Post by The Twins - Victor & Charlotte on Jan 23, 2021 23:39:12 GMT
Charlotte never likes those times when the Entity comes to call.
It's not due to the job she is ordered to fulfill, and it's not because the manifestation of the dark deity is enough to turn her legs to jelly.
It's simply because her brother is left rattled within the malevolent presence.
So when the Fog comes rolling in over the forest floor, thick and suffocating, Victor screeches at the rapturing sight of the dark mist and quickly scampers to his sister. He crawls back into the safety of Charlotte's chest cavity as the older twin sets her jaw grimly and rises. She squares her broad shoulders forward and tucks her free arm around her younger twin; rubbing one thumb over her brother's head in soothing motions.
The malformed girl stares expectantly out at the shadowy haze, which pools and hisses around her ankles like some kind of malevolent black snake. Phantom claws trail over frostbitten skin. Charlotte shivers slightly; feeling as though her spine's been turned to solid ice.
It's time to redeem yourselves. There's a ruffle of cold air and a ghostly voice; a chant as sweet as poisoned honey. You kin come forth on the threat of deep suffering.
"We are ready to do your bidding, Maîtresse." Charlotte growls. Her knuckles whiten on the handle of her sickle.
Do not disappoint me again.
The Fog closes in on prowling feet, hungry to swallow up the Twins. It ascends into a chill wreathing of black and seems to consume the two siblings, devouring them in a whirl of mist as they are carried to the location of the newest hunt.
Realm: Mount Ormond Resort Cosmetic: Default Offering: No Offering Perk(s): Coup de Grâce (Tier 1) Generators: 0/5
Meg was getting pretty fucking sick of snow. They Entity saw fit to give her all manner of sportswear in the form of tank tops, tennis skirts, and an assortment of leggings and shorts. However, the big spidery bitch in the sky sure liked plopping her in Ormond in a skirt of all things. God forbid she get jeans any of the last 2 miserable times she ended up here.
If the Entity was gonna dress her like Soccer Barbie, the least it could do was put her in that goddamn saloon in the middle of the desert.
She'd thrown the shiniest coin she had into Evan's fireplace when she felt the fog rolling in, sitting in front of it with the begrudgingly acceptance that overcame her before every trial. Evan had left for his own earlier, so she knew he wouldn't be the monster seeking her demise today. However, when the warmth of the fire faded and the shadows disappeared again, Meg was staring at the old ski lodge with a curiosity.
It didn't feel like Legion was present. Of course she didn't know for certain but something felt off. Bad vibes.
Spotting a chest, she walked the few steps up the hill too it and crouched in the shadow of the Ski lift support above her. Hopefully she wasn't right on top of the killer as she had before. Gazing across the map she caught a glimpse of a killer's shape against the darkness before quickly looking away. Meg just wanted an easy in and out this time. Optimistically she'd find a shitty toolbox or something to help at least. But with her luck...
This could be interesting.
________ Cosmetic: Default, Tennis Skirt in white. Item: None Offering: Shiny Coin Perks: Sprint burst 3, Adrenaline 2, Quick and Quiet 2, Object of Obsession 1
The chill in the air told David exactly where he was before he even opened his eyes. Ormond was an unforgiving realm, the cold metal of generators making repairs more of a pain than normal. Keeping his hands limber added another layer of difficulty to an already Herculean task, which placed Ormond as one of David’s least favorite realms to be sent to. He was luckier than most, though--his admittedly ragged coat and woolen sweater had carried him through many a cold Manchester winter, and he was not unaccustomed with traversing through the chill of snow. Repairing generators in the snow was in a whole other league, though.
David had admittedly not been thinking as he offered a white ward to the Entity when he became aware of the impending trial. He had nothing prepared to be taken, all his tool boxes and medkits left empty after an impulsive reorganizing and his more rare items were safely tucked away. The offering he made was a waste as is, unless he collected an item during the trial. Better find something damn good to take back.
As his eyes adjusted to the bright white of light reflecting off the snowy ground, David was able to take in his surroundings. A generator was to his left, a few odd boulders placed around it with a pallet between two large ones perpendicular to the generator. The pallet would service him nicely enough as a means to create some distance to get to the structure situated in the corner, around 30 meters from him as a rough estimate. A generator also seemed to be somewhere between the walls of that structure, so David had a good plan on where to go after finishing this one--assuming all goes well, that is. Let’s get a move on, then.
