epidemiology | EVENT ★ GHOST TOWN

EVENT ★ GHOST TOWN

BONEYARD JUNCTION

Thanks to efforts from your teammates, the path to Boneyard Junction, the abandoned town at the end of the rail line, has been cleared. The train will not go this far, so recruits will have to walk the rail from the next stop over at the Fracking Fields. Most of the danger has been removed, but there still may be a few straggling giant lizards or bandits along the way, looking for a quick meal or an easy robbery.

The ghost town itself is smaller in scope than Perdition's Rest, with several familiar-looking buildings -- the mayor's office, the sheriff's office, a general store -- but the main difference is that the town is halfway sunken into the desert. The ground here is shifting and unstable, with sinkholes and quicksand a constant threat. Venturing inside the crumbling buildings, left to rot in the desert for the past thirty years, is equally dangerous; there's a good chance that upper stories will simply collapse underfoot or overhead, and many venomous, aggressive reptiles and arachnids have moved in since the Qorral moved out.

The Qorral have not been back here since abandoning it, so there is a lot to scavenge, from tech to money or tools to toys, both businesses and residential buildings are ripe for the plundering. The bandits have been through here in the past three decades many times, stripping the town of many of its valuables, but determined recruits ought to be able to find secret caches or overlooked boxes.

Those who venture into the lowermost parts of buildings, however, will find objects of the greatest value, though not necessarily monetarily -- familiar-looking tech, corroded with sand and rusted with age, is littered about basements filled with sand and debris, as if the further the buildings sank into the desert, something beneath the town rose up to meet it. Upon further inspection, the tech will react when placed next to jewelcomms, lights blinking and static-filled screens turning on: this tech once belonged to ALASTAIR, its age clearly dating it much further back than the Qorral's arrival on this planet.

But before Audentes can investigate further, there's an interruption . . .

AMBUSH

There's a sudden cacophony of shouting and gunfire from all sides of Boneyard Junction as heavily armed figures storm in, on the attack. They aren't from Perdition's Rest. They could be bandits, but bandits usually ask for money first -- plus, these people seem much too well-equipped to be bandits. Their clothing isn't haphazard, their weapons are well cared for.

If recruits survive the initial onslaught (better be good at dodging bullets!) and pay attention to the shouting that can be heard above the gunfire, the identity of the attackers may slowly become clear: they speak of salvation and digging deeply. These are the Deemers.

Previously unseen and ostensibly peaceful, the Deemers are now showing themselves to be anything but. They fight recruits with a savage intensity, injuries seemingly not slowing them down. Their only weakness appears to be injury to the head, after which they will immediately disengage and attempt to flee. Though they shout about salvation as they attack with a religious fervor, they also occasionally say something about recruits getting too close to something -- perhaps something in Boneyard Junction itself.

Jonathan Black, leader of the Deemers, makes an appearance, spouting fire and brimstone in an unnaturally loud voice that can be heard above the gunfire and screaming. Any attempts to confront him will be met with vicious attacks from his bodyguards, a pair of shrouded Deemer women who fight with curved swords. Eventually, though, one recruit manages to break through.

Once Black is dead, the Deemers will fight with more desperation than before, now trying to flee rather than attempting to kill recruits. Any Deemers that are captured will not share information, even under torture; they will only babble about deliverance and redemption found through drilling deeper into the planet. After they are driven off into the desert (or disposed of in other ways), the rest of Boneyard Junction is free to be explored without interruption. Perhaps collecting more ancient ALASTAIR technology will bring answers.

OOC NOTES

IMPORTANT: After the Deemers have been driven away, upon return to Perdition's Rest, Miz Poppy and a vast majority of the saloon workers have mysteriously vanished. The remaining workers have no idea where they've gone. All entertainment at the saloon has been postponed.

Please direct all questions pertaining to the mission to the dossier page to keep questions and responses in one place for easy player reference. General game questions should be directed to the FAQ.

If you haven't already, make sure you check out the Bounty Board for side missions! Remember you can also request bounty missions or submit player plots at any time.

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... the Green Witch.

