EVENT ★ GILLIGAN'S ISLAND

[futurologists]

MAROONED Three days after the eruptions wrecked their havoc, a storm begins. It's not so different from the storm the recruits first encountered upon arrival, but this storm seems oddly and peculiarly driven. In some places of the islands it's nothing but pattering rain, but in other places it's strong enough to lift a fully grown human off his or her feet. And that's just what it does. It sweeps up recruits here and there -- not all of them, and there is no apparent method to who it takes and who it leaves. Some stay on the Nalawi islands, some are simply swept up into the sky. Here and there the storm grabs a Nalawi as well, but these victims are always dropped again. Sometimes out over the water, sometimes crashing down into land. They do not generally survive this. The recruits stolen by the storm aren't aloft for long. They emerge eventually from the tumbling, buffeting, blinding winds, spewed out onto the beach of a strange new island. This island, to anyone paying any attention to their surroundings, is a recent addition to the surface of the ocean. In fact, flying in the face of physics and statistical likelihood (much in the way the storm had), it seems to have recently been on the seafloor. This island was clearly once inhabited, although it's been a long, long time since then. Uniform structures can be found arranged in streets and avenues, now all thoroughly caked in barnacles, coral, seaweed, and other assorted debris of the sea. Here and there can even be found dead fish, suffocated when the water began to drain away and turn to open air. Most of them are horrifying, the things that tend to keep to the dark depths of the water. Toward the center of this empty, silent, sea-claimed city a giant sea serpent threads around and through several buildings. It's just as dead as the rest of them, its huge, pale eyes staring at nothing. There are a few things here that aren't quite dead, though. Sometimes something armored, dull red, and hungry crawls out of some dark place. These creatures can't really be compared to anything on the surface, but they are each about the length of a human, with three sets of sharpened limbs held up off the ground, used for stabbing forward to pierce its prey, and one set of pinchers below that. The pinchers might anchor prey in place for easier stabbing, but they also create a tiny sonic boom when clacked. Standing too close to this can leave you dazed and momentarily helpless. These creatures aren't fazed by the lack of water around them, they're just hungry and ready to feed on anything nearby -- even each other. The danger they present to recruits is at least slightly mitigated by an unknown force, though. If a recruit finds themselves unable to handle one of the creatures or overwhelmed by it, the storm itself will lash out at the thing. This isn't a very precise defense, but it is generally enough to pick up one or both of the contestants and separate them. Nothing here looks anything like what can be found on the Nalawi islands, except perhaps the flora. It's difficult to tell. What trees have been left are waterlogged, petrified mockeries, it's unclear what they may have looked like while this island still lived. The buildings are all very inorganic, made of processed material and with the obvious aid of machinery. Whoever lived here was actually very proficient with machinery, it seems. Within the buildings, some residential and some commercial, can be found the rusted, now-useless remains of a technologically advanced society. Personal belongings can also be found, waterlogged and largely ruined, and all in an upset as if they had gone through frequent and destructive earthquakes. Still, they can tell the story of mundane, day-to-day lives here for anyone who cares to look. Food is going to be a little tricky to come by unless you're a fan of seafood; fishing will be possible for anyone who opts to brave the edge of the storm, and of course there are the bizarre delicacies so thoughtfully raised up from the seafloor, dead among the streets and buildings. Recruits would do well to be careful with those, though. There is a particular kind of seaweed that, while it looks perfectly innocuous, will cause vivid hallucinations an hour after ingesting, for 10 minutes to three hours, depending on how much was ingested. Above all else, though, is the eerie silence. The storm rages on, but although it completely surrounds the island, it keeps to the perimeter. Even the rain stays off of the island, though the sun is obscured by the heavy, ominous clouds. Thunder rumbles now and then, punctuated by lightning flashes, but there isn't a single sound on this gray, dreary, dead island that wasn't made by an ALASTAIR recruit. OOC INFO Recruits will ICly be here for one week, and OOCly the log will last for two. The storm will prevent any travel off of the island. Should anyone feel brave enough to try risking a trip into it, they will find it still possesses that ability to literally sweep recruits off their feet. It might also be due to this mysterious storm that no one on the island can seem to reach out to anyone on the Nalawi islands via jewelry network, nor to any of the NPC recruits they'd met at Oska. Players who signed up for plot slots will be receiving additional information, which we ask they share with the rest of the characters. You may sign up here for information that can be found while exploring the island, as well. Please direct any questions to the OOC write up.

Comments

Bella Charming | OPEN | prose or brackets are ok!

[alamob]

A buggy red bastard almost killed me and all I got were these snake bones]]

Twice in as many days a literal force of nature drops Bella onto her ass. The bruises from the first time haven't had even had a chance to yellow, and thank Heaven nobody's nearby to hear her howl like an alley cat. The timely intervention against the creature makes no difference. It's offensive, and inspirational.

A shelter springs up within one of the ghost island's more spacious buildings. A big something or other knocked down part of the wall on the second floor, which is where Bella sets up; the better for keeping an eye on the street, for danger and for hungry allies.

Three and a half days into their isolation sees a crude fire set up over a rock pile in the center of the floor. Chairs of varying make and size surround it, where more are shoved against the walls for walking room. Mysterious fish cook over a rack, but her real pride and joy are the serpent bones thrust into her belt and lying in a row beside the fire. More and more appear each passing day. There are too many bones and there's too much of the dead snake monster to let alone.

Bella's sure to avoid flashing them when she pokes her head out of the building to scan the road, although her hands busily sharpen more. But then someone probably sentient is trundling through the street and her contact-starved heart gives a little jolt.

"You! Lost yet?"

[grunehexe]

[Sieglinde, for her part, was driven out into the open largely by hunger. She knew that technically she ought to have roused one of her companions and had them carry her, but it was only a short distance, and she'd learned to recognize the sounds of the strange creatures when they came close- enough to hide.

But then a pleasant aroma, (well, as pleasant as deep sea fish could be, which... was pretty good after a few days of hunger), caught her attention, and she... well. It was just a side trip.

Still, she started a bit in surprise at the sound of someone's voice, jumping closer to the wall she had one hand on for support, balancing on unnaturally small feet. She went for the knife hanging from the chain around her waist, but- it was a human, not a creature-]

I am not lost, no...

[But she was hungry, and that smell seemed to be coming from the woman's direction...]

I just thought to go harvest something...

[trenchdoting]

[A scruffy man in an ALISTAIR uniform-trenchcoat combo happened to be wandering by when the lady called out from the building. He paused for a moment to assess the question, then proceeded to respond with a warm chuckle.]

To tell the truth... I'm practically always lost, pal!

[defenceless]

[rin probably looks like quite a sight from way up there, even more than usual. her long, dark hair hangs freely down her back and while pieces of her uniform are still present—her coat, black tights that wouldn't have been found in this murky wasteland—what substitutes for a bottom half for her outfit is quite clearly a large leaf plucked from the unique flora that populate this place.

somehow, the girl pulls it off, making it appear almost stylish.

she stops once she hears a voice, of course; a voice, whoever it belongs to, is better than complete silence. rin's eyes immediately dart to the correct window, taking in bella with a calm but discriminating glance.]

I'll never be lost, out here. What do you need?

[what an answer.

she pauses, then...]

Is anyone up there with you? Do you or anyone else need help?

