Horrible Hawkins Halloween - Season 216

[Matsu Xiangu]

THIS EVENT WILL RUN FROM 10/20 - 10/27.​

Option to continue if people want to.​

Your DM's are Matsu Xiangu and @Six-O.​

This takes place on Maena, in the extremely well-guarded 489th Level of the New City.​

RULES/GUIDELINES

1. Your ultimate goal is to escape. This will not be easy, and not so obvious as running out the front door. Although you could try.
2. You do NOT HAVE WEAPONS. All weapons will be returned to you at the end of the event, in perfect condition. If you survive. Use the environment and what you can pick up to your advantage.
3. There is no posting order besides the one you establish with your partners. Post as often as you like.
4. Interacting with our NPC’s is GREATLY encouraged, but you will not be penalized if you avoid them! If you’re writing a killer story without them, that’s coo’.
5. This is a freeform environment. We’ve given you the basic set-up and you must acknowledge our DM posts, but the rest is up to you. Create rooms. Set up scenarios. Escape NPC interactions through hallways you imagine, or fight them! Run wild. We’re only here to guide and challenge you.
6. What gets you good marks? Creativity, pushing the story forward, good sportsmanship, and creating a fun environment. You will NOT be penalized for getting hurt, maimed, trapped, having bad luck, or making a poor decision. This is not about who does the best - it’s about who writes the best story.
7. What gets you bad marks? Bad sportsmanship, ignoring your DM’s, making your DM’s or your teammates do all the story legwork, being a fun-sponge.
8. IMPORTANT: All survivors of the Horrible Hawkins’ Hellish Halloween are eligible for an all-expenses paid visit to one of Maena’s REFRESH clinics. There, all wounds of any nature, including missing limbs, can be repaired should the person so choose. You can keep any sweet scars you want to though.
9. All questions, anything at all, should be directed to the OOC thread. No question is a bad question!

LOCATION 1
HAWKINS HOSPITAL
Hawkins Hospital hasn’t been around for that long, though the building in which it found its home is ancient by Maenan standards. Repurposed and refitted, Dr. Hawkins saw his dreams come to life - at least in part. With intermittent electricity, unreliable water, temperature control issues, and any number of sanitation concerns, Hawkins Hospital never got off the ground. Its staff stays out of fear, knowing if Dr. Hawkins doesn’t get to them, the Orderly will. The paint is peeling, there’s mold on the ceilings and in dark corners, endless puddles of condensation, dirt and grime all over the floor. Everything seems blue, either from the cheap fluorescent lighting (if it’s working) or from the glow of the rest of the city’s neons flickering outside windows. Ten floors and a basement, it’s a huge maze of endless rooms and supply areas. Like most of the Hawkin’s family properties, it’s not far from the others - the smell of Hawkins Meat Hook drifts through open windows where they can be found, the lights of the school can be seen from here, and the Hawkins Manor itself is just past all three.

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[member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Liya"] | [member="Kellyn Muir"] | [member="Greta Kohler"] | [member="Oran Shule"]​

OPEN SPOILERS FOR STARTING POINTS​

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Spoiler

1. Aria Vale - 2nd floor: The room is dark, the tiles and stonework broken and chipped. Atop a soiled gurney Aria awakes, a sharp pain in her abdomen, her hands bound in chains and secured in a way that she can not wiggle or squirm free. Music plays in the Theatre, shadows loom all around them. The Force cannot detect actual life, but visually the image is imposing. Shapes and outlines of all size and make staring out from the blackness. The pain is so intense, uncomfortable. (See Greta Kohler’s start.)

Spoiler

2. Liya - Ground/1st Floor: Hearing is usually the first sense to come back after unconsciousness. Maybe it’s the steady drip of condensation off the moldy spots in the ce[iling that she hears first. Or maybe the slow, repetitive sound of something dragging along the tile floor to her left. Then smell. Then sight. The return of her eyes reveals the nurse dragging a limp right foot behind her as she moves off to the left, whimpering quietly. To her right is a corner that dips in to a stairwell that will either take her up or take her down.

Spoiler

3. Kellyn Muir - Basement: Electricity is a precious commodity this far down in the New City, and is intermittent on the best of days. Dr. Hawkins picks and chooses where the electricity is shunted in his hospital, and the basement is an afterthought - after all, only dusty old machines, unused surgical instruments, and the dead occupy this space. There is absolutely no light where Kellyn awakes, the smell of mildew and stale air the only indicators he’s even conscious. However, a light flickers off in the distance to the right. Behind that door is the morgue. But if he ventures further there may be other options.

Spoiler

4. Greta Kohler - 2nd floor: Same Location as Aria Vale, same scenario. Same setting. An old Operating Theatre. Music echoing from the walls eerily. Unlike Aria she is not trapped on her Gurney, but rather can instantly remove herself from the surface. She too suffers wildly from a certain sort of cutting pain, hers in her left shoulder, just out of reach for her hand to probe what the cause is. Aside Aria’s Gurney primitive medical tools rest, terrifying in their state of upkeep. They are dull, dirty and rusted. To free Aria, her abdomen must be opened, and from between flesh and muscle a key fished. Then for them to exit the Theatre proper, so too must Greta be cut. Down her back. (See Aria Vale’s starting point.)

Spoiler

5. Oran Shule - 1st Floor: Oran Shule was dumped rather unceremoniously in the Specimens Lab, a weathered face nearly pressed up against a specimen jar in which a small, deformed head floats in formaldehyde. One eyelid rolls back, revealing an electronic pupil - a camera, watching the stirrings of his return to consciousness as 300 million citizens eagerly await the start of their favorite show. Something deeper in the rows upon rows upon rows of tissue and limb specimens rattles a jar, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the cavernous room.

LOCATION 2
HAWKINS HIGH

Hawkins High is a bit of an anomaly. Education isn’t generally considered a priority among Maena’s lowest levels, so the burgeoning success of a school among its generally criminal elements was surprising to say the least. Before the TV-station took over the level in pursuit of this year’s location, rumors abounded that Eloise Hawkins cast a spell on the locals, or threatened them with bodily harm, simply so she could get a student body upon which to unleash her terrifying power. Shiny and new as if no one has ever set foot within its walls, Hawkins High is a large square made of three floors and a basement, with an open courtyard in the center filled with scraggly, poorly-grown trees, duracrete benches, and opposing statues of the galaxy’s great minds. The electricity here is generally stable, but in the off-hours many rooms are dark, the lights turned off with no one home. But Eloise Hawkins is always home...and she sees everything within her school’s walls...

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[member="Imogen Daniels"] | [member="Jacob Crawford"] | [member="Venthis Zambrano"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Vulpesen"]​

OPEN SPOILERS FOR STARTING POSITIONS​

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Spoiler

1. Imogen Daniels - Second Floor: It’s dark when she wakes up. Maybe it was the discomfort of standing in such a strange position for so long, or maybe it was the clicking whirr of a camera staring at her through the small metal slits from which came her only light, but either way - consciousness finds her. The camera doesn’t move, watching and waiting for her realization when it becomes apparent she’s in the most classic of predicaments: trapped in the claustrophobic, dark, cold space of a locker with no one around to hear her.

Spoiler

2. Jacob Crawford - Second Floor: We’ve all done it. Fallen asleep in class, groggy and scared someone noticed when we come up out of stupor. The classroom is dark, lit only by the small space lamp glowing on the surface of an unoccupied teacher’s desk. As Jacob’s eyes open, the door gives an audible clunk as it locks him in. The Headmistress does not care that it wasn’t his choice to fall asleep - after all, those who cast this show aren’t nice when they take their ‘volunteers’. Though she’s nowhere to be seen, she can be felt as a pencil rockets past Jacob’s head, missing his face by inches as it shoots past him to impale the wall behind him. There is deafening silence for a moment before another comes shooting for his ear.

Spoiler

3. Venthis Zambrano - 1st floor: The water is green, the pool full of vibrantly glowing algae. It’s unnatural, it’s slimy, it burns the flesh in a very acidic sort of fashion. More than three hundred people had drown in the pool during the School’s heyday. Steam rises off from it’s water, and at the bottom, Venthis awakes. A tube forcefully pressed down his throat, oxygen seeping in to his lungs at an almost dangerous level. Pull the hose and surface quick, for once he stirs the oxygen shuts down. The Pool Room is in utter disrepair, clothes are waiting for him on a broken diving board and a sledge hammer to bash his way free through the barricaded exit.

Spoiler

4. Lark - 1st floor: Detention at Hawkins High was always a nightmarish affair, with a Headmistress whose powers made her the very walls of the School she controlled, to the vicious New City Monsters she employed for her specific brand of punishment - corporeal punishment. There are two others in the room - one of them just awaking like Vulpesen, the other. . . in what could only be described as nightmarish throes of agony before their final descent in to the blackness of the beyond. Louder and louder the person cries, another contestant that wasn’t meant to make it beyond the first room. But before Vulpesen can awake fully, the terrible deed has been finished, and the body left bloody and abused at the front of the class. (See Vulpesen’s start position.)

Spoiler

5. Vulpesen - 1st floor: Neither managed to witness the horror that befell the poor third party that was in their room. His body was torn and tattered, whipped and tortured with instruments that were made illegal in the Galaxy Proper many Generations ago. They’re able to move, able to investigate. Even with the Force they are unable to break the barred windows, pull down the battered walls, break through the locked doorway. The clock strikes four and the Headmistresses Voice speaks to them. They have ten minutes to find the key to the door, hidden deep in the bowels and guts and gore of this ill-fated soul before them. Lest they stay to fester and meet the cruel hand of her Dean the same. (See Lark’s start position.)

LOCATION 3
HAWKINS MEAT HOOK

Hawkins Meat Hook, while generally regarded as one of the finest Butchery Staples in the sea of rival and food savvy New City establishments, has fallen in to a state of disrepair at it’s oldest and first location. Now located in the heart of the Television Owned section of the Low Level it resides in, it’s become less known for the fine meat and cuts that comes from within it’s main plant and now is renowned for it’s savagery and the sentient slabs of meat that are ushered out in the off season. A place of horror and death. The massive plant resides at the heart of Hawkin’s Territory, a square of space in the crowded Level that has featured nine times in the last fourteen years making the Hawkin’s a household name in the New City. Built with crumbling, black, Maenan Brick, with windows broken and smoke stacks constantly pouring the scent of meat and Almakian Applewood out in to the urban center that is the New City. The smoke hangs like a fog around the plant, dimming the glows of neon from adjacent and close standing buildings. Inside there are a myriad of halls, large open rooms for carcass draining, halving, primal cut harvesting, and most importantly livestock preservation. The most common being Bladeback Boars imported down from the upper levels of the City. They’re kept in an artificial habitat that is as ugly and cheaply made as the crumbling building that surrounds it.

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[member="Darren Onyx"] | [member="Kyle Raymus"] | [member="Xin Boa"] | [member="Causstik Rahn"] | [member="Zul Grimm"]​

OPEN SPOILERS FOR STARTING POSITIONS​

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Spoiler

1. Darren Onyx - The conveyor belt on which Darren Onyx woke up was long and winding, sticky with the uncleaned filth of pounds upon pounds of raw meat processed along its length day in and day out for years. The massive slicing blades that scream at the end of the conveyor, hungry for new meat, haven’t been sharpened for the same length of time and no doubt that’d make for a rather painful and gruesome death should Onyx not find a way to release himself from the swiftly moving belt. Too bad he’s tied down to it, and that the key to free his ally will also be chewed up by the blades if he’s not freed. (See Causstik Rahn’s starting position)

Spoiler

2. Kyle Raymus - They’re packed in tight, the ground has turned to mud, blood. Filth and decay. The scent is wrong, cheap materials used in the creation of this Pen. This location of the famed New City Staple has known better days - it’s glory long gone. The Boars, Bladebacks, imported down from the richer Levels and Establishments in the Upper-Levels. They were of imposing size, scarred, some with milky eyes that were left blind from fighting and abuse. They had enough room to roam, but not enough to really feel free. Most importantly they had a very particular sort of diet. Sentient Flesh - with a particular taste for Human. Bound by a collar and staked in to the ground Kyle Ramus awakes to the nudges and shoves of an animal in hungered frenzy. An animal many times greater than his weight. An animal that has alerted the others that it’s found some food. Yank the stake from the ground, fight, flee, escape. Or help your ally. . . Kyle must choose. (See Zul Grimm’s starting position.)

Spoiler

3. Xin Boa - There is a sound of water - or something much thicker - dripping. . . it’s almost deafening. Chains are rattling, the sound of a hose spraying. The high-pressure burst stops, metal clanks the ground and heavy foot falls grow closer. A man, his belt weighted low with butchering knives, a greasy blood stained apron clinging his front brushes past Xin Boa forcefully. Spinning him on the chain he currently hangs from, a moment that enlightens our immobilised that this place is vast and full of death. Carcasses ready to be harvested and broken down. And The Butcher has found his next slab he wishes to work with. A young Zeltron boy - the perfect and most soft sort of meat for the food savvy Maenan’s to enjoy. The Butcher and the Boy disappear, leaving Xin Boa alone in this hall of death to discover he himself is hung from a butcher’s meat hook. And that he must suffer and ache if he ever wants to lift himself free.

Spoiler

4. Causstik Rahn - Rahn, also in the room containing the winding section of the conveyor belt that Onyx finds himself trapped on, escaped the fate of traveling its twists and turns. However, he’s in no less a bad situation. One arm chained to the tiles of the dilapidated wall, Rahn is effectively the only person who might be able to do anything about Onyx’s situation. But he better have good aim. There’s a big red button halfway up the wall a small distance away, and no shortage of things to throw at it if Rahn can reach something heavy enough - could it stop the conveyor belt? And more importantly, can Rahn hit it? He better hope so. Onyx hides the key that will let Rahn try and escape. (See Darren Onyx’ start position.)

