May the odds be ever in your favor

[applesaucemod]

In the dream there is a jungle. In the jungle, there is an impossible inland sea, briny like the ocean but surrounded by land on all sides. Around the sea there is a beach, and in the sea there is an island. On the island, there is a a cornucopia, a great curled golden horn with an opening that yawns twenty feet high. Around the cornucopia, land bridges stretch like spokes of a wheel from the island to the beach.

Inside the cornucopia, there are weapons. Everywhere, hidden well enough to escape the attention of all but the most carefully observant, there are cameras. Above is a false sky, an electric dome that stretches over the round expanse of jungle and disguises itself as the illusion of more jungle where it touches the ground. To touch it is to be electrocuted.

Those who hike off into the jungle may not ever reach the edge of the dome and learn how thoroughly they are trapped. An invisible, almost always intangible line extends from each of the island's spokes to the edge of the dome, a barrier between dangers for which there is no warning. Viewed from above, this round jungle begins to resemble a clock with its face divided into twelve wedges that all converge on the cornucopia. Unfortunately for the dreamers, this clock keeps time.

At the stroke of twelve, lightning strikes in the segment toward which the tail of the cornucopia points. At the strike of one, catastrophe moves clockwise and the next segment rains blood. Disaster strikes at the beginning of each hour, moving slowly but inexorably all the way around the jungle until it comes back to the beginning and starts again. Some segments represent near-inevitable death for anyone caught in them at the wrong moment, while others simply torture their captives or twist their perceptions. The beach and the island might seem to represent safety and reprieve, but some threats, like the wall of saltwater that comes crashing through the jungle at ten o'clock, reach even that haven. And though the world outside the jungle may be watching, that world is beyond the dreamers' reach. No one may pass beyond the dome except by awakening from the dream and leaving this place entirely in favor of the waking world.

Welcome to the Quarter Quell.


[Mod note: Same drill as always. All players and characters are welcome, current members or no. Characters will remember or forget any and all dream events at players' discretion. Death in the dream does not result in real death. Post your tags under the header for the section of the clock in which your thread takes place (if the thread takes place in multiple sections, put it under the header for the section in which it begins). Threads can take place at any time; note what time your thread begins when starting a new one so other players know whether the section will be active. Multiple threads per header are allowed. Dream time passes more quickly than real time (and is kind of timey wimey anyway), so feel free to subject your characters to as many or few hours as you wish.]

Comments

TWELVE

[applesaucemod]

Storm clouds blossom out of a clear blue sky and swirl above an exceptionally tall tree. The clouds thicken and darken, and the air - already hot and humid - begins to feel heavier, more oppressive. Lightning strikes the tree with a bright flash and a deafening crack - and then is strikes again, and again, twelve times in total. Any living creature near the tree succumbs to the shock. To everyone else in the arena, it is a clear signal: the games have begun.

ONE

[applesaucemod]

There is no rumble of thunder to herald the coming downpour, only the light patter of raindrops on the thick foliage overhead. But anyone in this section of the jungle will soon realize that it's not water falling from the sky. It's blood, hot and fresh and thick. The downpour intensifies until it's bucketing down in a choking, crimson monsoon that only abates at the line where the jungle meets the beach.

One o'clock

[rae_of_sun]

Okay, so she's in a jungle for some reason. Stranger things have happened. It's actually kind of pleasant; she's always been good at handling the heat, so even horribly humid is better than cold.

The advent of rain is a bit less easy to take in stride. She doesn't have an umbrella or anything. Humid and wet is slightly better than cold and wet, so at least she has that going for her…

… and then a hot droplet strikes her arm, and she stares down at it in dawning horror. Oh, no. Oh, gods. She's had this nightmare before - or ones like it - and she knows what's coming. More heavy drops join the first, falling faster, now, and it's not water, it was never water, it's a goddamn kali rain of blood. She lets out a wordless cry of mingled horror and protest and stumbles over to the ostensible cover of a tree, but it's only a temporary refuge. Soon, the blood is falling in such a torrent that there's no shelter to be had. Sunshine bolts, no direction or destination in mind, as the deluge soaks into her clothing and hair and covers her skin in a sticky, crimson sheen, choking her, blinding her. Her foot snags on a raised root, and she lands in a lukewarm puddle of bloody mud. Clawing for purchase, she manages to get to her feet once more and continue stumbling, heading downhill because that's the only direction she can even discern, anymore, with her eyes all but glued shut.

