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rhodos_meme2022-08-10 10:12 am
rhodosmods) wrote in rhodos_meme2022-08-10 10:12 am
Entry tags:
TDM #1
TDM #1: AUGUST
Jump to: Arrival · Sound and Light · Into the Fog · Waking Up to a Nightmare · The Bonfire
Summary · Questions
Summary · Questions
The buildings of the plaza are all medieval stone construction, but they all have modern awnings and glass fronts. Tables out front display tourist wares: little plastic statuettes, postcards, t-shirts. Among these, it's easy to identify Greek lettering, Greek gods, photos of Athens and Crete. Predominant among the souvenirs are items marked with the name Rhodos.
But there are no vendors selling their wares. Even if characters wander into the shops, they are all empty as if their owners just stepped away for a moment. Lights are on, and some of the larger and nicer shops even have the whirr of air conditioning. Food stands waft the aroma of freshly grilled kebabs, and a gelato cart is cold to the touch and the ice cream inside is frosty and delicious.
The plaza where you arrive is set on a slope, and the direction of the sea breeze and the faint sound of waves against a shore indicates pretty strongly that down-slope is the direction of the sea. But looking down the slope from the main plaza, you can see an open archway in a tall stone wall, and beyond it is nothing but mist. Despite the clear sunny day in the plaza, the mist is a dense fog with barely three feet of visibility. If you enter it, you can see your own arms in front of you, but nothing beyond that. The breeze has gone still and the waves no longer sound so much like waves--the sound is warped through the mist so that it almost sounds like sobbing. After about five minutes of determined walking across what feels like flat ground with no other landmarks, you find yourself back at the archway.
Housing can easily be scavenged. Doors are unlocked and the interiors are clean and welcoming, beds freshly made, as if it is a hotel that's been prepared for you rather than anyone's personal residence. And yet, once you've settled upon a place to live, you start to find little signs that you have lived here all along. The photographs on the wall (which weren't there when you first arrived) depict you and your family and friends, even if you came from a world without photography. Upon arrival, you have only the clothing you are wearing, but within a day the closet begins to fill with familiar outfits from home, and within the first week you may find up to five of your own possessions around your new residence.
Note: Wardrobe is limited to what you can reasonably fit inside a non-walk-in apartment closet, what your character would reasonably wear and possess in canon, or what can be scavenged around town. There are two very small clothing boutiques where you can find most basics and a few cute outfits. For starting possessions two may be weapons or magical items, but you may have an additional three mundane items. All other personal items can only be obtained through regains or events.
The first few days in your new home are relatively uneventful. The days are hot and sunny and the nights are warm beneath a dazzling starry sky.
After not quite a week, the noises of a spectacle will lead characters to a small gate in one of the outer walls with steps leading down into the outer moat. The fog surrounding the city walls has drawn back for just this one little area, revealing an open air theater butting up against the castle wall. A path leads away from the theater on either side, but if you walk into the mist on either side you will promptly find yourself walking out of the mist on the opposite side, as if you'd circumnavigated the entire moat in just a few steps. Behind the theater is another high stone wall. Centuries of weathering has added rough footholds and handholds, but it would be a dangerous climb without equipment. Trees grow from the top of the wall, sticking limbs out of the wall of mist and clawing roots into the stones at the top, loosening them so that they're ready to slip at a touch.
The play that is projected onto the wall features shadow puppets, colored lights, and canned soundtrack special effects like the clop of horses hooves or the burst of trumpets. There is no dialogue or narration, so the story can only be roughly pieced together: there is a king and a queen, then a betrayal that leads to the king's murder. Later, the king and the queen appear again, participating in a ritual which seems to involve human sacrifice, a war and a triumphal procession, and then another betrayal and the king is murdered again.
