Fighting For Your Life!

[strangerpeople]

WELL SH*IKSSHSH*

[The first thing you feel when you finally come to is a headache.

The bad thing is that it's not even a painful headache - it's one of those annoying headaches that's just below the threshold of pain, and it's centered right in the middle of your forehead. Just...ugh. Where's the aspirin?

For that matter, actually, where are you? This is not your beautiful house! In fact, as get out of your bed, you realize this place isn't even remotely a home. And whatever you're wearing isn't even remotely what you recall wearing. (I mean, yeah, it's not uncomfortable, and whoever dressed you was kind enough to make sure you had underwear on, I suppose. That's one less thing to worry about, right?)

Also, you have a weird wrist...watch...comm...thing on you, which is nice. Or at least it would be, if it and every other computer in the place didn't suddenly start making the second most ungodly noise you will no doubt come to hear in this place. The noise is followed by a a message on every desktop in the area, which won't be disappearing any time soon. Thankfully, your nifty wristwatch comm is spared this unavoidable screen, and tapping a button let's it disappear to reveal a simple profile interface, alongside a a text, calling, and photo function. Something tells you those latter two won't be particularly useful to you in the long run.

In any case, apparently you now have a Title, as well as a power, even if you've never had one before. Why? Where the hell are you? Who else is with you? Can you get out?

And...is someone laughing? The sound seems to bounce off and echo faintly throughout the floors. It's high-pitched, and - as you get closer to the theater - it gets just a little louder and just a little more grating. It sounds like a rabid hyena that huffed helium. Hopefully, it's just a movie or something that can be turned off. Someone ought to go in and do that.

In the meantime, welcome, Titled - and good luck.

There are fifteen strangers in this place.]


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[losergod]

[ In his bunk, when he awakens, the first thing C does is sit up, looking at his hands and himself, then he pinches a lock of hair off his head--white. (After he's taken that helmet off, of course.) He observes it for a moment, then shakes his head.

His head is... not feeling great, but when you're used to being beaten up by your fellow students on the daily, it's practically nothing. On that note, he reflexively touches his face, and hey presto, no bruises or bandages, wow that's surprising.

Seeing what vessel he's in comforts him somewhat, though. Vincent, he thinks to himself. He can at least confirm that his memories aren't as scrambled as they could be. He remembers those parts. That's... good, at least. But something feels off. He just can't place what, at the moment. He'll fiddle with the watch for a bit, looking through the profiles. He must gather information on this world. That's top priority.

Eventually, he does leave his bunk to go exploring, mostly, he's looking for somewhere to wash his hands, so he makes a beeline for the bathroom. Unfamiliar place, he's been in an unfamiliar bed... he feels unclean? Yeah. Gotta fix that.

After that, he'll approach the Library and see if he can find any good books in there. Time to comb over what they've got, he supposes. It can't be any worse than "How to become a millionaire by clicking pop-up ads", right? ]

[leftthelighton]

[ When Passepartout wakes up in his bunk he is very confused. He quickly pulls off the helmet and tosses it away towards a wall, staring at the thing in disdain. He's not going to be retrieving it anytime soon.

Seeing the wristcomm thing doesn't help his confusion. That sort of technology doesn't exist in his time. He's almost tempted to remove it as well, but his curiosity keeps him from doing so. But when he prods at it, his confusion only heightens, so he leaves it alone for now.

Soon he goes wandering along the hall, avoiding the cackling as far away as possible - he has a sense of self preservation, after all. Or so one would think, as he starts poking at the wristcomm again as he walks, attempting to figure it out. Will he bump into someone because of his carelessness? Time will only tell. ]

[losergod]

[ He does bump into someone. Someone looking equally perturbed. He's realized after his walk-around that he can't find any way out, nor any showers... and it's upsetting him a little bit. At least he's got gloves. ]

O-oh. Sorry. I wasn't paying attention. ... Are you all right?

[mementodagger]

[Yurick's used to headaches, though they usually center just behind his right eye. So he doesn't sit up or open his one good eye right away despite being conscious, choosing instead to lie there and ready himself for sitting up. Something's strange, though... the room doesn't smell of straw, wood, and rough linen with a hint of sea air in the distance, and the sounds are different. Everything seems muffled somehow, the air on his face warm and humid.

He finally opens his eye, and there's... some sort of glass bubble over his head. Jolting upright with a gasp, he claws at the bubble, but his hands are encased in thick, awkward gloves attached to a strange fitted suit that covers his entire body. Claustrophobia kicks in, just as badly as the time he was trapped in a stone coffin, and he struggles to free himself from the thing on his head as he hyperventilates.

And then something on his wrist suddenly starts making a godawful unnatural noise. Yurick screams and flings himself out of bed, tumbling several feet to the floor. How he got that high up he's not sure, but he ignores the bruises, barely notices the strange room, all in favor of continuing to struggle against the head-bubble.]

Someone, help! Get this bloody thing off me!