[Elaboration, her title, (her lie), comes a moment after, shaking fingers reaching to awkwardly pull a pouch from her chatelaine, opening it and reaching her hand in...way farther than she physically should be able to, considering the circumference of the cloth. But she comes out with a handful of potion vials, then dives in looking for a different one.

Oh. She should say more-]

Evan does?

[She will remember him soon enough, once her thoughts catch up, but now all as sees when she looks at the man across from her is a vague nagging in the corner of her overstimulated brain.]

I mean- Of course he does. I treated his eye in Nalawi.

[A title. One that has no meaning to him, but must have significant meaning to her if she throws it out there like that. He spares a glance over his shoulder for just a moment, eyes hidden by the shadows from his hat.

he's heard that tone before- it feels like the easy dismissal of "of course so-and-so spoke highly of me, because I was useful to them" or perhaps he's projecting a little. a bad habit to be sure.]

Evan-san seems to have had a very bad time in Nalawi in particular. He was the first person I heard of it from. [it's a casual remark, one he brushes away as he turns back to face the front of the building again, still all easy charisma like they aren't in the middle of a dangerous situation.] Would you like me to stop talking? It's just that the bullets get grating if we sit here quietly.

He'd had his eyeball snatched straight out the socket by a lava demon... Not a good experience, I imagine. I did keep it from major infections, but.

[But they'd been stranded away from supplies and on a world that dampened magic, so that had been all she'd managed at the time. At least once they got back to Osaka Laedo had been able to create a new organ, and the implantation had been fascinating...

Though her fingers still shook and her voice was tremulous, she keeps moving. Comes back out of that bigger-on-the-inside pouch with the right vial this time, shaking it slightly to check the volume before she went diving back in for bandages. ]

You may keep talking.

[She says "may", but it sounds more like "please". The voice of someone not native to her world was easier to focus on, allowed her to remain on the precipice and not tip over into the vat of memories she's been keeping closed since that night.

Even if talking isn't the best way to remain hidden in an attack.]

[he makes a low impressed sound, wondering exactly how he came to get it back- a gift from ALASTAIR, perhaps? but he's too polite to fish for details about someone else, especially not right now. as facetitous as most of his polite, innocent act is, he knows when he might be about to cross a line... and Evan knows a bit too much about him. best not make any waves with that hanging over him.] He failed to mention all of that, though I imagine it's not something he'd be willing to brag about- ah.

[he cuts himself off as there's a sound of footsteps approaching the building. he figured his chattering away would attract undue attention and chose to do it anyway, because whatever came this way, he could handle it. he hears the click of guns ready to open fire without bothering to even throw open the doors and leans forward.]

Sieglinde-san, this may be uncomfortable, and I apologize for that...

[the guns never go off.

the air pressure in the room increases, a sickening feeling that would threaten to drive anyone to their knees because gravity as suddenly betrayed them. as bad as it is in here, Sieglinde is stronger than the unfortunate set of Deemers currently looking to let loose on what they probably presumed were hiding innocents. it's not a blow to the head, but it's as effective as one- crushing someone's skull with nothing more than spiritual pressure is no laughing matter- and only at the sounds of their retreat does Urahara let up on the threat display, the blood-red energy crackling around him dissipating entirely as it's suddenly okay to breathe again.]

Edited 2016-11-04 17:50 (UTC)

[Ah. Maybe she shouldn't have asked him to keep talking.

But there's no time for regrets, because she couldn't even stand now if she tried, and she freezes up as if not moving would make her less detectable to these "Deemers".

Once Urahara's spiritual pressure suffuses the room, though, it ceased to matter. It's unlike anything she's ever felt, not quite, and there at the end of her chatelaine chain, a compass begins to spin and spin and spin, until it stops dead, pointing directly at Urahara himself.

How did one breathe, again? She'd suddenly forgotten, and only the support of the woodwork behind her kept her upright, pupils dilating and hand groping around blindly until she touched the gold scale bracelet around her wrist and traced a runic shape into it. Immediately, lungs expanded with a gasp-

But in the end it didn't matter, because the energy dissipated moments later, and she slumps down, unsure of just what had happened- on this side of the door or the other.]

What-

[Urahara goes silent for a moment, counting retreating steps and making sure no reinforcements come. It was a hasty plan, but one that would potentially yield the best possible result without causing a ruckus he doesn't want.

