MISSION: BAD COMPANY, PART 2

[ximilian]

● ● ● M I S S I O N   4 . 2

INTRO • THE DREAM DEFERRED • YOUR WAKE UP CALL • FYI

// INTRO. WELFORD BRANSON  

It is barely past twilight in Scorpion’s Bend, the twin suns having just set, taking their light with them — but the moons delay, and so darkness lingers over the town as Lan Xichen’s conversation with one Welford Branson comes to an abrupt end. At the same time, all around the town, the team will notice the town natives around them stilling — some freezing in the middle of a sentence, a man with a fork in the air, a woman mid-step on the street, some youngsters with their mouths open in laughter. All of them become statues in less than a heartbeat; still, eyes vacant, like everything that made them seem alive has been taken away.

And then — a reverberating sigh, echoing heavily in the ears of all the Orbers. What follows are words, spoken by a chorusing voice now familiar to most of the team —

“Well now you’ve done it.”

The orb’s echoing sound is filled with disappointment, even annoyance.

Some may see that amidst all the frozen townspeople, an old man runs, clawing at his thinning hair. Some of you may hear his words, muttered, desperate:

“I don't understand, I thought 'twas just a bad dream, everyone was fine, don't understand, what in the name of the Eight could've done somethin' like this —”

The disbelieving mumbles trail at his wake, making it clear he does not know what is going on at all — in fact, you may have a better idea as to what has happened than he does. But as you turn to follow him, open your mouth to yell at him to stop... everything around you shatters.

The lights in the buildings grow dim and break; the smell of food disappears; the horses in the stables simply fade away. You notice that if you were wearing or carrying something you bought while here, it too disappears, your clothes turning to those you had on upon arrival, all equipment shimmering away slowly.

But perhaps most importantly… the frozen statues of people crumble into ash right in front of you. It may fill the floors of the now-silent, dusty and worn-down houses, or it may blow away with the harsh desert wind — whichever it is, sans the team, the town of Scorpion’s Bend is now devoid of people.

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// PART I.THE DREAM DEFERRED  

The town that now surrounds the team is very different from the one it used to be — the houses are quiet, filled with sand and dust; doors broken, tables turned over, drawers open and mostly empty, aside from anything not valuable. The beds in Thornbush Inn are ragged, insects of various sizes skittering along the floors. The Saloon is dusty, furniture broken, and a lone piano stands in the corner, half its keys having crumbled away. The door to the Mayor’s office is ajar, a banging sound repeating as it hits the wall in time with the wind.

1.0   In the corners of the Sheriff’s office, the school and the church, the embera slither along, searching for food; owl-shrews hide from the Orbers on the streets, while feathered coyotes howl at the five moons now lending their light to see the town’s destruction better. The team may be the only living humanoids, but they are not the only living beings in the town anymore; in the absence of people, animals have made the town their home. And coexist they must, now, to survive the rapidly dropping temperature of the night that has fallen upon them.

2.0   The next morning, as the moons disappear underneath the horizon and let the two suns bring out their scorching rays once more, the team wakes up to the reality of having to survive Scorpion’s Bend… with very little supplies. So search the empty houses, for they still stand; the fire that has burned away the people has not touched the buildings… but they have not been immune to the passing of time, or the harsh weather in the desert. You may find clothing, basic equipment, pots and pans left on a now-cold stove; but no valuables, no money, no gems, no jewelry, no weapons.

But amidst your search through the town, remember that what you need, first and foremost, is to find water and something to eat — it will not be long until the suns are high in the sky, and some of you are already in desperate need of proper nourishment, without being left to endure the scorching temperatures the days on the planet of Badrock bring.

3.0   But should you want to brave the heat, you’ll find it is now possible to leave the town and venture out into the desert. Out there, the rock dragons search for prey, while bald vultures circle above your head in groups of three or four, their shrieks growing in volume the farther you walk. If you show weakness, any weakness, they strike — and the dragons, sensing their chance, are not far behind.

And when you least expect it, the ground underneath you trembles, like a small earthquake is approaching you… and then you see it: from the sand, a whale surges up, then another, and another, arcing through the air like suspended there, before the sand swallows them once more. Should you get too close, you too may be swallowed underneath the sand; unless you’re very, very careful, or have in your arsenal something else that may help you to deal with these near-immortal giants that have swam across the deserts for hundreds of thousands of years.

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// PART II.YOUR WAKE UP CALL  

Time passes at a snail’s pace without the comforts of the town you were used to. Scorpion’s Bend is now a wasteland you must survive, and it clearly isn’t easy. Some of you might question whether retrieving the orb is still an endeavour worth pursuing after all of this, but the rest of you know that it is. That you’ve come this far and you’re nearly there; you just need to band together and form a gameplan.

As the suns begin to set over the horizon on yet another grueling day of scorching heat and rough, dry sand in the ghost town of Scorpion’s Bend, you might begin to hear a distant thunder that has nothing to do with an oncoming desert storm or otherwise. It rattles at the already weakened structures of the old Saloon and the General Store, bits of broken glass and debris vibrating with the raucous sound of clattering hooves, feet, and paws. And as the sound of the invasion grows louder – you’ll hear the unmistakable manic howling and bellowing in accompaniment: these are the Bouldersnakes that some of you have already heard much of.

4.0   The Bouldersnakes are not a group to be taken lightly, and have garnered the fearsome reputation that they now hold for a reason. Kicking up dust, they arrive like a cloud of chaos in different sizes, shapes, and forms. Some have the ability to shrink and grow in size to match their opponents in physical size and weight. Other Bouldersnakes are agile and quick; and others yet are superhumanly strong and robust – either way, they make for formidable opponents when you, yourself, have been weakened from weeks of a lack of proper nutrition and sleep. The individual members of the Bouldersnakes are like a band of bloodthirsty brothers: from all walks of life and all colours and creeds, with a severe and mean streak to them, who will stop at nothing to achieve their goals.

What goals, you ask? Should you listen carefully, their leader, riding a winged lizard-like creature, shouts to their underlings:

“Find it! This is where it told us to come to. We missed it last time, but no more! I don't care what we have to do, we're getting our hands on that thing!”

As it so happens, you are not the only crew in search of that elusive orb; the Bouldersnakes have been tracking down the whereabouts of this mysterious and all-powerful object themselves, burning through towns – quite literally – to get it. News that Scorpion’s Bend has seen a resurgence of life and might still be the resting place of the orb has the bandits seeking out the town again. Their first round through Scorpion's Bend about a year ago had them coming up empty-handed (save for a few bits and baubles), but this time they are determined to find what they've come here to find. Though if there’s anything left here to salvage... they’ll ransack as they please.

Whether you confront them head-on or they catch you in hiding, they won’t easily back down from a fight. It will be best to keep your distance if you can manage it, and hope that they’ll pass you by. But the Bouldersnakes have their weaknesses too: once maimed, they still bleed, and none of them are immortal, though they are notoriously difficult to kill based on their talents alone... and when they carry weapons, too, well — those not accustomed to battles may find it best to hide. And even for those with fighting experience under your belt, teaming up with your fellow Orbers and combining your shared skills will be your best chance at survival.

5.0   By the time the suns have disappeared and the moons have risen, the Bouldersnakes invasion will make the bandit attack from the other night seem like a childish tussle. The Bouldersnakes don’t play nice and have adapted to the harsh lands as ruthless survivors. They arrive like a wave, many equipped with weapons: guns, sabers, pistols and small knives. A few others have engineered their own specially crafted weapons made of metal and magic (in the shape of guns, blow-torches, and blades) that wield a special element harnessed from mined ore called ‘pulsefire’. It is this pulsefire, glowing a deep blue (like the hottest colour of flame), that has the capability to destroy all living beings and allows the bandits to systematically ravage unsuspecting towns down to ash, reap its benefits (either for the town’s riches and wealth, or and especially: for any supply of ore), and then leave without a trace.

The best way to fight against pulsefire is to acquire weapons of pulsefire of your own and best a Bouldersnake before they best you. (Think high stakes, noon-time duels of the pistol.) Of course, this is a very risky and very dangerous affair as one shot by pulsefire could mean your untimely demise and the element itself isn't easy to put out either, so it might be best to work in teams to strategically disarm and swipe a pulsefire weapon to use before they manage to overwhelm you.

NOTE:   If your character is alive, your character will be vulnerable to the effects of pulsefire. Unliving things such as buildings and infrastructure will not be affected. Pulsefire has a slow spread-rate over unliving things, but its effects on the living are instant. Once in contact with the element, pulsefire quickly consumes the living body and spirit until it is turned to ash. Putting pulsefire out over unliving things is relatively easy, but once pulsefire has touched the living, there's little to no chance of making it out in one piece.

All through this, you must still remember your goal — it is not to stay in Scorpion's Bend, or even fight the Bouldersnakes, but to find the orb... and that means finding Welford Branson. How will you convince him to give you the orb, when all signs point to him not even knowing what it is, or what it has done? That is what you must decide... if you survive the Bouldersnakes in one piece, of course.

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F Y I

• The events in this log take place ICly right after the end of the NPC thread.

• The voting for how to get the orb is now open! Please head HERE to submit your idea for how the team should proceed to get the orb, or +1 others’ ideas.

• The conclusion of the mission and the return to the station will be posted on February 13.

• If you have questions about anything in this log, please direct them HERE.

• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪

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Comments

questions

[ximilian]

For any questions regarding the events or information on this log, ask them here.

[bindsthedead]

So with the Orb out of the picture, will Sabriel be able to sense that everyone in town died roughly over a year ago? And would there be any spirits around for her to talk to, or does the line about pulsefire 'consuming the spirit' mean that anyone killed by it is just gone, no soul left behind to chat with? (Which she'll probably notice in the aftermath of the Bouldersnake's attack, if some of them are killed with pulsefire weapons and some are not).

gwen stacy.

[construing]

( Closed starters below! ALSO late in the bandit attack, Gwen will have access to one of Newt's devices that render the pulsefire not immediately fatal. She'll be available to put out fires whether threaded or handwaved. For all other thread ideas, feel free to PM me or hit me up at the plotting post! )

PETER.

