[Group Post] Car Wars: A New Hope

[whyarewehere]

Who| Anybody and everybody you want to throw in! This is a player-made group post.
What| Forming a war rig/battle car convoy to try and reach the edge of the map.
Where| Desert Zone - Nature District - Murderworld Arena - Planet Harrub
When| Day 1 of the Arena, immediately after people are thrown in (or any time they might hook up with the convoy) until the late evening.
Warnings/Notes| We Mad Max now Vehicular violence, regular violence, probably flaming guitars

OOC post discussion

It's a lovely, lovely day in the Desert Zone. The sun's out (because the sun is always out), the spearodactyls are soaring, and monstrous vehicles driven by mercenary tributes and their Warboy henchmen rumble through the dunes and harsh salt flats, hunting for unwary victims.

You are here.

Fortunately, you're not the only one here.

What We're Doing
You woke up with (or close enough to with) another Legionnaire (or Legionnaires) and have banded together. As team members find one another, they're forming a multi-war-rig convoy and making a run straight for the allegedly impenetrable force field in an attempt to break free.

On this journey, they will face opposition from the mercenary tributes. They will also have to cross through the sandstorm about halfway there. (You're also free to bring in your own hazards!)

Because having it all be one gigantic thread would be a mess, we're setting it up for everyone to be able to subthread whatever they want while handwaving the fact the convoy is going to the same place more or less together. Thread, NPC, and plot freely together. There will be a thread reserved for the end of the line.

When We Get There
The "finale" thread will have the Legionnaires reach the edge of the dome and do whatever they'd like to try and break it, instead just proving that they really can't bust out at this point. Then Arcade's hologram will appear to taunt them and use the Arena's teleportation systems to scatter the characters to other locations, wherever players deem fit to drop characters to continue their plot threading outside this post.

How Long Will This Take?
Assume this consumes most of Day 1. Characters will be scattered a little while before nightfall, so you'll have still have some time to do some Day 1 Things™ before Day 2.

Comments

Free Threading

[whyarewehere]

Some ideas to help you think of things to put in toplevels:
-Waking up in the desert and meeting others
-Finding a vehicle or stealing one from the Warboys
-Picking up stragglers
-Meeting another friendly vehicle
-Ridiculous Mad Maxian gun car battles
-Crossing the sandstorm
-Sarlaac pothole
-Who gets to drive?
-Are we there yet?

Finale Thread

[whyarewehere]

The barrier is finally in sight shimmering on the horizon. The convoy has shrugged off the blazing desert, the ravages of the sandstorm, the hostile wildlife, and a horde of vicious murderers riding war rigs and battle cars to get here, but they've done it.

Now it's in reach, it's time to try and break out.

And realize it's not gonna work.

(( Keep this to one thread! ))

Waking up in the desert and meeting others | OTA

[blue_flame]

As a firebender, Azula was used to heat. But this was something else. She felt like the sun was actually baking her and, while doing that, sapping her strength. She had to find some shade and soon.

She looked around her and noticed a few items she hadn't had before. Some if t was strange: two pain killers, that were packaged up in a material she didn't recognize and a a roll of something else that she didn't recognize, though it seemed like some sort of binding tool. However she smiled when she saw the set of throwing knives. While that was more Mai's thing, she could definitely do damage with those. Non-lethal damage.

After cataloguing her new possessions, she looked around. There wasn't much to see. A few trees and above them, she could see some sort of large creatures flying around. But there was something in the distance, though she couldn't tell what. She started to walk in that direction, hoping that whatever it was, it would be useful.

After Candy-Mountain; Before Industrial Zone

[notthatjason]

The thing in the distance was a figure and that figure was Jason. The teleportation that had occurred at the top of Candy Mountain had been unexpected to say the least and the fact that it had hurtled him into a scorching hot desert was NOT appreciated. Jason had only been here a few minutes and was already drenched in sweat. He drew a hand across his brow and squinted in the distance, seeing a figure approaching.

Jason looked around and then decided to Hades with it. He summoned a light breeze, the desert air refused to grow cooler for him, but at least the breeze was better than nothing. He started towards the figure and, after a few paced, recognized the person as no other than Azula.

