SAND IN THE GLASS ※ EVENT ※ TDM※ 2

[wildestmods]

SAND IN THE GLASS

The group's journey across the sands is fortunately one that's guided. The small desert they're in has mountains off to either side to guide them. They just have to traverse the desert valley until they reach the end.

The sun is bad but not completely unbearable. The heat is intense, but not enough to make them collapse instantly. A dry wind occasionally blows and while it's hot, it at least causes any sweat to instantly evaporate off.

But dry heat is still heat. And they still have to traverse the valleys between dunes and occasionally struggle over them if there are no dips to pick their way through. The mountains to the sides are tall and seem to have very few valleys, and their enemies are far off behind them.

The only way through is forward.

The intel from the letter they found is correct. It's only a day's journey to the ruins that were spoken of. It's evening when they arrive. A large, deep, deep well is one of the first things they find, just before the city. It still has water, clean and clear.

Beyond it...

AGRABAH

The ruins of a once-flourishing kingdom lay before them. The domes of the palace are cracked and one seems to have fallen, crushing part of the city - but there is no trail of damage. It didn't roll, it was somehow thrown by something massive.

The city has furrows of destruction and debris blocking certain streets and paths. It looks as if something tried to block certain paths and carved out other straight paths that led right to the palace. Claw marks and blade marks are visible in the debris clusters, like something tried to claw through it. Half-buried in those areas are the crushed and rotting remains of armored monsters - orcs.

The open paths have the discarded objects one might expect of evacuating people - dropped belongings, discarded bags of grain, lost sandals, children's toys. It looks almost like something blocked the monsters and created straight paths for people.

Or perhaps it's not a something but rather a someone. Right near the area they walk in, there's a massive handprint in the debris and dirt, large enough to stand in. And near the beginning of the paths to the palace there are massive finger holes dug into the dirt, like that same hand clawed those paths clear.

Whatever happened here, the city is now silent. The enemies that were here are gone and so are the kingdom's people. And it looks, from some of the belongings left behind - like children's toys that clearly look like trolls - that the trolls of Trollmarket followed in the footsteps of the kingdom's residents, through their evacuation routes.

It's safe for a moment, long enough for the group to hydrate, rest, and recover. There are even some supplies to be scavenged from the wreckage. Crude weapons they can steal from the dead orc bodies, small bags of grain, even bags of spices.

The light of the moon and stars is enough to move around with, due to the lightness of the sand and buildings. It seems to light the ruins up with its own glow. Due to the cracks in the walls and roofs of the remaining buildings, there's even some light that reaches inside them.

They'll need it because of the darkness that's due to descend.

NEW PLAYERS/CHARACTERS
Test drive memes in Wilderlands are full game events that are open to new players and characters. This means that current players can also top-level in them. Current characters will be able to sense that a new person is bound by the quest magic (so they'll know they're not an enemy) and know instinctually that they're new to the group.

Since the group already knows that new people can and do show up, they can reach out to the new character during the event to help them. There are also downtime prompts so people can intro during a quieter moment.

USEFUL LINKS


Premise/Short Facts | Arrival/Welcome | Setting Background/FAQ | Major NPCs


SHADOWHUNTERS

The Shadowhunters attack first, some of them firing arrows at the group to separate and herd them. The only words the squad hears at the beginning is a deep voice saying, "You know what to do."

The Shadowhunters are disciplined warriors. Each has an enchanted weapon of some kind, empowered to have minor advantages in ways similar to the group's blessed weapons, or magical runes for these advantages are already tattooed onto their bodies. Some can run faster than normal humans, up to 40 MPH, some have increased accuracy with their arrows and seem to never miss. Some heal much faster than normal, glowing healing runes activating anytime they're hurt. They fight with any weapons other than guns - whips, bows and arrows, swords, large knives, etc.

Their teamwork, however, seems to have its limits. While the Shadowhunters are all skilled, many of them were solo hunters, or only worked in small groups. They outnumber the squad but their teamwork isn't as impeccable as their skill with their weapons.

Nets

While they're extremely willing to injure the squad they seem to be trying to capture most of them instead of killing them, occasionally tossing out nets of glowing silver. Being caught in the nets renders someone paralyzed and weak, a deep cold settling into their bones. Some may even hear the shrieks of dying loved ones, whether they've actually died in reality or not. When someone particularly large is captured, the Shadowhunters work together to drag them in the net.

The nets are difficult to destroy, but can be with great force of some kind. It has to be aimed at the part closest to the Shadowhunters' hands, because the force required to break the nets would also injure those trapped inside them. The cold and paralysis fades when the victims are free, but some of the rescued may feel weak and need help staying on their feet. Unfortunately, even when they're broken, the nets of moonlight seem to be something they can recreate within several minutes, drawing them from runes on their arms.

Flying Monkeys

Exactly what it says on the tin. Chimp-sized flying screeching monkeys in dapper little hats and vests help the Shadowhunters by grabbing and carrying people towards them or their nets, herding them, or attacking and grappling with people to make them more vulnerable.

Orders

The Shadowhunters are dogged, and seem to have very clear orders: they're trying to capture people the way the Sisters did. They seem to have different sensibilities on how they do it with different types of people. They can automatically sense what kind of person someone is.

• Mundane humans or PCs with blessed weapons get the kid gloves, with the Shadowhunters telling them, "I know you don't understand, but we need you. There's a war, innocent people are dying. We need normal humans to join our cause." They'll still go in for the capture, but only with as much force is necessary.
• Nonhumans like aliens or metahumans with superpowers (who aren't mages, fae, vampires, or werewolves) get a slightly more brutal beatdown. Though sometimes the less disciplined Shadowhunters (since some are young or new) might coo over the cuter squad members (cute furry ones, short ones, etc) in a dehumanizing way, like they should be pets.
• Classic supernatural creatures like vampires and werewolves, fae, and most mages (with the exception of Necromancers) get sneers and particularly brutal attacks before attempted capture. They're not averse to putting them in traction before carting them away.
• Those that have unholy inclinations, like wielders of Cursed Weapons, Necromancers, and demons, they try to kill these people on sight, often using their seraph blades, holy weapons that can burn with a holy fire. Just a nick from these weapons causes a serious searing wound, and a full on stab anywhere on the body is instantly fatal. Any survivable wounds will automatically get a holy infection resistant to any external forms of healing other than the body's, though this is survivable if they're small.
• Actual Biblical angels will have the Shadowhunters straight up bow down before them and refuse to lay a hand on them - because they have oaths beyond that of the Unfinished Princess.

NAZGUL

Shortly after the Shadowhunters attack, a cold dread fills the city. A darkness sweeps through its streets, even though there's no change in the moonlight. The sky seems colder and the stars seem much farther away. A knee-deep fog seems to roll in from nowhere and cover the ground.

A piercing chill fills the air and a quaking dread rolls through the streets and alleys in waves. Regardless of who an individual is or what they've faced in life, regardless of powers or telepathic blocks, the dread and terror is a magical force of nature. Even those who never feel such fear will feel it now.

The Shadowhunters feel it too. There is a thin, anxious cry of "Nazgul!"

Dark cloaked and hooded shapes now move through the city streets, and something terrible happens: they multiply. Nine shapes enter, and as they stalk through the streets, they split into even more shapes. 9 becomes 18, 18 becomes 27. Each of the Nazgul is able to prism into 3 Nazgul total, linked as one mind, able to spread through the city and attack separate enemies.

They start slaying Shadowhunters immediately, creating chaos as the Shadowhunters attack back while still trying to complete their mission of kidnapping. There is mass chaos. Flaming arrows and flaming swords start lighting canopies and stands of cloth rugs on fire - at least enough to show the Nazgul are not particularly fond of it.

"Use a scatter rune, throw them off balance!"

A rune is activated, but the person that activated it is stabbed from behind right when they do, causing the spell to misfire, and instead of throwing just the Nazgul off balance, everyone is scattered through the streets. The Nazgul are not a terrifying united front now, but the squad and Shadowhunters are scattered as well. And though the spell will eventually burn out, it keeps firing off for a time, causing people to be teleported around. The only way to stop the effect is keep trying to move out of its range, deeper into the city, towards the palace.

Not an easy feat while the looming shapes of Nazgul stalk the streets and carved out evacuation paths, moving like ink.

Nazgul Effects

• Terror. Regardless of how big and bad a member of the squad is, regardless of whether or not they can usually block psionic influence, every character will feel stomach-churning, "what the fuck is this??" fear in the presence of Nazgul, though it depends on them how they work through it. They're not just ghouls or ghosts, they have the power of basically a world's version of Satan (or at least Satan's apprentice) working through them. While they don't cause flashbacks like the Nightrenders, they give off an unblockable aura of cold, monstrous, terrifyingly pure evil
• Morgul-blades. Their normal swords just work like normal swords but the Nazgul also have long blades they stab people with that have a shard of the blade fall off into the wound. This shard slowly works its way to the heart of the victim and eventually turns them to a wraith like them, forever subsumed to the control of the Dark Lord. While healing powers will be able to help somewhat with these wounds and slow the progress of the shard, they won't cure it or push the shard out of the body. Even those with surgical skills will find it impossible to pull a shard out - it'll always slip away from things like forceps. They'll have to reach Rivendell in time and get healing from the Elves to remove the shards.
• Black breath. If they can get in close - and especially if they can touch someone, the Nazgul can inflict a serious and eventually fatal condition, an infection from their aura. If they don't knock the person out instantly, they'll gradually lose consciousness and have a coma state filled with terrible nightmares. Then they'll eventually die. Players can decide how long it takes for their character to be affected, whether they go unconscious instantly and have to be carried, or last long enough to reach the woods beyond the palace. These characters won't have to wait for Rivendell to heal, a certain plant in the woods past the palace can be used to draw them out of their comas and cure it.