[construing]

[ no one’s having a good day.

the bodies, the ash. (so much ash.) gwen had her suspicions, but seeing the devastation… it doesn’t matter how long she’s at this or what planet they’re on or what universe. it does not get easier. the day it does is the day she knows something is truly wrong with her.

then more bad news. gwen touches the fluid cartridge loaded into her left web shooter. of all the people here, she didn’t expect tony stark to be not-a-massive-dick. and now he’s gone, like peter before him. she didn’t get to know tony all that well either (unbelievably, she would have liked to), but peter número dos did.

she wasn’t surprised to see the black cloud thundering around peter quill. if she has learned anything about the man it is how huge a heart he has. and this is a lot. it’s a heck of a lot in a very short amount of time.

typically, she would not bother him so early, nor would she expect him to be awake. times, they are a-changin’ because early morning finds gwen tugging him away from the ruins of the town. she changed her mask for pink oval lenses to protect her eyes, her usual costume design for one mimicking the new design doodled into one of the margins on the notes he gave her.

spider-woman and star-lord. just a pair of bleeding hearts making the trek out into the desert.

she stops abruptly, head cocked as if listening to something only she can hear. she holds a finger to her lips in signal to be quiet. ]

Over there.

[ taking peter by the arm, gwen points—needlessly, as a faint tremble radiates through the earth, growing stronger. she watches with growing excitement as first pebbles, then rocks start shaking, and then the sand explodes upward. when the first whale breaches, gwen’s face splits into a grin. sand whales. actual sand whales. who would have thought? ]

itachi uchiha | naruto

[blackfire]

  𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝;

𝟏.𝟎/𝟐.𝟎/𝟑.𝟎

（ itachi can be found doing several things — scouring an old metal trough to some semblance of cleanliness, which he will then fill with water from a jutsu — he happens to be adept at creating water without a direct source nearby.

he can also be found fortifying one of the abandoned buildings, blocking off windows/etc to contain the warmth of a fire within it. this will be accompanied by a network post that simply states the location and that he has water and shelter for the evening. you might have to BYOF, though.

he will help anyone who seems to be struggling, listen to anyone that might need an ear, and offer... very blunt and emotionally stunted assistance with any crises of faith. have fun?

at some point in the quiet ruin of the night, supposing you've joined him in his makeshift shelter, he'll sit down beside you and offer you a glass of water. ）

Did you find anything of use today?

⟨ choose this option if you want: chill chats, bonding, existentialism, BODY HEAT TROPES — threads prob will cap out at 20-30 comments max overall. i can also write you a customized starter under this umbrella, just send me a PM or hit me up on seafaring or you can wildcard me based on the above.

itachi will not leave the town to go after the rock dragons/sand whales/et al without outside impetus, but i'm up for those options too, just lmk! ⟩ ）

  𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥;

𝟒.𝟎/𝟓.𝟎

（ when the bouldersnakes attack, he is quick to act. he will step into a leadership role if anyone around him is unsure of what to do and for those of you who haven't seen ninja skills on display, now's your chance!

at some point, you may find a knife whizzing past your head and itachi — in a rather uncharacteristically loud voice, saying: ）

Get down!

（ itachi is going to have a strong aversion to killing in the course of this mission. people who have spent time with him may be able to note he is choosing nonfatal methods and strongly prefers to disable or imprison any of the bouldersnakes he encounters. he's not against injuring them, though — he's given his sword to andy, but he's still got kunai and shuriken aplenty to handle the rest! he will be taking any of the bouldersnakes he disabled to the jail. if anyone should help him with this — ）

Help me tie them.

（ he doesn't have rope, but he tosses you a small bit of wire filament that has the flexibility of rope. — it may seem cruel, but he still sees it as a better alternative to death.

you may notice that some of the bouldersnakes seem absolutely catatonic. non-responsive or comatose somehow. weird, right? ）

⟨ choose this option if you want: fight scenes! injuries! opportunities to show off or be amazed by dumb OP ninja nonsense! feel free to handwave fighty scene nonsense if you want to do the aftermath instead, which can be: 'oh god how are we still alive', 'mamaaaaa just killed a man' or injury-tending/etc.

as above, happy to make a more character-specific starter, but feel free to wildcard me based on the above details as well. ⟩

𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐤;

（ he has avoided using the mangekyō as much as possible. it has meant limiting himself — he's preferred to avoid tsukuyomi and amaterasu as much as possible, but the more protracted the fight becomes and the more exhaustion sets in, sinks down into his bones the more he knows he will have to make a choice.

the choice, as it turns out, is saving jim's life.

whatever his last fight may have been, it took a lot out of him — he's ducked into an alley to give himself a brief respite, coughing until he dapples his hands with blood. it's not fatal — not to the same level he pushed himself with sasuke, but it's unpleasant, and he needs, needs to rest sooner rather than later or risk stepping over that very fine line he walks.

it's here, leaning against a small outdoor coal shed for the adjacent building that he hears it — jim's voice and a resultant scuffle, the jeering of what has to be a half-dozen bouldersnakes.

he grimaces faintly, straightens up and rounds the corner in time to see one of the creatures wrap its tentacles around jim's throat, hefting him into the air with no more struggle than if he weighed nothing at all.

itachi's reaction is instantaneous — the tomoe in his eyes sharpen to the mangekyō and susanoo's right hand reaches out to curl protectively around jim, in concert with the black flames of amaterasu alighting on the creature's outstretched tentacles. the damage is instantaneous, and it drops jim with a wild shriek, leaving him in the hands of the guardian spirit and half a tentacle still wrapped around his neck.

urgently, to jim — ）

Can you fight?

（ because sheer will is the only reason he's still standing on the heels of that show of power, and he needs to know if his efforts will be spent protecting jim or if they're better off running from this. ）

[winscenario]

[ Despite knowing all along this was what everything was leading to, the way the fight breaks out still has managed to catch him by surprise. Maybe it was the dead silence of all the days before, the quiet of the desert now that the town is practically gone; or maybe it's just that the Bouldersnakes are much more different in appearance than they might've been ready for.

The only thing working to Jim's advantage is speed, good reflexes and good aim. But it's no match to the bigger of the Bouldersnakes, or the stronger, the more well-armed. It's not very long before he's cornered into a shed, and after a quick scuffle that proves he's absolutely no threat when pushed to the ground, his phaser tossed aside without effort, he's finding himself hoisted in the air as though he weighs nothing, a tentacle tight around his throat.

Funnily enough, the first thing going through his mind is that he keeps finding himself in this position. The second thought is that there's no way anyone's coming to his rescue this time around... or at least that's what he thinks.

He doesn't realize what's happening at first. Dizzy and lacking air, he only feels the pressure around his throat ease, and it's only after a few heaving breaths that he sees the severed tentacle still resting against him, some dark liquid that he assumes to be blood staining his clothes. He lands on his feet, knees a bit wobbly for a moment, eyes wide as he looks at this— creature that's been conjured to save him.

And then his gaze finds Itachi, and he nods, already moving to grab his phaser. ]

I can fight. But we should find a way out of here. Couple of them are armed with pulsefire weapons.

[ He rushes back to Itachi, unsure of how well he can stand on his own feet right now. But they need to move fast, preferably before this guardian he's conjured fades away. ]

Finn | Star Wars

[hatejakku]

[ ooc: Going to write up some closed starters but if you want him for something, feel free to ping me! ]

locked to Jim;

[hatejakku]

[ Once the illusion went down, everything suddenly... changed. For almost everyone else, it was realizing that the people weren't real, the town was falling apart, and their situation was even more dire than originally thought. For Finn, it just meant that the world suddenly got noisy. After so long of trying to reach out to the Force and listen, it was like over stimulation for an hour or so there.

It's still too much to narrow anything down, so he can't tell if danger is around any particular corner or not. It's everywhere, feels like. They're not the only ones hungry out here. But that's okay, it's all okay. He has his old skills to fall back on.

No matter everything that's happened since, Finn promised to help James with rationing and he's still keeping to that. Now that the town is real again, they have a chance of finding stored goods. It's just... finding where to start.

They're standing outside, trying to figure that out. ]

The saloon's basement maybe? It's the most obvious. Especially for something clean to drink. [ Old wine and the like. Cleaner than what they'll find in nature. That said, someone could have picked it over already for that same reason. ]

Homes are most likely to have something, too. Sealed foods, maybe.

Rosinante | OTA

[callada]

1 & 2. Badrock cookout

a. Survival in the direst of circumstances is something Rosinante is all too well acquainted with. And it has come to his attention, since their nutrition deficiencies were discovered, that some people here struggle with putting together a meal when there's little to eat.

It's some small blessing that there's food inside, but it's scarce, and the cold and dust make it hard to want to spend much time searching. "Hey," he calls out, "Help me search this block. Let's see if there's food."

b. Before long, he's found some shelter from the wind in a barn and is busy skinning snakes next to a sturdy fire. A dented steel pot is suspended over it by a frame of splintered wood, and a makeshift stew bubbles away inside.

The old building's tattered roof won't do much to keep the dust out, but it'll keep the smoke from getting too thick, and might just be enough to hold a little heat in, too.

"Hungry? Here, c'mere, warm up. Find a bowl, I think there's some in the house," he says, nodding to the barn door. "Hell, bring a few, other people will want them."

4 & 5. Pulsefire shootout

a. "What the hell is that?"

They're surely all thinking it. The short trek into the desert to see what else lies outside town is cut off abruptly as what appears to be a dust storm looms closer and closer - and at its foot, mounted riders, then people on foot, then huge, hulking brutes all howling at the sky, at the town, and at the few of them standing there.

"Shit. We need cover," Rosinante shouts as he draws his gun.

b. As the fighting goes on, it's obvious that those pulsefire weapons aren't something to take lightly. The flames scorch too close for comfort, and Rosinante dives behind a building as blue light bursts behind him.

