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memestertrucks2025-01-01 12:01 am
monstertruckers) wrote in memestertrucks2025-01-01 12:01 am
Entry tags:
JANUARY TDM
After tumbling through shadow you find yourself in a shrouded, ruined garage. It’s full of shattered windows and broken mechanical equipment; watch out for shards on the floor, in between the strange symbols scrawled into the ground. Outside the daylight is fading; night is rolling in, and there’s just a few dying lights flickering on and off. It’s going to be hard to see in here and avoid bumping into things and people, if you don’t get outside soon.
Beyond the rundown garage is an overgrown gas station surrounded by thick, wetland forest. Starlight is streaming through the trees, along with light from a broken moon. The one thing that isn’t overgrown with plants is a large Convoy of vehicles, parked right underneath the station canopy.
01: START UP
The Convoy looks like a cross between a semi truck and a train; there’s no one at the front, but there’s still power humming through the entire Convoy. It’s also the most hospitable thing in sight. Why not make yourself at home a little? You just have to chase that eerie, empty feeling since there’s no one else present.
Alternately, there are the cars scattered around the Convoy; all of them in better shape than the gas station. And some of them looking and feeling almost like they might belong to you. That feeling is only increased, when you see there’s a key to the car nearby. Perhaps the key is already in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on your person, ever since you woke up in that garage. Either way, you have the keys to the vehicle now.
…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
Alternately, there are the cars scattered around the Convoy; all of them in better shape than the gas station. And some of them looking and feeling almost like they might belong to you. That feeling is only increased, when you see there’s a key to the car nearby. Perhaps the key is already in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on your person, ever since you woke up in that garage. Either way, you have the keys to the vehicle now.
…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
02: RUIN EXPLORATION
The ruined gas station and garage are the only man-made structures around, and have seen better days. The store still holds packaged food, and tepid drinks of all sorts. The garage has old mechanical equipment for working on cars, along with that strange summoning circle.
There's also a giant tree bursting through the gas station roof. And clinging to its branches, half melted into the surface, are metallic bodies. Graffiti is spray painted onto the tree, reading ‘avoid the Husks.’
Those who ignore the warning and get closer hear a faint hum coming off those bodies. It’s almost like whispers, though it’s impossible to make out any clear words. Some Husks are clutching supplies in metal fists. For a few unlucky new arrivals, those Husks might even be holding the keys to their vehicles.
Making direct contact with the Husks intensifies the hum, and the whispers begin to form into pained cries, and give the impression of something rummaging through their thoughts; trying to pry out things that hurt Drifters, and reflecting those hurtful things on the bodies of the Husks for anyone to see.
There's also a giant tree bursting through the gas station roof. And clinging to its branches, half melted into the surface, are metallic bodies. Graffiti is spray painted onto the tree, reading ‘avoid the Husks.’
Those who ignore the warning and get closer hear a faint hum coming off those bodies. It’s almost like whispers, though it’s impossible to make out any clear words. Some Husks are clutching supplies in metal fists. For a few unlucky new arrivals, those Husks might even be holding the keys to their vehicles.
Making direct contact with the Husks intensifies the hum, and the whispers begin to form into pained cries, and give the impression of something rummaging through their thoughts; trying to pry out things that hurt Drifters, and reflecting those hurtful things on the bodies of the Husks for anyone to see.
03: MONSTER ATTACK
The night grows darker, and the shadows grow deeper. And from those shadows comes the glint of something moving across the Husks, rippling over the metal… And breaking it apart in a flurry of too sharp claws and teeth. That’s when the radio chooses to come on in another mess of static.
Be careful- Keep your fear and rage in check- Calls the monsters- We need the shield up-
The warning comes too late as monsters arrive. Some human-like but with razor teeth mouths that stretch from face to groin; others resembling alligators with bloated proportions and jaws that spit lightning; and still others where the vegetation has come to life, sporting thorn covered appendages.