PROMPTS

a) HOTTER THAN HOT
The desert is not infinite but it is unforgiving. A day's journey is still a day's journey and because the Nightrenders will become active when the sun sets, you can't wait to travel by night. You have to hope that the information the group got about the length of the crossing will make up for the fact you have to trudge across it under the ruthless light of the sun - and hope that your water supplies will hold out.

It's a journey that will be difficult to make if you don't support each other, share water and food, help the weaker members keep moving - or even carry those who wind up collapsing of exhaustion and dehydration. It'll take a group effort to get everyone to the end.

If you're new, you'll have an even worse time, thrown in to the ravages of the desert with no warning. The caravan of oddball strangers you're drawn to may be your only salvation.

b) WHEN THE WIND'S FROM THE EAST
The desert gets especially bad when that big dust storm rolls through, whoops. You'll all have to hunker down, take what shelter you can in the rocks, and hold onto each other. And help dig out the smaller members after the storm to keep them from being buried alive.

And then there's the first aid after, like helping get sand of each other's eyes and tending to scratched corneas and sandblasted skin abrasions.

c) 'NEATH ARABIAN MOONS
Rejoice! You've arrived! And the well water right before the ruins is still pure, unspoiled, and abundant. There are also some supplies that can still be scavenged from the abandoned market. Fresh fruit and vegetables are right out because they've definitely been rotting at least a few days, but there are bags of rice and bulgur wheat grain, and some of the more nonperishable foods were left covered or in tightly sealed barrels, like dried dates, nuts, pickled turnips, and olives. You have some time to collapse and drink your weight in water, rest, replenish, and scavenge from the marketplace in the fading evening sun and the light of the rising moon. The empty marketplaces also leave room for cooking fires and some of the surrounding buildings have cooking oil and the right cookware to grind grain and make things like flatbreads.

d) A FOOL OFF HIS GUARD
Of course your period of rest is interrupted by another attack. Pretty typical by now, right? The Shadowhunters at least aren't as coordinated as they could be, but they are effective in their different squads. However, while they have subtle advantages in stretch, speed, agility, and accuracy from their angelic runes, they can't quite match the raw power of some of the squad.

Especially if you stand together.

So whether it's fighting Shadowhunters, swatting at their flying monkeys, freeing each other from nets, or protecting the group's more demonically-inclined from very fatal seraph blades, your best bet at everyone getting away is by trying not to do it alone.

e) COULD FALL AND FALL HARD
The dark shapes of the Nazgul are good at clinging to the shadows but the light of the stars and moon seem to be working extra hard at causing their movement to be seen, almost as if there is something holy to them that's watching over the group. The Nazgul don't speak, their gliding movement just push them inexorably after their prey. They don't seem to be trying to capture them. Just like the Nightrenders the group has dealt with in the past, they mostly go in for the kill.

The only exception is the times they draw one of their shorter Morgul-blades. Those wounds don't have to be fatal - any wound anywhere on the body will cause someone to succumb to becoming a wraith in time, forcing them to join them in the cold clutches of the Dark Lord, trapped into obedience to him forevermore.

One advantage you have is that the Nazgul aren't particularly acrobatic as keeping a solid form is its own challenge to them. You can take to higher ground to move safely, run through broken down walls, climb up to roofs, and/or jump across to other buildings. You may have to also make quick escapes, taking advantage of holes in floors that lead to stores of soft grain, scaffolding, ladders, ropes, or soft, bouncy canopies over shops that can act as trampolines.

Sometimes the only way to get away from the danger is by staying one jump ahead of the hitmen, one trick ahead of disaster, and one skip ahead of your doom.

f) WILDCARD
Maybe you decide to do none of the above. Or want to play out something like your character getting another to safety away from the battle. Go nuts!

OOC DETAILS
❧ Quest magic: Players can handwave that the quest bond magic is tugging the group together, and towards the palace and the lands beyond.

❧ Archivist Spells: There will be little eddies of leftover genie magic that allow Archivists to bank 4 iterations of a Sandstorm spell during downtime before the attack. This spell allows for a localized mini-tornado that can sandblast 1 enemy. Alongside disorienting and distracting them, the tornado's winds are strong enough to damage corneas and cause some abrasions.

❧ Teleportation: The flawed scatter spell one of the Shadowhunters activated with an angel rune can explain why two characters that might otherwise stay together through the whole thing might get separated. They'll blink around a few times before they can make their way out of range of the spell zone.

❧ Network: The network can be used by current players. Mirrors can and do float, and can follow someone as they move, allowing people to communicate while running or fighting. Feel free to use the network in parallel with the log events. Prospective players can handwave not using the mirrors because they haven't kicked on yet and it takes some time to figure out how they work, like magical Zoom calls.

❧ NPCing: The mods won't be npcing but players are free to npc the actions of the Shadowhunters, flying monkeys, and the Nazgul. The flying monkeys won't speak. The Shadowhunters can be npced as speaking, as long as it's kept to the listed rules for how they treat each type of person. They won't reveal any information other than they're kidnapping them to take them to the Unfinished Princess to fight in some kind of war, and are less likely to share this info the more inhuman a character is. he Nazgul, on the other hand, will never speak.

❧ Enemy damage: Players can have their characters successfully kill Shadowhunters if they would do so. They're a bit tougher than normal humans, but not by much. The Nazgul, however, can't be killed, though they can be routed off by holy attacks, fire, or powers players have gotten approved as being able to hurt unholy or ethereal beings. If you have a question about whether/how something will affect either enemy, feel free to ask the mods in the first comment below.

❧ Environment: Feel free to manipulate the environment. There are lots of buildings close together with scaffoldings, ladders, ropes, piles of barrels, just about everything you would want if you were either Jackie Chan fighting bad guys while holding a baby, or trying to PARKOUR! The orc corpses provide options for necromancy if Necromancers have powers to animate the date, and also crude weapons that can be scavenged for use.

❧ Experimentation: We'd like to encourage people to experiment! Obviously ask other players if they're down first, but it could be fun to do something other than 2 person threads, like maybe 2 PCs banding to rescuing a 3rd. Players are also encouraged to set limitations if they think it'd be more interesting, like locking their final escape prompt through the palace to the other side to a single thread partner and playing out the drama of a full escape.

Comments

MOD QUESTIONS/COMMENTS/REQUESTS ETC

[wildestmods]

Ask the mods anything, request things, let the mods know about problems, etc. here!

[zerg_rush]

What happens to a Shadowhunter's gear/magic weapon if they get killed?

Specifically, is it possible to chase Nazgul around with a looted holy sword?

Elle Bryant

[millenyal_pink]

Sand In The Glass

Elle fucking hates the desert. She can manage it, but she would like to formally note that she hates it.

It’s marginally better in Crinos because of the way her feet don’t fully touch the ground and the way her feline body naturally regulates its blood pressure. Being barefoot in humid walking through the desert? No thanks.

The sun’s out and Elle’s shift to scout doesn’t start until after it’s gone down, so for now she’s with the main group. Everyone looks as miserable as she feels.

I.
When she sees someone really start to struggle, she’ll start loudly complaining about needing a break, or just go over and pick up their stuff (or them). She goes with whatever strategy she feels would best suit the person in question.


Agrabah

When Elle enters the city, she notices something feels off. It’s not quite a smell, or something she can hear or see, but almost a combination of all three. She can’t quite put her finger on it, especially since she isn’t familiar with the area in the first place, but it puts her on edge. She’s going to be making sure nobody wanders off on their own, consciously and subconsciously corralling people together so that everyone is in the same space.

The feeling could just be her sensing the aftermath of whatever battle took place here, but she can’t be sure, at this point.

She encourages the others to take a break, but can’t seem to find a way to settle down and take one herself.


Shadowhunters

Elle hears movement moments before the voice speaks, giving her enough time to transform into Crinos before the arrows fire. She uses her innate agility to rush over to the more vulnerable people in the group— the civilians and non-combatants— and immediately shifts to Crinos. She uses her over nine-feet-tall body to block attacks as well as corral them away from their assailants.

“You need to—”

Then the flying monkeys appear.

“Get to cover!”

Whatever she was planning to say before is lost to the immediate ‘what the fuck’ of being attacked by flying monkeys.

“I’ve got your backs. Try to stick together.”

That’s the best advice she can give, at this point, as she faces their attackers to cover the others’ escape.

II.

Elle knows to dodge the nets, this time. What she doesn’t know is how much these assholes were going to gang up on the monsters, which she feels is prejudiced and unfair. She stops worrying some of the others when she sees that they seem to be treating the humans with relative respect and delicacy, but that just means there are more attackers ganging up on the rest of them.

She’s trying to avoid killing people, at this point she’s mostly giving them the run-around, shifting to Crinos so she can fight, then to Feline to draw them away and tire them out.

Unfortunately, she’s also tiring herself out.


Nazgul

Fuck, this fucking sucks.

At least the other assholes are running away.

III.