"We need one of those. That's our best way of fighting back," he says, hurried but hushed, as he scrambles to his feet. "You good? I bet we can take that guy."

((As always, feel free to wildcard, and I'm happy to match your style if you hate prose.))

Cookout | B

[morethan084]

[Daisy has had to survive before, but not like this. She had her van, and food was easy to steal. Here? She's out of her element, but thankfully the same can't be said about Rosi. She doesn't bother to ask what he managed to cook, because at this point? She really doesn't care. Her stomach growls loudly as she hurries to find something to put the mystery soup in and comes back with a mug.]

Thanks.

[Her hands are freezing as she moves to take a seat near the fire.]

How are you holding up?

leonard mccoy.

[homeostatic]

( writing some closed starters, please hmu via pm if you'd like anything! )

4/5 locked;

[homeostatic]

( Absent the orb, Scorpion's Bend was a corpse left to the harsh elements, picked clean to its bones by scavengers and beset by grave robbers.

Bones woke immediately to the thunder of hoof beats, the harsh sound of nearby shouts and shattering wood as the cadre rush to kick in doors, the cold night sparked with gunfire and jets of blue flame.

He rose in tandem with Jim this time, dousing the fire and deciding, in those breathless seconds, to fall back. Find the others, regroup, get the unarmed to safety.

Darting down an alley onto a side street, he and Jim are split suddenly by another bandit on foot. Dusty with ash, he turns his gun with wild panic between the two of them, and McCoy has some impression of Drift on the man's heels, towering and relentless.

He throws a hand out. )

Stop! Okay, it's okay—

( The muzzle flash lights their faces in the dark, the man's angry terror and McCoy's shock, as heat lances through his gut and out through his back, but it's the sound that surprises him, how loud it is, so close it leaves his ears ringing.

He doesn't think. He lets his momentum carry him forward, lets the adrenaline carve through the sudden, shocking pain.

McCoy gets as far as a handful of strides, staggers, and drops gracelessly to the sands with a low groan of anguish, bleeding dark between his fingers. )

Jim...

rhysand. — a court of thorns and roses

[business]

( closed & open starters to follow. i have rhys' plotting comment here ( i will probably edit/add things onto here soon ) if you'd like to plot anything out, or if you'd like a closed starter, you can feel free to add me on trashmouth for all plotting reasons! ☆)

1.0 — open

[business]

( mostly, rhys seems unbothered by the cold — though, whether that's the truth or a simple facade is a question that remains unanswered thought the clouding puffs of his frozen breath. he has ways of making himself warm, in any case. magic and fae tricks of illusion, playing pranks on his own mind until he feels durable enough. the manipulations of children, really — but they still work.

he's more concerned with people less fortunate or magically inclined as him. wherever he finds himself, among a group of people huddling for warmth, he offers what he can of his magic, though with time it starts to flicker and dim, like a battery on the last legs of its life.

still, he tries to help. despite giving off the impression of being a completely normal person at once glance — by the next there's a pair of overlarge bat wings sprouting from his back, huge enough to reach out and protectively curl one around a shivering person, effectively encompassing them in a membrane of heat. almost wryly, rhys shrugs his shoulders, ducking his head as if to conceal some embarrassment. )

It'll keep you a little warm, hopefully. ( looking up, his eyes dance with the shimmer of mischievous stars, sparkling silver outlining the violet. ) Better if we're closer, of course.

clarke griffin | the 100

[romancekiller]

[ open and closed starters will have their own separate threads! if you would like a custom starter, feel free to shoot me a pm or hit up my plotting comment here which have my general event plans so we can figure something out ❤ ]

PART 1 — 1.0 & 2.0 ▶ THE DREAM DEFERRED

[romancekiller]

i )

a ) [clarke isn't too surprised with the sudden shift with their surrounding because while it was a bit jarring with how suddenly it occurred, it feels a lot more like deja vu for her seeing the empty town almost as if she were right back at home. she had already been working on auto pilot being prepared with rations for this mission out of habit even before they knew what they were up against and now most of all she wished she hadn't been right about it.

she is more than used to this and ironically enough feeling more in her element from her familiarity of surviving in a situation like this and having to scavenge for food, water and other basic necessities while having limited resources to rely on. she knows exactly what she needs to though and it's a mindset she easily falls back into wanting to prioritize the safety and well being of the rest of the team so naturally she decides to take charge and start by doing a supply run to scavenge for whatever she can find] Hey. You want to team up to try and see what we can find around here? I could use a hand and besides there is safety in numbers too.

b ) [for most of the abandoned houses she has been searching through, she maintains a certain amount of caution each time she enters, going through searching every nook and cranny of the house to dig up whatever can be useful so they can survive another day through all this. whether you've teamed with her or just happen to run into her in the same location, she's grateful for the help because the more they can get out of this to ensure they make it out of this mission alive, the better it is in the long run. she has found some clothes, a couple of items they can cook with so far but anything else seems to like rarity] Did you have any luck finding anything?

ii )

[it is later into the evening once they've managed to get some food cooking up and have started up fires to keep warm with how the temperatures have drastically dropped. clarke is helping out here and there to assist with the meal or over to the side working on getting a fire started. for as much as she is used to this and feels like she has dealt with much worse, she isn't immune to the cold either as she absentmindedly starts to rub her hands together to warm herself up.

she might be feeling a little chilly but that was the least of her concerns as she keeps her focus on helping those around her. she starts to make her round with checking in on people whether she knows them or not either with blankets in hand or offering out a warm bowl filled with food] How are you holding up?

You should take this— it'll help with keeping warm.

Sabriel | OTA

[bindsthedead]

Intro

[It's sudden- as the illusion falls apart, Sabriel's awareness shifts- and suddenly, what she'd pressed to learn, what the orb had actively tried to block her from sensing- becomes suddenly, horribly clear.

Scorpion's bend was not a large town, but even so, the echo of so many deaths, all happening in a single, horrible moment-

Sabriel has to choke back a scream. Anyone with her at that moment will notice her shaking, trying desperately to keep herself from shaking, even as she looks at the piles of ash that had once been the tea shop's patrons.]

So many- it all happened at once.

[Sabriel grabs at the wreck of one table to try to keep herself upright, as she tries to tamp down her death sense, and block out the echoes of what happened here.]

1.1

[But the dead are dead, and Sabriel feels no spirits stirring, trying to cross over to Life, despite how thin the boundary is, worn down from so many dying at once. It's one less thing to worry about, at least.

So she throws herself into helping, catching embrera and owl-shrews to cook, and keeping what little shelter they have standing and as reinforced as possible. It's easy to steel herself against the small, animal deaths, and she makes sure they die quickly, before she picks them up, taking them to be skinned and gutted.]

1.3

[Sabriel's eager for any excuse to get out of town, away from the constant sense of death, and a chill that even the midday heat can't fully chase from her bones. She's visibly more at ease the further they get from the town, despite the heat and the danger, although she's not blind to the latter- pointing to a large rock formation a short ways off, where a handful of plants are growing.]

Can we climb up there? We can see if any of them look edible, and- what's that?!

[Because out of the corner of her eye, Sabriel sees the upper shell of a rock dragon as it surfaces slightly, cutting through the sand like a shark through water.]

Your Wake Up Call

[Sabriel moves swiftly as the fight starts- she's no stranger to combat, and she doesn't like the way some of those weapons gleam, shining eerily blue.

Sabriel fights at a distance, most of the time, aiming spells, and occasionally bullets, at her opponents, drawing her sword only when her foes get too close to her or another crew member.]

Watch out!

[These people are dangerous, and even if Sabriel isn't always striking to kill- there's less of the guilt this time, even if there's no satisfaction in the sensation of their deaths as she tries to block them out. These people are trying to kill her, and the friends she's made- and they've already wiped out this town, and who knows how many others they might kill, if they're not stopped- or if the orb falls into their hands.]

Wildcard

[None of these work? PP me at sarahthesilent or DM this journal if you want a custom starter.]

1.3

[whitestonelives]

[Percy goes still, then readies Bad News, eyes narrowing at the rock dragon coming just a little too close for comfort. He loads it up with bullets, but he's not stupid enough to fire a shot first at it, so he starts to walk up the rock formation (thank you, boots of spider-climbing) before he stops and looks at Sabriel.]

Can you climb up there on your own or do you need help?

[Because if she needs help he's willing to pull her up, but he isn't quite as strong as other people.]

Edward Elric l Fullmetal Alchemist

[chrysology]

1.0:

Seems like we still have company. Wonder if we can eat these.....?

[Would it work? Be any sort of nutrition? Or just the snakes still? Given those are the only things at the moment they were aware that aren't originally from here? Ed isn't sure. But things like coyotes were probably not poisonous or anything like the risk with snakes? So it might be safer? To at least maybe try? Ed wonders aloud, probably to himself but there might be others around within earshot to hear him musing, wondering.]

2.0

[Ed figures while they are here, before they possibly head off to search for that guy, may as well see what can be salvaged at least. Which is why he can be found rummaging through the remains of the buildings to check. He takes the pots, the pans for some basics for cooking while they are out here. He figures it might come in handy at least. Some changes of clothes.]

All these houses and no food? Seriously?

3.0

Wh -- ??

[Ed figures they may as well branch out, at least some of them, to try find this guy, the orb. Now they can leave and venture further out. He isn't necessarily expecting the whales though. Of course that makes him start, golden eyes wide when he feels the ground shake. He then isn't quite able to move fast enough before getting basically buried in the sand, sans his auto-mail hand sticking out as he at least tries to get that as much out of the sand as he can manage to.

Yeah. Winry is so going to kill him for all this with this mission. But also, he might need a hand.]

4.0:

[Ed is used to fighting people usually older and bigger than he is. Someone smaller? Someone actually changing to his size? Well. That is new. Though not too freaky, after dealing with Envy's shapeshifting. He isn't holding back with his alchemy anymore. So there might be a lot more commotion around him during the fight. A lot more pale blue sparks emitting, that slight hum or ringing noise as he claps and transmutes to raise or lower the ground to get height and advantage, or try mess with his opponent in tripping them up, making them fall. Otherwise, he'll be flipping around in trying to dodge attacks, transmuting his auto-mail arm to a blade to help him defend, to help him attack, though he only aims to hurt, not to kill.]