The Pisaca monsters act as shock troopers, wearing the Convoy down with venomous bites and debilitating howls, before the heavy and brutish alligators bull in, using their bulk and electric attacks to obliterate what’s left. The capparwires scurry in the periphery, taking cheap shots with thorny vines and sparking electricity where they can. It’s a task to keep the monsters at bay until the generator fires up. Especially when one last enemy makes an appearance…
Be careful- Keep your fear and rage in check- Calls the monsters- We need the shield up-
The warning comes too late as monsters arrive. Some human-like but with razor teeth mouths that stretch from face to groin; others resembling alligators with bloated proportions and jaws that spit lightning; and still others where the vegetation has come to life, sporting thorn covered appendages.
The Pisaca monsters act as shock troopers, wearing the Convoy down with venomous bites and debilitating howls, before the heavy and brutish alligators bull in, using their bulk and electric attacks to obliterate what’s left. The capparwires scurry in the periphery, taking cheap shots with thorny vines and sparking electricity where they can. It’s a task to keep the monsters at bay until the generator fires up. Especially when one last enemy makes an appearance…
03-A: MIRRORMIC
There's as a metallic shiver along one of the remaining Husks, and a strange ringing whisper in the ears. The next moment, the Husk breaks open in a gleaming pool of quicksilver. That quicksilver catches reflections, and molds itself into a darker copy of a Drifter.
The mirror monster whispers faults and secrets at the reflected Drifter, and anyone close by. It tries to goad Drifters into an attack. And when struck, the mirror monster plays its second trick; whatever damage it takes is reflected back onto the Drifter as a transformation. An injury to the arm transforms the Drifter's arm, and so on.
It's possible to banish this monster through direct lights shone on it from a car, flashlight, or magic… But such action needs to be swift, before the Mirrormic completely changes its Drifter.
03-B: BOMBADGY BOMBARDMENT
Before, during and even a little after the monster attack, there’s an extra presence scurrying around the vehicles, snuffling and barking when startled. A band of chunky, raccoon-esque monsters known as the bombadgy are raiding anything that looks like it could be food storage… And this includes vehicles!
The bombadgy’s claws are deft and sharp with tearing through windows and door seams. These creatures are a touch skittish and won’t attack unless provoked. They also can expel a flammable gas… And this means they can explode if sufficiently spooked or stressed. This also means that they can be treated as living bombs, and be lobbed at other threats if needed.
04: WIND DOWN
During the monster attack, there’s changes gripping the Convoy, and especially the people in it. It might feel like your control is getting worn away by the second… At least until something in the trucks starts to whirr to life. It’s a soft enough noise, little more than a hum as something blooms out of the engines. It fast turns into a shield that envelops the Convoy in a shimmering, glowing dome.
And while it might not be enough to reverse those changes, it can at least stop them from growing any worse. Give you a moment of breathing space to adjust to everything that’s happened, and give you some measure of clarity and control. There’s time to breathe and mend now. Take stock of one’s injuries and changes.
But there’s a few strange surprises still waiting, it seems. Because the corpses of the monsters begin to disintegrate, like they are bleeding out motes of sickly light. Light that you quickly absorb; it has the side effect of lessening pain, even mending wounds… Though it might make you feel a bit off. Maybe a little more excitable, maybe a little more irritable, or maybe expressing a certain odd psychological quirk. Still, that sudden surge should pass in about an hour or so; just need to keep it together until then. Perhaps with a little company.
And while it might not be enough to reverse those changes, it can at least stop them from growing any worse. Give you a moment of breathing space to adjust to everything that’s happened, and give you some measure of clarity and control. There’s time to breathe and mend now. Take stock of one’s injuries and changes.
But there’s a few strange surprises still waiting, it seems. Because the corpses of the monsters begin to disintegrate, like they are bleeding out motes of sickly light. Light that you quickly absorb; it has the side effect of lessening pain, even mending wounds… Though it might make you feel a bit off. Maybe a little more excitable, maybe a little more irritable, or maybe expressing a certain odd psychological quirk. Still, that sudden surge should pass in about an hour or so; just need to keep it together until then. Perhaps with a little company.