[nichocolatine]

[ her shout catches him mid-stride, though "stride" is a bit of a generation description of the hasty, almost frantic way he'd been dragging his feet. he turns when her words catch up to him, brow arching in both curiosity and just the slightest touch of indignation. ]

Lady, I'm pretty sure there ain't anyone stuck here who ain't, [ is what she'll get greeted with in turn, and if that doesn't imply his status as a fellow alastair recruit, then certainly the bright purple coat he's got on will.

in one hand is a pretty banged up metal canister, the contents of which he gives an idle shake. ]

Dick Gumshoe | open!

[trenchdoting]

A

[At the beginning of it all, the man wearing an ALISTAR uniform and an old worn trenchcoat ends is dropped right onto the beach and lies there in an undignified heap for a bit. Is he okay?? Someone make sure he's still alive.

Alternately, he can come across any other characters after he's back on his feet! Spoilers, he really is still alive.]

B

[Gumshoe's locked in battle with an armored creature... and it looks like he's losing. He's fallen over backwards and cries out as the creature nears him!]

Help! Please, somebody, anybody!! I'll do anything if you lend me a hand, pal!!

[But then, suddenly the storm acts up and tosses the creature away. Gumshoe just sits there awkwardly for a few moments and blinks, then rubs at his hair sheepishly with one hand.]

Um... nevermind.

C.

[Investigation time! Gumshoe's checking out the town, and he keeps on trying to check his jewelry with a frown.]

Geez... I hope everyone else is okay. I can't even get them on the jewels! [Still, he looks around and tries to ascertain his surroundings.] I guess we should investigate and look for clues, huh? That's the only thing we can do right now. Until we can find a way off of this-

[As if the universe felt that Gumshoe was making too much sense and had to be interrupted, at that moment he looked down and noticed that a dead big red jellyfish had somehow ended up on one of his shoes. He immediately recoils with a shriek.]

Ahhhhh!! Get it off, get it off me!! This is the end, pals!!

D.

[Or it's nighttime and things are quieting down for the evening. Gumshoe's managed to erect a small fire outside one of the buildings, and he's preparing something. A mix of some small fish that he braved the edges of the storm to get, and maybe he'll also be trying to cook one of the freaky deep sea bodies, too. Oh, and it looks like he has some seafood ready on the side! He looks down at it with a warm chuckle.]

Can't forget the vegetables!

Wildcard!

[Feel free to run into Gumshoe anywhere on the island! Including checking out the sea serpent body. I'll roll with whatever!]

A!

[beyourrock]

[The landing was less than pleasant, but Pearl manages o get right back up on her feet. She searches along the shore line for any signs of life, only to nearly stumble over the man on the ground. His trench coat seemed to blend into the sand, which is why she nearly trips over him.

Luckily, she manages to step over him with careful tip toes, and swings back around to kneel beside him.]

S-Sir? Are you alright?

[Her hands flinch, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Shaking it a little.

Please please still be alive.]

Meallan Lavellan | open

[strikingtwice]

I
[Usually Meallan would say he rather enjoys stormy weather, but usually it's not picking him off of the ground like he weighs nothing at all and buffeting him around with enough force that all he can think of is "this is it, this is how I die" before he slams into the ground again with enough force to knock the wind out of him for a moment but, miraculously, not to break anything. He lays there for a moment more, struggling to get his breath back and reassure his racing heart that he's on solid ground, then the elf rises uncertainly to his feet, stumbling for a few steps before he manages to stop shaking and turns to take a step towards the city-- only to recoil with a yelp of surprise as that first step is almost made on the body of some horrifying thing he can only assume is a fish from the shape, although the massive jaws and eyes make him doubt that.]

Fenedhis! What is this place?


II
[After getting his bearings and only jumping occasionally as he rounded some corner and found some new (fortunately deceased) monstrosity, Meallan is starting to take more of a look around both to find others and try to figure out where they are and why. Unfortunately the buildings aren't particularly helpful for him in that respect, though he thinks his luck might be improving as he spots someone else moving in an alcove.

At least until it turns out not to be a someone so much as a something; the red creature clearly only has one goal in mind and Meallan springs back as it darts forward, turning on his heel with remarkable speed to start running down a different path. He rounds a corner and almost collides with someone else, his remaining hand snaking out instinctively to grab for them and drag them with him if he can.]

Come on! I don't know what's behind me but we shouldn't stop to find out!


III
[Food is obviously going to be a problem sooner rather than later. While Meallan isn't unfamiliar with hunger and hunting for himself, he's really more familiar with forests and plains, hunting game over fishing. Even if he's willing to risk the storm to try and catch something fresh, he hasn't anything to do so, which leaves either trying the numerous and often disturbing corpses around the place or seeing what else is available.

The seaweed, while equally dubious seems at least a little safer than the fish and doesn't taste too terrible either, so he's fairly certain he's found a way to at least survive even if it's not terribly comfortably.

He doesn't think anything of it until, about an hour later, Meallan curses as demons only he can see hurtle from the sky.]

A rift? Here? [His magic isn't much, but he calls on it all the same, lashing out at the figures in his mind and anything else that might get too close with crackling electricity, lightning dancing from his staff. Even with his magic diminished, the spells can still cause some pain, and he has every intention of fighting with everything he has.]

iii

[grunehexe]

[It was the cursing that attracted Sieglinde's attention, pulling her away from the task she'd been working on- and the sight was... far more shocking and interesting than working on a net to go fishing with. A man fighting against... nothing she could see, lashing out with what seemed to be lightning.

A mage of some kind?

For a moment, Sieglinde thought to turn back, to go get Graham- but there wasn't time for that when a crackle of lightning came her way. She might have been able to run or dodge if she were more able-bodied, but physical pursuits were the least of her talents, and she was already using one hand on the wall of a building for balance.

But her other hand was free, thankfully, to throw up a barrier spell that just barely deflected the lightning, which promptly destroyed a bundle of barnicles on a nearby home. Her magic was dampened by this place, but thankfully so was his-]

You, there- !

[She banished the shield as quick as she was able to conserve the magic, calling out from around the corner of the building.]

Stop that at once!

badou nails | ota

[nichocolatine]

A. TWIST & SHOUT

[ head's up, recruit.

no seriously — head's up. because minutes before this a certain redhead wandered a little too far from where he was supposed to be and wound up on the wrong side of town. meaning he just so happened to cross paths with one of those weird demon crab things, and seeing as how he is rather woefully mortal with only his guns (which have limited amount of bullets left in them) to help him out, some kind benevolent storm... wind... thing??? decided to lend him a hand.

meaning he got blown away again.

meaning he got blown away and dumped right unto you. hope you aren't delicate! ]

Well. [ sprawled out with a kink in his back that may or may not be someone's elbow or knee, badou doesn't really show any signs of moving save for the slow and steady way he blinks up at the grey sky. ]

That coulda gone better.

[ fuck his life, seriously. ]

B. BLAST FROM THE PAST

[ here's a protip, kids — stay away from drugs. if it ain't urchins, it's seaweed, and frankly badou's 90% convinced this entire planet is out to get them because you don't just make two things look exactly the same when only one of them has any actual consequences. if that ain't a giant "fuck you" from nature, he doesn't know what is.

anyway the point is he fucked up. bad. and so did you, if you happen to walk in on him right when the chemicals are the most potent.d

pick your poison:

1. he's got a gun to your forehead, and a hand wrapped around your temple. in his veins his blood thrums with a familiar heat and ache similar to those moments when the nicotine withdrawal would hit him the hardest, but his mind races here where it had dragged before, and every cell in his body feels like it's on the verge of exploding. he looks like a madman, except there is nothing but sharp clarity in his visible eye and when he speaks, his tone is clear, precise— ]

Why? [ that's all he wants to know. that's all he's ever wanted to know. ] Why'd you kill him?

