wilderlogs | THE SQUAD DOES AN INTRO

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THE SQUAD DOES AN INTRO - [modplot] [event]

THE SQUAD DOES AN INTRO
OOC POST
In their homeworlds, they suddenly hear water flowing over stone, the wind through the leaves, and the gentle rattling of Kodama. The hushed sound of treetops waving in the breeze lull them to sleep whether they want it to or not, and in what seems like a dream they fall through a tunnel that passes through layers of dirt and roots and then through seemingly endless boughs of trees.

During this impossibly long fall, spirits whisper in their ears. They tell them that they must save the Wilderlands and the Green. They tell them that they will be given the power or weapons to do it - or that they're already strong enough as they are. They tell them that in the times they're not needed, they may find themselves trapped in the faerie realm known as the Brugh, but that the mirrors will let them speak, and the mirrors will let them see.

And they tell them that they're about to become lost in the forest and that there are others like them, just as lost.

When they wake up, they find themselves in the ruins of an abandoned city; the forest has overtaken it, threading new life through the decay, but the green of the leaves and vines pales in contrast with the broken buildings and streets. Every single building in this city was once a vibrant shade of emerald, and even now, after the slow ravages of time, the green ruins glimmer like they're hewn from precious gems.

The only things that aren't that bright shade of emerald are the statues. Countless statues are scattered through the abandoned city, shaped like men and women and children and pets, all dressed in 1900s era Earth-style finery. These figures are extremely intricate, almost too detailed to be believably carved by a human hand. Many of them are smashed and broken.

Some of the statues don't look human. Among the humans are little beings shaped like china dolls that are made of stone like the rest, instead of porcelain. And in the middle of the city, standing near each other are three strange petrified figures: an axe-wielding man that looks like he was made of metal before being petrified, a man who looks like a human-lion hybrid, and a living scarecrow. All three have expressions of surprise or anger on their faces.

When the characters are brought into this place, the magic that brought them in seems to have trouble getting them all in the same place at first. They find themselves spending brief amounts of time in one spot (sometimes just minutes, sometimes longer) before they're teleported again. Each time they teleport they find themselves near someone new, someone just as lost as them. Those that don't speak the same language may find some difficulties communicating, but over time, the magic of the Wilderlands will kick in, and plant a whole new language in their heads. This magic works faster the more they emotionally connect with other and find understanding without words.

The teleportation keeps zapping them in different places all over the city -- and sometimes outside it, where they can see an abandoned road made of yellow brick that trails off into the distance. Fortunately, the people they keep getting paired off with seem like normal people just like them, and beyond that, they're entirely alone in the ruins.

Probably.

OOC INFO
✦ Post in actionspam format. Plots and mod-run events in the game are meant to be in actionspam format to keep a brisk pace.

✦ Please see the OOC post linked up top for more information about the event.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[One moment they were walking alongside their partner heading out to patrol, and the next it seemed like they'd somehow dozed off on the way and fallen straight into a weird dream, earth and roots and leaves and a voice--

They wake up to so much green they think they must still be sleeping and lay on the ground a bit longer. When they open their eyes again, all the green is still there.

It's...buildings. So many of them, and in such disarray. It takes Phos a moment too long to realize that all that green is trees, too. But the trees are are strange and numerous as the buildings, thick and tall and heavy with leaves like bushes to the point the sky is hard to see in places. Phos picks through the mess of green with awe, beyond confused.

Wherever they are, it sure as hell isn't anywhere on the island.]

Cairngorm? Hey, Cai--

[Their voice chokes off very abruptly as they catch sight of the white figures, and they instinctively stumble behind a tree for cover. They wait for a few moments, mind racing through all the awful possibilities of why there would be Lunarians on the ground here while their partner is missing, but none of them come to investigate all the noise Phos had been making and eventually, Phos peeks back around the trunk of the strange tree.

The figures aren't moving. And at second glance, they don't look like Lunarians. Cautiously, Phos creeps forward, gaining confidence the closer they get without prompting any kind of reaction.

Up close, the white figures definitely aren't Lunarians, but Phos sure as hell can't tell what they are. Some of them are shaped a little weird, and the clothes and hair are as stiff and strange-looking as the figures themselves are. Close inspection reveals that they're stone, but not why they aren't moving. One or two are missing heads, but the damage on the others shouldn't render them immobile. And why are they all the same stone? Phos pokes at the odd, dull stone of one figure's broken arm, disconcerted but concerned.]

Can you hear me? Hey. Hey! What's wrong with you guys? Hellooo?