Wait, what? They're after -- ?

[The orb too? Ed's golden eyes widen at that confirmation, as he pauses in the fight, giving his opponent a chance to attack again.]

5.0:

This is....wow. What do we need? To stop this then?

[If they can figure parts, materials. He can work with that, maybe transmute what they need. Something. Try help somehow at least. Ed just isn't as familiar with technology and all. That's really more others from the future, their thing they are more adept with. Or Winry. She'd tinker with this stuff forever if someone let her, probably.]

Maybe I can transmute something? If anyone has ideas, tells me what they want? What might help?

3

[callada]

[Rosinante had set out only a few minutes later, hoping to make some sense of this place. For a while he'd followed a pair of footprints in the sand, figuring that was something like sticking together just because orienting out in the desert is a real challenge, and if someone else had set out alone, and he was foolishly doing the same thing, maybe he could fix two mistakes in one effort.

But the sands shift with the breeze, the trail begins to get hard to discern, and right when he's thinking maybe he should turn around, he sees harsh sun glinting off metal. He hurries toward it and as it resolves into the shape of a hand-]

Ed?

[There's a real note of panic as his pace lengthens. He bends over to grab the hand and starts pulling, managing to at least get some of Ed's form out of the sand - and that's when his own balance fails him, his feet slide right out from under, and he's thrown backward under his own awkward weight onto the ground, too, sinking into it partway.]

Well, shit. [He sputters, spitting out sand, then:] Hey, you okay?

billy butcher — the boys

[cheapbastard]

01. FUCKIN' COLD

( if the church is good for one thing, it's stocking up on shit to help others. that's how billy finds the stash of blankets probably received during some blanket drive or some shit and pulls it around his shoulders. it doesn't help much but it's enough.

considering how things are going, he doesn't feel all that bad when he takes his boot and starts smashing one of the wooden pews to shit so he can start a fire. no one better ever give him shit about smoking again because that's how he came to have a bunch of fuckin' matches that he was about to set the wood alight with.

it's probably not going to keep but it warms the area and most of the animals that decide to take shelter stay away. you might be able to see it from outside if he wanna come in. just make sure you state who you are because billy's on edge and he might brain you with a fuckin' fire extinguisher. )

02. FUCKIN' SEARCHING

( the fire's long burned out but the sun's finally risen which means billy is getting the fuck out of this church. he doesn't bother to divest himself of the collar but he's done playing preacher. whatever's happening is going down right now and he is not going to sit in here and miss out.

the town feels like it's emptied out and billy winces as he steps through ash of what had been people. not fucking cool.

weapons. he wants weapons and maybe food. but weapons first and, still carrying the fire extinguisher from last night, he bashes the door of the first house he finds and steps through. )

Anyone home? Welcome wagon? Hey, you got anything good in here?

( no one answers. billy smiles thinly and starts searching for something sharp or, even better, a fuckin' gun. )

04. FUCKIN' FIGHTING

( it's fucking exhilirating to be bashing the skull of someone's that trying to kill him. been way too long and billy knows he has to look quite the dichotomy, wildly billing any bouldersnake that wants to get in his way. it's not an easy fight, not by a fuckin' long shot, but every time he gets knocked down, he gets back up.

there's blood on his cheeks, spattered on the white of his collar and dusting his jeans and he doesn't care. he feels alive and maybe that's not a good thing, to feel like himself when he's killing other people but he does.

and fuck you if you don't like it.

he fights with anything he can get his hands on (rocks, sticks, fire extinguisher, and the knives he'd collected earlier). you might find him over the body of a bouldersnake, shoving a knife into his gut or you might find the bouldersnake with their boot on his neck, threatening death.

but the bottom line is you're gonna find him tussling with these fucks for as long as he's conscious. )

06. FUCKIN' WILDCARD

( if you'd like to do something else, feel free to toss it at me. )

1

[ruinously]

[ Okay, it's cold. Dean's a survivalist, sure, but it's still friggin' cold and if he can find shelter, he's gonna.

Church is as good a place as any to start, so that's where he goes, easing himself in carefully, wood creaking under his boots. ]

Hello? Is there anybody out there?

takeshi kovacs | altered carbon

[kovach]

[ though he had begun to suspect something wrong with the people scattered throughout the town, nothing could have really prepared him or anyone for the drastic emptiness that eventually befell their surroundings. survival isn't even necessarily the biggest challenge for them to confront based on the limit of their supplies, but rather what comes after, when the bouldersnakes arrive.

kovacs isn't starved for violence, despite the image that many might make of him, based on his size, his strength, his darkened eyes that have no doubt seen endless war. he won't deny that he's been a killer since he was a child, but it was what he was molded into, by the anger of his father, by the aggression of the protectorate — he fights because it is the only way he knows how to survive. with two months of a strange sense of peace in the way he's lived out in this town, there's a protective instinct that rises innately with the appearance of the bouldersnakes, as if there's finally a face he can put on something to blame. they're a threat, there's no doubt of that, so it's an excuse to retaliate.

he has a few guns in his arsenal, along with a neurachem-altered body that makes for better reflexes, quicker movements, and more durable bones. he's not in his best state, not when he's barely eaten for weeks, but he knows how to improvise, to fight under severe conditions and so he makes do.

I. ( TEAM-UP, closed to those it's been plotted with ) of course, his opponents have their own advantages, quicker and stronger than the kind of people he typically fights. even while managing in the midst of hand-to-hand combat, he gets trapped more in a defensive stance than an offensive one, doing his best to counter the bouldersnake's blows with blocks of his arms. right now, he could use a secondary hand to help get this one off his back, so he can retrieve his gun again and get back on track.

II. ( RESCUE, closed to those it's been plotted with ) evidence of his fighting is already well-painted on his clothes, but he hasn't stopped, even as he pants out of breath while moving through the town, checking into the abandoned shops for anyone who might be in trouble. when he finds someone confronted by a bouldersnake, he shouts out, ] Stay down! [ before he raises up his gun and shoots a blast at the enemy, either to take them out completely if they're weakened enough or to at least capture their attention.

III. ( DAMAGE, open to all ) eventually, he catches a moment for himself, one in which he lets himself breathe, like he's been holding it the entire time he's been armed. he's worn out, tired, hungry, and that's without him even bothering to address the decoration of wounds on his body, patches of his clothes ripped where a bullet has grazed his skin, where knives have slashed open gashes, where punches have given birth to a collection of new bruises. but even then, his clothing is so drenched with blood, it's hard to tell what's his own and what comes from the corpses he's helped to stack. some of it has already dried over his face, crimson lines and spatters practically hiding his skin.

finding an empty porch, he slides his body down against the wooden column, propping his knees up, arms outstretched over each as he digs out a lone cigarette from his shirt pocket, patting down the rest of his clothes to find some matches. ]


( ooc: fighting options are limited as to avoid overdoing it with too many action threads, but open to post-fighting chats and trauma bonding, along with other survival scenarios if anyone wants to discuss for wild card tag-ins and closed starters. )

closed to marta.

[kovach]

[ he's undergone worse things than this. that's what he keeps thinking as his eyes survey the empty, cold of the town, desolate and ash-ridden. it's strange to miss something that was never really there in the first place, unable to piece together what about the falsities of an isolated close-knit society could hold of value for him. he ponders it at the back of his mind, while he tries to focus on the precise order of his priorities; they'd found some scraps to eat for the day, but the same can't be said for tomorrow. still, he wonders, why did it all matter?

Because it felt like a home.

this is the part he hates sometimes. sitting upon the same chair he's sat in about a hundred times since he's been in scorpion's bend, kovacs closes his eyes to what should be the emptiness of what once was the kovacs-cabrera office, now even more worn and aged than it'd been when they were conducting business out of it. but it isn't empty, not from his mind. even with closed eyes, it's as if he could feel her there.

quellcrist falconer stands at the corner, like she'd somehow been there the entire time, even as an illusion, as a ghost, as a piece of his own subconscious, like she's come to cast judgment. ]

It wasn't home. [ he tells her plainly, sighing through his nose. ] Home hasn't existed since you.

[ Then why did it matter so much? well now, that's not fair. he had asked that first. but silly of him to think she'd have any of the answers. after all, she's just his own psyche, redirecting the thoughts of his own tortured mind through a different voice. Was it her? ]

No. [ his answer is quick, almost snapped, as his eyes open, fingers thrumming against the surface of dusty wood. ] I'm an Envoy. I take what is offered. She's useful. [ That's a weak excuse. Even for you. When will you stop using it? she's right. it's an excuse, well expired after two hundred and fifty years of using it. not that he'll stop. if he does, that'd be admitting to what he's really seeking out. ] It's not going to happen for me. Deal's been made. I made my bed. I'm not gonna find it anymore.

[ What — love? he nearly rolls his eyes out of his head. Happiness? For a little while, you did find it again. Here. Didn't you? ]

That's not what that was. [ but he realizes that a part of it might have been, in little fragments. the mission still existed, yes, but there was a mission with the envoys too. there was a mission even as they carved out a small life in the caves of stronghold, in an isolated peace where they joined for a common goal, while he built a family with people from different corners of the settled worlds, while he'd grown to know someone who showed him what holding on to hope again could feel like.

Hope doesn't have to be a dirty word, Kovacs. Isn't that why we're all here? Because of hope?

this time it isn't quell who speaks to him. just a memory he wishes hadn't carved its way so deeply into him so fast. he sighs, head hanging and facing down as his arms settle against the desk. cold, hungry, tired. it's all simply getting to him. ]

I'm gonna forget all of this. I'll forget her too. So what's the point? [ there's no answer in return. quell must have disappeared, replaced by a different memory that doesn't stop haunting him. as his eyes peer over his outstretched arms, he can see the fallen ash atop his skin, as more of it rains down like snow within the confined space of the office, like a reminder to himself — everything ends. everyone disappears. everything except me, he thinks. ]

clara oswald | doctor who

[bossily]

[open & closed starters below. If you'd like a closed starter hit me up at trashpanda.]

ash - open to one tag in

[bossily]

[It's in the middle of the early evening when Clara is telling a story to a group of children who have gathered. She's been telling stories about her adventures with the Doctor, and the children have come to absolutely love them. With as fond as she's become of the children who attend the school here, she's feeling a sense of contentment as she makes them all giggle and gasp with her stories.