She's never had a nightmare like this. It's never been this terrible, this heavy, this inescapable. Why hasn't she woken up yet? She can barely breathe, she's so covered in blood that any attempts to wipe off her face only make things worse, and when she opens her mouth to gasp for air, the coppery taste of it makes her gag.

She doesn't see the beach. She's only vaguely aware that the ground feels different beneath her feet, and then a moment later she's falling into the water. She accidentally inhales some, chokes, gags again, and then registers that this is salt water, not blood, and that the downpour has stopped. Shivering violently, she heaves herself into a sitting position in the shallow sea and gasps for air.

Re: ONE

[vlad_dracul]

Dracula stands in the rain. It's very hard to not growl. On the one hand, the blood is rich and sweet, satisfying his appetite. On the other, he is no mindless beast and he knows this is wrong, very, very wrong. Every so often, he opens his mouth and drinks. He must be careful to not take too much or he will grow younger in appearance and that would be, well, inconvenient. Oh, but the blood is hot and rich!

Raising his arms, Dracula shouts out a command in some ancient language, but his powers fail. This unnatural rain does not respond, as ordinary rain would, to his magic. Well, then. Thirst abated, Dracula seeks shelter. He's had enough.

TWO

[applesaucemod]

The ambient buzz of insects falls conspicuously silent, and fog begins to roll through the trees. Touch it, and you'll find yourself erupting in painful blisters. A little saltwater bath will clear them right up, but you'll have to make it to the lagoon, first - and prolonged exposure to the fog will ensure that you don't make it anywhere, ever again. You'll just have to outrun it, if you can.

Ten 'til two o'clock

[bluesuit_handy]

Somewhere off to his right, Andrew hears the soft patter of what sounds like rain. Where he is, though, the sky is clear -- what he can see of it, at any rate. The foliage is so thick it blocks out much of the light, leaving him with nothing to see but an expanse of jungle in every direction and no inkling that there's anything else to see.

He makes a face and flaps a hand at an overlarge insect flying by. Alright, jungle. He's been in jungles before. Deciding he'd like to see if anyone else is in this jungle, he cups his hands round his mouth and calls out a "Halloo!"

THREE

[applesaucemod]

That's funny. Those monkeys you've been seeing in the trees didn't seem aggressive before. But they aren't your average monkey; they're muttations, and they're sure aggressive, now. Dozens of them are coming out of the proverbial woodwork, and their teeth are awfully sharp. Once again, the beach is a refuge - they won't pursue you onto the sand or into the water. Anyone in the jungle, though, is fair game.

A quarter to three o'clock

[wildmage_daine]

Daine finds herself standing on a beach and staring at a thick, dark jungle. A thoughtful frown tugs at the corners of her mouth, and there's a faint line between her eyebrows. Something's off. Hands akimbo, she glares at the jungle for a few moments as if she expects it to account for itself. Then she turns to look behind her, and she sees the shallow lagoon and the central island. Her stomach drops. This is familiar. It shouldn't be, but it is, and the sense of wrongness intensifies.

She strides down the beach and into the water, letting it wash around her ankles. Cold saltwater would be best, but warmer saltwater does the trick as well; it's enough of a magical boost for her to feel all the People in the surrounding jungle. And that's what's wrong. Some of the minds feel normal, healthy, but some are… it's like they're sick, or something. Her frown deepens. What's wrong with them?

