oasismods | JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

"-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾ȩ̨̬̙͛̐̋̀̕͜m̻̬͈̠͒̌͌̍͌͜ ̡̲͈̙̼̽̾͆̊̃f̖̟͉̲̪̈́̾̀̂̀ą̢̯̘̙́̇͑̈̋i̪̱̙̘̟͌́̄̊͘ļ̢̛̲͕̣͐̎̿͛u͕̣̥̘̳̓̃͗͠͝r͉̠̗͖̰̉̅͗̚͘ę̛̺̥̝̘̄͑̌̈́.̣̫͕̰̭̓͂̈́̓͊ ̟̗͔̟͋̿̒̚̚ͅA̠̫̬̼̣̒̇͛́̊l̫̬͎̤͈͑̀͂̐̆ë̡̧̝̺͖́̍̂͂͝r͙͍̱̫͕̆͊̾͐̕ţ͙̻̣̝͒́̄̈́͆!͕̫͓͉̹̌̍̽̂̓ ̧̛̲͎͖̳̌̆̾̏░͖̲̞̼̹̇̄̌̈́̊░̡͍͎͍̘̇̈́̕͝░̪͚̼̦̃̋͊̆͜͠è̛̞̬͙̠̖̊͌̂m͖̝̟̗̣̽̄̐̚͠ ̛̹̯͈̮̼̈́͊͌͠f̧̰̖͋̊̈̊̑͜͜ą̨͚͎̹̀̎̑͋́i̞̬͓̭̳̎́̓͘͠l̢͈̲͇͕̈́̆̐̌̈́ư̰̞͚̻̺̔͑̓̑ṛ͎̯͚̇̔̾̔̏͜ę̛̻̼̭͊͆̕͜͝.̯̖̫̣͔̔̋̔̽͠ ̺̼̟̲͌́͒̔̅ͅĄ̹̝̖̺̂̇̽̒͊ĺ̛̺̰̰̤͎̾͗͝e̛̗̭̻͕̹̓̔͆̆r̢̛͙͖̘̻̈̚̚͘t̰̲̠̖̻̉͂̆̓̇!̬̞̟͉̺̂͆̊͑͐"

You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything...

You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash.

You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable.

Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go.

"W̞͓̝͓̓̀̍̒͘͜ȃ̢̗̪̤͇̔̃̚͝░̟͙̯̳̱̈͂̈́̈́͠n̬̘̬̤̠͛̅̈́͋͝i͓̟͈͎͙̐̆̈́̔̓n̡̟̤̟̤̑͐͋͐̚g̩̱͖͉̻͌͛̈͆̈́!̧̪̰͇̦̓̂̆̌͝ ̢͔̣̠̗̾̉́̌̒C̢̥̟͍͊͊͑̀̚ͅr̛͙̪̙̟͐̽̓̅͜i̫͖̻̣̘̽̑͂̾̎t̩͇̦̬̞͊̌̑̈́͝i̡̳̠̞̐̿̍̎̀͜c̡͕͙͕͕̓̊̌̾͘å̼̯͍̙̲̍̏̚͝l̢̥͉̮̙̋̆͐̆́ ̢̰̞͕̯̋̈́̈́̋͌f͇͔̟̻̈̽͌̒̉ͅa̳̰̠͉͔͒̑̈̈͘i̟̭̦̺͎̍̾̽̈́̐░͕̣̥̭͛̿̓̽̐ͅ░̰̪̠͇͍̆͛̀͝͝░̘̱̩̳̘͆̈́̆̀̚e̛̻͈̳̳̺̊̔̚̕.͙̟̳̼̾̀̅͊͊ͅ"

With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry.

[MOD NOTES: TDM threads may be used as game canon.]

Threaded | Flat

Feel free to ask 'em here.

[ Whiplash is definitely something Newt wasn't expecting when he opened his eyes, but there it was, his neck sore, head hurting, back in just as much agony. It takes him a moment to blink away the confusion from dark eyes as he looks down at the crisscross seatbelt that has him hooked in securely. The agitating sounds of alarms going off are ignored from the time being as anxious dark eyes travel around the room. Last he remembers he was planning to help Tommy murder the woman who stole Minho from them.

This isn't a good sign, waking up in a strange place and not having any memory of getting there...