Spoiler

5. Zul Grimm - Zul Grimm is in equally dire a situation. Buried in the rusty trough that feeds these frenzied Bladebacks. He is soaked with ribbons of flesh, shards of bone, thick and viscous blood. Organs and all manner of gore. His body his bound tightly, a collar choking him to the point where it was uncertain he would ever wake for the Shows delight. The Force is unable to break or unhinge him from this grave of filth and slop. Spear like tusks are beginning to dive in to the soup and chomp down close. He will have to rely on Kyle Raymus to use the stake he had been stuck in the ground with to unlock the device holding him, or use his wits and figure another way out. (See Kyle Raymus’ start position.)

LOCATION 4
HAWKINS MANOR

The Hawkins Manor. It’s stood as a monument of this family since long before the Level was mostly taken over by a yearly show that turned the New City’s love for Halloween, Madness, Violence and Extreme Excess in to a Ratings firestorm. Built during the heyday of the family, some four generations prior. It’s made of Maena Black Wood, a strange material that feels rough and splintery to the hand, but stands as sturdy and strong as the duracrete that envelopes much of the rest of the landscape around it. It’s a stones throw from Hawkin’s High, a brisk walk from the Hospital, and perpetually bathed in the Applewood smoke from the largest Hawkin’s Meat Hook Plant. The windows are blacked out and boarded, the section of mock-yard filled with all manner of trashed Speeder and other more sinister looking trinket. It stands four stories tall, with three living floors and an attic as well as a basement that goes below the surface of the construction platform this section of city rests upon. Full of doors and staircases that lead nowhere, long halls and creaky noises. It’s a place that has seen many lives end. Many more driven to madness. Can you survive the secrets and traps of the Hawkin’s humble home?

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[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] | [member="Zahori Denko"] | [member="Asheda Tyr"] | [member="Halron Corr"]​

OPEN SPOILERS FOR STARTING LOCATION​

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Spoiler

1. Kyrel Ren - 2nd floor: Masters of the Force, Bill may say. Weak ass sheep in a world full of wolves. There is no Force, there is not Sith and Jedi and Dark or Light. There is just life and death - and Bill. Bill is Death. He’s seen it all man, he’s rode the elevators and taking the cars, and followed the paths. He’s seen the blackest blacks, and once even saw the World from the lip of the Volcano. That unreal, surreal, unfeeling land. No duracrete, no narrow alleys and sprawling vertical blocks. That place don’t exist, maggot. Only here, only right now. Only this pain that Bill gives to you is the real genuine stuff you kark. You soft Core World kark! (See Halron Corr’s start position.)

Spoiler

2. Jorryn Fordyce - Attic: It is absolutely sweltering where Jorryn regains consciousness. Hot, humid, unbearable air sits stagnant with not a breeze of relief, sticking and cloying to her skin. It is dark, but the place is lit by the white glow of an image rolling out of a projector. It becomes apparent from the slanted roofing and wood that this is, of all places, is an attic. But the floor is solid - no ladder to push down, no hole to drop through, and no windows on any of the side walls. No escape. Jorryn could spend all day tearing up the floorboards looking for a way out, stuck with the horrid movie playing in the background. Bill’s voiceover describes his experiments in loving detail, images of his human ‘art’ on display as he discusses details of his atrocious creations as if anyone truly cared to listen. But hopefully Jorryn would listen. Because if she watched, she might see that the floor didn’t used to be this way. And it might help her figure out where the trapdoor to the second floor below is.

Spoiler

3. Zahori Denko - Basement: A giggle cascades down through the feet of bone and dried sinew that comprise the pit in which Zahori Denko wakes. Feminine, bordering madness, the laugh disappears with its owner. A soft, yellow light glows at the distant mouth of the pit, barred by dozens and dozens of old bones left under the house from generations of Hawkins. They’re an old family, ones that respect their elder’s ways. And they’ve had a lot of time to let this pit grow. From here it looks near impossible to reach the top, trapped at the bottom of some figurative well. But bones...bones might just be climbable… (See Asheda Tyr’s start position.)

Spoiler

4. Asheda Tyr - Basement: The uncomfortable press of knee, shoulder, hip bones, decades-old vertabrae, would no doubt wake even the deepest of sleepers. Asheda would find herself at the bottom of the pit along with Zahori, trapped under bones. Some stretches were free of obstacle, just the steady descent of foot and handholds made of projecting rib bones and eye sockets. Other parts were obstructed by skeletons, and there the two would need to crawl deeper in to the wall of bodies on either side, working their way through a maze to the top. Though, that laugh that had echoed from above sounded no more pleasant than their current situation… (See Zahori Denko’s starting position.)

Spoiler

5. Halron Corr - The room is lit with neons and Jack-o-Lanterns. The walls are sprawled and laden heavy iconic imagery from the New City. A place that is decidedly rich in grotesque Americana-esque, and gruesomely vibrant art styles and symbols. Bill is off on a tangent, Asheda and Kyrel are just coming out of their fugue to realize the things he is saying and the plans he has for them. He’s talking anarchy, isolationism, occult ideals and the overthrowing of all order. When his dialogue ends he abandons them to their own devices, lets them begin to figure out how to free themselves from this place the Force cannot touch. Resident Evil Biohazard-esque game ensues. (See Kyrel Ren’s starting point.)

The citizens of the New City, the Slums - Maena at large, eagerly await the start of their favorite yearly bloodbath!​

They crowd around holosets at home, settle in at movie theatres playing the show on all screens.​

The wealthier levels gather in squares to watch the games on the big screen.​

Lower levels clamor in to bars, gather around stores with holosets in the window.​

Who will survive? ​

Who will become crowd favorite?​

Are the Hawkins the only villians among those broadcast to millions?​

Stay tuned to find out!​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

HAWKINS HOSPITAL
FIRST FLOOR
SPECIMENS LAB

Head hurt.

Why?

The stirring came slowly as Shule tried out every limb.

Legs worked, feet too. Toes. Arms, hands, fingers. It was only when he shifted his head that Shule felt the pain increase, but the moment he stopped moving his head... so did the pain cease. No blood, but when his hand brushed slightly across the back, through the hair, it came back between the state of sticky and dry.

Clubbed over the head.

Why?

Shule's eyes blinked open and were met immediately with the drifting small heads in the glass container. Small... children? No, the bone structure suggested otherwise. Hand brushed slightly against the condensation formed by his breath, it caused the electronic pupil to dilate, refocus its lens against the change in depth.

"This isn't good." It was the obvious, but stating it now gave him some measure of control in the moment.

It was the shattering of the glass deeper in the room that caused him to reevaluate his priorities. The jar was interesting, yes, but so was the continuation of his life.

With a soft roll, he dropped to the ground next to the counter and looked around the corner of the desk. Shadows, difficult to say, but the shifting of large mass as something lumbered back and forth told him enough. This was not the place that an academic wished to find himself at right now, his eye caught the glint of glass.
Broken, shattered, but it was the only thing close enough to grab without catching its attention. Quick movement: hand curled around the glass and firm.

It drew blood, but Shule only hissed slightly as the edge cut into tender meat.

Rather across his hand than to have that upon him while being defenseless. There was a door behind him, he eyed it suspiciously, hoping that it was oiled enough so he could slip past. "here's nothing..." Once the path was set Shule did not stray from it, the beast or hulking shadow or abomination caused another jar to fall as it started picking its way to his side of the room.

But Shule was already halfway through the door.

[member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Kellyn Muir"] | [member="Greta Kohler"] | [member=Liya]​

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[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member=Six-O]​

 

[Darth Athora]

Hawkins Manor
Basement


What a situation Zahori had found herself in this evening.

She slowly opened her eyes to the mass of marrow that was surrounding her. Her eyes jolted open as she gasped heavily. She had kept her composure as she was trained to do when in a situation like this. Instead, she looked around. The light above managed to penetrate the cracks in between the bones. She could tell she was several meters below the surface by how faint the light was.

Once Zahori managed to get somewhat comfortable and the creaking of bone stopped, she could hear breathing. Breathing that wasn't hers.

"Hello?" she whispered softly. "Is..Is there someone there?" she continued. Zahori tried maneuvering through the bones to find the other being trapped there with her. She knew that the only way she'd make it out is with this person's help. Hopefully, they were a friend rather than a foe. Should they turn out to have ill intent, Zahori was not above bashing one's skull with another skull.

[member="Asheda Tyr"]
[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Six-O"]

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

Hawkins Manor
Attic

Jorryn shot up panting as the damp heat of the room left her short of breath, quickly loosening the collar of her outfit to allow her long drawn out breaths. Her eyes quickly surveyed the dimly lit room as she began to bring her breathing back under control, the monitor being the only thing of note as a raspy voice began saying words with a swaying rhythm to them that carried a certain madness to it.

As she shakily stood up, Jorryn began to look for any sort of exit that she could to the room. She couldn't remember how she had gotten here, but the cloudy feeling in her lungs told her someone had gassed her into unconsciousness and brought her here.

She began feeling around the room and as that gave her no progress she began to slam into the walls and floors of the room, hoping that the wooden structure would give way. Unfortunately whoever had built this place built it sturdy, and as she reached her hand towards her hip she realised that the individual responsible had disarmed her.

Frustration began to build up as the sweltering heat of the room left sweat dripping from her nose and she tore her coat off of her, along with most of her armour that she had left. She began to feel around the screen playing the film in a now desperate attempt to get out of the claustrophobic room that she was trapped in, before falling back into a seated position as she resigned herself to whatever plan the madman had for her.

Jorryn's arms crossed around her legs as she bowed her head into them as an attempt to calm herself down, her hair messy from her fit of anger. As she calmed herself the same swaying voice came into her ears clearly as she raised her head to the bright monitor in front of her, now paying attention to the film in front of her.

"They desire to see us lose our minds to them, acting as some enslaved puppies willing to follow her words. But we refuse. And any that come on our doors will be able to find the hope that freedom, MY freedom, that I offer selflessly to the world."

The man fell back as the final words came out of his mouth, before a mad giggle made it's way through his cracked lips. He picked up some unknown syringe and pressed it into his arm, before falling limp into the chair where he was seated. The light of whatever he had been recording himself barely lit the room he was in, the same room Jorryn found herself trapped in.

It was only as the man fell limp that Jorryn noticed a shaking figure in the background, a humanoid man fighting to break free from rope pulling his arms towards the ceiling of the room. His panicked grunts increased as he thrashed against his fate, throwing himself to loosen the grip the room had on him.

Unfortunately for the figure the grizzled looking man shot up, this time with a crazed look in his eyes as he quickly turned to the noise his prisoner was making. He gave the man some words that Jorryn could not make out before grabbing the syringe he used on himself.

"Didn't I tell you, man. We- I, offer freedom for the controlled masses, it's this freedom that I will give to you."

He said to the man as the rabidness in his voice began to pick up, before lodging the needle into the figures neck. He leaned back onto the chair where he had been seated, seemingly admiring the man before making his way to a table that Jorryn hadn't noticed before. He came back with a knife, picking and pocking at the figure. Tearing away strips of flesh from the man who hadn't moved since the needle was injected, still hanging from his neck.

It was quite some time before the lunatic moved away from his canvas, before his head shot downwards towards the floor for some unknown reason. He had an upset look as his head traded from looking between the man and floor, before making his decision. He reached upwards towards a notched plank in the ceiling, holding it as he simultaneously hammered his foot into the floor before finding the sweet spot. No light came up from the room, but Jorryn could hear slamming before the man himself descended into the dark pit he had opened.

Jorryn felt herself reinvigorated as she made her way to the spot the lunatic had been, before feeling around for the notched plank on the wall. As her hands found it, she dug her nails to pull it sideways before looking for the dented ground the man had used to leave before. Looking down with fervour, it was the first time Jorryn noticed how the floor had been covered in dried blood that dyed the wood a brownish red. Pushing all thoughts except escape aside, Jorryn slammed her heel into the floor as much as she could before it finally gave way. A loud slam came as a piece of the door gave way to a dark pit, with only a damaged ladder visible.

Jorryn gave one last look to the screen as the lunatic's canvas began to stir again before screaming in a mix of hysteria and pain, a shrill shriek that made even Jorryn sick. Turning away from the dim light, Jorryn Descended down into the pit hoping that she would find herself in a better position.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]​

 

[Venthis Zambrano]

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HAWKINS HIGH,​

First Floor.​

​

Everything seemed as if it was fine. His life finally had a purpose. He was actually... happy.

Before things... changed. A tube forced down inside him, his oxygen levels almost completely depleted, though he remained there for a moment. It was almost as if it were all over. He was sure he was dead. Then his eyes opened.

He sprung to life, ripping the tube from his mouth with small splatters of blood flinging out along with it. He swam for the surface, barely able to do so. Gasping for air, he glanced about floating at the top of the disgusting water covered in some form of algae. His eyes peeked over the water, staring around the room. He felt it burning at his skin, causing him to quickly make his way out of the water.

Climbing up the ladder, with his feet slamming down onto the cracked tiled surface. He would lower his head, letting out a long exhale completely unaware of what he was doing here. He thought about one thing, getting out.

In the corner of his eyes, a pair clothes caught his attention causing him to wander over and slide the ragged black shirt along with a set of trousers, perfectly fitting his size along with a set of standard shoes. Almost like a uniform. Then he glanced at the barricaded door, squinting. Going to make his way over, he would stub his foot onto a hard object glancing down and noticing a sledgehammer. He was skeptical. Though he took it into his hands and marched over to the door gaining momentum and slamming the weapon into the door attempting to smash through.

"Arghh!" He shouted, attempting to use his strength.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]​

 

[Soundwave]

Location | Hawkins Meat Hook
Objective | Don't get eaten
Company | [member="Kyle Raymus"] | [member="Xin Boa"] | [member="Causstik Rahn"] | [member="Darren Onyx"]

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All was dark for Zul, engulfed in a prison of blood and flesh as his conscious awoke to find himself under a trough filled with chunks of meat, bone, and blood. He kept his eyes shut as he contemplated on how he had come to find himself in such a position, controlling his breath and remaining still as he sensed the ravenous presence of hungry Bladeback boars. He could not move at all, and not armed with his usual sabers to cut himself free, all he could do was patiently wait for the opportunity to break free, granted it would be a much more peaceful attempt if it weren't for the hungry boars trying to eat at him. Rather than try to wait for someone to come about and imagine to look in a trough filled with blood, Zul decided to take matters into his own hands.

Zul focused himself as he utilized the Force to try and break the restraints around him. Clearly, they did not work as he was still bound tightly and the boars continued to chomp closer and closer. Perhaps it would be in his best interest to create a distraction until help arrived to get him out of the trough. Zul would once more use the Force as he created a doppelganger of himself that rose out of the trough of blood and flesh, startling the boars in an attempt to draw attention away. The Doppelganger would leap over the boars as Zul used telekinesis to manipulate bone shards as makeshift weapons for the doppelganger to stab them with and draw them away from his true body.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Six-O"]​

 

[Jacob Crawford]

Hawkins High - Second Floor
Classroom

The darkness was the first thing Jacob noticed, even without opening his eyes fully he could tell he was suddenly awaking to a pitch darkness. His groggy mind slowly started to piece things together, the next being the fact he was sitting down.

Jacob was fairly certain he had been standing, surrounded by flashing neon lights not five minutes ago.

Something in the Sith Knight sparked to life, telling him that nothing about this situation was right. And yet his addled mind was keeping him grounded - until he began pushing back. The moment his eyes snapped open completely, the door leading out was sealed.

His looked in that direction, seeing nothing but darkness and perhaps a bit of light coming through the door's window. Although a second later, Jacob groaned as he felt his head lull to the side - lightheaded and feeling the lull to just close his eyes again.

Imogen.
New City.
Exploring.

Memories rushed to the front of Jacob's mind, reminding him what exactly he had been doing before. The fact he couldn't see or even feel Imogen through the Force forced more of grogginess out of his mind. He immediately went to stand up, only to slam his knees into the bottom of the desk he was sitting at.

Jacob bit back a string of curses, a dull throbbing pain burning out across his legs. It at the very least made him consciously aware of where exactly he was. Looking around he noted the lines of desks that surrounded him. It became blatantly clear just where exactly he had woken up in.

I'm in a classroom?

His eyes lingered over to the teacher's desk, where the only source of light sat. So focused on it, that Jacob barely sensed the pencil as it went soaring past his head and lodged into the wall behind him. Breath hitched, Jacob tried to centralize his senses, slowly trying to work out where they were coming, and from who.

But the darkness seemed to be a shroud capable of even obscured his Force Sense. Or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him.

Either way, as the second pencil was thrown, Jacob brought his hand up and with a swift flick - stopped the projectile before it could hit his ear. Another slight gesture and he sent it flying back towards the source, only for it to clatter to the ground not a few feet away.

He was weakened in the Force.

That wasn't good.

| [member="Imogen Daniels"] | [member="Venthis Zambrano"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Vulpesen"] |​

| [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Six-O"] |​

 

[NightSister]

HAWKINS HOSPITAL
Second Floor

Aria woke up in a sharp intake of breath, and her skin felt cold.

Breathing. Steady your breathing, Aria- pain. Sharp and concentrated like a bullet wound, but nothing so clean - uncomfortable like a rusted blade driven through her abdomen. She sat up to take a closer look, put a name to the damage.

Or rather, she tried to.

Slender wrists flexing against tightly bound chains as they tried to wrest themselves free added to the pain just enough to lend her an odd form of clarity. And through a lens like that, everything looked doubly cause for concern; music, shadows, the silhouettes of a dozen strangers. Blackness, pain, pain. She'd been told for as long as she'd let the Dark in that it was a pathway to power, but it was rare that Aria felt so powerless as she did now.

Her nature was war, and it was nice to imagine the war she could have brought on her captors if this had been a moment for fighting. But her nature, too, was reason. So she drew in breath through gritted teeth and lay down again, almost shaking.
Channel the pain, channel the pain. Think!

Slowly, her head turned to either side.

More shadows, more shadows, more blackness.​

​

More shadows- wait. Those were medical tools.
Aria was not a doctor by any means, but she knew that those were impossibly unfit for use.

Another breath. She looked further.

There was another gurney. And somebody on it. Somebody waking, unrestrained. Good.

"You." Her voice sounded half a growl, but it rang out loud enough to be heard. "I don't see a way out. Or much of anything, really. I'm thinking we help each other out here?"
It wasn't much of a question, but Aria had her manners.

| [member="Greta Kohler"] |​

| [member="Oran Shule"] | [member="Liya"] | [member="Kellyn Muir"] |​

| [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Six-O"] |​

 

[Xin Boa]

Xin couldn't remember the moments before he'd lost consciousness. He had come to the mega city for business rather than pleasure. Desperate for trade the Fleet had sent him to one of the levels in the centre of the city. In truth he hadn't felt out of place there, halfway between high society and chaos in a literal sense. He couldn't remember feeling threatened but what he could remember was hazy. If it had been a blow to the head it couldn't have lost him hours of short term memory. His head didn't feel right.

He didn't want to look down. That particular scent of cooked flesh and gore made him assume he had been shot. My shoulders hurt, he told himself. If they could hurt this much, then surely it would hurt where he had been shot. That was the extent of the logic that could force its way through his fogged up brain. Consciousness was coming in waves, but Xin regretted awareness returning.

He looked down. It wasn't the best angle to inspect himself but he was fairly certain he hadn't been shot. The floor was caked in many shades blood. Some old and dry, some fresh crimson. He didn't think any of it was his own. He needed to stop spinning to settle his vision and start thinking.

He kicked out a leg and caught the nearest object to stop himself spinning. Xin came to a halt facing that which his foot had found purchase on. His headtails coiled up in revulsion, his eyes grew even wider. Xin snatched his foot away from the skinned body hanging next to him. For all he knew it could have been human, but he didn't know what different species looked like under the skin. Grotesque remains of lifeless eyeballs looked down at him. Xin couldn't help but think that it looked almost like a cheap horror mask. Thus could not be real.

A desperate shriek cut Xin right to the core. He felt his breathing start to speed up, but he wasn't short of air. That voice had not come from far away. Suddenly he could recall the hulking figure bumping into him. That was what had roused him. The soiled apron. The gleaming implements.

This couldn't be true. That was what he told himself as he took in his surroundings. His throat tightened up, breath became laboured. Every one brought the scent of blood and flesh, until it seemed to choke him. It drew bitter bile up the back of his throat. There was another cry. Xin couldn't make out the words, but he could tell when someone was pleading by tone.

With a desperate grunt he tried to shake himself free to no avail. All it did was make a loud rattle that echoed around the room. His shoulders burned from holding his weight for so long, yet there was no way to relieve himself of that pain.

The nautical took a breath. Everywhere he went he got caught up in something awful. But rampaging droids and natural disaster had nothing on this. Xin found he couldn't force himself to become calm, but he could twist some of that primal fear into anger. Hone it into an edge and push on. He needed to act. Nothing he was experiencing now could hurt as much as being butchered alive.

The body next to him was just a body now. Unoccupied flesh and blood. Meat and bone. Yet it still made his stomach turn to wrap his shins around the waist of the corpse to try and find purchase. It was slick, slippery and Xin needed to get enough grip to take his weight and let him throw his chained wrists upwards. The nautolan growled in desperate determination.