[ 2. the first thing you'll hear is the scream.

high, loud, blood-curdling. it's the scream of a young boy still on the verge of his teens, who had wanted to help but had gotten in way over his head and now his brother is dead and his eye hurts, or whatever's left of it, and when you find badou, he will be there, on the ground, back to a wall, clutching his hands over his eyepatch like he had never known true pain or fear before this. fingers claw at the leather, at the skin, desperate to make the pain go away. ]

C. WILDCARD

[ when not suffering from the previous scenarios, badou can be found doing other things as well! wandering around the abandoned homes, idly poking the dead sea serpent wondering if it's edible, sitting on a rock by the shoreline watching the storm rage on, sucking diligently on a lollipop like its a life vest, tinkering with and/or cleaning his guns, building himself a nice, cozy fire out of some wood debris and his trusty lighter which still, fortunately, works. ]

B-2

[strikingtwice]

[Meallan is cautiously investigating some of the ruins when he hears the scream, the raw sound of it freezing him in place for a heartbeat before he turns and runs in the direction it came from, instinctively concerned for whatever would cause anyone to make such a sound. It takes him a little while to find the person who made the sound, the buildings and streets confusing enough that he has to backtrack on one occasion, but luckily he does manage to find Badou eventually.

His only fear is that it mightn't have been fast enough.]

Badou? [Dropping his staff, Meallan moves to the other man's side, reaching out to grab one hand and try, possibly futilely to stop him from clawing at himself.] Stop! What are you doing?

Papyrus | OTA

[boneafide]

A. LANDING

[Being without magic entirely is something no monster has experienced before, he's sure. Because monsters... are made of magic. To not have any- he technically shouldn't be alive. A pile of dust, really. What would perpetuate him, if not magic? And yet, that's what he's dealing with. A completely, magicless skeleton monster. It's more unsettling than he wants to admit, but at least he doesn't feel like he's actively dying. So he'll just do what he always does when he doesn't know how to deal with something- completely ignore it! Just pretend it isn't happening at all! It's a good enough plan.

Pulling himself together on the beach he's "landed" on, Papyrus works to dust all this sand off himself, taking a personal inventory. Communicator, check. Backpack, check. Scarf and cape, clothes, check.

But where was Sans? Or Undyne? Maybe they landed elsewhere.

Oh look, there's someone else in the distance there! Time to go check on them!]

Hello there!

[Papyrus yells, waving and running on the shore to whomever might be in the sand there as well.]

B. HALLUCINATIONS

[It was, perhaps, not Papyrus' best idea to try and eat the seaweed. He has... eaten weirder in the past, but per usual, his decision to shove some weird plant in his mouth did not result in anything good. At first, everything seems fine. He's off exploring again... when the acid seaweed kicks in. Unfortunately for those who might find him, he has now climbed atop the giant sea serpent that lays dead in the middle of the city, laying on it's head and petting it as if it were alive. Even more unfortunately, if Papyrus notices anyone approach, he sits up quickly and waves to the newcomer.]

Oh!! Neil, this is my friend, one of the members of my group!

[And now, beckoning to whomever may approach-]

Come here and meet Neil! He's very friendly, and he lives here!

[Yeah. He's uh. Befriended a giant, dead sea serpent, and named it Neil.]

C. WILDCARD

[ Tag me with something! ]

B

[trenchdoting]

[Gumshoe just scratches at his head uncertainly as he looks at his friend.]

Um... Hey there, pal! [He gives the sea serpent a good glace and then looks back at Papyrus. He is very Concerned.]

...What's going on now?

the huntsman ➶ once

[dishearten]

ＲＯＵＧＨ ＬＡＮＤＩＮＧ.

( the kick of the storm reminds him too strongly of the curse. it's rain and cloud and wind, not smoke and fire, but it's not a happy memory all the same. he doesn't have time to try and call for his brother or even do much of anything but accept the rush of wind. he's lucky that he wasn't taken completely unprepared, though then again, it's been a long time since he trusted things wouldn't go wrong. he always tries to be prepared.

still, the landing is tough, and might have knocked him out, a little; he's definitely dazed when he hits the sand, wind knocked out of him and it's not like he's doing the best to begin with. he didn't really need help to get winded. at least the fuzz in his head is suddenly ejected when someone else lands not very far away. not very far, meaning, more or less an elbow to the chest.

Graham exhales a slight wheeze and stays down, but at least he didn't pass out. he's always hard to get up again after that. he can't quite talk yet but he presses a hand to the shoulder of the unfortunate soul that landed on him. he'd like it if you got up now. )

ＧＩＭＭＥ ＳＨＥＬＴＥＲ.

First thing first, even if they've got exploring to do and questions to ask, the first thing Graham sees to is making sure that there's relative shelter for the stranded recruits. He picks a spot in the jungle and if he gets the proper help, will wind branches together to make walls and cover. He's easily tired but he'll spend much of the first day accomplishing this. Including fire. He's really that good.

He'll also work at fishing, boiled in salt water and moderately filling. It's not fun to collect rain from the storm but once it's boiled it's not horrible to drink. Recruits that need help collecting sustenance are welcome to help themselves... but he might ask someone else to do the fish cleaning, because now he can understand the limited cries of unhappiness of the poor things and it makes it really hard to kill them.

When he does sleep, it is incredibly deeply; if trouble is coming, he'll probably need someone to help him wake. Otherwise if it's dark and he's not passed out, he'll be by the fire, possibly willing to make conversation if you try him.

ＬＯＯＫＩＮＧ ＦＯＲ ＡＮＳＷＥＲＳ.

( once he has the time (and the energy... both are at a premium for him lately), he heads for the village of sorts to poke around. it's easy to find him, he doesn't bother to be stealthy as he moves around. and if he gets weary you'll spot him leaning against a wall or perhaps crouched to look at the seaweed, collecting the unique types to show to Sieglinde when he gets the chance. )

ＣＬＯＳＥＤ.

( Sieglinde, as always, is determined to be helpful, despite the fact that in this element it might be better for her to stay out of the worst of it. the storm never seems to abate and she is incredibly determined to help him fish, so he can't find a good reason to refuse her. he'll just to be careful to make sure she doesn't blow away.

before he lets her face the storm, though, he pulls a swath of fabric out of his bag to offer her. it looks like a perfectly innocuous cloak, but still, he bids her sternly, ) Put this on.

( if she's going to go out in the storm, at least she needs a bit of protection from it. he doesn't look like he's up for debate on the matter. )

[grunehexe]

[Sieglinde knew a lot of things. With the right ingredients at hand, she could create a powder that stopped bleeding on contact, a potion to induce sleep, a poison that would burn the lungs of a man from the inside. She knew almost every legend and story told in the European tradition, knew the histories of the princedoms and city states, knew the way to stitch a wound and just where inside the body all the organs were and their function.

