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 Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 12:37 pm
Not a WitchThackery (nothing yet) Ash (ILU 5 EVR/astra) Aymet (iizbot/imp/tig) TRIALS OF DEATH: CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:IF YOU ARE TRAPPED IN THE ROOM, REGARDLESS OF WHAT CHOICE YOU SAY (A, B OR C) IF YOU ARE TRAPPED, REGARDLESS OF WHAT CHOICE YOU SAYThe figure in white seems unamused by whatever you have to say, simply sighing and tapping his pen against his clipboard. "Yeah, thought so. I guess we'll have to do this the fun way." He gestures for another two figures, they look up into your cage and- - You hear a hissing noise in your cage, manage to struggle, stay awake for a second longer before you black out. OOC: SELECTING A GROUP MEMBER - EVERYONE in the group must NOW roll a 100-sided dice at this point and RP out the above (all active members, if you have an inactive member, you can just skip to). The person with the LOWEST roll must RP out the prompt below titled "WEAPONS CONVERSION". Everyone else rps out the regular prompt titled "TRAPPED". Even if the WEAPONS CONVERSION player posts their prompt later, it is assumed that ICly the "weapons conversion" post happened first and then the "trapped" one. - You are rping reactions for one OR the other, depending what you roll. Rp reactions don't need to be posted chronologically. (That way you don't need to wait for them if you have different time zones). - If you have been rolled for weapons conversion your CHARACTER IS "DEAD". That means you can no longer rp them sorry sad Consider this their death post, and write out reactions as necessary: solid death posts will be given bonus trial points! - PLEASE NOW MARK YOUR THREAD AS [CAPTURED] instead of OPEN or CLOSED WEAPONS CONVERSION PROMPT When you wake up, you are staring out of a large, cylindrical cage. You press your hand against it, but the walls hurt as if charged by electricity. You recoil to the very center of the cylinder: the light hurts your eyes. You can hear someone vaguely talking outside, you can see shapes, boxes outside, transparent boxes with your team members in there. There is a loud crackle, a synthetic humming noise, and as you look up- - Pain. Agony that jolts into you, thousands of times worse than being simply electrocuted, worse than when you were forced to dissipate, you might have screamed, you might have thrashed, it is hard to tell at this point, all you can feel is the pain- And then you feel something in you snap, shift, and your Fear, as finally, your form involuntarily begins to warp, distort as well. It hurts, the pain still hurts, it is blinding, but as your body fights to re-stabilize itself, you feel better, whole, complete again. Your vision clears again, just for a little bit - you see figures in strange plastic boxes outside, -who are they, they look familiar - but it doesn't matter anymore. Something clicks in you, like a switch turning on, there is no more pain, panic, hatred, the memories washed out, lackluster. No, in your world of darkness, emptiness, there is only a slowly gnawing hunger, quiet and insatiable. TRAPPED When you wake up you realize you are trapped in a transparent box - a cage. You see the others all around you, but one of your group members is missing. No, instead, they are huddled in a cylindrical glass cage, a rather large one who's height spans the entire room. They look scared, they look out towards you. You want to say something, maybe that everything will be okay, but you can't. You know it's not true. You know they can't even hear you. The person is talking now, the figure in the white cloak. They threaten you, saying one of you is next if you don't tell them the truth. If you don't speak the truth, you will be next. And finally, they make you watch, they make you watch as your teammate screams, thrashes around in the cylinder helplessly, and then is consumed completely. A dull weapon lies where your teammate was. The figure picks up the weapon, and talks to you again. He wants to know the truth, of who you are and where you come from. You turn to your remaining group members for support.
a) You finally tell him exactly what happened from the trials to where you are nowb) You tell then nothing. If you go down, you will go down fighting. We've selected option A.
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 1:39 pm
Ash looks around, eyes scanning the ground within his field of vision.
There was ...
Where was everything?
He pursed his lips under his helm, blinking away his confusion as the world flashed to grey, just for a brief moment.
