Carnival/Temple Expedition

[The ship is quiet. Unnervingly so.

Far apart, two groups gather for their trecherous expedition according to Meth's orders, weapons ready and minds steeled for the dangers ahead of them.

Let's hope someone remembered to bring the body bags this time!

Halloween party - part five!

As the red mass slithers away through the bowels of the boat, passengers who took the deal will vanish as well.

The Captain turns to James LaPointe, the heron at his side; he's furious. "Fool."

The doctor doesn't reply, and the rest of the crew, clearly shaken, remain silent but for Redd's First Mate.

"The passengers, sir," she starts to say quietly. In that moment, Meifeng appears to be the most level and clear headed of all the crew members. "We'll have t'do somethin'."

Redd doesn't turn in her direction, but looks out across the room at the passengers, many of whom are in need of medical attention.

"Harumph," he mutters under his breath.

The ship groans and shudders and lilts to the side. The remaining passengers who have avoided getting hit by the shards of the red boxes are whisked away and reappear scattered across deck seventeen.

Knowing that several passengers are in need of medical attention, Redd thoughtfully transfers enough supplies and instruments from the clinic to accomodate all those in need. There are two lines of cots situated against the long walls of the deck. Every thirty feet or so, a station of cabinets sit, each filled with all of the supplies any doctor or surgeon could want. By each cabinet is a sink with soap. Cleanliness is next to Reddiness.

Infected passengers appear a full ten minutes later on deck seventy-six. Having taken no chances, Redd has dunked each and every one into a giant tub of the same blue liquid which came from the overhead sprinklers earlier on deck twenty. After their blue-baths, they appear in what appears to be an unfamiliar quarantine zone. A single door at the stern of the ship is locked tight, and any other attempts to leave, such as teleportation, are blocked. Thankfully, they have cots to sleep on, medical stations, and two large restrooms with toilets, sinks, and showers for their comfort.

The only thing that Redd does not provide is doctors. None of the crew members, including Dr. James LaPointe and Autonomous Medical Unit 92-XG-3, have been transferred to either deck seventeen or deck seventy-six with the passengers.


Passengers are on their own for getting their wounds attended to. All injuries can be treated as they would under normal circumstances, with the exception of the red whorls of the infected passengers which cannot be healed or removed as of this point.

All non-human passengers return to their normal state of being twenty-four hours later, at 8pm PST.

Passengers unlucky enough to have died during the attacks will revive on deck seventeen at the same time that the rest of the passengers are whisked there.

Unfortunately, due to the encounter with Redd's unexpected guests, far more time has passed outside of Deck 20 than expected. Passengers who look at their communicators will see that the date is no longer November 1st, as expected, but November 3rd.

EDIT: Clean clothing (medical scrubs) are available at all medical stations.

Uninfected passengers who are capable of moving are able to leave deck seventeen, or carry any others from seventeen with them, and return to any of the normal passenger decks but deck twenty.

Every passenger is still in possession of their communicator and no matter what deck they are on, will find them fully functional as they usually are.

Passengers who revive from the dead will revive naked and uncovered. Have fun with that, kiddies.


Halloween party - part four!

As the passengers either accept the deal or suffer through the agony, the heron has finally wriggled her way past the table barrier. She stalks toward the writhing mass of red and spreads her wings, crowing loudly. The mass lashes against the deck, scoring marks across the wood and lifting planks, but it desperately wrenches away when she flaps her wings. She rears her head and flaps again and the mass lets out an ear-piercing scream, thrashing violently. Light fixtures shatter in an arc away from the heron and the floor planks peel up, paint scraping from the walls. The passengers are hit with powerful gusts of air that calms the anger and hatred bubbling inside them as she beats her wings, and in a burst of light she transforms.

In the heron's place stands a beautiful, elegant woman with piercing eyes. Her skin is tinted red from the glowing figure, blue suit appearing almost black in the light, dark hair cascading down her back in delicate waves. The mass of red screams again at the sight of her, hovering and twisting in a swirling form in front of her. It does not attack, and the two face each other in a silent, tense showdown for almost a minute, until a loud, slow clapping echoes from the back of the room.

