INTRO 001: BEGIN

[706mod]

INTRO 001
NAVIGATION
⩕ ARRIVAL

It’s arrival time. Or is it? For some, this situation seems eerily familiar. In fact, this has happened before, you are sure of it. The voice makes the announcement and the door rolls open. You hear the frightened voice and it begins again.

There might be memories of this place but things will seem… off. As if walls are a slightly different colour, corners a bit sharper, the door handles a bit higher. If you explore the rooms of interest you will find a few things have changed.

The cooler with the tongue is now gone, and in its place a locked door with a strange device placed next to it. It looks like an intercom. The yellow message on the wall has changed, it now reads:

There’s sunshine, daisies, and tulips too
Just remember that when you’re feeling blue ☺

The writing is clearly different than the previous message.

The room with the tube is mostly the same, except the rusted cabinets are now shiny and brand new. The tube’s liquid is now dripping a rust colour fluid.

Any items collected will be somewhere nearby.

⩕ ODE TO BEVERLY

After exploring the new (?) developments something strange is now happening throughout the complex’s floor. A shrill crying. It sounds hysterical.

It leads you to the bathroom with the shattered glass. The sound is coming from the drain of a sink.

There’s broken words, too jumbled to really understand. But the hello from earlier? Definitely the same voice.

As your face nears the sink suddenly long black hair springs from the drain, shooting up and strangling and snaring any bit of you it can. The more you struggle the more it becomes aggressive, cutting in to your skin, peeling away flesh. All the while the shrieking and wailing grows to thunderous levels.

The only way to escape is with outside help. But your rescuer has to be careful not to also get caught.

The hair or whatever it may be seems intent on blood.

⩕ THE CHASM (PART ONE)

Some of you might have escaped the hair with most of your important parts in place. But any open wounds will freely flow blood and not seem to want to staunch. Any materials found seem to be useless in treating the cuts. And when your droplets of blood hits the ground it hisses as if like acid and then unexpectedly the floor around it cracks into a hairline split. The more blood that is dropped the more the cracks appear.

Throughout the following days and nights the cracks randomly split wider and deeper.

Investigating further you will notice that the same nausea you might have experienced before is now back-- and wait! Did you just see a pair of eyes inside those fissures?

Somehow you know in your gut that the only way to stop the progression of the splits is to drop more blood in to it, but not your own. In fact, this idea takes hold despite your better judgement. It is a compulsion. Better find a willing volunteer or perhaps it will come down to a fight.


⩕ HELLO GOD? IT'S ME 7░ ░

Something odd happens many hours in to your stay. Those of you who have found a walkie will receive a broadcast. It is a man speaking. It sounds like an old recording. Soft conversation is happening in the background overlaid with a hum of machinery.

Obviously I am a man of logic. In this day and age how could someone not be? Our primitive instincts are only a tool for survival so our higher minds can concentrate on things like advancement and discovery. This a belief everyone should have. Or isn’t it? It frustrates me that few are on this level of thinking. Too many are preoccupied with that in which cannot be seen. What cannot be hooked in to.

His voice then says your number. You are certain that you have never met this person, but he definitely just addressed you specifically.

I know you are reasonable. Tell me what you believe in? In this moment, what do you believe?

As you answer, you get the distinct impression that the entire complex stills to listen. But whatever frequency he was using is now dead. The question seems to be one to ask one another, broadcasted far and wide.

⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕

⩕ The Chasm will continue to grow throughout the next month. It becomes more and more cumbersome to navigate but the blood does seem to help to keep it at bay.

Comments

QUESTIONS

[706mod]

⩕ EXPLOARTION

[706mod]

For anything that inspires curiosity in your characters. There are no new notable items at the moment.

[sweariff]

Those filing cabinets stick out like a sore thumb, same with the weird rust-colored liquid dripping from the tube. Only the cabinets don't immediately stick out as potentially dangerous, so Bigby goes to investigate them first, checking to see if they're locked. If they are, he'll attempt to force them open, first by pulling on the handle as hard as he can, then by giving the unit itself a nice solid kick if that doesn't work.