05: CAMP
A screen in the Convoy flickers to life. The image isn't visible through a snowfield of static. Same with the audio:
“Still… Alive? Good. Connection- Can’t hear you. Can't talk. Convoy will- take you closer to Nirvana.”
After that, the connection is dropped, leaving a collection of text:
I’m sorry. I have no answers for you. But you’re still alive. You’re not as broken as the rest of the world. When the sun rises, this Convoy and all the cars around it will start moving North towards Nirvana. If you want answers, and to stay as close to human as you can… I suggest you stay with the Convoy. Good luck.
A last alert flashes across the screen: “TESTING LOCAL NETWORK CONNECTION.” And then… Music starts to play on the speakers. Mellow guitar and brass music that’s at odds with all the weird that’s happened recently, but perhaps just the thing to relax to.
“Still… Alive? Good. Connection- Can’t hear you. Can't talk. Convoy will- take you closer to Nirvana.”
After that, the connection is dropped, leaving a collection of text:
I’m sorry. I have no answers for you. But you’re still alive. You’re not as broken as the rest of the world. When the sun rises, this Convoy and all the cars around it will start moving North towards Nirvana. If you want answers, and to stay as close to human as you can… I suggest you stay with the Convoy. Good luck.
A last alert flashes across the screen: “TESTING LOCAL NETWORK CONNECTION.” And then… Music starts to play on the speakers. Mellow guitar and brass music that’s at odds with all the weird that’s happened recently, but perhaps just the thing to relax to.
MICRO ENCOUNTERS:
PLEASE NOTE! These are small bits of set dressing for players to include in threads if they wish, rather than full fledged prompts or events. You may handwave your exploration of these areas, or thread them out.
Race Track: There’s a race track that winds around the gas station! It’s a bit threadbare in places and little more than a mossy and muddy trail. But it’s still a race track that weaves under and over trees, and seems like a good place to test new wheels.
Gone Fishing: The gas station area eventually turns into the start of a swamp; that explains where the alligators came from. It may be possible to do a little bit of fishing, though the fish are just as weird as everything else. Still edible though. Swimming in the swamp is not advised. The alligator monsters and fish tend to bite back.
Spray Paint Messages: The paint on the trees and gas station is starting to fade and wash out, but can still be legible; most of it contains messages warning about the end of the world, prayers to the heavens for mercy, and dire warnings about husks and something called “moon warps.”
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Viktor asks with his usual crass tone,]
The crack of my ass? Eeeh, sometime last week. [haha a funny joke, but seriously-]
The anchors aren't that far down. What are you talking about?
[some other change? Further hexcorization Viktor hadn't yet realizes? Is it spreading up his spinal column now? Worrisome and marvelous if so. Perhaps he hadn't wasted his chance at saving his own life, if it would eventually overtake his weak body entirely. Or perhaps he'd become no longer himself, subsumed by the hexcore and make its vessel.
This is what untested and desperate science gets him, isn't it?]
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Very funny, [ he tries to retort, and just ends up sounding like a smitten teen with the way you can hear his lips pulling up to expose his gums and teeth. jayce is still trying to adjust his seating, leaning back and bending his neck down to see this better without needing to move his soapy legs. it's— there's a symbol. ] Viktor, there's a tattoo here.
[ said factually, with a tone that says "ok, jokes over, now tell me—" ]
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It might have been left by the hexcore? Though, I checked myself over in a mirror to make notes. I had nothing at my back before the council meeting.
[which is the last thing he remembered of home]
A new development, I would suppose.
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the initial observation has jayce— flinching, glitching, rather, sucking in a yelp as he physically recoils from the mental blow. psychic damage x10..... that looked like Something he'd been shown. his gut keeps telling him he can't let it go further than that.
he's going to try and pretend it didn't happen, though. in a few seconds, even through uneven breaths, jayce is hovering behind viktor's back again and, somehow with even more gentleness, places his hands where they were before the access the tattoo. ]
It's . . . A symbol.
[ gears turn in jayce's head and work maddening laps for an answer. there are some details that . . . he's seen before? not the obvious. it's the other, runic-like details.
where—? ]
A symbol—
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[Viktor swivels as best he can without moving his hips, catching that glimpse of Jayce recoiling. The man looks very distressed. A trauma reaction? A reminder of something awful-? Viktor can't know, only suppose. When the man doesn't really recover and his inquiry seems to fall deafly-
Viktor fully tilts himself onto one hip, burling his legs so he can turn around more, twisting the symbol out of Jayce's full view, though his hand may remain at the small of Viktor's back. The man is reaching for Jayce in turn, trying to shake him back into this moment with a hand to cup his jaw, cushioned by his beard-]
Jayce. [a firm, grounding repetition. Come back to him, don't get thrown.]
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I've seen this, before, I—
[ what halts him is both touch and the moment their eyes connect, what was beginning to sound like shaken babbling the quieter he murmured. viktor's palm through the bush of his neglected facial hair grounds him with the start of a swallow and tight, self-controlled (or trying) lips. jayce's eyes keep shaking even when his gaze is fixed, straight into viktor.
he steadies his breathing, secures a hand over the other's boney wrist, cupping entirely around it, and— only nods, quietly. repeatedly, all attention on him like a lifeline, causeing his pupils to have nearly eclipsed the golden color around it.
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His thumb pets through the course hairs of that beard a moment longer, before parting to give a light slap-slap to the fluff of it. Get it together.]
Leave it be for now. Can't do anything about a tattoo. [if it's inked onto him, that's that, Viktor isn't about to do anything gruesome to be rid of it.]
I need to clean up your leg. You think you can handle that without kicking me? [he doesn't think Jayce will kick him, it's just something to say to make Jayce huff and roll his eyes]
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that seems to pass the more his lower lip juts out a bit in a gradually understanding pout that maybe it was . . . all in his head. his gut tells him no. viktorhas him postponing his prodding, and only then snaps his attention back up. kick him? indeed, he huffs! he nearly deflates! the pout is still there! ]
I'm not some horse, [ jayce retorts, to which he'll probably regret a month from now. jayce rotates his leg only to slot his hand under the inside of his knee— and nodding, but it's more to psych himself up. ] I'll keep still.
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He'll not rub the bar direct to skin this time. Viktor suds up his hands and then very tentatively rubs along Jayce's calf. Cleaning away caked on... who knows what? Something iridescent and unpleasant at the touch. No stopping to study it now, they're not in any place to take samples. Viktor will very delicately work the tender tissue, only to realize that once it's clean- well-]
... you also have a mark here, Jayce. An ink one. [not just a scar or a natural patterns, it's something else, more clearly defined]
Any memory of getting that done?
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but it is another intimate lean that affects him, and greatly at that. jayce rests his elbow against the edges of the tub and keeps his head turned, half to mask the darker hue he's turned under the natural bronze of his complexion, and half to anticipate a great amount of known discomfort.
the contemplating he's done in solitude has to do with viktor. his promise is viktor. his feelings for viktor were meant to be held behind a blockade until the right time to spill them free, but— plans change. this viktor does not have the hexcore within him. jayce hadn't been planning on finding him through interdimensional travel this way, or consequently bathing with him after a run in with monsters.
so, he'll just have to . . . ride it out, this time around. luckily, jayce's fluster could easily be overcome when viktor actually begins the wash his leg deserves. it's nasty and cruddy and gross, ugly colored scabs moist enough under the froth to peel away in sticky strings and siphoning a serous, neon green-blue drainage. it is not nearly as bad as it was at its absolute worst. at most, he curls his toes when its ill-fitting, his thigh tremors, he goes from pressing his face to the inside of his bicep to migrating his forehead, gradually, to viktor's shoulder.