He dragged the Great Knife behind him, stopping just short of the duo.
"Who are you?" The reaper gestured with his weapon. "What is going on?" There was panic creeping into his voice, throat constricting.
Ash hated being confused.
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 2:00 pm
The Trial of War had been exhausting, constituting over half of all of the times that he'd woken up in the infirmary, compressed into the span of just a short few days. The Cerberus had crawled into bed the night before with aching limbs and the slightest of headaches, hoping to get a good, full night of rest.
He was sure that the loud, shuddering thumps were part of some terrible dream about the upcoming trial...but it was still there when he sat up in-
In nothing. What? Startled, he scrambled to his feet, frantically searching for something that made sense. Instead, he found two strangers, and his boilfriend approaching them with questions. He stared on, eyes wide, before finally mustering up the courage to move towards them.
"Ash," he called, voice wavering.
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 2:05 pm
Aymet woke up to a lot of yelling. He pause to consider the fact that he woke up. Undead didn't sleep. He didn't sleep. Also he didn't sleep outside.
Weird.
"Thackery, what is he doing?" He plodded over to the source of the confusion and noise, Ash yelling at a couple of beings a ways away. None of this seemed to faze him any more than shrinking to defend the sandcastle. The fog was a little worrying, but... Amityville wasn't dangerous. Wherever it was...
"What, uh.... what's that?" He nodded toward the drill.
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 5:39 pm
As the 'Halloweeners' raised their weapons, Thackery's ears went backward. He recognized those. His hands balled into fists that were ultimately useless as he went tumbling back to the ground, easily trapped by the net. He opened his mouth to warn Ash and Aymet to run or fight them off or do anything that he wasn't able to, but everything faded before even one syllable came out.
His head was throbbing by the time he woke up again, and he rubbed at his temple in irritation, trying to blink away the brightness of the lights and the white...well, everything. Even their coats were - oh. Oh, this was a dilemma.
Panicked, he looked for someone that would surely be able to help. She would help, wouldn't she? That was the promise? When she wasn't there, his heart sank, and he reached for Ash's hand.
"Refugee Base? Listen, uh," he cleared his throat and forced himself to sit up straight, trying to brave it out. "Can you give us a little bit of context? We wouldn't wanna confuse you." Being a hunter already seemed kind of confusing. They were always doing stuff that didn't make any sense.
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 3:30 am
Ash glared at the hunters, clenching his fists as Thackery answered them. He had blacked out after the net had snared him, dragging him down and into the abyss.
For a moment he was silent, head tilting, helm removed. His gray insanity patches were showing, clear against his pale skin.
"We wish to go home," is all he says with resolute determination, struggling in his nets, lashing out. "HOME."
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 9:28 pm
Everything happened too fast for the undead to process. The sterile white environment they were now in was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. And the men outside were equally unfamiliar. He couldn't come to grips with what they were even being asked about, sitting dumbfounded as he tried to mentally count his bones. No harm done, yet, aside form getting knocked out.
"What-" Aymet tried to find his voice again. "What is this place? Where are we?"
And then he saw the weapon, and all those horrible things Riley had tried to warn him about suddenly clicked.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 4:43 am
Ashford sighs, the sound heavy and leaden in his chest.
He lays a hand against the clear surface trapping him, his helm abandoned on the ground.
Slowly, the reaper reaches out to Thackery, but is blocked by the cage. Instead, he splays his hand against it, eyes flicking between your boil, your precious boil, and poor, poor Aylet.
He wants to tuck Thackery's face into his chest, and his heart aches.
It aches, because Aymet is terrified and alone and the strange reaper who was not a reaper, the hunter who had taken them--
was turning Aymet into something...
Unfortunate.
"I will speak," Ash rasps, slamming his fist on the glass. Again and again and again you bang against it, lips curled.
"I will tell you everything. Do not harm the other."