But she hadn't known a single thing about taking care of herself before being recruited to ALASTAIR. Since then she had learned some new things- how to make a net, how to properly make a fire... But when it came to food, she really only knew the theories. Graham, though- he knew so many things that she did not, and as proud as she was... She wasn't so much so that she couldn't acknowledge his superiority in those matters. It was an exchange of knowledge.

So she didn't protest really when given the cloak- should he not keep it? But the storm edge at the ocean was... Not at all attractive seeming in her current clothing, that was true. So she accepted it with a murmured "thank you", dwarfed by the size as she arranged it over her shoulders before raising her arms to be carried. There was no Isengrim to help her now- no Brother, either.]

Is this cloak of a particular make?

[Her magical senses were tingling slightly, and dampened as her abilities had been since the eruption... They were still worth listening to.]

koltira deathweaver | open

[respired]

i. stay frosty;

[ The storm threw him around like a rag doll. It's a degree of helplessness he doesn't often experience, and as a bonus, his armor became completely waterlogged. So Koltira's just trying to relax a little bit while he waits for his armor to dry out: it sits in a darkly glowing pile beside him, and he himself wears only a loose pair of black pants.

He's leaning against one of the petrified trees, whittling away at a piece of wood, carving it into a winged, vaguely draconic shape. The wood's a bit damp, too, which makes this work slow going, but he seems grimly determined.

Byfrost, too, is nearby--stabbed into the ground, its malevolent aura still as present as ever. ]

Sit with me a while. Away from Byfrost, if you please.

ii. when seafood attacks;

[ Enough hanging about. Koltira's got his armor on and his sword out, and he's exploring. In the course of this, he comes across the monstrous sea creatures--they remind him of the makrura back on Azeorth--and he doesn't hesitate to strike. He has but little magic left to him, so his usual techniques aren't available, but he's still a well-muscled elf with plate armor and a tremendous sword, so that will all have to do.

If he spots a fellow recruit harassed by these overgrown seafood dinners, he'll leap to their defense, jumping in front of them like a tank trying to pull aggro (because that's what he is). ]

Stay behind me! I will cut this beast down.

iii. heavy weaponry makes a home;

[ He's exploring what remains of the residential area when he comes upon a house that seems largely intact. Slipping in, he finds that this place has escaped the worst of whatever watery cataclysm ravaged the island; the interior is dusty and decayed with age, but it is not flooded. There's the typical detritus of family life--a kitchen table, old plates, cracked chairs. Cupboards with rotted food. A couch, collapsing into itself.

But more interesting: weapons. Weapons of all kinds, from basic spears to crossbows to swords to -- is that some kind of gun? Koltira picks up a few of the more exotic arms, frowning at them, unable to decipher to their function.

In any case, it's a damn armory.

He announces his conclusion: ]

These people were stockpiling for war.

iv. wildcard;

[ Koltira's here; there; everywhere. He has no physical needs, and he's stabilized besides, so he's not concerned about food/sleep/etc. But he's happy to help with fetch quests or whatever else! ]

ii!

[healplz]

[ Oh, thank god. Honestly, Ashraf had no idea what he was going to do about the creature once it had spotted him; run, he supposed. But the interference of someone else floods him with relief, and he's more than happy to let the man take point. That is, until he sees just who it is.

His brow instantly darkens with a frown, and he takes several more steps than necessary away. To give him plenty of room, of course. ]

Please, it's all yours.

Pearl | Open!

[beyourrock]

A
[Just what they needed. To be whisked away onto some other island. It was starting to irritate the Gem. First the volcano, and now this? She could be seen walking along the shipyard and the docks, taking in what sights she could. While she was irritated, something about this structures rang as familiar to her.

The inorganic shapes. The machanical devices. Granted it was all waterlogged but. One word came to mind. And a sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.]

Dakal.

B
[Once she had gotten. bit of exploring under her belt, Pearl could be seen near the coastline, almost creating a tench in the ground as she paces. The Gem runs her hand through her peach pink hair as she looks down at her jeweled choker in her hand, having taken it off her neck to properly look at it.

It wasn't reaching out. She had to check in on Steven. She didn't see him anywhere during her exploring and ther was no way she could venture into the storm swirling around the island. Pearl glares down at the device. First the explosions, her powers going haywire, then disappearing and now--]

C'mon work! Why won't anything during this mission just work for once?! [Pearl cries out in anger, throwing her choker into the sand. Luckily, it's only met with a gentle bed of sand to land upon. She shudders in anger, hands balled into tight fists as she takes a moment to steel her emotions.]

C
[One night, you may find Pearl at the coast, sitting beside a small fire. She sits hunched as close as she can to the fire, trying her best to look at her own work. upon closer inspection, it looks as though Pearl is working on creating handmade weapons, made out of sticks, stones, bits of metal, and whatever she could find.

She seems pretty focused on her work, and looks rather unkempt. Her uniform was tattered at the hems, her hair tossled, and dirt decorating her once snow white skin. Dull. Unpolished. But she's made some progress, apparent by a few weapons she's made thus far, assembled beside her on the sand.]

Wildcard
{{ooc: I'm also open to wildcards if you so desire!}}

B because reasons

[weirdologist]

[Having done his own exploring, Ford finds his last unexplored location to be the coastline. Ah, there was that old familiar feeling that he got when he saw beaches and water. Nose wrinkling, he gives a small sigh before he hears a voice. Ford's hand automatically goes for his gun before he realizes that it's Pearl, and for a moment he's tempted to leave her be and go back to Mabel.

It's clear she's upset. Just like he and his niece had done, she must be trying to get in contact with those she cares about. He's...never really been good with emotions. That was Stanley. But he can understand how she feels. Ford approaches carefully, standing a distance away to give her her space.]

I see you haven't had any luck either.

[Way to go, Ford.]

Ashraf Salib | open

[healplz]

[ ONE: landing ]

[ When Ashraf lands, face first in the sand, he's really inclined to just stay there. The man is a pretty pathetic sight, with his fancy robes soaked, sandy, dirty, and splayed around him without an ounce of dignity. He's definitely seen better days, there's no questioning that.

When he finally pushes himself up into a sit his face is covered in a sand that just doesn't want to be wiped away. His eyes fall on whoever it is that hasn't landed far from him, and it takes him a few seconds to put together any words. But eventually, low and a little pathetic: ]

I don't suppose you have a handkerchief on you?

[ TWO: en guard! ]

[ Ashraf is currently cursing himself. He saw that red-shelled thing in the area, he should have left as soon as he'd spotted it, not become intrigued by the function of some long-dead waterlogged machine and stuck around to investigate. He's too used to nothing being much of a threat to him. But that, of course, was back when he still had magic.

He backs away from the monstrosity with his twin cross-tipped staffs held out in front of him. They're useless except as a bludgeon, but hey, he'll take what he can get. He's also beginning to stain his nice, fancy robes with blood as it leaks from his side where the thing had found him with a limb. He hasn't paid much attention to the wound yet, but the pain will kick in as soon as he remembers he can't immediately heal all that away.

In the meantime, though, he could really use a hero. ]

[ THREE: closed to Rin! ]

[ He's seen better days, which is more true now than it had been when he'd first touched down on this waterlogged shore.

Ashraf sits against one of the buildings in the shadow of one of the side streets, head leaned back against the stone behind him. He keeps one of his arms clasped against his side, trying to stifle the blood there. This is the worst. He's checked, the wound isn't that deep, he doubts if it's life threatening, but beyond wrapping some scavenged material around his side as a bandage, he has no idea what more to do for it. It's pulsing. Is it suppose to pulse? Is this part of sporting an injury for longer than five minutes?

