maudKAOS IC

[Rutskarn]

Sometimes, a routine can seem as solid as a rock. The days and the weeks seem writ indelibly in an unseen planner, dictating that every single second of existence go exactly according to plan.

Such has been your stay at Krospenz Kross.

Krospenz Kross isn’t exactly the most fast-paced and unpredictable of places—paradoxical, considering that it makes its living off the notoriously unpredictable profession of scavenging. Part of its serenity can be owed to isolation—Krospenz Kross is as secluded as they come, a small city built on a floating spit of rock in the middle of a vast, chiasmic, colorful nothing. The only new beings come in every few years through the gates that pop up like dandelions every so often, and the only time a face is lost is when they die, disappear, or through a whim of unknowable madness hurl themselves through a gate, never to be seen or heard from again.

To those who live in the Kross, life has a definite pattern. One rises, falls into one’s scavenging team, and takes position at one of the crane gates to spot for salvage. Scrap iron, strange crops, even (very rarely) the components of bizarre machines, all floating weightlessly through the void outside the gravity fields. During this time, one socializes, or works on hobbies, or simply lets the time slip by without a fight.

There are various reasons to stay. Chief among them is that nothing on Krospenz Kross will kill you. Krospenz Kross comes down very, very hard against violence, something that can hardly be said for many of the unspoken dimensions out there.

Still, none of you have lived in Krospenz for long—only what scant months or weeks have passed since you were first spirited away from your home dimension. Due to your junior status, you’ve all been assigned to the same collection team. You haven’t found anything worth salvaging so far.

Nor have you seen much of the city, or met many of its denizens. Your few acquaintances include the New Arivals Overseer, a nervous squat creature with greasy skin and sockets in lieu of eyes, the Quartermaster, a spindly being that could be either an unusually metallic insectoid biped or a grimy, organic-seeming robot, and the Resources Officer, who you have never seen or spoken to face to face.


Although you’ve all arrived at different precise times, none of you have ever seen another “new” worker besides each other. The first to arrive worked alone, the second to arrive worked with the first, etc. If there were any other “new” workers before you, they don’t qualify for that role anymore.

Your quarters, your kitchen, are located scant feet from the salvage dock. You are not permitted to go further until you have met the vaguely-defined “standards of citizenship”. Still, day-to-day life hasn’t been intolerable.

Things have been quiet.

Things have been secure.

And something about this place chills you to your bones.

Today hasn’t been very complicated so far. You’ve all just clocked in together, familiar faces on a familiar day’s work.

The Salvage Dock:

The Salvage Dock is large, grimy, and dimly lit. It’s made mostly of scrap iron and other inscrutable metals, all welded together with an almost impatient carelessness. Bits of scrap metal and other salvage are heaped in piles in the corner, to be removed by unseen crews sometime during your “resting” period, about an 8-hour break every 25 hours (this period is mandatory for all workers, and is apparently strongly enforced). The room is rectangular—one wall contains the exit, while the other is removed to reveal the swirling void outside. When you see anything worth nabbing, you use your crane to draw it in—a process that, due to the inclusion of several complicated pulleys, requires about four or five people to do.

You all arrived about half an hour ago. Nothing’s happened so far.

[Bryn]

Charles sits at the side of the room, watching the portal and plucking a mandolin. A mechanical arm affixed to his back holds a second mandolin. Occasionally, he pulls a lever and switches to the other instrument. The purpose of this is not readily apparent, because both are essentially identical.

"Alright, lads, at least one of you must've played an instrument before?" Charles has asked this question every day since he arrived, apparently hoping for some sort of elaborate musical contest.

((Since nobody else is starting things off...))

[Gourtox]

Vel

Spoiler

Show

I call the color Bolded DarkSlateGray for Shifter and DimGray for Vel. These colors are negotiable.

"Played an instrument before? Hah, I've never even seen one of those things before." He turned his eyes back to the void watching for any scrap. "You are such a wimp." "Oh shut up Shifter." "Now we are all brave." "You know you really are annoying." "Of course I know." He makes a small shadow ball and starts rolling it on his arm. "Seriously try the instrument." "Fine." "I'll try it." The ball dissapears and he walks over to the muscian.

[pingcode20]

Whirr... Clank. Hiss.

The lights were on in the Old Wolf and Jury today, and by the sounds of things, happy hour was in full swing. The hiss of hydraulics accompanied every step, the polished wooden sign swinging back and forth with every heavy footfall.

Whirr... Clank. Hiss.

The towering drinking establishment loomed over Charles, perusing him as though pondering what to do next. After an uneasy moment, the right front window's shutters flew open, and a tiny bespectacled man with a little red thing made out of plastic in one hand stumbled out, leaning out the window.

"I gotta kazoo." he slurred, waving the little thing around. "'zat count?"

[Earl of Purple]

Carl

Carl is wearing brown robes, with the occasional beetle scurrying from sleeve to sleeve. "I haven't used an ins-troo-ment before, but if noise is what you mean, I can do this." After that remark, the beetles start chittering, clacking mandibles and rattling elytra. It sounds...Interesting, sort of like a rainstick, but also sort of like a rattle.