"Please," his voice is broken, and weaves the tale of the trials and the adventure in absolute honesty.
Ash does not think he can bear seeing Thackery reduced to an object. It will physically pain him more than anything.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 3:55 pm
It wasn't too long ago that Thackery was attending his classes - one of which centered around the scaring of humans. Trapped n their cages, crying, soiling themselves, they seemed so selfish, too fearful, not brave enough. Sobbing and pleading for their own lives, they infuriated him past a breaking point, thrusting him into a frame of mind that he'd never experienced before.
But at the end of the day, when the humans weren't 'real,' all that was left was the reminder of his own lack of control, and how memory of the undignified portrayal of humans that were not worth the fleshy packages that they came in.
The steady tap, tap, tap of the pen against board slowed, a constant ticking like a clock, a snide reflection of reality. There was no time left to change their minds now. The hissing stung at his ears and his eyes and he hoped that he might be able to draw their attention, tapping feebly against his container...but his own body failed him, submitting to their control, slumping into a crumpled form. Even more weak than the false humans he'd detested.
He awoke in his own cage, far more practical than rickety metal on wheels. The human was on the other side this time, and it was all very, very authentic if these were just doppelgangers again. But he knew they weren't. He knew these were the nightmares that were inevitable, the bleak fates that he'd hoped he might prevent with his protection of Reine. All of the things that he thought he understood about the hunters dissipated as surely as he would.
His foggy gaze searched the cages around him, his throbbing headache pulsing all the way to his fingertips. There was Ash, reaching out to him, separated by only the infuriating solidity of the transparent cage. A low growl rolled from the depths of his throat and he pressed his palm against the transparent barrier, leaning into it with all of his weight.
Nothing happened. He was no closer to Ash. He reeled backward to throw himself against the cage again, falling sort when something from his peripheral caught his attention.
Aymet. Confined in some tube was Aymet. The dracolich that had taken them to flight during Christmastival seemed so strange there, so inherently wrong. How did you contain something like that in a..
...in a...
Time passed. Thackery knew that time was passing because things were happening, but he was certain that he'd stopped everything. Stopped breathing, stopped moving. He couldn't fathom what he was seeing - it was so much worse than the nets, so much worse than the daggers and the rotting holes that they left in their wake. There was a single beat of hopeful silence, the slightest moment, and Aymet wasn't there anymore.
How did you contain a friend in a weapon?
His disbelieving gaze moved from Aymet - was it Aymet anymore? - to Ash. Eyes wide, he opened his mouth to tell him something. To tell him anything that would make things better. But he just stared, dumbfounded, focusing only on forcing the thoughts of that happening to Ash out of his head.
He pawed at the side of his cage nearest Ash, expression that of a pound-caught puppy that knew his time was up, before turning to face the hunters in white. He frowned, eyes darkening, lashing out when he couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Do you know who I am?" he snarled, nails digging at the plexiglass. "I'm a Son of Cerberus! Guardian of the Underworld! It will be me that all of you will face when you die. I'll be the one who decides...who decides..."
The noise that came from the boil walked a fine line between hysteric laughter and angry sobbing, but he continued on.
"You took us from the Trials of the Horsemen that we would have won. With all of your...pens and..." oh Jack why was his brain picking now to fail him, "...research, I'm sure you understand what that means. We're stronger than you. We can eat you while you sleep. You're humans, and you'll die. But we'll be here, we'll be after you forever, because we are Halloween, and we'll never die."
The fury that flashed behind his eyes was definitively un-Thackerylike, but it remained. He stared from one hunter to the next, unblinking, ensuring that they knew that he meant his words. They would get out of here. They would fix Aymet. They would cage the hunters and ask their own questions.
And when the Trial of Death finally came, they would fight through it - because they'd made it to 'Deus Ex' and back, and there was little else that could hold them.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 4:32 pm
They take them, and they turn them into weapons - cold, hard metal instead of formed creatures like we are now.
