welcome to the horologium.Some of you know it is coming. The World Jump, the chaotic thrust into a new universe. But some of you are new, and though you know what the mission is, it is a bit . . . troubling, sitting around and waiting for something to happen. But eventually, you get a message on your watch. It shows Astoria . . . dark hair framing her features, her voice light and musical. She sounds like herself, for the first time in some time . . . that spark of determination back in her eyes. A MESSAGE FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD WITCH. "It is time, my beloved Travelers, to go to our new destination . . . and I want you to know that I have the utmost faith in you. Akvos' loss has hurt us all, and I know that many of you doubt our mission. But please believe me when I say that you have done the best job anyone could ask of you. Akvos' destruction was not your fault . . . and to our newest members of our Circle, welcome to our journey. I can only hope that your journey here will work out to the benefit of us all."
That being said, you are journeying to the Horologium . . . it is a ship that has sent out a distress beacon. I am not sure when, or where, but I can feel great darkness, emanating from that place. I believe you all can combat what is done there, without interacting with the Void . . . so please, be safe, and I will see you all when you return."
And, just like that, there is a pull in your stomach . . . your vision blacks out and you feel the sudden sense of vertigo, a sensation of falling, and then . . . nothingness. You open your eyes, and you are suddenly waking up in the midst of . . . fog?
 THE AWAKENING.When you wake, you are greeted by metal — there’s an expanse of silver all around you. The cot you’re laying on is somewhat rigid, like a flattened wedge of cotton more than anything, encased in a capsule-like structure. Should you inspect your surroundings, you’ll find that there are three more cots in your room..or more notably, another person in the room in of itself. Depending on where you’ve been roused from your slumber, however, you’ll find that your circumstances differ.
➜ If you’ve woken up in the northeast wing of the ship, there seems to be a pool of saturated pink goo at your feet. It sticks to the bottom of your heel and collects at the very center of the room, oozing from the cracks and crevices within the metal lining of the walls. And even more notably, the goo has a particularly saccharine scent, as though it’s meant to be...consumed. Looks like you had the misfortune of waking up in the wing adjacent to the kitchen.
➜ In the northwest wing, the ship is functioning at an all time low. When you wake, the room is illuminated for a brief moment...before flickering out, only to leave you in pitch darkness. Power returns to the room intermittently and only for a few seconds at most, but it appears as though you and your newfound roommates will have to navigate the darkness if you want to leave.
➜ In the southwest wing, the fire alarm in your room has been activated for some inexplicable reason. It’s an obnoxiously loud siren that slices right through the whirring of the machinery around you — and it goes as far as to trigger the sprinklers hanging from the ceiling. Water sprays from above you, hopefully ensuring that you’ve woken up if nothing else has. It doesn’t seem to be draining either, so it may be for the best that you escape with some haste.
➜ In the southeast wing, your circumstances are for the most part rather unremarkable. An untouched room, mostly intact...until you try to open the door. It won’t budge — unless you have some form of super strength, your muscle power is rendered useless on its own. You might just have to commission someone else to help you...
Beyond your room, the word “Horologium.” stretches across the wall.
Welcome to your new home.  WHISPERS IN THE DARK.In a way, it feels as though you’re suspended in time.
The ship is always humming, always whirring as it makes a haphazard attempt to function. The noise comes to a halt every so often, leaving you with nothing but silence and the idle creaking of the floor beneath you.
There are remarkably large, bright white doors that divide each and every wing. A circular window is positioned at the center of all 4 of these doors: but nothing can be seen through it. It’s likeness is that of a black hole’s, like someone had gone as far as to paint over it.
On every door, the same word is emblazoned in black lettering: EXIT.
Except the word itself appears to be scratched out to some degree — as though it were scrubbed out in a fit of desperation but remained no less.
When you see the door, you might be overcome with excitement. Or perhaps not. Regardless of what your reaction is like, the lights around you will dim and flicker at an alarming frequency. For a moment, it’s almost as though the gravity around you has slowed, and the hallways are becoming narrower by the second.. Voices and faces from the past emerge in your mind. You see someone you shouldn’t; they’re calling for you. They’re here with you right now, beckoning you to come closer...