Spoiler

Show

The elytra are the carapace protecting the wings, evolved from the forewings. I am using purple because.

[Selrahc]

Story's voice arrives in the head of the assembled heroes, it feels fairly faint right now, but in hearing it everyone feels slightly perked up, like they've just had a nice cup of hot chocolate or dwarven fire tea, or shadow essence or the equivalent. A fiddle contest? Um... that sounds lovely. Um.. I could help judge it if you want..

[Rutskarn]

The conversation is suddenly interrupted by a vibration from the crane. Something has drifted into your salvage snare--you've all caught something.

None of you have ever gotten anything this early in the day--apparently, it's considered good luck in Krospenz Kross.

[Earl of Purple]

Carl

Carl starts pulling levers, pressing buttons and whatever else is required to get whatever it is that's been caught on bourd the floating rock-city. Carl even partially discorporates, to see if a glimpse of the salvage before it's dragged on bourd.

[Bryn]

Charles, who was in the midst of explaining how to play to Vel, looks up in surprise. "Best be some ale. Or a grand piano."

Standing, he passes the mandolin to the mechanical arm, and takes a few clattering steps to get a better view of whatever has just arrived.

[Rutskarn]

The arm swings in, greased castors pivoting in complete silence.

Like a wraith, a cloth-wrapped bundle glides in, fluttering briefly as it passes into the gravity field. Its about the size of a motorcycle, with some unknown weight bearing down the bottom. The ragged top was snagged on part of the crane, and when the crane lowers the bundle drops off onto the floor.

The cloth falls away.

Beneath the cloth, rotted almost beyond recognition, is a corpse.

[Gourtox]

Vel

Vel is shocked that they would find such a thing. "Will you look at that. Today just got interesting." "A body? We should pprobably go talkto someone about this." Visually he looks very shocked and he sorta is, but not as anywhere near much as he appears to be.

[pingcode20]

At the Old Wolf and Jury

The hulking machine of brick, steel, and hydraulics slowly clomped its way over to the corpse. It wasn't easy to get it moving, especially not when you had to have the cooperation of at least three or four drunken crew members.

"Phew!" commented the kazoo-holding fellow, wrinkling his nose. "Someone ought to have a look, see who it is."

[Earl of Purple]

Car3

"Is there something distasteful about dead creatures? People here have shown no such compuntion whilst eating." Carl really doesn't understand. The place where Coleopterans originated has no vertebrates at all, not even fish, so Carl finds humanoids as alien as they (generally) find him (or it. Or them, I'm not entirely certain about the correct term for a hive-being). "There are very few farms here, could it be eaten?" Coleopterans, outside the season new coleopterans are created, stay away from each other and have few social instincts.

[Rutskarn]

(Guess I'll continue narration, if nobody wants to respond to that)

Those of you who've examined the body at all notice, very quickly, that it looks...off. It's humanoid, if so badly rotted that little else can be said of it, but what strikes you immediately is the livid pustule on its chest. Quivering and flesh-colored, it seems to waver uncertainly, like a bubble near popping.

[pingcode20]

At the Old Wolf and Jury

The fellow looked down, and quickly turned around. "Close the windows and warm up the laser! We've got something infected here!"

He pulled shut the open window, and the unmistakable sound of a tiny latch being hooked resounded through the building (insofar as the sound of a tiny latch being hooked can resonate).

The right side of the roof popped open, and what was apparently the laser rose into the air. It looked a little like the bastard child of a radar telescope and the Sydney Opera House, all mounted on an electromagnet.

"Clear the area, we're going to cauterise it!"

[Earl of Purple]

Carl

Carl scuttles off away from the drunken scientist's pub. "Will we be able to eat what's left? As I said, very few food-production centers are located on this rock." Carl is producing a chittering noise.

[Gourtox]

Vel

"I say you go poke it." "Why would I do that?" "To see if it isn't alive in its own weird way.That and it would be funny." "You might actually have a point there, but what about that thing on its chest?" "I'd stay away from that, but still poke it." "i'm gonna go check that somehow it isn't alive and Carl we aren't gonna eat it. Mr inn guy thing don't shoot me." He makes a thins stick about as long as his arm and walks over to the creature. He studies it for a moment before gently poking it.

[Rutskarn]

The corpse doesn't respond.

[pingcode20]

At the Old Wolf and Jury

"Firing in three... two... one..."

The hum gradually increased in volume, helpfully accompanied by loud, friendly countdown beeps before a bright beam of non-specific particles (or was it photons? They could never remember) shot into the pulsating bulge, causing it to make the transition from fleshy-coloured to red-hot and on-fire in a matter of a few seconds.

Higher Powered, more rapidly lethal settings, of course, were reserved for taking the wind out of people's sails and showing just how invincible the latest antagonist was. That was just how these sorts of things went.

[Gourtox]

Vel

He jumps back from the corpse when he haers the countdown.. "That thing on it's chest kill it." He turns the end of the shadow stick from flat to a sharp point. He throws the stick into the pustule thing. "You can shoot it if you want." he says to the inn thing. "Carl we don't eat corpses. It's just not what we do and I wouldn't eat that one with the thing on it's chest."