[Anyone stumbling into the clearing will come across a...pretty bizarre sight. A delicate-looking person in high heels and hot pants prods and shake the statues with golden arms, their mint green hair brilliantly refractive in the sunlight coming through the trees and scattering fractals of tinted light across the scenery. They're speaking in Japanese for some reason, because this clearly wasn't weird enough to begin with.]

((Oh-kay.))

[The hair is...interesting.]

[The short pants would be weird if not for the fact that Kon is often surrounded by people dressing absolutely ridiculously. You don't get shocked at people's wardrobe choices anymore when someone you're friendly with has a boob window.]

[What's genuinely weird is how Phos is talking to the statues, but hey it's been a weird time. Maybe the green person's having an off day too.]

((Buddy, your chances of them answering back range from slim to none.))

[The teen addressing Phos is huge. Tall and extremely muscular.]

Eh?

[The voice draws Phos' attention from the statues, but the person they turn to find is...wow. That build could make them think it was Sensei for a second if not for the so clearly wrong clothes and hair. They gape for a moment at the stranger, thrown by the sudden appearance of someone so unusual.]

What? What did you say?

[None of that had made sense. It sounded like talking, sorta, but...

Suddenly unsure, they step back like they might duck behind the still white figures. Not that they'd really let such an apparently helpless person get hurt in their place, just...they're probably harder than Phos is.]

[Honestly, the only part of it that's genuinely weird to Revan as she rounds the corner is that the shiny person is yelling at statues.]

That's probably not going to work.

[She's only qualifying with the "probably" because what the hell does she know? Maybe the fashion here is for statues to talk and one of them will still have all its circuits functioning.

Unlike Phos, Revan's covered neck to toe by her loose-fitting Jedi robes, the hood pulled up and hiding the fact that her hair is kind of a mess at the best of times and definitely does not refract light.]

[Phos looks over their shoulder to the other person and...that's not a face they know. Or a voice they know. Or even any words they know. What??]

Huh? Who're...?

[Even with so many of the details covered up, the stranger still looks somehow...well. Strange. Of course, the reverse is probably true about them to others. Even ignoring the more obvious strangeness of their hair and arms, therems plenty that might seem kinda off despite their generally human appearance. Skin that seems too weirdly smooth and uniform in color, build almost too thin, hips strangely feminine in contrast with their completely flat chest.

Phos pauses, suddenly unsure, and warily turns to face the stranger properly. Between the completely new scenery and now this, there's just too much weirdness going on. Is this a dream?]

...What's with those clothes?

[They can't imagine dreaming up an outfit like that.]

[If Revan got weirded out every time she ran into a new species, she'd be a nervous wreck, and she looks Phos over with mild curiosity. The circumstances are much stranger than the person, and their language sounds like one of the ones Saber tried on her earlier. Even a minor point of familiarity is somewhere to start.]

Do you know Saber?

[Revan makes sure to enunciate the name clearly.]

[Phos has known less than like thirty people total over the course of three hundred years. Only one of those people was a later addition rather than being around since before their birth. Strangers are extremely unusual..

This one, at least, doesn't appear intent on hurting them and...generally kinda looks like a normal person. So while the uncertainty remains, the wariness fades from their stance slowly. Unfortunately, what takes its place is frustration and a small frown that's bordering on a pout.]

What are you even saying? I don't understand.

[The name certainly seemed no more familiar than any other one of those words. Phos waves a golden arm, as if making absolutely sure she's paying attention to them specifically.]

You are talking to me, right? Hello?

[Hey. Hey. Revan's not the half of this conversation who yells at statues, don't act like she's the one who needs to be kept on track.]

Look, if we just keep talking, eventually something clicks and we start understanding each other.

[She has never met so many people with weird languages she's doesn't even recognize. Still, you can communicate a few things even if you don't understand a word the other is saying. Revan pats herself on the chest and tries for an introduction.]

Revan.

[Nice to meet you, etc.]

[Unfortunately, Phos is not coming from a culture with TV and pop culture and whatnot that might make such gestures universally understood. They frown deeply, staring at the stranger like that will make anything they said make more sense, and then with a heavy, dramatic sigh, they drop to sit in the grass and cover their face in frustration.]

I said I don't understand!

[Well. It might not translate, but the whiny tone probably carries over just fine.]

[Oh damn, she's dealing with a kid. Revan tries not to make assumptions about unfamiliar species based on appearance, but it's safer when they're near-human and, well, if the sulky shoe fits....

