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

☆ clara.

[business]

( in reality, it happens very quickly.

however, rhysand sees the motions like they're wading through water — slow and warbled, pages of a book turned curly by the saltwater damage of the ocean. his little clara, toe to toe with bandit, pulsefire weapon raised. rhys has seen war, imminent destruction, and buried the bodies of brothers in arms, and actual family — his mother and sister's heads sent to him in s woven basket.

he didn't sit idly by then, either. with a lifted bit of shadow, the second the pulsefire goes off rhys captures it, the effort knocking clara on to her backside as the weapon backfires, except —

rhys is not a kind person. and killing this bandit quickly with his own weapon seems too kind of a death.

instead, it's a slow destruction — the likes of which clara is privy to, watching as a trickle of blood falls from the barely exposed eyes of the bandit, a gorey stain seeping through the fabric at his mouth as blood gets pulled from his weather-worn body, painfully. the man falls to his knees, too in pain to even scream — and in the blink of an eye he is no longer there, the settling shape of a man made into bloody mist sinking down to the sand. some of it stains rhys' body, as the irreversible magic trick shows rhys off from where he was poised behind the man — hands in his pockets, eyebrows drawn together, giving this illusion of nonchalance, when it actuality —

it took a lot of out him. perhaps more than that, he expects clara now to see him for the monster he is — which is a falling out he hadn't expected, even if he should've. still, her protection is a priority, and rhys steps forward through the bloodied mess of what once was a person, crouching down to meet her. )

Hey. ( blood got on her, too. fuck — maybe he should've just killed that guy quickly. ) You okay?

[bossily]

[She doesn't respond at first, her hands trembling as they cling hold of the gun in her hands. She had been cornered, and fired two shots. There hadn't been time for more before Rhysand had shown up, and she was already in shock from actually shooting someone that his method of killing only topples her over the edge.

She's not thinking rationally in those moments after the bandit dissolves into nothing more than blood, and she thinks for a moment that she must have been the one to do that to him. Maybe that's how his species dies, she thinks. And she instantly regrets ever having fired her weapon in the first place. As tears start to flow, she looks up to him with wide eyes.

That's the first moment she notices that he's there.

You okay, he asks, his words echoing in her mind. She's already covered in her own blood, adding more to the mix doesn't seem to go noticed for now. All she can fixate on is that she's just had a hand in killing someone.]

I killed him.

[Her mind races, mostly fixated on thoughts of how the Doctor is going to hate her if he ever finds out she's done this. It doesn't dawn on her right away that there's no way bullets could have done this. That it wasn't her. All she can do is drop the gun and nudge it away with the toe of her shoe. It doesn't matter if she was about to die, she's having some difficulty coming to terms with what she feels she's done.]

[business]

( he's seen shock before. illyrian warriors who spat on his shoes as he walked passed them in their training grounds, who were lucky enough to never cross his blade at the blood rite — he sees the extent of their war bred fears in clara now, the first strike of a bell that cannot be unrung. of course, the illyrian's had been trained for war since they were children, the etchings of fighting and violence practically woven into their blood — but even they feared, when the king of hybern attacked. even they died when amarantha killed them.

clara, he figures, has not been trained to be a warrior. it's a tell all tale between each of her blackened eyes, the image of a spooked animal, fear and pain like twins dancing in her gaze. rhys swallows dryly, thick eyebrows knotting. he fights every instinct in his body not to think i should've been quicker.

he is not quite successful. )

Clara. Darling. ( stealing away the gun, he tosses it somewhere in the distance behind him, keeping his gaze focused on her. lightly, a palm rests on her booted ankle, smearing the blood there. a bit of contact — he's not sure how she'd respond if he touched her skin. ) You didn't kill him. I did.

( he can't abide by that guilt resting on her shoulders — that bandit was hardly worth her heartbreak, let alone her tears. rhysand will lose no sleep over rendering him into oblivion. )

And I would do it again, without thought. I'd do it a thousand times. ( he isn't in the habit of making excuses for who he is as a fae male, monstrous and demonic as he might be. if someone puts hands on clara, they'll lose them. ) I do not regret, and neither should you.

