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! |
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acatalepsy_logs2019-02-12 12:27 pm
ii b (....or not ii b that is the question)
The rose goblin who had been sitting on his shoulder goes tumbling too, a mass of thorns before it rights itself. Quentin moves to sit up, startled and confused.]
Ow... root and branch what the hell... [Too confused to decide whether he's cursing in Faerie or human terms. The rose goblin -- Spike, who looks like the offspring of a cat and a rosebush -- scurries back and rattles its thorns threateningly at Prompto.
Quentin realizes he's being defended.] It's okay, Spike. ...I think.
[He looks to the guy who knocked him over. That was an accident, right?]
i'm glad i'm not the only one who thought that...
In the dizzy haze that follows the collision, this is all that seems to make it into Prompto's brain as he lies in a heap in the floor. Geez, that was painful...and probably painful for the other guy, too. What about roots and branches? And what's that thing that went flying? Some kind of...animal?
That must've shaken a few more marbles loose than he realized, because when his vision starts to come together again, he's seeing one of the weirdest creatures he's ever seen. And he's seen a lot of weird creatures.
Quickly, he waves his hands. ]
I-I-I'm sorry! Total accident, didn't look where I was... [ He squints at Spike. ] Okay, I can't decide if that thing is cute, or terrifying.
[ It might be both. ]
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[Quentin clarifies, even as Spike looks skeptically between Prompto and Quentin and then back like it's asking if Quentin is sure this guy isn't a threat.
Quentin shakes his head.] And it's fine. I was kind of wandering around anyway.
[He moves to climb to his feet then. He reaches a hand down to offer Prompto help up. Even in the dim light, Quentin is obviously not quite human -- between his pointed ears and the sharp lines of the rest of his features. And the rose goblin currently sticking closer to his feet.
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Though he can't help but feel like he should be the one offering Quentin help up, Prompto takes his hand when it's offered, pushing himself up onto his feet and rolling his shoulders as he gets a better look at the hapless victim of his speeding antics. Prompto doesn't recognize him, so...maybe he's new in town? ]
I'll take your word for it. Heh...guess I got a little carried away followin' that sound. [ To say the least. ] Thought I might be able to figure out where it's comin' from, if I moved fast enough.
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You too?
[Quentin frowns, looking around.] Any luck? I can't figure out where it's coming from at all. It sounds like it's coming from everywhere at once.
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Nah, not yet. It kinda seems like it's coming from the...down-ish left? But then I'll turn a corner and it seems like it's coming from the right. Think I've gotten close a few times though...before it stops.
[ Much as he hates that noise, it never seems to last long when he needs it to. ]
You ever heard anything like it before?
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[Not a fan at all. The eerie factor is through the roof.
He shakes his head.]
Nothing, no. I mean, I've never been on a space ship before though.
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[ A horror movie, honestly. He's seen that one about the crew trapped on a spaceship while an alien kills them off one by one. What was it called, again?
...He forgets the name, but it gives him an idea. ]
Hey. What if it's some kind of...monster? — Shit, I hope it's not a monster.
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[Or Raj or Tybal drags him into the shadow roads and he wonders what the hell is wrong with cats that this is their normal way of travel.]
It is like a movie. And not a happy ending Disney movie either.
[At. All.
And then Prompto says that and Quentin pales.] ...it's probably definitely a monster.
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Lifting a hand to run through his hair, Prompto glances away to hide some of his panic. ]
Y-yeah, bet it is. That or, like, I dunno, something's really wrong with this ship, and it's about to fall apart. Nooooot sure I like that option much better.
[ At least a monster they could maybe kill. But if something's wrong with the ship, how can they fix it? Who were they even here to save, anyway? ]
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[As options go. Monsters are fight-able at least. He's agreed on that point. He shakes his head a little and looks around.]
But I guess all we can do is try to figure it out.
[And on top of that.] If the crew is still around, they'll probably need help.
[He does want to help, even if he does not want to be in an Event Horizon sequel.]
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[ That's the part that doesn't make sense to him the most. With all the other worlds they went to, it was pretty obvious who they needed to help, even if it wasn't always obvious what they needed to do. But here, there's no one. So who were they here to save, if not the crew? ]
Reckon they're trapped somewhere we can't get to yet?
[ ...Beyond that sound, most likely? ]
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[It's Faerie bullshit is what it is, and Quentin is so familiar with Faerie bullshit. If it weren't SPACE it'd feel like home. And "helping people" sounds good and he wants to help, but he's new enough that he's not sure whether or not Astoria might have other reasons for sending them here.]
Yeah, maybe. There's definitely more to the ship, right? But all the doors are stuck shut. ...and they're not the sort of locks Toby taught me how to pick.
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[ Or muscle, but Prompto is a bit lacking in both. Still, even he could probably force his way through a regular door. These, however? Not even close.
Then, momentarily distracted by Quentin's words: ]
Who's Toby? And why's he teachin' you to pick locks?
[ ARE YOU A CRIMINAL, MAN. ]
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[Quentin announces, proudly. He's at least given up needing to try to come up with cover stories about his life, since no one in the Circle has really even blinked at him being something other than human.]
And she said it might come in handy at some point. Considering how many times we've wound up locked up somewhere or having to get through a door someone doesn't want us to get through, she's probably right.