If you reach the door and attempt to open it, it won’t budge. And the further you walk away from it, the more the effects will subside.
But there’s no telling if you’ll sleep well tonight.  INVESTIGATIONSThe ship is fitted to house approximately 500 people — it’s a bit of a ghost town, however, lived in but abandoned no less.
The chairs are in the mess hall aren’t aligned perfectly. The tables are a bit crooked. The lounge is lofty, but not pristine. The rooms may be barren, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that they were somehow someone else’s before they became yours. There’s an array of locked doors, varying in sizes and shapes, all of which withhold something potentially useful to you. You may be inclined to visit the lounge, the mess hall, rifle through the bedrooms . . . the ship is yours to explore.
However, how you interact with the ship is….entirely up to you. There is something to be found everywhere. Regardless of what you do, where you investigate and how, you might be tempted to look behind your shoulder.
After all, every decision you make matters...right?
(Every Player’s investigation prompt has the potential to differ greatly as your investigation will require mod input. We encourage you to ask as many questions as you would like, we are here to help and provide you with the information necessary.) Additionally, please feel free to write up and work with your own prompts! These areas of the world are presented as jumping off points for your characters, not limitations. The idea of this world- as with all the others- is to explore -- you may use as much leeway as you want in order to come up with what your character will do. If you have any other questions, please feel free to ask them back on the various threads back in the OOC post from before! |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
acatamods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
acatalepsy_logs2019-02-12 12:27 pm
1a
He turns his head when his friend speaks up. He hasn't seen Barabas in shift, but he finds it fascinating. The blending of human and beast looks almost like he's always been in that shape. The thread of panic from waking up here weaving through his thoughts is banished with an effort of will. Not the time. He joins him at the door and raises himself up to tear at it with his claws.]
no subject
[The bouda admits, conversationally enough. He'd seen the reaction, minor though it was, and given that Shiro has recently shared some of his experiences of horror in space, Barabas is clever enough to have a theory or two. But he won't bring it up. The other man is powering through, and until the door is opened at least, they need that.
So instead? Chatter. His voice is gravely, but he's mostly glad he's worked out speech in this form -- he'd done it in his normal half-form a long time ago, and it seems at least some of the skills of shift and such have carried over. Thankfully.
For now though, he sinks claws as deep into metal as they can go, gripping.]
Together now? [RIP this door.]
no subject
Right. We move on 3. 3....2...1, pull!
[Shiro puts all of his muscles to work and pulls.]
no subject
Barabas growls lowly as he pulls as well. Claws scrape over metal, but he keeps his grip at begins wrenching.
The door creaks, groans, sounds no solid object should make -- but it is being torn apart by two shapeshifters simultaneously so it can't really be blamed. Slowly, a crack appears at the seam.]
Mm... almost. Keep pulling!
no subject
He puts his weight into it and digs his back feet in. He can hear the groan of the door as their combine strength is put against it. They need to get out into the hall. Gravity and air are still on. Power seems to be decent. He can’t hear any chatter. ....so far no way to determine why they sent a distress call.]
no subject
There... can you wedge it open? Some leverage should do it.
[Go Shiro go.
Then once they're out, well, who knows. But out comes first.]
no subject
Yet strange for Shiro there's no encouragement. He's just seemingly mindlessly focused on his task.]
no subject
Besides, the door is opening and Barabas shifts his grip to wrap clawed hands around on edge through the cap and wrench.
And finally the door gives way. He growls out a triumphant sound, bleeding into the unsettling laugh of a pleased hyena. Very encouraging.]
Freedom. Excellent.
[Except now it's just a terrifying hallway.] ...is this a space ship.
[Why. Why this. Why.]
no subject
...latin?
[He glances down the hall and catches sight of the door further down.] Astoria did say we were answering a distress call. Only way to know for sure is to keep going.
no subject
[Barabas nods, cocking his head to the side in a bizarrely canine gesture.] My non-legal Latin is a bit rusty, but I think that's right.
