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Dungeon Keeper
The Tapestry had spoken. Not in words, but in ideas and images, ciphers and cryptic nonsense that had been laboriously deciphered, interrogated with spells and technology, pieced together from scrap. They had led here.
Planet Designation: AST994-III
Status: Terrestrial, K-class.
Non-sentient life: None.
Semi-Sentient Life: None.
Sentient Life: None.
Water: None.
Climate: Desert/barren.
Landscape: Rocky crags.
Air: Normoxic concentration: 29% oxygen, 60% nitrogen, 3% xenon, 6% trace gases, such as hydrogen, krypton, and argon.
Air Pressure: 14.352 pounds per square inch.
Sky: Red. Cloudless.
Sun: Class A star.
Warnings: Information from Tapestry indicates significant underground population. Subsurface information not available. Use caution.
Mission: ?
Somewhere down there, an object valuable and vital to the mission lay in wait, something so important that its existence was encoded into the Tapestry itself. Whatever it was, they needed to get it.
The only problem was, how to get in? The subterranean world had no access to the surface, and to physically breach it would not only be prohibitive, but catastrophic to the point of apocalypse to that underground world. Science could not solve this problem; thus, the crew turned to magic. The Tapestry had provided what were, after some analysis, unquestionably teleport coordinates. Five of them, for three people each.
To ensure the crew members were not lost, nor left behind without help, contingent spells were laid upon them, to return them to safety and help should they become injured, or should they find the item.
Without further ado -- with no natives to meet and negotiate with, no further preliminaries to make or plans to be made -- each of the five groups, with their supplies and equipment, were taken to the start.
[OOC: Don't worry too much about posting order. I will jump in where a response from the mysterious sky narrator is needed! Going with this, if you feel you're getting lost or outraced in posting, let me or the group know and we'll slow it down. The explicit purpose of this plot is for everyone to have fun, so please speak up if there's anything anyone can do to make that happen better!]
Planet Designation: AST994-III
Status: Terrestrial, K-class.
Non-sentient life: None.
Semi-Sentient Life: None.
Sentient Life: None.
Water: None.
Climate: Desert/barren.
Landscape: Rocky crags.
Air: Normoxic concentration: 29% oxygen, 60% nitrogen, 3% xenon, 6% trace gases, such as hydrogen, krypton, and argon.
Air Pressure: 14.352 pounds per square inch.
Sky: Red. Cloudless.
Sun: Class A star.
Warnings: Information from Tapestry indicates significant underground population. Subsurface information not available. Use caution.
Mission: ?
Somewhere down there, an object valuable and vital to the mission lay in wait, something so important that its existence was encoded into the Tapestry itself. Whatever it was, they needed to get it.
The only problem was, how to get in? The subterranean world had no access to the surface, and to physically breach it would not only be prohibitive, but catastrophic to the point of apocalypse to that underground world. Science could not solve this problem; thus, the crew turned to magic. The Tapestry had provided what were, after some analysis, unquestionably teleport coordinates. Five of them, for three people each.
To ensure the crew members were not lost, nor left behind without help, contingent spells were laid upon them, to return them to safety and help should they become injured, or should they find the item.
Without further ado -- with no natives to meet and negotiate with, no further preliminaries to make or plans to be made -- each of the five groups, with their supplies and equipment, were taken to the start.
[OOC: Don't worry too much about posting order. I will jump in where a response from the mysterious sky narrator is needed! Going with this, if you feel you're getting lost or outraced in posting, let me or the group know and we'll slow it down. The explicit purpose of this plot is for everyone to have fun, so please speak up if there's anything anyone can do to make that happen better!]
Group 2: Ian, Grif, Veronica
All was not hopeless, though, for behind them, a narrow tunnel led away from the cavern. Perhaps their goal, or at least an answer, lay in that direction instead. Could they be so lucky?
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"Well, those are handy," she says, noting the luminescent jewels. "And from my experience, the way that's the most trouble is the one that leads to the good stuff." That said, she approaches where the drawbridge lands, to investigate if there's any way to get it down from here.
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That was really all Grif had to add for the first few minutes. He took a moment to peer over the edge of the cliff down into the apparent abyss, and squint across it at the bridge. It looked pretty hopeless. At least nobody had suggested throwing him at it in an effort to knock it down.
"The problem is that we don't know how much trouble the other way is going to be," he said. "I don't know about you guys, but I am getting some really bad vibes off this whole little glowy tunnel thing."
He took a few reluctant steps toward it, though. There was no other obvious way through.
"Which obviously means it's the way we're supposed to go." The resentment was nearly palpable.
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Veronica steps on up past Grif, and pulls on her displacer glove, flexing her hand a few times for a good fit before turning to the other armored fellow. "Aw, c'mon - you've got that nice tin can there to take a little punishment. And if we find trouble, well..." She mimes punching the glove into her other hand, but doesn't connect. "I'm real good at dishing trouble right back out."
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"I've been in places like this before." It did remind him of Skaro and Marinus, but there hadn't been anything too bad in those caves. They'd handled it anyway, so overall he was feeling optimistic.
"We won't know what's down there until we look." Ian set off down the passage, trying to be as quiet as possible.
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Creeping on down the hallway... the first thing they would notice is crude writing on the walls. Runes of some sort, carved with varying but generally lesser degrees of elegance and consideration, some of them written over each other, evidently showing years of some sort of history.
Not much farther on, the echoing sounds of curious noises met their ears. It sounded like a fusion of barking and hissing that had inherited neither sound's positive qualities, but it was patterned and purposed. Someone, or something, up ahead was talking. More than two, in fact, though how many more was unclear given the echoes.
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Still, he moved. This whole thing still didn't feel like a good idea, but the ship had stuck them down here and there was no going back. The carvings on the walls were odd and he took a moment to squint at them, but then froze stiff at the sound ahead. In the narrow space, it was possible someone might bump into him at the halt.
He eyed the other two. "Anyone know what that is?" he whispered.
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"Why don't I scout ahead?" he suggested. "They won't hear me coming." He hoped.
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"Guess you can bring up the rear, then," Veronica remarks at Grif - mostly teasing. As they move down the hall, she does peer a bit at the runes - can't read 'em, but she kinda wishes she could - or at least had time to do so.
The sound first makes her think of nightstalkers from home, but it sounded...oddly intelligent, rather than a bunch of the creatures barking and hissing over each other. "Seems a reasonable guess," she whispered to Ian, then nods. "Give a shout if things go south."
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A few twists and turns later, and Ian would find himself peering around a corner at a number of small, semi-reptilian, vaguely doglike animals on the near side of a reinforced wall across the tunnel, with a two-gated passage through said wall. The five creatures were clustered around a table, evidently playing some sort of game that involved both cards and dice, as well as a quantity of coins being used as bets. They had taken no notice of Ian as they gambled.
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He returned to the other two to tell them what he'd seen. "They're intelligent," he concluded, "but I can't tell whether they're friend or foe." They might well decide anyone alien was an enemy.
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He would hold out on that remote hope for as long as he could, because the other option coming to mind was that it was bats.
Grif was not sure what he would do if there were bats. It was best to just not think about it.
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"No way to get around them, I take it?"
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Times like this she was thankful for the helmet hiding the nervous grin on her face.
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