Eiren strides towards the battle zone, his applause slow and mocking and expression casual, almost amused. He smirks and tilts his head toward the woman, who barely reacts. "Nice. Well done. You almost got away with it there."

The crew exchange glances and shirk away from Eiren, putting either the passengers or furniture between themselves and the man, some muttering his name under their breath. The passengers find themselves weak, from either the influence of the red mass or the blue liquid -- depending on whether or not they took the deal -- or blood loss from the vicious cardinals. They are vulnerable, and Eiren seems to know it as he sidesteps the blue puddles, ignoring the artificial rain pouring from the ceiling.

"You know, I almost didn't believe it myself." He scratches the side of his nose with his thumb and strolls right up beside the red mass, seemingly unaffected. "But it's true. It's fucking true. You thought you'd get away with it, didn't you? How long did you think you'd get away with playing both sides for fucking fools?"

[[ooc: After the conclusion of the Heron and Eiren thread, another thread will begin for those who wish to show their appreciation to Eiren. Each encounter will be treated separately, unless several characters at once would like to gang up on him!

Please note: ALL EXITS ARE LOCKED. Passengers cannot phase out / teleport / blast their way out.]]

Halloween party - part three!

Redd stalks over to a set of tables, slapping snacks and punch bowls from their surface and knocking them over. He stacks several of them atop one another and forms a makeshift barrier. The heron clacks her beak and fluffs her feathers as he forces her inside, then makes for a nearby lever on the wall with a tag hanging from it that reads: DO NOT PULL.

"Up you worthless currs, get the boxes!" he snaps at the crew and they scramble to obey, dodging cardinals as they dart from the room. He grasps the lever and yanks; the sprinkler system sputters to life, but what falls upon the heads of the passengers isn't water. It's a thick blue liquid that smells strongly of formaldehyde and bleach. It will make their eyes water and their stomachs churn and will burn the insides of their mouth if they ingest any. The cardinals scream and writhe as it soaks their feathers and they drop wetly to the floor, fluttering and stumbling.

Redd bangs a fist against the wall. "Kill them!" He doesn't seem to be ordering the crew, as they've left upon their previous order. No ... he seems to be talking to the passengers.

Redd's head swings about furiously as he looks for someone -- or something -- but as he opens his mouth to demand an answer from the chaos in the room, the crew returns with the boxes. They set them on the ground and lift the lids.

Where previously the boxes had poured forth a screaming pain and hatred, now they do the opposite. The cardinals on the ground are dragged into the boxes as if by invisible fingers; their wings flutter and tiny claws scrabble weakly for purchase against the deck as they are sucked in.

The boxes expand as they absorb the cardinals, seeming to grow larger and larger before bulging and twisting as they struggle to contain the enormous loads before bursting entirely. The crew lunge for the shards of the boxes and Redd, for once, looks concerned. The flecks that strike passengers will burn like white-hot metal and burrow into their skin. The scar it leaves will be a red whorl, and for those unlucky enough to be afflicted, the blue liquid on the ground will feel and smell like a horrible, corrosive poison when touched.

The fragments that don't infect the passengers coalesce, gathering together in a throbbing, seething mass of red. It writhes and lashes against the deck like a burning red whip, and as it gains mass the passengers will find themselves unable to focus on it. Their heads will begin to ache, the pain increasing into an agony that drives them to their knees; every bad feeling, every speck of hatred or anger or suffering they've ever felt in their lives will return full-force, the feeling of it all immobilizing them to the point of physical pain deep inside of their bones.

A voice begins to speak, to all of them, to the individual. It hisses like a whisper that's as loud as a scream.

They were the ones who destroyed your home.

Visions flash into the passenger's heads. Thousands of worlds, millions of homes. Their homes. Images of the crew they know so well, reveling in the pain and anguish of those being brutally slaughtered.

Meifeng setting a red box on the floor of the new Solomon's Temple and opening it; the building seems to rot from the inside before collapsing in on itself.

