You're probably woken up by the explosion first. A loud, deafening boom comes from behind the walls of the residential district. When you look outside your window towards the darker, more secretive area of the city, you might see the structure around it... crumbling, the land falling in on itself slowly but surely. That might be what wakes you up first. If it doesn't, you may be awoken instead by the sudden jerking feeling behind your navel pulling you from where you are to somewhere... else.
It's dark. The first thing you notice is that it's dark -- and then come the scrabbling sounds of creatures in the dark, like metal being dragged across metal, a chilling, sharp sound. The first thing that becomes clear, as your vision adjusts, is that you're on a rickety pathway, metal and rusting and frail, above what appears to be yawning blackness. Far, far below, there's the faint sound of rushing water, a ways away.
The second thing that becomes clear is that you are very much not alone. Something is out there with you, and from the screeching metallic noises that come ever closer, it seems to be stalking you.
Thankfully, you're not alone -- right?  ...
...........
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PHASE I [ ??? ] It’s drafty here. You’re below ground, that’s for certain from the echoes of the wind in the darkness. If you continue on forwards along the rickety, metal railing that serves as a walkway, the skittering noises of creatures in the dark follow -- but they don’t appear.
It seems everyone has been dumped along this pathway at random; you may be with friends, with enemies or with someone you’ve never met before, but either way, it soon becomes clear. There are only two ways to go along this path: up or down.
If you choose to take the path that follows a gradual slope down, the sounds of water lapping against a surface increase bit by bit, the air growing heavier and danker, until finally, the metallic platform gives way very suddenly (watch your step!) to a muddy bank. Down here, everything is darker, and not far away there’s the water. It’s cold and frigid and there are unfriendly creatures that await if you choose to delve into it. However, if you brave those creatures, and dive deeply enough, there is a mask. It rests half-buried by silt and rocks, but it’s there, and can be found by any intrepid explorers.
Somehow, it feels a little familiar.
And if you carry on in the cave system underground, eventually you will come across what appears to be an altar. There is blood on it -- not fresh, but not more than a month old -- and pieces of trinkets. Old bits of cloth, locks of hair, and some of them may even be familiar. Any dropped character who has a reasonably large amount of spiritual or magical power may have left scraps, such as pieces of clothing, trinkets, hair, or the sort behind at the altar.
Maybe that's why they weren't in the Nexus Code.
PHASE II [ ??? ] If you go up, you will eventually make your way above ground. It takes some time, and some luck -- you’ll have to avoid rusty railing and pathways, the path crumbling under you and that creeping sensation that something is following and watching you -- and then you’ll suddenly be in fresh air.
Well. It’s not so fresh, really.
The landscape is broken down and crumbled. It may have once been part of the city of Cerealia, but now it is in utter disrepair and decay. Buildings have crumbled, and debris is everywhere. There are signs of the same level of technology that Cerealia has -- but it is all broken down and utterly inaccessible.
And you’re not alone.
It seems the technology and metal and broken down destruction has gained sentience over its time sitting alone, waiting. And it is not happy to be disturbed. The creatures are made of pieces of everything around them, and when cut down, they’ll just slowly rebuild themselves from the debris.
It might be time to run.
They aren't happy about being disturbed, and you're in their way.
PHASE III [ ??? ] Above ground, there are a lot of broken down buildings.
Some can’t be accessed at all; some are too broken, too reduced to rubble. For those looking for shelter, they'll be able to find buildings where the doors can be forced open and they can camp out on the inside to various degrees of stability. Though the ceiling may cave in or the floor fall out from under you at a moment's notice, it's better than being out there. Be careful, because none of the architecture here can be trusted anymore.
And other buildings... are even less trustworthy than that.
There is a series of buildings in the midst of the wasteland, somehow still standing. They stand there silently, towering over the rest of the rubble in their two-story glory, and if the doors are forced open, it soon becomes clear that the building itself is full of mirrors.
Once, the mirrors had perhaps covered the walls and ceiling. Once, this building might have been akin to something of a ballet studio, somewhere to express yourself creatively. But now the mirrors are shattered and broken into pieces and the building lacks the joy it might have once held. Shards of mirror cover the floor, some big, some not so big, but they still hang from the walls as well and everywhere you look, you can see yourself.
And then, the reflection changes. From one blink to the next, you see a memory playing in the mirrors. Your memory. You’ll see a glimpse of one of your most traumatic or life-changing moments, broken up but clear in the shards. Blink and look away, and it’s gone, only to show up again in the next mirror a few moments later. Surely it’s just a trick of the light, right?
