multiversallogs | Mission Gamma

Who: List forthcoming.
What: Getting a bottle of fog.
Where: The edge of town.
When: NOW. This thread will likely cover a few days.
Warnings: To be updated.

Dear Mission Gamma,

You are about to embark on a journey that you will remember forever. Take that as you will. Your gods require you to collect a bottle of fog and bring it back to the Temple. Not just any condensation either, it has to be from the fog around the City. You know, the stuff full of unnameable terrors and visions beyond the abyss. I'm sure you're all very eager to get started on your trip so I will leave you with this:

GOOD LUCK OUT THERE. Don't get too lost.

Oh, and some boons apparently to help you on your quest;

A Fog Traverser - It's a vehicle! It has tracks and wheels, how about that. Those fogtraders sure think of everything. I am told it will fit five people of average size comfortable and about fifteen of the uncomfortably. It has a large storage compartment, and it is covered in mirror glass and weird little wards. Oh, and most useful; it has a mounted compass that will point back to Baedal's centre!

Two Flare Guns - These are actually on the traverser, but I figured I should give them a special mention. Actually the guns aren't important, the flares are. There will be about eight (8) that provide a guiding light for the lost, six (6) which when they burn their light will reveal the true nature of things, and two (2) that can be used to call for help.

A Bottle - Gotta collect that fog in something, right? No old pickle-jars will do for this.

One can step into the fog surrounding Baedal anywhere outside of the City, but to bring fog back into the City one needs a plan. One also needs material; a bottle that will take fog for one and also some magic ritual or trick that would trap the fog.

Mystics, magicians or fogtraders consulted may suggest that the best chance of gathering fog would be to head into a bank where the fog is the thickest. They may warn such parties that the fog may bring out terrors and fears, monsters both imagined and real. They will advise against going alone and offer charms or prayers for a modest fee. They will also suggest telling loved ones in the City to not let them near when and if they return unless they can answer some previously agreed on question. Knowing what steps into the fog is not knowing what will step out of it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Max who totally said what she can do if not exactly what she is some time before now, in case you missed it she's awesome at hand-to-hand and can fight pretty well with a knife but don't try giving her a gun because she won't use it nods to Balthier as he approaches, recognizing him from the time they encountered the slugs or whatever it was they were and steps up, closer to the truck. There's an expression of grim determination on her face, refusal to show any fear despite what's being said about what they're heading into. She's not wasting fear before she needs it.

"Let's get this bitch over with."

There are a lot of badass ladies in this group, and Billy has a moment of missing Kate - if she were here, maybe she would have been invited to this group, she would have fit right in. (Well, apart from the killing. ... Probably. They only only killed Kang, that one time, and that was Iron Lad.) He shakes his head - concentrate, Kaplan - and climbs into the back of the truck, finding himself somewhere to sit.

"Eels?" Conversational curiousity.

"Define creative." Mabel was surveying the scene with a frown. Truth be told, she was still used to the whole 'team' idea and trying to manage working with more than two people at a time was going to be a hassle.

What worried her, though, was how many of them were there. Combine that with fog you could easily lose someone in and who the hell knows, and they had a disaster in making. Throwing a random group of people together didn't exactly spell cohesion.

Ashelia follows Balthier into the vehicle, staying silent except for a quite, "Hmph," choosing to listen to her companions. Her quietness has less to do with learning all she can about everyone by listening to them. It's more to do with the fact that she's been thrust into this team dynamic and she still isn't quite sure who Amalia is yet. Is she aloof? That sort complimented Balthier's personality well, but her life didn't revolve around him. Her words on the Bahamut came back to her. I am simply myself. No more and no less. And I want only to be free.

What is she even doing?

So she just rests one hand on the pommel of her sword, leaning on an arm rest and crossing her legs languidly. If nothing else, she can maybe inspire some confidence in her companions by acting in such a manner.

Jones hops into the back, herself, and immediately begins rifling through her kit. If they're going to be moving out soon, it would be a good idea to start preparing some things.