[juddas]

If open wounds will freely flow blood and not seem to want to staunch with any materials found being useless, is it possible for characters to bleed much more than they usually would without dying of blood loss?

[freightcars]

ode to beverly;

[ Everything's a mess; everything's a damn mess. He feels like rubber bands pulled too far, stretched out, twisted up, wrapped around himself, his mind's in three places all at once. He's been here before, he thinks - no, he knows, he's been here before with... someone. A friend. He's been here before a couple dozen times, in a chair, starting over fresh, because every time he wakes up they take his mind and-

No, that's not here, that's not now, the walls are a different color.

He holds it together externally, it seems. He's always been good at compartmentalizing, because other than the small fraction of his mind that's struggling and twisting, the rest of him seems composed. Seems neutral, apathetic almost, cold and calculated as he picks his way through the halls, fingers trailing along the walls, fingernails scratching absently into the paint and rust.

The sounds of a struggle lead him to the bathroom; someone is bent over the sink, someone is screaming, someone is a tangle of hair and blood. Bucky snaps into action with seemingly no regard for his own personal wellbeing. He's fling fists and gripping hands, tugging, pulling, breaking strands of hair to pull the victim free. ]

It's okay- it's okay- I'm not gonna hurt you, we gotta stop the bleeding, okay? Take a breath-

are you there god?

[ He's given up on crawling the hallways looking for answers, he's given up on searching and instead opted to finally, finally rest. He settles at the end of a seemingly innocuous hallway at random, back against the wall, head slumped back and eyes closed.

Breathing.

Until a voice comes from his pocket so loud and so abrupt that he nearly spasms, fumbling to pull the walkie talkie out and stare at it in disbelief. A man talks, and he listens. A man mutters, and for no discernible reason he can feel his blood pressure start to rise. He can hear pounding in his ears, he can feel pulse pressure anywhere he concentrates on.

For a long moment, he's silent after the question. Finally, the gears in his mind start spinning again. He presses the 'talk' button.

Hesitates, and begins to speak. ]

I believe my instinct is to pull you apart. I think... if I find you, I think I'm gonna break you into a million pieces. I think you're tryin' to make us go crazy, and I-

[ A pause, his voice faltering, cracked. Tired. ]

I was already crazy anyway, so it's not gonna work. So, I guess- to answer your question- in this moment, I believe I've been through this before, and I can do it again... without breaking, this time. I think you should probably kill me first.

[clawandscars]

Arrival

He's certain of only two facts when he wakes up. One is that he's a wolf named Tsume and the other is that the human illusion he always tries to project somehow is no longer working in this place. When he tries to think of anything else, it's all just a blur in his mind, nothing that makes any concrete sense. He's a bit concerned at the fact he can't pass for human. That had always been his great advantage. Well, it can't be helped.

He when he eventually leaves the box he's been confined to, nothing seems to be making much sense. This place is obviously inside and there's a funny chemical smell to the air. He leaps up on his hind legs, trying to get the door to open, but nothing seems to have any effect on it until the announcement is made.

He starts to wander the halls, nose quivering as he looks for sign that anyone else might be here.

Ode to Beverly

When he hears the crying, Tsume's first reaction is to head towards it. There's a niggling sensation at the back of his mind, like he's heard these sounds being made by someone before. When he reaches the bathroom, his ears swivel forward, trying to pinpoint the sound. When he finds it coming from the sink, he approaches with caution, trying to discern the words he can't quite make out.

Apparently, he doesn't have enough caution, for the hair springs out, wrapping around his front legs and his neck. The only thing that saves him from strangulation right off the bat is the thick, furry folds of skin that all wolves have, which are used to keep from having their throats ripped open in combat. He immediately panics and tries to pull back to escape. But the hair is cutting into his skin now, spilling blood all over the place. Trying to chew through it with his teeth is having little effect.

Panicked, he yells out one strained word. "Help!"