Meth building a new "training hall" in Spargus, and watching with a grin as she systematically sets off inescapable traps to butcher those locked inside. Those who temporarily escape her notice turn on each other in paranoia and fury fueled by her open red box.

Gambler -- looking surprisingly lucid -- holding his box cracked open as he walks down Main Street of Disneyland in Anaheim, California. He stops in front of a group of children wearing Mickey Mouse ears and asks if they'd like some special candy.

Guy sitting on a giant metal arm with blue and red armor; a filthy, sobbing woman huddles on the ground as he scribbles furiously on a clipboard. A red box is open nearby and the White House collapses behind him.

Siran strolling through the streets of a ruined Ba Sing Se, sipping a cup of tea.

AMU pleasantly dissecting the corpse of a child as Costa del Sol is swallowed by the tide behind itself.

Keane flipping through a book listing the dangers of dragons as he lounges in a boat away from the rotting wreckage of a nearby rustic village.

Jamie walking into a hospital room and calmly telling the patient to shut up before the building shakes with a devastating explosion. He's the only thing left among the wreckage and as emergency response arrives he pulls out a red box and opens it, sending waves of terror throughout the surrounding city.

One, a loving smile on her face, her hand on the cheek of King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule as his body stiffens and Hyrule Castle collapses, a tiny red box pouring forth pestilence and disease.

The Stewardess sitting on the ground in the center of a room strewn with the body parts of at least a dozen people. She holds the disembodied head of a Buddhist monk in front of her, forcibly cracked open, and uses a fork to voraciously eat the brains inside.

Mihaila walking calmly through a stream of bullets towards an army blockade, a wicked smile on her face as she snaps the lid of her red box open and holds it out towards the terrified soldiers.

They've done this to you. Orphaned you. Robbed you.

The voice in the passengers' heads curls like a living thing, its metaphysical teeth sharp and stained a lurid red.

I can free you from Redd. I can give you what you need to have your revenge. Choose me and I will help you bring justice to these murderers. I will give you the power you need to have everything you could ever want.

Passengers tempted enough to accept the offer will feel the pain vanish but the hatred intensify. Their limbs will strengthen, past their usual fitness, past what they've ever felt upon the ship. Redd has no hold over their strength anymore. The blue liquid on the ground feels like acid on their skin.

Slowly, the flow of the blue substance runs out, diluting until there's nothing more than ordinary water pouring down from the sprinklers, showering the cemetery with a cold rain.

[[ooc: Once the blue stuff hits the cardinals, characters are free to kill them. Use this post for reactions to the pain/wtfery and other such treachery.

Additionally, if your character takes the deal, THEY WILL BE DROPPED PERMANENTLY. Never to return, including the sandbox after the game. Please do make sure you don't want to play them again in the after-game dressing room!

Please note: ALL EXITS ARE LOCKED. Passengers cannot phase out / teleport / blast their way out.]]

Halloween party - part two!

As far as well-mannered frivolity goes, the party is well under way.

Suddenly, with a flourish and a spotlight -- it's not clear where from, to be honest -- Captain James Wolfgang Redd appears on a makeshift wooden stage, arms spread wide.

"AHEM." He clears his throat loudly, and gestures to the crew who remove themselves from socializing -- or drinking or sulking in corners -- with just a look. They begin to distribute games and the like across the room; pin the fangs on the vampire, bobbing for apples, pumpkin carving contests, etc. Redd takes the center stage with the tall, elegant heron at his side; her neck is long and slender, and he sets a hand lovingly atop her head as he clears his throat to speak.

"Enjoying the party are we? Good, good!" If you were to look closely, you might notice that there are dark rings under his eyes (well, darker than usual) and he looks tired and slightly manic (well, more tired and manic than usual). He stares around the room with a wild look, then opens his mouth to speak.

He is interrupted, however, by a single red cardinal. It lights upon the ground, plump and tiny, only meters from Redd's boots.

