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

[cruelyethuman]

[The rifles fire again, the flames roaring higher and almost reach the top of the shield he's thrown up around them but that doesn't matter. What matters is her fingers clenched in the blood-soaked shirt he's wearing, her shaking shoulders trembling against him and the words that barely make any sense that falls from her bloody mouth.]

Are you hurt?

[His hand shakes, fingers splayed to keep the shadows from escaping his grasp, building the wall higher and higher until they're in a dome of darkness.

The noises from the Bouldersnakes come through, loud and clear, the jeering laughs and the boisterous gossip of men convinced of their own inevitable victory. They walk closer, the boots crunching through the sand just outside of the bubble he's placed them in.

They have seconds only, but he looks down anyway, blood roaring in his ears and cold hatred seeping through his veins as his gaze flicks up to follow the sound as they try to surround the ball of darkness.]

We can figure that out- later. [There would be a later] Come with me.

[His hand in hers, as he throws his hand out again, creating a tunnel of darkness that cuts through the group of bandits like a swath of shadows.]

[peasant]

[ is she hurt? quickly, she shakes her head from side to side, the motion whipping dark strands of rumpled hair into her cheeks. truthfully, time hasn't allowed her to take stock of her injuries, of the fresh grazes and abrasions earned from her scuffle in the street, but — she knows better than to answer with a firm yes. she has no need, nor any desire, to find out how tempted by retaliation he might be.

enough to lose sight of getting them to safety, perhaps, to instead sate his bloodlust until there's no droplet left to wring out of their corpses. the thought alone sends her in a new shudder.

even in the span of a few seconds, it feels like an eternity before the darkness bends to his command, burrowing a path down the middle of the crowd. a heaving exhale gusts out of her, equally relieved to find the warmth of his palm brings the same surety to her veins as it always has. a beckoning call to the heart of her power, a reassurance that it hasn't been taken and twisted into someone else's weapon for a second time.

she stumbles down the path he's created with him before she can fully process that choice, fogged in darkness, ignoring the throbbing flare in her ankle — a sprain adrenaline must have numbed while caught in the crosshairs of that mayhem. her jaw clamps as tight as the metal springs of a hunter's trap against the pain, trying to stifle the pained hiss that seethes out from behind her teeth.

she's only liable to endanger every orber, if she lingers in the open. if she continues to join the fray. still — she halts abruptly to peer back at the fading buildings, once the distraction of her relief begins to fade. her knee buckles into a hobble from the movement, her side bumping his as her protest leaps out of her throat, fierce and frantic. ]

But the others —

[cruelyethuman]

The others will be fine.

[Between the combined efforts of every orber in town and the weapons forged or brought here from the station, they're at least holding their own. For the most part. There had been bloody faces peering back at him as he walked the main street, hands out and darkness swirling like a storm brewing behind his back.

The darkness was no friend to any of the invading bandits, and they learned. How to start firing as soon as he stepped closer, as soon as the darkness went from pale moonlight to the solid dark of a starless night around them. The guns and rifles booming louder than his Cut, and he learned too.

How to sneak past their guards, how to crouch low and dodge the incoming knife aimed at his throat.

He catches her as she stumbles, her weight too slight and she weighs nothing. Like she's already turning to dust, her bones hollow like a bird's and it was only a matter of time before she flew away on the desert breeze. Or that might be the delirious thoughts of dehydration and exhaustion speaking, as he gathers her closer with his arm around her waist.]

Will you come if I go back.

[Stubborn and sacrificial, and he remembers her previous offer to the other orb. To let it feed on her, to save everyone else. He still doesn't know where it is, but Alina might be willing to offer the same to these brutal bandits if it brought a measure of relief for someone else.

Balanced. His urge for revenge, to rend flesh from bones until he stands over the bodies of his fallen foes. Never succumbing to double-edged sword of mercy, or to the wordless pleas from his enemies. And Alina, too willing to offer herself up, like a lamb to the slaughter, to reach the same end.

Victory.]

I can-

[Do many, many things to the Bouldersnakes currently searching the abandoned house behind them. Could leave her here, under the five moons and the pinpricks of stars in the sky, to make sure they couldn't follow. Broken bones and suffocation could slow down even the strongest of them.

He could kill them all, raise a wall of darkness or call on merzost to fill them with the shadows of creation. Another uncontrollable army of volcra, but he knows- feels it, somewhere deep inside, close to the tether that binds them together- that he could do better. Could breathe life in to more perfect beings than the flawed half-humans of the Fold-

Instead, he scoops her up in his arms, his shirt sticky with blood and his face a mask of dried gore, and starts walking away from the calls and the explosive blasts of guns.] - help. You. Them. When you're safer.