The Chasm

After getting free from the hair, Tsume finds a quiet hallway where he can just sit there and lick his wounds. They don't seem to be clotting the way most normal ones do. It feels strangely familiar to be getting hurt again, like he's done this a lot in his life. Has he? There's that blur where his life should be instead. It really should be more disturbing not to remember than he feels.

As he lies there, licking himself, he notices the floor beginning to crack open wherever the blood hits, but doesn't take much more note of it than that.

As the days progress, he begins to notice it more and more. When he feels himself being watched, a growl comes to his throat. There's something down there. He knows how this can be stopped. But to find someone willing to shed their blood is going to be a problem. Human beings don't really seem to like that sort of thing much.

ode to beverly

[sweariff]

[Whatever's happening, he's been through this before, of that Bigby is certain. The feeling he gets when he hears the sound of panicked crying — too shrill to give him any definite identification insofar as age or gender, but it's not a terribly huge stretch of the imagination to figure it's someone young, maybe even a child — is a little stronger than the usual deja vu he's been feeling as he makes his way through the halls, enough to actually make him think twice about running straight for it. His memory's already shot to hell and back, but if he can recall going through this already, that can't be a good sign — at all.

But it's loud, it's close to screaming, and he's already established that he's not the only one stuck here, so if there really is someone in trouble, maybe even in mortal danger, he just can't risk it. So the choice seems pretty obvious and Bigby takes all of five seconds to make a decision, and even before he really knows what he's doing he's bolting off in the direction of the shrieking. He's always been more of a plan as you go type of person anyway. (He thinks.)

Too bad he hasn't really thought of one in the short time it takes for him to arrive on the scene, such as it is. And because it takes him such a short amount of time to assess the look of things, this would be a really good time to have one.

Alert turns to shock turns to horror. Every detail is processed in quick shutter-snaps, especially the vital ones. There's a wolf — that's the most important one. It's being entangled by what looks like black vines — that's the second one. They're in a bathroom and there's broken shards of what look like glass on the floor — third. And there's a lot of blood.

The wolf is trying to chew through the vines but it's not doing a damn thing, just spilling more blood, and Christ, he needs to do something. A shard of glass twinkles, catching his eye, and Bigby makes a grab for it, trying to grip it without getting his hand slashed open as he dashes towards the wolf.]

Hold still—! [Though it probably most likely definitely won't, but that's not going to stop Bigby from trying to saw through the black tendrils anyway.]

[clawandscars]

[He's still struggling, blunt claws dug deep into the linoleum as the hair continues to try and cut into him. His teeth have managed to slice through a few strands, but it's not nearly enough, and having it in his mouth has only managed to cut the inside of it up.

Something registers in his mind before he can actively understand who or what it is. Then it hits him as Bigby starts to slice at the hair wrapping his left front leg. Human. There's a human there and apparently trying to help him. That fact is almost enough to make him panic more, having a human being this close, but the hair wrapped around his neck trying to choke him doesn't give him a whole lot of options here.

He's still in fight or flight mode as his left leg is freed and then his right. All that's left is his neck. Tsume can feel his vision starting to go black as it becomes hard to breathe. Then the last tendrils part and he's gulping in deep breaths of air again.

He takes a few wary steps back, though there's nowhere to go, so his rump bumps right into the bathroom wall. As he continues to breathe, he notices something. There's his own scent here. But there's another scent here, that of another wolf. But all he sees is a very solidly human being before him...wait. Is he the wolf? How? Tsume doesn't say anything, just stares at Bigby with narrowed golden eyes.]

[sweariff]

[So, turns out he was wrong — they aren't vines, they're strands of hair. Thick black hair, corded like steel with the toughness to match. He doesn't have a clue how the fuck that's even possible, but he's not about to stop and shout questions at the sink, which apparently seems to be where it's coming from. Turns out they're not as durable as they appear, and when he cuts through the first one, there's a snapping sound that really does sound like a vine whipping back, and the thunderous wailing filling the room seems to warble.

Good sign, right?