[bossily]

[The sound of his voice pulls her out of her thoughts, her tunnel vision retracting all at once until she sees him perfectly clearly. The panic hasn't completely subsided, but there's rational thought there too, brought on by his presence. He speaks her name and she feels anchored to the reality of the situation, her hand reaching down to press atop his. She's still bloody from being attacked earlier, the wound on her head still left untreated.

When she looks down at their hands, she thinks what's a little more blood to add to the mix at this point? He's saved her, and now he's trying to save her from herself.

All she can do is try to stop crying as she nods in understanding.]

No regrets.

[Her voice sounds distant in her own ears, when all she can hear is the way her heart is rapidly pounding. But she's trying, because it's him. Because she cares for him and she doesn't want him to worry about her more than he likely already does. She's not weak, not a liability. She can handle the missions the same as everyone else here does.

Her hand touches at his cheek, making sure he's really there and all that just happened. He's so powerful he literally just turned someone into a mist shower of blood.]

Why are you so set on protecting me?

[It's easier to think on it that way, to realize she'd likely be dead right now if he hadn't shown up and protected her. She hadn't killed anyone. Even now he was trying to protect her from her own mind. But she had tried to harm someone. And that's the part that terrifies her.]

cw: brief sexual abuse mention

[business]

( why?

a thousand different answers swarm his head — the things that feel right to say, and the things that feel honest. rhys thinks of all the cruelties of the world he knows, a weighs them against the power of clara's chilly hand, nodding off into her touch with an idle nuzzle. because she's good. because she deserves a life undeterred by pain and suffering. because if anyone deserves peace, it's clara oswald.

which is all true, but rhysand is far more greedy than that. he squeezes a hand on her knee, watery purple eyes flickering between each of hers. )

Because you look at me like you aren't afraid of what you see. Because you don't say my name like it's an insult.

( dog and whore and monster and demon — it's the definition of who he is, it's what the world has decided he's synonyms with. not clara. she feeds him chocolates and doesn't know he'd spent the last fifty years of his life fucking the enemy — she doesn't know the horror he's seen, the trauma he's inflicted. she makes him feel like he's worthy of more than just an unmarked grave in the snow. )

And because you've always been kinder to me than I've deserved. I value kindness — it's in short supply where I'm from, yet it rolls off you in waves. It's like you're a diamond mine, made up of precious gems. Do you know how special you are, Queen Clara? Do you know what it means to me, that you let me be near you?

( why does he protect her? because she's his friend. because he has so few of them, he's capable of giving each and every one of them his everything. )

[bossily]

[It's hard to imagine a time before she knew him. But of course she had, they had only met a couple of months ago. She can still remember meeting him on Christmas night, and how he had made her sadness feel like a distant memory. And here he is now, constantly saving her and calling her Queen Clara and making her feel special.

She stares up at him with wide, watery eyes. Her lower lip trembles. the way he speaks, he must come from a terrible place with a lack of love and compassion. It's no matter, she'll give him all that he needs here. Because he's gone and embedded himself in her heart, and made himself essential to her.

Her lip continues to tremble, even as she puts a smile on her face. And from her position in a heap on the ground she launches herself forward, tackling him in as tight of a hug as she can manage. She's so much smaller than he is that there's no real risk of him being toppled over.]

How could I ever be afraid of someone as wonderful as you are?

[Her words are muffled as she presses her face into the curve of his neck, letting her tears fall onto him as she both seeks and gives comfort with her embrace.]

[business]

( the reality is apparent only to rhysand himself — he is not wonderful. there is blood splattered on clara's face like a sea spray from where rhys had killed a man in cold blood, with a snap of his fingers, without even thinking. is that bad? he's killed people far less guilty before. he's killed his own kind. prythian is a nature riddled country with flora and fauna of all sizes, emptied out right from a children's storybook — but it's built on blood. gallons of it. ocean fulls.

he can't help but feel guilty. you don't know the arms you're jumping into, he feels inclined to say, to confess to sweet clara the worst of his sins until she knows how not wonderful he is, until she knows him for what a liar he is. but you can always count on the fair folk to be greedy, in terms of sweets and trickery, but hugs as well. rhys wraps two arms around her waist and swivels them to the side, so she doesn't have to see the puddle of red seeping into the dust over his shoulder. poor bandit — but rhys was being honest when he said he wouldn't mourn a man who'd hurt her. he stares at the stain and only feels vindicated. )

You know what you are?

