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)

Re: 3

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-08-04 11:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Saturday shrugs at her first point. "Don't see the problem. We got plenty of targets on the rig. And Caim'd love it. He hated fascists, too."

She crosses her legs, settling in. "They were your crew, yeah? Don't need more'n that to start with. So let's start with how."
greyerrant: (helmet)

[personal profile] greyerrant 2020-08-05 05:08 am (UTC)(link)
"Garviel Loken." he crouches in cover, red eye-slits glowing a bit as he looks over her. "Good to know you, mamzel?"
greyerrant: (Angry Garvi)

Re: a

[personal profile] greyerrant 2020-08-05 05:17 am (UTC)(link)
Loken nods in acknowledgement of her manuever, and steps back, sweeping down his blade in a two-handed strike that rips the creature from hip to thigh, a vox-enhanced bellow accompanying this brutal battle-ending blow. He stands, looking at Stacia, his helmet spattered in gore. ANd there is moon-sign on it. THough perhaps amusingly for Stacia... the symbol Garviel has had etched into his helmet is that of the new moon, representing his place in the Mournival, even though he himself made an end of that particular brotherhood some time ago, blade in hand.

"Well fought."
greyerrant: (Squinty)

[personal profile] greyerrant 2020-08-05 05:18 am (UTC)(link)
"That could come in useful." Loken nods approvingly. "Though I would imagine it isn't pleasant. Will you be all right when they approach?"
greyerrant: (Garviportrait)

Re: 2

[personal profile] greyerrant 2020-08-05 05:22 am (UTC)(link)
"In my own defense my armor and aspect is that of a shock-trooper. Everything about my appearance and my actions is designed to overwhelm and overawe baseline humanity, and most xenos. Our line troops look like soldiers anywhere, greens, browns, perhaps a bit of braid on the officers."

He nods, "I'm certain. SO how does your work... work, exactly?"

Loken definitely doesn't know how shadowrunners operate.
credit_not_blame: the new moon at night (new moon)

Re: a

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-08-05 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
All things considered, she's willing to bet that's a new moon on his head. And it is amusing.

Stacia responds to his acknowledgment with a chuff and a finger-guns gesture before she uses her stick to lever the parts of the demon-thing further away from each other. The...growths haven't stopped writhing entirely yet, and she doesn't trust them not to drag the thing back together again.
credit_not_blame: (Distress)

cw: murder, miscarriage

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-08-05 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
"Bonus: I can shift and sober up real quick to cover our tracks so that we don't get caught," Stacia says, sitting down again since no one seems to be moving yet.

"Okay, I'm going to give you the quick and dirty version because getting into all the details would be complicated and boring," she says. Also because she doesn't want to get too deep into Secret Garou Politics, even if Saturday is from another reality and they're in a third reality entirely.

"The set-up is that werewolves, like any other people, divide themselves into groups based on various criteria. There's one particular group that's considered the 'nobility' and everyone agrees that they are to one reason or another. Some of them are okay people, some of them are elitist douchebags, and most of them are somewhere in between.

"My buddy, Ace, is pretty decent as those guys go. He was one of the people who found me after I shifted for the first time, and he decided right then and there that I was his favorite baby cousin. That's basically how our pack started, him smiling indulgently at me while I screamed at him that everything he was saying was stupid and that werewolves didn't exist."

She'd had him in her phone for a long time as "THIS asshole".

"We pick up a few more people and none of the rest of us were 'nobility' at all, but Ace brought us along to the fancy werewolf parties anyway. Most of us were eventually looking to become leaders ourselves, and he wanted to give us the opportunity to mix and mingle with powerful people. He brought some of our other friends along, too. Unfortunately, some of the worse ones decided that we were getting ideas above our stations, and that we needed to be put back in our places."

Stacia flexes her fingers. Breathes in, holds it for a four count, and lets it out again.

"Like I said, they separated us up. Found ways to call us off in different directions at the same time, things we weren't suspicious of." Bares-His-Fangs and Bulletproof had been off with their respective Tribes, and Lilly had received an invitation likewise. They'd planted a bomb in Isaac's car. Ace got a summons to the king's court. And Stacia's mom had called and asked her to come home early so they could talk.

