memestertrucks | MARCH TDM

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After tumbling through shadow you find yourself in a shrouded, ruined garage. It’s full of shattered windows and broken mechanical equipment, with all sorts of sharp edges to watch out for. Between that are strange symbols scrawled into the ground. Outside is cloudy weather and the beginnings of a storm flickering and rumbling.

Beyond the rundown garage is a rundown gas station surrounded by rolling, grassy hills. Close by is a Convoy of vehicles, either parked or driving up to station.

01: SUMMONING CIRCLE

This time the summoning circle and car garage is attached to retro diner, and an old wind turbine, barely still spinning and providing fading power. There’s also a broken radio playing a message about Nirvana and imploring people to head north. In fact, there’s a large amount of broken electric equipment in here and spitting sparks.

A fan circles overhead, stirring those sparks and creating a breeze. Trails of paper are attached to the fan, spinning lazily about. If Drifters choose, they can easily retrieve those paper talismans with little more than a slight static shock. While the paper is tattered and smeared with ink and blood, the following can be made out: “Broken in two […] Nothing to lose-“ “Moon mourns, call her down, ease her pain-“ “Need […] Better vessels from afar. Stronger souls-“ “Imbue with moon sigils, Give blessings of moon, share her pain. Put the ritual right.”

Hard to say what that all means, but it seems to have something to do with the summoning circle here. And there’s lingering power crackling through the building. The sort that makes the lights flash and flicker… And line up eerily with flashes of thunder on the horizon.

02: START UP 

New arrivals will have a similar experience to before; a Convoy waiting outside for them, and a collection of vehicles, one of which feels like it belongs to them. The key to the vehicle may already be in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on their person, ever since they woke up in that garage. Either way, Drifters 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 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.

03: STORM WARNING

There’s something odd in the sky; it shifts between a dark cloud, and a collection of birds. As the thing draws closer, it clearly becomes a mix of both. Car-sized, dark feathered birds and skeletal avians fly in a thundering flock, and turn the sky stormy in their wake. That alone is bad… But what’s worse is how the shiny chrome of the Convoy and vehicles draws the birds. As they dive towards the ground to snatch at the shiny metal, they pull the storm and bring a tornado with them. The Convoy does its best to anchor to the ground, but lighter vehicles and Drifters might not be so lucky.

The garage and diner takes it worst of all: the electric devices start spitting sparks and can even act as homing beacons for lightning strikes if a Drifter with electric abilities gets too close to them. Any remaining, intact windows shatter as the storm winds pick up, pelting Drifters with razor shards. And water starts pouring in, further shorting electric equipment and soaking anyone to the bone. There’s even a strange droning, siren like noise to warn about the storm and cut into one’s hearing. It’s difficult conditions for anyone caught up in the blow-out.

04: WEATHERING

Once the main force of the storm hits, the following happens:
Diversion: Those with Fast cars can drive away from the station and divert the birds. They’ll want a second Drifter to come along; either to snipe at the pursuing birds, or keep eyes on the terrain! Eventually the birds will tire or get culled enough that the storm disperses.
Updraft: There is the risk of getting swept up in the tornado winds. Damage, injuries… And a particular quirk this storm has. Drifters who spend more than a minute in the storm winds will find that they begin to take on traits from the Harpy monster. These traits increase in potency if the Drifter experiences hunger or violence. As the weather clears and days become calmer, the traits fade.
Downburst: If Drifters get slammed into the ground by the storm, or the dark birds flying about. They may also find themselves drenched with rain. Any injury they take mends quickly, but is replaced with scales, as the Drifters begin to resemble a Naga monster. These changes grow worse if they tell lies, but disperse with the storm.
BIRDS: The birds themselves are vicious: those afflicted with Naga traits are seen as prey, while Harpies are seen as rivals. The birds are deadly, but also clumsy if forced to the ground. The screens on the Convoy recommend crippling the wings before finishing the bird off on the ground.

