ARRIVAL ▒ 002

[ataraxites]

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 ) Clouds have rolled in, obscuring the high noon in grey shadow when the alarms start. Wailing through the air, not as keenly as it had when base camp still huddled in its shadow, but still loud enough to turn heads and give people pause. It sends a shiver of nervous energy throughout camp. They were out of range the last time, and there is no sudden scrambling attempt at retreat, but the crowd does begin to thin. Some pick up and go, just to put distance between themselves and the inevitable, because you never know. Others stay behind, for whatever that reason might be. Those who were closer towards the ship emerge from the treeline in a hurry. It's ten hours later when it happens. A tremble in the earth, shaking up through the trees, sending the jungle's wildlife into distressed flocks of movement and alarmed cries. Under the shrouded sun 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. A gas mask, old fashioned and heavy, round-eyed, with a filter like a muzzle at the mouth, lands in the packed earth at someone's feet. With a clatter of plastic and metal, something that was once a radio receiver apparently plummets from the air, shattering on impact when it strikes the metal framework of a communal tent, and another lands in softer earth, intact. Tin cans of food, earthenware bottles of water, candles wrapped in paper and tied in string, a box of matches, a set of well-used playing cards with roughed up corners, a rough woollen blanket, a pillow, a gas lamp all hit the ground throughout camp, or are discovered in the jungle beyond. This unusual rain of items 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 claustrophic 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 bleak, grey sunlight, surrounded by an immense, vast jungle. As your vision clears, you realize you stand on the hull of a colossal spaceship, crashed on an unknown world, two moons hanging heavy in the sky above. 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. Your welcome party, but are they friend or foe? N O T E S Anything remaining within a mile radius of the ship when it jumps will be irreperably 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 somewhere in the heavily damaged locker banks. They will also be able to find jumpsuits and other standard clothing in the wreckage. 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!

Comments

jump

[ontheline]

[Hey, hey, Hughes is out and about under a tarp converted into a roof, and he pokes his head out just in time for her startled question. Welcome the jungle, ma'am, it's all weird plants and concerning amounts of bad weather from here. But he has a soup that tastes pretty good, which is just what is needed for people with horrifically bad post-jump stomachs.

Anyway. Check out that random head poking out, like whack-a-mole.]

A currently unnamed planet!

Would you like a blanket and some soup?

[mead]

[ She's pretty naked, awkwardly trying to cover herself with her hands and arms. She stares at him, mouth open, mostly because she's still trying to process what happened to her in the first place. But at his question, she nods. ]

That would be amazing, thank you.

[ontheline]

[Haaaa! He is like ye ol' famous Christ the Redeemer statue, only less cool and totally not redeeming many people himself, but he's got a towel in one hand and a bowel that has whisps of steam emitting from it in the other.]

Got it! I'll just look up for a while until you can reach the towel.

[I AM A GENTLEMAN]

Just don't rob me blind in my vulnerable state, and we're golden~

[bahaha]

[mead]

[ It's so absurd she has to laugh. ] I'll try to keep my hands to myself.

[ She manages to grab the towel and wraps it around herself, holding it shut with one hand. ] Okay, it's safe. Thank you.

[ontheline]

[Ahaaaa, good, good. He turns around, flashing a friendly dad smile.

Despite being not that old. But you're a teenager, so clearly he's old.]

There we go! Better to face crazy odds with a towel than without.

If you have any questions, I'd be more than happy to answer them; I'm Hughes - member of the comms department. Or what's left of it. It's been a bit MIA since the ship faceplanted here.

[mead]

Where am I?

[ He's probably been asked that a lot today, and Diana hopes he's not annoyed by it. But it's the number one question on her mind, followed by 'Comms department?' and 'What ship?' ]

[ontheline]

Well...

[Eh, he's in a Mood. Blunt honestly seems great.]

You're on an alien planet that we had crashed on, in another universe.

I'd give you a welcome brochure, but we're low on paper. And ink.

...

Just about everything, really.