The story repeats three times every night before shutting itself off. The first performance starts at twilight, and each repetition lasts about twenty minutes. Characters who watch it repeatedly will get the sense that it's slightly different each time, but the whole thing is complicated and confusing without any narration or dialogue to provide context, so characters will struggle to pin down how it's different. A slide projector is set up at the top of the amphitheater, with a pair of old speakers on either side of it. If slides are removed from the projector, they show only blank, uncolored plastic. If something is placed in front of the projector light, the scene is projected onto that object. The projector can be turned off, unplugged, or smashed. No matter what is done to it, as soon as no one is actively watching it, it is restored to an undamaged status and resumes playing.
After watching an entire repetition of the performance, some characters may be overcome by a fit of weeping. Tears roll down your cheeks and you can't seem to catch your breath. Despair clutches at your heart, colored by your own personal sorrows, and the weeping can only be stopped by receiving an embrace.
Others may find that the performance inspires them to reminisce. No matter how secretive you might normally be, you find yourself turning to whoever is sitting near you and telling them a story from your past, something that makes you nostalgic or regretful.
After not quite a week, the noises of a spectacle will lead characters to a small gate in one of the outer walls with steps leading down into the outer moat. The fog surrounding the city walls has drawn back for just this one little area, revealing an open air theater butting up against the castle wall. A path leads away from the theater on either side, but if you walk into the mist on either side you will promptly find yourself walking out of the mist on the opposite side, as if you'd circumnavigated the entire moat in just a few steps. Behind the theater is another high stone wall. Centuries of weathering has added rough footholds and handholds, but it would be a dangerous climb without equipment. Trees grow from the top of the wall, sticking limbs out of the wall of mist and clawing roots into the stones at the top, loosening them so that they're ready to slip at a touch.
The story repeats three times every night before shutting itself off. The first performance starts at twilight, and each repetition lasts about twenty minutes. Characters who watch it repeatedly will get the sense that it's slightly different each time, but the whole thing is complicated and confusing without any narration or dialogue to provide context, so characters will struggle to pin down how it's different. A slide projector is set up at the top of the amphitheater, with a pair of old speakers on either side of it. If slides are removed from the projector, they show only blank, uncolored plastic. If something is placed in front of the projector light, the scene is projected onto that object. The projector can be turned off, unplugged, or smashed. No matter what is done to it, as soon as no one is actively watching it, it is restored to an undamaged status and resumes playing.
After watching an entire repetition of the performance, some characters may be overcome by a fit of weeping. Tears roll down your cheeks and you can't seem to catch your breath. Despair clutches at your heart, colored by your own personal sorrows, and the weeping can only be stopped by receiving an embrace.
Others may find that the performance inspires them to reminisce. No matter how secretive you might normally be, you find yourself turning to whoever is sitting near you and telling them a story from your past, something that makes you nostalgic or regretful.
CONTENT WARNING: Cruelty and violence against (monster) dogs
After the characters have been in Rhodos for about three weeks, a heavy fog rolls into town. Unlike the mist that surrounds the city, the fog smells of smoke. Visibility is reduced to a mere ten or fifteen feet.
The electricity goes out, and shops are no longer replenished. Food may still be scavenged, but the food in shops and restaurants will slowly rot and may run out. Battery operated items will continue to work as long as the batteries still have a charge. Running water inside the houses continues to work, but it is sluggish and smells stale, leaving an unpleasant film on the skin.
While out on the streets of the town, characters will begin to encounter the monster dogs of Rhodos. The sound of a dragging chain precedes them, and then the hazy outline of a dog comes into view. It's walking oddly, however, with a sort of staggering limp, and the sound of the chain is underlaid by a low, feral growl. Furless gray skin peels away in patches to reveal bloody muscle. The heavy iron collar around the neck is studded with long black screws, the ends of which pierce the skin of the neck. Hazy eyes are clouded with decomposition, and yet that doesn't seem to prevent the dog from making its way straight toward you.