Fingers hover over the press in to release the belt from around him. There are others in here, he can see them, hear them groaning and breathing. Finally he presses the red button in that releases him from his confines, seemingly able to breathe now.

What the bloody hell is going on?

His foot thumps against a backpack under his seat, and he takes a moment to haul it up into his lap, barely able to unwedge it. It takes him a moment to actually get his legs working but he stands, pulling the backpack onto his back. Getting out of that noisy place was his first priority, he needs to think. Yeah, that'll go great after he trips over the person sitting next to him's legs. ]

Shit. Sorry.

He'd managed to grab the bag, but he hadn't managed to brace himself for what came next. Hell, to say he'd tensed up the second the dark came, would be an understatement. While he'd never been an outright coward, there were some unfamiliar situations that had him briefly scrambling for the solution to them.

And that definitely wasn't enough to stop him from moving forward...

With a firming expression, he ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. He ignored the way his knees felt the tiniest bit unsteady. It was all just a dream or something, right? Heh... As if. It felt too real to be a damn dream. Either way, he wasn't ready to give up anytime soon! He'd keep going, and he'd fight his way through all of it, no matter what it took.

So, he could be found making his way through the ship, doing everything to find some kind of weapon.

Edited 2016-01-28 04:28 (UTC)

Waking Up
Daryl was pretty disorientated when he came to. Being strapped into something as high tech as he was shouldn't have been possible. Not with the world the way it was. He unbuckled himself and slid out of the seat, landing hard against the floor before sliding the two feet across the isle into the body opposite him. The occupant was dead and no someone he recognized. Hell, nothing he saw was anything he recognized beyond the clothes on his back.

The dead body he was leaning against wasn't moving or trying to grab him, so unless it's brain stem got severed in the crash, because this was definitely a crash of some sort, it was recently dead enough not to reanimate. Yet. Daryl wasn't going to chance it and patted himself down for his knife.

Which was missing.

"Shit," he muttered and lunged across the space back to the seat he'd been in. The footing wasn't good, the transport he was in sitting too much at an angle to stay upright without effort. But the belts used to strap him in could also be used to brace him while he took a look around. It didn't take long to figure out there were backpacks under the seats with some very basic supplies. So the transport was probably a military one. Only question was, how in the hell had he gotten on it and who were the others he'd been traveling with?

At the sound of another person coming to, Daryl jerked his head around to watch them carefully.

Welcome to the Jungle
He'd grabbed three backpacks from beneath the seats of the dead and used a broken off piece of metal bracing that had twisted out of place to stab each one of those bodies through the eye. They hadn't yet gotten to the point of walking again, but he wasn't taking any chances. There were more backpacks under the seats. Just that Daryl couldn't carry that much alone and the angle of the ship was one he didn't want to fight with. And, well, there were other people in there, too.

Some of them had woken with him. Some would wake up soon enough. And they'd wake up outside the ship because he'd unbuckled all the wounded and living he could that were still out of it and brought them out. Laid them out as comfortably as he could while he started going through the supplies he'd grabbed for himself. They could scavenge their own.

But since they were the only people around that he could see, he'd wait until they woke up before he went exploring any further. Maybe they knew what was going on.

There was a familiar comfort in the darkness. Not from what her father had taught her, but thanks to her travels over the past year. Despite everything that had happened to him, Yuri didn’t abuse the power of darkness. He had protected her, many times over, and proved to everyone that there was more to him than the brash exterior he constantly showed. Proved that evil wasn’t as black and white as she once thought, when she lacked more perspective of the world.

Bless his heart, that brave soul. Her heart briefly clenched, almost as tightly as she clutched her bible to her chest. Alice had tried to make her way to the pilot and heal him, but it was too late. She prayed for his safe return to God, and anyone else that might have been aboard the aircraft. Just in case there were any survivors, she began to search through the ship, accompanied only by the sound of her soft breaths.

Quite honestly, Mikaela is most likely the first person off the ship and out into the sun. He would much rather deal with the grueling sun than stay one minute with bleeding humans. Since he's one of the first people off the ship, it means he's also one of the first to reach the crumbling wall.

It isn't all that different from what he's used to back in his own world although the jungle scenery is new. The one backpack Mika did manage to grab before abandoning the ship and all of its passengers is lifted to one shoulder. He doesn't look back at the ship or the people either pouring out of it or still inside.