The Captain stills; Meth drops the poster of the vampire she was attempting to hang. Guy quickly grabs a nearby cocktail and downs it and Keane very, very slowly sets down the tub of water he'd been carrying. Their eyes fix on the cardinal, wide and bulging, and it tilts its head to return the stare, chirping and hopping to the side.

It takes to the air swiftly, too quickly to be physically possible, and dives for One. She gasps in surprise, raises her hands, but it slips between her fingers and dives into her mouth. Her throat bulges as it moves into her belly and she's jerked into the air, as if a meat hook had been dug into her spine and yanked her straight up. She hangs feet above the ground, limbs jerking and twitching, appearing almost comical in her cheap witch's costume, except for the way her eyes and mouth open wide.

A voice tumbles out of her throat; not hers. Deep, hissing and seething, demonic and chanting, stuttering in an unknown language.

The crew begin to panic; Redd's eyes narrow and he pushes the heron behind himself. The bird ruffles her feathers indignantly but the voice continues to sound, unending, without pause. The language begins to sort itself out; passengers begin to understand, as if they'd heard that language before, as if they'd spoken it their entire lives.

The voice is chanting numbers. Hundreds of them, thousands, firing off in rapid succession like some kind of numerical roll call.

One's head jerks to the side and her wide eyes fix on Captain Redd. Her hands twitch and her lips move with the voice as it rumbles lowly:


One bursts; her midsection bulges, then explodes, showering the Captain, crew and guests with fluids. Lubricants, water, coolants. Her innards -plastics and hoses, rubbers, metal- spatter to the deck and the rest of her body drops with a dull thud. One of the hoses wiggles before a cardinal squeezes out of the end, feathers slicked and damp from its escapade inside of her stomach. It clicks its beak distastefully in the silence.

Then, it screams.

Cardinals begin to flock into the room from every direction; they fly at passengers, tearing out eyes with little beaks and claws, burrowing into stomachs like drills, squirming into mouths and bursting torsos. The Captain shields the heron, and the crew panic, diving for cover beneath the tables even as blood and innards splatter against the hardwood floor, fumbling for weapons with trembling hands.

With a sudden flash, all passengers will find themselves fully armed with their confiscated weaponry. How convenient! As the birds attack, they will find their plastic bag costumes tear and pull apart now, so they can rid themselves of the cumbersome things, if they so desire.

Let's murder some fluffy little birds, shall we?

[[ooc: This post is for horror shenanigans! Get your angst on right in here. Feel free to have your character injured or even killed by the cardinals; characters killed will be revived a day later, as per usual. Also, your character can attempt to kill the cardinals but they'll find the little birds ridiculously hardy!

Weapons will still be nerfed, and all characters will remain human. Their weapons will size down or up to suit their form (Ironhide's canons will be smaller, for example) but will remain just as powerful.

Please note: ALL EXITS ARE LOCKED. Passengers cannot phase out / teleport / blast their way out.]]

Halloween party!

Every passenger will suddenly find themselves whisked to deck 20 for Redd's annual Halloween party (it's a day late, but shhh, he's been busy)!  It has been programmed to look like a cemetery, complete with stone gravestones and long, damp grass padded out with clumps of soft soil.  Ooooh, spooky!   The headstones read many names, none of which are recognizable.

Everyone will arrive wearing their very fashionable trash bag costumes (available in a choice of classic movie monsters; Frankenstein's monster, swamp creatures, Dracula, Wolfman, etcetera) and paper masks over their regular clothes.  While the paper masks can be removed to eat and drink, the costumes cannot be torn or pulled off.  Redd insists you have a good time, duckies. B|

To be fair though, the choice of food is ... pretty awful.  There's a long banquet table set up with paper tablecloths with badly printed pumpkins on them. The food selection is meager at best. Some cookies with black icing dribbled on them in a vague spider shape. Green and orange cupcakes that taste of nothing more than sugar. A heated service cart with warm food that looks like it was just wheeled in from the buffet.

Unfortunately, even the drink selection is pathetic. Passengers will find bottles of only cheap vodka and rum available, and at best, two or three non-alcoholic drinks to mix them with.

Characters who were around during the last Halloween party will find that the music playing is nearly the same exact playlist from before.