"They attacked me and Lilly at the same time," she says quietly. "We all felt her die. They all felt what those asshole did to me. We felt Bares die when he tried to come back for us, even though we told him to stay away; and Bulletproof did stay away, he broke ties and went into hiding. And the only reason our non-pack buddy survived was that a pregnant friend was able to warn him in time, and the only reason she didn't die for that was because he saved her back. But the baby didn't make it."
garmr: (pic#12927697)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-08-06 09:28 am (UTC)(link)
Guts looks back at the dark forest, the shadows peering back at them through the rustling leaves.

“I don’t feel any demons around. Not sure how much quiet we’ll get to have deeper down the trail.”

Not that he’s in a rush, but he figures things won’t stay peaceful like this the longer they wait.
garmr: (pic#13805102)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-08-06 09:54 am (UTC)(link)
“This ain’t the worst plague of monsters I’ve had to deal with. Promise.”

Definitely the more annoying end, though. He liked it better when his enemies were easier to bifurcate with his sword.
credit_not_blame: (Default)

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-08-06 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)

Guts might get an answer about her combat choices if he asked her about them out loud. Luckily for everyone, herself included, Stacia isn't psychic.

"Yeah, the last thing anyone needs in a fight is to be tripping over their allies and getting in each other's way," she agrees. "Especially since I'm the only one here with speed-healing, I think."

wheyoftheadept: (Default)

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-08-07 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
"All right, then." She sets off, leading the way with a determined stride to hide the knot in her belly that acts up every time proper magic gets involved in things. She accepts that she's got a magical edge, now; she has to, after all she's seen and done. But proper magic, mage magic, with books and formulas and study, that still feels - like she's looked around the card table and realized she can't spot the sucker.

She wishes Maggie were here, but she's not. So.

"All right." Saturday turns to face him in a small clearing. Shafts of sunlight brush against the forest floor. "You ready?"
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

Re: 2

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-08-07 03:07 am (UTC)(link)
Saturday rubs at her chin. "Well, whatever needs doing, really. You know, sometimes you gotta get someone or something from one place to another place, and you know, sometimes maybe you're concerned, for example, about trouble along the way. And you could send your own people, but that might be inconvenient or unwise for any variety of reasons. Or maybe you need an extraction performed, on goods, data, or people. So you outsource to someone like me."

She shrugs. "At least, that's the idea. Mercenary, thief, smuggler, whatever needs doing, someone in the shadows can do it, or knows someone who can. An' what shadowrunners can offer, in theory, is total discretion and goal-oriented, no-questions-asked approach. I kinda suck at it, though. My first run was against that hive, an' it - well, you know. Fucked it up big time. Since then we've mostly just been trying to stay alive and one step ahead. Guess we're not really runners anymore."

Her chuckle is weak, even to her own ears. But it's what she deserves, really, for thinking she could somehow protect her people and turn a profit at the same time. It's one or the other, she knows that now. She's seen that now. The master's tools can't dismantle the master's house, and she chose her side a long time ago.
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

Re: cw: murder, miscarriage

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-08-07 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
Saturday processes this. She takes a sip from her canteen as she does. Then she nods a little.

"That's - familiar." She's gotta roll the concept around in her head a bit, see what pieces fall into which slots in her own understanding of the universe, but end of the day she knows this story. Lived some parts of it, too. "The nails that stick up, get hammered down. Mind you," she says, offering Stacia her water for lack of anything stronger, "best make sure they stay hammered, or they're gonna rip an artery right open, first chance they get. Yeah?"
garmr: (pic#13933110)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-08-07 05:13 am (UTC)(link)
He follows her into the woods, awfully silent as they make their way between the trees. It is a dangerous thing they're attempting, no doubt, but he will have to simply trust in Saturday's prowess here. If something goes wrong, they'll figure it out the next steps when they get there.

After taking a hawkish glance at the forest around them, he nods.

"Yeah. Need me to do anything?"
credit_not_blame: (Default)

Re: cw: murder, miscarriage

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-08-07 04:27 pm (UTC)(link)

"That's where the guilt comes in," Stacia says, accepting the offered canteen. "Because yeah, we'd have gotten hit at some point, right? Ace isn't gonna notice or care if people are talking shit behind his back, so eventually they're gonna escalate to taking swings at the rest of us to make us go away. The rest of 'em can -- could -- take care of themselves in a fight, but I'm the one supposed to be keeping an eye on our butts politically. And Bares and Lilly died, and they carved 'trash' into her body before they left it. The only reason I survived the maiming they did to me was because they wanted Ace to be the one to decide I was too damaged and kill me himself to spare me the misery. Teach him a lesson about elevating people like me. They just didn't count on our connections outside of the werewolf box and our ability and willingness to make use of them. But the end result is that I'm alive and Lilly and Bares and Zelda's baby aren't, and I can't help but feel that I should have been able to see it coming."

