VoidTrecker Express Mods (
voidtreckermods) wrote in
middleofsomewhere2022-01-19 06:02 am
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Entry tags:
- !mission sixteen,
- alice liddell (am) [ou],
- allen walker [crau],
- cassie cage [ou],
- esteban drake [ou],
- fai d flourite [ou],
- inigo [ou],
- jin ling (mdzs) [crau],
- kairi [ou],
- lan sizhui [ou],
- little one [ou],
- madoka kaname [ou],
- romeo [crau],
- sonya blade [ou],
- taiki [ou],
- thanatos [ou],
- tidus [ou],
- trunks brief (future) [ou],
- ~x~bucky barnes [crau],
- ~x~shen qingqiu [au]
Fissures of Time: Ongoing
FISSURES OF TIME: ONGOING
... POI 10-12

FOR SOME, THE MISSION HAS BEEN MORE MENTALLY EXHAUSTING THAN PHYSICALLY. Distortions sprout around the domain without rhyme or reason, and the camps must be moved every new day to meet them, as well as stopping a distortion from deciding to form under them from their presence.
While there's bare-bones vegetation, at least they have their own resources to help one another, as well as what can be retrieved from the Ministry base during return trips to take misplaced civilians to safety. It's straight-forward so far...
...but that wouldn't be standard for the Voidtreckers, and some in their ranks don't want straight-forward. Starting during the early hours of Poi 10, there will be occasional rumblings throughout the land. They last for a few seconds and then stop, seemingly for hours; but then they return, and as the days go on, so do the tremors increase.
It seems the distortions too have become affected...
THE UNQUIET CITY. (CW: People unable to die/rising from the dead, body horror)
A city of rubble and ruin stretches far out around them, where once there were hills and vegetation. Much of the rubble is still smoking as fires smoulder. The fighting isn't over, heard before it's seen.
It must be connected to the same skirmishes seen in other distortions, and so most of you are prepared to meet warriors on foot and mount. But what awaits isn't only the horror of bloodshed. No: the reason that the fighting still continues even as the city lies in ruin is because fighters fall and rise again, as if death were nothing but a short rest.
Puncture marks litter skin and armour, holes from weaponry and blessed-magic visible in torsos, even the spaces of where portions of one's skull and brain should be.
Yet they cannot stop fighting. They cannot fall to the ground, rest. Whatever drove them to fight this war still inspires them to continue, screaming as much in pain as in some sort of twisted ecstasy. Perhaps they are too shocked to do anything else. A city locked in eternal war, distorted in time, doomed to repeat itself.
It's hard to set the equalisers here. Not much is stable and fights are likely to break out wherever there are people. The people of this city have their factions, but they will not hesitate to band together to fight intruders.
A city of rubble and ruin stretches far out around them, where once there were hills and vegetation. Much of the rubble is still smoking as fires smoulder. The fighting isn't over, heard before it's seen.
It must be connected to the same skirmishes seen in other distortions, and so most of you are prepared to meet warriors on foot and mount. But what awaits isn't only the horror of bloodshed. No: the reason that the fighting still continues even as the city lies in ruin is because fighters fall and rise again, as if death were nothing but a short rest.
Puncture marks litter skin and armour, holes from weaponry and blessed-magic visible in torsos, even the spaces of where portions of one's skull and brain should be.
Yet they cannot stop fighting. They cannot fall to the ground, rest. Whatever drove them to fight this war still inspires them to continue, screaming as much in pain as in some sort of twisted ecstasy. Perhaps they are too shocked to do anything else. A city locked in eternal war, distorted in time, doomed to repeat itself.
It's hard to set the equalisers here. Not much is stable and fights are likely to break out wherever there are people. The people of this city have their factions, but they will not hesitate to band together to fight intruders.
EYE OF THE STORM.
They might feel this distortion before they enter it. A spine-chilling thrill, the feeling one might get at the edge of a storm.
—For a storm it is. The moment they enter it their vision will be obstructed, winds howl around them and rain lashes down furiously making a swamp of the ground below them. It's freezing cold and as they walk they will feel something in the storm. Almost as if there are icy hands, reaching out to grab at them, to pull them further into the worst of the weather.
It's hard to know where to place the equalisers, hard to see where the edges of this distortion are. Easier, not by much, to move further in, to find the epicentre and try and take it down from there.
It's a treacherous journey, but the centre truly is calm, water frozen like crystals. Yet temperatures are dangerously low, so it's in everyone's best interests to set the equalisers quick and get out.

—For a storm it is. The moment they enter it their vision will be obstructed, winds howl around them and rain lashes down furiously making a swamp of the ground below them. It's freezing cold and as they walk they will feel something in the storm. Almost as if there are icy hands, reaching out to grab at them, to pull them further into the worst of the weather.