He raised a hand in greeting, hoping he had her attention even though he could already tell she was walking straight towards him, "Hey!"

[blue_flame]

Out of all the people she'd met so far, Jason was the one Azula thought the most of, and so she was actually pleased to see him. "Hello," she said. "Fancy meeting you here."

The cool breeze reached and her and it was such a relief. For the first time, she almost wished she'd been born an airbender - but only almost, since the airbenders had been completely wiped out, save for the Avatar.

"Have you found anything of interest yet? All I see is desert and more desert."

[notthatjason]

"Glad to see you got my invitation to meet in the middle of a desert wasteland," Jason replied, trying to appear like the heat wasn't already getting to him. He didn't have a lot in his pack that was helpful in this (or really any) situation. And now he was starting to miss the ridiculous amount of food and drink resources that had been available in the land of sweets.

He shook his head at her question though. "I actually only just got here," Jason admitted. "I was in another zone before--and then I was randomly transported here." He knew that wasn't helpful, but he wasn't going to mislead someone into thinking he had information that he didn't. "Do you know much about surviving in a desert by any chance?"

[onei]

Ina had been starting to get the hang of technology, in the days she'd spent on Legion World before the mission began. She still didn't know the names of most of it, or how most of it worked, but she was getting more familiar. She totally had this. She understood perfectly well that vehicles here didn't need horses to move along.

Still, as she stared at the truck she'd found herself near, it was hard to believe it could really go anywhere. Especially in its current (filthy, rusted, beat up) condition.

She stepped closer, waiting to see if it moved (or more likely, if someone inside it moved), but nothing happened.

A bit closer, close enough to carefully prod into the open window with the end of her bow. Still nothing.

That left her feeling safe enough to grab the door handle, pull it open, and duck inside, examining the grimy seats, the junk piled in the back...the dashboard, which was a whole lot of incomprehensible. "You can move, can't you?" She poked at a few of the buttons (formerly controlling the radio, when it still worked), nudged one of the sticks back and forth (which would've turned on the windshield wipers, had the engine been running). Nothing happened.

"Come on," she hissed under her breath as she hit something else and popped the hood. There had to be some way to get this thing working.

[whyarewehere]

There was a truck sitting there. Not moving. Grif couldn't quite see past the bristling screen of metal that covered most of the windows, but it didn't look like anybody was at the wheel. If someone were, it stood to reason that they'd have the engine running.

Grif looked right.

Grif looked left.

"Dibs!" he shouted as he bolted forward. He aimed to open the passenger's door, slide across, and see if they'd left a key in the ignition (it'd be nice if he didn't have to do it the hard way), but he was stopped short by someone already being in the driver's seat.

Oh.

"Fine, I'll take shotgun," he said. Granted, this was Inahime. She probably didn't know what that meant. "...Don't ask. You know how to drive this thing, right?"

Teaching the technologically-impaired members of the crew how vehicles worked seemed like it would be a high Legion priority to him. Right?

[onei]

"Was there a gun back there? It just looked like a pile of junk to me."

Because what else could he possibly mean by "shotgun."

But that wasn't really the primary concern here, of course. No, the real problem was that - "No. Where does it...turn on?"

The real problem was that this was about to go straight to hell in a handbasket.

≫ kill 'em for all they've got

[fantasmaniac]

Killing any of the half-naked, powdery white Warboys is easy enough. They're too excitable, sloppy, and easily distracted, so he takes them down with ease, using the most silent method possible to avoid attracting too much attention (snapping their necks work). The fact that he's carrying quite a lot of bulk makes this all the more important. He needs a place to put them and a quicker way to transport all this shit, planning on following the group towards the edge of the arena a little ways behind them. He'd come across these stray couple of scouts which he assumed were following the larger group of what he presumed were Legionnaires, and kept to himself to avoid any confrontations.