The dogs are not very fast, nor very smart. They can be outpaced at a brisk walk, and they will lose track of any character who gets more than twenty feet away or behind a closed door. But they are vicious. If you get within a few feet, they will lunge at you and attempt to bite. If two or three of them manage to corner you in a blind alley, you could be in real trouble.
In addition to the dogs, characters will begin to catch glimpses of Manifestations, both their own or those of others. At first you might just catch a glimpse of them through a break in the fog, but after a day or two they can be spotted standing outside of apartment windows and staring in. In either case, they will not approach or attack characters unless you're foolish enough to get within six feet of them. Then, they will attack, and they will pursue at a fast walk until they lose track of you in the fog.
After the characters have been in Rhodos for about three weeks, a heavy fog rolls into town. Unlike the mist that surrounds the city, the fog smells of smoke. Visibility is reduced to a mere ten or fifteen feet.
The electricity goes out, and shops are no longer replenished. Food may still be scavenged, but the food in shops and restaurants will slowly rot and may run out. Battery operated items will continue to work as long as the batteries still have a charge. Running water inside the houses continues to work, but it is sluggish and smells stale, leaving an unpleasant film on the skin.
The dogs are not very fast, nor very smart. They can be outpaced at a brisk walk, and they will lose track of any character who gets more than twenty feet away or behind a closed door. But they are vicious. If you get within a few feet, they will lunge at you and attempt to bite. If two or three of them manage to corner you in a blind alley, you could be in real trouble.
In addition to the dogs, characters will begin to catch glimpses of Manifestations, both their own or those of others. At first you might just catch a glimpse of them through a break in the fog, but after a day or two they can be spotted standing outside of apartment windows and staring in. In either case, they will not approach or attack characters unless you're foolish enough to get within six feet of them. Then, they will attack, and they will pursue at a fast walk until they lose track of you in the fog.
CONTENT WARNING: Blood imagery
On the 28th, characters are awakened by the sound of their front doors being smashed in. It's your own smashing door that awakens you, but you can hear more distant sounds of destruction from the other apartments nearby.
As you scramble out of your bed, you find that the homey, quilted bedding has been soaked through with blood, and it's sagging in the middle with the outline of a human body. But before you have a chance to properly react to that horror, your Manifestation is coming through your bedroom door — more than one of them, if you were sharing that bed with anyone.
You will have to fight or dodge in order to get out of the room. Your Manifestation is out for your blood. You can do damage to it, creating deep wounds and heavy bruises, causing it to stagger and slow for a moment, but no matter how much damage you do it keeps coming for you. Sooner or later, you will need to run.
When you make it out into the streets, you'll find that the entire world has changed. Heavy darkness fills the city, and no stars are visible in the sky. A few lights glow despite the lack of electricity, but they only provide a sickly, red-tinted light. Streets are slick with something that looks like blood, and the stone walls in many places have been transformed into metal or grate. Through the grate, you can catch glimpses of black metal hooks and gory, dripping meat that looks human in origin.
There is no palatable food or water. Anything you have saved has rotted or changed unnaturally into what looks like rotting flesh or lumps of bile. Liquid has turned into blood or black water. The only mercy is that symptoms of hunger, thirst and fatigue stabilize after 24 hours and don't get any worse. Don't worry, it won't be the dehydration that kills you here.
Your Manifestation pursues you tirelessly, and the monster dogs are faster, smarter, and moving in packs. Your home is no longer safe, and staying on the streets is deadly.
On the 28th, characters are awakened by the sound of their front doors being smashed in. It's your own smashing door that awakens you, but you can hear more distant sounds of destruction from the other apartments nearby.
As you scramble out of your bed, you find that the homey, quilted bedding has been soaked through with blood, and it's sagging in the middle with the outline of a human body. But before you have a chance to properly react to that horror, your Manifestation is coming through your bedroom door — more than one of them, if you were sharing that bed with anyone.
You will have to fight or dodge in order to get out of the room. Your Manifestation is out for your blood. You can do damage to it, creating deep wounds and heavy bruises, causing it to stagger and slow for a moment, but no matter how much damage you do it keeps coming for you. Sooner or later, you will need to run.