Clearly Mika does not care about the others who were in the crash and fully intended to continue on by himself. Which is exactly what he was going to do until the presence of someone else disrupted that plan.

Whoever it is will have one blond, blue-eyed, serious-looking teenager staring at them and not saying a word.

[ It takes a little while for the world to come into focus, longer still for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, and perhaps even more startling than the wreckage is the fact that she has no idea how she got there. She doesn’t remember hopping on a shuttle off Pandora to… wherever this place is. Logically, she knows that the crash could have rattled her brain enough to give her mild amnesia, but she still finds that gap in her memory disconcerting. What she does remember is that this is the second time she’s come to after whatever transport she’d been on has crashed or blown up or been otherwise destroyed. Twice was enough to start constituting a trend, right? And it’s a trend she would rather not see continue.

As it is, she’s battered, bruised and her neck aches something awful. A healing hypo would be more than welcome right now, but she doesn’t spot any immediately in the debris, and she’s never been able to use her own healing abilities on herself. Figures.

Maya works her safety harness off, fumbling in the low light, when the lights go out altogether. Figures.

She’s able to get the damnable thing off and wriggle out of her seat, pointedly ignoring her various aches and pains as she does. She brings a hand up, and the blue tattoos that snake down the length of her left arm, from shoulder to fingertips, begin to glow bright cyan. The Siren conjures an orb of blue-purple light in her palm, illuminating what’s left of the ship’s interior as she takes mental stock of herself. No digistruct device. No weapons. But her powers seem to be fine. Better than nothing, she decides, and takes a better look around. Her eyes land first on the backpack beneath her seat, and no Vault Hunter worth their salt can resist loot of any kind, even a battered backpack. Maya tugs it free and slings it over her shoulder.

Only then does she turn to her fellow survivors, holding her hand up higher to offer them light if they need it. ]

Are you okay? Let me help you with that.

[ Gamora wasn't one to hang around, definitely not at a crash site. The drop ship isn't from any known origin she can ID, nor are their surroundings. That much, okay, she can deal with that, to be entirely honest. The part that frustrates her to no end? Someone took her weapons. Someone who wasn't going to be long for this world as soon as she figured out who, but that's neither here nor there. Instead, she's focusing on re-arming.

While others dally around, groggy and shaken from their sudden and unanticipated arrival, she's gone ahead and thrown out the bags of supplies, out into one big pile. There, outside, she makes quick work of searching each and every one. She's already recovered two knives, already tucked away in her own belt. One hammer, too, although that's been set aside for the time being. Same with medical supplies, food, water; all in all, it looks like she's counting up what they have.

Just, you know, keeping the sharper bits for herself. Next bag rifled through, another knife found. Gamora holds it up into the light to inspect it with a discerning eye. She won't even look away when approached, instead offering a dismissive: ]

Don't even try it.

[ The third knife, probably deemed worthy, ends up stabbed into the ground by her for emphasis. ]

Just behave and maybe I'll let you have one.

Edited 2016-01-27 18:55 (UTC)

Something didn't feel right at all. He shouldn't be slowly waking at this point. Had something happen after trying to get back to the Resistance base? There's a groan as the pilot shifts in his seat, shifting against the straps that held him in. Poe's eyes open to a completely different scene though. He expected to be in a single cockpit not an escape pod of some sort. Their had been others around but he couldn't make out any of their faces due to the smoke clouding the pod. The electrical popped and sparked causing him look around for where it came from. He didn't really want to get stuck in something that was about to blow but the lights soon went out. There didn't seem to be any kind of trouble. Not yet at least and he hoped that it would stay that way.

The straps were easy to unbuckle out of and he landed on the ground with a slight wobble. It wasn't anything like that time when he woke up on Jakku. But it was similar, a faint headache but he didn't seem injured. Poe couldn't remember how he ended up in it either. The pilot saw something sticking out from under his seat. He grabbed hold of it and pulled yanking out a backpack. It didn't take him long to sling it on but he wasn't done with the pod just yet.