She takes a sip from Saturday's canteen, an expression of grim satisfaction in her eyes.

"But yeah, you're right. If you're gonna hammer a nail down, you need to make sure it stays down. Ace can't hold a grudge to save his life, unless the evidence of what went wrong is right in front of him, day in and day out. He went outside the box again to find out who'd done it while I was recovering, and got evidence of not just who'd done it, but what other murderous, shitty things they'd done, and we turned it over to appropriate and very trustworthy authorities."

She shrugs and passes the canteen back. "The leader got executed for his crimes, but not before he and his pack got into an all out brawl that left four of the others dead. The only survivor was their healer, and she got demoted and put under care for deprogramming the shit the rest of the pack taught her. She's young enough that she might recover and learn to be a better person."

wheyoftheadept: (Default)

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-08-10 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
"No, just, you know, stand there and try not to think psycho thoughts." Saturday takes a slow breath, settles her nerves. Then she closes her eyes, and opens them. And then she opens them again.

What Guts sees, if he sees anything, is her eyes beginning to glow faintly. Not with the kind of light you can see by, either. As soon as she gets a good look at him, she blanches.

The armor is black as rot, clinging like an oilslick to the sides of his soul. It's not a cloak on his back, she sees that now, it's a living shroud that ripple with the urge to suffocate and swallow.

Her upper lip curls. The beast hiding inside the armor sneers back.

She steps up to Guts, grabs a chunk of the cloak - feeling only cloth against her skin, seeing the pelt of a great beast clenched in her hand. She has a snout, or a paw, or neither of those things. Whatever - she's got its attention, which is exactly what she wanted.

A pale, mocking eye opens in the black fabric. She snarls, tugging the beast by the base of its astral tail, and hears it hissing back in the corner of her mind. The cloak yanks from her hand, and she braces her heels in the earth and hauls, determined to make her point as it tries to swarm away from her.

For Guts, this probably all looks and feels extremely weird.
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

Re: cw: murder, miscarriage

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-08-10 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
"Cheers to that," Saturday says, nodding approval. "The world sounds well rid of them."

She's not going to tell Stacia not to beat herself up, that she isn't responsible; why would she, when she holds herself to the same standards? She's gonna blame herself for the hive run going sideways and everything that followed until the end of time.

But there is one thing she can say, and does.

"You lived and you got your own back. Next time, you'll do it better. That's all you can ask." She bites the inside of her mouth. "Being one of the survivors sure can suck, though."
credit_not_blame: (Default)

Re: cw: murder, miscarriage

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-08-10 03:05 am (UTC)(link)
Stacia considers pretending that she has no idea what Saturday means by got your own back, as if she had no involvement in the bloody mess that had been made of the Silver Fangs. It'd be logical, be good practice for if anyone came around asking back home. You can do whatever you want, but only if you don't get caught, and covering your ass is part of that.

But fuck it, that's a waste of time and a waste of the ear Saturday offered her.

"Yeah," she agrees. "I will do better next time. And yeah, in some ways, being the survivor kind of sucks." She laughs, and it's more genuine this time. "You know, I used to worry that I was a monster? Just this constant, low-grade whisper in the back of my head that all it would take is a single slip and I wouldn't be able to tell right from wrong anymore. I'd undo everything that happened in half a heartbeat if I could, but it's nice to not have that worry gnawing at me anymore."
garmr: (pic#13079104)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-08-10 02:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Guts can only see her grasp the cloth as her eyes begin to glow, but with his body being half-step into the astral realm itself those manipulations are going to feel... tangible. It was different from Schierke’s tether. This creature lived in the armor, but it was still a part of him.

It is stirring the same way it does when the strong scent of blood hits his senses. The way it will seem to emerge from the darkness when his heart quickens with an odd excitement at danger. It’s as if the smoldering coals are being brushed with bits of kindling, making the flames leap up at him and threaten to ignite. But no, there was no danger here. He needed to keep himself composed.