Hunters, he realized too late. The hunters he'd been warned about. No other weapon could be so ominous a threat.
"Thackery! Ash!" His voice stayed trapped in the bright white coffin with him. There was nothing to say, really, even if he could have. They couldn't help, and they couldn't escape. Yet?
It was when his claws scraped against the cage and hurt that Aymet realized this was not a test. He reeled back, confused. He didn't feel pain, not how most others did. Aymet was undead. Pain for Aymet was when he lost the use of his skeleton. Fire burned away the magic that held him together. And dissipation happened when there was nothing left of him to hold together. But he always came back. And he never felt what he lost.
Any hope that this was just another test died in him. The fight was real. And they had lost so quickly, so easily. The sandcastles and the obstacle courses, jousting on corgis, fighting minipets, everything Amityville was supposed to teach him had been just a game. None of it would unlock this cage and set him free. None of it would spare him from the fate he could already begin to guess at.
Should you ever see a hunter, you will see in their hands a weapon -
The white coats were between him and the team. He could see their mouths moving, muffled sound he couldn't decipher. One of the men half-turned toward the cylinder, their eyes meeting Aymet's expressionless skull. Above the dracolich there was a mechanical hum, a crackle.
- and know, as you look upon it, that the weapon was once just like you or I.
The cylinder went white.
In the midst of the pain, slamming himself against the walls that only pushed him away, there was a hairline crack. His phylactery began to crack. Blue fire leaked out like blood and hung in the air. Twisted, all the way to its core. The bones, the body, everything else was shed like so much extra weight. It fell away and became nothing. Had been nothing. He was an object. Inanimate. He'd been dead a long time ago. He'd been... he was...
It was only for a half a second that he was suspended there, could see outside once more. White and boxes and shapes. Things that it wanted to remember. Emotions that were purged as soon as they were triggered, cast away like the bones. The energy ran a single claw down the glassy window. Solidified. And fell, sightless.
A dagger fell to the bottom of the cage, inscribed with three blue runes that pulsed faintly like a beating heart or a flickering flame. It waited in the darkness, and it was hungry.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 4:47 pm
The figure in the white cloak sighs and takes out an extremely plain looking eyephone, "Sir I need you down in section C." They pocketed the phone with a sigh and a slightly worried look. Moments later another a tall blonde man in a three pieces suit walked in, causing the first to stand straighter and carefully move out of the man's immediate line of sight. Glancing at the captive, the new arrival frowned, "We don't need them, trainee. We have enough specimens and weapons for the time being." "But sir, they..." The man in the suit had already summoned his guns. The OOC Roll 1 d100 1-25: The door to your cage opens and several shots ring out. Your death is quick and painless. 26-50: The door to your cage opens and a shot rings out, destroying one of your legs. The man in the suit gives the trainee an expectant look, "Well, do whatever you need to do with it." The trainee stutters for several moments until another shot is fired. Your death is slightly less quick and painless. 51-75: The door to your cage opens and a shot rings out, destroying one of your legs. The man in the suit gives the trainee an expectant look, "Well, do whatever you need to do with it." The trainee nods and reaches for several pieces of equipment. The blonde man checks his watch and another shot is fired. Your death is painful and much less quick than the man in the suit would have preferred. 76-100: The door to your cage opens and the trainee quickly approaches you, nervously looking back at the man in the suit. Their distraction give you the opportunity to shove past them and escape. Several shots ring out. Your death is quick and painless.
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Nothing Yet rolled 1 100-sided dice:
72
Total: 72 (1-100)
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 4:55 pm
In spite of his most ferocious attempts at intimidating the hunters on the other side of his cage, they seemed largely unimpressed. If they even heard him, they gave absolutely no indication, favoring their eyephones and instructions and the attention of a tall, well-dressed human man. They didn't even dignify his efforts with the slightest of glances - no mocking, no retort, no wry smiles. Just business as per usual, among insignificant specimens. Thackery pressed himself towards them, watching their brief discussion through the fog that his infuriated, sharp exhales left on the plexiglass.