 

[Imogen Daniels]

HAWKINS HIGH - SECOND FLOOR
LOCKER

A soft whirring infiltrated her ears, awakening her. It was soft, though seemed to fill her head, echoing around her.

Imogen blinked, vision blurry as she tried to take in her surroundings. Her head was pounding and as she tried to recall where she was, what she was doing - the pain in her legs kicked in.

Her muscles ached, begging - pleading a release, for her to sit down. As she went to sit down, Imogen realized she couldn’t. Elbows hitting the sides of the locker she was trapped in had her eyes snapping open - pupils widening in surprise.

Imogen didn’t know where she was - and that was the problem. The last thing she remembered was travelling around New City with Jacob - neon lights bathing them in their glow, wide smiles on both of their faces as they made jokes - lost in each other and their time together.

Reaching out with the Force, she searched for his presence to no avail, and she had to convince herself not to panic. Something terrible had happened. Looking around she found herself shrouded in darkness, a small sliver of light directly in front of her, though the majority of it was blocked by something.

Tilting her head forward she looked directly into whatever was before her, the soft whirring she heard growing louder and as she realized it was a camera - a gasp left her mouth, stumbling back in the cramped space.

She was being recorded!

Imogen then realized just how confined she was. Handings feeling around she realized she must have been in a locker. It was cold, the exposed skin of her arms, part of her chest, and legs were covered in goosebumps, it also seemed she was completely alone.

Though she couldn’t physically feel the presence of anyone in the Force, she tried her hand at banging on the ceiling of the locker - hoping to get someone’s attention.

The sound of banging against metal rang out - echoing in the emptiness of the hallway.

“Hello?!”

Calling out, Imogen listened for anything - any sign she wasn’t alone. She was met with an eery silence - one that left her mumbling under her breath. The camera left her uneasy, the whirring weaving it’s way into her brain and settling there.

Imogen had to get out of there. The latch from the inside was useless - there would be no using that to aid her escape. Instead Imogen opted for pressing herself against the back of the locker, raising her leg and kicking at the locker - the door vibrating under the force of her kick before she did it again… and again. Goal to weaken the metal enough to free her from her confinement.

[member="Jacob Crawford"] | [member="Venthis Zambrano"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Vulpesen"]​

​

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Six-O"]
​

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen groaned as he groggily rose from his position, a hand rising to rub his head. "The hell happened to me?" One day he had been wandering some seedy pub on the edge of the galaxy. The next, he was sitting in what he could only describe as an anatomy class gone completely wrong. A clawed hand rose up to pound his throbbing head while a bit of influence form the force helped to clear his thoughts, just in time to hear his instructions. "Well, that sounds sinister."

Slowly, Vulpesen rose up from his seat and turned to face his sole living companion. "And who are you? If your name is long, please shorten it. We don't seem to have much time." Even as e spoke, Vulpesen stumbled towards the viscera, his tail flicking behind him as he searched not only for its method of destruction, but also any signs of disturbance within the flesh.

In terms of sights to wake up to, it was certainly one of the more gruesome ones. And certainly, Vulpesen would have rather awoken to a beautiful woman, or a steaming cup of caf from one of his butlers. Moreover, he'd like to have his questions answered. Where was he? Why was he here? Who was this person he was with? Why the death and the oppressive weight of the dark side attempting to crush his mind? So many questions. And yet, in ten minutes he knew he didn't have time to ask for answers.

[member="Lark"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

Hawkins Hospital
Ground Floor
Near [member="Oran Shule"]

Liya had no idea what happened. One minute she was moving through a crowd of people in the market.... limited credits, limited time, but the necessity of both causing her to split up with [member="Gideon Blackford"]. She'd been bent over a corner stall, inspecting something- then pain and stars.

Black.

She came to slowly, the repetitive noise ultimately what dragged her up and out of the fugue.

It wasn't the first time in recent memory that she was waking up with no concept of where she was or how she'd gotten there. At least this time she knew who she was.

Sort of.

Liya- a borrowed name. Given by the Jedi Knight she'd taken everything from, even if she couldn't remember. His student. His..... she frowned and pushed the thought aside.

She reached up, wincing as her fingers pressed lightly on the back of her head. Tender, but no broken skin. Someone had obviously whacked her over the head and brought her here. But.... why? And where was here? Pushing off of the floor, she grimaced, frowning as she looked around.

"Hey....." she wobbled a little as she stood, but got her balance a moment later.

"Hey are- are you okay?" She moved slowly toward the nurse, hand out stretched. "Hey, you should sit..... let me take a look at your ankle...."

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Six-O"]​

 

[Darren Onyx]

A loud buzzing rocked his brain back and forth.​

​

His eyes slowly opened, only to shut as a blinding light gazed him down.​

​

His head was heavy. Where was he?​

​

Trying to move he met only resistance. He was chained down, yet he was moving.​

​

Onyx's eyes shot open and looked around. The last thing he had remembered was attempting to contact Thalia Faric, his old business partner, to ask her about joining him on a important job. Yet after falling asleep he was here, wherever here was that is. Looking around he got his bearings. He was on a conveyor he was chained too was quickly moving towards large saws. He cursed, "This isn't how I saw my morning going."​

​

Wise-cracking aside, the aging master quickly looked around the room to find any way of escape. It was a large white room, polished white floors stained with blood and scattered remains of various meats and carved up animals. There were various tables with tools such as knives and sponges to rub skin off the bone. He wasn't too far off from getting sliced himself, but then he saw someone else. The stranger had an arm chained to the wall. He didn't know how he could possibly help since he himself was effectively trapped.​

​

"Wake up!" He yelled. No response. Onyx cursed, "You better wake up or I'll kill you!" Still no response.​

​

Gritting his teeth in anger and frustration, Onyx eyed the sleeping man.​

​

"I SAID WAKE UP!"​

​

Sending the message through the Force wasn't enough as he then screamed and launched several of the tables and tools across the room. He was angry, he expected this man to get him out of this.​

[member="Causstik Rahn"]

 

[Lark]

Lark's most vivid dreams tended not to come whenever he slept. No, his most graphic excursions to the surreal world inside his mind had a tendency to come whenever he was knocked unconscious, which was happening at an alarmingly frequent rate. This time he dreamt of the orphanage that he spent part of his childhood in, entering into their care after he talked his mother into killing herself and his brother abandoned him. He was ten when he razed the place to the ground, leading a massacre of the caretakers and most of the other children that lived there. He walked through this memory, the fire burned as hot as hell and smoke swaddled lost and confused orphans like a cloth. Their feeble bodies coughed as they pounded at their bedroom doors, and others that fell under Lark's silver tongued spell brutally struck down the ones who had done nothing but care for them for since their very first breath. Lark watched it all with passive eyes, feeling nothing. Not hatred or anger. Not regret. Not a fetish for chaos. He just felt nothing.