The gen closest to him was the best place to start. He had neither heard the killer’s heartbeat nor seen another survivor in his quick survey, which meant the killer was either one of those silent blokes or far from him, and he had to go at this alone. Not the worst start, at least--there had been many occasions where he found himself located near enough to the killer that he only had moments to prepare before they were in pursuit of him. David was always up for a good chase, but he liked some time to adjust before a bloodthirsty killer was on his heels.
Trudging through the snow, David closed the short distance between himself and the generator. His hands were already stiff from being in the cold, a certain numbness setting in that was only amplified by the cool metal touching his skin. David pulled his hands away from the generator, alternating for a moment between rubbing them harshly together and breathing into the palms of his hands. A quick flex of his hands led him to determine he was ready to begin working on the generator for good. He didn't like not knowing where his friends were, but David knew he would only be a detriment to the team if he ran around searching for someone else when there were generators to be repaired. In the meantime, he turned his attention towards the generator. He was bound to come across someone eventually.
Cosmetic: Battle Mullet, Foggy Day, Cargo Trousers Item: None Offering: White Ward Perks: We're Gonna Live Forever 2, Dead Hard 2
When some kid told Bill that he would be thrust into a world without much notice, he wasn't expecting it to be colder than a bitch's tit! Hell, all he even got to his name was some cloth made by a Vigo he threw into a fire and some worn-out tools in a box he found prior to being dropped in like a babe. He wasn't completely in the dark-- he's got a bit of information on what the hell he was supposed to be doing here. But as far as he knows:
He has to avoid some kind of "killer" stalking the area. He has to start up five generators with three other people to power an exit gate.
He has to survive.
Out of all of these things? The best he's got is surviving. There's nothing this man hasn't survived, save for his final breaths making sure others kept going. Fingers run through thinning silver hair as he begins a march off of the hill he's found himself on. While there was a generator here-- it was in the open. And Bill wasn't about to put himself in plain view of everyone, especially not in clothes that don't camouflaged himself at all.
Bill wanders for a while, keeping himself low to the ground and hiding himself behind cover when he can. If he hears the slightest hint of a groan or a moan or a hiss-- or hell, even crying... He purses his lips, shaking his head and exhaling smoke from his nose. Right, then. Time to figure out something for a generator. Or one of those bone piles he was told about-- a hex? He just had to kick over the hex thing and it'll get rid of it, supposedly. If it was glowing, that is. If it wasn't, well... wasn't much use to get rid of it. Much more trying things to do.
The veteran hisses through his teeth, the cold was making his knee act up. Untreated pain and cold weather do not match up.
Well, what's Bill going to do? Stand around and whine?
"Let's go, then. It's colder than a whore in winter."
Cosmetic: Default Item: Worn Toolbox Offering: Vigo's Shroud Perks: Left Behind 1, Borrowed Time 1, Unbreakable 1
Post by Dwight Fairfield on Feb 3, 2021 1:52:13 GMT
A sudden chill in the air approached the Male who sat atop of a log. Leaning near the campfire, as his hands are enveloped along one another. Thumb brushing against the back of the opposing hand for a moment, while he squeezed his hands tighter and closed his eyes behind his frames. He felt it coming. Immediately he shoots himself up, walking over to that same spot Jake taught him to use and mark for where he placed his possessions. Clothes, Med Kits, Tools, Keys, various miscellaneous while his hands pulled along the handle of a med-kit and one of those coins he found occasionally. Placing the stuff to the side, he buries his things once again before pulling himself up and throwing the coin straight into the flames. The Entity's call was agonizing, especially for first timers who hadn't been around but for Dwight..? He would watch as a stream of smoke would rise up from the burning of the coin. He felt his eyelids growing heavy for a moment, better to succumb than to fight.