Tonight's different though. Tonight it's while they're all laughing together because she's just modeled the Doctor's ridiculous giraffe dance that they all freeze. Clara's laughter abruptly stops, smile fading off her face as she quickly becomes unnerved.

Her eyes glance all around. Everyone else that isn't an orber is frozen the same way. By the time she's glancing back to the children, they're already turning to ash.]

No.

[She whispers with desperation, as if it's going to stop this from happening. Her eyes go wide as she reaches out to one of the children, her hand slipping through and gathering ash.

She had known they weren't real. She had told people so for weeks now that she suspected it. But she had been hoping that maybe there would be a way to save the children. She thinks of the promises she had made them, that she would always be there for them. That even if their responses and actions were limited, they were still children. And their loss shakes her to her core.

Clara drops down to her knees, hand resting atop the pile of ashes that have collected before her. The voice in her head had been right. Now they've really done it. And the guilt caused by that loss is extreme. ]

Ziggy Berman | Fear Street

[shadysided]

I. Diggin' Up Bones

[Standing in the deathly quiet town after the people had crumbled away, Ziggy finds herself at a loss. It's certainly not her first brush with tragedy — in fact, she had been at the epicenter of the last great tragedy she'd witnessed, a victim of it herself — but this reminds her that this certainly isn't some game. Real people died here, just like so many kids had died at Shadyside. One massacre after the other. It's disheartening, but she can't go sitting down and giving up now.

So she goes back to the mines, collects a wheelbarrow full of tools like pick-axes and shovels, and wheels it back to the waiting orbers as they continue piecing together the terrible events of the town. Tying her hair back from her sweaty face, she looks to her new company and says:]

If you look for dried up river beds or plants, you can dig under and find some water; sometimes it's just a few feet under.

You wanna come with?

II. Involuntary Hunger Strike | CW: Starvation/Hunger Symptoms

[But as the days pass, she finally starts to feel the unpleasant effects of hunger taking hold; she'd already dropped a few pounds since the start of the mission (a mission which she'd been unfortunately one of the first to show up for), but with the complete loss of the town and the depletion of their emergency food kits... yeah, it's been tough.

She's not one to bitch and moan, though; she hates doing that. So she keeps her head low and helps look for what scraps of food they can manage to ensare. Finding water has been relatively successful, and she's been practicing her collecting skills from shallow holes in thoe desert floor, but she does have to admit... she's getting tired. And sometimes the shovel feels like it's a hundred pounds.

She swears she's just stopping for a short break. But somewhere between putting down the shovel and moving toward a porch, she feels her vision get dark and she's out before she even hits the floor. When she stirs again, she blinks up at a blurry face hovering over hers, not yet recognizable. Despite how it obviously looks, she mumbles:]

... Tripped over something...

III. Your Wake Up Call (SIDE A) | Her Saving Folks | CW: Violence

[Ziggy's been... mostly holding her own. Or trying to, anyway. The revolver she's got doesn't have much ammunition left, but she's going to try to make the most of it. Live, her brain tells her. Don't die. But beyond that, she's terrified at the idea of running into yet another person she knows dead. Her head is so utterly crowded by the memories of Camp Nightwing in this moment, despite the stark differences. Just having someone out there ready to hunt her, ready to harm her, it's enough to put her on edge.

When she sees one of the bandits taking aim with their pulsefire rifle at a fellow Orber, though, her thoughts immediately snap into focus. She raises her gun, aims like Peter had taught her, and fired. The bandit doesn't get the chance to shoot; they collapse in a heap on the ground instead, their pulsefire rifle falling out of their boneless hands.

Ziggy stands there shakily, lowers her gun, and looks anxiously toward her teammate.]

Are - you okay?

[She's getting a little too used to shooting people.

But she will run out of ammunition pretty soon, so that's more of a concern.]

IV. Your Wake Up Call (SIDE B) | And Folks Saving Her | CW: Violence

[Ah, yeah, there goes the last of her ammo. She tucks the empty revolver into her belt and makes her way toward potential safe spaces — it's not like they're all combatants, and really, she shouldn't be out here trying to play Rambo herself. She's shaky from weariness and hunger and all the things accumulating into one big mess, so all she can think about is finding somewhere to sit and maybe freak out in solitude. (You killed someone, her mind numbly supplies. But what else was she supposed to do?)

A blast of pulsefire hits the wall in front of her and she cries out in surprise, stumbling backward. The bandit that comes charging in on horseback looks very determined to hit her, their own gun poised ready for a second shot. As the sounds of the hooves grow closer and closer, she makes a break for it, skidding around a corner and running as hard and fast as she can. But she's not gonna outrun a horse, is she...?!

Her foot catches a rock jutting up from the arid soil and she falls hard onto her knees, panting, her lungs burning.

Too close, they're too close-

She's done for, she thinks.

... It's been a good run, at least.]

II.

[spacedisaster]

[ Peter is walking back into town, carrying something in a bag that leaves the fabric bloodied at the bottom and dripping, when he spots Ziggy on the ground. Heartbeat faltering for a second, he curses out loud and runs towards her, not quite being able to move as swiftly as he usually does.

He, too, is feeling the effects of going without food for weeks and the harsh weather conditions. Peter has lost weight as well, but he knows he can afford that. His beard is longer, and the lack of proper sleep makes his eyes look shadowed, the curve of his jawline is sharper and his hands feels rougher to the touch. They all need to drink more. But he's a grown man, and he arrived to town later than her, so he can manage. Or so Peter keeps telling himself.

He drops the bloodied back and kneels next to Ziggy, hand going to her cheekbones to cradle her face and get her to look at him. ]

Ziggy. What happened, are you okay? Can you hear me?

[ If She gives him a proper look, she might notice that Peter looks a bit scratched and his clothes are torn in places. There's a bruise in his left temple, his hair messy. Another cut on his right thigh, the pants ripped in a diagonal line, and some blood seeping out of the wound, but it's mainly superficial. ]

Yzak Jule | Gundam SEED

[coordination]

[ For all starters: Yzak's spending the duration of this log with a nice bandage covering the left side of his face thanks to an ill timed run-in with a rock dragon the moment everything around them shattered. You know, for REFERENCE!!

He ain't happy about this but he's getting by. (and taking care of himself, don't worry) ]

01. Scavenging and Survival
[ Despite his injuries (which were looked at and treated post-haste) and the fact that at the moment he can only see out of one eye, Yzak isn't deterred from moving. His legs and arms are fine, after all. So he helps with group efforts, looking for useful things, things to burn, things to eat, helping with the cooking.

He's trained for this sort of thing, so knows what he's doing, careful and thorough with all of his actions, offering guidance if needed. It's ... stressful, because how could it be anything else? And the stress can't help but show on his face from time to time, but ever the bullheaded, hard-working Major, he keeps moving despite it because he knows he has to. And being a Coordinator has its perks, because he's not as bad off where malnourishment is concerned. His abilities aren't as impacted, so he can still manage when it comes to finding water or hunting.

Others can join him when it comes to [a. scavenging], since teamwork is the key here! Will they be hindered by some stray coyotes or rock dragons in the process? Do they need to eat? Maybe those creatures that get the jump on them will regret doing so as they become their next meal.

When night falls and it gets [b. colder], Yzak isn't as affected by the drop in temperature, as his body can withstand stronger dips or rises. So if blankets are scarce, he won't be the first to touch one and let those who look more chilly grab them. Of course he still feels the cold, and too much time outside or not moving will get to him. Hm, hm, what can be done here! Whether they're somewhere as a team or Yzak's cleaned out and decided to spend some time in his room at the inn because he's stressed or exhausted or his injury is bothering him and doesn't want to deal with much else, he can be found for all of your tropey blanketsharing needs. (he might need to be bullied into it, but he'll bend)

Finally, on one of the days where there is some calm and Peter Quill has dragged Yzak along with Finn and Blue, he can be found having a gentle moment or two with some [c. baby sand whales]. Gingerly he'll reach a hand out, allowing one of them to come to him and gently nudge its nose against his palm. He doesn't smile, but the way his expression softens some is enough to show that someone's a big ol softie!!

02. Skirmishes and Struggles
[ As if things weren't bad enough? Man, fuck these Bouldersnake guys.

But as with the last few days here, teamwork is key. So anyone who wants some good fighty fight team ups with mutual support and rescues from close calls, can find Yzak in a predicament - a few of the more agile/stronger Bouldersnakes have decided to gather up and surround him. He manages to sidestep one that comes at him, but as these guys are basically skill-matching, he can only do so much on his own. After that first dodge, he begins to move away from a second and try to aim his gun at a third, but that first one manages to sweep a kick at his ankle. He loses the edge, and gets jumped, getting knocked in the head where his healing injury is and slamming to the ground, letting out a grunt of pain. Yzak doesn't let up, rolling out of the way when a Bouldersnake brings their boot down toward his head and managing to cut into one of their legs with his blade. But he's still overwhelmed and needs a hand here. ]

03. Wildcard
[ You know the drill! Down for anything. ]

04. OOC
Poke me at gaignun, Tara#1768, or PM here for any plans, discussion, questions, etc. Also always down with multiple threads, so if I hit you up somewhere and you want to do more/something else with me, don't be shy! sticks leg out

For Marta

[coordination]

[ Very few moments after the illusion around them all shatters, Marta's going to get a short message over the network, getting right to the point. Because someone had the illest of timing to be on the outskirts of town when everything shifted and ran right into a couple of rock dragons that he managed to make it away from. ]

Need some aid if you can spare it right now.