( he forces a bit of jolly good nature into his voice, burrowing his nose down in the curve of her shoulder before tugging lightly back, keeping clara's little form situated against him. )

Very pretty. But this gash? ( a hand skirts up her back, tenderly brushing the hair away from the site of gore. ) Not your best look. Let's go get it cleaned up, hm? And then we —

( his long ears flicker, not unlike a fox twitching in the direction of something instinctive, something initiating a primal urge. his expression goes just on the side of fierce, looking out into their near surroundings. battle beats in his blood, the illyrian inside of him starved for sweat and violence. )

More are coming. ( in explanation. he turns his eyes back to clara, lifting a brow. ) Fight or fly?

( he might mean that second option literally. but. who's to say. )

[bossily]

Fly?

[her answer comes without hesitation, even if it's more of a question. He's a fae, and somewhere in the back of her mind that registers. So of course he can fly. But is it more of a magical teleportation sort of thing, or does it involve wings?

Now really isn't the time for her to be this curious. Especially with as dazed and out of sorts as she is from her lovely head injury. So she gives a nod, even with how her face is still buried against his chest. She's safe and sound with his hand against her back, and nothing's going to harm them because they're going to fly away.

It's all incredibly storybook, and for once she's not complaining.]

You and me, we'll fly away from here.

[Her arms wrap tighter around him, further getting a mixture of her blood and that of the Bouldersnake all over him. She doubts he'll mind though. Just as long as she stays close and out of trouble.]

[business]

( he gives one, firm nod of reassurance — in not so many words offering her the title of boss all over again. it's easy to curl his arms around her little body, propping her legs up until he can wrangle his arm beneath both of her knees, standing effortlessly with her in tow, cradled to his chest. in the distance, a dust cloud hints at the arrival of bouldersnakes in their direction, rhys' gaze fierce for all of a second before he turns softer on looking at clara, catlike in pushing his nose affectionately against her temple. )

If it's scary, don't look down. ( inexplicably, a set of massive wings that hadn't been there a moment ago unspool from his back, a mass of inky shadows that solidify and take form. rhys gives clara a squeeze. ) I promise not to let you fall. You'll just have to trust me.

( a massive wingspan stretches out, loud whoosh, whoosh sounds thrumming in the air as rhys beats his wings against the ground, propelling them up and up steadily, slowly. this kind of flight takes the most amount of effort — it's generally preferable to start from a height and dive down, though it isn't an option for them in a speedy get away. dots of sweat dapple his forehead, though he doesn't look strained — the odd scent of orange and rainwater filling the space between them as rhys gets high enough —

and then swooping down, catching an air current before they hit the ground again and setting them off and into the sky, his massive wings propelling them forward. all the while, he keeps clara safely, warmly coddled to his chest, ever careful not to squeeze too tight on his delicate little humans. )

[bossily]

Of course I trust you.

[If he worries Clara's going to be afraid of flying, he'll be pleasantly surprised when she does the complete opposite. Despite her exhaustion and the fear of nearly dying, she's at peace up in the air. If anything, she's excited by getting to fly, eyes bright with curiosity and energy as he carries her. She laughs, a giddy and delighted little sound that rings out through the night.

She squirms just enough that an arm can stick out, and she can feel the wind moving through her fingers. This is absolutely lovely. And she'll have to approach him about doing this when violence and dangerous situations aren't involved.

But for now, she's content to settle up against him once the novelty of the initial takeoff is over, letting him get them both somewhere safe and sound. That feeling of being wrapped in protective arms combined with sheer exhaustion get to her quickly, and he'll notice she goes still and becomes a dead weight in his arms before they ever reach their destination. She trusts he won't let anything happen to her. Just this once, she'll give in and rest when her body needs it.]