and its there he stays, doing everything but kick or complain. he's a very good boy, and an even more well behaved horse.
he relaxes, at last when everything seems done, and looks to be positively exhausted in the way that he starts slumping on viktor. a good thing to mention, the ink; it perks his head up right on the spot. ]
—What? [ he has to see; and when he does, jayce falls deathly silent. ] No, these are—
[ it's them. holy shit. ]
I knew I wasn't— [ alright. pause to relax. to refrain from speeding up dangerously. It's not the time to tweak out again. ] Viktor, they're runes.
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[Firmly said, if paired with the tender petting of warm water over the injury. Rinsed and clean, it's clearer to see what is going on, but... runes? Viktor feel his vision briefly blur before tunneling inward rapidly. That only happened around the hexgates-
He snaps back within a second, realizing he should take his own advice. Steady. Both of them need to be. Not just Jayce. He coughs, whipping his head to bury into the crook of an arm, not wanting to sputter all over Jayce. When he can catch his breath, he sighs and tips his head against Jayce's at his shoulder,]
Know where they... came from? [they're definitely not carved into him like the marks all over Viktor, crudely done in desperation.]
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They're not like our runes. [ in his downcast glance, jayce can see the scabs of viktor's runic self-harm, and with quiet understanding, brushing his thumb upon one of them. ] It's from where we woke up in. The walls, under the debris . . . [ he doesn't remember, exactly, how many. but he remembers looking at each one for a long time, scurrying around to find them in the corners of the garage like a code he needed to crack. he had no paper to write them down on, but if went with eden's word . . . if he found a device, he would have records of them. ] Anywhere from ten to fifteen different ones.
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[Viktor confirms, thinking he knows what Jayce is referring to. They each woke up here, summoned at different places and even times, judging from the disparity between himself and Jayce. For Viktor, he was either dead or it had saved his life. He's not sure which is more comforting, even though the answer should be obvious...
He relaxes into Jayce's hold, glad for the bracing touch. Jayce was always one to offer him that. It's especially nice, about now.]
Seems we're both marked by this place. Which makes sense, for teleportation runes, don't you think? [these are more powerful than their own Hexgates, but similar in principle, or so Viktor rationalizes]
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Let's say the same principles we use on hextech could be applied— then it can be studied. [ the bob his head gives is miniscule, but there. felt with friction. ] We can crack it.
[ . . . we.
he's missed that so much. ]
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[Viktor's tone is heavy, sad, and exhausted. He finishes cleaning up Jayce's injury and slouches towards his own, magi-mechanical leg. The changes hand on that side rolls fingers, not reacting in any particular way to being in the water. Good thing, too, this wouldn't have been possible if he was sparking or his limbs simply failed completely. Small mercies...
It remains difficult for him to feel he deserves that, after what happened to Sky. His hand bundles into a fist,]
Should we is another matter. We did not... ask ourselves that enough, Jayce. We lost our way because of it. [And now, they're so far off course that they may as well see whatever this is through, together. Diverged paths can always reconnect, cross back over one another, or become the same road to travel again.]
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You shouldn't— I'm sorry.
[ after everything with sky, it was probably a burden to ask of him, one more time, to do what haunts him. it's all so fresh— it's hard to keep track of their own times. jayce feels guilt creep along his spine, and the apologetic embrace his arms could give are the respite he could offer. silence was to come, but his words probably don't offer comfort. he used you, implying something.
maybe it was a burden he had to carry after all. but jayce was hardly one to hide his feelings, not from viktor. his voice cracks when he does, vulnerable and unfastened behind him. ]
. . . I need to go back, Viktor. [ it is a plea to understand. frightened syllables at the prospect of failure, of becoming stuck again. no one pulled him out of that ravine. the longer he waited, the more he erodes. he had to claw his way out, through the pain and grit, through the rain and the jutting crevices. it was no longer about spending their nights dreaming and creating, no matter how much he'd missed the simpler times. it was about viktor. and it pains him, on one hand, when he had viktor right here with him. it was . . . painfully tragic, to think that they are not meant to even meet. that this wasn't where he had to be. the more he thinks about it, the more confused jayce becomes with what he must do, because, what if this is what would save viktor? what if this leap farther behind was the answer, in a place beyond runeterra? jayce ends his silence with a harsh sigh that almost whines. ] I promised you.