She crouches, robes pooling on the ground around her, and speaks gently. Tone of voice should carry even if nothing else does.]

Hey. This is scary, I know. Just give it a minute and things will get a little easier.

[The words still don't make sense, and Phos tenses as the stranger approaches. But the mannerisms and tone are all soft and careful, nothing even remotely aggressive. Phos peeks out at her between their golden fingers, eyebrows knitting together uncertainly.]

((Are you not getting that I don't)) understand you ((or what? Talking more)) isn't changing that.

[Or...maybe it is?]

((Keep going.)) I don't know ((why it works this way,)) but it does.

[It's like trying to make sense of a staticky radio transmission, except inside her head. Encouraged by even a partial understanding, Revan keeps talking, the words less important than the act. She wonders if this is what a protocol droid analyzing an unfamiliar language feels like.]

[ Robbie isn't stumbling into the clearing so much as dropping into it. The mystery teleportation had beset him again. This time, he reappears in a clearing a full meter off the ground, and, while he nearly lands on his feet, he's just off balance enough to take a hard seat on the ground with a loud oof.

He doesn't immediately get up. He takes the time to check that he didn't break an ankle in the process. No, although his butt is going to have a bruise after landing on the amputated foot of a statue. That's fine - he'd rather have fallen backwards than forwards and avoided any temptation to put his broken hand out to stop the fall.

A fluttery shine of green temporarily blinds him, like someone's cellphone angled just the right way on the subway, and then the light's moved to his shirt. He looks up and around to see something that... definitely belongs on the New York City subway.

There's a kid - teenager - with some sort of tinsel wig and clubbing outfit. There's gold spandex armwarmers... no, body paint. He? Robbie's not sure of the teen's gender, honestly, but it would be rude. Xie? He'll go with that. Xie isn't speaking English, but that doesn't mean xie doesn't know it. Brainiac knew English, so who knows how this will go? ]

((If it turns out Mitch Albom was right, I'm going to need the complaints department. I'm 2 for 5, and there's no sign of Freddie Prinze and Gloria Radner. I didn't even read that schlocky book.

Hey, kid. What's up with the statues?))

[ Robbie hasn't seen any statue do anything but stand statuesquely, so he's not sure why xie is so keen on them. ]

[Bruh. They wouldn't have understood that even if they were speaking the same language.

Not that they're terribly focused on what's being said right now anyway. They're a bit more focused on the fact that a person appears to have just dropped out of the air into the clearing. Phos nearly jumps out of their nonexistent skin, their golden arms briefly losing shape and going a bit liquidy in their surprise.]

Eh?

[Were those words? They don't even know what to make of this...person. Thing. They have arms and legs and a head and all that, but the details are all uncomfortably off. Strangely matte and imperfect coloring, strange hair texture, build and proportions odd. It's weird.]

[ Whereas Robbie is confused by sheen and liquidity to the teenager's skin. When xyr's arms start losing shape - melting – Robbie scrambles backwards a few feet in a crab walk. ]

((What’s happening?)).

[ The trippy, instinctive fear of body horror fades to intense concern, and Robbie is up and jogging over to the teen. His eyebrows are knit tightly together with worry. ]

((Your arms – are you)) all right? ((Shit, you were melting. Please tell me you’re a shape-shifter.))

[It's been a while since they've gotten that reaction, long enough that they can't even place it at first. The fear and subsequent concern seem to come out of nowhere, particularly given they didn't even really notice how their arms had momentarily deformed. Keeping them arm-shaped is a pretty subconscious effort most of the time.]

Eh? ((Say that)) again?

[They could swear they understood part of that, but maybe they just misheard something in their stumbling backwards as the stranger suddenly approached them.]

[ It's clear enough that he's being asked to repeat himself. Robbie doesn't touch xyr's arms, although it's a near thing, but he's staring rather plainly at them as he speaks. ]

((I asked)) if you were all right. ((I know the)) language ((starts)) making sense ((after awhile)) if you keep talking. ((Oh, and I)) cursed ((and asked)) if you're a shape-shifter.

[ Of course, it all sounds the same to Robbie's ears, so he has no idea how to make himself more plain. He thinks he should avoid words like shape-shifter, but it's so hard to dance around complicated concepts.

Like how do you ask if someone's arms are metal while not being rude WITH a language barrier? Impossible. He should stop staring. ]

((They're so)) shiny...