Except if someone else is with you, they’ll see it too -- and you might end up seeing a bit of their own past as well. Hope you're fond of sharing.
PHASE IV [ ??? ] If you survive the monsters, the crumbling landscape and the untrustworthy buildings, you may eventually find a terminal. It is buried deep among the rubble. One turn around a corner, one stumble into a hole, and you will find it. It sits there, out in the middle of nowhere; the building in which it used to be housed is apparently long gone, reduced to nothing but rubble.
And if you turn it on, there is a brief message.
Transmission Broadcasting.
Transmission Connected.
And then, there is a face.
BONUS [ ??? ] For those who have been wearing their masks a little too much, they might also start to notice that there are some strange effects attached, which worsen the more they’ve been wearing said masks. How badly they worsen is up to your discretion.
➝ Broken Mask: An intense feeling of paranoia, focused on whoever your character is with. They might also begin to remember fabricated memories of being betrayed by those people.
➝ Barcode Mask: Everything will begin to have value to them. There will be whispers in the back of their mind of the worth of their friends, the worth of a monster, the worth of everything around them. An intense need to own and consume as much as possible and as quickly as possible.
➝ Dripping Blood Mask: An intense lack of self-worth, a hollow feeling and thoughts of being weak and empty. Feeling as disposable as possible and an intense listless along with it.
➝ :( Mask: A need to prove yourself, to show everyone how strong you are as quickly as possible. You can do things, you can be of worth to everyone around you. Why won't they see that? Why?
➝ Ivy Mask: A choking sort of terror from all things metal and technology based, and a need to lash out against it. An intense distrust for anything that they feel is against the laws of nature.
➝ Grey Mask: More personable than normal, more emotional, more empathetic. An intense feeling of kindness and gratitude to those around you and a renewed love of life.
➝ Feather Mask: A dulled, lack of emotion. A detached feeling to everything around you. A sort of bland curiosity towards things without any empathetic reaction.
➝ Bloody Fingerprints Mask: They'll feel absolutely fine. No change.
The effects of the broken mask can stack on top of the others, if they chose to break their mask after the other effects began to appear. No other effects can be stacked, as no other changes can be stacked.
PENALTY [ ??? ] For characters who die while in the dark parts of the city, things will get... a little strange. They will die as normal, but they will wake up almost immediately after their death -- in the Nexus Code. They will have a few surreal moments to be there, to see their friends who have left Cerealia hanging lifelessly from odd, glimmering strands (though there are some faces, of course, that are missing, anyone who was spiritual, or magical, seems strangely absent) and then --
They’re back to being dead.
When characters revive in Cerealia, anywhere from one IC day to three or four IC days later, they will find that things are… not quite right with their code. They’re glitching, for a lack of a better word. Sometimes, their fingers will phase right through an object, their own limbs registering as cold and lifeless. Sometimes, they will see a face watching them -- but when they turn around to try to see who it is, the face will be gone.
These effects will last an IC week, before slowly things go back to normal.
That was strange.
[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ] |
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ota!
among the items, he picks up a red ribbon, as well as a scrap of faded blue cloth with white triangles. ]
These are familiar, aren’t they?
( phase ii )
so whether you're also fighting or not, he'll give you a light tap on the shoulder with one hand — far too casually for this predicament. in his other hand is his sword, still unsheathed, to fend off any particularly feisty monsters. ]
Come on— we shouldn't waste our energy here, right?
( phase iii )
there are dark silhouettes within the shattered mirrors: one, two, and then there are hundreds, more than you can possibly count in one sitting. they run from shard to shard to shard, but they’re not running fast enough.
hesitantly, he wills himself to look again; this time, there’s blood, a lot of blood, and the figures that were so full of movement before are lifelessly piled on top of each other. their faces are indiscernible, but of course he knows who these silhouettes are; of course he knows what this is, and what’s happening.
without a second thought, he’s already reaching for them, tugging at the broken fragments until his gloves are torn and his palms are streaked with his own blood, and his breath is coming in rapid gasps.
you could try to stop him! or, you could totally encourage him to keep going, if that’s your thing. ]
iii
[There's no denying that he's a stranger but Lili's immediately running when she sees him. It's a little scary, rushing toward someone she doesn't even know like this but there's something about the frantic way that he's clawing at the mirrors that overrides her fear.
She tries to fit herself between him and the mirror, her hands trying to catch his wrists so he doesn't pain himself further.]
What are you trying to do?!
