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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.
no subject
Familiar as he was with magic, he wasn't a mage himself, sadly.
"She would project her mind into mine, somehow. It was like a tether or a lifeline at sea - her voice would make it easier to keep the armor's current at bay."
Saturday did say she had some kind of magic of her own - maybe she knew a way to work it out?
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This is sort of a lie. Saturday has technically astrally jandered a couple times, but they were never on purpose and usually ended with her eyes catching fire or agreeing to be a demon's parole officer. There's a history here, is what she's getting at.
" - I could give it a shot, I guess."
She'll have to practice; the moment of crisis is never a good time to attempt a new technique.
"Should ask around, first, see if anyone else actually like. Does that regularly."
no subject
At least, as far as he'd observed from their companions. That whole process was always a bit... close, anyway. It felt odd to ask a stranger to jump into his head. It meant sticking around him when he activates the armor.
He'd rather they just stay away.
"You don't need to do it if you're not sure. You could get caught in the vortex yourself."
no subject
"Let's make some time to see if I can get the knack, okay? I don't gotta do it great, just enough to redirect your armor's thing. Even I can do that much."
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She's definitely right on that account. Jumping in with no back-up plan is a terrible idea, and he knew it. The best case scenario where he miraculously manages to wrangle back some control would still be incredibly risky.
"Not sure if there's any good way to give you practice. Can't really half-activate this thing."
no subject
She stretches out her metal hand. "An' this arm is magic, so usually it can like. Touch magic stuff, like ghosts and spirits an' such. So maybe at least I can beat it down if it gets obstreperous."
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Having seen Schierke do her spells, he isn't sure if that means Saturday might go into a trance-like state while she takes a look at the armor's astral self. Trudging up the mountains makes that a bit inconvenient - especially if there's an attack in the middle of it.
Better than figuring it out after he's activated it himself, he supposes.
no subject
"...mind you, I've had some real spectacular luck with it. Like. Getting sucked into another dimension by mistake kinda luck. Or my eyes gettin' burned out... not all the time!" she hastens to assure him. "But for me it's like, if it's gonna go wrong it's gonna go all the wrong. So middle of the column wouldn't be the best place."
It's fine, everything is fine. They are both very reasonable, mature, sensible magic-botherers.
no subject
“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.
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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?"
no subject
After taking a hawkish glance at the forest around them, he nods.
"Yeah. Need me to do anything?"
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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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
She braces one foot behind her, ready. Saturday has several questions and quite a lot of invective for Guts, for whoever made this armor, for whoever told him to use the armor, for whoever has let him keep using the armor, but that can all wait. Every hair on her neck is sticking straight up, for all the beast on his back is smiling sweetly.
"Come get some, if you think you're hard enough," she tells it. "The only person dyin' here is gonna be you, if you cross me."
no subject
"The hell is going on?" Guts calls out, unsure if Saturday can even hear his voice. He grits his teeth to tamp down on the seething, vicious thing inside him. It was growing agitated, but he was the one in control here, damnit.
---
"Strike me then!" the beast roars, opening its mouth wide.
Saliva drips from its jaws as it prowls forward, chains rattling around it. Her anger excites it even further, eye glinting like a feeble flame hungry for the kindling in front of it. Yes. This would do nicely.
It was talking a big game, but its movements betray it as a bound and starved animal. It leaps forward recklessly, desperately snapping its jaws at her leg. Blood, blood is what it wanted! Whether or not it'd be hurt in the process seemed to be of no concern the creature.
no subject
"Nah. That'd get Guts going, right? And you don't go til he says you go, do ya? You go wild once he lets you out, but you can't go out til he opens the door."
She drops her hands, and her fighting stance. "I think I got this, Guts. Just keep a lid on the thing while we chat."
"Okay, buddy," she says to the junkyard dog - which is how she's starting to see it, almost, all cracked teeth and protruding bone. "So this is how it's gonna work. When Guts lets you out, I'm gonna be steering. An' you're gonna be cool with it, because if you're not, you're never coming out of that armor ever again. Guts won't let you. I know he won't. 'Cause if there's one thing he won't tolerate, it's rude fucking assholes thinking they're the boss of him. Right, dude?"
She's talking to Guts, now.
no subject
The beast snarls at her, furious. It struggles against its chains, wishing nothing more than to gorge on the flesh and blood its been denied for months! It gnaws on a chain with its rows of endless jagged teeth, but the effort was futile.
All it can truly do is lie down in wait, but for now, it refuses to slink away. It struggles furiously against its bonds.
"Your time will come, wretch," it seethes, "The day will come when I am free!"