Elle immediately starts looking for people who may not be fast enough to get away on their own. If someone looks like they’re struggling, she will just pick them up with a quick “Sorry!” and start carrying them in the direction of the palace. There’s no time for dignity, right now.

If they manage to outrun the Nazgul to the point where she feels like they can make it on their own, she’ll put them down and let them go. Otherwise, she’s making herself a personal escort.

IIII.

Wildcard. Hit me up at June_Bug if you wanna plan something. I’m up for pretty much anything!

Agrabah

[wheyoftheadept]

Elle keeps pacing the perimeter. Saturday gets it. She's itching between her shoulderblades, and every time someone goes off to piss she has to fight the urge to tell them to take a buddy. Something happened here, and it makes every shadow feel full of watchful, hungry eyes.

Which is all the more reason Elle needs to sit, eat, and drink. Saturday gets up off the ground, dusts herself off, and makes up a quick snack. A handful of dates and nuts; some dried jerky; and a skin of cool water from the well.

She walks up to Elle and shoves them into her hand.

"Siddown. Eat. Drink. Whatever's comin' won't come faster for pacin'."

Caleb Widogast

[katzenprinz]

i.

[Caleb has no clue whatsoever where he is. It's an unsettling situation to be in on top of suddenly being separated from his party – his family, really. Even the style of architecture looks completely unfamiliar; he racks his brain, but none of it resembles anything he's seen in his travels or in any book he's ever read.

But there's no time to puzzle over that, because there are tattooed people in black after him for some reason. That isn't necessarily new, but he at least thought it was done with finally, and these are definitely not the tattooed magic ninjas he's used to anyway. And being alone means he has no martially-inclined friends to stand between him and the people with weapons. He's currently a very stressed wizard.

Not a helpless one, though, even cornered as he's found himself in an alley between ruined walls and a pair of these mysterious gothy assailants. Half a moment of risk assessment and strategizing, and then Caleb quickly digs a black marble out of his component pouch and brings it in a circle as he mutters the incantation for a Gravity Sinkhole. One spell, crush the bastards to death if he must, pin them in place if he can't so he at least has a chance to escape. His attackers evidently recognize a spell being cast because they tense up in anticipation.

And then nothing happens. It's very anticlimactic.

He's still blinking at the marble in his hand as one of his attackers rolls her eyes and scoffs, "Warlocks." Caleb only has enough time to breath a German-sounding curse before the net gets thrown in his face.]


ii.

[One way or another, he eventually gets freed. But he's also been getting warped around at random through the ruins of this city by whatever strange magic is at work here, so once again he finds himself trying to fend off some of these Shadowhunter fuckholes. At least he's not alone right now. Who are all these other people apparently also being pursued?? Who knows! That's a question for later.

For now, Caleb takes advantage of the distraction caused by one of said other people trying to deal with the hostile attacking them. His magic had failed before for some reason, but it's hardly the first time he's encountered an antimagic field. All he can do is try again.

Another dive into the component pouch and he comes out with a caterpillar cocoon and crushes it in one hand. Mercifully, he feels the spell form this time, and he holds his breath for a second while waiting to see if it takes hold on this enemy.

A beat, and the Shadowhunter abruptly shrinks and turns into a turtle. A regular fucking turtle.

Caleb lets out a shaky breath before shouting, his voice heavily accented.]

Don't. Hurt. The turtle.


WILDCARD

((Hit me with a custom starter! Poke me on plurk at tinybro if you wanna plan something specific!))

[finalizes]

A well-aimed rock gets thrown at one of Caleb's attackers from a short distance, smashing into the back of his skull and disorienting him for a moment, and a young man's voice growls in German: Run.

To which the attacker's companion automatically turns to the source of the voice and stone throwing. But just before he has completed the turn, a body slams into him, throwing him off his feet, and they both go down in a flurry of black robes and shadowy darkness.

Sister Sara Sawbones

[okayimin]

A. we are allowed one (1) nice thing
Walking through sand is always miserable, but no worse than snow. And Sawbones distracted from their plight and the danger as they crest a dune and begin to run into scrub land.

"By the stone!" can be heard, at volume and with glee, before the tiny nun scoots her way over to a viney little plant doggedly growing out of a rock. "Wormwood! A gorgeous specimen, never seen 'em take like this! I knew that blasted Katrina had the soil composition wrong-" The rest breaks off into furious mutterings as Sawbones pulls a battered field journal out of her habit pocket and begins to furiously scribble with a piece of graphite. Anyone who gets too close will be greeted with an "Oi! You! Got a knife? And I need something- parchment or a jar."

B. and then everything took an incredibly unpleasant turn
The thrill of botany aside, the desert is a miserable place. The ruins of the city they find aren't any better. It reminded Sawbones of the Thiags in the Deep Roads, cities that had been overrun by the Taint eons ago and left to crumble. The kind where darkspawn waited in shadows.

When the shadows deepen and begin to move, she has a moment of blind terror, but-

"Let go of me!" Sawbones has never seen a monkey before, much less one in a vest and hat, but she can say she doesn't like them in the least. As small as she is, it only takes one to snatch her, tossing her up into the air to another flying higher. Which is terrifying, but does not stop Sawbones from shouting.

"Stone break you, you sunblind nugshit spawnfucker! Put me down!"

B2. an unpleasant turn, with additional unresolved trauma

Sawbones is not a fighter. She is aware of this. She is small and fast and clever and is doing her blasted best to stay the pit away. And it works, until she's grabbed, hauled back sharp enough to hurt and trying to kick and bite just gets her slapped. She goes limp as the silver net closes around her, eyes widening as she curls into herself.

"There now, if you behave, you can come out," the Shadowhunter says, clearly trying for soothing and missing by a ways, "We don't want to hurt you, but we need you."

Sawbones starts screaming.

C. and then things became even more terrible

And then there was only terror and Sawbones isn't sure where she is entierly, but she's sure there's 'spawn, she's sure her crew- not the Legion, anyone she knew there is long dead- but there's people she's meant to be helping. There's no question of honor or winning, there's just the matter of survival.

So she will barrel her way into any of the crew that she sees that isn't terrifyingly large and swathed in black robes. "That way! That way! Just run!"

WILDCARD

C! (also PARKOUR)

[wheyoftheadept]

Saturday hears the scream - like someone's heart breaking - and nearly twists her ankle in a sharp turn towards it. She launches herself from the rooftop she's running in a rolling dive, hitting a decayed awning below and twirling once around the half-rotted pole to break her fall. She hits the ground somersaulting and comes out of the tumble with blade in hand, pointed at the man who'd got the little dwarf doc netted.

"Let her go."

They don't listen, of course. Dimwits.

Two hit her from either side. She feels them coming; before they're halfway there she's diving to one side, towards the chick with the whip. She's coming in high, expecting Saturday to flinch from the leather in her face; Saturday goes low, aiming to cut her off at the knees. Entirely literally. She's been tangling with these folks all night, and she's not showing mercy that she's not gonna get.

The woman changes course at the last second, choosing to fall and eat shit rather than lose her leg. Her partner's closing the gap, his axe already swinging. He's inside her guard -

And then she's not there anymore. She leaps back, arching over the axe as it swings in one long, perfect movement, trusting in her supernatural awareness of bodies in space. Time seems to slow, and she sees the man's face change from smirk to shock to rage as his blow, impossibly, misses.

Her feet hit the ground. She races for the man with the net, eyes bright with joy, screaming an ancient Redtown war cry.

"Come GET SOME, MOTHERFUCKER!"

The man, to his credit, doesn't flinch. Nor does he surrender his grip on the net. His free arm comes up to meet her blade, the gauntlet on it shifting into a shield. Saturday impacts it hard, jarring them both. She leaps back and then tries again, feinting with a headstrike. He falls for it.

Instead of his head, she takes off his hand. The one holding the net. And then axe and whip descend on her and she's fighting for her life.

"Go! Run! Now!"

Tim Drake

[the_hit_list]

d) A FOOL OFF HIS GUARD (A)

[ There’s a time and a place to diminish competence for secrecy.

Tim gives up any semblance of that when the actual flying monkeys show up and start carting people towards the nets. He climbs up the side of a two story building to chase a straight line after one of the pests before it can drop the camper into a net.

Over three roofs, jumping alleys and obstacles, until he finally sees the opportunity. Three story building across from him, with the second story set back l for a veranda. Time it right, jam the end of the bo against the ledge of the roof, and jump. Kick.

Roll out the momentum on the balcony and hope that the other soft thumps mean that the monkey landed poorly and the camper well. He comes to his feet, ready to swat the thing down like a piñata if he has to. ]

d) A FOOL OFF HIS GUARD (B)

[ Is there some sort of rule about leather jackets in combat uniforms yet? There should be, Tim thinks as he’s hemmed in by four of the Shadowhunters. The I’m-Working-Through-Some-Things Corollary?

(Good. Relax. Breathe, slow and deep but hold your shoulders there. Don’t let them see you’re getting your full breath back.)]

Hey, I think we know the same people. Brown hair, good form but rigid technique, 5’4”. Green mohawk, fights dirty - oh, hi! You got back up.

[ Green mohawk is several ruins away, having a nice nap with their head carefully turned to the side to avoid choking. Tim’s little wave to the distance is actually directed at another camper, but the Shadowhunters that turn to follow the wave don’t know that. ]

e) COULD FALL AND FALL HARD

[ So much of urban fighting is prep. You have to know where you’re going at all times. Where the fire escapes are, which roof is which, what street leads where.