He swiftly climbs into the death-trap of a machine, covered in all sorts of unsavory decorations– skulls, barbed wire, old stickers and smears of dried blood– with an amused sort of hum. While he could appreciate the decor, he was more of a pitch black and cold steel sort of guy anyway. Blistering heat doesn't effect him much, but a little camouflage doesn't hurt, so he drags a dusty tarp around his shoulders and fits a mask on top of his own...mask. Yeah, look, his trademark Reaper Skull sticks out like a sore thumb and he's pretty sure he saw those armored assholes running around here somewhere.

After situating himself, his belongings thud loudly onto the floor of the vehicle, he tries to feel out the mechanics of this ancient wheeled thing with his claws but... where... how do you start this thing...? There's gotta be keys around here somewhere, but he doesn't have time to look for them now. He can hear footsteps.

[glazedonutholes]

Footsteps of a warboy coming back to the armored vehicle, except this shirtless white powdered babe isn't so hairless. Someone being the vain little thing that he is, chose to slick-back his hair with some white mud-like substance that covered up the blond locks.

Sneaking through the area like the trained soldier he is, Donut manages to get on the hunk of metal without being noticed and quickly goes to the driver's side to steal himself a pretty cool looking machine!

[fantasmaniac]

Oh, motherfucker–

He thinks it's another Warboy with how his hair is painted, but his eyes haven't aged that far just yet! Ghosting his way to the passenger side, he makes it look like the items stuck to his person had just fallen away to the wayside from the force of his entry.

Naturally, he thinks about just offing the guy and figuring out he car on his own, but as the rumbling sounds of other war rigs and wheeled vehicles roar to life, he figures he can just let this guy do the work for him. At least for as long enough to get the damn thing started and on its way. Then when the time is right, he'll kick him out of the car and go on his merry way.

At least, that's the plan.

Follow that car!

[jonesiseverywhere]

There's a car rapidly approaching. Casey has a thumb and a head full of steam. He's going to hitchhike his freakin' butt across the murder-desert. Which would be way cooler if he wasn't supposed be the one doing the killing.

Here comes the car, out comes his thumb and...He nearly gets squashed. He's lived too long in New York to not recognize when a guy is deliberately swerving to hit someone so he dodges, diving out of the way and hitting the dirt. From the cab, the warboy dude laughs at him.

He's probably going to get someone killed. It's Speed Demon all over again, only he doesn't have a hot rod...but there's another car coming. Casey makes a jump for it, doesn't even think, barely looks, loops an arm into the open window and planting his feet on the little step up to the driver's side.

"Hey, follow that car!"

[whyarewehere]

Grif startles but manages not to jerk the wheel around when Casey jumps on. He processes that it's Casey, he knows who Casey is, and presumably Casey is on his side. That makes this totally fine.

"Hold on!" he replies and obliges, the car snarls on in the tracks of the mercenary vehicle.

"I sure hope you got a plan!"

Think things through? Grif? Nah. He'll pass that buck. He suspects the plan is going to involve hitting things, and that's fine with him.

[jonesiseverywhere]

Casey tosses all the stuff he doesn't need to hold into the cab, clinging to the door. It's this guy! He knows this guy and he's cool and everything's cool.

"Only plan I need is right-Gah!"

He meant to pull out one of his hockey sticks and wave it around to punctuate that statement but it turns out it's kind of hard to do that while he's holding on to a rapidly moving car and his hand sort of slips a little. He recovers but...the moment is lost. "I'm gonna hit him!"

At least this guy is totally on Casey's wavelength. He tells Grif to get into a high speed chase with a dangerous psycho and he's like 'OK.'

For Nick

[the_fuzz]

"I wonder if Arcade has ever heard of originality. Because shoving the set of a Mad Marsupial movie into a Howling Games ripoff isn't it." Judy complained as she and her partner trudged through the sandy wasteland.

At least the academy and the Sahara Square beat had prepped them for this, if only barely. They were still in trouble if they couldn't find a source of water and shade soon. They didn't dehydrate through sweating, but by the same token they couldn't cool themselves down that way either.