He takes his time looking over the controls first wanting to see if he could recognize anything. The controls were different from what he had seen. If there was something to read he would to best understand everything. For now he keeps in mind where the communications could be. Poe scavenged for a few more water bottles and an extra backpack before exiting the pod. He would wait around for any others that wake. Going out alone might not be the best idea.

[ There's something about the whole abduction thing that seems so passe to Peter, now. Like, it's so 1988 (just so 2000 and late) but, okay, maybe the crash-landing in some kind of interplanetary transport ship is a new part of the overall package. Not that this is new, either, the waking up on a crashing ship thing. There was this one time on a junker when he was just out of his teens when--

Nope, sorry, storytime is temporarily on hold, seeing as how the crash knocks Peter unconscious.

He wakes in the darkness a few minutes after the impact, when the lights have died and the exposed wires sizzle and pop. He takes stock of himself -- two arms, two legs, a head, and the appropriate number of fingers and toes -- before he finally wrestles with the harness and stumbles out of his seat. Fuck, his shoulder aches something awful, and he's going to be sore as hell come tomorrow. Assuming tomorrow ever comes, wherever this is.

... Where the hell is he, anyway?

There are others on the ship, still. He sees shadowy forms thanks to the light streaming in through the breach in the bulkhead -- and he only notices the presence of the bags when he spots others walking away with them. He grabs up one, claims another from a John Doe, and rummages through it until he finds the flashlight, which he wields with impunity. He casts the light around, examining the interior of the damaged fuselage, and lets out a low whistle. ]

This is a real fixer-upper, huh?

[The Avenger side of him had kicked in almost immediately. He'd gotten his seat belt off and started to check on everyone else, everything a blur but there were people to help and that was his first priority. There were several dead and as much as he wanted to do something about it he let them be for the moment, focusing instead on the wounded and aiding others in getting themselves out of their seats.

Head outside. This whole place could blow. No idea how much damage there was.

The same things repeated over and over again to different people as Clint urged them up--if they could walk--or found someone to help those that couldn't. His own head was throbbing and he could feel the drying blood on his temple but the archer paid it no mind as he finally eased his way outside.

It felt good to get into the fresh air and he let himself close his eyes for a moment and just breath, attempting--and failing--to remember what had caused all of this. Clint frown, eyes opening slowly and he took in the other survivors now that he could see them all a bit better. They were all in varying states of hurt and panic, most of them keeping it together well enough but he had a feeling it wouldn't last like. Trauma was a bitch like that.

Hopping down off the torn edge of metal that had once been the side of the shuttle, Clint started to try and make sense of their surroundings while, at the same time, doing another check of the others.

Which would have worked had his head not started to spin sending him stumbling a few steps, vision blurring as he sucked in a quick breath.

That wasn't good.]

i. stop, drop and fall on your face

[ standing in the middle of the gaping hole torn through the metal skin of the ship like it was made of flimsiplast is one han solo.

without his blaster ( thanks, vader ) or his jacket ( thanks, lando ) or chewbacca or leia ( again, thank you, lando, he'll have to drop by personally to fully express his gratitude, ) he squints to protect his eyes from the reflective glare of the sunlight and comes to the realization that, while he may have been moved off cloud city, he's definitely not in tatooine either.

worse: this is somehow bad news. ]

Great.

ii. when life gives you a crashed ship

[ he's got his pack at his feet and a second pack that's probably best not to ask from whom he got it.

after holding up the crowd at the "door," he'd retreated into the interior. the ship is shot; the pilot is dead. none of that stops him from sticking a flashlight between his teeth and beginning the task of combing the interior for useful parts to strip. like parts to make fire or paneling that can be arranged into shelter or, if his luck decides to turn up any second now, a working comms system.

he'll even take one that just needs a little tlc. but he needs one and he needs off this rock now.

which is why your character might find themselves being pointed to. ]

Hey! You! [ han waves them over with the flashlight he removed from his mouth. ] Yeah, get over here. Hold up another light for me.

Edited 2016-01-28 01:10 (UTC)

( a stands for )

Aw, heck.

[ is the ever so eloquent utterance from Rose as she awakens to the grisly scene before her. The pungent smell of blood is one of the first things that strikes her. Her eyebrows furrow as her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. ]

Looks like the party happened without me. [ 'Party.' Yeah, right. The woman sighs and shuffles around the wreckage. The flashlight isn't used because 1) she doesn't want to waste the batteries and 2) she doesn't actually need it. It doesn't occur to her that skulking about in the dark might not be such a good idea.