When the last strand whips back after being cut, it nearly takes some of Bigby's arm off with it. He stumbles back, trips, falls flat on his ass with the shard of glass skittering to the ground somewhere beside him. Then the screaming abruptly ends and he's left in silence.

Well, he and his new friend anyway.

Bigby turns his attention away from the sink after staring at it for a good long while to make sure the hair is really gone, focusing instead on the wolf. For a second, the white noise buzzing in his head settles and there's nothing but curiously comfortable blankness, then

(forest brothers mother)

something just

(I'll see you around...Wolf.)

clicks.

It's like flipping a switch on and giving light to a dark room — not a lot to fill the whole place but enough to make finding your way a little easier. Bigby remembers that he's not human, far, far from it, but it doesn't...bother him. Not as much as it should. That should be alarming, even frightening.

But he doesn't feel either emotion as he stares directly at the wolf, not breaking eye contact as he slowly moves to get his bearings and push himself off the floor, like he knows he has to be careful with the way he moves because anything abrupt or panicky could be construed as a weakness.

Because that's how he would take it, if their positions were reversed.]

[clawandscars]

[There's blood all over Tsume now, the cuts on his legs the worst off, dripping all over the floor. His neck escaped without more than a few superficial cuts, protected by the thick ruff of skin and fur around it. His tongue comes out, licking it off his muzzle. He's stiff-legged, eyes darting as he looks for a way out, but there's only one main entrance, and Bigby's blocking it.

He doesn't like it one bit, this human who smells of nothing but wolf. Tsume can look human when he wants to, but it's just an illusion. There's no solidity to his form, if he brushes up against someone when cloaked as a human, they'll feel fur instead of skin. What he's faced with here is something completely different.

He stares at Bigby for a long moment before he finally speaks, the words not coming directly out of the wolf's muzzle, but more like they're projected right into Bigby's head.]

What are you?

[sweariff]

[Between his newly remembered identity and the horror show he walked in on, there's just way too much to get through here in a tidy order, so Bigby does the sensible thing by focusing on the one thing he can make an immediate difference on: the wolf's injuries. It was tangled up in that hair pretty thoroughly by the time he made it onto the scene, and even though the damage doesn't look incredibly serious from where Bigby's standing, that doesn't mean it'll get better if it's left alone. There's a lot of blood; the wolf's muzzle is wet with it as is the matted fur on its legs. Gotta fix that first and worry about what comes next later.

He's about to say something — something reassuring, he hopes — but the voice in his head beats him to the punch. Bigby's eyes widen and he forgets how to blink for a moment. He should be more alarmed but the first and only thought that comes to mind is that this voice is deep. Male, kind of rough with an edge to it that makes it hard to pinpoint an age. It definitely doesn't match the crying he heard out in the hallway, which further confirms that things are way past fucked, as if he really needed more of a reason to think so.

Right. Okay. That's a reasonable question. So...what's a reasonable answer?]

A friend. [Well, that. He should not sound this candid considering he's talking to a voice in his head, but hey, when in Rome. Being blunt suits the look he's keeping level with the wolf anyhow.] My name's Bigby.

[And, noticing the telltale sign of a fight-or-flight reflex kicking in, he adds evenly:]

You don't have to be afraid of me. I came to help, and that's what I want to keep doing.

[clawandscars]

[Tsume doesn't feel convinced that he can trust Bigby, let alone call him a friend. You are a weird creature, wolf-smelling human. For some reason, he doesn't like the word friend. It makes him feel lonely and sad, like perhaps he hasn't had many in his life. That's not good for a wolf. Wolves need a pack to function properly.

There's a proper look of skepticism on his furry face like he doesn't believe Bigby at all. He'd leave if he wasn't bleeding all over the floor like a stuck pig. He sound stubborn as he says:]

I can take care of myself.

[He can, but in this case, he really shouldn't have to. Having a pair of hands to help staunch the blood flow is going to be a lot better than just using his tongue to lick them clean.]