Grif

[whyarewehere]

((He doesn't have his armor, the car icons just demand use.))
[A]
"...So basically what I'm saying is: fucking dinosaurs, man." That's how Grif finishes what has been a wordy, scientifically inaccurate, and fairly whiny complaint. He shoots a venomous scowl out the windshield at a flock of spearodactyls circling overhead. One of them has just crapped on the hood of this battle car, and it's only the roof that's saved the occupants from getting divebombed. Probably. One thumps off it experimentally every now and then, making Grif jump.

"I almost miss the dudes shooting at us, Jesus Christ. Are we there yet?"

[B]
There are a pack of warboys on motorcycles out here. Instead of zooming in to harass, they skirted the range of the convoy's guns and just kept rolling, intent on some distant point. That was the first sign that something might be up. Grif peeled off from the column to see what they were after, and he's got his answer. They're bearing down on somebody, somebody who's still stuck on foot, and this is not going to end well.

The car's engine snarls as Grif floors it to catch up, and as he gets closer to the wheeling bikes he lays on the horn. They scatter like vultures from a carcass as Grif's battle car dives through, striking one back wheel and sending the rider spinning in the dirt. He swings the vehicle into a long, skidding halt alongside the other Legionnaire. They can't stay like this for long, the bikes are already reconvening.

"Get on the gun!" Grif yells, flinging one arm back toward the big, ugly machine gun poking up out of where the car's trunk should be. They're going to need it.

[C]
A slew of hostile cars and rigs popped up out of the desert out of nowhere (probably Arcade's doing) and the Legionnaire column has been broken in the ensuing car fight.

"I can get us on top of that!"

Grif has to yell to be heard over the gunfire as he points at the biggest enemy rig. It's a forbidding titan of rusted metal with a sloping ram on its front, designed to slam into another vehicle and flip it over.

"I can do it!" Grif repeats. He knows how. He has an idea.

Anybody in the car or on the gun should probably hold onto something real tight right about now.

A 1/2

[glazedonutholes]

From the backseat: "If you want to spice things up we can always sit on each other's laps just like we did in our last road trip!" You just had to complain didn't you Grif. "Remember when you had to change gears and you accidenta--"

A | 2/2

[glazedonutholes]

"WAAAH!"

They hit a rather large bump in the 'road' which has Donut rolling in the back seat effectively cutting him off in favor of grabbing onto something for dear life!

[whyarewehere]

It's entirely possible that Grif, because he's Grif, hit that bump on purpose. He doesn't seem surprised by it, at any rate.

"The seating in this thing is definitely an upgrade," he says. "Sarge never appreciated the good things in life. You know. Like personal space."

The War Boy

[glazedonutholes]

Look out behind you because there's a war boy on a bike heading your way. Aim your flame throwers, cock your guns, but for the love of god don't shoot!

"Heeeey Guuuys!"

Or maybe you should? Either way, this shirtless 'warboy' has an invisible shield up that even a rocket launcher can't get through, so go ahead, shoot him down just be ready for the inevitable - "Hey! That's not very nice!" - response instead of the silver grin as he drives up beside you, and is that make-up?!

"Fancy Meeting You Here~"

Yup! Sure is~ Don't even ask where he found it, but you'd be surprised what kinds of things a guy with rad skills and a pretty good make-up kit can do! Just ignore that this white powdered babe isn't so hairless. Someone being the vain little thing that he is, chose to slick-back his hair with some white mud-like substance--shhhh! he didn't want to shave his head he's vain like that--that covered up the blond locks.

Dipper and Mabel's guide to (a lack of) teen driving safety - OPEN

[bleventeen]

One of the bikes zipping into the fray is being driven by what appear to be two demonic lumps of various materials. The much cuter figure is steering, while the other is working the shifter. The bike weaves around several of the warboys, and seems like it might topple over a couple of times. Through sheer luck, most likely, it stays upright though, and eventually pulls up alongside one of the large rigs.

The steering lump is trying to simultaneously hold the handlebars steady AND reach into her bag for something. It's... Not going that well.

(If you want to start a thread with the twins, comment under this comment to start one

[captainbuzzkill]

A. Closed to Wash

Thing Number Two Demonic Lump Number Two reaches around and takes over holding onto the handlebars while Demonic Lump Number One looks for...whatever is in the bag.