There is no palatable food or water. Anything you have saved has rotted or changed unnaturally into what looks like rotting flesh or lumps of bile. Liquid has turned into blood or black water. The only mercy is that symptoms of hunger, thirst and fatigue stabilize after 24 hours and don't get any worse. Don't worry, it won't be the dehydration that kills you here.
Your Manifestation pursues you tirelessly, and the monster dogs are faster, smarter, and moving in packs. Your home is no longer safe, and staying on the streets is deadly.
CONTENT WARNING: Body horror, immolation
Sooner or later, you find your way to the bonfire in the middle of the fountain square. There is no longer water in the fountain. Instead, the whole thing towers with flame, fueled by a viscous black substance in the basin.
A tall man stands by the fountain, gazing into the flames as if he is supervising. His suit is true black, fathomless black, while his skin is a dark red-black like the newly formed crust upon a lava flow. His eyes are black pools reflecting the flames. He takes no interest in any approaching characters, and will not respond to any questions. The only thing that will draw his attention to you is an attempted attack. If you try it, your blow lands, but he doesn't seem to take any damage. His head turns toward you and he considers you for a moment, as if he finds it intriguing that you would attempt such a thing. Then he returns his attention to the fire.
The dogs and the Manifestations will not pursue you into the circle of light cast by the bonfire. You can find a sort of respite here.
Time passes. It feels like days, though there is no way to mark the passage of time. The Dark Figure continues to supervise the bonfire.
At last, your attention is drawn to a sort of commotion approaching down one of the main streets that feeds into the plaza. You hear a rattling of metal, and a sort of gibbering moan. The bonfire illuminates first upon a pale, faceless figure which seems to writhe as it approaches, hovering above the paving stones. As it grows closer, you see that the figure is lashed to a square metal frame and bound with strips of barbed wire. Veiled figures on either side bear it forward, and the Dark Figure turns to watch it approach.
The figure upon the frame has no face and no mouth with which to make its agonized moans, but it continues nonetheless. It has limbs but no hands or feet, each limb ending in smooth stumps.
If no one interferes, the Handmaidens carry the frame forward and place it upon the fire.
The Handmaidens can be attacked, and hurt. They cry out indignantly at any attack, and recoil. They will not fight back, but they also will not be discouraged from their task by anything less than persistent violence.
If the pale figure on the frame is rescued by the player characters, it flails and gibbers helplessly, continuing to moan. If the pale figure is consigned to the flames, it begins to scream, and continues screaming for several minutes until the flame finally overcomes it.
In either situation, you begin to cough. Blood spills from your mouth, dribbling down your chin and spattering upon your clothing. But then the droplets begin to slither into letters, forming words that spell out your deepest guilt, in the words you yourself would use to describe it. No attempt to wipe the words away or cover them will prevent their legibility. The blood shines through whatever covers it, catching the firelight so that those around you can clearly read the words.
The Dark Figure and his Handmaidens made their exit while you were coughing. You are left alone with the other Tourists around you, your guilt, and whatever remains of the pale figure upon the frame.
Sooner or later, you find your way to the bonfire in the middle of the fountain square. There is no longer water in the fountain. Instead, the whole thing towers with flame, fueled by a viscous black substance in the basin.
A tall man stands by the fountain, gazing into the flames as if he is supervising. His suit is true black, fathomless black, while his skin is a dark red-black like the newly formed crust upon a lava flow. His eyes are black pools reflecting the flames. He takes no interest in any approaching characters, and will not respond to any questions. The only thing that will draw his attention to you is an attempted attack. If you try it, your blow lands, but he doesn't seem to take any damage. His head turns toward you and he considers you for a moment, as if he finds it intriguing that you would attempt such a thing. Then he returns his attention to the fire.
The dogs and the Manifestations will not pursue you into the circle of light cast by the bonfire. You can find a sort of respite here.