He woke to the sound of a school bell, and for a moment he thought the dream hadn't ended, that he was stuck in some kind of second awakening, trapped inside his own mind, barred from returning to the waking world. But as he felt the polished wood of the desk his head rested on, the throbbing that came from within his skull, he knew he had awoken. For better or worse. His gaze slowly rose to examine his unknown surroundings, immediately noticing the mangled corpse posed like a cadaver where the teacher would normally stand. Behind that poor desecrated fool was a single word written upon a whiteboard, in a substance eerily reminiscent of blood:

Detention.

Lark couldn't stop the laugh that came from his cracked lips. "I've probably done something to deserve this," he said softly. Once the ringing of the bell subsided, the voice of a woman took it's place in disturbing the quiet of the classroom. She told of a key that was hidden somewhere within the classroom, and that he and the only other man still breathing had ten minutes to locate it.

As he rose from his seat, he twisted his torso and felt a series of satisfying pops. "Just Lark," he said in response to the man's inquiry. He seemed just as confused as Lark did, and while he was hesitant to trust the man, he was even more wary of discrediting the value an extra mind could provide in a situation such as this. Seeming to grasp the urgency of the situation, they both moved to investigate the area they found themselves trapped in.

While his new companion took a closer look at the body, Lark wondered if he truly was awake, or if he perhaps had died and was in the afterlife, trapped in a classroom as a constant reminder of one of his greatest crimes. It was uncannily similar to the classrooms in his orphanage, butchered body and all. But regardless, whether he was in hell or not didn't matter. He'd find a way to escape. The walls around him, incorporeal or material, could not keep him bound.

A quick once-over of the room revealed nothing of interest. Aside from the corpse, it was nothing more than a traditional looking classroom. Joining the other man, he too knelt in front of the violated man's corpse. Lark had seen a great deal of torture, even committed a fair amount on the mental level. Nothing he had seen compared to this. His insides had turned into an amalgam of gory soup, flakes and shards of bone, and other unseemly bodily fluids. The dead man's eye had been cut in half with startling efficiency, the cut as clean as one that the most practiced surgeon would make. His tongue had been forced into the exposed eye socket, and the skin that once held the man together had been flayed and eviscerated.

These grievous wounds covered the entire body, and it was still warm. Lark got the feeling that most of this torture had been inflicted while he slumbered not ten feet away, blissfully unaware of the misery that was being doled out. Could it just as easily been me, he thought. No, no time to think on that. The minutes were quickly vanishing. Without as much as a gag, Lark reached into the ragged lumps of flesh and dug around for the key. It hadn't been anywhere else in the classroom, so this was the next place to look. After about ten seconds of digging, he felt a small circular object stuck near the center of the man's ribcage. He gave the ring a tug, and it didn't budge. He pulled and pulled, and yet the key seemed to be molded into the pasty pink flesh.

Lark removed his hands from the man's innards, pale skin covered in warm, scarlet blood. He hadn't seen anything that they could use as a makeshift knife or saw, and ordinary school scissors could barely cut through construction paper, let alone flesh. But he couldn't just pry it out. He took a quick glance at the clock, the bell rang at four, and the woman spoke right afterwards. It was now almost five minutes past that. The only thing he could think to use was glass, but the windows were barred and there was no television. If only he could-

Wait.

The clock!

He turned and ran to the back of the classroom, yanking the circular clock off the wall. As he hoped, a thin layer of glass covered the numbers and hands. He set it on the ground, lightly stepping on it until he heard several cracks. Careful not to cut himself, he took two larger pieces of glass and brought them over to the body, offering one to his companion. "Might need your help for this," he said lightly. As he knelt back down in front of the corpse, his concrete heart barely beat, his demeanor as cold as ice and as calm as a light snowfall. I've burnt down a school before, he thought. I will do it again.

He ripped jagged pieces of flesh out of the poor sop's body. Whoever trapped them here would regret soon see the dire mistake they had made.

As he did back then, Lark felt nothing.

The monster awoke once more.

[member="Vulpesen"] [member="Imogen Daniels"] [member="Jacob Crawford"] [member="Venthis Zambrano"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Six-O"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Finally shaking off the last of his headache, Vulps turned to watch as [member="Lark"] when about his way, searching the body. It was like watching a caged animal, fresh from the wilds now wondering how it had found itself in a prison. One he returned with the glass, the zorren rose a brow and held up a hand, displaying the wicked claws that tipped his fingers. "Not needed. But thanks for the offer." The last thing he needed was to cut himself and mix his blood with this poor sod's.

Turning back to the gutted body, Vulpesen winced at the macabre display though he still lifted a hand to slowly dig into the out turned guts. While it wasn't the first time he had pierced a body with his claws, it was odd to do so and feel the squish before the cut. "Someone really had a bad day. And it seems they took it out on this poor bastard." He shuddered as fluids gurgled around his fingers the deeper he went into the body.

Despite his joking nature, and calm demeanor, there was a part of Vulpesen that could be felt quite clearly in the force. A burning fiery rage as hot as the tattooine suns. Right now, his job was to escape. After that, it was to find the killer of this man and find justice. True he didn't believe in killing besides a few rare situations, but if whoever did this was capable of this gore, then its very likely that they were capable of much much more... An amount that he could kill for. And even if that weren't the case, the code had no reservations about torture. And whoever did this would certainly pay by the Valde's hand.
-
Once the flesh was amply peeled away to give Vulpesen a clear shot, the zorren thrust his hand forward, easily piercing the meat that surrounded the keys. "Call me Vulps." With three words, Vulpesen ripped his hand back, a bundle of keys clinking dully as they followed his hand.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Kyle Raymus]

Location: The Hawkins Meat Hook
Situation: Really Bad
Body Condition: So far, only a small gash in the side.
Objective: Get out.

Kyle woke up. His eyes were streaming. There was a gash in his side. Some animal chewing on his flesh. The stink. It was unbearable. But the pain was worse.

As Kyle's mind cleared and his eyes adjusted to the dark, he started to see horrors, thing he wouldn't see in nightmares. No this was far worse. He was chained in a pen, a collar on his neck, connected to a stake driven deeply into the ground. Kyle howled in pain as the animal took a small, but painful chunk of his flesh. The pain was unbearable. The scream alerted the other beasties in the cramped pen, and the all began rushing at him with fury. Through years of training, Kyle learnt to suppress pain during a fight, but only to a certain point. He could steel feel his side burn. The blood stained his Admiral's uniform. It hurt, oh how it hurt.

But now was not the time to think about pain. Kyle pulled on the stake as another boar charged him. He was surrounded. Another tug. Another shot of pain. Kyle kicked away the boar that was mauling him. The kick did little more than by Kyle a tiny bit of time and agitate the boar. Another tug. The stake was almost free. One more tug. A boar launched itself against Kyle, knocking himself into the fleet admiral, sending the latter flying across the room. The stake came with, as it was tugged free by the energy with which Kyle flew across the small pen. Kyle's neck screamed with pain, but it wasn't broken. Not yet. Kyle scrambled to the stake and picked it up, driving it through a boar's head. Blood flew everywhere, but here, it didn't matter. The entire place was covered in blood. Kyle pulled the stake out again, and went for the next boar. The second one dropped down as did the last one. Kyle continued to drive the boars back, but there were too many, and space was scarce. Kyle was forced against a wall. Surrounded. Helpless.

