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
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[Quentin is definitely happy to talk about things that aren't how creepy and terrible this space ship is. They need to figure that out, but for the moment it's still mostly just unsettling.]
She's pretty great. I'm learning a lot from her.
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[So do fae, he supposes, but this detail is new and therefore still remarkable to him. And a lady knight at that?]
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[Quentin offers with a twist of a grin before adding.] It gets worse anyway. She's Sir October Daye, Knight of Lost Words, Hero of the Realm, sworn in fealty to Duke Sylvester Torquill of Shadowed Hills.
[And the titles of full on nobility are even longer and worse.] And I'm her squire.
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Yeah, I liked "Toby" better.
[At least a squire seems pretty straightforward; he sort of remembers those from old books Luck read.]
So that makes her your boss?
[Even though those flower things way back when had said he was a king or something? Whatever. Firo doesn't know how this stuff works.]
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But he nods, quite proudly honestly.] That's right. She's training me right now, until I'm ready to become a knight myself. And then, well, then I guess I'll be a knight errant until I come of age.
[At which point in time his life gets complicated. But Fae come of age in their thirties, so while he's basically an adult by human standards, he's in a gray area for Faerie.]
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So then what?
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[Step into his role as crown prince, he supposes, since he doubts his parents will abdicate immediately. He hopes they don't. They probably won't until Penthea is ready to come home as well.]
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Knights aren't allowed to go home?
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[Which right now is fine by him. He misses his parents, but San Francisco is home right now. It's where his friends are, his new found family.]
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Sounds pretty complicated. Where I'm from, you've got your Family and you're with 'em until you're in a box.
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[He's come to realize this way too clearly in the past couple years.]
Your Family? [To Quentin that sounds like something more than just kin, right? Maybe? In fact,] That sounds a little mafia.
[Especially the until you're in a box part.]
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We're Camorra. It's a different organization.
[To an outsider's perspective, though, they are very similar--hence why Firo is so insistent on the terminology.]
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[Quentin repeats, like he's trying out the word.] I've never heard of that, but that's probably not super surprising. But... same idea anyway? So you're like a gangster?
[Firo is much cuter than the idea of gangster in Quentin's mind, but hey. He's seen small cute people who are terrifying so.]
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Exactly. I run my Family's casino back home.
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Huh! That's... actually pretty cool.
[Illegal, right? And his little law and order and hierarchy self has that thought, but for now he shrugs it off.]
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If Firo could sense any thought akin to "adorable", his reaction would be very different. But he can't, and so he simply basks--and beams, and maybe blushes just a little--in the thought that, hell yeah, somebody thinks he's cool! It's not something you get often as a mobster who very much doesn't look like a tough guy.]
Yeah, well--my Family taught me a lot. I started out working there years ago.
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And looking tough means nothing in the world of Faerie. The strongest, scariest being that Quentin knows spends most of her time looking like a teenage girl with pigtails.]
I've really only seen movies about that sort of thing before. Isn't it dangerous though?
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He nods, his face turning serious.]
Yeah, but you don't join without knowing how to handle yourself. [He shrugs.] It's what I signed up for. Besides, it's worth it.
[He'd never had a place to belong before, and he finally found it in his Family. He likes them, and that's all there is to it.]
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[Really it's not all that different from him. He'd requested to be squired to Toby -- knowing full well that adventuring with her even before he was her squire had gotten him shot, attacked, nearly trapped in a nightmare realm. Good times.]
Some things are worth choosing the danger.
[He frowns.] That's the difference, right? When Astoria snatched all of us, she didn't give us a choice.
[That's what bugs him. Because if he'd been given a choice... he might even have accepted if he thought he could actually help.]
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[He cuts his emphatic nod short when Quentin mentions Astoria, the enthusiasm deflating out of him. His next words are almost a growl.]
She sure as hell didn't. Like we don't all have our own shit to take care of, huh?
[He was already on a mission for some person he didn't like. Where's the justice in the universe? He folds his arms and shakes his head.]
I never would've signed up for this crap, I can tell you that much. Who put her in charge of messing with everybody's business anyway?
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[And evidence seems to point to the fact that she's right, since here they all are, whether they want to be or not.
Quentin sighs and shakes his head.]
It's not like we can do anything to stop her.
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...No. And the people she wants us to help are the ones who wind up getting screwed when we fail, not her.
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[Quentin's first trip is not a fun trip.]
But I wouldn't want to fail if someone was counting on us that way.
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Yeah. That's how things wound up last time, in Akvos.
[They don't really have a right to meddle in these worlds (or, for Firo's part, much of a desire to), but once they're there... Firo has a harder time letting any of it go. Even if it's not his business or his battle, he can't just be a bystander to a life or death fight.]