The pathways of the dungeon had changed overnight. Anyone who had stayed in a room beyond their welcome had found themselves booted out back onto the hallways that belonged to their camp. Those doors had closed. Other doors had now opened.
As had
other routes.
[
pathways |
weapons locker |
zombies |
emotional baggage |
weeping angels |
ooc NOTE:
(
Read more... )
The area inside might be mistaken for a foggy London street at first glance. But then it becomes obvious it has a ceiling, not a sky - and from that ceiling hang weapons bound with thick thread, just within reach for anyone daring to climb up onto a rooftop. Upon further inspection, the weapons might seem familiar: in fact, they might look exactly like items left behind in the weapons locker at school...
Of course, if you take one step too many, one of those tick-tacking men might overhear... and attempt to pull you from the rooftops and smother you before you can reach anything.
[ as always, let us know if you want an NPC. be careful, because those clockwork men are lethal, and come equipped with electric shocks. ]
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She'd come out of this with a shiny sword for her trouble, but also some scorch marks and a long gash across her forehead. Oh, and a new found fear of people dressed like Louis XIV.
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He even managed one better than that: in addition to his bow and quiver (with an inconveniently small amount of arrows, but he'd manage), he found a knife for Sparkle. Score.
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"Hey," he called towards the approaching army. "I guess none of you know the way to the nearest cantina, right?"
[[ open to Camp 1/2! ]]
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Seriously, robots.
But, at least he got a machete out if the deal. Since the guns he'd grabbed had been used to not end up dead.
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Except for the part when the clockwork men tried to stop her.
"And hello, steampunk evil-- gah!"
Sigh, these pajamas were never going to be useful again. But hey, at least she had a crossbow and some throwing knives now.
She knew there was a reason she'd always hated French history in school.
[[camp 1/2 people totally welcome.]]
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"Well that was interesting."
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She shook out her left arm, which was still a bit numb from an electrical shock, and grinned. "But kind of fun, huh?"
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"I'm Allison. My friends call me Allie."
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Also, given that she was currently fighting with her girlfriend, therapeutic.
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Sorry, Allie. It wasn't like she was used to thinking about having to pay for things.
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"Ugh, zombies. Those are gross," Kennedy agreed. "Not so much with the acidic, though, at least."
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She eyed the knives and wished she'd thought to grab some kind of belt, because no way was she hiding these things in her pajamas; they'd just have to go in the crossbow bolt quiver for now.
"It's kind of a lot like Fandom, actually? Only with way less of a sense of humor. Regularly-scheduled apocalypses, though."
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