[So that raises questions.] If it's Latin, then I wonder if that means we should expect this to be a human vessel.
[Is that reassuring or not? He nods though.] You're right. We need to find the source of the signal. And the crew.
[Because there should be a crew, right?]
no subject
If there's trouble he'll be ready for it. He adjusts his helmet and moves his right arm slightly away from himself as he approaches the door.]
I'm not hearing any fighting. They might have thicker walls or insulation. This would be easier if my armor was working right. [He checks his watch at a glance. No need communications.]
No strange watch communications...
no subject
Neither am I. There's movement though. ...perhaps the rest of us waking up.
[Nothing that sounds like violence. And no discernible voices.]
That's right. Not like the way that Akvos began. No sign from that king.
*no new. thanks phone
The door at the end of the hall moves smoothly like any other ship door. Shiro blinks at the well lit space. The rows of chairs and tables coupled with the window at the far side of where they are...]
It's a mess hall. Looks like the power is working here. [He checks his watch again. Nothing. His eyebrows furrow as he says quietly.] Still no sign of anyone.
At least we know we're dealing with a potentially big crew.
no subject
[Capsule beds, like spaceage coffins. Barabas doesn't have Shiro's history, but they're still unsettling.
He follows along, looking around.]
A crew who is, hopefully, the source of the distress beacon our dear esteemed Astoria mentioned?
[As opposed to it being sent by something more sinister.]
no subject
[He trails off and glances at Barabas.] Well, aren't we a cheery pair.
[Yet the horrid joke and scenario eased up the pressure he felt bearing down on him like a hand holding him down. Shiro laughs, it sounds a little strained but nothing like before.]
How about we take this one step at a time and prepare to defend ourselves, just in case.
no subject
[Barabas points out blithely, or well, at least as blithely as one can when one's mouth has too many too sharp teeth.]
But one step at a time is probably the better approach.
[He thinks they're pretty good on the self-defense front for the moment. Hopefully. But the more they know they better prepared for that they'll be.]
no subject
No food stains or spills. He stops and finally looks at the window.] ...we’re on a ship or a station.
no subject
[Barabas follows and looks out the window. Space. The final frontier. Awesome. In the post-Shift world, he didn't grow up with dreams of being an astronaut, after all.]
So. We're in space. On some station or vessel that seems far too empty to be reassuring.
no subject
It’s cool to the touch and exactly what it appears to be.] This ship isn’t moving. Even a damaged ship can limp along but they stopped this one.
Why risk the fuel and resources? [His mind is so full of the ghosts that he lifts his arm to hit his com and stops. His armor isn’t functional. He blinks then lets his arm fall as he retreats from the glimmer of the stars.] Lets keep moving. We need to Id anything we can.
no subject
[Barabas hazards a guess. But a guess is all it is. He has no idea at all how any of this space travel stuff works beyond what he's gleaned from sci-novels and the various movies that survived the Shift.]
Right. I'll follow your lead. I think you'll have the better idea of what's out of place or out of sorts than I would.
[That said.] But I'll keep an ear and a nose out.
no subject
The door slides aside. He pauses in the doorway. Yellow emergency lights run along the walls. He spots tables and comfortable lounging booths. Flat screens dominate the far wall. Shiro walks inside and makes room for Barabas.]
Has to be a leisure area.
no subject
[Leisure area. Sure, yeah. He can see that. Barabas is getting his first peek at life in space, and it's too eerie to be something he can really appreciate.]
Doesn't look like anyone is enjoying the down time right now.
[A frown. He doesn't smell what one would expect if there'd been violence -- no blood, no smoke.]
no subject
No bodies or blood. I don't see any signs of a struggle at all. Did they abandon the ship?
[But if they had, why?]
no subject
[None of the assorted chaos and disarray that accompanies things like that, even in the most orderly of companies. The werehyena exhales a low growl of sound, unsettling as much as it is unsettled.]
I don't like any of this.