Novama
One Thousand Club
Mentions:
II-CinderRadcliff-II
upscalerat
DarkKitsune
Parrot Parfait
Spoiled Bread
OOC: I took some liberties with the opening narration. Rp will run on a weekly schedule, so post at least once in the week but feel free to post more and in any order so long as its not twice in a row. talking and communicate to each other your plans on posting. Nothing worse than a week going by and no posts appearing because everyone is waiting on someone else to post. If that happens, I'll close the thread. Current plan is to run the rp about 2 months. Rounds may go faster if everyone posts at a decent pace.
Time: ???pm
Weather: chilly but not freezing
Cooldown:
TLDR: Characters awaken in a chamber of body and foreign technology. They could buy themselves some time by tampering with the control panels that may shut and lock the door to the hallway of the approaching enemy. To the opposite side of the room was the locked door of their escape.
Post Listening:
In the gloaming of an ancient chamber where science and sacrilege danced a macabre waltz, the characters' senses stumbled back to them—one by one, as if reluctant to reveal the full horror of their surroundings. The air was thick with the copper scent of ichor, punctuated by the sterile sting of ozone and antiseptic. With a dull thrumming in their head, they pieced together the world: stone and metal, shadows and whispers, the echo of their own breath—a rhythmic pant that bespoke panic yet constrained.
Around the party lay the remnants of bodies, or what once were bodies—now grotesque assemblies of flesh interwoven with gleaming construct sinew. The dim light flickered over surfaces too smooth to be natural, casting an otherworldly pallor on skin that had not felt the sun in ages. To their right, a myriad of surgical tools lay scattered on a tray, their purpose as sinister as their serrated edges.
Above, the domed ceiling loomed, lost to darkness, save for a weak orb that emitted a sickly light, too feeble to challenge the shadows that clung to the corners like cobwebs. The high shelves of what seemed an eternal library of knowledge bore down upon them, a mausoleum of thoughts and theories that had succumbed to the dementia of their keeper.
The rhythmic sound—a steady clink-clank, like chains through a pulley—grew steadily closer. The perpetrator of their captivity, the creator of the horrors that surrounded them, was not far, his approach as inevitable as time itself.
A series of consoles blinked and beeped along one wall, a chorus of silent alarms and unseen eyes, perhaps a means to halt their captor's progress—if only for a moment. On the opposite side, a door, its ancient wood incongruous with the high-tech lock that sealed it, offered the sweet promise of escape. The lock, an enigma of gears and glowing runes, beckoned to Lauren’s burgeoning sense of desperation.
They had to act, and act swiftly. To dally was to delve deeper into the dark designs of a mind unhinged. To interact with the environment was not only to engage in a battle of wits with the environment itself but also to race against the slipping sands of an hourglass they could not see but felt acutely in their quickening pulses.
With the dark genius of their pursuer, the very walls seemed to whisper secrets in a language lost to sanity. They must listen, decipher, and employ these secrets against the architect of their doom or crueler fates.
Their escape would not be merely physical but a fleeing into the unknown, into the spaces between breaths, between thoughts, where the possibility of freedom still glimmered faintly—as fragile and precious as the light of a dying star.
II-CinderRadcliff-II
upscalerat
DarkKitsune
Parrot Parfait
Spoiled Bread
OOC: I took some liberties with the opening narration. Rp will run on a weekly schedule, so post at least once in the week but feel free to post more and in any order so long as its not twice in a row. talking and communicate to each other your plans on posting. Nothing worse than a week going by and no posts appearing because everyone is waiting on someone else to post. If that happens, I'll close the thread. Current plan is to run the rp about 2 months. Rounds may go faster if everyone posts at a decent pace.
Time: ???pm
Weather: chilly but not freezing
Cooldown:
TLDR: Characters awaken in a chamber of body and foreign technology. They could buy themselves some time by tampering with the control panels that may shut and lock the door to the hallway of the approaching enemy. To the opposite side of the room was the locked door of their escape.
Post Listening:
Chamber of Horrors
In the gloaming of an ancient chamber where science and sacrilege danced a macabre waltz, the characters' senses stumbled back to them—one by one, as if reluctant to reveal the full horror of their surroundings. The air was thick with the copper scent of ichor, punctuated by the sterile sting of ozone and antiseptic. With a dull thrumming in their head, they pieced together the world: stone and metal, shadows and whispers, the echo of their own breath—a rhythmic pant that bespoke panic yet constrained.
Around the party lay the remnants of bodies, or what once were bodies—now grotesque assemblies of flesh interwoven with gleaming construct sinew. The dim light flickered over surfaces too smooth to be natural, casting an otherworldly pallor on skin that had not felt the sun in ages. To their right, a myriad of surgical tools lay scattered on a tray, their purpose as sinister as their serrated edges.
Above, the domed ceiling loomed, lost to darkness, save for a weak orb that emitted a sickly light, too feeble to challenge the shadows that clung to the corners like cobwebs. The high shelves of what seemed an eternal library of knowledge bore down upon them, a mausoleum of thoughts and theories that had succumbed to the dementia of their keeper.
The rhythmic sound—a steady clink-clank, like chains through a pulley—grew steadily closer. The perpetrator of their captivity, the creator of the horrors that surrounded them, was not far, his approach as inevitable as time itself.
A series of consoles blinked and beeped along one wall, a chorus of silent alarms and unseen eyes, perhaps a means to halt their captor's progress—if only for a moment. On the opposite side, a door, its ancient wood incongruous with the high-tech lock that sealed it, offered the sweet promise of escape. The lock, an enigma of gears and glowing runes, beckoned to Lauren’s burgeoning sense of desperation.
They had to act, and act swiftly. To dally was to delve deeper into the dark designs of a mind unhinged. To interact with the environment was not only to engage in a battle of wits with the environment itself but also to race against the slipping sands of an hourglass they could not see but felt acutely in their quickening pulses.
With the dark genius of their pursuer, the very walls seemed to whisper secrets in a language lost to sanity. They must listen, decipher, and employ these secrets against the architect of their doom or crueler fates.
Their escape would not be merely physical but a fleeing into the unknown, into the spaces between breaths, between thoughts, where the possibility of freedom still glimmered faintly—as fragile and precious as the light of a dying star.
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