Her eyes look through the corpses littering the ship. She isn't the type to loot the dead bodies though she can't deny the extra supplies would be useful. Someone else probably needs them more than she does, anyway. ]

Wonder what happened here... [ At this point, she's just wandering about and inspecting all that she can. She'll make her way off the ship in due time but doubts she's the only one curious about what exactly went down. ... Besides the ship, obviously. ]

( b stands for )

Boooooo. Couldn't we have landed on an arctic planet? This heat sucks.

[ Though she's talking to no one in particular, she feels the need to whine about the ridiculously high temperature. For all her complaining, however, an arctic landscape actually isn't preferable though. It would remind the woman far too much of home. So, even though this heat is absolutely sweltering, she'll deal with it best she can.

Apparently that means. Uhm. Stripping? One might catch the sound of fabric loudly ripping among the greenery. Rose is at the source of it tearing off the majority of her jeans to transform them into what are basically booty shorts. She ties her long blond hair up in a messy ponytail with one of the scraps of fabric and breathes a sigh of relief. That's better! ]

Alright, let's get this show on the road. [ What time is it? IT'S ADVENTURE TIME. Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to explore the alien planet we go. This woman is taking this all surprisingly in stride. ]

(( ooc; rosie is a yōkai under a glamor spell to make her look human and she acts pretty much human too. her info page is here for anyone that wants to take a gander. and if you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them! ))

[ . . . Just what kind of magic is this, anyhow? Finally having stepped down from the vessel, Kija frowns heavily as sparks and smoke rise from the strange metal craft. His white robes match his light, silvery white hair as he takes the scene in. He's at a complete loss, and honestly has no idea over what's happened.

What is technology to someone from the very distant past?

For his part, though, he's removed the bodies from inside after having checked for signs of life. Nothing. It just doesn't seem right to leave them in there after all of this. Those who could be helped by now have been removed with people attempting to attend to them as best they can. Somehow, he escaped the impact relatively unscathed. Which means it's part of his duty to help others, too.

With a frown, he glances to his right hand. Right now, it's part of the few things he has to help. Unwinding the wrap he always wears to help conceal his less than human trait, a large, scaled white claw is visible as he moves across the grass to one of the individuals who appears to be bleeding. He frowns as he approaches in concern.]

Excuse me. [He says calmly, so as not to startle someone who is already injured.] Let me help you wrap that.

Yukimura was unnecessarily excited, to be honest. He has no clue what is going on except that he's been kidnapped, and no idea what the metal can they arrived with is besides it being some sort of ship, from what he has heard. But new experiences and new places to see for someone with a wanderlust from a small island kingdom like Japan had got to be worthwhile. Not that he knew if it would or not, but just meeting new people and seeing new places were enough for him. That and maybe some alcohol and to get laid once in a while, he supposed.

So! He simply had to set off exploring, and he's a nimble and fast man, so he moves around the forest (and the ship) easily, climbing every tree and sometimes trying to catch animals even though some might be different. But he grabbed a stick, so he should be fine, he is certain of it. Besides, he is able to defeat heavily armored men with only a fishing pole, he knows fully well that it's the use of the weapon and not the quality that matters the most.

He really should stop sneaking up on people (or wild animals), though.

Or flirt with them, for that matter. The people, not the animals. But he can flirt with anyone, man or woman doesn't matter, nor does appearance.

Finn is already not at his best when the ship starts. When it crashes, that only compounds the issues he's already having. Waking up is slow, and when he does come around, it's with a groan, blinking confusedly around at his surroundings. He fumbles at his seatbelt, fingers sliding over the buckles.

Finn swears softly, continuing to try to unbuckle himself, but he's shaking too much. Anxiety builds, that pressure rising in his chest until he can't breathe, gasping and pulling frantically at his belt. Where is he? Where's Rey? And Poe? Finn lets out a quiet noise, struggling like a wild thing as the panic builds further.

«« a »»
[ A metal cavern. He is inside a metal cavern, and without his swords. Being in a strange place - double up strange because the surroundings were so confusing in their unfamiliarity. It makes him very uneasy and wary.