In the absence of that, there is only luck. Minimized by training, but luck nonetheless. Tim’s luck held for two teleports.

The first time, he materialized alone. On a roof, and then indoors. He’d caught a Nazgul’s attention and fled, kiting the creature without leading it directly in the path of others. He’d been trying to find a group to run to for support - Tim is aware of what a Nazgul is and can theoretically do, and he is absolutely disinclined to test how fictional they are with his own life.

(After all, the Mad Hatter is fictional.)

He does not find backup before the spell shuffles their positions like cards. Instead of 15 yards ahead of the Nazgul, he’s facing one from barely three yards away. In a massive intersection of three streets. Multiple escape routes, but no space to turn and run, because the massive longsword is already in hand and moving up.

Tim drops into a low stance that’s really more to give him a better sprinting start. He waits until the Nazgul commits to a big, straight downward swing (as terrible swordsmanship as the movie) and takes off to the same side of the Nazgul’s less dominant hand, running pell mell for the first path up he can identify.

The only wasted movement is throwing open his mirror to follow. Tim doesn’t bother talking or looking at the mirror; he figures the screeching noise behind him is sufficient explanation.

He’s probably not going to make it. ]

Wildcard & A-C are absolutely welcome
[ Tim will provide what help he can in the march and will be willing to heal after the sandstorm. He’ll also shield anyone he’s big enough to.

If you have a starter you want me to hit, let me know.

E will end in Tim being hit with a morgul-blade. He will need assistance fleeing to safety. ]

Could Fall And Fall Hard | Pyro (TF2)

[scorchshot]

[ And that, is about when the flash of red fireproof suit appears in front of Tim.

Though not summoned by mirror, Pyro wastes no time; there's a muffled battle cry, and they lunge with axe raised, slamming it into the Ring Wraith's blade. They're quick to back off after the initial parry, swapping their fire axe to one hand; with a snap of their free one, fire dances around their fingers. They've already been using this new power, and using it liberally, but they're as reckless as ever- Far too used to a mercenary base well stocked with a respawn room.

Besides, they've got someone to protect.

They're quick to move themselves between the Nazgul and their charge, staring down the hissing thing as they shove their hand forward in front of them. Hopefully it'll ward off the Nazgul- At least, long enough for the pair of them to make their escape. ]

Pyro | Team Fortress 2

[scorchshot]

'NEATH ARABIAN MOONS

Emerging from the ruins is not just another good scavenging opportunity: a strange, masked and suited individual appears, head cocked to one side as they watch the other newcomers. It looks as if they once had more armament than the fire axe slung across their back; an empty holster looks like it might've held a small firearm at some point, now discarded, and they seem unused to running around with such a light pack. The fire axe, however, still has old, dried blood alongside its sharp edge.

But they don't seem inclined to use it. Instead, the figure brightens at the sight of others and waves at whoever's closest, making a muffled sound that certainly sounds happy enough to be a 'hello'. They don't seem to care if the person they're greeting is human or not.

COULD FALL AND FALL HARD

The first flicker of fire, the first spark of flame across Pyro's vision, and an explosion of rainbows rushes into their world. Of course it had been bleeding in before at the edges, laughter where screams would have been, even as they fought the Shadowhunters with axe and determination. Pyro was no stranger to violence, even if the saccharine sunshine of Pyroland usually masked it.

But with the screams of the Nazgul echoing all around them, cutting even through their dreamworld, Pyro knows what to do. These things are afraid of one of their best friends, one of their favourite things in the whole wide world. They just don't have the tools to use it. Or do they?

They need fire. They need fire, and so the fire comes. While another may have found summoning their newfound magical abilities to come more by chance and with far more surprise, Pyro has always believed in magic- And the rainbows that they see flare through the air towards the closest threat, a flamethrower's range in length, are nothing but. Fire, pure and simple. They may not see it the same, but they know what it is.

With hands occupied by this burgeoning magic, Pyro can't exactly sign to anyone. But hopefully a muffled cry, an attempt to direct others to stay behind them, will do the trick. Pyro's always been good at protecting. This is just a little more intensive than the usual Spy check.

WILDCARD

Feel free to hit Pyro up with anything else!

'NEATH ARABIAN MOONS

[ahelpingpaw]

...h...hi.

[There's a lot Filbo has patience for, really. He's welcoming to people and generally tries to help others feel at ease, but he's a bit slow to approach Pyro despite the kind gesture]

You kinda...forgot to clean that axe.

[The sight of dried blood there makes him a tad wary]

Cammie MacCloud

[tr1xx]

a. not a desert bunny

i. open

Anyone who's seen Cammie around the Heartstone camp will have probably come to recognise her by her distinctive rabbit ear hearing aids, even if they haven't talked to her much yet. Only here, in the desert? She's not wearing them. They're tucked away safely in a bundle of cloth in leather satchel from the market, because she'd rather go without hearing for a day than get sand in the workings and have to go who knows how long before she could figure out how to repair them.

But it does mean she can't hear much. Basically nothing, actually; something particularly loud, or right by her ear, might catch her attention, but otherwise? She's reliant on sight and lipreading. Maybe you come up from behind her and make her jump out of her skin, maybe you try and talk to her without knowing better and think you're being rudely ignored, one way or another there are definitely unique challenges for her on this walk.

ii. for dan

But, for the most part, Cammie ends up sticking pretty close to Dan as they make their way across the desert. There's been time enough to teach him some BSL in between the other, more immediately relevant things she's been happy to let him teach her, so it's hard to argue with it being safer for her to do so. She still might've tried, if it were other folk, but Dan's not been treating her like a little kid whilst he helps her out, so he's got a lot going for him right now.

"It's too damn hot," she signs, speaking aloud at the same time even if she can't hear Dan if he speaks back. Her pronunciation changes only slightly for not being able to her herself as well as usual. "I know we didnae have much of another choice, but christ."

She doesn't always remember the signs right away, it's been a long time since she used BSL regularly, but she actually remembers more than she thought she would.

b. rest and restock

Walking through the aftermath of a battle will never get less haunting. Cammie's slowly numbed to a lot of things, but this might never totally be one of them; even as she puts it aside to focus on the here and now, it's hard not to let her gaze linger on the signs left behind.

She collapses, first of all. Her legs ache, and she's thirsty, and she feels ready to turn into a Cammie-shaped puddle on the ground, but she can't. She chugs some water, she rests her legs for a while, offering some water and conversation to anyone who settles nearby, opening with anything from, "Nowhere should be that goddamn sandy," to "You feeling as knackered as I'm sure I look?"

But when she's decided she's rested "enough", she pulls herself back to her feet and starts looking around. Pulls a face at the rotting fruits and vegetables, and focuses instead on the sealed barrels. "So, do we just... pry these open, eat our fill an' try store some like our other rations? We cannae carry the actual barrels, right, so..."

c. now that's more like it

i. open

What the fuck is it, exactly, with enemies who look like they'd shop exclusively at Blue Banana and coming at her like she's done them some personal wrong by existing, huh? These— whoever they are, a couple of them corner her and it's only the damn magic of her sword that gives her any chance of really holding her ground as long as she does before something gives. It's like one of her friends once said, with an enemy you have to get lucky every time, but they only have to get lucky once to fuck you over.

That's ringing through her head the whole time, as their blades get closer and closer to hitting their mark. It's when a parry doesn't work, when their blade catches her side and the wound burns, that she finds herself thinking this it is. Finds herself wishing she at least had fucking armour like she was used to, for fuck's—

And that's when something changes. She fails to parry another strike and she braces herself to die, here, to never make it home, but it— doesn't happen. The feels an impact, but no pain. When she looks down, there's a faint shimmer of something covering her body, flickering more visibly where the strike hit. "...well," she says, "that's new."

Whatever it is, it only seems to piss the Shadowhunters off more, and Cammie finds herself blocking more brutal strikes. Still backed into a corner, she has no idea how long this weird magic defense will hold, and, gritting her teeth, she shouts, "Little help, here!"

Look at that, she's learning to ask for help.

ii. open

Once she's in the clear, though? Oh, Cammie's going to make use of this. This is more like home, being able to tank hits that would fuck up anyone more vulnerable. Sure, she's not made of metal right now, but isn't weird magical armour arguably better?

As long as she's sure the field is still up, when she sees someone in trouble, she doesn't hesitate to put herself between her and the business end of whatever weapon's coming their way, "Oh no ye fuckin' don't!"

wildcard

[ Will match style, also down for other prompts not included. Cammie taking a hit for someone can apply to any enemy, in theory. Hit me up on bluecitrine if you wanna plan something. ]

Rest and Restock

[unsealthecatbox]

The sealed barrels are promising, that's for sure. Far better than the rotting stuff! Maybe this city has been abandoned for longer than they expect. Ange gives the barrel a kick on the side, just to test how full it is. Ah, this doesn't sound hollow at all! It must be full to the brim!

"Prying them open will have to do. By the time someone else comes whatever is in here may be nothing more than rot and mush, anyway"

This party is lucky! Potentially edible stuff, right here! Still...

"It could be spices, or something you wouldn't want to eat a lot of at once. It's a gamble either way"

On the other hand, does anyone have the luxury of getting picky with the food? As long as it's not a barrel of cumin or something similar, any food is good. The more filling, the better!