At last, your attention is drawn to a sort of commotion approaching down one of the main streets that feeds into the plaza. You hear a rattling of metal, and a sort of gibbering moan. The bonfire illuminates first upon a pale, faceless figure which seems to writhe as it approaches, hovering above the paving stones. As it grows closer, you see that the figure is lashed to a square metal frame and bound with strips of barbed wire. Veiled figures on either side bear it forward, and the Dark Figure turns to watch it approach.
The figure upon the frame has no face and no mouth with which to make its agonized moans, but it continues nonetheless. It has limbs but no hands or feet, each limb ending in smooth stumps.
If no one interferes, the Handmaidens carry the frame forward and place it upon the fire.
The Handmaidens can be attacked, and hurt. They cry out indignantly at any attack, and recoil. They will not fight back, but they also will not be discouraged from their task by anything less than persistent violence.
If the pale figure on the frame is rescued by the player characters, it flails and gibbers helplessly, continuing to moan. If the pale figure is consigned to the flames, it begins to scream, and continues screaming for several minutes until the flame finally overcomes it.
In either situation, you begin to cough. Blood spills from your mouth, dribbling down your chin and spattering upon your clothing. But then the droplets begin to slither into letters, forming words that spell out your deepest guilt, in the words you yourself would use to describe it. No attempt to wipe the words away or cover them will prevent their legibility. The blood shines through whatever covers it, catching the firelight so that those around you can clearly read the words.
The Dark Figure and his Handmaidens made their exit while you were coughing. You are left alone with the other Tourists around you, your guilt, and whatever remains of the pale figure upon the frame.
Arrival: August 1
Sound and Light: August 5-20
Into the Fog: August 21-27
Waking Up to a Nightmare: August 28-30
The Bonfire: August 31
Welcome to Rhodos! Going forward, events will take place in two parts. The Normal World part of the event posted on the 5th of each month, and it will be a lighter event both in terms of length and thematic content. TDMs will be bi-monthly and will feature an event element or elements for the Normal World which in-game characters may also play with on their own log posts. The sections on Fog and Nightmare worlds for the TDM will generally be the same every month, allowing players to test drive those elements if they'd like, but not including spoilers for the second part of that month's event. The second part of the event will be posted on the 20th of each month, covering events occurring through both the Fog and Nightmare cycles.
Test drive memes are considered game canon.
This won't always be the case, but for the nerds among you who are enjoying this sometimes-accurate tour of Rhodes, all location images in this TDM and housing are accurate to Rhodes.
Lastly, we are in need of mods! We're most in need of help for processing apps and activity. If we aren't able to get some additional mods, we will have to place a cap on applications, and we're hoping we won't have to do that. If you're interested, please send us a message over on the mod contact page. We've gotten the mod volunteers we needed so we should be all clear to proceed without an applications cap. Thank you to everyone who showed interest!
Sound and Light: August 5-20
Into the Fog: August 21-27
Waking Up to a Nightmare: August 28-30
The Bonfire: August 31
Welcome to Rhodos! Going forward, events will take place in two parts. The Normal World part of the event posted on the 5th of each month, and it will be a lighter event both in terms of length and thematic content. TDMs will be bi-monthly and will feature an event element or elements for the Normal World which in-game characters may also play with on their own log posts. The sections on Fog and Nightmare worlds for the TDM will generally be the same every month, allowing players to test drive those elements if they'd like, but not including spoilers for the second part of that month's event. The second part of the event will be posted on the 20th of each month, covering events occurring through both the Fog and Nightmare cycles.
Test drive memes are considered game canon.
This won't always be the case, but for the nerds among you who are enjoying this sometimes-accurate tour of Rhodes, all location images in this TDM and housing are accurate to Rhodes.
