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[ Quest ] Midnight Sun - Act II Scene I - Areder Mountains: The Strong Survive

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Murphy’s Law.

That’s what it was.


First it was the shaking—the violent shaking as they struck the glass. It wouldn’t permeate, though the sound was terrible as they careened with glass. Bird, bat, or something else. Did it matter when when died? Then the shuddering, the groaning and the explosion. There was the acrid stench of something burning. Suddenly people embraced and kissed the walls. Or the ceiling. Or the floor. They danced in the air with all manner of things spiraling out of control. The blaring sound of a warning, the infernal device screaming of the danger.

 At some point the ocean loomed below. And a seemingly endless span of green, giving way to the treacherous expanse of mountain range that neighbored the forest line.

That had been the intended destination. The stretch of beach, the forest with its cover. A trek to refuel and leave again.

But as the shuttle skid along the craggy surface, its nose dipping and tumbling its contents wantonly before skidding and teetering over a ridge, threatening to send the ship over. Everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. One reckless move and everyone would plunge to their deaths.

The universe was perverse if not cruel.


Murphy’s Law.

Yeah, that’s what it was...







Extract yourself from the ship and assess your damage.

Split into two groups to guard the Baroness and the ship from potential harm.

Group B will remain in this thread, Group A will see their thread when they are ready to disembark.

Your posting order is set. You have 72 hours to generate a post--big or small--before the order moves to the next user.

Good luck and don't die.



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Julia shoved the bench seat off of her chest and sat up, rubbing her head grumpily. Her normally unflappable composure seemed to have been temporarily flapped as she groped around for her hat. It was tough to concentrate on finding it, what with the trickle of blood in her eyes and the ringing in her ears and all.

Anyone expecting a laconic comment on their current predicament would be disappointed; all anyone could hear was her muttering in a sort of angry-woozy way while she fished around for her favorite accessory. “Yassin sassin snazzum frazzum stupid metal breakin’ flying contraption where the hell’s my galldang hat??”

Her hair hung in frazzled strands, her long braid completely untied revealing wild, untamable curls that threatened to electrocute the surviving crew members with the static electricity they were likely capable of generating. Without her perfectly constructed indomitable affectation, she looked surprisingly small and fragile.

Julia’s fumbling hand finally landed on the object of her obsessive search; the hat had been battered and dented, and looked much less imposing than it had a few minutes ago. She smashed it onto her head, where her unkempt hair caused it to tilt slightly and seem to float just above her scalp. Sadly, the hat was not helping her regain that air of nonchalant smugness.

“What in the living blazes of the nine hells just happened?” Her voice cracked just slightly, and she swooned as her vision fogged over for a second.

The silence that greeted her question was unnerving. Her hostage didn’t answer, and the others seemed equally unresponsive, or maybe they just hadn’t heard her through the warped compartment door. Julia took a deep, shaky breath, and tried her damndest to get her Boots persona up and functional without the benefit of a hairbrush or a shot of liquor. She carefully and slowly gained her feet; her legs were wobbly, but serviceable, and other than a minor head wound and maybe a concussion, she seemed to have escaped injury.

She checked on the girl she’d Shanghai’d, and was happy to note that she was still breathing. More survivors meant better chances in the wild; Boots hoped that it wasn’t just going to be the two of them bonding over the seasoned and bar-b-q’d remains of her ex-teammates during the cold mountain nights.

Boots stumbled to the door, and with a heave fueled by adrenaline, managed to force it open with an ear-splitting whine of metal scraping against metal. She smelled a little bit of smoke, and could hear the sound of electricity popping somewhere in the passageway.

She staggered into the corridor, bracing one of her arms against the bulkhead to keep from losing her balance, and called out into the still air, hoping to rouse any of her unit that were just dozing but still alive. “Pardners? Need a muster! Give a shout if ya can’t get yerself mobile!”

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"GET OFF OF ME!" Adel shrieked at no particular person, but rather a trunk that had landed on top of her. It was very clear she had made it out alive, and was not in any particularly pleasant mood. What had happened, that was the pertinent question of the moment! "I certainly hope, that after the money and time spent on this, that my prestigious staff did not recklessly crash us. I will be most unhappy if that be the cause. I will have heads!" All huff and puff, Adelaide hoisted herself to her feet, dusting her slacks off.

"The nerve...wasting money and resources..." She reached for a walkie talkie clipped to the back pocket of her pants, "Will someone please tell me what the Hell just happened? I want a damage report stat! And if anyone eve--" The shuttle lurched and shuddered with an a metallic moan, and Adel nearly hit the wall again, dropping the device, it slid and slid, vanishing below with clunks and clangs. The lighting was flickering overhead. Voices were stirring, a sudden realization that he ship was teetering, slipping downwards with another lurch. "Wait, WAIT--no one move until I say to!" There was a pause. A long one. Adel breathed, feeling the shuttle, recognizing the angle, the realization that any wrong move could send them to their death. It was an outrageous situation--simply outrageous!

"We need to get out of this ship. Right now. One at a time. Carefully--slowly, up the slope..."

Or they would all be dead.