It's hard to know where to place the equalisers, hard to see where the edges of this distortion are. Easier, not by much, to move further in, to find the epicentre and try and take it down from there.
It's a treacherous journey, but the centre truly is calm, water frozen like crystals. Yet temperatures are dangerously low, so it's in everyone's best interests to set the equalisers quick and get out.
MEAN AND GREEN. As the rumbling continues, there comes a strange and worrying distortion. Worrying, as this distortion can be seen from the outside. A hazy blur that seems to move across the countryside, along the left side of the camp you're stationed at. It gets dangerously close at times, and when it does...
Green tendrils of plant life burst out, entangling people to pull them into the distortion. Or chains of flowers spread from the distortion out across the countryside. Beautiful and colourful in the otherwise sparse environment, but those flowers work as anchors, spreading the distortion, expanding it.
To get rid of it they will need to enter, and inside is a thick jungle of vines and bright colourful flowers awaiting them. The foliage is thick and the air musky and sweet. It's easy to get separated, and getting lost is only a matter of getting turned around. The leaves are sticky and vines move seemingly on their own, curling around unsuspecting limbs, trying to trap people in this colourful paradise forever.
And up in the sky above, a woman's laughter can be heard, the heat of the sun bearing down that becomes uncomfortable quick. But don't look up - you may find a large yellow eye - yellow iris, yellow pupil, golden yellow everything - peering back at you, and find yourself being pulled in by the very ground itself by a powerful force.
Green tendrils of plant life burst out, entangling people to pull them into the distortion. Or chains of flowers spread from the distortion out across the countryside. Beautiful and colourful in the otherwise sparse environment, but those flowers work as anchors, spreading the distortion, expanding it.
To get rid of it they will need to enter, and inside is a thick jungle of vines and bright colourful flowers awaiting them. The foliage is thick and the air musky and sweet. It's easy to get separated, and getting lost is only a matter of getting turned around. The leaves are sticky and vines move seemingly on their own, curling around unsuspecting limbs, trying to trap people in this colourful paradise forever.
And up in the sky above, a woman's laughter can be heard, the heat of the sun bearing down that becomes uncomfortable quick. But don't look up - you may find a large yellow eye - yellow iris, yellow pupil, golden yellow everything - peering back at you, and find yourself being pulled in by the very ground itself by a powerful force.

'Eiiiiliiifii.... Siiiiliiifiii...
Don't hide... don't hide...
Everything will be so perfect soon...'
People are woken abruptly in the early hours of Poi 11. If by some special sense, or by a grab at their throat, by a body falling on top of where they sleep, someone else stopping the refugee who was about to take a knife to them.
The refugees have become uncontrollable, raving about wanting 'their Gods back'. The ground rumbles as the woman's voice from the hazy jungle - ethereal, so divine - speaks from below. Grass rises and the sky above burns with a brightness like an approaching sun.
Setting an equaliser will calm the refugees, but only those in the camps. Starting from lunchtime, more warriors and civilians will be found appearing from the distance and from thin air, seemingly knowing where to find the Voidtreckers' camps - and after some very specific people.
Those with divinity, control over weather, nature, and death will be especially targeted, along with anyone who received blessings from the Gods.
OOC NOTES
OOC post. Ask questions here. Let us know about shenanigans here. NPC requests here, set up a thread here. Rewards go here.
TL;DR: Starting on Poi 10, there will be odd tremors around the domain, and more aggressive time distortions. From Poi 11 refugees will lose control of themselves and start attacking Voidtreckers, in and out of the camp.
It will happen abruptly to begin with, but some keen to reading energy will find that it is shifting; like something is breaking in from somewhere else (similar to the time distortions).
Extra equalisers can be picked up from the Ministry base and they will be there to help, but there are also more distortions happening around the domain, so they'll be dealing with those. The Ministry will advise that any non-combatants should stick to the base, and even use the scouting drones to help from afar, if they really need to help.
Undead warriors can be found outside of time distortions, and not all of the people outside of distortions will be 'permanent' people. Equalisers can be kept going for a few hours to keep these people away, but will also need go into recharge/cooling mode.
Don't worry if you're still busy with the Starting log! Or if you've been meaning to tag, jump in here!
TL;DR: Starting on Poi 10, there will be odd tremors around the domain, and more aggressive time distortions. From Poi 11 refugees will lose control of themselves and start attacking Voidtreckers, in and out of the camp.
It will happen abruptly to begin with, but some keen to reading energy will find that it is shifting; like something is breaking in from somewhere else (similar to the time distortions).
no subject
(Not that Wei Wuxian will be the one to say. He already lives that, with Sizhui. He already embodies that, as the adopted child, the prodigal son, the horror overshadowing their youth under a matron's pointed, pushing words.)
