The Legion [Mods] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letsgolegion) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionmissions2017-01-03 12:57 am
letsgolegion) wrote in legionmissions2017-01-03 12:57 am
Entry tags:
SILENT HORIZON - [Part 1: The In-Between] [modplot]
Who| Everyone who signed up
What| 2 spoopy
Where| In The In-Between, the pocket dimension inside the Silent Horizon
When| After Valor's Day. Mission starts shortly before "No Sanity Clause" and runs simultaneously in game time
Warnings/Notes| Potential warnings for EVERYTHING. This is a horror plot that may tread a lot of ground. Please keep in mind that you can stumble on disturbing stuff in almost any thread. We advise all players to put warnings in the subjects of threads when they lean towards cut-worthy stuff.
The mission was simple. The team had to board the derelict Silent Horizon, a ship with an experimental stardrive, after it finally reappeared in UP space, many hours after it was supposed to reappear, during its first field test. No life signs were aboard, but the presence of several Roboticans on the crew -- who were undetectable by bioscan -- meant that the ship had to be boarded to make sure the Robotican crewmen were gone, too.
The United Planets government, concerned about the loss of the crew members, asked the Legion to step in, in case the threat on board was of a metapowered nature. Due to the massive danger implied by an entire starship crew going missing, the response team sent on the mission was relatively large, more than enough to handle any hostiles. None of this "we'll just send one tiny team to go alone into a giant starship against an unknown threat" business. No, if there was a hostile force on the ship, the plan was "let's drop 25+ Legionnaires on its head." Safety in numbers.
It was a good idea. In theory. In most cases, it would've given them the edge that would've let them face something very nasty without succumbing to it themselves. But in practice, it just meant that it was a much larger team that suddenly went missing after watching the last video log of the previous crew on the command deck.
Screams poured out of the screen the moment it started to play -- automatically -- when they entered the command deck. Onscreen, they saw the original crew murdering each other, tearing each other apart in a blood-soaked rampage.
"Wait, stop! What's wrong with everyone? Why are you --?" cried out one of the Robotican crew members, clearly immune from whatever was causing the madness, but his cries went unheeded as one of his Coluan crew-mates bashed his head clean off with a chair.
After the video played, the darkness swept in, wrapping around the whole team of Legionnaires, making them feel frozen all the way down to their bones and stealing consciousness away from them. When they woke again, they all found themselves separated, waking up in a realm of nightmares.
The halls breathe here -- at least in the places that have walls. They flex in and out, like the passageways inside the lungs. Sometimes the walls give way to open nightmare-scapes, remote and foggy, or bright and alien and exposed. The landscape bends and shifts around them, reacting to their thoughts and fears. And every so often, far off, there is the pitter-pat of something strange moving through this place. Like the sound of many feet -- or hands -- slapping against the ground or flesh-walls.
At some point, there is always a voice that each of them hears, tinny and robotic and distant, warning them of a being called the Faceless, that rules this realm. They're told not to feed from his blood, that if they do they'll be made a part of this place. If they accept his offer, and change forms, they'll eventually bleed to death, and if the Faceless isn't stopped before they die, those that die in their mutated forms will belong to him forever.
It's not the only voice they'll hear, though. This is a land filled with whispers. And screams. And the sounds of begging sometimes, too.
And for some of the Legionnaires, the In-Between speaks to them, touches something deep and dark inside them -- and it's calling them home.
What| 2 spoopy
Where| In The In-Between, the pocket dimension inside the Silent Horizon
When| After Valor's Day. Mission starts shortly before "No Sanity Clause" and runs simultaneously in game time
Warnings/Notes| Potential warnings for EVERYTHING. This is a horror plot that may tread a lot of ground. Please keep in mind that you can stumble on disturbing stuff in almost any thread. We advise all players to put warnings in the subjects of threads when they lean towards cut-worthy stuff.
The mission was simple. The team had to board the derelict Silent Horizon, a ship with an experimental stardrive, after it finally reappeared in UP space, many hours after it was supposed to reappear, during its first field test. No life signs were aboard, but the presence of several Roboticans on the crew -- who were undetectable by bioscan -- meant that the ship had to be boarded to make sure the Robotican crewmen were gone, too.
The United Planets government, concerned about the loss of the crew members, asked the Legion to step in, in case the threat on board was of a metapowered nature. Due to the massive danger implied by an entire starship crew going missing, the response team sent on the mission was relatively large, more than enough to handle any hostiles. None of this "we'll just send one tiny team to go alone into a giant starship against an unknown threat" business. No, if there was a hostile force on the ship, the plan was "let's drop 25+ Legionnaires on its head." Safety in numbers.
It was a good idea. In theory. In most cases, it would've given them the edge that would've let them face something very nasty without succumbing to it themselves. But in practice, it just meant that it was a much larger team that suddenly went missing after watching the last video log of the previous crew on the command deck.
Screams poured out of the screen the moment it started to play -- automatically -- when they entered the command deck. Onscreen, they saw the original crew murdering each other, tearing each other apart in a blood-soaked rampage.
"Wait, stop! What's wrong with everyone? Why are you --?" cried out one of the Robotican crew members, clearly immune from whatever was causing the madness, but his cries went unheeded as one of his Coluan crew-mates bashed his head clean off with a chair.
After the video played, the darkness swept in, wrapping around the whole team of Legionnaires, making them feel frozen all the way down to their bones and stealing consciousness away from them. When they woke again, they all found themselves separated, waking up in a realm of nightmares.
The halls breathe here -- at least in the places that have walls. They flex in and out, like the passageways inside the lungs. Sometimes the walls give way to open nightmare-scapes, remote and foggy, or bright and alien and exposed. The landscape bends and shifts around them, reacting to their thoughts and fears. And every so often, far off, there is the pitter-pat of something strange moving through this place. Like the sound of many feet -- or hands -- slapping against the ground or flesh-walls.
At some point, there is always a voice that each of them hears, tinny and robotic and distant, warning them of a being called the Faceless, that rules this realm. They're told not to feed from his blood, that if they do they'll be made a part of this place. If they accept his offer, and change forms, they'll eventually bleed to death, and if the Faceless isn't stopped before they die, those that die in their mutated forms will belong to him forever.
It's not the only voice they'll hear, though. This is a land filled with whispers. And screams. And the sounds of begging sometimes, too.
And for some of the Legionnaires, the In-Between speaks to them, touches something deep and dark inside them -- and it's calling them home.
Monster Factory
Seriously, this whole mess was actually gonna give her nightmares for weeks. Months, even.
She keeps running towards the gunfire, finally spotting the monsters that she presumes are the ones being shot at. Alright, well, no sense in really waiting any longer, as Gwen fires multiple shots of webbing at the monsters, looking to pin them against the walls to keep them from running all over the place.
no subject
And it's not a second too soon, the first snap of spat webbing when it pins the nearest stalker against the wall, away from the now cooling butt of her gun. A few skitter off for it, crawling along the walls like cockroaches, distorted limbs bending at inhuman angles as they work to regroup. In total there might be five, six— considering the fact that they're comprised of shadows and glitching, occasionally fading digital markers, it's difficult to tell once they take the opportunity to melt into darker spaces.
"¡Ten cuidado!" Sombra shouts, aimlessly firing off a few scattered rounds to keep at least two of them from disappearing entirely. "Don't let them fade away or they'll try to get the jump on you, manita."
no subject
Everything here may have gone straight to hell, but her shooters kept on working wonderfully. Bless them both.
She'd keep shooting webbing at the monsters. Looking to keep them pinned, of course, but also busy enough to stop them from disappearing. Two against six still wasn't good odds, though.
"I can keep them busy. Think you can make them say hello to your little friend?"
Scarface reference while they're waist deep in a nightmare spaceship? Why not.
Besides, bullets would just hurt more.
no subject
"Me encanta."
From there on out, it's quick, clean synergy: she's used to operating in tangent with Reaper or Widowmaker, a pair that leaves extraordinarily little room for error. For every pinned shade that takes more than a second to recede into the cracks in split paneling, there's a snapping spray of bullets to rapidly aid in the process of dispersal.
Less than a minute later, they're alone. Anything that hasn't been manually taken care of drawn off in a full, satisfying retreat. Which is when Sombra decides to speak up again, this time in earnest.
"Thanks for the help."
no subject
"Yeah, sure, no problem." Gwen was sounding relatively upbeat for someone who just faced creepy nightmare shadow... things.
She approached one of the ones that had been shot and left behind, gently nudging it with her foot. Yep, was looking pretty dead down there.
"Least they're easy enough to take down."
no subject
On closer inspection, with the adrenaline rush of a fight entirely spent, it's easier to notice how disheveled Sombra really is. Scuffs, scrapes, normally brilliant circuitry burned out and half-hidden beneath tangled hair. Still, it doesn't entirely kill the smile she'd been wearing before: finding anyone with a sense of humor in a place like this is like finding some distant reflection of herself. Grounding, in a way.
"Just as an FYI: you might want to get moving before they come back."
A suggestion she's already adopted as her own personal motto, apparently. A holographic map of her own covered territory flicked up into view and adjusted to mark off the encountered dead end before she's pressing back in the opposite direction without bothering to consult her newfound companion. With all the people she's found and lost, she doesn't expect this to last.
no subject
"Hey." She spoke up while running.
"I want to say that I completely understand wanting to get away from whatever it was we just took down and not wait for more of their buddies to show up. But are you okay"