He buries his face in his free hand with a low, unhappy noise. This... this is the worst. Being a normal person is a horrible experience. ]

[ FOUR: gone... fishing....... or not ]

[ Ashraf stands on one of the piers, in one of the few places with intact boards all the way across its width, and looks very in need of a sensible opinion. He peers down into the water with a hand over his mouth and a thoughtful crick to his brows, like what he sees perplexes him. There are fish down there. Large fish. And normal-looking ones, not like the monstrosities that pepper the island around them.

He, unfortunately, has no fishing pole and no idea how people get fish out of water without a fishing pole. In fact, a fishing pole might not even help much, he's never used one before. So instead he eyes the pointy end of one of his twin golden staffs, then looks back down to the fish again. Maybe... if he aims carefully...? What he's contemplating is a use no one back at the Church would ever want to see applied to his Divine Crosses, but hey, desperate times. ]

1.

[grunehexe]

[Despite being a witch, Sieglinde has never flown upon a broom high up into the sky, never really flown much at all- and she hadn't enjoyed her first time, either, tiny body more than easily swept up by the tempest winds. Even knowing it had to be magic, (something that became clear even through panic and fear when, mid-flight, the winds had begun to purge animals and natives from its embrace but not her fellow recruits), didn't make it feel any safer or less frightening, and the rapidly approaching ground...

She chokes down a cry and rolls into a ball around the bag clutched in her arms, slamming into the sand with a sickening crunch... That thankfully probably came from the bag and not her. Dazed, it took a moment for her to sit up, pupils mere pinpricks in emerald spheres as she tried to take stock of herself, pull the wind tangled and rain slicked hair from her face so she could actually see-

Belatedly, the sound of someone speaking to her registered, and she turned to look the stranger (new recruit she hadn't met?) over somewhat blankly. Handkerchief. Ah. Handkerchief.

Somewhat woodenly, a bit shell shocked, Sieglinde reached for one of the leather pouches about her waist, fumbling to open the fastener and pull out a handkerchief almost as soaked as the rest of her, with her long dark hair and green clothing looking more like a wad of seaweed washed up on the shore more than a girl, holding out the handkerchief in his direction.

... She wasn't close enough that he'd be able to take it without moving, but.]

Evan Friave-Goodlace | OTA

[evantuality]

[a. Weeps]

[The noise that comes out of Evan's throat as he checks his waterlogged bandages is not the kind of noise that should come out of twenty-year-old man at any point.

The bandages that cover half his face and hold a pad of makeshift gauze over the hole where his eye used to be are soaked, natty, now caked with ocean-floor muck, and to Evan, who has never had to deal with a wound more serious than a fractured toe, this is a disaster. The noise may be comical, but his distress is real as he gingerly pats the bandages and winces at the pain in his face.]

Oh my god I need to change these, they're filthy-- [he cuts himself off again, visions of infection flitting through his mind's eye to add to the terror of permanent disfigurement. He's near either hyperventilation or tears and he's not really sure.]

[b. He'll always find his way to school]

[A couple of days in and he's got his head on straight enough to do a little bit of tentative exploring. He has stuck mostly close to others since being marooned, but the introverted young man couldn't resist the call of the ruins for long. And of course, some way, somehow, he has meandered his way directly towards what had apparently used to be a school.

Evan can be found sitting amongst plastic molded chairs of a stature that can only be for kids, leafing his way through plasticized pages that have survived the flood. His one good eye is round, his visible brow furrowed.]

I should be more surprised by this than I am.

[The page he's looking at features cartoonish cat-people, cheering after having chased off an antlered ungulatoid on the previous page.]

1.

[adlantisag]

[ Kida comes up from the pier, having recently tussled with a lobster. She holds the unfortunate creature at the end of her spear, having spiked it through its belly, punching right through the carapace. Not before it managed to take a nasty chunk out of her leg, though. She limps, teeth grit, blood gushing. ]

You! [ Oh my god, that is not the tone of someone who wants to be questioned. ] You are the fire-starter, yes?

[ Not said, but strongly implied: you better be. ]

Sieglinde Sullivan | Open

[grunehexe]

⚝ 01; SERPENT ANATOMIZATION

[When confronted with a giant sea serpent corpse, most young girls would let out an "eew" and probably scamper in the other direction... but Sieglinde isn't most young girls. But even for an abnormal girl this might be a bit much- considering she's used one of the slices someone else was kind enough to make when harvesting meat to... actually... step in to the creature. Half in. Actually, she's about knee deep in spilt serpent guts, her skirts hiked up and wading towards... a large organ she suspects is the stomach.

If you're nearby you might want to watch out- whatever she just stepped on squirts something awful. But if you're nearby and don't seem disgusted... you might just get roped into helping.]

I want to examine the stomach contents- have you a longer knife?

[The one she has is only about six inches.]

⚝ 02; BUILDING EXPLORATION

[Lives interrupted. Sieglinde knew what that looked like now that she'd joined ALASTAIR. Examining what was left would give clues as to who had lived there and how they had lived... but there was something lonely about it. Something unsettling.

She'd found what she was looking for, waterlogged and barely held together clothing, picking it up with gloved hands to examine it, when suddenly she froze. Was that noise someone approaching or just her imagination?]

Who is there- ? Announce yourself at once!

⚝ 03; SNELL'S WINDOW

[When she isn't working towards efforts to understand their location or how to get off the island... Sieglinde has a pet project. And that pet project is the giant dead sea serpent in the middle of town. She'd already dissected parts of it to understand its diet and death, but then came harvesting.

Spells often called for rather strange ingredients, after all, it was better to take things when you had them.

The young witch can be found sitting on the ground with her back against the wall near the corpse, a makeshift mask over her face and gloves on, gently scrubbing residual viscous and slime off... a large, semi-transparent orb that almost fills her entire lap. Maybe- Maybe it's not what you think it is. But the corpse is missing an eye.]

⚝ 04; GROWING PAINS

[Where people gather is where Sieglinde stays, preferring the comfort and safety of numbers. She was hardly in any condition to go up against the strange sea mantids that roamed the dark parts of the street, and beyond her healing magic... the majority of her skills and knowledge weren't of much use in strict survival situations. But she's a growing girl with a large appetite... and though she's trying not to be too obvious...]

What are you cooking... ?

[Her stomach is grumbling something fierce even as she tries to ignore it and work on some diagrams she was sketching in the dirt with a broken piece of coral. Something smells good- and she wants it. The art of trying not to look too desperate was a difficult one, however.]

⚝ 05; ABOARD THE AWS HEIMKEHR

[Since discovering the warship in its dry dock with Graham, Sieglinde has tried to explore every bit of the vessel that she can, sketching out a layout of the ship as she went. Well- as Graham went, and she rode alternatively in his arms or on his shoulders. It resulted in a pretty detailed schematics map, as she was used to this sort of fine line work in her own magic circles- and though Sieglinde cannot cut and lift metal to patch the hull or rewire machines she has never seen the likes of... she can work on removing some of the rust.

Well- on making an acid that will remove the rust. Near the ship she's got a fire going, and she's sat upon an old drum stirring a plate of what looks to be... salt? above the fire, minding it as her gaze moved between the ship itself and her schematics laid out on a nearby box. There are a few other "seats" around the flame for those who want to take a break from ship work, ("Tired?"), and if anyone comes by looking aimless she's likely to call out to them and try to assign them a duty ("You there, what skills have you?"). As it was,]

I am going to need a lot more salt...

01, naturally~

[ackingcraycray]

[Mabel might indeed be root-a-toot-tooting on by, humming a little ditty under her breath as she hauls the most normal looking deep sea fish she could find over her shoulder. It's like an eel, if an eel had been re-imagined as a medieval mace. Surely there's good meat muscle in on this one. Her baby lion child, D.G., trots along in front of her.

Just before skittering and hissing as he dodges a squirt of something stinky from above.]

UWAH! It's alive!

[Mabel chucks the eel beast at the sea serpent's corpse. Which is, she realizes belatedly, still just as much a corpse as it was the first time she passed it. There's even someone inside of it, popping out into view from above.]

Sieglinde? [She tilts her head with a frown. Examine...the stomach contents. So that's where the squirt came from.

Ew.]

Uh.....[She looks around. The place is rather bereft of handy floor items. In spite of looking like a video game locale, this island is pretty sparse of good loot. With nothing else to offer, she draws out her grappling hook and holds it aloft.

She looks from its hook ends to the girl high above her.]

I feel like this is the opposite of what you're looking for.

Jason Todd, mostly open.

[gutpunching]

closed to Mabel.

[It's not his best landing. He tries to right himself on reflex and misjudges the distance in the impossible winds and hits the ground a little too hard before he can roll with the impact. And rolling to his feet afterward—doesn't work out the way it should. As soon as he moves too quickly to put too much pressure on his feet, he's slammed with a horrible spike of pain and a gripping bout of nausea that tells him that something is probably very much not right. His ankle collapses, and he hits the sand again before he can get a grip, braced on his hands and knees and blinking the dizziness out of his vision while he gets his bearings. Which is all well and good, if he had the time for it. But he's still close enough to the edge of the ocean for the storm and the rough surf to keep battering the shore at the edges. And the noise of it is enough to mask the approach of one very big and very red crab thing coming way too close at his back.]

closed to Rin.

[Mabel's a good kid, but there's only so much she can really do to help out in these circumstances. Some time later he's pulled together, if not at all rested in the very conspicuous absence of actual painkillers. Alive and alert, if not as mobile as he'd like to be. Definitely habitually paranoid enough to catch the sound of something moving outside the building he's holed up in and assume the worst of wherever they've been whisked away to. Sounds too heavy to be Mabel, which has him wary enough to force himself upright to intercept.

When Rin rounds the corner of the shelter she'll find herself staring down the barrel of a gun. For all its wielder is palefaced and braced against the doorjamb to keep upright, his aim is pretty damn steady, for the split second it takes for her face to register as friendly.]

residential areas/factory/anywhere there's buildings really. OTA.

[Taking advantage of his mostly-reclaimed mobility, it's time to get the lay of the land. This is no Gotham city, but this is a lot more his speed than the squat island buildings in Komo or the dusty old castle in Oska. It is, however, a hell of a lot more dead than any city he's rolled through. Rusted through and falling apart and silent. Still, he picks a likely looking direction and starts getting vertical for a bird's (if not a Robin's) eye view.

a. Given the eerie silence and stillness of the place, he's not too hard to miss as he picks his way over the rooftops, even from a distance. See something moving up there? Maybe you ought to investigate, if you're able.

b. If you can't, don't worry, he's on his way down. He swings down from a rooftop in a bout of stupidly springy vigilante parkour, landing on a ledge beside a likely-looking window for a little B&E. Problem is, the damn thing is rusted shut. Spotting a potential accomplice down on ground level, he whistles sharply for attention. Be a good sport, huh?

c. Or, later, night is falling and someone's set up some kind of camp for the stragglers to meet up. There's some sense in safety in numbers, even if it takes time for them all to regroup. He's set himself down by the fire with whatever monster fish rations they're serving up today (if you're younger than him, he might casually claim he isn't hungry if you want it.) Mostly, he's got his wrists resting on his knees while he looks thoughtfully at the very mechanical structures in the distance. The dissonance between this and the islands they'd been on before is almost staggering.

Mostly rhetorically—]

Not in Kansas anymore, huh Toto?

docks. also OTA.

[d. Figures that the first place to try and look for a way off an island would be the docks. Where there's a shipyard, there's usually a ship or two. Unfortunately this shipyard is pretty empty of boats. And pretty overrun with terrible red crab monsters. He's trying not to waste his depleting stores of ammunition if he can help it, which mostly means avoiding confrontation. So he does more dodging than dueling, when he opens the wrong warehouse door to find a hive of terrible monsters inside. Still, he manages to back himself into a corner by sheer bad luck once or twice, eyeing the unstable rafters like he's debating the wisdom of using them to get out of Dodge. An assist wouldn't go entirely amiss.]

[e. Once they find the warship, it's a matter of getting the damn thing operational. Jason's no mechanic, but he's got a working knowledge of a lot of things. Vehicles being one of them. And he's one of the apparently outnumbered portion of the crew that errs more on the technological side than the magical one. So he hangs around the salvage to be useful where he can. At some point he's got his head stuck under a particularly trashed console, fishing through the rusted out remains to see what can be saved. Some (smaller, still very much alive) alien crab seems to have made a home of it. He plucks the thing out of the bowels and tosses it out toward what should be the to be trashed pile of junk. Might have aimed a little high, though. Head's up.]

etc. [wildcard me! hit me up with whatever I missed, general warship repair stuff, new and exciting adventures with gross deep sea fish, huddling for warmth, etc. (why would you ever.) do what makes you happy or hassle me for a custom prompt here or on plurk or smth.]

docks, because i am greedy and demand more threads

[healplz]

[ Ashraf really, really regrets taking this walk to the docks. He'd heard them first, this ominous sort of scuttling, clicking sound that he's by now pretty familiar with, and he'd frozen to try and figure out where the sound was coming from. The answer was even more unfortunate than the sound: basically everywhere, every direction. So he'd made a quick, quiet retreat to the very same warehouse Jason had just discovered was a bad move, to round it off at two bad moves in rapid succession.

He pulls open the just-shut, ducks inside, and freezes all over again when he sees the crowd and their current target inside. He's got his twin golden rods held at his belt, but he has this suspicion he's going to need a lot more than that to be a proper rescue brigade. But he clears his throat and finds his voice, because he has to: ]

I'll — call them off you. [ It's quiet, aimed at whoever that is over there, sort of a suggestion to be agreed upon more than an immediate action. If this guy has any better ideas, Ashraf would love to hear them. ]

Gintoki Sakata | Gintama | OTA

[naturallywavy]

1.) GONE FISHING

<sub>[ He wasn’t the best fisherman, especially with the weather like it was. If it looked edible, though, Gintoki was reeling it in— not without some unnecessary shounen yelling and childish complaining. He had collected an assortment of different looking things to eat: kelp, coral, some crustacean kind of creatures and odd looking fish that were covered in barbs. He kept them in his yukata, which was being used as a bag now for all of the things he had received, and made his way back to the small camp where a few survivors were hanging out— like you.

