lifeaftr | October Intro: Louder than Sirens, Louder than Bells

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October Intro: Louder than Sirens, Louder than Bells

INTRO LOG: OCTOBER

Who: Everyone!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: October 3rd
Where: Ensō
Warnings: Mark as needed!

The Beach: For All the Rest
The shores of Ensō are far from the tranquil, almost idyllic tropical backdrop that they should be. And so it is that while you fish, or perhaps as you go about your daily business on the islets, the first thing you will note is the persistent sound hammering at the back of your skull.

A drumming.

And it's growing louder.

The source of the drumming will, like it or not, soon become apparent. At the fringes of the trees, wielding slings and hollow, wooden pistols, is a group of large and very displeased simians who have every intent of claiming this spot of beach - yes, traveler, this spot of beach you're standing on right now! - for their own, and by any means necessary.

And they certainly don't look interested in diplomacy.

If you came armed, you might be in luck, because this conflict will require your steady hand in its resolution. If you did not...well, you may be better suited to run, or risk capture at the hands of warriors skilled, cunning, and incredibly vicious. Laugh at their monkey business all you like; they are ingenious fighters and, what's more, they're just as good at killing as they are at capture.

For the uninitiated, this particular brand of chaos doesn't usually sweep across the entire island the way it has. But those who have been here for some time will recognize the monkeys in question, and might even recognize this for what it is: revenge.

Group I: The Squeakquel
Looks like your monkeying around last month has landed you and everyone else in a spot of trouble. The monkeys in question certainly weren't happy to be confronted with others on their lands, nor are they willing to share their territory. While you may have triumphed last time you confronted them, the apes have been planning their revenge in the meantime.

Some of you were unlucky enough to become targets. Overnight, a great deal of them silently invaded the islets. Their blow-dart guns are equipped with a fairly powerful sedative that is more than capable of knocking most living creatures out - and those that were immune were simply snatched up, gagged, and bundled away.

However, it seems that some of their prisoners didn't suit their purposes, for one way or another, and thus weren't retrieved with the intention of long-term capture. Which is why a number of you will awaken in regions of the island that you've already explored.

...the really, really dangerous ones.

Whether it's a Center of Gravity, a parade of centipuppies, a contingent of Lungblossoms, a Fustercluck, or something else entirely, one thing is certain: the monkeys wanted you out of their way.

So get ready to fight for your life.

Group II: Ape Escape
If you're not one of the slightly luckier newcomers that materializes on the shore, then you're one of the unlucky ones that's managed to materialize square in the middle of the jungle. Or rather, in the middle of one of the denser, more populated parts of the jungle. The abodes woven into the canopy are crude, built of mud and sticks, but they're nonetheless sturdy.

And, as an important note - they are also swarming with monkeys. Snarling, baying, armed monkeys. Perhaps they'd be more hostile toward an interloper...if you weren't already in a cage, along with several others.

Fortunately for the newbies, they've all got something the monkeys didn't anticipate, aside from the element of surprise. Most prisoners don't arrive with knapsacks full of newly-acquired gear, and it's a good thing, too - you may very well need it, and the help of the new arrivals, to escape this place. You could always wait for the cavalry to come, but are you really willing to take that risk?

Group III: Pot Luck
As for you, you terribly fortunate third group?

You'll find yourselves suspended in wooden cages as well, though this time, to the hot curtain of whitish steam clouding your vision. It smells an awful lot like smoke down there. An awful lot like something...burning? Unlike your fellows over in the second group, these cages aren't simply a means of containing you, no. These cages are currently hanging over what might be the largest cast iron cauldron you've ever seen. All of this is, of course, for one simple reason:

Some species of monkeys are carnivores.

The acrid scent of smoke is already hot and rancid in your nostrils; the pyre beneath you has been lit, and the hungry flames are beginning to boil the water below quite eagerly. We'd suggest you hurry up in freeing yourself and your fellows - being boiled alive is not a particularly pleasant way to go. At least the monkeys weren't expecting quite so many main courses so soon, which allows you the element of surprise.

As a final note to those who participated in the Test Drive Meme, bear in mind that those threads, if all parties involved would like, can be game canon in the form of dream-like memories involving a place very much like this one, though the layout is considerably different.

All new arrivals will awake with knapsacks with their names stitched to the front. The contents of said knapsacks can be found below!

Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the Locations Page, which has details regarding the starting areas and a handy map for those who feel better with a bird's eye view!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

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It's not immediate, but Pharah does eventually sense that she's being followed. She's been through too much training and too many battles not to take notice when her senses raise the hairs on the back of her neck. There are things that the body realizes long before the brain does. She doesn't stop, but she does listen for the telltale signs that she's not just being paranoid.

She's not meant for stealth, not in terrain like this, and not when there's layers of limitations on what she can do. There's no way to double back or try to conceal herself to turn the hunter into the prey. So instead, she slows her pace to a stop, taking what might seem like a break.

