TDM 005

[etrayamods]

⏵ arrival ⏴ Arrival goes as anticipated. Characters awaken in a sterile hospital bed in a clean, white room to the hum of machines under the unnatural lighting common to well-kept institutions. Every bit was designed to be comforting and calming, even with the jarring undercurrent of this situation. The first face they see is Aurora's: her smile appears to be warm, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She might offer a quick explanation, or leave characters to figure it out for themselves depending on their approach. The door to the room swings open, revealing a hallway that stretches out ahead of them. There’s noise from outside and strong pumpkin spice scents coming from the lobby. Ah, muffins and tea. Grab one and head into the crisp, sunny fall morning ahead. ⏵ potluck ⏴ Cutthroat Iron Etrayan Bake-Off As you step out of the arrival holding area into the main thoroughfare, the entire street has been turned into tents and chef stations to accommodate the activities of thirty people at once. There’s seats, trailers, and robots bustling about to make sure everyone is ready. A couple of cheerful robots in aprons and colorful sweaters approach and redirect you as you step towards the cooking area. There’s gas ranges, ovens, grills, blast chillers, mixers, and set walk-ins and pantries with just about every ingredient you can imagine. There are cameramen (also robots) patrolling the area to capture all your best moments and to broadcast them directly to your fellow citizens’ devices. Your instruction? “Make your signature dish. You have one hour, chef.” It can’t just be straightforward, can it? The land itself is held together with pure chaotic energy. If you’re lucky, all goes as planned. If you aren’t… well… Roll a Die 1 Your leg is now tied to another chef’s 2 Your meal is continually un-cooking itself. 3 All of your ingredients are pickled now 4 The longer you touch an ingredient, the bigger it gets. 5 Every time you lift your pot lid, a component changes. 6 The aromatics are glowing and flashing like LED lights. 7 Your knife has been replaced with a cheese grater. 8 The ingredients are now magnetically stuck together. 9 Your meal is becoming deep fried. 10 Kittens are multiplying out of the cupboard. * 11 All of your ingredients have become incredibly heavy. 12 Your cook pot moves burners whenever you turn around. 13 Eggs scream when you crack them 14 The kitchen has become incredibly slippery. 15 It’s soup now. 16 All utensils have been replaced with crustaceans. ** 17 Your knife has a mind of its own. Watch out! 18 Your fridge catches fire. 19 Your pasta is trying to escape. Go get it. 20 Any ingredient not in the pot starts to float away. * All kittens disappear at the end. ** These however, stay. ⏵ share a meal ⏴ As all the cooking concludes, you will be invited to plate your meal into one of many casserole dishes, regardless of what was made. A ladle will be tucked into the corner and placed on the table with a folded bit of cardstock declaring the chef’s name and the name of the dish. A helper camerabot will come around to each participant and ask for their thinking and their process. Even if you got away without having to cook, even looking towards the table of dishes will spur a helper bot to start making you a plate with one of everything. The helperbot will insist that it is rude to not at least try what their peers have made. In fact, if you are to fill out the score card for each person, you really must taste everything! The robots can’t try the food, so it’s up to you. The cards look like so. The grading system is opaque. Is it meant to be numbers? Stars? Letter grades? Well, you’re the judge. You figure it out. Chef: ___________ Dish:_____________ Judge:___________ Overall Rating:_______ Flavor Presentation Stackability Wet Originality Rizz ⏵ tummy ache survivor ⏴ No matter how well your compatriots cooked or baked their dishes, there are… factors. You see that carrot? It’s really just condensed chaos in the shape of a carrot. No matter how powerful you are, these particular ingredients may not mesh with your being. …And even if it is truly a carrot, do all the chefs know the proper cooking temperature of chicken? Even chickens are aliens to many. (Optional) Roll a Die 1 Tummy Ache. Go lay in bed. Complaining alleviates symptoms. 2 That plate of food has energized you. You feel compelled to race or spar. 3 The food has reminded you of home. You must tell someone a detail of your childhood. 4 That food was so horrible that it simply must be washed out somehow. Spicy peppers? Booze? Gravel??? You’re going to over do it. 5 You have now discovered your new favorite dish. Make them teach it to you or you’ll lose sleep over it. This is all you want to eat for the next week. 6 The oddity of the ingredients has transferred to you. You start floating away. 7 The range of food and textures have inspired you. Acquire an annoying new hobby or habit. 8 You are now haunted by the digital souls of chickens. ⏵ NOTES ⏴ Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

Brandon Carver | The Walking Dead

[fortitudosalutis]

Arrival

[ Carver awakes with a start, grabbing at a wound on his chest that suddenly, violently, isn’t there anymore. He digs his nails in, searching for pain, for blood, for an anchor to attach himself to in the midst of abject fucking confusion, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a hospital bed, almost offensively clean, and a woman’s calm voice.

Some thrown furniture later, he’s out in the hall and left to his own devices. The moment he spots another person, he’ll shift instinctively into a combat stance. ]

What.