He plops down, exhausted, and hands over the balled up yukata to you. ]</sub>

Don’t have any mayonnaise. Don’t even ask for it.
_{[ yeah, there you have it in your hands— and you can probably feel the critters moving all in the tied up piece of clothing. Should you undo the knot and look inside or hand it back to him? How are we supposed to eat any of this anyway? ]}

2.) SEAWEED

<sub>[ It hadn’t been long since he had eaten what he was able to get— leftovers from the fishing haul he had braved, and as he investigated the rainy and muggy island, he idly toyed his fingers along a few scrapes and bruises on his arms. He seemed to be limping, too, not like this really stopped him from fishing against the storm.

It was raining only lightly, now, muddy boots trudging through water, rocks and plants. Though, something didn’t seem quite right with him, lazy looking eyes keeping their focus on the ground. Typically he would be monologuing to himself about now, but he wasn’t. In the corner of his eyes, however, he sees the shadow of something— something indescribable, but it definitely looks dangerous to him.

In an instant, he draws his bokken and freezes, steadying himself before charging right through the hallucination with a loud yell. Much to his, surprise, once he has done that, it seems to have vanished. Luckily for you, you’re nearby while he’s really starting to feel the effects, and he cries out: ]</sub>

Oi! Get your ass back here— I have questions for you!
_{[ He is, of course, referring to the shadowy figure he had just tried to attack, but you can direct it at yourself or maybe go up and question him because he’s not okay (and it’s just going to get worse.) ]}

3.) OPEN

_{[ hit me with something! ]}

2

[digophelia]

[ Unfortunately, Alice is a, for lack of better words, a veteran when it comes to hallucinations. Not too much of a surprise, Alice kept a good distance away from any campfire, knowing she was taking a risk with freezing and huddling in the cold. She tried to salvage anything that could be fixed, making use of their campsite and doing "housework", if at all possible.

Hallucinations were normal for her and they were oddly amplified, but Alice could chalk that up to stress. She was used to them, she was able to ignore most of them.

Hearing his voice from several feet away as she was gathering up her things to move closer makes her flinch. When he draws his weapon, so does Alice, who hops over with it taken out, ready to jump in if needed.

Oh.

Well, this is awkward. ]

What happened?

lightning | final fantasy xiii | open

[faradize]

CLOSED: KIDA.

[ lightning had come to the beach because — well, because it was the obvious place to go. they were stranded, that much was obvious, whether the other recruits wanted to think of it that way or not — and the best thing to do in situations like this is to be as visible as possible. the beach was mostly free of greenery, and, obviously, on the fringe of the island's perimeter. if someone was to locate them, it would be the first place they'd go.

upon emerging from the groves of seaweed, though, she can't help but be shocked. all the nalawi were dead — the people they supposedly were charged with helping here. she feels disgust, looking at their gently picked at corpses, but she presses on. that easily could have been her, and she's thankful she managed to survive.

she hears the sound of water lapping from afar, as if someone was walking across the beach — a recruit, probably. ]

Someone there?

CLOSED: SIEGLINDE.

[ though lightning didn't have access to any of her l'cie powers, the fact remained that she was ready and able to handle being marooned — as ready as one can be for being swept away from a storm. as such, she decides to do some reconnaissance, knowing she'd be ready to face any local fauna with her gunblade in tow.

finding herself in the gardens in the center of the dilapidated city, she couldn't help but feel like she had stumbled across what remained of pulse a hundredsome years in the future — clearly, whatever was here before was far more advanced than anything of the other islands she'd been on thus far, but for some reason, this society fell apart.

she walks through the area cautiously. this looked to be one of the more remote areas on the island, seeing as there was nary a plant around — at least, that's what she thinks until she stumbles across sand in the remains of a building. she reaches down to brush her hand through it, letting the sand fall through the cracks in her fingers. she then peers up at the bench. this was all constructed — someone set all this up. ]

Someone's been here. [ there's a suspicious edge to her voice. ]

COOKING MAMA.

[ late one day, lightning can be found in one of the abandoned residential buildings, using whatever remains of the facilities to fillet some fish that she'd caught earlier that day. she's using an odd looking hunting knife, which looks maybe a bit too fancy to sully with fish guts. she looks rather tentative to use it, too, despite being so sure of where she cuts and how to do it — she clearly knows what she's doing here.

if someone stumbles their way in to the kitchen, she'll regard them in passing. ]

You're free to have some if you've got a knife.

[ she did work for the fish so you have to do work if you want some, obviously. ]

WILDCARD.

[ got any ideas of your own? feel free to comment here or hit me up at rosebride. ]

iron chef : island edition

[headlining]

[He honestly didn't expect to find anyone here. Keats had been exploring like a good reporter, poking his nose into everything he can find, and this building is no exception. He blinks, surprised, glancing between her, the hunting knife, and the fish she's cutting up.]

Uh. A knife? [He gives her a look, as if to say "does it look like I carry a knife?".] Thanks for the offer, but I'm not that hungry.

[He nods at the knife in her hands.] That's a nice-looking knife you got there, though.

Keats | OTA

[headlining]

A: hallelujah, it's raining...notebooks?

[He's been tossed onto an unknown island, left to fend for himself with a bunch of others who had happened in the same predicament. Some people would mope about it and curse their luck. Not Keats. This is all prime material for his magazine at home - it's like Robinson Crusoe, with more magic...or something like that.]

[For the most part, though, he's finding nothing but junk and seaweed as far as the eye can see. The buildings, though, that's where the clues can be found, by the looks of it. They're in terrible shape, but the form of the buildings, the remnants of life...it all points to a bigger story, and Keats just has to write it all down.]

[He moves from room to room, jotting down quick notes in his weird leather notebook. There's a very nice balcony on the second floor, so Keats steps out, leaning over the railing to take in the view-]

[And something splatters behind him - it's just a piece of sea muck sliding off the roof - but it's loud enough to startle him. He twists his head, the grip on his notebook loosening - and before he can react, it drops over the railing of the balcony, colliding with the head of whoever is passing underneath.]

[Whoops.]

Damn it! [He leans over the railing to look down at his victim, cursing under his breath.] Sorry. Didn't mean to do that! Could you pick that up for me?

[He's not some errant prankster, he swears.]


B: one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish

[Guess who's trying to fish? It's this man. And he's sort of incredibly failing at it.]

[For one, he's decided to take a more creative approach by trying to use a net, rather than a rod. He remembers, vaguely, using a rod before (as a child? it's strange, he doesn't recall), but making one is far outside his jurisdiction. He's a reporter, not a fisherman, for crying out loud! So a net will do. He's luckily found a big piece of something net-like among the debris of the beach, and has waded a bit into the water to toss part of it in when the storm seems to lessen it's torment.]

[Thirty minutes later, and he's given up his attempts, a wet, pathetic figure sitting on a barnacle-encrusted beam on the beach. His long, dripping hair is plastered to his face.]

Honestly, this...is much harder than it looks. [He lets out a sigh, removing his glasses to clean with a sleeve as he squints at the offending ocean.]

Why do the movies always make it look so easy?


C: WILDCARD

[Keats will mostly be going around trying to figure out the mysteries of this place and being grumpy about it all - if you have any ideas, hit me up!]

A

[boneafide]

[Down falls the journal, and along with it, a pen. Both hit Papyrus on his skull, but thankfully don't weigh much, and so it's nothing more than a slight discomfort. Papyrus looks down at both, picking them up and upon looking over the pen, well...]