Your location?

drift — cars

[aurable]

( open and closed starters to follow — drift has a plotting comment here and feel free to hmu at discord @ bitchard#0228 or bretons)

( open )

[aurable]

1.0 + 2.0

[ Drift had spent the majority of the first night still using his holoform. After the illusion dropped with the finality of curtain call and all the abruptness of a sentence encounter the period he really didn't need to. Scorpion's Bend was a corpse long since picked clean and there was no one left to mourn even the bones of the crumbling buildings.

— Nothing about this was right, but he wasn't going to start processing it by thoughtlessly trampling over a mass grave.

In the evening, Drift meanders around with the others in relative silence. Picking through one of the more intact houses for anything useful, Drift stops by an old hope chest at the foot of the skeletal remains of a bed. The wood is half-rotted, and it looks as if it sags to one side almost through the floor. He picks through its contents and comes up short. In one hand, he holds a moth-eaten blanket that might either get someone through the night or disintegrate in their hands. In the other is a brass pitcher — inexpensive and only valuable for the inlaid design that looked personal, maybe even with an inscribed name. All of it lost to time. Drift frowns as he stares down at his findings. He turns, and more to himself says,] We never really knew any of them.

[ Night falls and the temperature sinks quicker than the moons. By the time there was only a silvery cast of thin moonlight between the gaps in the damaged buildings, it was nearly freezing. 'Drift' stands watch by the dilapidated remains of the stables as a weak fire struggles in a dug-out pit inside the structure. The hushed sound of — of all things — tires slowly rolling over the dirt path is heard just around the bend.

The rumble of an engine follows as the unmistakable shape of a car rolls up to the barn. The headlights are off to keep a low profile as the back door opens seemingly independently. Pushing himself off the door, Drift looks back and nods in the direction of the vehicle. ]

Could be a tight fit, but you'll be warmer in there.

4.0

[ Hell had broken loose with the sunrise. Not at all once or with especially dramatic flare, but once the scouting party start to creep in like weeds it was already too late. Drift had to go against everything in him to rush in headlong. Erring on the side of caution to see where he would be needed most as one of the team's heaviest hitters. Though he only had the luxury of caution for mere moments before the first shot went out.

Out in the middle of town, a pair of Bouldersnakes attempting to box you in look past you with a bewildered expression flickering across their faces. The roar of a car engine kicking up dust and rock at breakneck speed rushes up behind you.

— only to abruptly go silent.

Something massive eclipses the twin suns overheard before landing hard onto the ground below. What happens next is a chaotic whirlwind when what touches down between you and the Bouldersnakes is Drift — really Drift — at over thirty feet with both swords drawn, he casts everyone around him in shadow. Before anyone has time even to blink, one of the Bouldersnakes charges and suddenly matches Drift — inch for inch — the two titans lock weapons, and the force of it sends Drif's leg sliding back, taking out the old general store. Without looking back, Drift shouts ] Watch for the other one!

5.0

[ The raid goes further into town and if you happened to be trying to avoid the Bouldersnakes it was getting trickier by the second. The ominous hum of a weapon warming up and the jackal-like cackling of one of the 'Snakes sounds too close for comfort. Without warning a hand nearly as big as you are tall, maybe bigger, firmly wraps around you — a voice yells Watch out! — and you're pulled away. The place you were standing is now a burning crater and you're suddenly severely feet above the ground moving fast.

Drift skids on the wheels of the back of his pedes as he comes to a stop a short distance away out of the line of fire. With the utmost care, he sets you down back safely on solid ground. His white chest plate and flanks are peppered with gunshot and scorch marks. A riot of colors splashed across the rest of him — dull orange, noxiously bright green, but the most prominent was streaks of red almost anywhere his plating had been pristine white. A patchwork of blood sampled from any 'Snake he could get his hands on.

He smiles down awkwardly, ] Sorry, had to think quickly. You alright?

wildcard

( fuck me up )

the doctor (12) | doctor who — closed starters.

[attackbrows]

[ closed starters posted below. feel free to catch me via pm or plurk ( robutting ) if want to do something with twelve! ♥ ]

—ITACHI.

[attackbrows]

[Amidst all the chaos, the Doctor concentrates on the task at hand: stopping the Bouldersnakes in their tracks. The unfortunate thing about living in an old, isolated ghost town is that you have to really scrape the bottom of the barrel to pull out the good stuff. The spike in difficulty increases when you have an entire group of bandits on your tail with a deadly pulsefire at the ready.

Hidden between two buildings is the contraption the Doctor is diligently working on. He and the other young lad had been working together to ward off as many of the bandits off. He continues to pull and tug at the swaths of copper wires and makeshift circuitry as he looks up to see if Itachi is still in one piece.]

Daisy Johnson | Agents of SHIELD

[morethan084]

4.0

A LITTLE HELP HERE?

[Daisy knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened, but even still, they could only be so prepared against the Bouldersnakes. And while some of the Orbers run for cover, Daisy runs towards the inevitable fight. This time she’s at least more appropriately dressed for a fight. There’s no point in hiding the fact that she’s got powers now, especially when the orb is at stake.

It’s not long before she ends up in a fight against a few of them, and there’s no denying that Daisy isn’t at her strongest after not having slept well in a few weeks now, not to mention the lack of nutritional meals. But just because Daisy wasn’t at her strongest doesn’t mean she’s by any means weak. Throwing punches and grabbing one of the Bouldersnakes by the arm and using her momentum to throw them into one of their fellow bandits.

Caught off guard completely by the speed of which some of these bandits possess, Daisy doesn’t even blink before she’s knocked clear off her feet, landing hard enough on her back that it knocks the wind out of her. Being on the ground leaves her in a vulnerable position to be attacked again. Some help would be great right about now.]

NEED A HAND?

[Knowing now that some of these Bouldersnakes possess powers is helpful in how Daisy approaches the fight, and she relies more heavily on her powers now. Standing there as one of them runs at her, all Daisy has to do is lift her hand, and they go flying backward, colliding into one of the decrepit buildings.

Looking around to see where to go next, Daisy spots someone in trouble and wastes no time rushing over to help. Raising her hand again, she uses her power to break their knee caps with ease as they’re rushing at one of the fellow Orbers. They fall down immediately, howling in pain. Stepping over them, Daisy checks over her teammate to make sure they’re not hurt.]

Are you okay?

[Out of the corner of her eye, Daisy spots that same bandit reaching for their gun in desperation to get revenge. Stepping in front of her teammate as she turns to face the bandit, Daisy uses her powers to quake the gun apart.]

5.0 | CW: broken bones mention

[Daisy isn’t sure how long the fight against the Bouldersnakes has been going on at this point, but exhaustion is starting to set in. To the point that Daisy unwillingly lets her guard down long enough to almost get set on fire by a weapon that she has never seen up until this point. Raising her hands out in front of her to form a shield with her powers, the pulsefire dissipates once it has nowhere else to go.

The bandits seem just as shocked about this as she does, as they both pause for a second before getting right back into it.

Oh shit.]

Get behind me!

[Daisy shouts, grabbing for the person nearest to her and pulling them behind her and doing just as she had a few seconds ago, shielding them from the fire.]

WILDCARD

[Have something else in mind? Feel free to write something below or PM/message me on morethan084!]

4.0

[unbreachable]

[ Have no fear, your friendly neighborhood...jaeger pilot? is here. Raleigh sees her hit the ground and he's over there in an instant, blocking an oncoming attack that was meant for the woman behind him. ]

Hey--

[ He manages over his shoulder, shoving the thing off him after a sharp knee to the groin and a kick to the chest. ]

You okay?

dean winchester | supernatural

[ruinously]

1.0 - body heat meme and foodshare

[ Dean’s seen this movie before; he’s been left without food, water, basic commodities when his old man left town longer than usual. He’d been the one to pay for the hotel extra night, to slip through crowds and lift enough money to buy cereal and canned spaghetti-o’s for his little brother. He’d been the one to take care of him and raise him, build fires for him in abandoned cabins, pass over his blankets without hesitation, offer his share of a stale breakfast bar.

That’s what he’s doing now, slipping blankly into caretaker mode, because if there’s anything he’s good at, it’s this. John Winchester was a rotten, obsessed bastard, but he was a former marine who taught his kid everything he knew.

He’s managed to get a fire going, and if you come sit beside him, he’ll offer you some of his rations, or his blanket. If he’s already given the blanket away and you’re still cold, he’ll offer an arm around shoulders, because at this point they’ve gotta take care of one another, right? Otherwise, they’ll all die and then what’s the point of any of this? ]

5.0 bouldersnakes and firebombs

[ It’s different this time, he can tell immediately. When the ‘bandits’ came through last time, while there was a sense of danger, Dean hadn’t felt it in his teeth like he does this time.

This time, there’s hellfire and screaming, blue flames licking the edges of his vision as he runs, darting between crumbling buildings, wheezing as he grips his pistol tight, ever grateful it came with him on this journey.

Maybe you’re there when he rounds a building to hide, panting as he catches his breath before going back out to try and help, try and stop this from happening. If you need help to safety, he will cover for you as you escape the carnage.

Maybe you’re there when he finally takes down a Bouldersnake with a headshot and snatches that pulsefire flamethrower up into his hands. ]

Move–! [ He bellows, gesturing for his fellow orber to get to safety. ] Run, now!

(( ooc; open to any tag ins! If there’s something we plotted out with Dean, feel free to tag in with that as well! hit me up at pincurls if you want to plot anything else ♥ ))

1.0

[xwing]

[ naturally, luke eventually picks his way over to dean, dropping down to sit beside him. he tucks himself into the other man's side, ignoring the offered blanket for a moment as he gets comfortable. then he slings one side of the blanket around dean, and pulls the other side around himself, curling his arm around the back of the other man's waist. ]

You look like you're on autopilot, [ he admits to him in a voice only meant for dean, squeezing him once gently. ] Credit for your thoughts?