Larry Samuel | Original Character
[Upon waking, Larry can instantly tell things are Wrong. He sits bolt upright and checks himself, feeling at his limbs and hands.] Ah shit. Ah hell. Okay. Okay this is happening. Okay cool great cool okay. [His hands fly up to his mask, still securely in place. Then, hesitantly, they reach under it. His breath hitches for a moment.] coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool.
[Larry jumps to his feet, promptly trips on his own limbs, and barely gets his hands up in time to keep himself from falling face first into the stone.] Good day. Great day. Loving this.
[Maybe he should just lie here. Face down. Wait for whatever madness that he's gotten roped into to settle down. That's how it always works, right? Do absolutely nothing and things just happen. Yeah. That's generally how it goes. Still lying face down, he reaches up and grips at his hood with trembling hands, his breath coming in shaky and fast through his teeth. It's temporary. All things pass. No exceptions. He'll lie here and wait for it to be done.]
ii. Sound and...
[Larry paces back and forth next to the projector. He's sat and watched this strange, inconsistent little play a half dozen times. It freaks him out to watch, but not enough to stop watching, but it freaks him out nonetheless. He hates the way it makes his chest tighten and tears spring up without his permission. He takes the discomfort as a personal challenge.]
[Art is communication. It's one person's thoughts, emotions, feelings rendered into something tangible. This show is a message, one whose translation he can't quite piece together. And a message can be replied to.]
[Anyone watching the shadow theater will find the show suddenly distinctly interrupted as the lumpy shadow of a wolf edges in and eats the king, and mimes howling to the sky as armies rush in around it. Larry's not as used to making shadow puppets this way, but then again he's never cared about making his art exceptionally polished, either.]
iii. Nightmare
[Larry had often felt as though he'd been born in the wrong genre--like he didn't exist on the same wavelength as everyone else around him. It was little comfort to know now that he could have been a far, far worse fit. Case in point.]
[An iron cage encircles the head of the monstrosity stepping through his ruined doorway, metal thorns pointing out in every direction and glowing white with sourceless heat. Despite the inability to make out any part of its face, Larry's stomach wrenches in recognition.]
NOPE.
[A discordant note echoes out from the shattered doorway. Then another, and another. Larry reels his spiked banjo back for another hit, but overbalances and staggers as the Manifestation lunges out at him--his body isn't moving right, and claws caked in viscous black liquid rip at his side. A yell strangles in his throat as he kicks his attacker in the gut, and scrambles for the door. It's not like Larry's never gone toe to toe with a shambling juggernaut before, but usually he can out-unstoppable-force it. Nothing about this thing, or even Larry right now, is as usual. He needs space, he needs to recalibrate, he needs backup--]
[Larry barely stops short of another individual fleeing their home. The realization of the scope of things only just starts to spark in his brain as their own Manifestation appears in the doorway.]
Oh sweet it's not just me. [He does his level best to sound blithely disinterested, even with his voice hitched with pain. His grip tightens on the neck of his banjo.] What's up, you do fighting?
iv. Wildcard
[drop another prompt or hit me up at
i
As it is, he feels like he could be forgiven for mistaken the man lying on the ground as a lump of discarded clothing. He makes his way over and gives the lump a light prod with his shoe, only to confirm there is, in fact, a person inside there.
(It was actually obvious, but Azul is kind of a dick.)]
Hello? Are you in need of medical assistance?
[Because Azul sure can't give it, but he's a busybody, and anyway maybe focusing on someone else's panic will keep him from panicking instead - namely about why he can't cast magic anymore.]
no subject
[Larry gives a cursory grunt of acknowledgement at the nudge, and doesn't move.]
No. [He pauses, reconsidering.] Probably not. [There is probably some type of biological expert who would have a lot to say about Larry's situation, but he suspected a doctor was not precisely the right person to start with.]
Fit as a fiddle, here. Never better. Obviously.
[He is still face down on the ground, for the record.]
no subject
[Azul lifts his eyes from the lump on the ground to look around again. There isn't anyone immediately visible other than the other people who woke up in the plaza, which is eerie, but he hasn't fully panicked yet. It's a nice, sunny day, after all, and the smell of the sea calms him down a bit.]