[ The whole place smells like Starbucks. He wonders if he’s having a psychotic break. ]

Potluck

[ The insanity is continuing, apparently. Carver stares dumbly at the robot, rigid and uncomfortable in the sudden abundance of light and noise and people, to say nothing of the food smells. There’s so much food—just like the old world. ]

Yeah, fuck this.

[ He’s going to find a knife, thanks. ]

Wildcard

[ OOC: Carver was in for a few months, but is clean-slated here. Have at it! Hit me up at mirrorfaded if you’re in the mood for something specific. ]

arrival

[cybertron_gravitron]

[Carver shifting into a combat stance, while possibly not the right decision, is an entirely understandable one. Giant robots are very good at setting off the fight-or-flight response solely by existing.

Even a round, friendly one doing nothing more than calmly sipping an odd glowing substance.]

I don't know what. You hungry? They've got food and drinks. Which is kind of the least they could do considering, y'know, all the kidnapping.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ One of the earliest lessons the commander told them was to expect the unexpected. Learn how to read the logic of a place, yes, and act accordingly, but be able to adapt because sometimes God just decides you’re due for a test and flips the board on your ass. The Valley was the first test, then the dead. The world swung one way and the pendulum never did return. In combat, Carver knows what he has to do.

But this?

This is something else entirely. He stares at the—robot? Massive, talking robot. Becuase that’s happening, apparently. ]

Okay, [ he says, somewhat blandly. ] So, I’m definitely losing it. That’s fun.

[cybertron_gravitron]

You might be!

[Because he could be losing it entirely independent of the reality of Cosmos' existence.]

I'm not a hallucination though. Name's Cosmos. How about you?

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver tilts his head, doglike, trying to suss this thing out. He has to crane his neck a little. ]

Uh huh. Why Cosmos?

[ He doesn't offer his own name. ]

[cybertron_gravitron]

[He shrugs.]

I dunno. The fact that my alt-mode is capable of independent spaceflight probably has at least a little to do with it.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Okay. He knows what all those words mean individually. Not in that order, though.

So, that's fun.

Carver stares for a long moment. Then he exhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. ]

Okay. Sure. Why aren't you flying out of here?

[cybertron_gravitron]

...because randomly flying off without knowing where I am in relation to literally anything else is a good way to end up dying alone in the cold, dark vacuum of space?

[Long distance space travel wasn't something you did lightly even when you did know where you were going.]

It's not rocket science. Well, okay technically it is? But it's really simple rocket science.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver just stares at him. A childish part of him resents having to try and work regular logic into this situation, but this is where he stands. You have to adapt to the conditions you find yourself in. ]

What about GPS? Maps, shit like that?

[ Please, God, give him some logic. ]

[cybertron_gravitron]

You do realize they kidnapped us, right? I think giving me access to whatever they've got for a galactic positioning system would kinda defeat the purpose.

[Cosmos and Logic didn't always have the best relationship, but he'd been a soldier for a very long time. He knew how these things worked.]

I do have more than a few starmaps rolling around in the ol' brain module. Unfortunately being stuck in an alternate universe means they're worse than useless.

But hey, if you've figured out how to fix either of those I'm all audio sensors.

[fortitudosalutis]

I don't know anything. And you're a talking robot.

[ The rules are different now. There's been a sea change, maybe not unlike the one that saw the dead start walking. Nothing will go back to what it was before. He sees that now.

Carver cocks his head, doglike. ]

So, we're not on Earth?

arrival

[tocastashadow]

[It's pure boredom that's driven Shadowheart to wander through the hospital looking for new arrivals. Scratch trots alongside her, the big white dog occasionally pausing to sniff the ground or poke his head into a room. People seem to come and go frequently in Etraya. To what end? Where--

Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of crashing furniture, Scratch barking, a man appearing looking ready to fight. She reaches over her shoulder for her spear, but pauses when she recognizes the person standing in front of her.]

Back already, are you? I didn't realize you'd miss me so much.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ A woman with a white dog stands there, a spear at her back. There's a moment where Carver settles, preparing himself for a fight against an enemy with a reach weapon, but -

But then she pauses, and speaks like she knows him.

He gives her a narrow look. ]

I know you?

[ He'd remember a face like hers, Carver thinks. Her shock of white hair and that scar cutting across her nose. But then again, he forgets a lot of faces in the field; there's no point in remembering all of them. He's got too many ghosts already. ]

[tocastashadow]

Don't tell me you've forgotten.

[She stares at him for a long moment, wondering if he's serious, if he's actually forgotten her. There's no hint of recognition in his eyes, no sense that he has the faintest clue who she is.

Every once in a while, the opportunity for a prank presents itself that Shadowheart simply can't pass up.]

I know forgetting one's wedding anniversary is a bit of a stereotype, but forgetting one's wife entirely? That's a new low for you, Carver.

[But she won't keep the ruse up for long. She's sympathetic, after all; having lost vast swathes of her own memory, she knows what it's like to meet someone who knows more about her past than she does herself.

She lets it sit in the air for a moment before she laughs at her own joke.]

A jest, I assure you. You're not my husband, and I'm certainly not your wife. But you were here before, and we were allies. Knowing you, you might not believe that, but we might as well start somewhere.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ There's a long pause. He stares at her, unblinking as she brings up wedding anniversaries. Then: ]

What.

