this extra strength in your limbs and a thing to focus it all on. Pain doesn't matter any more. There's only one thought on your mind, and you don't stop until that thing ahead of you is in pieces."

Oddly fitting for him, despite everything.

"The witch would use her magic to clear my sight, in a way. Make it easier to see through the haze of the armor, so I don't do something I would regret."
credit_not_blame: (Default)

Re: 3

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-07-14 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)

'Big Ahroun Energy' indeed.

"Obviously you're a very good melee fighter," she says, halfway between reassuring and teasing. "Melee fighters who aren't either stop fighting melee, get better, or get dead. There's a reason I'm a sniper."

That, and bikini season is unforgiving enough without disembowelment scars.

"I don't think you need stitches. I'd say it doesn't need bandages, but we both know that you're not going to not fight the next time something shows up, and it's absolutely going to start seeping again once you start moving around the way you have to for that."

princesspower: (scowl)

[personal profile] princesspower 2020-07-14 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's the worst!" Adora gripes, "I wonder if they know how much this tortures us - or if they even care. They probably don't. They probably think we're just disposable. That they can use us up or-"

She trails off with a frustrated grunt and kicks at a rock, sending it skittering down the path in front of them.

"I need to find something else to do or I'm going to go crazy."
garmr: (pic#12927670)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-07-14 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Guts can't really bring himself to be optimistic on his own, but Saturday's assurance at least manages to get him to look a bit less grim.

Perhaps he simply felt at a loss to do when he was neither a surgeon or a magic user. All he could really do was kill enemies.

"Then we better get to the town as fast as we can."
greyerrant: (Angry Garvi)

[personal profile] greyerrant 2020-07-15 06:39 am (UTC)(link)
"Spiking it now!" As good as his word he shoves a frag grenade down the mouth of the cannon, then begins moving swiftly away from it, the exhalations of his own breath amplified by the vox grille of his armor.
greyerrant: (Looking down.)

Re: 2

[personal profile] greyerrant 2020-07-15 06:41 am (UTC)(link)
"I don't have anything to miss."

Loken can't really relate, nothing that he is issued as an Astartes is really HIS as such, just tools for the task at hand.

"I'm sorry."

He figures that's what you should say to a juve in distress, if nothing else.
greyerrant: (There is only war)

Re: a

[personal profile] greyerrant 2020-07-15 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
Loken flanks in and cuts into the beast with a ripping cut of the chainsword, loosing corrupted flesh and viscera into the air. It isn't enough to slay it, but it is enough to wound it, and he steps back, staying clear of flashing claws and a snapping jaw, eschewing close in bolter rounds to avoid accidentally injuring his wolflike companion. He muses, wondering if they are some sort of abhuman his training hasn't informed him of.
greyerrant: (Squinty)

[personal profile] greyerrant 2020-07-15 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
"No, my weapons fire shells such as this." He pulls a half-expended magazine out and plucks out a single bolter round for guts to see. "I think we may see heavier artillery from our foe, given this. I wonder if it has a ritual or sorcerous property to it."

He hesitates for a moment, and then meets eyes with Guts. "is there anyone you trust to analyze it?"
princesspower: (When our prime has come and gone)

[personal profile] princesspower 2020-07-15 04:14 pm (UTC)(link)
"Got it-!" Adora moves away from the first cannon toward the second. There's a sharp crack and an explosion and the barrel is shredded. It won't be any good for firing anymore, that's for sure.

"Next one!"
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-07-15 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"You think there's a way one of our magic users could mimic that effect?"

It's the first idea that comes into her head, and she needs something to say while she races to process the implications of what he's saying, and the extreme concern it causes her. He is a grown man. He seems relatively experienced in his world's magic, at least as experienced as she is in hers.

Yeah, but how often has she taken risks she didn't really understand, and paid for it?

Just because it sounds like a cursed object designed to corrupt the wearer and turn him or her into a vessel for horrors doesn't mean that's what it is for sure and certain.
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

Re: #2

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-07-16 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
Saturday keeps the creature spinning and wasting energy on short, fruitless charges. Catra has a clear line of fire; Saturday doesn't engage any further, just taunts it and keeps its energy focused on her, and not evading or attacking Catra.

"Eat shit, eat shit, eat shit - "

Catra is working the thing over, but it won't die. Black blood drips into squirming pools, turning the field to mud and torn grass. Which is what is Saturday's undoing, as she makes another vaulting leap over the demon's back and lands in a hard stumble, one foot sliding on the slicked-up ground. Barely half an inch, but just enough to throw off her careful rhythm. She dodges a second too soon, and the boar's thrashing head catches her as she jumps away. A tusk tears a line through her uniform, brushes her skin - it feels cold, like sharp metal, sharper than the tusk should be - and Saturday hits the ground in a hard front roll. She lashes out behind her, blind, and her sword slides back out of her palm. The pig gets got in the ankle. Saturday just barely avoids it as it stumbles and falls
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

Re: 3

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-07-16 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
Fie on Stacia, she gets enough of this grief from Scylla

"Yeah, I know. Make 'em tight, would you?" Saturday remembers this isn't actually Maggie she's talking to. "Or I can."

The wound isn't her biggest problem, anyhow. That would be the growing weird whatever the demon had marked her with on her calf. She doesn't see much point in telling Stacia about that, though, not when she barely knows what it is and has come up with a first step on her own. No need to involve anyone else yet. If it was her crew, she wouldn't hesitate, but -

They're not her people, not really, not the same way as the crew. Instinct and stern training hold her back, and since those are the only things that have kept her alive so far, she lets them.

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