The water jug is fished out of the satchel tied at her waist. The rocket launcher is balanced in the crook of her arm as she lifts her visor and takes a swig.

Gobbet's gotta admit, this tailing people thing is really freaking boring. It looks way cooler in the trids - foggy streets and shady detectives weaving in and out of alleyways, each aware of the other but neither willing to give up the game. This is just making her sweaty and nervous. Especially when her mark slows to a stop.

They're still headed the same way, unfortunately. Damn it, she really doesn't want to confront this person. If they turn out to be hostile, she knows she'll be on the losing end of a fight. If only she had the patience for persuasion and bribery...

Focus, Gobbet. Look for a way around. There are plenty of trees that should be easy enough for her to climb; maybe she could take the high road. Can't climb with a spear in her hands, unfortunately. The primitive weapon won't fit in the knapsack, but she manages to thread it through the straps and lets the weight of the pack hold it to her back.

She moves slowly towards the nearest tree, trying not to rustle too much foliage and letting the sounds of tropical birds and buzzing insects cover her footsteps. When she reaches the base of the tree, she starts to climb as slowly and deliberately as possible. God what a pain. Why can't this walking tin suit just take a left or something?

They don't attack head-on--and they're much too quiet to be anyone with sizeable presence or weaponry. But that doesn't mean they're not dangerous. Pharah waits a few more seconds before putting the cap on the jug of water and stowing it back in the satchel. The rocket launcher is back in her hands again, but she doesn't continue walking. Instead, she calls back towards where she expects this mysterious stalker to be.

"Planning on showing yourself any time soon?"

"Not really, no." Gobbet calls from the low branch she's perched on. "Way to ruin my plans, Birdie."(Another spur-of-the-moment nickname, another probable insult. All in a day's work.)

Well, no use trying to sneak around now. She drops down to ground level with a soft thud, reaching for her spear just in case. Sure it won't pierce armor and could be seen as an act of aggression, but why take chances, you know?

"Look, I just want to get to those pillars over there." She jabs a finger towards the ruins. "Please don't tell me you want to fight me."

Birdie. That's not a nickname that she expects to hear, though it rolls off her back easily. It's fortunate for her that Pharah is not particularly sensitive or flappable.

"Name's Pharah." That's her callsign, anyway. It's good enough for now. "I don't intend to fight you, so long as you don't attack me." The rocket launcher is lifted into a resting position, barrel pointed straight up at the sky. She doesn't see a spear as a serious threat at the moment, but she could have it ready again at a moment's notice.

"If you're going to the temple, we can travel together. There's no need to follow me."

"Look, I just got out of a very sticky situation involving bloodthirsty monkeys and boiling water. You'll have to forgive me for not wanting to engage the first thing I see on my way out."

Gobbet frowns, looking Pharah over. Yeah, this person could tackle more monkeys if they came pouring out of the trees. Gobbet is fresh out of energy for spell-slinging and she knows it. Traveling together wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. There's safety in numbers, after all.

"Were you part of that clusterfuck, too?"

"You could say that." Waking up suspended over a pot of boiling water probably counts as being 'involved in that clusterfuck'. As does the aftermath of fighting monkeys and breaking people out of their cages.

"If we're going to be traveling together, you should give me your name. Or some means to call you by."

"Gobbet. Rat shaman and shadowrunner extraordinaire. Been here a grand total of thirty minutes and already almost got myself eaten."

It has probably, in all honesty, been longer than thirty minutes. Time kind of gets blurred together and jumbled around when you're running for your life and slinging spells to cover your ass. But Gobbet thinks it's important to make it clear that she just got here and has no idea what she's doing. She's not in charge, she's not well connected, she's not on anyone's good or bad list, she's just here. In a few days' time she could be all of those things, sure. For now, however, she is painfully aware of how vulnerable she is.

Having that rocket launcher of her side would be invaluable.

"Ruins should be just a little north of here."

Gobbet. Pharah files the name of her companion away, along with the professions 'rat shaman' and 'shadowrunner'. And her skepticism along with it.

Well, maybe not all of her skepticism. Even as she gestures for them to start walking, even as she makes sure to set a pace that keeps Gobbet beside her--not in front or behind, she can't help but wonder what that kind of title actually entails.

Eventually, she has to ask: "What is a rat shaman?"

"A shaman that follows the totem Rat, obviously." Gobbet says, matter-of-factly. She's mostly teasing. It's becoming clear to her that not everyone is from the same reality here - she's not in the sixth world anymore. "I draw magical powers from an animal totem. My totem is Rat. She keeps my on my toes and safe for the most part. Don't think she exists here, but I can still use my magic so it's fine."

It felt weird, not feeling Rat pulling at her gut in moments of danger. There was no beady-eyed trance to fall into when she needed to know where to go. There was a weakness to her spells, a limit to her magical stamina. But the truth was that Rat was with her so often for so long that a lot of things like scouting, sneaking, and thieving were still alive and well in Gobbet.