[ the quiver and break of the precious word, promise is a clear enough signal to viktor: he's afraid. he's afraid to leave things entirely up to fate. he's unequipped for this ride, it unhinges completely from what he was told to do. ]
I don't— know what to do. I don't, [ he breathes in, ] want to fail you again.
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I promised you. Connected again, Jayce to him. Pulling him right back up. Viktor sighs with annoyance and misplaced, he knows, frustration- His tone says explain, with a bile behind it bubbling,]
And what did you promise-? Remind me. Slipped my mind- [he catches his acidic tone, shaking his head, grinding his teeth against themselves.
The last promises Jayce made to him-? Destroy the Hexcore. Make no more weapons.
He is unaware of what Jayce told some other, unknown version of himself. A Viktor who suffers a somehow sadder and more tragic fate than the man in Jayce's arms feels doomed to. How this Viktor would scoff at that possibility. Sounds fake. Utterly improbable that things could actually get worse for him.]
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You haven't asked me yet.
[ he manages as much, but feels a rise of prickling tension up his spine, like waiting for a dangerously tight coil to spring on him. his answer is a parry and he knows it, enough that he feels that he should not be taking the liberty of hugging him this way anymore. jayce's arms come undone, his forehead rises from the spot on his partner's skinny back— and he hangs there, close behind him in the tight enclosure of the tub.
jayce anticipates something like the grumble of a storm, and that makes his chest tight, his thoughts run— he wants to say something but it's caught in his throat, preemptively feeling his eyes pinch shut in a flinch— ]
Viktor—
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[Viktor snaps back, because being denied knowledge will always gets beneath his skin. Of all people, he wouldn't want Jayce to hold back on him. To keep him in the dark. It's demeaning. It's like telling Viktor he cannot be trusted. By his own partner! It hurts, it offends him-
He doesn't think "should I know this?"
That might change his outraged tune if he considered this attitude is just what gets him strayed onto a different, darker path from their dream. One leading right to hell, paved in so many good intentions. Viktor cannot be saved from his endless pursuit of knowledge, it is his most self destructive aim.]
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I—
[ the single word claws out the cracks of his throat, dry and on the verge of a tremor, one he must swallow down tightly, clicking between his teeth and torn lips. when jayce inhales, closes his eyes with fluted eyebrows, he sees . . . everything he needs to see. gripping his partner's shoulder in front of a blackboard. looking up at the mage who saved his life. viktor hovering with him in a fantastical expanse of blue magic and elated grins. his elegant features staring back at him after pronouncing his name, a racy look in his amber eyes— he'd just saved him, again, from plunging off a ledge.
only you can show me this. he'd never forget those words, carved into his heart and making it bloom. jayce can't take it. his thoughts race, they burn at his tongue, until it shoves him to speak what courses in his ears, in his veins.
it is not without some thought. it is not without sure, steady words, battered from time but a stronghold as tough as diamonds: a truth that he would never again hide from this viktor, what was the answer to this future wish, even if he wouldn't understand it now. his lips press tightly together— and then it's out. ]
I love you.
1/?? we'll see
That is not-!
2/??
3/5... let's say 5.
4/5
... that is not what I asked.
5/5 he's done
An anger drastically undercut with awkward disbelief,]
That is not what I asked..!
KHFZIYFXIVHKHCC 😭😭😭😭😭
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