ataraxites: (Default)
axmods. ([personal profile] ataraxites) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2016-03-09 04:00 pm


CHARACTERS: Any and all.
LOCATION: Basecamp, Medical and beyond.
WARNINGS: Implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: The Tranquility jumps again.
NOTES: Can be found at the bottom of the post.

T H E   C A M P   ( C U R R E N T   C H A R A C T E R S )
It's an evening full of heavy rain when the alarms start, promising to continue on and on as passengers and crew alike attempt to sleep. The camp barely stirs, leaving movement to security patrols on watch at the borders of their walls and watch posts.

The rain doesn't let up by the time the sun is rising, and the alarms continue to wail. Many rise earlier than usual, sleepless and aggravated.

It's ten hours later when it happens. A tremble in the earth, shaking up through the trees. There's no cries from the wildlife, an eerie, unnatural silence in response to the disturbance. The wreck of the Tranquility begins to cord with lines of white light, threading across the hull like veins, some patches remaining dark, standing out against the vision like splotches burnt to the back of the eyelids. There's no great sound. In an instant, the ship is gone, a soft whomp, a feeling of air rushing past, the trees bending towards the site as if blown by a fierce wind. It's only a second. With a crack, the wreck returns, a rumble rolling through the air like thunder.

The earth shakes. The trees tremble. The ship groans, the sound echoing out like the cry of a wounded beast.

The jump has passed.

Before search and rescue can gather and see for themselves if anyone new was dragged from their homes, something strange happens. Some have seen it before, and more recent arrivals have not. A sporadic raining down of items has begun.

And you may wish to watch out. Someone cries out, narrowly avoiding what appears to be a sword of some kind pinwheeling out of the sky and sticking at a rough angle into the ground. Other such weapons include arrows and bows, the majority of which might need repair upon impact. Utility knives, daggers, heavy wooden and iron shields, crashing down mercilessly and provoking shrieks as people run out of harm's way. Most of these items are very standard-issue and basic in make, but every now and then, a finer version might be found, with decorative flourishes that seem to favour dragons and snakes.

The biggest impact of all thankfully does not happen in camp itself. Hard east of the camp, in the midst of the crash path and well in view, a trebuchet appears in the sky around sixty feet in the air and comes crashing to the ground in a mess of splintering timber.

The unusual rain of items, not only limited to the immediate camp area but the jungle beyond, ceases hardly a minute after it has begun.

M E D I C A L   ( N E W   A R R I V A L S )
You wake up, alone in the dark. There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Through the fog you can see shadows of movement, the muted sound of alarms crying. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're suddenly dropped several feet onto the opposite wall.

The impact is painful, winds you, and it takes several seconds to overcome and persuade uncooperative limbs to move. All around you is chaos: the sirens of alarms are shrieking in your ears, close and claustrophobic in the wreckage of the medical bay you've awoken in, lit dim and red. Around you, others are waking up, falling from other gravcouches, stumbling to their feet. Light catches your eye, and you look up to see a huge rend in the outer wall high above you, overhung by broken structural beams and damaged cabling.

Climbing up takes all the strength you have.

You emerge in a landscape of late morning gloom and heavy rain, surrounded by an immense, vast jungle. As your vision clears, you realise you stand on the hull of a colossal spaceship, crashed on an unknown world. In the distance, far out on a great swathe of torn up earth through the jungle are a clustered crowd of figures, moving towards the wreck, a campsite with an unfriendly wall ringing it.

It must house your welcome party, but are they friend or foe?
  • Anything remaining within a mile radius of the ship when it jumps will be irreparably damaged. Soft organics will be pulverised, while all trees and plants will initially appear fine but crumble to pieces within a day (or sooner if disturbed). Non-organic material will also be weakened, bending or falling apart when touched.
  • Newly arriving characters venturing through the medbay will discover their inventory items scattered beyond the ship. Feel free to find all of your inventory items, or lose as many as you like, as they will be randomly distributed around the jump radius. They will also be able to find jumpsuits and other standard clothing in the wreckage of medical.
  • The alarms will cut after two hours, a which point a looping audio message telling passengers to make their way to the blue lifts will be audible. The lifts, if investigated, will be missing, leaving only empty elevator shafts.
  • The wreck will show increased signs of instability for a few days after the jump, and will have seemed to have sunk further into the rock of the cliff than it was before.
  • As mentioned, items as described above will also rain down on camp and all areas beyond it. Feel free to find these in sporadic quantity.
  • If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to contact us via PM, the FAQ or Questions pages!
  • thecoldshoulder: to wash who I am away. (I am waiting for the rain)

    Algidus | Base Camp | OTA

    [personal profile] thecoldshoulder 2016-03-09 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
    For the new arrivals, today has likely been a day full of strange and alien sights--and even though they have climbed of out that teetering wreck and made their way to what passes for civilization on this planet, they have not yet seen the end of it. A towering figure looms large in the darkness, rain trickling down a muscular icy body, reflections from a technological weave highlighting curves and facets. The skin across the alien's back liquefies, rippling across a patch of underbody that has been exposed for weeks now--reconstituting itself itself from the heavy rainfall.

    The healing process finally complete, Algidus straightens up, lifting his head. Two green lights appear in the dark as his glowing eyes open, and freezing mist billows out of the gills on both side of his neck as he lets out a loud, heavy sigh. He is whole again.

    Now, sensing someone beside him, he turns and leers down at them. Whether newcomer or long-time resident of the base camp, the alien seems to be in a decent mood because of weather and the recovery it has enabled; he's more willing to engage at the moment, rather than simply slinking away to hide the various weapons and other objects he'd procured today.