[ honestly, where would any of them even start? but more and more often, dean's kind of luke's priority for comfort and reassurance-- both offering it, and receiving it from being near him. and knowing what he knows about the older man, well.. ]

marta cabrera | knives out | closed

[naloxone]

( closed starters forthcoming; if you'd like to plot something out with me, feel free to send over a PM or reach out via baechwita )

11.

[naloxone]

[ somewhere between the first gunshot through the window and the subsequent shouting that followed, marta realizes that the initial plan of staying inside away from trouble has one glaring flaw: the trouble doesn't seem to respect being told to stay outside.

she's fairly proud of how quickly she switches gears, but admittedly the pride doesn't last for very long when her first step outside is immediately met with more hollering, the kind that implies her fear and scurrying is the exact type of response the bandits had been looking for and somehow that is the worst part of all this.

there's so many of them too. she swerves, she ducks, she tries to hide behind as many structures as she can get to but everywhere she turns there's always one of them, waving around a weapon of some kind, weapons that marta is very much devoid of (not that she'd know what to do with one anyway) and somehow she doubts the right hook ace had taught her would do her much good in this instance (especially because she still can't manage to do it properly enough not to hurt herself in the process).

but, what else is there to do but to keep running? her first hiding place compromised (probably torn down from the sounds of it) marta makes a mad dash to duck behind a wagon — only to nearly come colliding into another body. fortunately, a friendly one. ]

—Doctor?!

Megatron » Transformers IDW

[flickerandfade]

1.0 ( Open )

[ As night descends, it brings with it that cutting desert cold that can take unwary and unprepared travelers by surprise. Fortunately, those travelers are usually organics for whom relatively minor drops in temperature can be an issue. Megatron is not one of those and is doing quite well, thank you. Especially now that he hasn't any need to hide himself away. He's pulled himself up outside one of the crumbling buildings and sits in his little-seen until this point alternate mode, a large and menacing looking alien tank.

Fortunately for all of you shivering organics, he also puts out a lot of heat at this size. He has an engine and a spark and the gods alone know what else powering him, which means perching on his engine deck (or, if you're very polite) inside the control cabin makes for a much warmer proposition than thin blankets and guttering fires. He allows it, of course, but he doesn't have to like it. As someone clambers upwards: ]

Don't smear any of your excretions on me, if you can help it.

2.0/3.0ish ( For Dean )

[ With the sun beginning to rise, now's the time when there's light to see and to start searching for the necessaries of life. So his engine rumbles up from it's low idle and Megatron eases himself along the streets. He could take on his own form, but the tank is somehow less obvious than a nearly forty-foot robot. And treads can cover a great variety of terrain faster than feet.

So here he is, Dean in the commander's hatch as they move along a dusty road that might as well not exist, bumping and scraping along. It's not a smooth road, and the fact that megatron casually ignores the idea of avoiding potholes, dips, or large rocks probably doesn't help--he's mostly thinking about himself, sorry Dean. As they pull up atop a small rise, with the already burning morning sunlight beating down on them, Megatron speaks up. ]

Do you see anything? Any vegetation or sign of habitation?

[ There might be (some) water in town, but Megatron isn't about to let the party limit themselves to a single known source, just in case. ]

4.0/5.0 (Open)

[ As the renewed attack begins, Megatron moves to position himself somewhere with a good view of what's to be happening. He doesn't take a weapon himself (nor does he wish to, unless the most dire of circumstances arise), instead he's trying to coordinate, moving from place to place as quickly as he to carry information, to offer advice and keep everyone informed of the battlespace. As he watches the ebb and flow of the fight he is thinking, always thinking. Plans and possibilities raised up, considered, stored or discarded as the situation demands.

It's in this role that you might run across him, whether in his alt-mode or towering over the roofs of the decrepit town at his full thirty-eight foot height. He makes quite the landmark, though, so he may end up attracting the attention of some of the Bouldersnakes attacks. As the fight goes on, his voice comes to an ear: ]

Two hundred meters to your left. A group of them are attempting to approach through that gully.

[ Or: ]

Push forward to the right. They've lost some appetite for it there and we might be able to keep them on the back foot.

[ Or other commands. Well, advice. But they guy did lead a war for millions of year. ]

( If you'd like a different or closed starter, hit me up on plurk gravenrose )

1!

[xwing]

Excretions, Megatron? Really? [ he sounds like he's a heartbeat away from laughter, though, patting the tank fondly as he settles back against the outside of his cabin compartment. ] I hadn't planned to lick you, but now I'm considering it. [ he is not considering it and it's pretty obvious from his tone, but still.

he draws his knees up, looping his arms loosely around his thighs and trying very hard not to shiver. he's been surviving on, uh, less than he probably should have, considering--he has advantages in the force and being accustomed to lean times--and it's finally taking its toll. he's having trouble sleeping, trouble regulating his body heat, trouble with a lot of things. they need to get this finished, and soon, for everyone's sakes. ] Thanks for this, by the way. I know you're not really comfortable with it.

The Darkling || Grishaverse

[cruelyethuman]

Part I. dreaming is over

2.0 - foraging and finding shelter

[The town transforms before his eyes, the words echoing through his head, ringing as a warning before the town dies. Wilting like flowers before the frost, the wood warps and the tent vanishes. The hat on his head, protecting him from the worst of the heat from the twin suns and the layers of fabric that has swathed him for weeks - it leaves and he stands in under the desert sun, eyes wide and mouth turn down in a frown as all life bleeds out of Scorpion's Bend.

Night will get bitterly cold, as the warmth gathered in the sand leeches in to the dark night and he walks back in to town. Down the desolate and empty main street, eyes on the debilitated buildings that only yesterday housed so many people.

It takes hours, before he's found enough snakes. Enough firewood and the moons are already rising as he drags a moldy madras down rickety stairs.]

You can help, instead of just watching me.

Part II. Wake-up call

4.0 - enhanced interrogation

[The chaos spills in to the streets, as the Bouldersnakes roar through. Fast and hard, on horseback and with their weapons out. Shouting to each other as they rummage through every house, every building, every room.

And they're not being careful.

They know about the orb- somehow and the Darkling vanishes in to the deep shadows of his own making, watching them go through their messy business. Watches who obeys and who scowls at the barked orders. His black eyes never leaving the group, watching them as they scatter and tailing after the ones who snap to attention too fast. Who are too eager to please, who all but stumble over their own feet to follow orders given and who doesn't seem to think for themselves.

The flow of power between the members of the group is as easy to read as the current in a river, disrupted by rocks and a boy, curious and longing, stirring the water with a stick.

One of the Bouldersnakes go off by himself, his four arms waving in the air as he mutters to himself and as soon as they're out of sight, the Darkling gathers the shadows - calls to them from every dark building, from the mines and from the dead space beyond the stars - and it comes, like it always does, pooling around his feet and his fingers flick in the direction of the bandit.

Thick ropes of shadows wind themselves around the man's arms, pinning them to his side as the Darkling steps forward.]

Be quiet, or I will suffocate you and try again with your friend.

5.0 - fight me for it

[Surviving, there is nothing but this. To find water, to find the orb. The days pass in a blur of scorching sunlight and freezing nights until the Bouldersnakes make their move.

Invading the ruins of a lost town, howling like animals and shooting blue fire- he sees wolf-like creature burst in to flame, consumed in a second, leaving nothing but ash behind - and he moves with them. Running behind buildings, crouching for cover behind overturned and rotting barrels and every once in a while, thunder booms across the cloudless sky.

Shadows leap at his fingertips, and when the Cut fails - a second of doubt, of bone-rattling fear- before he slams his hands together, smothering the man with a thick blanket of darkness as he moves in, knife in hand and stabs it in to the center of the man's chest. The blood runs hot and wet over his hand.

A sword of some kind gets him in the shoulder, his own blood mixing with the filth and the grime and whatever ran through the veins of the bandits, drenching his shirt until it sticks to his chest.

Always moving, keeping an eye out for- talent. To lend a hand, to block a shot of pulsefire with a wall of shadows and to put out anyone unlucky enough to get hit with the blue fire by covering them with his darkness. They run vicious, almost as if they have a mind of their own (merzost sings in his blood, of how easy it would be... to create) and he Cuts.

The thin line of his shadow blade slicing through arms and legs, heads rolling and the blood of his victims streak across his face, it drips from his hands as he stands, panting and with his hands stretched out before him-]

Say something!

2.0

[morethan084]

[Daisy had quickly changed into her suit knowing the very real possibility that things could get worse at any moment, but it's not exactly built to keep her warm in the cold desert night.

She's just stepping into the house behind someone when she hears a familiar voice call out to the fellow Orber for help.]

I got it.

[Daisy steps around them and meets Aleksander halfway up the stairs to take the plaid fabric from him.]

Be careful coming down.

Newton Geiszler | Pacific Rim

[groupiedrifter]

I. THE DREAM DEFERRED

[Well, at least his birthday was before this mess, huh?

Still, it sucks, and he's a bit helpless when he watches the townspeople crumble away to dust. He'd hung out with a lot of them, y'know? He'd worked in the saloon and visited sindown and had a great time with the rowdiest of the bunch, even if they weren't... necessarily real. So it's easy to fall into a funk like so many others — even if his stomach is telling him to snap out of it and get to work. The best he can really do right now for those around him is to put his biological studies to the test: instruct on what insects and creatures are likely safe to eat (read: not poisonous and about to murder you) and how to find the appropriate wells of water beneath the soil.

He's tired, though, like the rest of 'em. Tired and annoyed and irritable and nervous about what happens next. They gotta find that Welford Branson guy, but Newt's... not helpful there. He'll have to leave it to the pros.

So he can be found in the saloon instead, quietly pecking at the half of the ivory keys left on the piano; it makes an ugly, distorted sound, the strings inside aged and in poor condition. The noise seems to weaken his resolve for just that moment, his expression falling into something hopeless.

