Twisting Paths of the Dungeon, Somewhere, Wednesday, Day One
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... )
As had other routes.
[ pathways | weapons locker | zombies | emotional baggage | weeping angels | ooc NOTE: ( Read more... )
Step into the room, and there are even more suitcases. And bags. Actually, the room looks like a well-stuffed storage compartment, with only a little wiggle room. Upon closer inspection, all the items here seem to come with labels. Familiar labels. Labels that might speak to you inside...
If you dare, you can try to open one of the bags. They might contain clothing or smaller items like matches and hairpins. Or they might move and slide off, landing on your head and putting you out of commission for good...
[ emotional baggage room! we're, uh. willing to NPC your emotional baggage if you really want us to. ]
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He was getting twitchy, too: blame the lack of deathsticks with him. He opened the first door he came across and stepped inside...only to fling himself flat on the floor as he barely escaped getting crushed by a giant metal suitcase labeled DADDY ISSUES.
"Real karking funny," he told the ceiling.
[OOC: For camps 1 or 2!]
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He hoped.
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Well, it seemed rude to look at his baggage for too long; it wasn't like Gert would want to invite him to check out that heavy trunk that just dropped beside her labeled "WEIGHT ISSUES." Charming.
Gert sat on it.
"Think there's any chance we'll be able to get back to the door with all this crap in the way?"
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On cue, Cade was beaned by a hatbox that read SKYWALKER.
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The gym bag that flopped near Gert's feet reminded her that she "CAN'T RUN (OR FIGHT)," which only pissed her off enough to turn to the ceiling and yell, "Would you knock it off?"
That was likely to be effective.
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A pair of his-and-hers TERRIFIED OF AUTHORITY FIGURES bags plopped to the ground on Gert's either side, one of them grazing her arm as she ducked out of the way of the other. "Ow," she grumbled, examining her bleeding arm. It wasn't that bad, but it hurt. "Ready to make a run for it?"
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"What about you?"
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Not the point, Cade.
"You weren't in my room, were you?"
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