[peasant]

[ from her perch against his chest, will you go if i come back? sounds like a separate question altogether: will you cooperate if i go back? alina's answer is a silent confirmation as her fingers knot in his bespattered shirt, even as some immediate squeaking protest at being carried away barrels past the lock of her mouth, surprised to find herself hauled into him with all of the consideration someone would give a sack of potatoes before lifting it.

— or a feather, for how effortlessly gathers her. some part of her wonders if he hadn't been waiting for the opportunity, cutting of her argument at the knees, leaving no possible leg to stand on. or to run on, for that matter, back into the fray of the fight. her heart wildly oscillates between pounding in frustration and the fluttering, unwelcome sensation of feeling assured by aleksander's protection. no dragon lets another living thing get close to its hoarded treasure, after all — she supposes it's the same concept, here.

annoyed with herself and the traitorous reaction from her own pulse, she grumbles, ] I would have come with you, you — [ a helpless splutter. ] — you brute.

[ it's not her most convincing objection to being carried by him. her fingers latch themselves onto his shoulders, body bobbing with every step he takes. as she peeks over the breadth of him, nothing but the darkness they've left behind them greets her, a void lit up by sparks of blue pulsefire trying to puncture the barrier. her head tips toward him, barely resisting the urge to retch at the coppery scent of blood thick in her lungs, drying on his skin in sticky splotches. ]

Promise me, [ she says, a sudden fierceness layering her voice in iron. ] Promise me you will go back. Promise me you'll help them.

[ something unspoken slithers through that adamant need to hold him to that vow. something that suggests there will be no forgiveness from her, if he goes back on her word. with how useless she's proven to be, loathing herself for her inability to do anything, he remains her only hope for defending those she's left behind. the doctor. clara. newt. yelena. all of those that are perfectly capable, and still so —

unlike aleksander, unlike her. too breakable, too human — too important to her to abandon to harm. ]

[cruelyethuman]

You've got blood on your face.

[As if that explains why he's stalking across town, shadows trailing in their wake to cover their tracks as he seeks shelter. For her.

Somewhere safer than his bloodied arms to place in her, far from the explosions of the strange weapons and the laughing men that seem determined to tear this town apart to find- the orb.

He'd found one weak enough, frail enough, to spill it all. Hidden away from the fights and the screams covered by smothering shadows, he'd made the man tell him the truth. That the orb had called for the Bouldersnakes. That it was behind this, all of this. The disruption of his nights and mornings-

Alina, alive and breathing, cradled as she is against his sticky chest and his hand curve around her shoulder to grip the knob of bone. To feel her, more real and warmer, than the gore that paints him from top to bottom.]

I promise. I will go back, I will help. But you need to be safe.

[He doesn't examine why, this urge to steal her away and keep her. This itching annoyance at having the night split with screams and gun shots when he could be - when he should be occupied with something else. The inkling of what once have been fear, tickles down his spine as the pulsefire rips through the barrier he erected behind them and the voices are much closer.]

You have my word.

[peasant]

[ and he has a shower of blood all over him. alina doesn't continue the trend of pointing out what's obvious to them both. instead, she lifts her ragged sleeve like it's an afterthought, scrubbing at the tacky smear sloping down a cheek. it only cakes the crimson stain further into her cheekbone, a gory rogue to decorate her complexion. still, it serves its purpose — something to distract her as she openly searches the abyssal pool of his eyes.

the problem with wanting is that it makes us weak. the truth of that warning pounds through her, exists in the fragile hope that expands in her chest. aleksander's words carry as much weight as air, and as much certainty as knowing when and where the current will shift — but she wants, so devastatingly, to believe it isn't another sweet-spoken lie. it almost leaves her resolve in ruins, destroying the well-earned doubt she's clung to, to avoid ever again accepting his word as gospel.

perhaps she can set it aside, this once. a heavy breath gusts out of her, unburdening herself — of her reluctance, of responsibility. ]

Okay, [ she says, like hearing her agreement spoken aloud will convince her it's the right choice; then again, what choice does she have at all? leave and endanger their group. stay and endanger countless lives. she can't be the catalyst for yet another town being laid to waste in a scourge of death. ] Okay.