Once he's positive that no one will be approaching their hiding place, he relaxes.] If I fought them fairly, it would have just alerted more to our position, because they protect one another. By doing it this way, I confused and scared them without causing a scene.

[he's comfortable enough now that he can put his back to the door and turn around and face her.] It was a tactically sound plan, but, of course, there was no way for you to avoid receiving some of the blowback from the reiatsu.

[an uncomfortable pause, and then:] Are you all right?

[Rei, she's heard that bit before. She'd started her studies in the Japanese language months ago, and wasn't that "spirit"? Some sort of... style of spellcraft?

She just nods at first, and that takes about all the effort she has in her, trying to focus on breathing- in, out, in, out, it was easy, wasn't it, natural...]

Of course...

[Whether she meant she was alright or that she thought his plan was sound was left unexplained, though, because the room was spinning slightly. Maybe she should have put up a ward... or some other spell-]

You must be very powerful...

[Because her compass, there in the corner of her eye, was still wavering its point in his direction, not hers.]

[his face is neutral, all due to years of humility and being the type of person who doesn't feel compelled to boast about his strengths when he can just prove it when the time comes.]

I try not to overstate it. It tends to raise expectations. [it's flippant, but in the clinically precise way of someone who is used to choosing his words carefully and making it look like he doesn't.]

That is a wise choice... it is far better to keep such strengths secret until the time is right...

[Which might have sounded like quite the wise little soundbite if Sieglinde's voice was clear and her gaze present, rather than whisky and half-glazed over by memories stuffing up her ears. She half expected to hear Hilde, hear the hate in her voice, the confusing hatred from a woman who had practically raised her.

But Hilde was dead now. This wasn't the Wolf Forest. She wasn't in her world any longer.]

I remember you.

[Urahara. She has spoken to him briefly on the devices, she remembers now. Tries to focus on the memory, on the man, rather than the memories. Catches sight of the small puddle of blood leaking from her shoe.

Ah.]

That's how I always like to think of it.

[his cheerful smile fades as he follows her gaze. well, that won't do. he's not nearly as good at healing as Tessai is, but he's kept people alive and while that injury probably isn't life threatening, it might become that way left alone. he moves a little closer, speaking to her gently, yet blissfully flippant, trying to keep her calm and grounded in the present.] I'm difficult to forget, it's true. Under normal circumstances, I would have expected you to fall all over yourself at meeting such a charming and intelligent man in person, but this isn't really normal, is it?

[he's joking. very obviously and very badly joking, but his sense of humor is an acquired taste.] At any rate, I don't know if you have an aversion to being healed, but I would feel terrible if this meeting ended with you getting an infection or bleeding out.

Edited 2016-11-10 05:52 (UTC)

[If this were any other place, any other time, Urahara might regret such jokes. Sieglinde was far more knowledgeable about the sexes than most people in ALASTAIR seemed to find normal, (hailing from a culture that considered a woman marriageable from first blood), and she was quick to comment on such matters. It would have been easy to say that she expected far more charm if men expected her to swoon, any manner of things-

But there's still gunfire in the distance, she still feels an inexplicable dread that the handmaidens who had tried to kill her that night might not be dead after all, might be here, she just experienced the her first spiritual pressure-

And her foot is bleeding.]

No-

[Her refusal is sharp, too forceful, and she withdraws the burst of emotion as quickly as she can, biting down on her lip and instead drawing the limb more protectively towards her, trying to get her shaking limbs to navigate the laces.]

... I cannot use magic on this. It is no reflection of my estimation of your skill.

[He pulls back, surprised, but not as shocked as someone probably would be normally at having an offer of assistance denied. He assumes, at first, that it's a matter of pride- something he's never held any concern with, himself, but he was raised in a culture where pride matters more than most things. It wouldn't shock him if that was all it was.

He thinks better of it when he sees the way she pulls her foot away, and he lowers his hand into his lap.] If you insist. Would you mind if I ask why? You're under no obligation to answer me, of course.

[But he's curious, and that's all there really is to it. It's not like much is going on beyond the continued gunshots that continue to not phase him much, beyond the general world-weary battle-apprehension that's like white noise in the back of his head. If anyone came near them, he'd know, but battle is a part of his existence, as much as he tries to avoid it.