[Dixon's fairly certain that at some point some living malicious being is going to jump out from between the statues, so he moves between them with his shield at shoulder height and a heavy stick he found in his hand. It's not that anyone he's run into has been hostile (shrieking monkey aside), but he's not the sort to imagine everyone's friendly. It's not inherent paranoia but trained paranoia, the kind that gets fed into someone through inculcation; for him it was at police academy.

Occasionally he transfers the stick to the crook of his arm so he can scratch at the healing burn on his face and neck (which itches like a bitch) or pick at the stitches on his brow. It's when he's raising his hand like that that he hears the person yelling, then turns around and sees them.

Somehow, the more close to human the strangers are, the more annoyed Dixon is by their divergence from what he considers normal. The talking monkey and the kid with the dragon he can kind of get, but he's somehow a little bit offended at the sight of Phos in heels and hotpants and green hair. It gets him snarky, or at least as snarky as Dixon gets, which is a bit of the lowest common denominator of snide humor.

By now, the translation magic has mostly kicked in for Dixon, so he can tell what the person's saying.]

I dunno, maybe the fact that they're statues?

[The company is unexpected. Said company's appearance is even more so.

This person's outsides are...weird. His face looks kinda damaged? Phos can only assume, anyway. Whatever he is, it's clearly nothing like what they're used to, even if the general shape appears similar. Y'know, vaguely. The weirdness is more disconcerting than the similarities are comforting.

The translation magic is apparently working, but Phos...still looks confused. They frown, brows knitting together while they take a cautious step back, keeping a careful eye on the...person.]

They're what?

[Maybe the translation magic isn't working all the way for them yet? Or...maybe that's just not a word they've ever heard before.]

Statues. You know, carvings. Art. Weird fucking art.

[Not that all statues are weird, but all these petrified people are definitely on the creepy, disturbing, unsettling, just plain why-would-you-make-this part of the art scale. Especially the ones with decapitations or faces that have chunks taken out or noses scraped off. Goddamn.

Dixon kicks over one of the little rock-china dolls with his foot as he heads over. It doesn't break, and that kind of annoys him. He kicks it a little harder then gives up.]

You think you could have dressed a little better for this?

[Phos doesn't really get that explanation -- they're all carved, what's that got to do with art?? -- but they're distracted from the subject by the rough treatment of the poor defenseless statue.]

Hey! You could break them!

[They don't know what's wrong with the still white figures, but they doubt additional damage will help matters. Phos darts forward, planting themself between this new person and the fallen statue. Said new person doesn't seem openly hostile, but jesus, that's a level of dickishness even Bortz doesn't hit.

Their hand is halfway to their sword hilt, almost expecting a fight or something. What they weren't expecting is a jab at their uniform. They pause, looking down at themself for some issue. Nothing's ripped or anything...?]

What's wrong with it?

So?

[Dixon makes a motion with his head like his chin's retreating into his neck- combined with the way he squints his eyes, it's a very clear "why should I care?".

But then he sees the hand moving towards the sword hilt and instantly brings his shield up, with a sort of reflexive grace that surprises him. It's been a heavy thing to lug around until right now, and in a way it's almost like the shield itself is as hungry for combat as Dixon is for someone to berate.]

Get your hand away from the sword. [He barks it like a command, completely ignoring that Phos' attention has moved towards the state of his outfit.]

[Phos' eyes snap back up, their frown immediately going very deep and very flat. The skepticism is clear on their face, and they pointedly lay a golden hand on the hilt of the sword strapped aross their hips.]

Right, 'cause I'm totally gonna just do whatever you say. [Even at 301 years old, that still manages to sound like pure teenage sass.] You're the one threatening to break people!

Put. Down. The Sword.

[There's absolutely no recognition that Phos is talking about the statues, but Dixon doesn't like where this is going. He doesn't like that he doesn't have his gun or nightstick and is with an unfamiliar weapon, even if the shield does somehow feel strangely natural on his arm.

He squares his shoulders and steps forward. He can be fairly intimidating when he wants, although he has no idea how Phos will take it.]

You fucking blind? What goddamn people? Put down the sword!

What do you mean, what...? What's wrong with you?!

[Whatever that sheet of metal is meant for, it's being wielded like a weapon. Phos narrows their eyes at the stranger. They can't imagine why he thought just making demands would work, but it sure as hell is not convincing them of anything. They draw their sword in a smooth motion, the obsidian blade slipping out of the sheath with a metallic shing, the edge sharp and gleaming.

They set themself firmly in front of the fallen statue, sword brandished before them in a defensive stance.]

THE SQUAD DOES AN INTRO - [modplot] [event]

phosphophyllite | houseki no kuni

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