    "Enjoying the weather?" This is said with a somewhat sardonic tone of voice; he knows this heavy rain does not agree with most, particularly not with humans, who can fall ill from being exposed to wet and cold for too long. "It is certainly not the worst thing this planet could do to us."
    rhyfelgri: ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴘʀɪɴɢ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ (Tʜɪs ɢɪʀʟ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ sɴᴏᴡғᴀʟʟ)

    enfys | A FUCKING TREBUCHET | open

    [personal profile] rhyfelgri 2016-03-09 08:38 am (UTC)(link)
    It's a fairly reasonable reaction to the earth-shaking impact and clatter-crash of splintered wood to run towards it, probably, instead of away; Enfys wants to see what happened. And when she does--

    She isn't seriously considering peeing in a circle around it.

    Not seriously.

    --but by the time anyone else has come to investigate, she's busily risking life and limb in the pursuit of figuring out the worst of the damage, what can be repaired, what she might have to try and figure out a replacement for. "Baby," she says, hands on the wood, "you are gonna look so good, it's gonna be okay--"
    foundafamily: (pic#7644682)

    [personal profile] foundafamily 2016-03-13 01:56 pm (UTC)(link)
    Firo shows up to the trebuchet only much later, after scavenging what he can from the smaller weapons littering the place. The sheer size of the thing is enough to make him do a doubletake--the strange cooing coming from the woman around it only more so.

    "...Are you talkin' to that... thing?"

    Maybe it's the heat.

    oldmanhusker: (Default)

    Re: enfys | A FUCKING TREBUCHET | open

    [personal profile] oldmanhusker 2016-03-13 06:35 pm (UTC)(link)
    Bill can't judge. He regularly spoke to his battlestar, after all. Though that was a bit more than he'd ever done.

    He's come out to investigate the impact, spear in hand and sidearm holstered in case of true emergency. "We should probably be concerned that we're going to need this."

    It's a strange thing to just have fall from the sky, after all.
    letmetakeaselfie: the kind that make a man (✲ 295)

    [personal profile] letmetakeaselfie 2016-03-13 11:54 pm (UTC)(link)
    "Well, that's... fun." All Tony can do is stare up at it for a long moment, but then he's laughing. "Yeah," he agrees with Enfys. "She's gonna be just fine." #TeamTrebuchet anyone?
    culver: ringo @ dw (shelter)

    nill | open | base camp

    [personal profile] culver 2016-03-10 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
    The strange orbs of liquid had been strange. The odd cloth with the unintelligible markings had been stranger. So all things considered, the Tranquility's former passengers should have been used to weird things raining from the sky.

    But weapons? Besides that, weapons that seemed more like they belonged in Bran's time than this one? That was certainly the strangest thing to rain from the heavens yet.

    As always, Nill has made her way back towards the ship after the jump has passed. Her wings are stuffed beneath the zip-up hoodie she received so long ago, damp and ruffled and overall uncomfortable. But it's better than soaking wet, like her hair. As she picks through the debris, the blonde comes upon a bow, cracked but not yet broken. She picks it up, and realizes that it feels good in her hand, heavy but manageable. Thus begins the search for arrows, a plan forming in her mind as she thinks on Heine's guns, one of which is nestled in the waistband of her jeans. Bullets may be scarce, but she could always make new arrows.
    letmetakeaselfie: find it in commercial appeal (✲ 025)

    [personal profile] letmetakeaselfie 2016-03-10 07:41 pm (UTC)(link)
    Tony is more interested than usual in the items scattered among the wreckage, gathering up as many swords as he can carry in his makeshift bag. He spots the blonde through his sunglasses, splattered with so much rain he can barely see past his face. He supposes it's practical enough though he's never had much of a reason himself to take up archery. Most of the bows are made of wood and for that reason they don't interest him at all. A metal shield though? Heck yes. He holds it above his head to keep the rain from soaking through all his clothes (probably a lost cause by now) and continues to pick through everything, glad he had the foresight to leave his gun and the dog at home. Wet dog smell, eugh.

    "Is it just me or does this seem ominous?" he directs at no one in particular, though he's pretty sure she's the only one within earshot over the din of the rain.
    culver: goodjobself @ dw (somethin' bad)

    [personal profile] culver 2016-03-11 07:41 pm (UTC)(link)
    Unlike Tony, Nill had brought her dog along with her. The mutt wanders around the area, sniffing here and there, but always in a wide, rough circle around his master. His ears perk up when he hears a voice, he gives a low boof, but returns to his investigations a moment later. Nill, however, starts slightly at the interruptions to her thoughts. The man is carrying what appears to be a bunch of swords, and using a... shield as an umbrella.

    It makes her smile, just a little.

    After one more look around, she nods with a shrug. Ominous is a good way to put it. But also helpful. Nobody could deny that.
    letmetakeaselfie: how long before i tell you the truth (✲ 057)

    [personal profile] letmetakeaselfie 2016-03-13 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
    Tony's glad the dog doesn't seem interested in him because despite now owning one he still isn't really sure how to interact. Quiet, this girl. Not that he minds, moving to collect a dagger from somewhere near her. "You any good with that thing?" The bow.
    culver: iconsingeneral @ tumblr (tongue tied)

    [personal profile] culver 2016-03-14 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
    As he reaches for the dagger, Nill has just picked up an arrow that doesn't look to be in terrible shape. She squints at the shaft, making sure it's free of cracks, and then stows it in her makeshift messenger bag. One good thing about having Heine's extra clothes was that she had been able to cut up and sew a few heavier pieces into useful things like bags. The question gives her pause, but then she shrugs and eventually shakes her head. She's never fired a bow in her life. But no time like the present to learn.

    As if to counter, she gestures to the knife in his hand. Is he any good with that?
    Edited 2016-03-14 01:18 (UTC)