Suddenly, out of nowhere appeared a man. Kyle wasn't aware of the fact that it was a force created doppelganger. The being leapt between the boars, murdering them using shards of bone, each as sharp as a blade. Boars started dropping as the being cut them up, getting rid of 4 boars that way. Kyle was lucky, and he seized his chance, ridding the two boars which were left of life. Everything was silent. While before, the pen was filled with the screeching of the boars, now it was void of any sounds. An eerie silence swept the area. It was bone chilling, most certainly.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNLhxKpfCnA

Is there anybody out there?

Kyle looked around the pen, but couldn't see the being that just saved him from a horrible, gruesome death. He scanned his surrounding. 8 corpses. A lot of blood. Animal guts spilling out all over the floor. But he survived. For now. Relief swept over his body. He smiled. A small, sickly smile. And then the pain returned. It drowned his conciousness. He clenched onto his side. The blood dropping to the floor with a distinctive "PLICK" was his.

Is there anybody... out there?

[member="Zul Grimm"]

 

[Asheda Tyr]

Hawkins Manor
Basement

"Hello?" she whispered softly. "Is..Is there someone there?

Asheda was awoken suddenly to these words, a gasp escaping from her mouth, head throbbing widely similar to that of a hang over, 'What the kark happened last knight, arrg my head, where am I and who's was that voice'?

Looking around the entire area was unfamiliar, and eerie gloomy feeling engulfing the young Torugta, "hello, who is there"? Soon a figure pushed their way through the bone pile from which they where embedded in, a woman with long blonde hair, a dark precance around her, something felt off, but it was nothing compared to what ever she had gotten herself stuck in.

".... ummm, w-w-w-ho might you be", the awkwardness of the situation and the constant feel of dread that washed over the area made her stutter the words.

[member="Zahori Denko"]

 

[Causstik Rahn]

Interacting With [member="Darren Onyx"]

@The Butcher's


Causstik growled and mumbled as he awoke from his slumber. He could not recall what had happened, he was in a bar pedalling his “wares” when suddenly things went dark. It was the oldest slaver trick in the book. A poisoned drink… And Causstik had fallen for it. He felt like a knit wit. His heat sensing eye took a moment to register everything around him, something… No someone was calling to him from far away. Causstik could tell that much even despite the pounding headache. Causstik took a look around and found several of his T’doshok comrades butchered, filleted and hanging skinless. Many body parts lay strewn about the Trandoshan and Causstik stared at them hungrily. He had to figure out how to get free before he could eat though…

Causstik yanked hard on the chain but it was made of a sturdy metal. He’d need the other sentients help if he was going to get free. Causstik reached for one of the limbs lying on the floor and grabbed it. He studied the thing closely for a moment and found it to be an arm. He threw it at a large red button that shouted “Press me and the death machine will stop!”. Needless to Say Causstik missed. He was never very good at Huttball, he always simply prefered to pound people to a pulp as a lineman… He reached for another limb and picked up a slice of cranium.

“Heads up!” He shouted as he tossed the half’a’dome towards the button.

The forehead struck the red button just moments before the man on the belt was sliced into pieces. Causstik stared at the man a moment before finally deigning to speak back to the shouting pissant

“I freed you now you help me!” He growled. Causstik wouldn’t even eat the man if he freed him. There were plenty of body parts around to feast on. While most were his former comrades, Causstik was not picky when it came to his meals. He smiled a toothy grin at the man as saliva poured from his jowls. He was very hungry. “Quit your crying and free me already!” Causstik roared. He was about ready to gnaw his own arm off he was so hungry… It would just grow back anyways

 

[Xin Boa]

The Meat Hook

[member="Darren Onyx"] | [member="Kyle Raymus"] | aXin Boa | [member="Causstik Rahn"] | [member="Zul Grimm"]


Whilst he'd thought he'd found some purchase his right leg slipped free. His shin was now coated in slick, reddish-brown gore. The sounds pleading became more desperate. Xin could heard the thwick thwick of a metal blade being sharpened. With renewed vigor Xin walked his legs up the skinless, dangling corpse until he hooked his legs over its shoulders. Xin had been around death since he was a child during the clockwork rebellion. He had seen people die in gunfights, been executed or just wink out of existence in the flash of a freighter being destroyed.

Death scared him as much as the next person, but he'd love with the risk that it might catch up to him. But he didn't want to go like this. If you were shot you had a few moments to content your mistakes and then you were gone. He couldn't even begin to comprehend what it was going to be like to be butchered alive. To be witness to your body being taken apart piece by piece until the pain became so great it brought relief through slipping into unconsciousness.

A scream from the next room made him realise that was a reality for someone else. If he could get down perhaps he could find a weapon and stop this. Save the owner of that voice before it was too late. With a growl and a surge upwards he slipped his chains from the hook.

Xin lost his footing and fell quickly to the concrete floor. His head and shoulders struck the ground hard and everything went bright white. Concussion didn't knock him cold. Instead he was left lying helpless on the ground. The world - horrific as it was - span endlessly. He was left vaguely aware of the cries from the next room until they died down.

Slowly his faculties returned. He realised what the end of the cries meant. Failure. That noise was replaced with the roar of the water being sprayed somewhere for a few seconds. Then that too stopped. The thwick thwick returned.

Trying not to sob Xin started to wriggle forwards and deeper into the forest of hanging bodies. His feet struggled to find purchase on the slippery floor, his headtails left winding patterns through the gore as he did nothing more than try and work his way out of sight to ensure he wasn't next.

 

[Komo]

HAWKINS HOSPITAL - 2ND FLOOR

Her eyes slowly opened as she gradually woke, her gaze sweeping across a dark, unfamiliar ceiling. The sound of old-fashioned music from an era long past echoed through the walls of the room assailed her recovering hearing. As her focus recovered enough for her to make just a little sense of what was going on, Greta tried to get up, but a sharp concentrated burst of pain on the upper left side of her body forced her back down with a groan. She scrunched and frowned as she took slower breaths in an attempt to calm herself.

Gritting her teeth, she fought through the pain and eventually seated herself upright, the pain still ever present. Looking around, she realised she was in some form of operating theatre and the very object she sat on happened to be none other than a gurney. Reaching over to try and locate the source of the pain on her left shoulder, no matter how she reached, she just couldn’t seem to find the source.

She’d no memory or recollection of how she ended up in this place. No matter how hard she tried, it just wasn’t there. It was like she was suffering from a form of short-term memory loss or something. Her feet touched the cold grimy floor covered in dirt and some form of slime that gave her shivers. It was just then that Greta heard a voice. Distinctly female and calling from nor too far away. Following the source of the voice, she saw another woman on a similar gurney to hers, the only difference, she was strapped to it whereas she had not been.

The other woman spoke, suggesting that they help each other. Greta gritted her teeth as another wave of pain erupted through her shoulder. She gave a brief nod as she walked over to her. Looking at the primitive and rusty surgery tools made her stomach churn. Beginning to examine the straps pinning her to the gurney, Greta asked. “Where do you hurt?”

[member="Aria Vale"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Six-O"]