When night falls, he goes to wherever the others have decided to hole up and sleep for the meantime. The air's gone terribly cold, and even with the blankets he's managed to scrounge from different places (and curtains, as the coarse material he's draped in implies) don't keep away the cold as much as anyone'd like. He ends up curled on the floor of the room some have started slumbering in, shivering stubbornly under his covers. Now's really not the time to bitch and moan, even if he would absolutely like to.

His stomach does it for him, though. The gurgling is loud and obvious, even if he doesn't say a peep in reaction.

He hates the cold so fucking much, man.

Irritability, thy name is Geiszler.

As he finally lulls into a sleep, things can only get worse from here. He knows it, dreads it, but there's no point in trying to side-step it; the memoryless nightmares strike him hard and fast, as they especially love to when there's a lot of strain and stress and mess in his head. He lays there twitching, a low moan of someone afraid leaving his curled up figure. If one listens, they may hear five little words:]


Just leave me alone, please.


II. YOUR WAKE UP CALL

[The attack is fast and ugly, but Newt was fortunate enough to be on the other side of the town. The danger's been mostly intercepted, and it gives him time to think. Think, think, think. His brain is a good one, it's a powerful one, it's awesome for situations where people need back-up. He's great back-up. And such a peptalk to himself is just what he needs before he gets to work. You don't have long he thinks. He grabs his suitcase lab, opens it up and starts putting everything on an old table in the saloon that he'd sat at many times before. He's got (1) sample to use — a knife imbued with pulsefire, dropped and discarded in a shuffle he wasn't apart of.

It shouldn't take him too long, he thinks, to make something out of this.

It's just chemical compounds, after all. Everything is made of something that can be counteracted. And that's just what people will find if they're here to defend the saloon or to check in on any survivors: Newton hunched over the table, rambling maniacally as the glow of the pulsefire illuminates his face. His gloves go up to his elbows, and he handles the energy with the utmost caution. Bits of old piano wire, mechanical pieces from discarded machines, all sorts of bits and bobs from the upstairs clocks left abandoned, they're taken apart and scavenged for pieces. Smeared with soot and running on fumes, Newt snaps urgently:]

Don't interrupt me right now! I got a flow! Just - just keep them away.

III. GUINEA PIG (CLOSED TO ITACHI)

[And eventually, near the last act of the waging battle against the Bouldersnakes -

He messages Itachi.]

I need your help with something.
Come to the saloon ASAP.

[The ninja may or may not be surprised at the mad scientist aesthetic he's got going on, hair unkempt and tie completely abandoned, oil and grease from his creations staining the front of his usually white shirt. He looks... a bit unhinged, but with it there's confidence.]

If it isn't my fire extinguisher! You ready to take some insta-death out of the equation?

IV. THE NEWTRILIZER | CW: violence

[After the Newtilizer is officially posted about, he'll make a point to start distributing where he can. The fight's already been going for a while, and time's against them. So with that in mind, he equips whoever is around him first, then stuffs his creations into a duffel that he slings around his shoulder before heading out into the battleground. He says with lingering mania:]

If you want something done, don't be a puss; do it yourself.

[He's gonna be bringing the supplies to you guys.

And for the most part, he's learned to make his way around a tense situation without getting shot, maimed, blown up, and so forth. Maybe being little and low to the ground helps? Yeah, that's totally it. Somewhere in his travels, he finally gets unlucky:

"What've we got here?"

He ends up grabbed by the back of his shirt like a disobedient pup, hoisted up off the ground effortlessly. His legs kick and flail and he reaches up to try and disentangle his shirt from the bandit's iron grip; the dude is huge, scales covering his arms and legs, his four eyes sharp and full of amusement. "Got something for me, little fella? Don't mind if I do-" He grabs Newton's duffel, and Newt panics, grabbing it to pull back to him. Panic and fear are at war with hungry, tired outrage, and he hollers:]

Get off me, you oversized prick-!

[And then proceeds to bite the wrist playing tug of war with him hard. It awards him being unceremoniously dropped to the floor, and he staggers and runs as hard and fast as he can with the duffel hugged to his chest. The scaly bandit, taller than Rosinante or Yamato, steps toward him with newfound disgust in his eyes. "You better not have any diseases, you filthy little desert rat," he growls, drawing a pistol imbued with pulsefire from his thigh holster.

Newt doesn't look back as the bandit aims his weapon carefully at the back fleeing from him. But the distressed look on Newt's face as he tries to get away says he figures he might get taken out trying.]

that one starter;

[blackfire]

（ he is very tempted to ignore it. there are other pressing matters to which he must attend — but he does not think newt is quite so foolish enough to ask for his assistance if it was not necessary for the betterment of the group.

so. he arrives, somewhat grudgingly. he looks remarkably unblooded given the intensity of the battle going on outside, his clothing still mostly clean and kempt. however, he no longer looks a cowboy — he's back in his shinobi clothing, loose and dark.

at newt's question, he cants his head faintly to the side. ）

You've been experimenting with pulsefire.

（ surely the fool doesn't intend to — ）

Zari Tarazi | Legends of Tomorrow

[catchatting]

1.0
It's dark and cold and everything is gross. Zari is not having a good time at all right now and while it's not exactly shocking to realize that the people aren't real, seeing that she's been sleeping, eating and bathing with bugs and vermin is pushing her a little past her limit.

Her skirts are thankfully voluminous enough that she manages to rip open the side seam and make the world's most okay-est blanket and leaving her in just a single layer of her underskirt. Now it's just a matter of finding someplace clean to sleep and maybe some willing body heat to be shared for the night, so she walks carefully through the dark streets of the town, looking for a familiar or even just friendly face.

"Okay, I am not sleeping on the dirt."

2.0
As much as Zari is not a fan of walking into danger, she knows that with her powers she does have a better chance of keeping herself alive than some of the others, so she walks carefully out of town in only her chemise and a pair of lazy bloomers because it's hot as hell during the day and she doesn't need all of her clothes soaked in sweat when the temperature changes again. She doesn't go far and there are others around her within sight, so she figures the least they can all do is look for food or water or some sort of clue.

What she doesn't expect is a giant whale.

The ground shakes, sand sifting below her feet and she realizes too late that she's not the only one who's too close to this massive displacement of sand that's now moving more like water.

"Because we needed to get dirtier?!" She does the only thing she can think to do and starts to swim against the current of sand.

4.0
Being a fighter isn't really Zari's main skill. She knows she's a valued member of the Legends back home, but fighting isn't really what she brings to the table unless the fighting comes to her. Well, today, the fighting is coming to her in a big way and she knows what to do.

Some of the orbers are great fighters and she knows it, but plenty of them aren't and given how her powers work, Zari's aim is to stick closer to people who need extra cover from a powerful gust of wind. Any shots she sees fired at her teammates will be deflected, debris that may fall from the rickety buildings will be caught and if there's a chance she can knock one of the Bouldersnakes over or knock their weapons away and into the hands of an orber, she will take it.

Zari isn't throwing punches or spilling blood in this battle, but she's coming alive in a way few have seen her, blasting gusts of wind and staring down the enemy without fear. She puts herself between her teammates and the dangers coming for them and as the fighting goes on, she finds herself closer to the action until she's watching the backs of those fighting, too.

"Get away from my friends, you ugly creeps!"

wildcard
[ lmk if you want something else! ]

1

[homeostatic]

"You shouldn't have to," McCoy interrupts from the awning of the long-abandoned General Store, a stack of kindling under his arm, the beam of his flashlight trained on the pitted wooden steps leading down to the street.

"Sorry if I startled you," he adds, coming down the steps toward her at an easy, if tired clip. "Sounds like you need a place to stay."

Peter Quill

[spacedisaster]

[ An open thread and some closed starters below! If you'd like to do anything specific, please feel free to send me a PM, contact me on Lylith, or hit me up on Peter's ooc plotting post.

OPEN | Hop in loser, we're gonna pet some baby whales | 4th of February

[spacedisaster]

[ Peter's jetpack doesn't make a lot of noise, and he had been using that to his advantage to sneak up on the feathered coyotes, who don't generally expect an attack from above, and hunt them for food. It's much the same with the bald vultures, although those have a worse temper and Peter has to make sure to single out one of them before attacking, lest the whole flock falls upon him.

They are all only one step better than eating snakes, but beggars can't be choosers when it comes to survival, and they had a lot of mouths to feed. February has just rolled in, and while Peter is starting to feel more fatigued than before, he can still manage. The date, when he bothers to check, doesn't go unnoticed, and a weight settles on the pit of his stomach. Chasing wild creatures, away from his team and everything he knows, it's not how he wanted to spend his 39th birthday.

He's pouting about feeling old when a huge, dark shadow falls upon him, shielding Peter from the scorching sun. When he looks up, he sees a pod of sand whales surging up among the sandy dunes. Ah, perhaps not everything is so bad. He's been flying alongside them before, every day a little closer, looking as non-threatening as possible, so they didn't go back under the sand to hide. They really are wonderful creatures, friendly giants that seemed to tolerate his presence as long as he didn't make a lot of noise.

With a smile now upon his face, Peter activated the jetpack and his boots and fries up near them, twisting in the air to avoid tails and the occasional flipper. They make clicks, whistles, and low song-like sounds as if in greeting, and Peter runs his hand over the side of one of the whales as it flies past. After it moves back under the sand, Peter is ready to leave when something bumps against his back and then chitters at him. He turns in time to see a couple of whales, much, much smaller than any other he's seen before, turning in the air and then flying down a little bit while still keeping him in their sights. ]

Oh, aren't you cute? Hi! [ They don't understand him, of course, but they keep their eyes trained on him and follow him around when he flies up in the air, before they lose momentum. They disappear into the sand, only to jump out of it a few seconds later as if trying to catch up with him. Peter laughs and starts playing around with the baby whales, flying close to the sand and then moving up as they start chasing him, flying alongside them or petting their backs.

By the time his feet touch the ground, running a hand through his hair to shake off the sand there, he'd almost forgotten about how much their situation sucks and is smiling broadly for the first time in days. He spots a nearby orber watching the whales and waves at them. ]

Ey! Pretty things, aren't they?