"Better listen to her," Guts interrupts. No time to think about doubts. He just had to trust Saturday and follow her lead. "You already yap too much as it is. Really getting on my nerves."
no subject
"An' I don't think you ever will be free, is the thing," she says, switching her attention back to the animal straining at its leash. "You're pretty well stuck to that armor, aintcha? Must drive you crazy, knowin' your fate ain't yours to decide. Just a servant, a slave, bound to a thing that could easily be destroyed or lost or forgotten. No wonder you lose your head when you get a little freedom."
The hint of sympathy there isn't feigned. It's an evil thing, all hate and bile and death, but - everything wants to be free, to be able to choose. To fight or run, live or die, kill or be killed. Struggle or give in. Even things that can't be allowed to go free. Just one of those funny little cosmic jokes.
"But you know," she continues. "This ain't the time to stage a rebellion. Take a look around next time you're on the rig. The people here, we could make short work of you; you're nothing we haven't seen before. Maybe you were the baddest bitch in town back in Gut's metaplane, but here? First time you cause problems, you're gone," she says, with a snap of her fingers. "Ripped into so much astral debris, or dropped in a hole so deep you ain't never gettin' out. Stop an' think," she tells it. "You're savage, but I don't think you're stupid."
no subject
The beast's form becomes more canine in appearance as it calms itself. A lean coal and ash body with a long maw like a sighthound. Its teeth were hidden in its jaws at last. Its whip-like tail stood straight up, alert and unyielding. It seemed to be more guarded than purely aggressive, now.
"So confident. I wonder what she will think... once she finds the truth of things?"
It wags its tail with interest.
For Guts, this is an odd conversation Saturday was having. It's true, the thing could manifest only through the armor on the physical plane, but it still felt frighteningly real in his head. When he spoke to it, it felt like he was speaking to himself. He wasn't sure what to make of it, whatever the hell it was.
Let them get closer to you, it's all the more to lose.
"Shut up. Not even a day's passed I'm already sick of you," he growls back to the hound, lacking any sympathy at all. "Beat it."
these techniques are not actually good dog training but it's an astral hellhound sue me
"I don't have all the information yet," she continues. "Dunno exactly what you are, though I get the general idea. Dunno how tied you are to Guts. But I do know one thing."
And now she advances on the astral thing, which she sees as slightly to Guts' left. The sinister side.
"Guts is a good person. If you work like the other things I've met, an' I think you do, the only real power you got is convincin' him that he ain't. As long as he's got a reason to resist you, he will. And I will make sure he always does have a reason, because things like you annoy the hell out of me."
She crouches in front of the demon-hound, and fast as a snake grabs its muzzle in both hands, glaring into its pale eyes without blinking. Not a demand for submission, yet, but it could become one very quickly.
"So play. fucking. nice. Capiche?"
(tw for awful gore dream)
A shadowy smoke envelops them both, darkening into a vision of the beast free of its bonds. This form stands upright, massive and hunched forward, left arm made of jagged iron. An ethereal version of Saturday appears in the vision as well, thrust into a heated battle as it desired. The fighting and spilling of its own blood made the beast feel alive.
Eventually, it leaps to pin her dream-self down beneath its black-furred bulk, quicker than a large thing should be. Her sword arm is wrenched free with a furious thrashing of its jaws, leaving what it wanted intact. The thing keeps their bodies pressed together, possessive of its struggling prey. It is warm from blood-mottled fur and body heat. Metal claws rake slowly over skin and cloth, splitting open flesh with careful ease. It is a grotesque mockery of intimacy in a pool of wet viscera. Its maw drips hungrily as it begins to feast on its spoils, flesh and bone crunching in its teeth.
"It is only a matter of time...."
When the illusion ends, the hound has vanished. It had slithered quietly back into the dark from where it came, chains rattling behind it.
Guts tries not to look shaken, remaining dead silent as he stares emptily ahead. His hand is clenched so tightly he would have broken skin were it not for the wrappings. As much as Saturday seemed to be handling it, he can't help but feel consumed with a deep dread. The creature had been so dormant on Elfhelm, its return was like a cruel, dizzying whiplash.
no subject
So she smooths out every last hint of hesitation, smiles with the full solar force of her charm, and pats his shoulder.
"That went well, I think."
no subject
"This was reckless. I shouldn't have thrust this on you so suddenly."
He would have never said any such thing two years ago - it was a complete contradiction given his fighting style - but the thought of her being hurt because of him... It wasn't just upsetting. It felt monstrous.
No, he'd been too naive. Stupid. Saturday was her own person, he knew that, but the creature wasn't a thing made of reason. Of course it would take a special glee in getting its fangs into her. It was a barely caged mess of emotions - and some part of him... wanted...
He crosses his arms as he turns his back to her, hiding the way his good hand was digging into the flesh of his other arm beneath his cloak. It takes a moment for him to relax himself.
"It would be better if we find someone else to do this. I can manage until then."
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