A rush of streams passing right through Dwight's grey jacket would cause the male to shiver and wake up in a shock, shivering hues dyed that of almond nuts would scan the area, Dwight finding himself instead the Lounge in the realm that belonged to.. the Legion? No.. something was wrong.. This feeling was.. Dwight was dreading this. He would allow his eyes to trail around, confused and vexed at this feeling of terror he couldn't shake off. Dwight would immediately look around to survey the area, the broken down building with various holes and tears. He would walk towards the middle, seeing the dormant generator before adjusting his work out tights. Fuck-- it was colder than he thought. He would adjust the beany on his head, pulling down to cover his ears before making his way towards the upstairs of the building.
He hadn't come across anyone or heard anything, which means things are going smooth or hadn't started at all. The creaks in the old wood did send a shiver down his spine, and he'd remove his hand from the rail. Making it up to the second floor, he looks for a nearby window that isn't boarded up, only to take a step out into the blistering cold that offered a balcony. He gazes along the details of the pure white snow that engulfs the scenery, eyeing for any sudden motions or tracks.. but to be honest, he wasn't that great at playing eye spy. He sighs for a moment, inhaling through his teeth as he tries his best to adjust to the cold. This.. wasn't going to be easy. He didn't have a key this time either, so he had to be vigilant.
C'mon Dwight, Let's get to it.
The Leader would find himself traversing back into the Chalet, making his way back downstairs before looking around for any Auras. Outlines he usually had a simple time recognizing... he could tell there was someone who was at least athletic.. but in a skirt? He squints for a moment, before looking around to observe any other auras but unable to really put his finger on it. The closest one looked like a bulky build, probably another man. He shakes his head, before focusing on the generator that burned his hand with it's icy touch, retracting it for a moment before steeling his nerves. He was going to finish this.
Post by The Twins - Victor & Charlotte on Feb 7, 2021 2:30:31 GMT
The cold. Charlotte hates the cold.
It's an old enemy; delivering crude memories of hunger and darkness back to her in the same ruthless way a criminal is thrown to rabid dogs. She can feel the bitter wind blowing before she even blinks awake. Her ragged clothes offer meager protection against it, and the piercing draft sinks right into her bones. The purplish scars peppering her limbs ache slightly.
A seeming wasteland of dirty snow and frozen wood is all which stands to greet the older twin as she opens her eyes, growling softly. Victor hisses in similar discomfort when he catches glimpse of their surroundings, and draws back as far as he can into the warm space of his sister's chest.
"None of that." Charlotte clicks her tongue in disapproval and taps her brother firmly between the eyes. "We have a task to fulfill."
Her younger twin parts his maw in a grumble of complaint when his sister unbinds him. Charlotte stifles a grunt as a heavy, tinging numbness moves to occupy the space previously filled by her brother. Victor pushes out from her abdomen and hits the ground with a muffled plop.
A patch of crimson is left blooming in the younger twin's wake as he races off with a shill screech, scurrying through the chill of the winter landscape on blood-encrusted legs.
The barren earth flurries by in a blurred stretch of white and grey as Victor rushes through the snow, hunting for the nearest piece of meat. He snarls and rounds a hunk of odd metal, which is standing iced over in the storm. The strange pipes and bulky pieces of iron protruding from the sides are still and silent; nothing is here.
The younger Deshayes bares his teeth and continues searching.
Searching through the chest provided her with a shitty old medkit. It was busted, taped on one side and held together by a clasp that had rusted unto near uselessness. Still, the bandages inside were very real and would do the trick in a pinch. It may just save her life. So, with the nasty old thing in one hand she shuffled away from the chest.
The cold was already numbing her legs and she flipped the bird at the nasty bitch in the sky. Fuck her and her cold ass trials and for putting Meg here in arguably the least amount of clothing possible. She didn't know how Kate managed in her assortment of crop tops and shorts. The runner would probably just lay down and accept the sacrifice at that point.
Still, a generator wasn't far and Meg trudged up to it as numbness sunk into her bones. A part of this realm that the newer survivors didn't realize was just how tedious trials got. Meg had been pitted against nearly every killer and certainly every realm that the spider goddess had to offer. It was a repetition that allowed Meg to remember things. Where chests would tend to appear, the general area a generator would spawn in, or even the placed the hatch would occasionally open. Memorizing this things made it easier to get out, regardless of which merry murderer you were faced with.
Her fingers were always clumsy on the wires in the cold, and while she avoided a blowout, the progress was slower than she would have liked. It would have been easier if she'd been stuck in the damn swamp and Meg didn't say that lightly. Hopefully the other survivors were on generators too. The quicker they all got out the better.
