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goneawayworld2020-06-24 12:42 am
goneawaymod) wrote in goneawayworld2020-06-24 12:42 am
Entry tags:
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.
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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.
Re: 3
While Saturday is capable of ignoring anything when she has to, once the fighting's died down? She can be a bit of a baby.
"Aiya, ow, okay, gimme that ointment an' the bandage roll."
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"You should rest until we get to the town," he adds.
The wounds weren't bad, but there's some part of him that wishes to discourage her from getting hurt any further. It's not like they had healing magic to wick away the damage.
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"Nah, just gettin' it all outta my system now. I'm good for another round, at least."
And she means it, too. "You want someone to look out for, keep an eye on Catra. She's pissed as hell."
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Guts' concern is to get them there in one piece and still ready to fight. This was only the start of whatever conflict they were being thrown into.
circumstances conspire to make a liar outta me
She shifts, and winces. One of the boars tagged her a while back, hard across the calf. She'd thought it was just a bruise - there was no blood - but it's been bugging her.
"This is just a scratch."
It's a moment's work to pull up her pantleg. It hurts - actually hurts, not just itching; cloth moving over it feels like pressing a bruise. She sucks in a breath and probes, suddenly focused. You can tell by how she's not complaining about the feeling anymore.
"Fuck." She pulls her leg fully into her lap. There's a spot on the back of her calf, a little streak of purple pus about the size of a coin. But it looks like it's spreading. "Well, that's fun."
She honestly doesn't know what else to say.
no subject
Guts of all people can recognize a bit of bluster when it's tossed his way. His worry isn't insistent - there's a softness that enters his face as he bends over to get a closer look. A hand reaches forward to grasp the knee of her injured leg.
"That ain't just a scratch."
He's seen enough plague and disease in his life to know better. It doesn't look too bad yet, but things like this can deteriorate fast if they leave it alone. Those demons had been melting away foliage like nothing - who knows what they can do to a living body?
"Does Jorgmund have any medicine for this?"
no subject
She sighs. "Maybe the place we're headed knows what this? If they've been dealing with these creatures, they have to have seen it before."
Her fingers explore the little splotch of blight. It feels spongy, not like proper flesh, and hurts; hurts like a bone bruise. What she doesn't say, because she doubts she needs to, is that knowing what something is ain't the same as knowing how to fix it.
"It's not that bad yet. I'll keep an eye on it and look for a doctor once we're in town."
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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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"Yes'm. Ow ow ow - " She winces no matter how gentle Stacia is; Saturday just doesn't like the feeling.
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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.
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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.
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'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."
Re: 3
"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.
Re: 3
"I can do tight," Stacia says reassuringly. "I know people with battle corsets."
She sets about Saturday with ointments and bandages, feeling glad that she isn't a Theurge or a Child of Gaia right now. It's annoying enough to not have a healing gourd to smash on Saturday, it would be even worse if she'd been used to being able to heal something like this with a touch. It takes more of her concentration than cleaning the wound does, so she doesn't keep rambling as she works; though she does finish it off with a few pokes to make sure the bandages stay in place.
"Okay, I think you're set. Let me know if it starts shifting around and we can try it again. I'm not actually that experienced with bandages that aren't also magic armor."
Re: 3
"Should oughta work," she declares. "Wish my crew was here. We got a proper healer, you know," she wiggles her fingers in demonstration. "Magic hands."
Then she remember she doesn't want to look ungrateful.
"Not complaining or nothin', just really miss my people. You did a great job."
It just should have been someone else fussing at her, and that knowledge is like a little icy thorn in her heart.
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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
Re: 2
Her jury-rigging might do more harm than good, at the rate she's going. A lot of frustration balled up in those tearing fists.
"I wish the Stuff hadn't nabbed me in the middle of the night."
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He shrugs. "I take it you... had your own personal armor at home then?"
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She makes a frustrated noise.
"I miss my stuff."
It's a selfish, childish whine, but she does.
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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.
Re: 2
She gestures at her face, communicating the general idea that it made her look like an extremely badass and mysterious warrior, at least by her, ah, very specific and unique aesthetics standards. In cyberpunk, mall ninja shit is cool, okay?
" - not to mention it did about everything. Flare comp, night vision, camera, toxin filters, underwater breathing, you name it."
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"Yeah, I can see the Imperium of Man's got a real subtle aesthetic."
She shrugs. "My line of work, advertising pays. Also, people see the gear, they don't see the person; easier to fly low when needed. And it looks cool, dammit."
The last part she says with the grumble of a woman who is frankly used to this reaction.
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