But while he might be disoriented, he's going to search for some for some form of weapon that he might be ale to use. While he does though, he stops to see if the people who have been crushed in any way are alive or dead. All the while he's both silent and light on his feet, not even showing a change in expression as he comes across corpses. ]

«« b »»
[ At least forests like this one is not unfamiliar to him. Up until now he's been incredibly tense, but upon seeing something that's not entirely stranger, much of the tension disappears out of his shoulders. That doesn't mean that he lets his guard down, though. He has found a long knife that he's stuck into his belt, but he also wants something that can work as a replacement for his long swords, so first thing he does is search for any branches thick and long and straight enough that he might be able to cut down. ]

[Waking up in unfamiliar places and not knowing how he got there was nothing something Steve even wanted to contemplate getting used to. At least the first time he'd woken up in a bed. Waking up in rigging in what looked to be some transport carrier was less than comforting. It only takes a minute to work through the haze of waking and looking around before he's moving, getting himself out of his seat, grabbing the pack he spots, and going to assist the other passengers who look just as confused. It's easy to organize the ones that seem coherent enough to help and they are getting the injured out of the transport. The smell of something burning isn't exactly comforting and he wants to get people out and cleared in case it blows. Once an Avenger always an Avenger.

He can't say he's not glancing around trying to see if he recognizes anyone- any of his team, someone to explain all this. Everyone seems just as confused as he is.

He takes in his surroundings, through the trees and beyond the wall it looks like a city of sorts. That just might be their best choice for shelter, but he's hesitant- who knows what kind of people are there. If there are even people there to begin with. He really wishes he had some Intel right about now. It's then that he remembers the pack on his back and he pulls it open inspecting its contents wishing he had his shield.]

arrival/shuttle;

[ there's ringing in his ears, and thomas isn't sure if that's from the explosions he'd just ran from, the Flat Trans he'd just been shoved through, or whatever the hell is going on now, with the destroyed shuttle surrounding him.

this isn't where he's supposed to be.

he'd gone through the Flat Trans, made sure it was safe on the other side, he should be in a field of green, looking down a hill into a glade, surrounded by thick forest, with mountains and a view of the ocean not far away. instead, he's in some fried rust bucket, with a bunch of strangers strapped in all around. not all of them look like they made it through whatever happened here. it was supposed to be over. the chancellor said they'd go somewhere safe and start to rebuild. a real safe haven. WICKED was destroyed, wasn't it? then again, how many times has he been told he was "safe" to find that so, so, so very far from the truth? his chest aches, and the scrapes and bruises all over his person are starting to set in, adrenaline from the escape ebbing away, and thomas feels the crushing feeling of despair sinking in.

they'll never be safe. not really. not ever. they'll never let them go, will they?

first things first, though - those around him. with a groan, thomas stretches, popping his seat restraints off, grabbing the backpack beneath the chair, and pulling himself up to look to the person next to him. hands reach for their safety restraints, starting to free the person up, in case they're too out of it or injured to manage (not that thomas looks much better, considering he's pretty much been through hell and back very recently). ] Hey, you okay? Anything broken? Can you stand?

exploring;

[ thomas doesn't waste much time getting out of the shuttle and looking around. his mind is reeling, but still revolving around the same idea - WICKED, it has to be WICKED. at least, he's not seeing Brenda and Minho or Fry around, so hopefully they made it through to the safe haven. hopefully, it's just him WICKED stole. somehow. he's stopped questioning how they do what they do. if he had his memories, maybe he'd have a better guess, but he'd honestly rather have the confusion than risk becoming the person that designed all... this.

still, it's odd. usually, there's some instructions. some clues as to what they want them doing, where they want them going. what maze they want the rats to run through for cheese. or, you know, basic freedom and survival. here? nothing. just the shuttle, the pack of supplies, and ruins in the distance. so that's where he heads - the ruins. chances are, with WICKED, if he tries going anywhere else, bad stuff will be putting him back onto course.

thomas can be found picking through bushes, looking around at the trees, occasionally muttering to himself, like trying to take mental notes. if he happens to see someone struggling, he'll likely reach out to give them a hand. after all, that landing was apparently pretty rough. otherwise, he'll ask a question now and again to anyone who's nearby. ] Anything looking familiar to anyone?

ruins;

Hey! Guys! Listen!