And he's not really that good at being comforting- not to anyone more mature than small child, anyway. All he has is distraction. Explanation. Logic. A grounding presence in a world slowly going mad, regardless of how little it might help. He may have his back to the door, blocking out anything anyone can see, but he can't drown out the noise. Even a decent barrier couldn't do that.]

[If she focuses, narrows her world to block out the gunfire, the all too freshly familiar violence, she can stop her fingers from shaking. Force them to navigate the laces and untie them, to slip off her shoe and peel off the sock, revealing the oozing wound.

Analyze. Lucky- she was lucky, it had gone straight through between the first and second metatarsals. With as damaged as her nerves were pain wasn't an indicator she could rely on to assess the damage, and it was too bloody yet to see if the bones had been nicked, but-]

It is tradition- The Green Witch must sacrifice her legs to the wolves-

[It probably sounds like babble, like nonsense, and part of her knows that, but that part wasn't the one holding the reins in this madhouse, not anymore, and Sieglinde half mutters it while she reaches for one of her potions, (an antihæmorrhagic), biting into her lip to begin pouring it slowly over the wound.]

It is bad enough I unbound them in the first place-

[It was only fitting this should happen after what she'd done. She shouldn't have been so arrogant. Shouldn't have sought the freedom she had. Shouldn't have rebroken the feet and tried to force them back into a semblance of proper shape, a subtle twist of arch and unconnected angles of her toes remaining signs of what had once been folded in and a mere three inches long.

Maybe it was a sign. (Maybe this place was affecting her more than she will ever wish to admit.)]

[tradition. the grimace at the word goes unchecked, allowed to mar the cool placidity of his expression like a ripple in a pool. as a retainer to a noble family, "tradition" was something he knew about from watching and observing, but mostly all he remembers is Yoruichi's face every damn time she had to present herself as the future of her clan and what the weight of tradition was doing to her.

he's never seen the other side this close before...]

Are there wolves here, Sieglinde-san?

[it comes out lilting- not mocking, actually, but sad in a way that sounds like he was half trying to cover it up and then realized it actually hits him where he lives, and he can't even try to make light of it. ]

Obviously, it's not my place to say anything about it. But it seems like given the opportunities you have here, your choice to unbind your feet means you've changed your perspective on what being "The Green Witch" means. That doesn't make it bad at all.

It's not like anyone can stop you.

[because there aren't any wolves. sacrifice for the sake of tradition is pointless and benefits no one. maybe he's been too long gone from the rules of Soul Society and biting his tongue every time that word was bandied around to excuse one unpleasant thing after another.]

[That was the thing in her life though, wasn't it?]

There are always wolves.

[But she can't bring herself to say anything else. This is hardly the place for a life story, for hearts to hearts, instead at first focusing on staunching the blood flow, gritting her teeth not in pain so much in concentration as she waited for the potion to seep into the hole, the liquid bubbling and steaming as the reaction took hold, groping about for one of the other potion bottles she'd set out earlier-

Only to find it had rolled a bit away from her in the chaos.]

- hand me that, please.

[She points with bloody fingers to the vial, filled halfway with a pinkish powder.]

[he lets her words hang there, attention turning to the wound- well, less the wound, rather than her iron resolve to put everything to rights by her own hand. only at her request does he tear his eyes away and grab the bottle for her.]

I've been thinking a lot about that heart problem you mentioned. [It's an segue that makes complete sense in his head- he hasn't really done extensive research, but on nights when he can't sleep and all other issues have hit the wall, he idly turns things over in his head.]

[A segue she's more than receptive to, far more eager to be distracted from the noise of gunfire than she ever could have anticipated. Sieglinde takes the vial and gently taps the mouth of the glass, sprinkling the powder onto the blood, wherever it came into contact the crimson stains began to recede, soaked up by the expanding powder crystals, made easier to brush away and reveal the chemically cauterizing hole through her foot.]

I have several theories at present I would appreciate a second set of eyes on. Blood samples, and a few diagrams-

[This was better. Talk about "science", about medicine and her projects and anything that wasn't her weakness, her injury she could barely even feel, her failure to rein in her fear of the sounds that were so like that night'a.]