The faint rumble of his growls continued on as they exchanged words, the sound just curling around the confines of his container, padding the air around a volatile Cerberus with a warning that fell faintly on uncaring ears.
When one finally looked in his direction, he began to feel the slightest vibration of adrenaline, urging him to scrape at the glass, to fight, to try again. They would win this. The hunters were only human. They could be scared just like the rest of them - he just had to try harder.
His bare soles slid uselessly against the cage floor, and he fell to his hands and knees, shoulders hunched up around his face. There was not even a flinch from the trainee that approached him...but Thackery was sure that he saw him begin to shudder. He saw his steps falter, that desire to retreat. He saw his warnings begin to sink in, the consideration of how unsettling it might be to meet such a powerful creature at the Gates.
He smiled.
The barrier between them slipped away, and he lunged forward, arms outstretched, tumbling from his cell. Lacking a limb, he landed at the trainee's feet, staring up at him with some mix of horror and hurt and untimely humor.
It was all unimaginable. The pain was worse than the dissipation-inducing shocks from the nets. Worse than being eaten alive by toothy fish. Worse than a thousand heartbreaks. Darkness seeped through the corners of his vision, threatening to blind him from the pain, as bile rose and sat in his throat. As a starry-eyed puppy that dreamt of a school that could lead him to greatness, this was not how he'd imagined it might go. Without his brothers. Without a fight. They would never pass his story down from generation to generation, proud of the child that restored their tarnished lineage. They would forget him, the weak, unnecessary runt that dragged them down to shame once more.
With arms that felt alien, he dragged himself towards the nearest hunter, hoping to sink his (depressingly ineffective humanoid) teeth into the flesh of his leg. All he caught was the fabric of his pants, and even that was snatched away from him with the quick click of his teeth connecting.
Another cage opened. He was dimly aware that this one might belong to Ash, that he might be able to overpower them and escape. From the sound of a nearby scuffle, it seemed that he'd tried to do just that - but more shots rang out, impossibly loud, thrumming through his rapidly-numbing body. The sound of the only being who had ever been more close than his own brothers colliding with the floor next to him was indescribably void of everything he'd had in life. Stature. Sophistication. Adoration.
He opened his mouth for a goodbye, but only froth and FEAR-tainted remnants came forth.
Shuddering fingers reached for him, needing to hold onto something that felt real. Something he'd known was real - afternoons daydreaming of the first boil who'd truly intimidated him in an unfamiliar way, from nights spent cuddled up in the reaper's dorm, from early morning hours spent reassuring the both of them that the thoughts of 'home' wouldn't take their toll. Kisses and tears and words and touches that didn't need them.
He wasn't even strong enough to speak the name of who mattered most.
He didn't deserve to exist.
The burst of darkness that embraced him came with laughter and went with predictable silence. Nothing special. The weak all died the same.
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its me debz rolled 1 100-sided dice:
100
Total: 100 (1-100)
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2012 4:59 pm
Quote: 76-100: The door to your cage opens and the trainee quickly approaches you, nervously looking back at the man in the suit. Their distraction give you the opportunity to shove past them and escape. Several shots ring out. Your death is quick and painless. Ash peered at the man in the suit, taking his chance to push down the weak little humans, running past them-- get to Thackery, get to HOME-- Bang. Bang. Bang. It was a quick death, really. Rivulets of blood ran down the holes in his chest, the cry in his chest caught in his lungs. His rickety breaths felt sticky, as though they were clinging to his organs even as he struggled to inhale one last time. Much like a giant being felled by a mortal, the larger they are, the harder they fall. He watched his loved boil dissipate into darkness, and succumbed to it as well. It was a quiet death. There were no cries, no whimpering, no last whispers of love or regret. Absolutely ordinary, really. What a shame.
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