----

[Later, Yurick is stalking around, still in the strange suit but thankfully with that horrible thing off his head. Nothing in this place looks familiar, all strange materials and odd aesthetics. Even the more advanced places in Lazulis Castle look nothing like this. Worse, he doesn't see any of his team. He could hear Syrenne from a league away when she's been drinking. Lowell's not laughing and flirting with every maiden he sees. Mirania's usually quiet but he doesn't hear her softly planning strategy with Dagran. And he doesn't hear... he doesn't....

Blurred. The face, the voice, even the name is blurred from his thoughts. He knows he's trying to think of the one he trusts above all others, but... how could he forget all about...?

Yurick groans, slumping against the closest wall and pressing a hand to his face as he fights with his own memory. He has to remember! Why can't he remember?!]

[fashionfever]

Ugh, no more costume parties, Napoli...

[The first thing any bunkmates will notice is Angela screwing this helmet right off her noggin. She's going through the shelves in a lethargic yet methodical manner. She looks more exasperated than alarmed as she picks at her long hair trying to undo the "helmet hair" effect and get it combed at least kind of straight. You can get a similar atmosphere watching her explore the hallway immediately outside her own bunk.]

---

Yoohoo!

[About one hour after getting up, some things have become readily apparent. First, there is no easy way out in any of the rooms. And second, everyone is nursing some kind of headache. Angela has a simple solution: Mess hall coffee!]

Don't be shy, you don't gotta pay me a thing.

[She's got her chin aggressively propped up with one hand as she waggles the fingers of her free hand at the strangers passing by. She even tied her hair into an over-the-shoulder ponytail with some twist-tie. Keeping her face propped open is a pretty unsubtle force of will.]

[losergod]

[ ... Good thing he was passing through, he supposes. Normally he's not one to help people, but this is just a little bit too pathetic not to. ]

Panicking won't help. Hold still.

[ Here, he'll help you get it off, just... stop flailing around, all right? ]

[losergod]

[ Looking at her for a really long moment, but then he'll just... take the coffee. If it'll help his head, he may as well. ]

I would certainly hope I don't have to pay you. I don't have any currency in this world. It's not my domain.

[fashionfever]

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

[Angela watches this hallway-roaming dope from a distance like a trainwreck in slow motion. His polished mustache looks so classy! How can he be so clueless about this whatchamacallit? Finally she just takes pity on him and throws out her hands.]

Hey... We don't have actual reception, you know?

[fashionfever]

[Good thing she's got some mixes with significant milk and sugar and that is the one she shoved at him shhhh don't tell anyone GOD WHY ARE THERE LITTLE CHILDREN KIDNAPPED HERE!!! HER ROOMMATE WAS ONE THING BUT CHRIST THIS GUY IS LIKE A LITTLE BABY BIRD

she gives him a wry smile.] If you did have """currency""" and the rest of us didn't, it'd be pretty unfair, huh?

[earietale]

[Barbara Finch was not okay for several reasons after she woke up.

First, she had a headache that was just on the edge of painful. Something annoying whatever the situation.

Second, this was obviously this was not her house. Unless her dad made an entirely new room when she was passed out, and decided to make it look like a set from a movie.

Then, someone changed her clothes while she was asleep. Very creepy for reasons she didn't have to explain.

Then, when she gets out of bed in dorm room, this...thing on the desk starts making the most ear grating noise she's ever heard. Why is it making this noise and how does she make it stop?

The next problem is the message she sees when she goes to try turning the thing off. It explains some things, but gets her more worried the longer she looks at it.]

Okay Barbara, don't panic. Things...aren't the best, but they could be worse...probably.

[She's not sure how much worse it could be, but now is not the time to do these things.

As she walks throughout the halls, she can't help but look around at the surroundings, clearly unsettled. The entire place was creepy and the laughter coming from above was not helping. At this point she's starting to wonder if some alien was going to pop up and try to kill her or something.

She does eventually go to the second floor, and though the theater is tempting, the laughter drives her off, and she ducks into the weapon storage room, hoping to find some peace of mind, and instead...]

Oh dear.

[Okay, she's decided it. This is the actual worse day she's ever had.]

[losergod]

[ Excuse! You! This body is sixteen that's plenty old. He'd have preferred it black--he doesn't like sweet things, but he'll drink it anyway.

... A warm drink is really nice right now, actually. Considering how unfamiliar all this is. ]

... Well, I don't know that. But I suppose, for once, I'm not the only one disoriented. You woke up much the same way, then?

[backuphero]

[Jonathan has never been hungover in his life, has never been drunk enough to wake up somewhere strange in someone else's clothing the next morning, and so this whole business of waking up with a headache in a strange bed in a strange outfit is a completely new experience! It isn't one he's enjoying very much. The weird wristwatch suddenly making a terrible noise doesn't help matters - he swipes a hand over the buttons, trying to shut it up, and succeeds in opening the profile when the noise cuts off. He squints at it, makes a small sound of confusion, and then does something he'll probably regret later. He unbuckles it and flings the thing to the end of his bunk before yanking his gloves off and fumbling his way out of the helmet. He doesn't throw them after it, but stuffs the gloves into the helmet and leaves it on the bunk when he does finally get up. There's someone who should be with him, and she's not here. That he can't remember her name is making him angry more than it frightens him...

When he does venture out of the room he woke up in, looking for his missing partner, he's bristling more than a little. Still, he probably looks less threatening then simply disoriented. Helmet hair has a way of making anyone look like a clown, after all....

The cackling, funnily enough, is the first thing about this place that feels almost familiar. Whatever this place is, that's almost certainly tied to whatever is in control of it. He'll definitely try to follow the sound to its source, though he might end up making a detour into weapon storage once he's made his way to Floor 1. Sure, the sound gets more intense if he heads towards a certain other room, but going into a fight without seeing what else is around is just stupid.]

[backuphero]

[Excuse the startled yelp at the sight of another person as you're headed for the door, C. Jonathan might have been about to get up and leave too, but he wasn't expecting a stranger.]

Sorry about that, but... do you know where we are?

[earietale]

[Okay, coffee. Coffee might be a good thing. At the very least it'll probably give her some more energy to deal with everything going on. So she'll take one.]

Thanks.

[She'll take a sip before she asks this nice, surprisingly calm woman a question.]

So, do you know what's going on?

[backuphero]

[Oh, good, someone to worry about besides himself!

Not that he literally, consciously thought that, but it's good to have a distraction from not knowing your best friend's name, even if it is just trying to help someone out. And it really does look like this guy could use the help...]

You okay? Guess you got hit worse than me, huh.

[He is assuming head injuries for everyone at this point, yes. But he doesn't get close immediately, hanging back in case he's not the only one jumpy enough to lash out.]

[mementodagger]

[Yurick finally holds still, but he's panting hard enough to fog up the inside of the bubble and his eye is round with distress. From what he can see through the condensation, the stranger helping him looks a lot like himself and the mage kids in Lazulis Castle, pale-haired and fair. A fellow magic-user? Something about that calms him just enough. Maybe he's in part of the castle he's never seen before, that's all. Much as he doesn't trust strangers, he wants out of this thing on his head. His voice squeaks out, echoing inside the bubble.]

H-- help....

[losergod]

[ He shakes his head. ]

I haven't the slightest. I recognize this vessel, though. It's familiar to me. But this location isn't. It feels... abstract.

[vividsins]

[ When he first wakes in his bunk, the Baku frowns. Something is most definitely wrong. Something important is eluding him as he sifts through everything and removes the helmet and straightens his hair. These aren't his choice of clothes. He'll frown and then get up, make his bed and go about his day. Like a good, normal servant with a pleasant smile.

In fact, you can find him just about anywhere cleaning things with that smile on his face. He sure is getting a good start today. ]

[losergod]

[ He removes the helmet with only a little fumbling. Here, Yurick, you are freed. And he will smile at him, although how creepy that smile may or may not be is up to interpretation.

He's... trying, at least. ]

There. You've been freed from your imprisonment inside the space suit. Although I must say, I could have watched you flailing for quite some time more, it was something of a sad sight, and I can't leave my people to suffer.

Are you all right?

[backuphero]

[He's doubled back from upstairs, and the first thing he noticed once he was off the elevator was a familiar smell. As sterile as the air is in here, coffee is noticeable... and just about the only thing that could spur him into a near run with the way his head's throbbing.

He almost skids to a halt, and then -]

Thanks. I don't suppose you got aspirin to go with it?

[...breakfast of champions, right?]

[losergod]

[ Cleaning, you say? C is there for that. In fact, he watches with a confused expression, mostly because, well, Baku looks a lot like his vessel and it's weirding him out, but mostly because the cleaning makes him feel a bit more at ease. ]

... You're on the profile list. You can't work here. Why are you cleaning?

[mementodagger]

[Yurick flinches back from the stranger, dropping the hand from his face to reveal the black patch over his right eye. Confusion rapidly turns to suspicion, the mage's pale brows pinching together. Whoever this person is, their accent is strange, certainly not like anything Yurick has ever heard before. A traveler from a distant land, perhaps? Without being able to identify the accent or a style of dress (since the stranger is also wearing one of those awful body-hugging outfits), Yurick has no idea where he could be from or what sort of cultural nuances to expect. So he reverts to his usual aloof not-quite-politeness for now.]

Not that I recall, no. I'm certain I'd feel far worse if I took a blow to the head. And I'm fine, merely... disoriented.

weapon room

[losergod]

[ C just stares at the weapons, looking dumbfounded. ]

... This is dangerous.

[ Thanks, captain obvious. ]

[mementodagger]

[Another pale-haired stranger? Yurick hasn't seen the profiles (he doesn't even know what the thing on his arm is, much less how to use it) so he's not sure if the other man is a fellow kidnapping victim or some hired servant. Considering how happy he seems to be going about his cleaning, surely it must be the latter?

Which means maybe he has answers.]

So do you know why we've been brought here, or are you simply the hired help?

[backuphero]

"Vessel"...?

[He shakes his head, plainly confused.]

Nevermind. What do you mean, "abstract?"