04: MONSTER SHIFT, NAGA

This month, Drifters will have access to the serpentine Naga. On top of all Naga species traits being available, the following occurs:
+Cold Blooded: the rain and storms can potentially make Naga slow and sluggish, or inclined to sleep or seek out other heat sources to gain energy; this includes basking in body heat from others!
+Water Divert: With their water shaping, Naga can divert falling rain and even ground saturation to make the area or other Drifters more dry. They can also concentrate water into different areas, and can also change water into mist or ice.
+Blue shift: the scales of Naga become more vibrantly blue, or a strange mottled combination of blue and stormy gray, the more intense the rains become. These scale colors can also reflect their moods.
+Extra arms that are painful and disorienting to grow, and can result in coordination issues.
+Scale Pains: Pain and discomfort when scales grow in, as well as fangs or talons!
+Water glide: during floods from the rains, Naga find they can easily traverse deep water as though they were simply walking (or slithering) across it.
+Thermal vision, making it easy to track others in the middle of storms. Vision may also become disorienting, and eyes become slitted.

04: MONSTER SHIFT, HARPY

The storm will bring a second monster this month, in the form of Harpy. On top of all Harpy species traits being active, the following occurs:
+Storm Rider: high agility and capable of flying through the storm winds without hindrance. Even tornadoes can be mastered!
+Feather pains: itching, or full pain when growing feathers or wings. Talons may also be painful when growing from fingers or from feet.
+Wind Affinity: able to shape wind, including diverting the worst of the storm winds, or summon and focus wind into razors.
+Warbling Voice: words may waver and slip into something more songlike, or even a damaging sonic scream if emotions are heightened.
+Height Call: a need to get higher into the air, whether through perching on buildings or the convoy, or through flight. A sense of euphoria as they go higher.
+Nest Building: a compulsion to create a nest out of spare and soft objects, and feeling more safe inside that space.
+Heightened vision like a bird of prey, able to pick out details even at great distance. This may be disorienting at first, as vision becomes telescopic.

05: RAIN, SHINE, OR SALVAGE

Upon culling enough birds, the storm disperses. The monster avians dissolve as they drop into streams of energy, feeding into Drifter Sigils and providing limited healing. And handful remain intact when they hit the ground and can be harvested for meat, feathers, and possibly even talons.

There is one extra problem, in the form of falling debris. After being pulled up into the sky, wreckage (and possibly stray Drifters) are going to drop back down. It’s advised to look out for falling objects and people. It might be possible to salvage something in the form of scrap metal for any vehicle repairs, but such a task requires two.

06: STORM SHOT 

The storm can be dispersed in one of two ways. One is waiting the storm out. The second is a battered collection of machines melted into the roof of the garage and gas station. When touched they burn the hands of Drifters, but also fire a jolt of lightning into the storm. One shot lessens the effects of the storm, repeated shots completely disperses the weather.

In the aftermath of the storm, something different rains from the sky in the form of glowing, quicksilver feathers. These feathers can suppress one avian or serpentine trait for a month, and can also drain away any Naga or Harpy changes from the event completely.

Alternately, the feathers will allow Drifters to temporarily access flight for one day. Doing so completely robs the feather of its magic: only one effect can be chosen from a feather.

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.

Windy Days: Preceding the storm are gales of strong winds, enough to stagger Drifters or send them staggering into other people or other vehicles.

Diner Is Served: While the retro diner attached to the garage has only limited food stores, curiously there is a respectable amount of cooking equipment that can be plundered. Portable stoves, pots and pans, spoons, and the like are all available for the taking.

Fading Storm: In the aftermath of the storm, the garage and diner look like they’re on their last legs, barely held up by their shelving. Anyone who wants to try salvaging had better move fast and carefully, before the entire thing comes crashing down.

NAVIGATION || RESERVES || APPLICATIONS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

1: First Impressions

[A 3'4 kobold with draconic wings stands looking at a car, hand on his chin. The car is not his own, he covered that with a tarp the moment he saw it. There had been a symbol on it that nobody should have known about. It's put him on edge

He is a lizard with draconic horns and brass scales in a three-piece suit. He has steel-toed boots for his digitigrade legs, black leather gloves, and a long red coat. A wand, a simple thin bar of metal with a black handle, is holstered at his hip.

He hears someone approach nearby, and in an instant he's turned around, a sword made out of black magical energy pointed directly at them. His eyes are dark, with the faintest tinge of yellow, looking at the Drifter with suspicion.] Did you bring me here? [His voice is scratchy and what some Drifters might describe as British.]

2: Bird is the Urd

[It is not long before Echo Naivallon's already extant wings start to become feathery as a result of the storm. He can be found occasionally sitting on a boulder out in the middle of the plains, not trusting the convoy and certainly not trusting the vehicle provided for him, looking at the gradual expansion of the feathery areas of his wings. He touches the feathery part with his hand, poking at it experimentally, all the while muttering.] What the fuck...? [What's happening to him is so disturbing that he doesn't notice the approach of a fellow Drifter.]