"What about you? What do you do?"

Magic. Pharah wrinkles her nose a little bit, but she's not judging. Just because she doesn't understand something doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. There's a lot of strange things that happen in her world. It's better to just take them all at face value. If Gobbet can cast spells, then it doesn't matter if Pharah believes she can or not.

"I work for a security firm. My team is sent in when they don't want anything coming back out." That probably sums up her occupation without any extraneous details.

"Yeah, I've been on a few runs like that."

Most runs were more about thieving than slaughtering, but clean ups weren't all that uncommon. But she hangs up a little on the term 'security firm'. Private security was something Gobbet was intimately familiar with. If Pharah was in the same vein as Knight Errant, they might not get along so well after all. She decides, ultimately, that she should keep her history with security firms to herself.

Nobody likes to hear the words 'I kill people like you for a living.'

"So you hunt down the baddies specifically or just do whatever pays best?"

"It's not about the pay."

There's something a little unsavory about the way that's phrased, so Pharah answers instead the question that she thinks Gobbet is asking, rather than the one she actually puts forward.

She wouldn't be the first to assume that it's about the pay--Helix Securities does pay well. It's a high-risk, high-reward kind of job. But the pay isn't entirely monetary. There's a sense of pride in her voice as she continues.

"It's about the people that we keep safe. My employer specializes in containment of artifacts that could prove hazardous on a global scale. In effect, we protect the people of the world."

Edited 2017-10-12 02:22 (UTC)

I specialize in liberating those very same artifacts for the wealthy, lady.

Maybe where Pharah is from, money doesn't quite rule the world like it does in Gobbet's universe. Maybe people in her world still had values, hopes, and dreams. Maybe there were still heroes out in some distant corner of the multiverse. Gobbet's world was one where the villains usually won and, if the good guys came out on top, they weren't all that good or the truth would be buried in corporate lies anyway.

The concept of heroism is pretty much restricted to trideo and simsense chips. It's a dead and outdated practice.

"Nice." Is all she can think of to say that won't get her power-bombed into the dirt. Then, after a moment's consideration: "You're pretty proud of what you do, huh? Not a lot of people do things they have the right to be proud of anymore. Good on you."

The praise is met with a bit of a shrug, a motion that's barely noticeable with the weight of the armor. But the corner of her mouth does quirk upwards to a degree. The flattery doesn't go very far with her, but she's still fond of the memories that it invokes.

"Thank you. But there are many things to be proud of. One doesn't have to protect the world to find pride in what they do. So long as you help those who need it--even if it is only one person at a time."

Her thoughts linger specifically on her Captain--and the words that he spoke to her before his death. He who saves one life, it is as if he has saved the world. There are smaller things to take pride in as well, though no less important.

"I guess." She shrugs, looking anywhere but directly at Pharah. "One time, I saved a city and maybe the world from a demon goddess. Other than that, I make a mean soup. Those are pretty much my only points of pride."

It's not like she regrets all the objectively bad things she's done. She really didn't have a choice, after all. When you were SIN-less, you could run the shadows or you could die cold and lonely on the streets of the Walled City. She had grown up in the Walled City and that was enough suffering for a lifetime and a half.

She had also helped plenty of people, but whether or not that was the right thing to do was debatable. That kind of philosophy only worked if you were helping those who were weaker than you climb the ladder of life in some way. What if you helped the powerful become stronger? Or helped the weak bring down the powerful? Her job, and indeed much of her life, was geared towards hurting the structure of society and letting the pieces fall into place afterwards.

In the sixth world, it was a vital role that had to be filled by somebody. She just happened to have a talent for it.

That bit does seem to catch Pharah's attention, at least enough to get Gobbet a second glance and a raise of her brows.

"Saving a city is nothing to sneeze at, much less the world." It's certainly something worth being prideful about, although... there's also something to be said about the lack of other worthy things. Either this woman leads a very mundane life that simply happened to cross paths with a 'demon goddess', or her typical activities fall outside of things she would find pride in.

It crosses her mind just then that she never did ask about her other title. 'Shadowruner' does have a certain unsavory implication--though she doesn't want to jump to conclusions without confirmation.

"I have to admit, though, it does make me wonder how you came across a demon goddess. Is that typical for a rat shaman? Or a shadowrunner?"

"We run across a little bit of everything." Gobbet curls her fingers around a glowing orb of sickly green energy, examines it with a furrowed brow. "But Qian-Ya was unusual, even for our brand of bullshit. They call her 'The Queen With a Thousand Teeth'. No prizes for guessing why."

The orb dissipates with a flick of her wrist. No use wasting magic here. It wasn't strong enough to cast fully, anyway. Just enough to make a little show of it.

"You ever heard of qi?"

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October Intro: Louder than Sirens, Louder than Bells

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