[sweariff]

[Should've seen that coming. Obviously he's not talking to an idiot here; he must be able to pick up that Bigby isn't human, likely by scent. He can't really blame the other for being hostile but that doesn't mean he has to like it.]

...Seriously? You're bleeding all over the place.

[Stubbornness isn't going to win his pal any points, but Bigby at least makes an effort not to sound TOO aggressive even though he has a feeling he's going to be shot down no matter what.

He doesn't have anything on hand to dress those wounds, unless...

His eyes drop to the hem of his shirt and a lightbulb goes off. This being the same material hospital scrubs are made from, it doesn't take much to tear into the fabric, which does does starting with the bottom of his shirt. He gets a long but not very thick strip out of it. Not much but better than nothing. Then he starts doing the same with the bottom of his pant legs.]

Looks like your legs took the worst of it. Gotta get those taken care of first. [As he rips off another strip:] How's your neck?

[sweariff]

How much of the facility is open for exploration? The location page mentioned places like the cafeteria are available from the start, but what about everything outside? Can characters leave the main building or are they locked in for now?

[laving]

ODE TO BEVERLY ▮

There was something terrifying about being in an unknown place, not being aware of what was truly going on and who you really were. Yuuki's memories were still a faded blur, only small snippets coming through to her. She remembered her name, something about children calling her 'mother', and something about being afraid of vampires.

She made her way through the building, careful to what was going on. Everything felt too cold for her, an odd sensation. It was as if she hadn't felt this way in years (over 985 years to be exact), and it made her nervous. The only thing that made her stop was the sound of a loud cry, one that pierced her ears. She followed the sound, eventually finding her way to the bathroom.

With nothing inside the bathroom, she took a look around before standing before the sink. In front of the mirror she took a look at her reflection, opening her mouth. There was something that was suppose to be there, something was missing from her teeth. 'Fangs', she thought, the memory of having fangs coming through. 'But why?'

Distracted by that small memory, she hadn't realized she had bent down closer to the sink, hairs gently creeping up towards her. When she finally noticed them, they wrapped themselves around her neck, shoulders, and arms, slamming her down into the floor.

On the floor she struggled to pull away from them, her body weak like a sick person. This wasn't normal for her- she recalled being stronger than this. She wasn't though, and the more she struggled the more the hairs wrapped themselves around her. She grunted and moaned, trying to pull away from them, only for them to cut into her skin, specifically her neck.

"Help! Somebody help me!", she cried out, her hand reaching for the bathroom door. She kicked her feet against the floor, droplets of blood beginning to pool under her. Her face, neck, shoulders, and arms were covered in cuts in various sizes.

Whoever walked in would see Yuuki struggling, reaching for their feet in desperation.

THE CHASM (PART ONE) ▮

After what seemed like hours of struggling and endless torture, Yuuki eventually managed to escape the grasp of the hairs. She made her way through the building once more, stumbling and sometimes even falling in the process. She tried to use the wall as support as much as possible, leaving behind a trail of hissing blood. She felt so weak, so useless to stop all of this. It was if there was some strange being out there punishing her for whatever it was she had done wrong.

With thoughts of despair filling her mind, she eventually gave up, falling down against the wall. Yuuki remained still, her head hung down. After a few moments of rest she began to notice the cuts on her arms and hands. They lured her in so easily and after staring at them for a few moments she couldn't believe it-

they were staring right back at her.

This caused her to gasp in shock, turning her head away from her body quickly. She stared forward, breathing deeply and heavily. Her small chest rose up and down in unison to her breathing. As she remained there, shocked to say the least, something came to mind. She needed blood, lots of it. She finally remembered she was a vampire and she could heal herself- though her wounds weren't healing. They should have healed by now, but perhaps she needed blood, yes. Her thought process wasn't clear and she was acting upon desperation. Any sane person would have realized easily that without fangs she couldn't drink blood, therefore rending her human.

Still she wasn't in a state to think rationally. Instead she rose up, blood lust giving her energy anew. She made her way forward, her eyes dark with desire. She knew she would risk turning others into a vampire but she didn't care (nor was the risk real)- she was going to get blood.