Michelangelo

[partydude]

D

It's dark, which means any ambushers have ample opportunity to try and divide the group and take someone on individually. The Shadowhunters don't always succeed at it, but there's a few cases of a small squad of them managing to back someone up against a wall to keep them from running.

There's no way out. Not without some kind of distraction, anyways. Like, say, someone on the rooftop shouting "COWABUNGA!" at the top of their lungs and dropping down right onto one of the Shadowhunters. planting his feet firmly on their face.

The weird thing is the rescuer seems to be some kind of giant, humanoid turtle. Michelangelo's not sure where he is, where his brothers are, or what's going on. All he knows is that the tattooed dudes seem like bad news, and someone should be doing something about them.

"Alright dudes. We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Mikey says,, spinning his nunchaku effortlessly. "Easy way is you give up and I go track down some pizza, Hard way is I kick all your butts and then I go track down some pizza."

The remaining Shadowhunters attack, and Mikey deflects one of the weapons with his own. "Hard way it is. I never saw the appeal of getting kicked in the face, but you do you brahs."

E

Mikey's initial reaction to the Nazgul showing up isn't exactly the most normal.

"Holy crap, are those Ring-wraiths? That is so freakin' cool. Also so freakin' scary, but still so freakin' cool."

That said, despite his joy, he's booking it with everyone else, and helping the less agile get past any obstacles.

"C'mon, we gotta go." he says while pulling someone, "Trust me, I've seen Lord of the Rings like three dozen times, you do not wanna let those dudes catch up."

Wildcard

[Start your own, but keep in mind Mikey's not showing up until the squad hits Agrabah and is actually going to be hiding until the fight starts. Which doesn't rule out someone finding him before then.]

D

[cspd]

Lloyd's had his back against worse walls, admittedly, but this is still really not shaping up to be a good night for him. So when a - giant turtle??? - drops in, he's not about to complain. The moment the Shadowhunters turn their attention to Mikey, Lloyd's back on the offensive, lunging in low to smack one in the shins with his tonfa.

"When we're out of this, I'll make you a pizza if I have to."

He's been told he makes a pretty good one, actually.

Kara Zor-El | Supergirl

[notyoursupergirl]

1. fucking around
Soooo, Kara's having a bad day. Like a baaaad fucking day. And okay, maybe part of that is her fault. Maybe breaking a box that holds a transdimensional wormhole was not a super great idea, but whatever. She's pretty sure she doesn't deserve to face plant into a sand dune.

"Okay." There's a teenager in bright primary colors and a huge ass red cape who's just crash landed near the gang. She's trying really hard not to have a full scale freak out, "Okay. Cool. This is fine. I'm in a desert and my powers aren't working. This is totally fine."

It is the opposite of fine, but please don't tell her that.

2. finding out

Kara does not need powers to kick ass. It's just like a little awkward against an opponent with swords. Fortunately, Kara is strong enough to break off a club sized chunk of wood from one of the shattered stalls and now she's squaring off with one of the freaks in black.

"-need your help!"

"You've got a weird way of asking for it!" Kara winds up for a swing, trying to keep the weirdo on defensive. Unfortunately, she's still getting used to having like normal senses and that makes it easy to miss the other shadow-y freak sneaking up on her.

3. you better watch out, you better wATCH OUT, YOU BETTER WATCH OUT

There's terror and anger follows hot on it's heels and Kara's pretty sure she's going to die here. She's going to make it count. Grabbing discarded pottery and half rotted apples, anything. She throws them hard at the Nazgul she's found.

"Come on! Come on, you Casper reject!" She doesn't run when it approaches, just takes measured steps back, "Come on, you freaky bedsheet, let's go!" She just has to get them away from the others, she just has to survive long enough to open up a path for the others to escape. She probably should have grabbed a fucking sword.

WILDCARD
[hmu on thatoneblonde if you want something specific!]

[slowmotionbuscrash]

[ Caped blondes don’t fall from the sky, even where Tommy’s from. If they’re falling, there’s a big fucking problem.

He sees where she’s dropping and stars running in that direction. Slowly. Like so fucking slowly there’s almost no point in running because she’s already down. If she’s going to die, she can’t get deader. ]

Hey!

[ Scrambling up the dune is a challenge of feet kicking out awkwardly and stumbles that almost bend you in half. Screw sand so hard. When he reaches her, he’s almost winded.

At least she’s alive enough to be complaining. ]

It’s not okay, but you’re as okay as the rest of us. I’m Tommy, apparently former speedster.

[ He just throws it out there, because. Primary colours and a cape. She’s a superhero. If you know, you know. ]

Nuwa

[saclayfice]

Arrival

[She arrived like a mirage in the desert.

There are people in the group who are keeping an eye out for potential foes approaching. They certainly would be able to sense a presence that doesn't belong to anyone else in the party. Before long, anyone should be able to see the woman in ancient Chinese clothes coming closer. She's not walking, though. Nuwa comes levitating a mere foot above ground. Someone really doesn't want to be touching the hot sand, it seems -- even though it's nothing she's not used to. The Netherworld favours deserts a lot, after all.

If the levitation wasn't enough proof she's not human, her appearance certainly will clue anyone in. The yellow eyes, bordering on serpentine, the slightly greenish skin...there's no way Nuwa passes as human. Once she's close enough, she looks at everyone and just...chuckles]

So this is what I was drawn to. How...intriguing.

[It certainly wasn't what she expected. Nuwa expected some sort of powerful reason to be here -- the Green who dragged her into this world doesn't count, as far as she's concerned -- and instead she found the most mismatched bunch ever. It's charming, in an odd way. She can't say she dislikes this all.

Hello, everybody]

City

[A city in ruins is more of the same. Maybe this whole Wilderlands place is just another part of the Netherworld and she somehow was never aware of it until now.

Nuwa doesn't seem to have the same needs as everyone else, though. She seems pretty content with watching everybody else mill around to get food, water, shelter...at least she has her feet on the ground instead of levitating. Nuwa has deigned herself to step around]

Perhaps it will be of interest to you to be aware there's food... [She languidly beckons to a crumbling wall] ...behind this wall. I believe it's olives. Well?

[Nuwa sure doesn't seem to be making an effort to get it, though. She seems far more interested in letting the others handle that. She sure doesn't seem to consider herself part of the party, it seems]

Attack

[Ah, perhaps as expected: they're getting attacked by a bunch of humans and other supernatural creatures. Nuwa avoids the Nazgul as much as possible. For some reason they make her feel very afraid -- and given who she is, that's remarkable, and not in the way she likes.

That's why the Shadowhunters are the ones she takes her frustrations on. Truthfully, Nuwa is partial to humans...but that certainly doesn't stop her from getting very aggressive when she wants to be, and right now, towards these ones attacking her? She doesn't feel like being merciful. They're just rabble, she thinks. Barely worth glancing at them.

Several Shadowhunters gather around her, all of them ready to capture her and very much not caring about the sort of injuries they may inflict on her. Nuwa isn't unholy despite being a demon -- very much the opposite in the alignment chart, really -- but she's very much not someone they'd treat kindly]

You reap what you sow, as they say.

[They came to attack her, then she's going to destroy them -- or at least that's her intention. Unfortunately, the nerfing makes her powers be far less effective than she'd like. They're still enough to launch the Shadowhunters away, slamming them against the walls and knocking out a couple of them -- the fainted Shadowhunters most likely going to wake up again in matter of a couple minutes, thanks to the runes on them healing them faster. Nuwa sprints forward, slamming her foot onto another's head, pushing it roughly at the ground to knock that one out as well]

Vexing...

[If her powers were at their peak everyone here would be dead, that's for sure. This is some serious nerfing!

Slowly, she turns her head towards someone else from the Wilderlands party]

This area is safe for the time being. Stroll through, if you like.

arrival

[moonlightfrost]

[ Do these two actually know who each other are? Nobody seems surprised by anybody else showing up at the Temple of Eternity so I'm going with sure, why not.

That, and her be-hatted buddy breaking into the research lab all the time. You better believe he's been getting reports on that.

So. Fancy meeting you here. ]

Alone, I take it?

[ Not many rocks out here for Yakumo to lurk behind and all. ]

Alloran-Semitur-Corrass

[takenalive]

[you know what I'll respond to this comment with prompts as I come up with them]

[takenalive]

Too Hot (Hot, Damn!): If he was alone, Alloran could have crossed the desert swiftly in bird morph. He does spend some of his time like that, a six-winged alien bird riding the thermals and keeping four eyes out for things to report; how far they've gone, how far they've yet to go, outcroppings of rock along the way, dust storms. Much of the rest of the time he's towards the back of the group, as an alien monster slightly resembling a twenty-foot tarantula studded with rocky plating, picking his way on three pillarlike walking-feet, dragging ceramic water jars on a wooden frame behind him with any pair of the morph's three slablike arms. It's a big enough morph that someone could seek shade under it, probably.

Whenever he returns to Andalite shape he spends as little time in it as he can - his eyestalks droop, his tail lies on the ground, he often doesn't bother standing, and his nostrils flare as he gasps for air - before returning to the bird or the tarantula. Morphing or demorphing is a hideous, horrible process to behold. It looks monstrous; it looks incredibly painful, and it's never the same twice. This can be elaborated upon.

Ange Ushiromiya

[unsealthecatbox]

[Today, Ange Ushiromiya goes to the desert. Needless to say, she doesn't like the desert]

Trek

[It's hotter than she thought it'd be -- and she expected it to be plenty hot. Ange did all she could to prepare herself for the trip ahead, listening to others prepare and imitating what she could see, and even then, it's not like she did a perfect job. Around three fourths of the way in she starts trailing the rest a little, hanging her head and only looking up every once in a while to make sure she's not too far behind]

How do people manage to live in these conditions...?