Now have fun!  If ... you can. :|

(( OOC: Oh crap sorry this is late x_X ))

~Pear Blossom Masquerade Finale~

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Though the night is still young and the wine is still sweet, at the stroke of midnight Redd rises from his seat and the woman rises with him. He has to adjust his mask, and as he shuffles forward to address the crowd he kicks several of the crystal wine glasses aside, uncaring if they break. The band stops playing, and the servants and crew withdraw to hear the great man’s momentous oration.

Redd throws his arm to the side, fingers grazing the face of a white-masked servant who doesn’t twitch, and when the Captain speaks it’s in a loud, booming voice that carries across the ballroom.

Passengers!" He sways, hand hovering in the air; the pause is long enough to be uncomfortable before he remembers his words and continues. "Oh yes. It pains me to say, but I need to get away from all of you now. You’re too...loud. Your thoughts and sweaty little palms are fairly itching and there’s just too many olives in my ears if you know what I mean. Hrrrrmph.

“Right--it seems there are some clever ducklings amongst us tonight! Curiosity notwithstanding, you deserve a reward. Or one of you does, perhaps maybe. I’ll sleep on it, but not for too long; I’ve got this facial in the morning, and I’ve always said that the best way to start off the morning is with a firm yard arm."

Redd gestures to the crew who, armed with baskets, fan out to collect masks from passengers who have yet to be identified. Each wields a large marker, and on the inside of the mask they write owner’s name in handwriting that runs the gamut from starkly elegant (Stewardess) to a jagged scrawl (Kage). Once the colored masks are collected they return to the gazebo as Redd continues his speech.

"To the rest of you: merriment is all well and good, but… well, there is no but. I’m talking to you in the red dress. Or perhaps you, the chicken suit. BEHAVE YOURSELVES, CHILDREN. And enjoy what the good Captain gives to you!"

At the final word he lifts a hand into the air and the white masks of both passengers snap away from faces, up from tables, chairs, wherever they happen to me, and fly into the air to burst into brilliant brilliant showers of fire and light. The pear blossoms, not about to be outdone, begin to spit sparks before they turn skyward and follow suit. For a moment the night sky trembles with the force of thunderous explosions and the night is aglow. The fireworks color the faces of the passengers, the pristine white of the decorations and the masks of the crew.

Once the last blossom has satisfied itself the flowers turn back down and the doors open.

Those who are not as distracted by the fireworks will notice that Redd's guest, who has finally removed her mask, is none other than Mother herself. She inclines her head briefly to the passengers at large. There's something to her expression that hints at a promise of something, but Mother does not speak or deign explain her presence for the sake of anyone's curiosity. Redd and his lovely guest will leave first, flanked by the crew, and it isn't until Redd and the elegant woman disappear from sight that the crew will then allow passengers to leave.

The decorations will remain through the night and into the next three days; passengers are free to enjoy the beauty of the trees and the lounge until they disappear on noon of the thirty-first.

~Pear Blossom Masquerade~

A small white card embossed in silver lettering appears on the communicators of all passengers.

At the behest of your glorious captain
The singular and most highly regarded James Wolfgang Redd
You are cordially invited to attend His Pear Blossom Masquerade!

Donning your finest clothes and best mask
You are to arrive at deck one no later than the stroke of eight
He who loses himself will find great fortune in his stead
Keep your secret well, and enjoy this night!

At precisely eight o'clock, the entrances to deck one open to reveal the upper deck, somehow far larger than usual, and in a vision of white. The doors part to reveal two lines of servants in full face masks. The anonymous servants on the left silently offer up trays of crystal glasses filled with Captain Redd's pear wine. The servants of the right offer the captain's special blossom shaped cookies.

Beyond the servants, passengers may step out into the main space of the masquerade itself. Around the edge of the entire deck, pear trees in full, fragrant bloom rise up from the floor itself. They seem to have grown up from the pale wood of the deck, and each flower on every branch glows from its center. As passengers continue forward, they'll find a large grouping of tables to either side. Crystal glasses and plates, and silver settings lay on tables covered in white cloth and the tables sit surrounded by white wooden chairs. At the center of each table sits a vase with a blossoming branch of pear blossoms.