“Most people run a race to see who is fastest. I run a race to see who has the most guts.”
With a deep breath, David set off to work on his generator. The metal chilled his hands uncomfortably, making his fingers seize up. Still, he didn’t have any choice other than to keep at it and get them the hell out. It made things much easier to move quickly and get things done before the cold really started getting to him--he found it much, much more difficult to complete repairs the longer the trial dragged on in Ormond.
David twisted at the cogs deep within the generator case, musing to himself how different these things were to real machinery. He had done his fair share of repairs on cars and in shop classes before coming to the realm, and the things he was doing to repair similar mechanisms now were only slightly similar to what he was used to. It was for the better, he supposed; tools were a bonus, not a necessity, and improving at repairs required practice moreso than technical skill. It was probably just another thing the Entity didn’t get quite right or even simple mercy so they wouldn’t struggle so much with repairing all the generators and powering the gates.
In his thoughts, David barely caught the irregular jolt in the cogs, scrambling to get things in working order lest the killer--whoever they may be--be alerted to his presence. In a stroke of luck and quick reactions, David managed to get the cogs working better than they even were before, the first piston pumping noticeably quicker than it had been before. David sighed in relief, more than happy to put off his meeting with the killer for a little longer. The identity of the killer was still unknown to him, which was admittedly not ideal.
It was unfortunate as well that he had yet to see any of the other survivors--even if being split up led to quicker generator progression, it was nice to have someone to both be on the lookout for the killer and help speed up a single generator’s repairs. Beggars can’t be choosers, though, and David was happy enough to sit and work on his generator for as long as he could.
The Entity deems it just to rend from Her grasp the existence of an old Veteran, and instead replace it with a different kind of veteran: one moreso geared towards the realm. A much, much younger man with a scraggly mess of a mop on his head and a thicker, equally unkempt beard.
Jake Park exhales at the scene of the landscape. Ormond. The only snowy place in the realm. Thankfully, Jake found himself wearing his red windbreaker. Small victories. He supposed that the shitty spider goddess decided that he was worth keeping around. He's going to continue to stick it to previously mentioned shitty spider goddess by refusing to give up hope. Even when it's cold as hell in this place. He's expecting the Legion-- if he was lucky it would be the one with no eye holes. That one always seemed a little more hesitant than the others, a bit easier to give the puppy eyes to and hope for the best.
He sure as hell isn't expecting the sound of what sounds like a fucking goblin? That's weird. It's new. It's foreboding and Jake sure as hell isn't about to stick around and find out what it is. Maybe it's just... some kind of hallucination. Yeah. He's going to hope for that and pretend it isn't anything terrible.
Fingers curl around the worn toolbox that was dropped by spider asshole when he was swapped out. Looks like he was left some goodies. That's good. That's at least two good things that the Entity has given him.
But this also makes him suspicious. Why was spider bitch being nice?
There were faint footprints of boots in this area. So whoever was here before seemed pretty far away from everyone else. All the same print. So, he could try and hedge his bets and say that he was most likely further away from everyone-- killer included. But it could also be that the killer was right around the corner. And he couldn't rely on stealth when his outfit was completely off color from his surroundings. So no reliable hiding.
Crouched low, Jake grit his teeth and wandered over to the first thing he saw in his gaze: a generator. On a hill.
Well, he would die on this hill. He was completely willing to die on it if it mean he would start, progress, and eventually finish a generator. The best part was when he did it right when the killer was about to grab him, too.
"God, I hope my teammates are competent."
Cosmetic: Scruffy Jake, Red Windbreaker, Waterproof Cargo Pants Item: Worn Tools Offering: Vigo's Shroud Perks: Iron Will III, Calm Spirit I, Saboteur II
Post by Dwight Fairfield on Mar 11, 2021 6:28:55 GMT
Usually someone would have showed face by now. Wary eyes darting from left to right and occasionally over the generator as Dwight perked up to check the other side. He let's out a somewhat uneasy sigh, gripping the wires for a moment before sticking them together as a single piston begins to fire up. The cold that embraced his phalanges as he digs into the generator to adjust certain loose and undone bits... If only this could benefit him in the real world. If he had the chance to be apart of the real world again... Well, it's not like he had anything but that shitty office job to go back to. Hell, even now he didn't have much. He could feel himself swelling up with these mixed feelings, only for the button he pressed to cause the generator to blow up in his face, immediately retreating to cover himself and shaking his head. "Oh, shit..!"