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"We need to get out of this ship. Right now."

"What the fu-..."

Eros stirred at the shrill voice assaulting his ears, slightly opening his eyes before wincing at the sudden pain. He was aching everywhere. Taking a deep breath, he tried to register the situation around him.

He was laying on the floor of the shuttle. Exposed wires and twisted metal lay everywhere inside the metal tube. He tried to get up, wincing as he suddenly registered a dull ache coming from above his temple. He reached up towards the offending location, feeling his fingers slide over the slick sheen of blood coming from a cut where he had bumped himself against where he was sitting. He looked down to see a tear in the bandages wrapped taut around his forearms; red blossoming outwards from his minor injury.

Fucking glorious.

A loud groaning noise echoed through the entire cabin, followed by a slight shift downwards. His expression became stern at the sudden realization, his eyes squinting in careful concentration. Wariness in every single movement, he pawed around for his belongings. His spell book had detached from the back of his satchel with the impact of the crashed ship. His fingertips managed to touch the smooth leather, grabbing the binding firmly and applying it back to its position. Sparks of what seemed to be static electricity bridged the gap, sticking the book to its intended location. A quick once over registered that his knives were still hanging at his side, safely attached to his braided belt by the handle. A quick grope from the outside of his satchel showed that no tools had slipped out. Rope, wire, basic medical and alchemic supplies including potions, miscellaneous items.... Yeah he had everything.

He looked around at his "shipmates", attempting to find an easy solution through the hazy pain that was ongoing inside his skull. He lacked the energy or the time to cast Traveler's Phase, a teleportation spell, on himself let alone the rest of the individuals there.  They had to figure out something and quick lest they all plummet to their deaths. Taking a deep breath, he addressed the rest of the group. His voice came out smooth and calm much to his surprise.


"Alright.... So the shuttle's falling. Anybody got any ideas before I figure one out? I'd hate to find out whether I really can fly or not."

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She had a certain fondness for technology. It was even more magical than magic itself, a mysterious, curious thing so very foreign to what the elf had known during her younger years in the forest. It became a hobby, learning to tinker and figure out how these crazy complex machines ticked.

But, she hated this damn ship

Kelva was strapped into her seat with all the buckles and harnesses available, gripping at them and the sling for her rifle for dear life. This great iron beast she sat in unnerved the sniper to no end. The shaking of her seat, the roar of the engines, the passing wall of blue that tilted to and fro that could be seen out the window, it all tore at her sense of control and safety. She was trapped in a screaming metal cage plummeting across the sky at high speed and didn't like it one bit.

Then, her worst fears came to life

A deafening explosion. Everything lurched, steel groaned, and all of these imposing and important figures were strewn about like ragdolls, powerless to the might of inertia in an enclosed space. Kelva's entire body went completely rigid despite experience telling her to do the opposite. Her stomach flipped and bile threatened to stream from her throat. Something hard slammed into her face and was gone. Screeching, scratching steel brought the nightmare to a halt, finally, mercifully.


The eery calm immediately after the storm, pierced only by the blaring of an alarm that was so distant and muffled in Kelva's ears. Shaking hands picked at the buckles and latches without a trace of composure. Her old lungs hacked at the smoke filling them even as her mind finally fought for clarity. An attack? If this was an ambush they'd be set upon any moment. She had to move, had to make the first response. Had to get eyes and ears on the big picture.

Aged bones carried her lithe frame through the haze. Her hearing was fuzzy, like everything was at the end of a long tunnel. Every step felt like it was tilting her side to side. The one she didn't like, the one with the strange hat, opened the door leading towards the exit. Kelva brushed past her, leaning against the wall for a sense of balance. Her weapon was still slung on her shoulder, the only sense of relief in the world right now. Her down cast eyes noticed the dripping blood before her nerves did. She was injured somewhere, but she couldn't feel it yet. She slammed her adrenaline numbed palm against the panel at the end of the corridor, and her choking mouth was met with ashen wind.

Rather than deploy the ramp, which there was no time for, Kelva hopped down the five feet between herself and the uneven mountain top. Immediately, she moved, quickly regaining her center and hearing as she moved away from the craft and swept her sharp eye across the immediate area. Nothing but crags and rock could be seen, and smoke billowed up from unseen vents along the mountain side. Their ship teetered at the pinnacle of what seemed to be a volcanic ridge, five men abreast at its widest, three at its most narrow. How in Gaia's grace they had managed to land like this and not simply tumble down one side to their deaths was a mystery. She tried to pass this information along through her ear piece, but it was dead. For now, she climbed the ridge, running as fast as she could along the unsure footing without risking her life. Aftering rising about 10 feet above where the ship sat below, she turned around and lifted her eye patch.

The eye of velka saw all. The mustering bodies within the ship, the craft tilting back and forth, and everything beyond. No enemies. That, at least, they were blessed with. She felt the blood trickle into her cursed eye and realized her injury must be on her head. Lovely. Probably from whatever collided with her during the crash. She wiped the blood away and put her patch back down to keep the thing from draining her. Perimeter secured, surroundings scouted, situation understood. She returned to the ship and pressed the button that was supposed to deploy the ramp. Nothing happened. 