[ Of all the things to have thrown at him now, in this particular aftermath, it's so absurd that for the first time in years, he's not sure how to respond. There's something dreamlike about the moment, a step to the left of real. And then she laughs and he just stares at her again. Trying to make sense of it. ]

Okay, [ he says slowly. He probably has head trauma; this is super fun. ] Where's here?

[tocastashadow]

Etraya. [The last time they met in this hospital, she had been as stunned and confused as Carver was. Now, at least, she can explain things a little better.]

You didn't pay attention when she was talking, did you? [She can't help the snide little dig.]

You've been forcibly brought here because every world is in danger of being destroyed and we're meant to prove that ours are worthy of saving. Don't play along, and your world won't make the cut. That's the story, anyway. Not that I believe it for a moment. People like you and I don't get chosen as heroes to represent the best of anything, let alone an entire world.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ It's a lot of information thrown at him all at once, some of it so fantastical that he wants to laugh but can't. He knows liars, in the end; everyone but his brothers and sisters qualify, yes, of course, but he knows how liars move and this woman doesn't hesitate at all her. Her voice remains steady even past the momentary snideness; she says what she says and whatever the cause, whatever reason she has to remember it, she believes.

His jaw works. He considers what's in front of him. A woman with pale hair and a lingering dog. A question of worthy versus unworthy and the obvious result for failure.

Not unlike home, as it turns out. ]

What does worthy mean here? [ he asks softly. His gaze never leaves her, not for a second. ]

[tocastashadow]

[Shadowheart watches him as she speaks, looking for any indication that her words are sparking memories for him. To no avail, it seems; he doesn't look like he recalls a thing. How many times has she been in his position, she wonders, having to have the basics of her life explained to her?]

If anyone knew that, we'd be much better off than we are.

[Having determined that Carver is not an imminent threat, Scratch decides his time is better spent trotting off to inspect a nearby empty room.

Shadowheart meets Carver's gaze with a frown.]

Come along. We need to work together if we're to have any hope of getting to the bottom of all this and getting home.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ He gives her a long look, considering whether it's worth it to listen or just try to kill her and take the spear. Assess on his own, try to figure out where he's gotten to and what's required of him. Surely, this is a test.

But he doesn't know the rules, is the thing. He doesn't know what counts as a victory condition.

Carver exhales through his teeth. ]

Okay.

[ It's said grudgingly. For now, he'll follow her lead. ]

Who're you, anyway? Since we're not actually married.

[tocastashadow]

[She stares back at him, half-wondering what he'll do and whether she'll need to subdue him, and feeling a certain amount of relief when he agrees.

But his question immediately puts her back on the defensive, preemptively bristling at a reaction he hasn't had yet.]

Shadowheart.

[She remembers his response to her name the first time he heard it.]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ She says it like she expects a reaction. He cocks his head, doglike. Watching her for a long moment, the silence spreading out between them.

Then: ]

Really?

[tocastashadow]

We've been through this tired palaver before, [she snaps back, no more immune to irritation now than she was the first time. She knows her name is unusual, and not the name her parents gave her, but it's hers.] Yes, it's my real name. And yes, you were precisely this insufferable about it the first time.

[fortitudosalutis]

Palaver, [ Carver repeats, testing the word out because it seems to annoy her. This role he's stepped into unknowing and seems to be hitting all the cues for. ] Fancy. Are we dead?

[ It's an old interrogator's trick to switch tracks right in the middle, to keep people off balance. ]

[tocastashadow]

[Something tickles at back of her mind, a memory of a woman's voice tetchily correcting her pronunciation, as it wouldn't do to have her tongue give away her poor breeding. No doubt something Mother once said to her.

Carver's getting under her skin again, and her tone makes that obvious.] I suppose to those of ill breeding, even the most mundane of words must seem fancy.

[As for his question, Shadowheart knows all the tricks, even if she isn't skilled at using them.]

By all means, do keep changing the subject until you're satisfied that we're on the same side. [She glowers at him.] We're not dead.

[She knows enough about the afterlife – the afterlife of her world, anyway – to be certain of that. She may not be certain which god will lay claim to her soul, if any, but she knows where her soul is bound when she dies. And yet... Those ghosts had warned her that those who failed Echo's tests, those whose worlds were destroyed, would be trapped here after death for eternity.

The truth, or merely another cruel trick? Her hands clench and unclench, the blackened skin on the back of her hand uncomfortably tight around the unhealing wound there.]

You spoke enough of your god, the last time you were here, that I'd think you'd know what happens to the souls of the dead.

[fortitudosalutis]

Don’t mind the village idiot, [ he drawls, pulling the words apart like taffy just because. ] Mama weren’t big on book learning.

[ It’s easy to pull masks, to mock. He’s used to people thinking him stupid; let them. It provides openings. Even so, her words bite at him. All these things she knows or claims to know, a context he’s climbing through blind. But he watches her hands and that clench and thinks, ah. You’ve got doubts, too. ]

Dead’s dead. Souls? That’s philosophical. I might have to break out the big words for that one, Shadowheart, and then where would we be?