[She misses the troll market. At least it wasn't hot like hell]

Agrabah

[It's evening when they arrive. What a place! And it's so...abandoned. So there's a pattern going on or is this her imagination?]

Are we going to constantly find more abandoned places? It's starting to feel as if we're following a trail of destruction.

[It's grim to think about, but at least it's evening and the air is far colder now. Mulling this sort of thing is far easier when you're not melting under the hot sun!]

Stabbed

[Well they're now under attack. Awesome, just awesome. Why is she not surprised?

The Shadowhunters are no threat, really -- she has the advantage of them not wanting to injure her as badly as they do other people. She's just a human, everyday girl, after all! Can't even call herself a witch. Ange takes advantage of this by running away, being a tad more experienced with the nets and stuff.

The Nazgul are the problem, though]

Run! Don't ask questions and run!

[Ange is absolutely terrified. It's not even a terror like the one caused by the Nightrenders, this is the terror of facing something you don't understand at all, the fear of something extremely dangerous and evil. Ange runs by, climbing a scaffolding, jumping over to a crumbling building, guiding anybody along. A Nazgul is always nearby, in pursuit, but Ange seems to have a bit of a knack at getting creative while fleeing.

Anyone observant would see something alarming, though: Ange is bleeding. She has a stab wound on the back of her shoulder. Seems pretty shallow, but it hurts like hell, that's for sure. Ange's tear-filled eyes say that very well]

Re: Ange Ushiromiya

[hourglasshalfempty]

[Raistlin can't run as fast as the girl - who he only vaguely recognizes - but there's enough of a boost left over from Need that he can snatch her as she runs past in a panic and pull her into the hidden alcove he's warded.]

Quiet!

[His voice is an angry hiss. when he speaks, he speaks so softly that he practically has to put his mouth against her ear to be heard.]

Running attracts their attention, do you understand? Fear and panic seem to draw them. Contain yourself!

[He hasn't, as yet, noticed that's she's bleeding]

Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

[northerndragon]

Sands
(the “help this poor overheated man catch up” prompt)

[It is a rare thing, to stumble out of a forest into a desert. It should not be possible. Snow, he’d understand, or green fields, but to have something so alive and growing against something dead makes little and less sense.

The sight of him must be rarer still: a man dressed for a cold winter in the middle of a warm desert, with a big white wolf walking along at his side. By the time he catches up to the group, he’s taken off the heavy fur-trimmed velvet cloak he had been wearing, but there is still an armored leather tunic, a gambeson, a gorget, woolen trousers, boots, and more. His slightly long hair is pulled back, but it’s not long before his face is pink and sweat is dripping down the side of it.

The dream had been vivid — the one a few weeks ago, where he fell through the trees, fought something, helped someone — but as with dreams, he has nearly forgotten it in the passing weeks. He has gone from a the roads near Winterfell to White Harbor, where he’s boarded a ship. It’s not one of his recurring dreams, the dreams of the crypts and the dreams of the Wall. Yet it seems to be recurring now.

Many faces look a little familiar — momentarily glimpsed in the previous dream. A few do not. Whether he’s confronted as he joins the party, or joins quietly and speaks to someone next to him, he eventually asks,]

Where are we going?

[He doesn’t sound very sure of himself. All the while, the wolf keeps as close to him as it can.]

Agrabah

1. [He picks through the streets like anyone else. This looks like it was once a great city… greater than any other he’s seen, though there are not many cities in the North.

When he comes across the first orc body, he frowns at it and turns it over. When he sees the face, the frown deepens into a scowl. His reaction to the great handprint is the same. In either case, he looks at someone nearby and says,]

What is this?

[OOC note: this prompt can be for either the handprint or an orc, depending which you like.]

2. [Nonetheless, he has little compunction picking through what orc bodies he comes across. At a certain point, he brings back a small piles of bags of grain and spices and weapons, and toys shaped like trolls, though he is not sure of what use the latter thing might be or indeed what the toys depict. He sets them down wherever the rest of the group is gathering.]

I don’t know if these will help, but —

[A shrug. He’s gathered them in case they might.]

3. [Where there is a place to drink, he can be seen encouraging the big white wolf to do so.]

Shadowhunters: cw violence, maybe gore

1. [The Shadowhunter closes in on… who? Someone, anyway, and Jon is here to try to help. He exchanges a few blows with one. They should not be able to keep up with Longclaw, and there is something different about his sword now, too, something in its gleam.

But eventually, his enemy gives him an opening, and he drives Longclaw right through them, then offers a hand up to the person who had been their quarry.]

You all right?

[Words of concern, but they sound terse, urgent.]

2. [Jon is so busy fighting, Ghost at his side, that he does not notice that he’s in near danger of being caught by a net.]

3. [The monkey isn’t flying anymore. It’s unconscious or dead, dragged along by its arm, which is clamped between the teeth of the big white wolf.]

Nazgul

[When you’re afraid like this, you can stand and fight. Mayhaps you should show your mettle.

Fear is fear, but Jon has only felt fear quite like this once, back at Hardhome, when the full strength of the Night King’s army had come down on his small expedition force and the Free Folk with whom they had come to ally. Standing and fighting there would have been certain death. All he could do was try to save as many of the living as possible, then flee. It was a failure, a defeat, a disappointment.

Strange that the first group of enemies is as troubled by these Nazgûl as he is.

He sees someone standing in the street, and he runs up to them:]

Go! GO!

[A Nazgûl is advancing. Do you flee, leaving Jon to fight it or flee with you, or do the two of you stand and fight together?]

[OOC: So, I have technically been in the game since it opened, but I also got sick opening day and haven’t been able to work out a good time to jump in since then! Treat this as Jon’s intro: he has not really been around, except for some brief handwaved participation in that very first battle, after which he went home for a while. Now he’s back and confused.]

nazgul

[katzenprinz]

[The random teleporting has been very disorienting. Caleb's still getting his bearings after the most recent one when a stranger is suddenly yelling for him to go, and then the fear hits like an icy wave. The tension of it grips him as he turns his gaze to the shadowy creature approaching, that old intense fight-or-flight instinct.

The immediate shock of it and the shouted order has him nearly complying, staggering back away from the thing and half turning away. He could run now. He should. He can't figure any of this out if he's dead, and after everything that's happened he doesn't intend to die like this.

Before the Mighty Nein, he would have run.

But even through the fog of fear and panic, he can't ignore this stranger's clear willingness to fight. Fight to give him a chance to escape, at that. Noble, idiot fool.

Caleb swallows down the lump in his throat and instead halts only a short distance away, sidestepping to keep the stranger with the sword between him and the monster. He digs one hand through a pouch at his hip.]

Distract it for a moment and then we can both run, ja?

[The thing shies away from the burning canopies of old market stalls as it stalks closer. Worth a shot, if his magic doesn't decide to shit out on him again.]

Sarah Kerrigan

[zerg_rush]

ok i'm not anywhere close to having all my ideas sorted so i'm just going to post beneath this as i get starters written

a - hotter than hot

[zerg_rush]

During one of the group's rest periods—more frequent than she would have taken, but there are a lot of people here who aren't psychic space Amazons—Kerrigan sprawls against a rock feature too large to be a boulder and too small to be a cliff, but nomenclature isn't the important part. The important part is that it casts a shadow.

She takes measured sips from a salvaged troll cup that in her hands looks more like a tankard. If the stuff were coffee it would be lukewarm, but since it's water, it's past tepid and starting to edge into outright hot, and something about the spring it was drawn from or the vessel it was stored in or the cup it's inhabiting now has given it a metallic taste. Despite it all, it's requiring a considerable exercise of will to keep her from chugging it down in a few gulps.

Sweat darkens Kerrigan's red hair and has left streaks in the sand on her face, and where it's dried, the salt pulls at her skin. The exhaustion of the rest of the group presses at her mind, and where her armor isn't trapping sweat, it's itching. The engineers who designed it hadn't considered there'd be a time she'd need to wear it in the desert without the active temperature control working, so she has no way to unzip a shirt or take off her boots to cool herself. Her only option would be to strip it off entirely, and it's not modesty that's stopping her. It's the thought of the skintight bottom layer trapping sand against her skin. The burn blooming on her cheeks and nose is already shaping up to be bad enough without rubbing the rest of herself raw.

Kerrigan scratches underneath her ponytail, or tries to, her glove making it an unsatisfactory experience. "Dammit." Why is adversity always so annoying? "Can I trade this for a nice sucking chest wound?"

Dan Sagittarius

[hallelujahjunction]

For Dean

[hallelujahjunction]

Having a horse to chauffeur cargo has ended up being both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it's made keeping ahold of things that are just too heavy or, in the case of this terrain, hot, much, much easier. Blankets, extra food, tools, changes of clothing. Dan's a creature of the desert and the mountains, and he's well-aware that once night falls and people decide to bed down, having a little bit of warmer clothing will be necessary to make sure folks don't end up shivering away their precious rest hours. He walks Concrete Blonde by his side with the rest of the group, helped along occasionally by Bunny's tunnels, trying not to let it show too much that he loves the dry heat when so many of the people around him are so uncomfortable.