3: Scarlet Storm

[Seeing one of the Zu attacking a decidedly more anthropomorphic shape in the midst of the storm, Echo flies near. A bolt of lightning, scarlet in color and originating from Echo's wand, strikes the skeletal bird creature squarely in the neck. The bird shrieks and turns its attention to the kobold mage, away from whichever drifter it had previously been focusing on. Echo's own eyes glow a slightly less faint yellow with his casting done, his cat-like pupils constricting slightly as he prepares for a fight.]

4: Rest

[With the storm having ended, Echo finds himself perched on the top of a pole, writing in a tome he has with him and flipping through the pages. Even if someone somehow saw inside it, all they would find would be indecipherable symbols. Every once in a while he tries to cast a spell with his wand, to no effect. For some reason only a very small handful of his spells are actually working.

If he sees anyone approach or look at him for any substantial length of time he will fly down to their level, putting his book into his inner coat pocket, and staying the air hovering so he can remain at their level of height, with his hand outstretched to shake.] Hello. My name is Professor Ekkobrahx Sorelk Naivallon. How are you?

[ When the kobold turns on him with a dark energy blade that hadn't been there a moment previous, John recoils in offense. ]

Jesus— what? No!

[ Aside the grand feathered wings and taloned hands, the man looks largely human. But his is not a human voice: it warps deep and low with uncanny resonance, echoing with some unseen power. Though he wears a yellow cowl to keep his face in shadow, a sigil has been stamped across one eye like a brand. It is a sign of the Great Old Ones. ]

You can relax. I'm a friend.

[Echo takes stock of the person. A human with disparate avian traits isn't normal to him, but also isn't strange enough to cause too much confusion. He hasn't seen the sigil before, but he takes notice of it. Eventually, he allows the blade to dissipate in his hand.]

A friend, sure. [He doesn't say it sarcastically, but he does think it that way.

Nonetheless, he does everything he can to appear to relax, as John says. At least, as much as one can be expected to under the circumstances. Mentally, though, he's still on high alert. He gives a small laugh.] Sorry, I'm a bit on edge. I don't quite know how I ended up here.

[ John's expression closes with something guarded, embarrassed. It had been a first reflex, an old well-worn excuse. Disrespectful to his actual friends, now that he has some. ]

Fine. I am not your friend. But I have no particular reason to be your enemy, except you waving a magic fucking sword around.

[ He does not relax much when the blade dissipates: he does not come any closer. But he does resettle the wings against his back. ]

You've just arrived? In the garage adorned with eerie symbols, I assume? The same happened to each of us.

[Echo raises his brow. John's change in demeanor is more of a reaction than he had expected. Then, still smiling, he raises his gloved hands in front of himself as if to emphasize their current lack of weapons.] Again, my sincerest apologies.

Although I hope you won't dismiss the possibility out of hand. [Having known this person for mere seconds, he has no idea if John would make a good ally, but more allies are always better than fewer.] I ought to introduce myself, I am Professor Ekkobrahx Sorelk Naivallon. [He takes a bow.]

Indeed I did just arrive. You and others have been here longer? [That's a troubling implication.]

[ He blinks. Caught off guard by the politeness, and the elaborate name, and most of all by the title. ]

Professor? [ Some of the tension falls from those black-feathered wings, and he finally takes a wary step closer. ] You're a... a scholar, then.

[ He met a librarian, once, briefly. But it was the librarian of a university, so it stands to reason they would be similar. Even if one was a human with a fearful respect for accursed knowledge, and this seems to be some sort of... lizard-like creature with dark powers of his own.

Still. He does appreciate the bow. And John will rarely pass up an opportunity to introduce himself in turn. ]

For a month or so, yes. Perhaps two dozen of us. [ He hesitates, then offers his own scaled hand to shake. ] I am John. John Doe.

[Echo doesn't react when John approaches. Much as he would like to keep his distance, he does not want to convey his distrust. He shakes the taloned hand.] Well met, Mr. Doe.

That I am. An alchemist. [A specialist in transmutation, at least publicly, though in secret he's more of a necromancer.] I teach at Nowarde University, in Hartenport.