If you want to stay here and start to mildew I suppose you can, but I think it would be better to try and find some information about where we are and how we got here.
[Assuming Larry is not a local, which he doesn't, because he's shown up in the same place with all the other confused people around them.]
no subject
[The petty, petulant part of him says that he should just keep lying on the floor out of spite. Definitely spite, and not avoidance. Unfortunately, the part of him that's cursed with common sense knows he can only put this off so long, and continuing this sulk will only put him more out of the loop.]
Yeah. I guess. Scavenger hunt. For info. Cool.
[Slowly, inelegantly, Larry begins the process of getting up--first pulling his knees under his still-prone torso, before pushing himself up enough to properly plant his feet, and then finally rising to stand to his full, considerable height. It's hard to tell if it took so much time with it out of reluctance, or physical need.]
So, what. They got a help desk here, you think?
no subject
Though not as big a change as getting used to feet.]
There do seem to be areas for tourists... including map stands and kitschy souvenirs. [He sniffs, half disapproving of the tacky items and approving of the blatant capitalism.] Scouting out this area would probably be the best place to start.
no subject
[Now that he's actually up, everything felt so damn light he might just start vibrating if he doesn't keep himself moving. Do people always have this much energy? How do they stand it? Larry bounces on the balls of his feet, glancing around, before finally heading off in a random direction to start the search.]
I'm going this way. You uh. Got a name? I'm Larry. You coming?
no subject
[It's as good a direction as any, while they have no knowledge of why they're here. So he follows along.]
I'm Azul Ashengrotto. Owner of the Mostro Lounge, and presently housewarden of the Octavinelle dorm at Night Raven College.
[He says this like it's impressive, because in his world it kind of is. Not just anyone gets into NRC (or at least that's what they say).]
It is nice to meet you, Mr. Larry.
i
The really bad part is not being able to touch other peoples' minds. She doesn't know what's up with them. The omnipresent background murmur of thoughts and feelings is silent, she doesn't even have a bearer. It makes everything feel unreal. Dissociated. Still, she's the kind of person who doesn't just ignore someone writhing around and then collapsing to lie prone.
Need looks like the big, tall, heavily scarred old smith that she was once, with that huge faded snarling boar tattoo on her chest peeking just above her leather apron. It had some significance once that she does not remember.]
You... [whoah okay talking is going to be more of an issue. She'd forgotten that her voice could be that deep. She vaguely recalls now that people tended to think she was a man, and this tended to bother her. Need modulates her voice, tries to get it to sound something like the psychic one she's used. Still low, still gravelly, not quite as audible beef.] Hnn.
[She folds her arms and looks at him. Maybe she'll keep to short statements for a bit, until she can get used to speaking this way.] Hurt, or overwhelmed?
no subject
Latter. [He takes a shaky breath.] Very latter.
[He turns his head just enough for his mask to peek up at the imposing figure looming over him.] Just gotta... adjust. Don't mind me.
no subject
Hunh. Try holding your knees to your chest and tucking your head into them. It's a self-soothing position.
[Need doesn't grimace, purely because she's not really done facial expressions for three or four millennia. Did her voice always sound like this? Some of this must be that sound from her throat is picked up directly by her ear, she's well aware that no one sounds the same to themselves as they do to others. Not all of it.
None of this can be real. She can't feel anyone, or even her own magic. Just one body and set of senses, and only her own thoughts.]
no subject
[Don't worry, Need, that's just the kind of thing Larry says when he's learning new things. With a sigh, he turns his head back down to the floor. He takes a deep breath. He holds it. He lets it out. Then, slowly, he lifts his butt up enough to pull his legs up under his chest.]
[For a long few seconds he lies like that, gone from fully prone face down on the floor to fetal position face down on the floor. He takes a few more breaths, trying to slow his brain down.]