It's not a sixth sense so much as just Dan's typical paranoia that urges him to unload the horse when they get to the ruins. If they get attacked, better to have the mobility to fight, even if that means abandoning some non-essential supplies when they need to retreat. Dan's got decent endurance for a smoker, but keeping up with most of the crowd here on foot is difficult; he doesn't want to be worrying about depleted cardiac stamina in combat.

He's settling Concrete Blonde into an abandoned stable, brushing sweat from her sides and cooing, when the Shadowhunters attack, and at the first sound of danger, he throws himself up onto her and charges her on out with an arrow nocked in his longbow to do what he does best: get people to safety.

The problem is that their enemy seems to really, really hate him in particular, and that means that his presence is more a threat to the folks he wants to make sure are getting out safe than it is a benefit. It doesn't take long for Dan to piece together that the better idea is, instead of trying to make sure anyone who isn't a combatant is escorted to the periphery, to distract and to directly fight the flying monkeys and what appear to be ninjas covered in glowing tattoos.

So that's what he does, racing the horse down a street as fast as she can go to try and put some distance between him and the Shadowhunter racing along inhumanly fast. He sits up and turns to fire an arrow at the Shadowhunter, loading up another arrow, taking his eyes briefly off the horse's path-

-and clotheslines himself on a literal clothesline.

He hits the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him, and that's what keeps him from getting up fast enough to avoid the Shadowhunter's blade as it slashes across his thigh. Dan has a high pain tolerance, but this breaks it; he shouts and fails to stumble to his feet, reaching for the knife in his pocket as the Shadowhunter towers over him and prepares to skewer him with her sword.

Caroline Forbes

[headcheerbleeder]

For Tommy

[headcheerbleeder]

[Dead people and destruction or not, this kingdom ignited many of Caroline's Scheherazade dreams, and while picking over the corpses for baggies of za'atar, she was definitely imagining magic carpet rides and starry nights and tamed tigers and peacocks with their plumage trailing them down the street like wedding trains.

As far as Caroline's concerned, she could either look at what's in front of her and see the wreckage of a scared people, the crushed childhoods, the decay of someone's abandoned home, the corpses strewn in the alleys, and feel the crushing weight of how little they know about their mission, how high the stakes seem to be, and sink beneath the blackness of that burden until she can't come up for air. That doesn't help anyone.

Or she could see how this is an adventure, a chance for her to see a whole new world, a chance to rise up to the challenge and provide others the strength and comfort they need in a time of tumult and fear.

She prefers the latter, even when right now, she is angry, blood boiling with the audacity of these tattooed douchebags and literal flying monkeys attacking them after everyone had a long, hard time walking in the stifling heat. The fact that they seem to have it in for her, especially, just stokes her fury.]

Is it just me or are these guys tools? [She rounds a corner and finds herself across from Tommy, you know. That guy who doesn't understand why Ryan Gosling is a minor god. That guy.]

Rowena MacLeod

[paganpoetry]

[ahelpingpaw]

[Perhaps it's for the best he was at a desert once during the Snaktooth expedition, even if it was for a short while -- while they were searching for a good place to establish a settlement. At least he knew to expect the intense heat.

It sucks, big time.]

Sandstorm

[Maybe it's a bit unexpected that Filbo is faring decently well in the unforgiving heat, despite all his six-foot tall height, and that fuzzy fur. If an old grumpus pushing seventy was able to survive for an undetermined amount of time in the desert, why couldn't a much younger and healthier grumpus such as him survive for one single day?

Perhaps if it wasn't for the sandstorm it'd all be okay. Huddling for safety behind rocks is fine, but there are three problems here: one, he's larger than he had any right to be. That just makes it harder to hide properly behind the sparse rocks of where he is, so he's getting blasted by sand every time he moves even a little bit. Two: it's a bad time to have huge eyes. Filbo is forced to have his eyes closed at pretty much all times, not wanting to risk scratched corneas. Three, this fur...it really catches the sand. It doesn't take long for Filbo's coat to have a ludicrous of sand peppering it.

All in all, he's not the picture of someone accustomed to the rough conditions of a sandstorm. Then again, when is he the picture of an example to be followed?]

Respite

[Finally, arrival to somewhere safer than the desert. These ruins are quite tragic, he'd say -- look at how abandoned everything is! But it's better than being out there.

Filbo is still a little bit shaken by the experience, but in general he's okay. He's covered with sand, though, courtesy of the sandstorm from some time ago. When nobody is looking he tries to get rid of it the best he can, but it's as if his fur refuses to let go of it, and truthfully, he really doesn't want to go waste water on this, especially when there's more desert and sand around here.

When he feels anybody nearby, though, he pretends everything is fine, smiling as bright as he could]

W-Well that was a trip. Rough day, eh? No heatstroke, right?

[Filbo really seems far more concerned for everyone else than for himself. He asks that no matter who he's talking with, really]

Shelter

[Filbo thought he'd never be in a life-or-death situation as this one ever again, yet here he was. It hadn't even been that long since the disastrous Snaktooth Island excursion, and now here he was, once again in trouble.

Perks: the Shadowhunters regarded him as a waste of time. The experienced ones ignored him, leaving his capture to the younger ones. The younger ones cooed over him condescendingly and left, leaving his capture to the flying monkeys. The flying monkeys tried their best, but Filbo was too heavy for a single monkey to push or carry around. Three or four were trying their best. Monkeys certainly are stronger than humans, but there's quite the interesting detail: they're not as resistant to fatigue as humans, and Filbo wasn't a dead weight they could push around. He sure didn't sit quietly and let himself be pushed around!]

Up here!

[If you're in the palace area, you should look up! There's Filbo near the entrance, waving at you. Behind him, two monkeys pull from his other arm]

Come and--ow, knock that off--hide over here! There's a safer route over here!

[Indeed, the palace seems to be pretty ruinous, full of higher places that'd at least give plenty of time to run away from Nazgul daring to capture people. Somehow, Filbo managed to get a safer place to stay at.

Although he sure was unable to do a thing about the flying monkeys still pulling from him!]

Spencer Hastings

[eternalmisery]

For Need and Guts

[eternalmisery]

[Spencer has decided this is all real.

It's not necessarily something she believes, but she's decided to conduct herself as if it's all real, and ultimately, that's the same thing. That's David Hume, in a very simplified sense. She's going to conduct herself as if this is all real and cooperate with others and do her part to not advertise, in bright, marquee, five-foot-eight font, that she's the most vulnerable person here.

Following the big argument about leadership, Spencer's been more open to interacting with others, sleeping near Kon's group and regularly eating with Elle, lurking around Guts for knife lessons. She's been getting enough to eat. She's been sleeping on the ground instead of up a tree.

But she's still weakened by three weeks of torture followed by however many days here of paranoid self-abnegation, and the travel here to the ruins exhausted her. She feels frail as she picks her way through the corpse-strewn streets, collecting little useful supplies here and there - scissors, another knife, string, a razor, a bag of salt - listening to the corpses of the orcs as if they're whispering at her. She stops and stoops over one of them.

And that's when the Shadowhunters attack, with one of them leaping down towards her from an abandoned fruit stand with a glowing blade that misses her head by half an inch.

Spencer screams. She may have been aspiring to not be the most vulnerable person here, but ambition is only part of the formula for success.]

Crowley

[hellbentley]

A) Hotter than Hot - or not? - Open

[hellbentley]

[Dressed all in black the way he is, head shrouded, it's a little easier to see Crowley as closer to what he once was: an angel. Oh, sure the dark cloth screams "fallen" but it also looks a lot more angelic. Formerly angelic. Angelic in everything but color scheme only.]

[Also, they didn't have sunglasses back then.]

[Still, in general, it's a lot more dignified than skinny jeans. Take off the Valentino sunglasses and give him longer hair and he'd be fit for a Renaissance painting.]

[He's very quiet as they walk. Reflective. It's been a while now since he's been to any deserts. Demons go where the people are and civilization has sprawled out and gotten very congregated in many other places, so it made sense for his assignments to move.]

[He makes a striking figure, standing on a small dune as everyone rests, looking out on the heat rising off the sand. He's thinking of Egypt. And the cries that went up in that city the day after so many doors were marked with lamb's blood. And he's thinking of a hill named Gogoltha.]

[He'd been there for both. There were two different types of cries on each of those days. The Tenth plague had been worse, though. He'd heard rumors that Death had handled the Tenth Plague direct, an unnerving prospect. But he'd never confirmed them. It felt almost cruel to ever ask Aziraphale. He imagined it was the kind of thing that would've made him want to drink for a week, whether he actually did it or not, the way Crowley had wanted to - and did - after finding out about the Inquisition.]

[Golgotha, on the other hand... He still tries not to think too hard about Golgotha and the various interpretations of Her Will, because one of them is that Original Sin is at least part of the sin His sacrifice was for and if that's the case there are things on his head he'd rather not be there given where Original Sin supposedly came from. He mentally skirts around that thought like usual.]

[His thoughts are swirling around in a way he hasn't been able to pin down. It all has to do with Chosen People. People meant for a purpose. He worries about what doors they'll be asked to mark by whatever chose them - and what ones they might be asked to leave clean, despite the cries might come from inside them the next day.]

[Or if being Chosen by something instead means being chosen like the Lamb. The beings doing the choosing might not care about whips and crowns of thorns, if thy will be done.]