Have you thought of something in particular?

Well... [he drawls it out, shifting, so he's in a position that's more comfortable.] The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. The heart as an organ has no real ties to a person's emotions, but after awhile I stopped trying to think of it so literally, and approached it from a different angle. The metaphorical "heart," specifically.

[he takes a moment, choosing his words carefully.] Where I'm from, human souls can be corrupted irreparably. The process is complicated, but the end result is that the human eventually loses all emotions except for whatever drives them until they lose their hearts entirely, turning them into mindless monsters.

Now that's a bit extreme for your friend, especially since it never happens to the Living, but there is a precedence here that might contribute to a solution.

[It's hard to follow things in the midst of this, despite how she wishes to focus on anything but the sounds and the shades of a life she'd been so successful in forgetting thus far. She'll want to revisit this later, when she's in her right mind, when she can process it and think it over, but right now she's going to have to just follow along.

Anything.]

My patient comes from a world in which many things occur more as if they were in a fairy tale than in "real life". Including the features of the "heart".

[Something she's learned to just accept. For now.

For now, she reached for her bandages, beginning to unwind a small length to begin wrapping it, pausing only to pull a dollop of salve out of a vial and smear it over the hole on either side before she continued to wrap.]

I am afraid souls are a bit outside of my realm of expertise... but my patient's body physically lacks a heart. I believe the curse used to remove it laid in place multiple spells to keep his blood pumping and body alive without it.

That's a lot of effort just to possess a heart.

[he glances behind him. The fighting is still going on and showing no sign of stopping anytime soon. He sighs, realizing that waiting it out may not be an option. He really didn't want to do this..]

I suppose we can get into all that more later. For now... Would you like to get to someplace safer?

In their world, to possess the heart was to command the man.

[And he was a capable sort of man- the sort you could make do all sorts of terrible things if you desired. Things she regretted for him, when she thought about it.

But it wasn't the time for that anymore than it was the time for any of this, and she looks up at Urahara meekly as she finishes bandaging the wound.]

... is there a safe way out?

That's so distasteful. [an understatement to be sure, but for all that he's a manipulator and conniver on his worst days, pure of intent he might be, he's always found free will to win out in the end. Never mind his own personal issues with control and not having it.

He can only really benefit from finding out more if he assists her, and so that is decided. It's not like he can't make himself somehow invaluable to her. He's managed to do it for centuries now- making his living being a necessity.]

Safer than the alternative. I can't promise it will be very fun for you. You don't get motion sickness do you?

[that's a little joke. But really he's never done a lot of transporting humans over long distances with flash step. At least not conscious ones. ]

Edited 2016-11-27 18:48 (UTC)

[It seems strange to her that he should ask her that, but then again, it wasn't as if it was the strangest thing she had ever been asked in this makeshift team.

Was it some kind of joke about carrying her at a fast pace?]

... I am most used to being carried.

[She had already mentioned that tradition, "unbinding"... she had spent most of her life in the crook of her manservant's elbow, in arms, or on a shoulder.

Surely she did not get motion sick.]

[he'll consider that his permission to scoop her up in his arms then. It would be more dignified riding piggyback, but he can't be certain she won't slip off.] This.... May be a bit different.

[the front door is facing the majority of the fighting, but Urahara would never take shelter somewhere unless he was aware of all entrances and exits. There's a back door facing an alley that leads directly out into the desert. In truth, that's why he chose this place. He wanted to be sure of a quick exit once he was finished observing.

He shoves the rotting door aside with his foot and peers out. The fighting seems to have moved away a bit, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's over. Carefully he steps out and faces the stretch of alley leading into an even longer stretch of desert.]

Please hold your breath, Sieglinde-san.

[he waits only a moment for her to comply before he takes a step forward...

And it feels like a sudden rush. Like someone taking ten steps when they should have taken one. There's a definite pressure that would make it difficult to breathe, but the motion itself is fluid. So fast that it only registers during brief stops before it starts again.

He's only taken about fifteen steps before he stops to rest. They're in the middle of the desert about halfway between Perdition's Rest and Boneyard Junction according to his calculations.

He makes a soft noise.] Are you all right so far?

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