Whoever happened to come her way would be lightly touched her, her blood filled arms wrapping themselves around the person. Her voice was soft and gentle, nearly seductive. "I need your help", she would say, slowly seducing anyone who would let themselves.

[clawandscars]

[His ears flatten to the back of his head when Bigby comes near him, but he doesn't snap at him. Tsume's got the natural instinctual caution and wariness of an animal, but he's not stupid. He stays still to allow Bigby to bandage him up.

His neck stings with the cuts on his neck, but they're not serious. There's a curious itching sensation on the back of his neck too, like he'd been stung by something many times.]

Could be worse.

[The cuts on his neck are bleeding more than they should for such shallow injuries. In fact, it doesn't seem like any of his injuries are clotting as they should. They just keep oozing out blood.]

[sweariff]

[Relieved that he doesn't have to press the issue any further, Bigby gets to work right away. On closer inspection, it looks like the cuts on the wolf's neck are more surface level than anything else, which means he doesn't have to waste his little makeshift bandages on them. It's his legs that are really concerning.]

Yeah, well, it could be a whole lot better, too. These are deeper than I thought. [And it doesn't look like the bleeding's going to stop anytime soon, what with the way dark red immediately starts blooming and soaking through the first cloth strip once Bigby finishes with tying it around the lower part of the wolf's left forearm.] ...This'll have to cut it until we find something better.

[He hopes.]

Wanna tell me how this happened or at least give me a name?

[706mod]

Yes, they will bleed a lot more than an average person but they will still suffer the symptoms of extreme blood loss. If the wound is severe/large enough it can result in death if you chose to go that way! Otherwise, a character might consider donating to the Chasm.

[706mod]

For now they are locked in. You are free to assume there are some generic and uninteresting rooms available if your character wants a space to rest or have private conversation.

[706mod]

They are locked and forcing the handle does not do anything, however the kick certainly does! The cabinet now has a dent and if Bigby is observant enough he might notice that the dent is in the shape of the rust on the cabinet last time (?) he was there. The drawer is now ajar and inside are a few notes. It looks like vacationing pictures, none of them are of people, just random land marks and vegetation. There is a small note that says "Please think of me when you see these! They made me so speechless." in red sharpie.

[sweariff]

The indentation now gracing the side of the cabinet catches Bigby's attention for longer than it should. There's something...familiar about it, he's not sure what, but it definitely reminds him of something he's seen before; not from back home, but here, in this building.

It's the same with the red handwriting on the note, which he picks up once he's finished flipping through the pictures. Could this be anything like the ink from before that wouldn't wash off? To test this, he runs the pad of a finger over the message, trying to see if it'll have the same effect as before.

are you there god?

[sweariff]

[What do you believe in? Bigby feels like he's being goaded, just hearing that from a voice he doesn't recognize and has no reason to believe is here to help in any way, just going by what he's saying. He considers the question for half a moment before pressing the talk button on his walkie, ready to give the stranger a piece of his mind—

Before another, different voice cuts in. And...wow. Couldn't have said it better himself, honestly.]

You took the words right out of my mouth. [There's the barest impression of a smile in his voice, dry and humorless as it may be.]

[freightcars]

[ It's almost as startling the second time around, hearing a stranger's voice cut through the silence from his tinny speaker. He takes a moment to furrow his brow, to consider the implications of answering. It might seem, for a second, like Bigby isn't going to get a response.

And then he does. ]

You're not the same guy. You with them?

[sweariff]

[Just when he starts thinking that this thing is broken, or it's another trick and he's talking to dead air, the voice returns and Bigby is this close to breathing a sigh of relief.]

Nope. Gonna throw myself out here on a limb and take a wild guess that you woke up in a box too.

[freightcars]

[ There's a much shorter pause this time, as though he's not debating whether or not to answer but rather what to say. ]

Yeah. Feels like- [ A beat. ] Feels like not the first time.