"hmph" she grunted, and moved off to the side. The shuttle had an emergency ladder, which she pulled down and climbed up. "We're on a ridge, teeterin'. Hurry up, get out. Perimeter is secure, focus on gettin' this pile o' junk steady." she yelled down the corridor. Her voice was easy to hear, as the alarms had gone silent. But, so too had the lights. All tech was knocked out, it seemed. Whether it was temporary or permanent remained to be seen.

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Her glamour flickered out of existence, leaving only the unveiled, humanoid body of water in its place. She splashed around, contorting and manipulating her suddenly broken figure as the ship was tossed about and careened. It was only when it was still could she muster to pull herself together again--and this left her in the foulest of moods. There were shouts, headcounts cropping up as the crew took stock of who was conscious. Someone was already outside, confirming the perimeter was secure. Corvus scowled before her body stretched impossibly thin and ascended into the air, a coil of water racing up and along the ship before snaking its way outside and pooling.

Corvus felt sweltering heat, and for a moment a prickle of concern touched her. This body would prove to be difficult if it could not maintain form if the heat continued to rise. Her features contorted into a permanent scowl, glancing back at the ship, "The Artificer is no good to us dead. If she dies, so too does the Baroness. Get them out!" It was not that the crew was unimportant, but their prize--and by and large the biggest reason the ship was teetering, lay with the Dyson Sphere itself, nestled in the belly of the ship. Corvus had no access to Raven's magic, or she simply would have ported them all out.

Instead the Psion stepped back, thrusting her will power to encroach with the fallen shuttle. It was too large for she, as a single person, to move easily. The ground shuddered, as the ship itself vibrated, and slowly, an inch by inch, Corvus psychokinetically tugged the ship to more stable ground. It was a painstaking process, as the sound of metal groaned and sliced into the earth, jarring and shaking its contents all over again. Every inch was a lurch. There would be a long pause(as maneuvering such a large ship was no easy feat even for her) before it would start all over again. The screech of metal on stone was piercing at moments, and it wasn't until the ship hit the ground properly that Corvus sat hard on the ground, panting.

Her features teemed with condensation, though it looked more like sweat to those who saw her. It could not be said that she did not value--to some degree--the lives trapped inside.

@Red the Ambivalent


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There was little to no perception of time, from the moment she watched Adelaide place her palm onto her mobile prison, activating a feature that cast her into a soundless, sightless void. For a time Red had paced within a small little circle, keeping to what was mostly flat- or rather not too curved. This had clearly done her no good as she was left to her own solemn thoughts and worries, so eventually she had decided to sit. The psion spoke to herself, cursing the whole situation aloud and damning every soul that had rose against the Keep and herself. This, again, had done nothing for her. So she sat in pure silence, cross legged and tenderly touching the slowly swelling arm that was broken. It had been a clean break, Corvus wasn't so clumsy as to break it and leave it useless. Red had the pain to focus on, so that was what she did.

It began to simmer a rage deep within her stomach, a rage that could have nearly been tangible considering how every other sense was null within the sphere. That rage was soon off-set by this new, odd emotion, the remembrance of the man she had tried to forget. Slash. Red was in tears for part of the trip, however long that may have been. She missed him so much it hurt, her heart felt as if someone had plunged a serrated knife deep into the pumping muscle and then twisted it harshly. For this amount of time the psion had found herself lying on her side, cradling her arm in a fetal position, a salty pool of tears forming beneath her flushed cheeks. It was so terrible she revisited the notion that she wanted to die, but of course she had no means to kill herself, not to mention she didn't have the nerves to either.

The position she was laying in had proven to be decently devised, if by total accident as the air-ship met it's timely demise. Even being a sensory deprivation chamber, without hearing the horrid sound of screeching metals and explosions, without being able to hear the screams and pain outside, Red was tossed around like a rag doll. It didn't rid of gravity, and while the ship lurched and crashed, Red found this out the hard way. She screamed suddenly as in one moment she was sobbing into a pool of her own self pity, and the next she was suddenly airborne, colliding with the curved interior of the prison and then continuously thrown around for way too long to feel comfortable about.

When the ship finally came to a teetering halt, the woman was laying on her back, sprawled out and staring up at an abyss of absolutely nothing. Everything started to slowly ache, what she figured would be nice sized bruises pained her with dull throbs, and she was pretty sure the broken bone in her arm had rattled separate from the set she had done prior. This hurt the most, and left her groaning and breathing heavily.

"Why...Why Gods? It wasn't enough to break my arm and make me a captive, but throwing me around in this shithole?"

She complained rather loudly, finding mild humor in her complaints. There was a distinct possibility that she was already going crazy, or it very well could have been the residual crazy that she ended up suffering from now and again. She blamed the Dyson Sphere, it was driving her insane being unable to hear or see a thing. For all she knew a meteor had just struck the airship out of the sky, and she was actually dead.

"I better be dead."

Grumbling, Red didn't bother to move. Eventually she was sure her captors would come running to see if she was alive or not- and if they didn't she was completely okay with starving to death.

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