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he looks at her, but it does take him a bit to actually look at her, to realize that she's there and in front of him. at the very least, she's managed to distract him from his task, even temporarily.
after a slow, shuddering breath, his words come out more calmly than expected, though there's still something desperate about the way he sounds. ]
I'm trying to save them. You'll help me, won't you?
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It takes her a moment to look past the blood on his fingers. His words stab her, causing an ache for someone that she doesn't even know. She knows that there are still horrific images behind her. It's clear to her that this is something important to him and it... hurts to realize there may be nothing capable of soothing his pain.
Tears prick at the edges of her eyes.]
I... We can't....
Please understand - you're just hurting yourself...
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iii
The mirrors facing Kousetsu show something that is similar as well. The death of a man he held very dear to him. Itebeoka lays unresponsive beneath a white sheet, his body placed before a gorgeous temple, but the mood and atmosphere is heavy at best. His concern right now is not directed at his own memories being shown however. ]
Tsurumaru-san...they are not really here. Please step away before you cause more harm to yourself.
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but it slowly breaks away from the mirror and towards kousetsu's face instead, as if trying to grip a hold onto what reality is, when the past is right there and very imminent, and how can it not be real?
yet, there's something pale about his expression, as he fails to do just that — to grasp the present. ]
What do you mean...? Kousetsu, let me go‐ I can't let them all die, this time—
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I will stay here, with you, so that you are not alone again. They are...gone Tsurumaru-san, they are not real. It is just a trick of these mirrors.
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ii
But he's extremely glad to see Tsuru. He's run into a few of their comrades already, but each familiar face eases a knot of tension in his chest, and he even manages to spare the other sword a smile. He's grimy and scratched up from crawling around underground, but for the moment, he's largely unharmed.]
Tsurumaru-san, I'm glad to see you. [He's breathing heavily, just a little--but the monster he's been fighting is busy reassembling, so he has a moment to talk.] I know, but I don't want it to attack anyone else...
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either way, tsurumaru returns the favor, giving him a bright grin. ] Yo, Namazuo. You're doing fine, right?
[ think about poor haruji's resources after this event... after every event, probably. he works hard. but at that mention, his gaze darts back over to the monster, who's slowly starting to put itself together again amongst the rubble and debris, and his grip on his sword tightens that much more. ]
If we fight it, we're gonna be stuck here forever — wouldn't it be smarter to trap it somewhere?
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I am! Are you? [Truthfully, he's getting a little tired, but he's still standing (for now), so he doesn't complain. He does sigh at Tsurumaru's words, though, casting a glance back at the mechabutt. Trap it, huh... that could work.] Do you have somewhere in mind?
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UGH IT TOOK ME 1000 YEARS TO DECIDE iii!!
So it's scary, seeing Tsurumaru anchoring himself to something so firmly, to see him rip his palms over the shadow of so many people as they run and run and fracture into twenty pieces but keep running, still. It's not the first time he's seen blood on this sword's hands, but the meaning is different here, and it unnerves Kashuu to the bone.
That said - he doesn't try to pull Tsurumaru's hands from the glass. Rather than risk hurting him even further, he just - quickly darts over, smacking his palm against the largest piece of glass to block out the images dancing across the surface.]
Hey. Breathe.
UGH HAND ON SHOULDER GOOD WORK
as he whips around, trying to identify who it is, there's something angry and indignant in his gaze; but at this point, it's pretty obvious that he isn't thinking too clearly. it does take him a second or two to identify him as kashuu, though, but once he does, tsurumaru's immediately trying to yank at the other sword's hand, smearing the black fabric of kashuu's glove with blood, but he isn't feeling too considerate in the first place. ]
What are you doing — why are you trying to separate me from them? Kashuu, please, let me see them again. I want to see them again.
[ and then, a bit more softly: ]
I want to be with them.
ugh now im ready 4 paintrain, throws tsuru into space
Today is pretty far from any definition of normal, though. From the shrine and the trinkets there to Tsurumaru here, trying desperately to remove his hand from a piece of lifeless glass, nothing is "as usual" right now. Kashuu's expression twists up into something that's caught between alarm and concern and a bitter twist of fear, a gentle bubble of empathy (but it's not strong enough to have him moving his fingers.
Really, it's not strong enough for anything of note at all.)]
You can't. [See them again? Be with them? Kashuu should have more words to say since it's very near his job to be verbose, but he finds them sticking in his throat now.]