The beast’s jaws are a mess of sharp teeth as it stirs, awakening from its dormancy. He can feel it - that familiar seething mass of black hatred. A malicious thing that would grow too large for the chains it was given some day - though for now, it remains fully tethered in place. Whether the astral chains are from the witch’s talismans or Guts’ attempt to control it is unclear - maybe it is a bit of both.
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

Re: cw: murder, miscarriage

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-08-11 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"Hah. Yeah." Saturday can't relate. She'd only just acquired that gnawing worry, and honestly, too - she doesn't like what she's becoming, what she's apparently willing to become in the name of - pride, and guarding what's hers. Persons and positions.

You don't need scales and wings to be a dragon. She's a dragon's sister. That's apparently enough.

But she gets the gist of it, the shift in how you look at yourself.

"I'm sorry for what you've gone through," is what she says instead of any of that.
wheyoftheadept: (Default)

[personal profile] wheyoftheadept 2020-08-11 09:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Saturday finds the thing's jaw and digs her fingers into it. Even brushing the teeth makes her fingers bleed and go cold; she ignores it, because she can. At least for a little while.

"My name's Saturday," she informs it, glaring into a pale cold eye. "We're gonna have to work together, or die. *Do not fuck with me.*"

To make her point clear she digs the nails of her metal arm, suddenly sharp as knives, into its gums. Then she shoves it away and leaps back, wary, ready to meet it if it decides to continue the challenge.

It was the only thing she could think to do, once she saw its form was a dog.

"Guts," she calls. "It's a rabid fucker, but the two of us beats the on it any day. Work with me. I know you can."
garmr: (pic#13079104)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-08-11 11:22 pm (UTC)(link)
A reverberating growl escapes its throat as the claws rip across its mouth, but it doesn’t attack. The scent of her blood has perked its nose. The bleeding from its own wound was leaking into its mouth. Its lips peel back into a wide grin, revealing the entire terrible line of jagged teeth lining its jaws. A bestial laugh escapes it as it soaks in that fresh scent of blood. It’s been weeks since it has gotten a taste.

Its tongue lolls lazily to the side, drinking gingerly of the blood from its own wound. It licks its lips in anticipation.

“Die? Yes. Let us see who dies first. Keep this blood flowing.”

The beast wraps itself near the soul of its host, like a hound affectionately coiling to sleep around its master. It is entirely aware it would need to bide its time. Guts was too calm for it to explode into hellfire, yet.

It tilts its head, looking pleasantly curious at her.

”I will be sure to savor yours.”

Its tail wags a little, excited at the thought of carnage in its teeth. Something about her just made the idea of tearing her to pieces seem far sweeter than usual.
garmr: (pic#13331541)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-08-13 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah. Can't say I have that."

He is just a human with a weird love for throwing himself at mortal danger.

"Your gun is better than any crossbow, but I wonder why you prefer it over your claws and fangs if you can heal quickly."
Edited 2020-08-13 06:58 (UTC)
credit_not_blame: (Default)

[personal profile] credit_not_blame 2020-08-14 05:22 pm (UTC)(link)

"Yeah, I can see how that would seem weird," Stacia agrees. "But I've got two explanations. One, just because I can walk off being disemboweled doesn't mean I want to have to do it. It's gross and it still hurts and healing fast doesn't prevent scarring. Two, back home, I'm not the only one who heals like I do. I didn't train to be the only one who could jump into close combat and walk it off. I trained to provide cover and backup to everyone who does jump right in."

She shrugs. "I can get up close and personal in a fight, I know that you don't always have to option of choosing your distance from combat when it breaks out. But what I'm best at is shooting, and I don't see much point in being mediocre on the front line getting in the way of the experts, when I could be an expert shot from waaaaaaay back there. Make sense?"

garmr: (pic#13039877)

[personal profile] garmr 2020-08-14 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)
The explanation gets a slight eyebrow raise.

"Noted. First time I've heard of wolf monsters thinkin' about tactics."

Beasts preferring coordination??? He supposes it makes sense for something similar to a wolf... Guts is learning something new today.

"The beasts I know don't care too much about that. Even if they have cannons, they like to get close. More raw hunger than teamwork. Good to see you're different."

Page 8 of 10