[And he wonders about Her and whether she's tugging the usual strings or letting someone else tug them and simply watching the show without interfering. It feels a bit too pointedly Chosen One-ish for her to not have her usual subtle fingers in things somewhere.]

[He looks up at the sky and says quietly:]

What are you up to with all this? How much of this is you?

[The spot is a good spot to also look out on the desert and gauge some distance to what might be some kind of city. He deals with anyone joining him by unthinkingly holding out his water skin to whoever it is.]

[Despite the heat and carrying a pack with some of the supplies, he's barely broken a sweat. He's much less dehydrated than some of the others.]

[He's dealt with much hotter, after all, and not just because of his time in the desert.]

The good news: it's looking more and more like buildings instead of rocks. The bad news: it's still a ways off and I seem to be the only one that doesn't mind the heat.

[At least to such a strong degree, where it doesn't seem to bug him at all.]

finn

[bythehand]

[ i won't pretend i have the raw power to write every prompt at once so i'm going to split 'em for posterity

that said if you want a closed prompt or to do a wildcard etc. feel free to hit me up here or at comatoseroses ]

A (OTA)

[bythehand]

[ Finn hasn't exactly had a fantastic past couple of days. To put it way more lightly than it merits. It was every possible shade of fear and confusion and grief and exhiliration and relief and unfamiliar, fumbling joy. Still is all those things, maybe. Somewhere. He still hasn't figured out what to do with all of it, because there are more important questions left unanswered.

Rey, Ren, Starkiller, the Resistance, all unaccounted for. He was definitely, last he checked, basically getting murdered in the snow. All things that are not true now. Being here feels-- off. Somehow. He doesn't know exactly how. He just knows it's different. Knows the crushing, jagged dread of being brought somewhere and given a weapon and given a mission and given a sort of assigned unit, whether he wanted it or not, after everything.

Everything, as it turns out, happens so much.

So one can imagine how cool a time he's having as a party member. Generally. It's wild to be deeply personally offended by his circumstances while also deeply sympathetic in understanding that literally nobody got to choose to be a part of this.

(It's no comfort that this is vaguely what he was raised for and that what he was raised for, he's always been good at, but if being what he is can go to good use saving someone else the same trouble for however long it takes to get back where he's supposed to be--

Well.

He can't exactly un-raise himself anyway. Might as well.)

Finn is, generally, dutiful and helpful. He carries himself with pinpoint-perfect military posture. He offers to help carry things. He offers to take up the rear watch. If someone near him stumbles or falls, he offers them a hand up. Feel free to assume he's just done any of these. There he goes again, offers akimbo. At one point he definitely asks someone where this caravan is even going.

Apart from that brand, his social game is not the strongest. Some might even call it skittish. He's wary. A little cagey. Vigilant in the sort of way that says "I've preemptively accepted that the other shoe is gonna drop and that it will probably look like a First Order star destroyer, but I'm also trying to pretend I'm a well-adjusted real person who hasn't preemptively accepted that."

This caravan only wishes it had gotten this well-adjusted person earlier on in the adventure, wow. ]

Stacia: Toplevel

[credit_not_blame]

when the wind's from the east

[credit_not_blame]

Oh, this is bullshit.

Stacia grew up in a temperate rainforest, which means that when she thinks "storm", she thinks of rain. She thinks of lightning, and thunder, and the whooshing of winds. But this? The only thing this has is wind, and the wind is turning this furnace into a sandblaster. In short, it's bullshit and she does not like it.

At least she has fur to protect her from the extreme exfoliation. She shifts into Hispo and turns herself broadside to the wind, to provide some cover for those who don't.

Time to huddle up beside wolf the size of a pony, you lucky son of a gun! Because if you don't she'll drag you over herself.

Holly Short

[darvit]

a. little legs

Holly misses her damn wings.

The heat is rough, but she could handle that on its own—even without her magic healing any damage from the heat as it happens. It's the walking, trying to keep up with people up to two times her size without her usual means of traversing long distances, that really starts to do her in after a few hours. She's a fit fairy, passed all her physicals, has done all sorts of crazy things, but she's always had magic and her wings. No one should have to cross this kind of distance on foot. It's barbaric.

Not eager to show weakness around a bunch of humans and human lookalikes, she toughs it out for as long as possible, but a day is a long time. Eventually, she starts flagging, no matter how hard she tries to push through, and finds herself falling behind, or even collapsing to her knees mid-step.

"D'arvit..."

b. get your heals here

Holly does her best to not get completely buried by the dust storm, despite her size, even if that means having to huddle up with people she's not necessarily eager to huddle up with. Survival's more important than who she does and doesn't trust yet.

After it's over, she heals herself from sandblast injuries as best she can, blue sparks dancing over her injuries. That her magic isn't automatic or as strong as it should be is still a nightmare, but at least it still works, and it's still quicker than waiting for natural healing. Which is why, after she's done with herself, she approaches people with injuries from the storm and beckons them to let her help.

"I still have my healing magic from home; it's weaker than it should be, but it's better than nothing. Let me help."

c. deja vu

Holly has to give these Shadowhunters one thing: the way they react to seeing her certainly puts it in perspective how decent the humans in the group have actually been towards her since she got here. This is basically the nightmare scenario: humans with ill-intent towards her, trying to capture her; it's a bit too reminiscent of a night years ago, now, but ten times worse, because at least Artemis and Butler didn't beat her up to kidnap her.

She's nearly half these people's size, and sure, she puts up a damn good fight for someone so small, but her magic isn't offensive, and she's been hesitant to pick up weapons that have little use when you don't intend to kill. Even when she manages to knock one of their legs out from under them, they return the favour as they hit the ground, and before Holly can react she's caught in the net, cold, paralyzed, and hearing screams of people who aren't even here.

d. not that kind of elf

It's never a good sign when your enemies are just as terrified of something as you are. An even worse sign is she recognises these things; human fantasy films are popular on the Haven black market, after all, some even get as popular as they are above ground. Worst, though, is that bone-deep sense of terror that sweeps over the area, like nothing she's ever felt before.

No need for a fairy's keen sense of magical intuition about the good, the bad and the ugly when that's in play. Holly doesn't hesitate—there are times that you fight, and there are times that the only thing you can hope to do is run, and this? This is the latter, especially considering the beating she took before. One moment, Holly's there, the next, she's gone, there's only what could be mistaken for a heat shimmer in her place, moving through the streets as she ducks and climbs and runs.

But she's never been good at leaving people to their fates, so when she sees someone who looks lost, or too scared to move, she groans, lets her shield fall so she's visible, and beckons them up to the wall she's running on, "Hey, you, follow me, they more complicated path, the harder it is for them to follow us."

Wildcard

[ Will match style. Hit me up on bluecitrine if you want to plot anything specific. ]

Re: Holly Short

[talk_radio]

Bee's been driving near by and has been ever since he noticed Holly start to falter. Not closely enough to make it obvious that she's the reason he was near, but close enough that he's rolling up beside her in fairly short order.

His door opens invitingly, and there's a blast of cold air from the air conditioner inside.

Colin

[outofgalway]

I. before the storm

...well, that's not where he expected to end up. He's pretty sure that this is not Tri Spiral. At the very least it doesn't look anything like Ireland. Or a Sept. Did he take the wrong path? Maybe he should have gone the one that said no. ...But how should he have known that it was a new moon? It had been full in the Gateway.

The lanky ginger teen wipes his forehead, a subconscious motion that stops short when he remembers no, nothing to wipe away there, his third eye is still missing and drops the hand instead, surveying the people he's walking with again.

It's a very mixed bunch. Not all human, that much is easily visible, and that in turn makes him wonder again...

"What kind of place is this?" It's more of a murmur to himself, followed quickly by a nervous headshake and if anyone looks his way in response to his words, he'll duck his head and look away, unsure of his welcome. He's really not done much in recent ...days? Weeks? He has no idea how long it has been since he volunteered for that fateful mission... that would have made anyone happy with him, so he just goes with the crowd for lack of a better option and tries to not bother anyone.

But eventually he will have to, because he really needs to learn more about this place... if he just wasn't so very tired. And hungry. And, all things considered, starting to get thirsty, too. He just hopes that they'll get to a place where they can rest and replenish soon...


II. black breath

And then things went wrong. Of course they did. Of course jumping into the fray, trying to protect those who seemed like they needed help, attempting to make himself useful, ended him up here: Feeling like it's getting harder and harder to hold on to his consciousness, clinging to it with an almost mindless determination of if this is how I die they can't find my body and the attempt to at least find a hidden corner to lie down in. Which slowly but surely leads him in the direction of the palace and towards the woods beyond, though he could not pinpoint that if he tried.

Staying awake and getting away is all that his mind can cling to right now.

I. before the storm

[millenyal_pink]

Elle notices the newcomer when she gets back from scouting to trade places with Kerrigan. He seems to be struggling, so rather than shifting back to Crinos and picking up supplies to help carry, she stays in Feline and makes her way over.

The unmistakable scent of Garou makes her perk up a little. Another one? She doesn't know this guy, not like she knows Stacia and has heard of Ace.

She approaches him head-on, not trying to catch him by surprise or anything. Being snuck up on by a full-grown mountain lion is probably a bad way to start off a relationship.

When she reaches him, she will take a very exaggerated sniff, then jerk her head in the universal sign for 'follow me' and wait for him to listen.

Need & Raistlin & Saturday & Guts' Excellent Adventure

[hasapoint]

Need and Guts

[hasapoint]