( open ) our ag wing's back and you're gonna be in trouble (hey now! hey now! our ag wing's back)

[initiates]

Date & Time: October 31st, 3313, 11:59PM - November 3rd, 3313, ????
Location: Agriculture Wing, Moon Base to start. Cafeteria, warehouse, docking bay, VR rooms, Transport Pad, or Observatory later on.
Characters: Any & all!
Summary: Space Zombies are allowed out of the Agriculture Wing, slowly revving up their systems to try and infect and absorb as many of the Transports (or 12 Initiative Members) as possible.
Warnings: Log will be locked for potentially graphic violence. Please warn in threads should the violence or gore become graphic.
Notes: Specify a date and location in your top comment. You may specify multiple dates/locations. Specify a time if you wish as well.

Everything is a success at first, from the cool rush of air out of the Agriculture Wing once the doors are fully unlocked, to the heady sense of accomplishment for finally moving forward on something good for the long-term usability of the Moon Base. It's intended to remain a resource, after all, but not be a permanent home. Fraying tempers and the sense of cabin fever descending on Transports continues to showcase how important it is to get back down on Earth to regain some breathing room.

There's little enough dust between all the unmoving, unlit structures, many even supporting the barest dried husks of what once grew there. Upon the lightest touch, they disintegrate, turning into a dust that falls to the ground. The silent rows will be reclaimed and turned into functioning units, based on Transport efforts, and Transport time invested in the project.

There's just one problem. Something stirs in the reclaimed wing, among tangles of hosing and wiring. Skitterings and movements that make no sense for a long abandoned Moon Base. The further in Transports go, relying on magic or technology to generate light past the bare minimum maintained by the base, the more disturbing sights they may run into.

Of course, the most disturbing of all might be lying just around the far corner -- but don't worry, it's only a flesh wound. Try not to get surprised in the machinery, caught suffering from not looking up or caught making out with anything unsavory this holiday season, Transports. We need all of you to stay alive!

We can't bring you back right now!

Comments

WHOOOOO'S UP FOR A HIDEOUSLY LATE BACKTAG A

[showmeyourwreath]

[Flora's flying through the halls looking like this, when she comes upon an interesting tableau.

Well, then.

There's a moment of surprise as she takes it in, but no longer than that, and, she's hovering in front of him. He's scared out of his mind, she can tell, which is why she wastes no time. She raises a glowing blue-green hand.]

I have this, Saul, don't worry. Mind your feet, though, you won't be in the way. Untameable Nature!

[Crystalline vines encased in ice grow from the floor, though they do not break or disrupt it in any way. They move much more languidly than their incredibly solid nature might suggest to wrap all around the zombie before pulling it away from him, but they don't stop there; there are small crackling noises as they continue to constrict around it, and it's very apparent from the frost that spreads along its surface, as well as its bluish pallor, that it's being frozen solid.

She tosses a bluish white ball of energy at the zombie, and almost immediately, it becomes a transparent icicle. The vines then literally crush it into dust.

Shimmering dust, but let's not be picky.

She turns to Saul, all compassion and concern.]

Are you alright, Saul?

[5055034455]

[Yo, what the fuck?

What the fuck.

What.




The fuck.

Just give him a second. Or ten. That's all he'll need to stop staring.]

[showmeyourwreath]

[She gives him those few seconds while keeping her ears peeled for any other enemies. They seem to be in the clear.

For now.]

Hey, are you with me?

[5055034455]

[The sound of her voice snaps him out of it, but just barely.]

Yes. Yeah. Hi. That's — thanks. For that.

[Pause.]

What you just did, I mean.

[showmeyourwreath]

[She smiles.]

You're very welcome, it was my pleasure. Also, here. [She snaps her fingers and a bucket of hot and scented (something like lemons and mint) water appears hovering before him.]

You might want to give your hands a dip.

[She could fade the gore away easily, but sometimes you just want the sensation of working to feel clean.

Whether it would work or not, well, she couldn't be certain. But she'd try.]

[5055034455]

[Okay but magic, though. Saul eyes the bucket warily before his expression seems to betray his inner monologue of ah, fuck it, and he sticks his hands in.]

What, uh —

[He takes his hands out, looks them over, picks at a fingernail, then places them in again.]

What other tricks have you got up those sleeves, huh?

[showmeyourwreath]

[Magic indeed!]

Oh, you know, something like this.

[She snaps her fingers, and a few things happen: the bucket disappears, his hands are both suddenly dry and clad in what looks like leather gloves, with metal studs on the knuckles.]

I figure those will help keep you feeling a bit more...hygienic.