[Bryn]

Observing that something dramatic is shortly going to happen, Charles starts to play an ominous drumroll. Frowning, he watches the fleshy bulge intently.

[Rutskarn]

The laser strikes the fleshy pustule, and an angry hissing begins to sound.

The pustule ruptures.

A white cloud instantly explodes outwards, like steam from a bag of popcorn. The air begins to smell...off. Not unpleasant, just naggingly odd.

[Earl of Purple]

Carl

Yes, after I saw the pustular boil I did reconsider my suggestion of devouring the cadaver. Also, why do you not eat the deceased? They won't mind.When the cloud reaches Carl, he coughs. Sort of; he starts vibrating Sorry, that stuff really gets in the spiracles.Carl motions at the cloud as he says this.

[Rutskarn]

((OOC note: when I pause for a while, it's not because I forgot about the thread, it's that I'm waiting to see if anyone else reacts. I'm thinking on trimming this time down.))

You watch the corpse, somewhat disturbed by the recent turn of events...and then, you hear the shrill voice of your supervisor coming from the speaking tube.

"Your crane just buckled--did you bring in some scrap metal? If so, we need to organize a pickup immediately."

[Gourtox]

Vel

"We don't have any metal, but we do have a corpse. It had something on it that umm burst. It kinda smells in here now too." He waves his hand in front of his face to disperse the smelly air. "You think you could send someone to get rid of it?" "That smells and it must be pretty bad if I can smell it." "It's not really bad, but it's not good either."

[pingcode20]

At the Old Wolf and Jury

"Hope that wasn't poisonous. We should probably head outside." came the speaker-voice again, as the machine lurched towards the outdoors to let the gas clear out a bit.

[Earl of Purple]

Carl

"Definitely not edible." Says Carl. He's still coughing, which makes an odd noise.

[Rutskarn]

There's a long pause.

When the voice returns, it's quiet and emotionless.

"Hold right there. Under no circumstances approach the body. You'll have instructions shortly."

After this, the sound cuts off.

The Old Wolf and Jury, lurching to the door, finds it locked and bolted.

Five minutes later, the voice returns...this time, a little strained.

"We're about to deliver...a shipment...to your area. Stay away from the door."

After a moment, the door blasts open. You see a few of the cleaner droids hurl a gurney through, then slam the door shut again. You hear bolts sliding as the door is once again locked.

The gurney hurtles across the room, slamming into one of the walls. On it is a large, bulky shape draped in canvas. You can't see any details of it.

A klaxon sounds abruptly--your gravity well is about to be disabled.

The canvas twitches.

A force stronger than anything you've ever felt sucks you out of the room, through the salvage port and into the lurching chaos outside. You see, and taste, and smell things you never have before, things you could not describe or recall later. In this chaos, you just have enough time to register a bright flash of white light before everything goes...

...black.

Location: Unknown

There's a sharp shock as you are plunged into freezing air.

The rest of your senses take a moment to catch up.

First, your hearing.

A thin, nasal cawing sounds from all around you, like that of a sick bird. There's a rustling of leaves, and the whisper of something like water trickling nearby.

Then, your sense of smell.

The air feels...fresh, somehow, but nonetheless different. There's a sort of earthy quality to it that you're not used to smelling, as well as just the faintest hint of ammonia.

Finally, your vision returns, and you can see the bizarre world around you.

Before you, static and silent, is a gate. Its ten feet high, narrow as a humanoid doorway, and consists entirely of a solid, jagged white streak. It glows softly, but you cannot hear the whisper of the maudKAOS through it.

Around you, the world is enveloped in jungle. Trees, fifty feet high and only a foot wide, shoot straight upwards before bursting into canopies of green and red leaves. Through a small hole in the canopy above, you see what appears to be a thin plume of smoke about half a mile away. Shorter trees have expanding branches, covering the area around in shady darkness and providing perches for the unseen birds that chirp so strangely around you.

In point of fact, you see no animals whatsoever. No insects, no birds, no forest mammals--the area is empty of life.

Suddenly, from somewhere in the forest behind you, you hear a sound like a distant, humanoid scream.

[Selrahc]

Story's voice is heard again. It doesn't feel as comforting any more.
"Something is wrong. The gate is wrong. The world is wrong. The scream can hardly be the sign of something good happening. We must find out what is going on. Quickly." As he says the words, any lingering sense of bewilderment and shock are purged from his companions.

His attention wanders as he says these words, he tries to remember the screams he has heard, and discern more about the victim.

[Bryn]

Charles picks himself off the ground, and backs slowly away from the gate. He jumps at the sound of the screams, then - as story speaks - he grins.

"C#. How remarkable!" Charles draws a long, colourful tube out of a pouch and inserting it into the mouth of a slide trombone, withdrawn from the clattering mess of instruments carried on his back. "I never heard such perfectly tuned screaming. This will be an adventure worth singing about!"

He strikes a match and uses it to light a taper, which he holds near the mouth of the trombone, ready to ignite the rocket... and marches off in the direction of the screaming.