[Roughly twenty-four people for roughly one month. With those numbers, it still seems plausible that one could simply leave, but something about that situation makes it seem like that won't be so easy.] Do you know why? Why we've been brought here, and where here is?

[ He has never been called Mr. Doe before, and looks openly pleased at the title. It's peculiar to shake hands with someone who has claws, but then, John presently has talons. And the lizard-creature— Professor Naivallon— is so very respectful. ]

Where is Hartenport? [ It seems unlikely to be in Massachusetts. Or, no: this creature's accent is rather like Arthur's. Perhaps England? ] I came from Arkham. [ That's a lie, but a convenient one. ]

I have heard this place called Revan. It seems to be a world in decay, still scarred by some great calamity. We do not know why we were taken, or by what means.

[Echo takes John's reaction to mean that the honorific is correct, and also takes particular note of it, trying to form conjecture in his mind as to what John's whole deal is.]

It's on Grandhart, a large island southeast of Shaunrac. [If John doesn't know where Shaunrac is, then its likely no amount of explaining is going to be of much help. He doesn't know what Arkham is, himself, but it's hardly of much concern right now.]

A world? As in an entire plane? [That does rule out simply leaving or teleporting home. That they don't know how they were taken is not of too much surprise or concern to Echo. He does not recognize the conjuration that seems to have brought him here, so he doesn't expect anyone else to either.]

I'm afraid I do not know it.

[ Perhaps not England, then. Perhaps a world more like the Dreamlands, with very few humans at all.

Plane is a peculiar term, though it does make a sort of intuitive sense to him: not a matter of planets separated by physical space, but of places overlaid one upon the other. Perhaps very like the Dreamlands, then. ]

That is my impression. As best we can tell, it is... [ And here he falters for a brief moment, expression gone more guarded: ] ... a place ruled by strange and hostile gods. Shrines in their honor still stand across the landscape. Their creatures and enemies alike see fit to hunt us.

["All gods are hostile" is his first thought, but it's not one that comes anywhere near being spoken. His expression remains unchanged, as if he's simply neutrally assessing the information that has been given.

It's only after a second or two that he trusts himself to make a small grimace, a more appropriate reaction than the cackle he might like to give. It's almost a relief to him that he might have to deal with openly hostile gods, rather than plot against "benevolent" ones in secret. Still, he certainly doesn't trust John enough to give him that kind of reaction. Everything here could be a trap, a lie, and for the moment this new information makes him more guarded than ever.]

Not ideal.

Did they bring us here?

[ John's expression closes further. His mouth thins for a moment, in that instant of hesitation before a lie. He is not yet adept at hiding his emotions on this stolen face. ]

I don't know.

[ He is very certain of who brought him here. But having now spent a month among monsters, heroes, and mortals of no particular consequence, he finds it unlikely that anyone else here was important enough for such personal treatment. ]

It seems likely. The same symbols have been found upon their shrines as were found at our own summoning. But I am not a scholar of such things. [ His frown deepens with genuine frustration: many idiots seem intent on becoming scholars against all good sense. ] Either the entities or their cults are certainly active in cursing those who meddle with their sites of worship. It may be wisest to avoid their attention as best we can.

Edited 2025-04-01 05:02 (UTC)

[He notices the hesitation, and thinks John is lying. It suggests the worst to him, that this really is a trap, that a god he knows really is directly involved, that John may be working for it. His wings bristle out slightly, a bit more ready to fly, his pupils tighten, and the faint yellow of his eyes brightens just a little bit. It's nothing more than a suspicion, but it now rests solidly in his mind.

Nonetheless, he doesn't actually disagree with what John says. He can't afford to draw the attention of a god, assuming that he hasn't already.] I agree.

Is there a place where those of us who have been brought to this world might congregate? [He would like to confirm at least that there actually are others.]

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The teenaged human girl, wrapped in a towel over her swimsuit and with a backpack over one shoulder, holds up both hands with wide eyes as she stares down the sword in surprise and a little wariness. Not fear, exactly, but definitely wariness. "Uh, no. I didn't. I just got here, too?"

Echo feels bad now, and lets the shadow blade vanish in his hand, though his guard stays up. That what seems to be a human child in an unfamiliar environment is so relatively unphased by being threatened by a spellcaster is impressive but suspicious. "Apologies. This is a very strange situation we are in. Forgive me for being jumpy."