First, the Sight, for herself; it sounds like it'll be necessary to be able to tell the real from the unreal here. And then—for Anna, for Ilde, and for Sonja, who seem like they'll be on the front lines, a spell of protection that should help ward against damage to their persons.

She'll save her last couple active spells for an emergency...

"Creative like looking into your head and pulling out what you're afraid of." Oh. "I've worked for the guild that goes out there hunting for bleed-through materials since our little trip out over the ocean, thus I've been out in it a few times. It's a bit of a headache."

That sounds like putting it lightly (it is), and Balthier situates himself in a position where he can function as something akin to a lookout. "I'm certain if I say that the worst of it will come from your own head, we'll run into some physical thing that'll half-maim the whole of us, and so on with the reverse."

Lex straps the crossbow onto his arm to free his hands and easily climbs up into the truck. He gives the controls and various meters a look over. The instruments are easy enough to understand, if there are a bit more of them than he's used to, but that won't be an issue.

He decides to go ahead and test the engine. Thankfully when he tries the ignition the engine turns and a satisfied look passes across his face as he places his hands on the wheel. He glances over to Sonja. "So, which direction of the fog are we heading in?" He hates not being the one in charge of an operation, but he also knows that this is more of her element and it's smartest to put aside that pride for the benefit of not dying.

There's iron about -- mixed with the steel of weapons, and parts of the framework of the truck; she tries not to let it bother her. It can't hurt her in these concentrations, she reminds herself. And none of it is likely to be hand-forged.

Still, it's like an itch she can't quite scratch, and not precisely helpful in combination with all this talk of fog that gets creative with its nightmares. Anna folds her arms across her chest nervously.

She turns to face Jones.

"That...goddess wanted you as well, did she?" Anna can't quite help but put a hint of a sarcastic edge on the word. "It's strange to think, after all I've heard of mages, that I could be the one protecting you."

Ilde glances back at Anna in the midst of that, watching her expression for a moment with her curiously blank blue-black eyes; her half-smile is fleeting, but commiserating. It's everywhere, iron, and most of the time it doesn't hurt, but she soaked in it day after day for years and it's not a feeling that can just be ignored. Side-stepped, maybe, but it's there.

Still, she's on her own with sassing mages. Ilde watches the fog, after that.

"South and southwest." She casts a glance backward at Balthier with mild amusement as his assessment of the fog--it's pretty much accurate, as far as she knows, and she's actually glad to see him on this trip, since she knows he's competent. (For Sonja, this is friendly and effusive, okay.)

The fog itself is thick and patchy--there are intervals where it seems slightly less dense, but those do not actually denote anything good. Once the fog has so thoroughly encircled them they're clearly at least an acre or two out of the city, there's a sound that accompanies the movement of the truck.

It's hissing. Accompanied by the distinct feeling of something writhing after the tires. It's not terribly intense as of yet, but apparently they're being followed.

"Company," Sonja says. Her tone of voice is calm.

Really, Jones isn't too fussed about Anna's assessment of the situation. She's all too aware of her own mortality, and vampires seem to be able to take more hits than her sort, in general. That, and Anna's been her protector before in this sort of situation; that Anna thinks it's so odd is a little amusing, actually.

At Sonja's remark, she turns her gaze downward, toward the tires. The fog, curiously, dampens some of her magical senses—but there's certainly a presence growing in their wake. Something snakelike, slithering, gradually forming up into something more solid.

"I'm keeping an eye on it," she calls back. "I think we've got a minute or two before it become a problem."

The fog is thick and there's no hope of it letting up as Lex continues to drive into it. Clear patches come and go but they are brief and Lex learns quickly not to count on visibility lasting for long.

As he drives he finds himself having to adjust to the terrain far more than he did in the city, or even in other off road excursions. He keeps expecting to run over an unseen animal crawling on the ground, but that moment never coves. Instead he hears the familiar sound of tires rolling ahead surrounded by the contrasting unfamiliar sounds from all sides. The truck's not stopping until there's an emergency or Sonja yells at him, whichever comes first.

Mission Gamma

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject