The Legion [Mods] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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.
no subject
And if Lena had to be honest, not much had gone right with the mission yet either. Expecting the worst was probably the safest attitude.
"I'm right as rain, love," she offers, turning to continue onward as instructed. She doesn't go all that far ahead of him though, her own brows pinching lightly when she notices him panting. Maybe her joke wasn't all that much of a joke after all -- she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Jack look exhausted. "Did they get you?"
no subject
“I’m okay.”
The more logical part of him that has more-or-less lost its effectiveness in the aftermath of the attack on HQ says that he needs to leave, get out of here before he hurts her, but his natural stubbornness still tells him that he can fight it. He’s not going to let it win, even as he feels the warm wetness of blood under his jacket.
“Let’s go.”
no subject
"You know, there's nothin' to say we won't find more of these things." Reasoning with anyone raised under Overwatch never seemed to go well, but that wouldn't stop Tracer from trying. She turns to close some of the distance between them again -- its impossible to smell the blood on him, when its surrounding so much of them. "We can rest."
no subject
He's sure of that, at least. They might just get turned around in circles again, but to him that's better than sitting around and waiting for something to kill them. If she's right and there are more Bastion units, 76 doesn't exactly want to be around if and when more show up.
He picks up his rifle and starts to move, motioning for Tracer to come with him.
no subject
Too late, he's already moving. Her sigh is external, but quiet as she picks herself up and takes a few quick steps to catch up with him. She only takes the hint to stay quiet for a few minutes before she clears her throat and tries to talk him into resting again.
"There ain't nothin' wrong with stoppin', love," she tries again, scratching at the back of her neck. It keeps her from getting too distracted by all the grotesque noises around them, or the far off mechanical marching she's certain she hears. "Its like I said -- they could come to us just as easy as we trip over them. And we're less likely to get separated if we hold still. I think."
There hadn't been much of a pattern of anything, as far as she could tell.
no subject
Besides, if he keeps moving, he can distract himself from the fact that despite his assertions otherwise, something is very wrong.
He makes it a few more steps before he's suddenly overwhelmed, something twisting in his chest that sends him bracing himself against the nearest wall.
no subject
"Alright, that's enough, you ain't goin' any farther," she says, with a shrillness that betrays how concerned she is for his well-being. Even if she hadn't seen it first hand, this place was clearly messing with them, and she doesn't want to give the Faceless the opportunity to screw with him when he's clearly already injured.
She's wearing gloves, so when she comes to rest her hands on him, she doesn't immediately feel the wetness that's begun to leak through his gear. But she is fruitlessly trying to push him down to the ground. "Just--take a rest. Please."
no subject
"Don't--"
It comes out as a pained growl as he tries to pull away, one hand still splayed on the wall.
"You need to get out of here."
no subject
She hesitates, looking up at her once-commanding officer with some dismay.
"You're bleedin'," she replies, as if to refute his assertion that she needs to leave.
no subject
“Something—happened.”
Jack doesn’t think he could describe his encounter with the Faceless even if he wanted to. Even if he knows the way he says it is just going to invite more questions. This time when he speaks, it’s a snarl.
“I need you to go, Lena.”
no subject
"--I can't just bloody well leave you here like that!"
She snaps right back at him, hardly the feral snarl he forces in her direction, but just as stubborn. Her concern radiates off her in waves, and its hard for her not to understand that something is very wrong, and that whatever help she can offer -- its probably too late.
But she can't leave him. Why would she ever leave him? He was the one who'd left them all behind.
no subject
She should, is the implication. 76 can't actually bring himself to describe what happens, so he falls back on something else, instead.
"This is an order, Oxton."
Which is unfair of him to say--especially when accompanied by a familiar, commanding tone of voice, one that's all-too-familiar.
no subject
There's some clear hesitation -- he'd specifically told her that he wasn't her Commander anymore, and he'd seemed fairly adamant about it. She should call him on his hypocrisy (was about to), but if he was still the Jack Morrison she knew, then he wouldn't have gone back on his word unless he really needed to.
"I'll come back for you."
Its said like a warning, even though its more of a promise. She would find more people and drag him to help if she needed to.
"I will."
For a few more seconds, she's rooted to the spot, clearly still caught between moral grounds. Then, abruptly, she disappears in a flash of blue, as if she'd never been there at all.