You do this a lot? Helping out weirdos lying on the ground?
no subject
Hah. I don't -
[She falls silent, realizing there are two responses that came to mind at once and she can't just say them at the same time. Realizing also, and this is stranger, that she doesn't have to deflect or tell a half truth, she could lie and there'd be no sign.
Well, maybe. It can be obvious if someone's lying.]
I don't seem to have much else to do. Usually my 'weirdos' are female, at least partly.
no subject
[At least his body automatically knows how to breathe, but it still takes Larry conscious effort to slow it down. He's doing his best not to think too hard about all the alien sensations, of his chest expanding, of warm air rushing down his throat, of the little buzzing vibrations in his neck when he speaks. He folds in tighter to his legs.]
You're uh. You're catching me on a... a bad day. I don't usually... [exist] ...freak out. Like this. So. Thanks.
no subject
Sure. Not the best day in general, I don't think.
[:/ Need is not going to say that she's supposed to be an intangible and highly psychic/magic spirit pinned to an ancient sword and is thrown. Helping someone else feels grounding.]
Try keeping that pose while sitting. Close your eyes if that helps. Looking at you makes my joints hurt.
no subject
Far be it from me to add to your discomfort.
[He says that, but continues lying face down for a moment longer as he braces himself. Then he rolls onto his side, still curled up. Then, Larry starts trying to nudge himself upright by pushing against the floor with his elbow. He might be making a bigger fuss of the process than necessary.]
So uh. urf. This uh. This might hrgg sound weird but uh hang on, hup-- [Finally Larry gets himself sitting upright, barely managing to stop himself from toppling right over in the other direction.] Okay. I don't, uh, I don't totally remember how I. Got here? And uh. I dunno. If you know anything about... that.
(no subject)
3
No time for talking! Follow me!
[Hunter begins to bolt away from their respective apartments, only glancing back once to see if his fellow masked individual is also following suit.]
no subject
You got a plan, kid? Or are we just staying alive right now.
[With his long, lanky legs, Larry has to make a conscious effort not to run ahead of Hunter. Well, not that big an effort with the stinging from his side, but for now the adrenaline is keeping him plenty revved up.]
I'm just saying, because I'm not a--a plan guy. So if you have one that'd be rad. If not, staying alive is also. Also rad.
no subject
I- we can't fight them.
[He doesn't elaborate why.]
Outrunning them is our only option, but we can't run forever. We climb a tree, catch our breath, and then formulate a long-term plan.
[Or he formulates a long-term plan, since his new compatriot is not a plan guy.]
no subject
[Larry roughly shoves Hunter aside as a lance of dark ichor shoots out at them from behind. Uncle Gooey back there doesn't seem content to just chasing. As little as Larry likes fighting long-range, he likes things attacking kids less.]
Spitballing ideas here: I'll get you some space, you find a spot and I'll meet you there probably. 'Kay cool three two one break. [Swinging his banjo like a large out of tune baseball bat, Larry deflects another lob of slime and splatters it across the ground.] YO UGLY, KNOCK IT OFF.
Nightmares
Does it look like I'm sitting on my ass?
no subject
[Because to Larry's eyes Percy very much looks like he is shooting a normal guy who's just really good at taking bullets, which in his very personal opinion feels pretty unfair compared to the faceless man-wolf-thing wrapped in hot barbed wire and sweating ink out of its pores following him out into the hall. But hey who's judging, trauma isn't a competition.]
no subject
[Percy looks horrified for a moment and not at the creature but at the idea of having someone else touching his gun.]
Can you shoot?
no subject
[He holds up his banjo. Obviously just as deadly as a gun.]
You shoot my freak, I'll take care of yours.
no subject
[Percy nods, seeming not at all surprised at the choice of weapon. He then turns his gun on the strange monster and lines up a shot praying silently that his gun won't backfire]
Be careful he's fast.
[He nods his head at his Monstrosity.]
He's a vampire.......