[ — not that there's much allotted time to debate it. his barrier seems to ripple in response to the wound pulsefire has inflicted, ripping an entrance through its structure. her heart leaps into her mouth, a cold shock of fear skittering along her spine as the bandits filter through. their silhouettes are little more than a blip in the darkness, but the crunch of footsteps in the near distance —

it's enough of a warning that they've come too close to finding them. alina's lungs seize around a breath she doesn't take, holding it in her throat. in a quiet whisper she aims near aleksander's ear, an unmarked piece of skin that seems to miraculously escaped bloodstains for now: ] What if there isn't a place that's safe?

[cruelyethuman]

[Months ago, he had turned away when David placed the antlers around her neck and fused them to her bones. Staring blindly at the black canvas of his own tent as the amplifier had been secured around her throat, a collar to lead her by, the leash fastened to the flesh of his hand and for the first time, he'd felt what it was like to yield the Science of Sunlight.

The heat of her stolen Small Science had crackled across his skin, had stolen his breath away with its beauty and its potential. She would always be his, the slaughter of the stag and the ritual in his tent had guaranteed it.

And she still ran.

Just he sees, superimposed and flickering, an image of her spread out on his bed roll with her hair fanning out like a halo around her flushed face, the small smile she seems to only direct at him after sex, the gentleness of her touch in the moments after. The soft warmness of her embrace, of her hand in his in sleep, the pitter-patter of his own idiotic heartbeat against her back. Before they both remember who and what they are, and he always sees that, looking at her. But there will always be a second image, the golden lights of oil lamps and her face twisted up in pain and fury, the skin around her collarbones splitting and angry-red around the protrusions. Her defiance still proudly on display and spitting from her eyes.

Looking down at her in his arms, the frantic flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat that he can barely make out in the dark, he doesn't know which image he wants more.

Just knows that he wants her, in all ways.]

Then I will make you one.

[Dark eyes blazing with his promise, with the weight of all of his years and his experience with war. With murder and the cruelty of men, as he stops.]

Run, Alina. Hide.

[The place without bandits, as he sets her down gently, hand lingering against her back and shivers rushing down his spine from the breath she blew against his skin.]

Run to the mines if you have to.

[Turning, back to Alina, and his arms outstretched as the shadows stops swirling like mist around them and instead rushes in, a tidal wave of darkness barreling through the night to heed his calling and the Darkling slams his hands together, the thunder of his Small Science rolls around the cloudless sky as the Cut flies through the air. It might not cut through every bandit, but... well, no one could run without legs.

They come out of the darkness, knives and guns blazing, the eerie light of the pulse fire flashing through the shadows that he bathes them in and a bullet zaps past his shoulder to explode against the desert sand.]

Run!

[peasant]

[ alina's heartbeat lurches to a stuttered stop. then i will make you one — she doesn't have to ask with what? his shelter is always built on the corpses of their enemies, held together by the sticky spill of sacrificial blood. with aleksander, there is no safety — not without a cost. not without pain, or tears, or the loss of many.

her eyes lock onto the rising tide of darkness, a swell of shadows surfacing around his silhouette. the skies above deepen to tar, a stormcloud of rolling fury. for a paralyzed moment, alina is trapped within that pooling ink of power, floating back to a different world. a different memory. the shrill cries of families fleeing in vain. the ear-splitting answer of volcra descending like vultures careening toward a fresh carcass. novokribirsk, drowned beneath a blackened sea.

his bellowing order slices through her recollection, slicing her free from that relived nightmare. a gasp sears in her lungs, grabbing greedily for lungfuls of air, like a woman pulled back from the brink of death. like her heart has restarted in her chest, pounding to announce you're alive, you're alive. a reassurance. a warning. blindly, she fumbles for his sleeve, flinching as a man is halved like butchered meat.

pitched high with distress: ] Aleksander —

[ stop, she wants to shout, distraught at more merciless bloodshed in her name. stop this. the atmosphere turns too thick, obscuring her vision. her fingertips only graze empty air, curling around nothingness. she stumbles forward, determined —

and immediately flinches back into the pouring fog that seems to divide them as a bullet whizzes past her. a shriek dies in her throat, choking out of her in a yelp. run. hide. that's all she's ever done. sometimes, it feels like all she'll ever do. still, the next explosion that lands at her feet sends her stuttering back, wincing as she darts toward the townline. the shooting pain in her ankle protests, wobbling dangerously until she's hobbling, spilling down into the muck of scorpion's bend.

her hands sink into the sandy terrain, dragging herself to the safety of the town's perimeter on skidding knees, ignoring the stones that slice against her grimy palms. ]