She stares again, but mostly because his sword just disappeared. Whoah. "I'm pretty jumpy too, maybe if I had a weird magic sword I'd be pulling it on people, too. I don't though."

And now that there's no longer a sword in her face, she can also recognize she's talking to a little... dragon... dude? "I don't think I'm in California anymore," she decides.

Echo's never heard of California, but he's not likely to admit ignorance of anything unless he's forced to.

"I wouldn't call it weird. It's only a second degree spell, and a relatively normal one at that. I imagine anyone with the capacity for magic could cast it with enough practice."

Which gives him a nice segue to introduce himself and begin asking questions. "I'm Echo Naivallon, a professor of alchemy. I've taught magic like this to many a student. And you are?"

"Jolie Harmony, student, but not of magic. Because we don't really have magic where I come from," she says. She has been told many times that the stuff Hiskott did to them was scientific, if alien, and she believes it. Magic is from stories. Good stories, but still, stories.

"So it's pretty weird to me," she finishes, tacking on a, "Sorry." Because it's rude to stare, and she knows it, even if she's having a hard time not doing it. "Where are you from that you have magic?" And little dragon people.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Harmony."

Echo isn't sure what Jolie means when she says they don't have magic. That she's from a fully different world where it simply doesn't exist is far from the first possibility to cross his mind. It's more likely, he thinks, that she simply hasn't seen it. Or perhaps, just hasn't recognized it as magic.

"Hartenport. A city on an island off the coast of Shaunrac. There's a fairly large university there, so mages are fairly common. Mostly wizards and artificers, as you might expect, but there are courses even for honing less manifestly academic spellcasting disciplines."

" ... okay, I don't think we're from the same... place," Jolie finally has to say. "World, even. If there were a magic college anywhere on Earth, I'm pretty sure I would know about it. Unless they're secret. Is it secret?" Again, like Harry Potter, she supposes, but it doesn't sound like he's talking about someplace secret if he'd just come spill about it to any random person he ran into.

And, again, little dragon person.

"That could be. I can tell you I'm not from Earth." He seems to be in a different plane than he was before, so it seems likely that Jolie could be from a different one entirely. Perhaps the Plane of Earth, given that she used the name. Or perhaps a different place entirely.

Echo has himself read some novels about secret wizard schools, and enjoyed some of them quite a bit, especially as a younger kobold. Even in a world where magic is reality, there is still some room for that kind of fiction. So he does chuckle as he answers. "And no, it's not secret. In fact it's one of the most prominent locations in the city."

"Okay, yeah, definitely not Earth then," Jolie sighs. She hugs her backpack against her chest, looking momentarily lost before she attempts to rally. She's been through worse. "So is this your... world? Or is this someplace new for you, too, since you were all 'rah, I will pull a magic sword on you!' right from the start?"

"Again, quite sorry." He lowers his head a bit in embarrassment at the reminder.

"There is considerable evidence that it is not. For starters, my world's moon is not fucked up like the one here, unless something has changed quite drastically." His tone is professional even as he uses the profanity. He can't find a better way to explain it accurately, especially given how little he knows himself.

"It is my understanding that this world is called Revan."

"I would probably have done the same thing if I had a magic sword," Jolie assures him. She's not holding a grudge.

She looks around with a frown. "Revan. Isn't that from a video game...?" A... Star Wars video game. Her brother had been obsessed with it last year, once they got free enough to actually buy new video games. She doesn't remember if it was a place or a person, but this doesn't seem very Star Wars-y so it's probably not related. "I don't suppose you have any idea how to get back," she guesses, looking back at Echo.

"You've heard of it?" It occurs to Echo that at some point the only way he's actually going to learn anything about Jolie's world, like what California is or what a video game is, is if he directly asks about it, but that can wait. Especially if everyone here comes from a different world, each with its own peculiarities, in which case it may just be best to learn the broad strokes of each.

"I will invest my efforts into finding a way." If he knew how to cast plane shift it would be simple, though he suspects that whatever has brought everyone here doesn't want the matter to be so easy. Nonetheless, when Echo Naivallon sets out on a task he does so with an extraordinary commitment to see it through, so when he says he will find a way back from Revan he means it as an ironclad promise, which reflects in the intensity with which he says it.

MARCH TDM

Ekkobrahx Naivallon | OC | New Character

1 and roll Knowledge (Planes) baybeee

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