Past the tables to the left, a long buffet table bears a sumptuous feast of the most delicious foods, drinks, and desserts. To the right, a small sitting area has been provided with plush, comfortable chairs, loveseats, and chaise lounges.

At the center of everything, a wide space remains clear for dancing. The floor, matching the color theme of the evening, remains clear but for the small stand in the corner where musicians, masked like the wandering servants, sit and play.

Their small raised platform is nothing to the columns that lead to the large ornate gazebo in the opposite corner. Inside, Captain Redd sits opposite a masked woman, wearing a white top and colorful mask. They are waited upon and kept uninterrupted by members of the crew. Inquisitive passengers will find themselves gently but firmly blocked, then turned away by whomever stands at the entrance.

This doesn't mean that Redd plans to stay apart from the passengers the entire evening, however. Upon everyone's arrival, the Captain steps out onto the dance floor with his mystery date on his arm. He is wearing the traditional clothing of the saami people.

Redd steps away from the elegant woman to address the passengers. His eyes scan those gathered on deck one before speaking aloud.

"Passengers, passengers. What an august title that must be, for are we all not passengers on my boat? Ol’ Reddy has heard RUMBLINGS with his keen ears, rumblings that this journey is taking too long—but what does that mean? The distances some of you have travelled in this journey cannot be counted in terms of mere days or kilometres. If you want kilometres, any barren wasteland will give you that, and if you want days go and stare at the sun. Days and kilometres are a lousy metric, and I assure you we only deal in the finest, most esteemed piles of steaming shit on this boat.

"Where was I.

"Oh, yes. The journey.

"You are all the same in appearance as when I first brought you on board for the trek to the Golden Shore, but some of you have gone very far indeed and some of you have stayed exactly where you were. So to those who recognize how far they’ve come—drink up! This is a rest stop. And for those of you lollygaggers who are where you weren’t, this is your chance to catch up! Now, drink, eat, dance, be merry, for tomorrow we die a thousand deaths as we do each and every morning!"

With his speech finished, Redd gives a brisk nod to the crowds, turns and offers his arm to the woman at his side once more, and leads her back into the gazebo. The band starts to play, and the masquerade begins.

Ghadd Festival

Just as promised, deck seventeen has been outfitted for a party. The lights have been dimmed and incense has been lit. A full bar has been set up at each end and center of the deck. Hookahs sit in the middle of clusters of cushions and pillows.

What might interest some is the wide array of food arranged throughout the room. There are several candies and cakes, sandwiches, and all manner of buffet food available. There is even a chocolate fountain surrounded by fruit slices and marshmallows at the center of the room.

Two desserts in particular have rather interesting effects when eaten:

1. Sugar cookies with green frosting will make the eater start hallucinating strangely colored circus animals for half an hour.

2. The most innocuous looking dessert there, and perhaps the most important, is the brownies. Non-human characters will be humanized upon eating them. This condition will last until noon on Monday.

The party itself will continue until daybreak on Sunday morning, or until everything at the party that can be eaten, drunk, and smoked is gone, whichever happens first.

Lobster Party!

Every passenger on the island will find themselves whisked away to Big Lou's Lollapalooza, seated comfortably around the stage area, which has been removed to make way for a large dirt ring.

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After that exciting display of the finest lobster riders on the island, the passengers will find themselves transported yet again, to Fa Wang's Lobster Ranch! A large area has been cleared, and tables covered with finger food, candy, punch, and all number of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages have been lined up neatly. Beside the tables is a robust grill and all manner of meat, seafood and vegetables ready to be grilled. Barrels of hay are scattered around the edges of the fenced area for people to use as seating. Fa Wang himself is offering lobster rides and petting, and is also DJing the music! What a multitasker.

Once they are whisked to the party, passengers may come and go as they please.

(( OOC: SORRY SORRY SORRY I got home late just pretend this was posted an hour and a half ago ;A;))