But that doesn't work out so well for them, because other Warboy motorcyclists are practically swarming around them now. One of the Warboys throws a thunderstick and glowing blue tendrils (possibly familiar to some) whip out from Demonic Lump Number Two and throw it back at one of the motorcycles in pursuit. It explodes and the Warboy driver and passenger go rolling off into the sands -- it's uncertain if they're dead or just injured.

The two Lumps are surrounded, though, so Lump Two steers the cycle towards the nearest Legionnaire controlled war rig. That's when one of the War Boys in pursuit pulls out a rocket launcher. Just before the rocket hits the motorcycle, the same blue telekinetic tendrils wrap around both Lumps and swing them -- and their bags -- onto the Legion-controlled war rig. They escape the explosion just in time.

If fighting with the War boys hadn't already made it obvious that they're Legionnaires, the Lumps taking their masks off does. Dipper and Mabel's faces are sandy and painted up with war paint. Dipper's hat is long gone and the wind keeps whipping his floofy hair out of his face, revealing the Big Dipper-shaped birthmark he's nicknamed after. Even though this is Day 1 one of the arena, the twins already look like they've wandered the wasteland for ages.

"So what's the plan?" asks Dipper. "Somebody has a plan, right? We're not just all careening along in a ragtag convoy hoping we can randomly break through the outer wall or something."

B. Open to all

The twins stick to each other like glue as they wander around the convoy, jumping from vehicle to vehicle to help out their teammates. They look like they've adapted to the arena almost a little too well; their dusty faces are painted with warpaint and they're wearing gear stolen from Warboys.

"Hi!" It's a little too chirpy for what's ostensibly a life or death battle, but this apocalyptic wasteland is comparatively better than others they've dealt with. "We're here to help with those explosive death spears. Or whatever."

It's not like they're even sure of what they can use their powers for. Truck-top battles are a new one.

A

[unrecovered]

Wash is on top of the rig, holding on with one hand and surveying the landscape. It's kind of an awful position without goggles, but he'll survive. He's got an eye on the two Lumps fast approaching on a motorcycle, though they sure don't look skilled with it. They're also fighting the War boys, and that power is familiar-

Yeah, the unmasking isn't exactly a surprise.

"Congratulations, Dipper," he says wryly, "you've just figured out the plan. Now-" He catches something moving in their periphery. Projectiles- shit- "Get down!" He puts one hand on Mabel's shoulder and the other on Dipper's and forces them down, dropping to one knee himself and hunkering down just in time to see a thunderstick go sailing overhead. Either he would've caught that in the chest or one of the kids would've taken it in the head; either way, it's not anywhere near safe up here.

[prettycoolguy]

[A]
The rig rocks a little as something lands on it or, more accurately, as someone climbs up the side of it. The rig's mirrors didn't show any other approaching vehicles, but the blindspots on this thing are incredible. Where did it come from?

One of the passenger side doors is wrenched open and then- Oh.

It's another Legionnaire. The Chief hadn't realized.

"Going my way?" he asks as he pulls himself up into the cab.

[B]
The convoy has stopped briefly, war rigs forming a semi circle to guard one end of an oasis. There just aren't enough of them to surround the thing. They can't stay here long, but nobody has water and they're filling up any containers they can find because there's no telling when they'll get another chance.

For his part, the Chief's taking a turn patrolling along the backs of the convoy's war rigs, watching for trouble.

It's quiet. He doesn't trust quiet.

…He could probably use some water, though.

[C]
The Chief's not a designated driver. He's big and doesn't fit well behind the wheel of most of these things. Instead, he's spending a lot of time up on top. As long as the vehicles stay relatively close to each other, he has good mobility up and down the convoy line just running on roofs. He's one of the group's more dangerous brawlers, and he can give enemy polecats a hell of a day. It's enough to make a guy miss his magnetic boots a bit, though.

He's just finished knocking a pair of war boys off this truck when he notices that the wind has picked up. That's… weird.

He turns.

That sure is a wall of flying sand on that horizon.

The Chief scrambles down the far side of the rig and doesn't ask permission to haul himself inside.

"Lock everything," he says. "Now."