Oh my God!!!

[He shouts, looking up to where they came from, and spotting Keat and waving the pen around in the air at him.]

This is the best pen I've ever seen!! Keats, where did you get this??

closed prompts; ❦

[defenceless]

sieglinde; ❦

[defenceless]

[rin is busy slicing long ribbons of pink, fresh flesh from slit fish while she wields a sharp knife in one hand, a towel wrapped around its handle for a better grip. it's been sanitized and washed, of course, glistening to a sterling steel; still, at best, the process of severing meat from scales is crude.]

Sieglinde, are you watching?

[it seems strange and out of place, but it's a cooking lesson. rin grabs a fat hunk of seafood in one hand and plops it onto a waiting platter that sizzles above a fire, observing the meat turn from transparent and clear to white on the bottom.

ever so slightly, both sweet and salty aromas linger in the air.]

daenerys targaryen ♛ closed prompts

[conqueress]

for graham ♛

[conqueress]

FOR GRAHAM - IT'S A FISH FRY

[ If I look too long, I will grow sick, Dany knows, and yet looking is precisely what she does, her small frame visible outside the lit window of her borrowed dwelling. The fish splayed out before her upon a pile of salvaged driftwood has a jutting lower jaw and monstrously large eyes, some long antennae extending down before its nose and ending in a bulb.

Kneeling, she sniffs at it suspiciously for the third time. She'd retrieved it from the food store she'd directed to be made, but though the fish had been well-frosted when she'd found it, it's difficult to trust something so hideous. The skin is dark blue, as blue as ink. Shade of the evening. Blue like the Undying. No, do not think of that. The thought adds to her revulsion, but stronger still is the aching hunger in her belly. She had gone days without more than a bite of meat in the Dothraki Sea, and she has no wish to go to bed hungry tonight.

And so she sits back on her heels, gazing at the small knife she'd recovered from one of the drawers. It is dull enough that it was never meant for meat, but the alternative is tearing the flesh apart with her bare hands. For a moment, she remembers how she'd gathered Drogon's burned leavings in her fingers and torn ravenously into the horse with her teeth, as savage as a dragon--and then she pokes the end of the knife into the flesh.

It will be a valiant effort, but for company, she must try. She can pretend. Perched upon the doorstep, Drogon watches the darkness with ember eyes, his scaled head resting upon a pile of small bones. At the sound of an approach, his sinuous neck will rise at attention, his terrible gaze turning to focus upon the newcomer. ]

Rick / closed prompts

[ricksybusiness]

FOR RIN.

[The storm was random and out of nowhere, but it's not like Rick has never experienced anything like this before. Getting tossed about on crazy winds is common on a wide variety of planets, though usually he gets through the experience unscathed -- which is unfortunately not the case today.

He wakes up on the beach, his cheek covered in bloody sand, with his vision coated in a red film. Rolling over is apparently a horrible idea, since once he does that, he's hit with a wave of nausea and dizziness. It's like the worst hangover he's ever had, and it's only with some great concentration on not throwing up that he manages to push himself up onto his hands.] What the fuuuuuck...

FOR RHYS.

[Rick's split skull is bandaged up, but he still isn't in perfect shape. He's constantly dizzy and nauseated, though he's found a decent stop-gap: the seaweed gives a nice, mellow high when smoked with minimal hallucinations compared to ingesting it.

He's somewhere in the ruins, sitting down and trying to cobble something together with scraps of metal. The seaweed spliff in his mouth is not very innocuous; the smell of burning iodine is super pungent and makes it easy to track him down. Not that he's really worried about being found right now.]

FOR MABEL.

[The amphitheatre is like most amphitheatres, if you ignore the way it's all crumbling and covered in dead fish and shit. Rick is picking through the debris at the bottom, on what once was a stage, probably looking for scrap metal. He is using a metal rod to sort through the rubble like some kind of archaeological hobo, occasionally finding something that is more along the lines of corpse-y rather than metal-y.]

Ah -- aw, jesus, there's goop everywhere... [He stabs the goopy corpse thing (a squid, for the record) with the rod, then flings it aside. More goop flies everywhere. It's disgusting business but scrap doesn't find itself.]

[defenceless]

[after another recruit has helped her with one small problem of hers (read: finding a new skirt), rin is out combing the beach of the island, and perhaps that's in rick's favor. she'd recognize that blue-haired old man anywhere—definitely the vile cursing—but the fact quite a bit of his distinctive hair is dyed a color other than blue gives her pause.

wait, is that...?

narrowing her eyes to better focus on his head, rin approaches him from some distance away. already, though, her voice is trembling. it's a little less composed than he's ever heard her before; rattled in a different way, so to speak. ew, compassion.]

R-Rick...? It's Rin. Rick, are you doing okay? That's a dumb question to ask you, but humor me just this once.

closed to gilgamesh;

[invisiblade]

[as if adjusting to a mortal body weren't enough of an obstacle for Saber to overcome, the storm has left her with a twisted ankle and made travel all the more laborious as a result. not to mention the grueling need to fight off hungry human-sized sea monsters, which proves infinitely more difficult in her current crippled state. after just narrowly escaping a deadly assault from one such creature she finds herself deposited deep within the jungle via a gust of wind from the storm that managed to intervene in the nick of time. though really, referring to it as a 'rescue' is far from accurate. scraping her injured body up off the jungle floor takes time, but once she manages to right herself and gather her wits Saber proceeds to evaluate the damage done to her body.

she's got minor cuts here and there, a good deal of them earned from crash landing into a cluster of skeleton like trees. warm blood trickles down her face from a fresh head wound but all in all it's nothing too serious. her main concern lies with the large bleeding gash on her left forearm where she'd blocked one of the monster's attempts to stab her with it's sharp edged limbs. ripping the material of her pants she uses it to shakily bandage her arm, pulling the wrapping tight with her teeth.

there's hardly a moment to catch her breath before she hears the nearby rustling of company approaching. immediately assuming it to be the sea beast seeking her out for round two, her hand desperately gropes for Excalibur's hilt. survival instincts kick in as she scrambles to defend herself. she hefts up her sword- gritting her teeth through the pain and nearly falling back as she swings her body weight to face the assumed opponent at the other end of her blade. slumped in a disheveled heap with eyes wide and fearful it's clear she's caught unprepared for a fight. she's a sitting duck and she knows it.]

[babbylon]

[He cannot find her.

Of course, during the time he would want her most, the time Rin insisted she remain by the woman's side, he cannot find her. She's human, now, without the source of prana that identified Servants like blips on a radar, and so he's forced to forage on foot. To race ahead, because anything could prove deadly to her now. As they both well knew, no mere human could wield Excalibur. It was useless in her grip against anything formidable than a fly.

Gilgamesh wonders if Arturia has ever understood weakness in all her life. True helplessness, beyond the horrors of that hill. And when he emerges from the brush to come face to face with her, face to face with fear so out of place on her proud face, he grasps the answer at once—she'd known only strength, at least ever since pulling that sword from the stone. Strength that had serve to alienate, and condemn her own kingdom, but strength nonetheless.

And now, she knows only frailty.]

Peace, little King. Only a coward would cut you down now.

[Gilgamesh allows her to fall into a slump, so she can clearly see he's no enemy. He crouches before her, surveys her condition.]

Last I tried to heal you, you threatened my constitution. Would you let me near now, that I might attempt the same?