[ there's a teenage kid, about 16 and looking like he's been through zombie infested hell and back already, that's clamored up on one of the higher ruins, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out to those nearby. he might throw an acorn or two at people if they aren't paying attention. ]

The shanks that dropped us here obviously aren't up for answering any questions or getting us out, so we need to start working together. [ for a sixteen year old looking like he just went diving through a mind field and then fought a gorilla with knives for hands, lost in some dystopian earth, he doesn't actually seem that panicked. annoyed as hell, yes, but not panicked. ] The klunk supplies they gave us aren't gonna last more than a few days, even with rationing, and we need to get some kind of shelter worked up. There's animals around, but we're gonna need more weapons and people who can hunt if everyone's gonna have enough to live on.

[ as he talks, thomas digs through his pack some, where he's crouches on the ruined wall, frowning at what he's finding, though continues talking. ]

We need to start sharing what we know. The faster we pool information and skills, the faster we get out of here.

[ a pause, a blink, and he glances back up, lines of his features hard. angry. ]

The faster we find the slintheads who did this and let 'em know how we feel. [ aka stab them in the face, pretty much. it's pretty obvious he means stab them in the face. another pause, and he nods, before starting to crawl back down off the wall. ] Good that.

wildcard;

[[ idk hit me!!! ]]

Edited 2016-01-28 20:40 (UTC)

When Padmé finally finds her way to consciousness, it is with a soft groan and the realization something is holding her in place. Her eyes blink open, then shut again immediately, pain exploding behind her eyes -- and yet, that is far less painful than the startlingly clear thought at the forefront of her mind: she shouldn't be here.

And yet there is a seat at her back, a ship around her, for a ship it seems to be when her eyes finally adjust to the dim light. She passes her hand over her eyes before unbuckling the harness and standing up, shaky and uncertain, wincing at the pain moving her neck brings. (For her, the reason behind that is not whiplash; it is a planet clouded in fumes and lava, her throat constricting as she tries to gasp for breath.)

She moves her hands over her belly, breathes in, out. She doesn't know what has happened for her to be here, standing inside a ship she doesn't recognize, the sight of a planet she never remembers setting course on barely visible through the crack in the hull of the ship. She doesn't know, and that is enough to make her worry, because what could have happened to make her lose her memory of the recent events... but she is more than determined to find out. More than that, she needs to know.

Padmé Amidala has never been one to stand still when there is something to be done. She turns to look around, to whoever is next to her and conscious, whether in their seat or out of it already.

"What happened to the ship, can you tell me? Was it an attack?"

( will match format! )

Crash Landing!

[ She's in costume, so the moment everything stops shaking she'll stick to a wall and head to the cockpit, only to find the pilot dead. ] Damn.

Everyone else alright? Please be alright.

[ Next she starts checking on the other people in there. If someone's stuck she'll drop down and put that enhanced strength to work. ]

We need to get out of here. Usually this is the part where the crashed ship goes boom.

Nearing Civilization

[ Spider-Woman can be found up in the buildings, looking around at signs of further civilization. She's also internally pissed because she can't swing around here, and that seriously ruins her style. ]

Why do I get the feeling we're not gonna get cellphone reception here?

Out of the Suit

[ At some point does Gwen decides to change clothes, thanking whatever god let her carry her backpack over with her. It should be easier to get to know people while not wearing her costume anyway, right?

So she sets out to wander and see just who she runs into. There is no way this will backfire, nope. ]

Wildcard

( 1. dropship )

[The last thing Fiora remembers is Shulk's sleeping face as she stood over his hospital bed, trying to talk him into waking up from his coma. Perhaps she had wandered out of the room afterwards, perhaps she'd found a quiet place to rest and managed to doze off to sleep. That would especially explain the dream-like situation she's in now. But it's Shulk's face that omes to mind as she's looking around the inside of this busted ship and the half-dead people around her. Wherever she is, she shouldn't be here; she needs to get back to Shulk. There's still too much to do.

Freeing herself from her - seat? bindings? she's too dazed to tell - is easy enough. She clasps her robotic fingers around the belts keeping her strapped in and rips them away from the seat with little effort. Her heavy feet hit the ground a second later. Now she can see all the way down the middle lane between the seats - dozens of people, some clearly dead and others as uninjured as she is, and a huge gash in the hull of whatever ship this is.]