"There's no too late," he says, voice soft. "No time where a child does not appreciate hearing stories about their parents."
Or considers their denial and the stolen glimpses they're offered, says one orphan to the brother orphaned first when he was orphaned yet again. Perhaps being Wei Wuxian's family is, indeed, the curse.
no subject
Everyone seems to have children. It's starting to become irritating.
"He seems to think so," Jiang Cheng replies after a moment of pause, enough time to register the words and for him to digest it, to think on what he would like to say in return. "I will find the time to give him more. You should as well, especially now there's two of them."
They'll be twice as demanding, twice as wanting, twice as spoiled. It's completely his fault, of course, but the point stands.
no subject
He laughs, more of a chuckle, and looks forward, off at nothing much with a slow blink of his eyes.
"One of them tolerates more than the other. I'll see what I can do, but A-Cheng, I don't know how to convince a young fool determined to die of heartbreak that he's not dying, that alcohol doesn't solve it, and that refusing to speak with the ones who care for him leads anywhere sane."
Which is a summation of what he's run into with one of the two nephews, and has been ignored on. He doesn't think it's odd, but the things he's tried to talk on... if one doesn't want to hear from someone with more experience with dying than a dramatic seventeen year old, then he has nothing he can say. After all, he had been theoretically dead all those sixteen years.
no subject
All the same, he shoves his brother gently and moves to slump down, settling with a huff.
"One of them gave me this," he tugs at a little charm on his belt, fingers brushing over it gently before he sighs. "I see the other one less. It is easier to adjust to a strange world without your uncle breathing down your neck, I'm sure. I am just here when they need me."
When he's needed, which is rare. He misses being home, misses having work to do, something to manage, work to do. It makes him feel particularly useless here, adrift and weightless.
"But I am here. It's better than not being here."
no subject
"They'll always know where to find you," he says, agreeing without needing to make it more explicit, "And they've friends to get into trouble with, and back out again. Or that's my sense of things."
Straightening out of his bending to look at the charm, he laughs.
"I'm thankful, ah? That we've had this time." The two of them, with all the pain of their sister (martial, blood, adopted, Jiang Yanli a spectre of their hearts throughout), the time with people who they might have not had around in any reflection, the limited time with Wen Qing. Finding children of their own in a wayward, unanticipated manner, and being here, whatever that meant in the end.
no subject
When it had been him and Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang in Gusu, playing around and getting into just enough trouble that he had been worried about his father finding and scolding them. As much as he worries about a-Ling - the both of them - he recognises that this is now part of them growing up.
His fingers brush over the charm again before he laughs softly.
"It's better than not having it," he agrees. He wishes that he could say more - do more, even - but there's not all that much he is capable of right now. He feels a little awkward thinking about all his gains and losses, but at least he is trying.
no subject
A sly smile for that, sideways glance to the brother he's gifted a novel to, knowing it's at least engaging enough to be fun reading, if not particularly close to a pretense of high literature. He hasn't given his nephews anything of the same kind, only the older Zewu-jun, only his son-that-snot-fully-his-son-but-is-as-long-as-he-lets-him-be.
He refills the cup with alcohol, lifting the jar to Jiang Cheng.
"To their health and happiness! Along with the other young souls we look fondly on."
Madoka, Nell, Tidus. A growing, tangled net of some people here on the train, or those who were now gone again, lost to be found.
no subject
Sharing his nephew with Jin Guangyao had been a pain in itself, having to give up his rights to the boy for too many weeks of the year. The fact that he had managed to deal with it to begin with is something of a marvel in the end, surely.
He takes his cup and sighs softly, rolling his eyes but responding the same.
"I'll lose all my hair because of it."
no subject
"I can see it now, you're a hair less thick than before. You might even have one starting to go white."
Though he laughs, lifting his cup and quirking his brow.
"Very luscious, all your hair, if you're losing all of it, I think it'll take some time yet. Here, here! To the health of your hair and it's plenty for years to come!"
He will, absolutely, drink to Jiang Cheng's hair retention.
no subject
"I'll kill you. I'll shave you bald first then I'll kill you."
He's rolling his eyes, but it's not meant to be something real. It's something that feels almost painfully familiar, like something of the years gone by.
"You're an idiot. That hasn't changed."
no subject
"I give, I give. No way to face any forebearers if I'm bald."
Not that he's less ashamed with all his hair, but it can be the jest it's meant to be, not heavier, weightier things.
"I'm an idiot, you're a fool. Some things don't need to change." Like this, drinking and insulting each other in the ways that don't have to dig deep, that can be laughed off, because it simply is the moment, and not the rewriting of their lives through the lens of their worst moments.