It's just CERES.
ugh im here for paintrain... wtf drags kashuu with?? we're going to the void
STOP GO TO THE VOID ALONE
NO?? puts you in my pocket you're coming with
what in the fck pocket peanuts
complimentary pocket peanuts on the airplane to the void
ugh when will they get a better snacking experience
maybe they can also have mismatched swirly pastas :s
just uncooked noodles in with the rest......
iii
Tsurumaru...! What are you doing...!
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Ishi, don't you see? Don't you see them? My clan... They're here. They're everywhere, and they're running. I have to help them.
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sets hand on your shoulder...google didn't help me with this battle
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ii
[She regards Tsurumaru up and down quickly, whatever consternation on her face at seeing him dressed properly replaced by a wide-eyed awareness at the sight of his sword. Finally, someone who's prepared around here!!! ]
I spotted three a little up ahead. [three of those clanking, weird monsters] Can you handle them if they attack?
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so when she asks, he gives her a bright, cheerful grin, sounding particularly confident when he answers. ]
What kind of sword would I be if I couldn't?
[ never mind that he's far from being the strongest tachi, but he's had over a millennium's worth of fighting experience — that's sword spirits for you, though. after fighting waves and waves of weird, glowing skeleton-ish monsters, fighting these isn't too difficult! and, in response — ]
You can handle running when they do attack, right?
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1/2
2/2
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iii
You do realize what you're trying to do is inherently a bad thing? Don't you? [ Reaching down and over...he plucks one of the bloodied glass shards to see glimpses of his own memories but just as quickly drops that same piece, discarding it. Mikazuki may be asking a lot of questions but with nothing else but this detached curiosity inside of him, he has precious little else to say. ] You're not being corrupted now, are you...? That would be bad.
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Of course. [ somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows — that his efforts are useless, but he's a sword and they're human; these scars on his hands can be fixed through a generous amount of resources, but no amount of resources will bring back the lives of the clan that he loves, with all of his heart.
he wills himself to look at his hands again, torn and embedded with a few, tiny shards of glass, and it hurts, but it's fine — there's a far more tragic sight imprinted on the mirrors. there's a deep, but shaky breath to calm himself (it doesn't do much), before he responds. ]
And if I were being corrupted? Would that be bad?
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phase 3!!
But she has no time to be considering that when Tsurumaru was in pain.]
Tsurumaru! [She quickly grabs his shoulder to try to get his attention.]
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(and somewhere in his mind, he's thinking about how unpleasant he must look, at this very moment.) ]
What...?
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ii sword horror is good horror
Tsurumaru makes a great beacon, even in the barely lit darkness down here. He shuffles closer and then peers at what the older sword is holding.]
...Aren't those...?
[He reaches out for the blue fabric.]
...Yamatonokami's? ...Right?
always here for the sword horror train
he looks at doudanuki, recognizing him before he looks at the fabrics in his own hand again, with a perplexed expression. ]
I think so. Horikawa's ribbon is also here, too.
[ a glance back at the altar, although he isn't too fazed by finding pieces of lost comrades, as most others would probably be... ]
There are a lot of familiar looking things, but I couldn't pick up all of them. I wonder if we should bring some back...?
ugh they'd all be awful watching horror movies
ugh half of them enjoy it and the other half are screaming
their house is the noisiest house
it's surprising that the neighbors don't call the cerespolice on them
i feel like they probably have, but then got dogpiled by all the territorial swords
and now they just put up with the swords..... we have such kind neighbors
poor, defeated neighbors
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iii of course................
he shoves through the doors in time to see tsurumaru tearing at the broken glass, and horror twists inside his chest. he's going to hurt himself. he's going to hurt himself over CERES' cruelty. heedless of the broken glass underfoot, he practically throws himself across the distance between them, a gasped sob--stop!--on his breath. ]
Tsuru-san, Tsurumaru, please--! [ he shoves himself between tsurumaru and the glass, filthy hands reaching for the spirit's, trying to pull them away. ] Please, please stop--!
ugh haru i'm sorry in advance
but somehow, seeing haru trying to stop him is what fills tsurumaru with an undeniable rage — it exasperates him in a way that he can't define, and even though he's stopped clawing at the mirror shards, his hands are still shaking. out of all of haru's swords, it is true that tsurumaru loves him the least, if at all; and he knows that it's a fact that haru is aware of.
still, haru tries for his sake, and that makes him so angry — enough to say something that he probably should have the tact to not say at all. ]
My master is waiting for me.
[ he lifts his head, glaring at haru with the resentment that he's built up for the past eight hundred years. ]
My master — not you.
ugh lays down
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