Are you alright?

[She asks the person who was seated next to her, but a few seconds later she realizes they're... gone. Sobered, she nevertheless moves to the next person, and the one after, looking for anyone she can help, anyone who's become stuck in their seat or can't get out on their own.]

Hey... hey! Can you hear me? Are you alright?

( 2. outside )

[Whatever's going on here, it's clearly intentional on the part of whoever strapped them into that ship. Fiora stands over the pile of backpacks she scavenged from the ship, one of them being her own and the others belonging to those who passed away as a result of a crash. Or apparent crash - it certainly looks like that's what happened, but nobody remembers any of it.

Water, rope, pills of some kind, a number of devices she doesn't recognize, a blanket... and food, although there wasn't a need to include food in her backpack. She'd have gladly taken more water instead. For a few minutes, she wonders if she can barter away her food for water, but most if not all of the people here are going to need water as much as she will.

With a deep sigh, she tries to keep herself on-task instead of dwelling on this frustratingly implausible and unexplained predicament. Grabbing one of the extra backpacks, she trudges her half-metal body up to the nearest person.]

Excuse me. There are some extra supplies here if you'd care for some. [she pauses. oh, what the heck, she'll try anyway.] ...I've got extra food, too, if you're willing to trade some of your water.

[It's the loss of memory that's fucking with her. This isn't the first time she'd woken up without much of a clue to her surroundings, or even the first time she'd woken up to find out shit had suddenly gone down hill very quickly. It's just that Ellie couldn't remember how the hell she'd ended up groggily coming to, buckled intp some kind of car seat, with a sea of unfamiliar faces swimming into vision. It looked like every single one of them were in the same position here, some less fortunate when it came to surviving, but this isn't her first crisis rodeo. Ellie knows the drill: Get safe, worry about others later (or not at all).

She's quick to unbuckle herself and scramble out of her space, catching sight of a few others reaching under their seat and deciding to follow suit. She clutches at the backpack like it's a lifeline, holding it close to her chest as she does a quick scout around for anything more. She's small and quiet and it serves her well in managing to raid supplies nearby without getting in anyone's way, succeeding in quickly stashing the contents of another bag from under a limp and clearly lifeless body, still strapped into their seat.

When she does finally stumble out into the light, it's with a backpack over her shoulder and only the slightest frown of confusion for her surrounding. A frown that all but fades as she turns to realise what she's just climbed out of.]

No fucking way! Is that a space ship?! [And then a soft, awed mutter of:] Awesome.

[ Arima's expression is grim and otherwise emotionless as he steps out of the ruined ship. His presence gives off an air of authority but he's otherwise silent as he surveys the area. He doesn't know what happened or how it happened but they needed to find out more about this place before dark.

He'll rummage through the backpack provided noting how there wasn't much of anything of use within it. But that was perfectly fine, it didn't look like there were hostiles around here anyway. ]

We should form groups to go out and search the area. Does anyone's bag have any weaponry?

[ Cause he sure as hell doesn't. It makes hunting and defending themselves a bit tricky. ]

[ Robin's felt whiplash before, but jesus. Not this bad.

He comes to with an awful ache in his head that shoots all the way down his neck. He lets out something between a sigh and a groan; probably got caught on the wrong end during a fight, or something. He's not exactly sure who he was fighting, though. Or if he had been with his friends at all. His memory's awfully foggy.

When he opens his eyes, they grow wide behind the domino mask. This isn't home, or the Tower. It's not even Jump City.

There's bodies. Everywhere. They're lifeless, silent. Or, at least, a few are. Some are coming to, others are a little slower coming 'round. Every single person he's unfamiliar with, others looking like they came from a different planet entirely. His brow furrows and his aching brain tries to process everything together. What in the hell has happened?

A gloved hand rubs at his neck, grimacing at the dull ache. Robin really, really wants to get an idea of where they are, but everybody else's condition is a lot more important right now. Something about you catches his attention, and he approaches with a nod. ] You okay?

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Newt | The Maze Runner

Luke fon Fabre | Tales of the Abyss

Daryl Dixon | The Walking Dead

Alice Elliot | Shadow Hearts: Covenant