Damn it, Dwight..! They're definitely gonna come over here now..!
He scurries onto his feet, wondering if it would be best to commit or if he should just make a break for it. There was no heartbeat, but also no screams of agony to be heard over the somewhat jittery generator. He decides to turn on his heel and head upstairs, best to not leave an invitation for whatever Killer who planned on making their presence a unwelcome surprise. Back up the creaky stairs he'd find himself traveling. Not running, but decently spaced steps so he could make his way up to the second floor. Instead of heading outside, he takes a right into one of the conjoined hallways that lead into a room with a mattress, boxes, and pallet. He would proceed to make his way through the room, stopping to stare at the locker for a moment only to continue.
Dwight finds himself on the opposing balcony, making his way out into the blistering cold once again before locating the nearby crane and jungle gyms. He could risk going down the stairs, but there was an opening to land on the coated floor and make his way to yet another generator. Decisions decisions. He ponders for a moment, tapping at his chin before leaning against a corner of the wall just in case. If the killer makes their presence known maybe they'd do a simple routine check or, more than likely do a thorough scanning. He figured this was a good place to stay stationary, until deciding when he should return to the generator.
Post by The Twins - Victor & Charlotte on Mar 11, 2021 18:20:43 GMT
Victor growls impatiently as he tears through the abandoned lodge, narrowly avoiding smashing into chair legs or slamming against the stone foundation of the fireplace in his blind rage. So far there have been no signs of any meat, and frustration is quick to boil up within the testy hunter.
Gnarled claw tips rupture pinprick holes into the ragged carpet as the younger twin flies up the crumbling stairs leading out to the balcony. Slit red eyes glare hungrily down past the frost-riddled platform as the boy crouches at it's edge and peers furiously through the storm for scrambling prey.
The whirling snowflakes nearly create a whiteout in the way they dance, thick and heavy under a bright blanket of flat blizzard clouds.
Meat. Meat. Where's it hiding?
Victor squints and opens his jaws to taste the air, snorting angrily through a burst of icy breeze which abruptly stings his face.
A slim figure hunkers in the cold perhaps 600 or so feet away, crouched on the crest of the nearby hill. The sack of meat is hunched over, fiddling with a series of wires and gears sticking from the frozen flank of one of those misshapen boxes sitting dumb in the snow.
Victor's black lips curl back into a snarl of pleasure at his discovery. He hurtles off the balcony and skitters over the glassy surface of the winter landscape on all fours, struggling for a moment to reclaim his footing when he hits the ground.
Then, taking off with renewed heart at the knowledge of distant prey, Victor bolts around frigid boulders and between snowdrifted tree trunks before finally reaching the slope and pouncing for the meat with a feral screech.
From her position on the generator, it was a struggle to finish it. One fuse popped in her face, and she had to work extra hard to fix her progress. However, the sound of a snarl and a distinctly male sound of surprise told her she was safe...for the moment. It was sad that other survivors misery was a good omen for her, but she accepted that it was necessary for her survival. There was no chance she'd make it out if the others didn't take hits of their own.
Sure, Meg could outrun, out-manuver and outsmart most the killers, but the other survivors had to as well. There was only so much Meg could do in a trial. She saw someone slip past a building in the distance, and hoped that whoever it was would make it. Unless maybe it was Ace. He could take a death or two.
Threading together blue and red wires, she fixed a misshapen gear and twisted the pieces about until they all fit together properly. It was a task, fixing the old machines. Hell, most of them didn't know how at first. Select few had experience with similar tech, and has helped out the struggling many who didn't. Even when they didn't get along, there was a fellowship among them.
Meg was a little concerned, not yet knowing who the killer was. It wasn't Herman, Freddy, Sally or Anna. Their telltale sounds weren't present. She'd seen none of Amanda's jigsaw boxes or the Demogorgon's vile portals, nor Evan's traps...Who the hell would it be?
“Most people run a race to see who is fastest. I run a race to see who has the most guts.”