FOUR

[applesaucemod]

Get caught in this portion of the jungle when the clock strikes four, and you'll find yourself trapped within this section by an invisible barrier until five. The air will fill with a great flock of birds called Jabberjays. Their calls are not those of a typical jay. Rather, they can precisely mimic the voices of those you love, screaming in agony and pleading for your help. You can cover your ears to try and block out the sound, but you probably won't have much success.

4:02 [TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE]

[johnny_truant]

No one ever screams for Johnny's help. Johnny can't help anyone.

What he hears, first, before he has time to register where he is -- ordinarily he's become quite sensitive to the Dreaming, but not so tonight -- is pity and loathing. The birds flit around him wildly, too, too close to him, such that he's paralyzed even without the barrier. He ducks down, covering his head as the voices tell him he's worthless, a worthless little shit, no one could ever love him, not even these birds can find a single person. Raymond tells him what a waste of air he is, what trash, boy, I'm gonna kill you this time, I swear to god.

Then his mother cuts through.

"Johnny dear," she cries, that voice that's so old and so grounded in his heart. "Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny-"

Not really a cry for help, so much as a bombardment. Johnny covers his ears and screams to drown her out. It doesn't work.

"Pathetic little creature," sneers Zagreus. "You should have stayed with me. I'm going to take you apart and you'll be better for it."

Johnny scrambles through the jungle, desperate to escape the noise, and hits his head sharply on the barrier. He presses his hands against it, helpless, beating on it uselessly. He tries to dig his fingers into it, to shift it, but his power is useless here.

"Johnny!" screams a new voice. A young woman. Charley? "Johnny, help me!"

"Make it stop!" screams another woman, or is it a girl? It's Jodie, somewhere between the Jodie he knows and the Jodie he met in her nightmare. "They're hurting me!"

"Where are you?!" Johnny turns around, convinced he'll see her behind him. He screams into the distance: "Jodie!"

He can't help her. He can never help her. Zagreus laughs at him, and Gdansk Man asks him if he's got a death wish.

There's something else he hasn't heard before, not in his dreams, not anywhere. Someone screaming, tortured, agony on a scale he hasn't ever known. It chills him down to his blood and bones.

"Gabriel!" Johnny struggles through the whirlwind of birds, trying to find the source of the cries. Images flash nonsensically through his head, Gabriel with wings, curled over, anguished and afraid. They're hurting him. They're hurting him and there's nothing, fucking nothing, he can do.

"Stop it!" he screams, his voice breaking. "Stop it, stop!" He sinks down to the earth, curling up, holding his head tightly, wishing he could crush himself, wishing he could disappear.

4:50

[has_a_horn]

Gabriel arrives amidst a storm of feathers and pained cries. As an angel, he is used to hearing the voices of those in pain searching out his help, but this is somehow different. The sound pierces him, and he can't ignore a single voice. Immediately, he tries to extend his influence into the dream, but the rift isn't cooperating tonight. When he tries to wake, he can't.

Feathers brush against his face and hands and he flinches back from them. He hears angels. They're screaming in every language he knows, but in Enochian most of all, pleading with him to come back, to save them. He twists around and pushes through the flock, but there's no point to it. They're everywhere. Some voices he can pick out above the others. Lucifer and Michael don't plead with him. They only scream in pain.

He knows this isn't real, this isn't really them, but he can feel himself starting to panic. Is this the rift taking revenge on him for helping the TARDIS escape it?

Beyond the cacophony of angel voices and the rushing of wings, the TARDIS' voice calls out his name. Like the others, she sounds like she's in pain, needing him. He doesn't feel her here, but he pursues the voice anyway. He knows the angels can't really be calling for him, but she could be.

"TARDIS!" He shouts, the sound muffled by the flapping of wings. "TARDIS, are you here!"

FIVE

[applesaucemod]

The trees are bit more open here, which seems like a welcome relief from the otherwise thick jungle. There are stretches of bare earth that are reassuringly solid most of the time. Between five and six, that solidity is replaced by liquid suction. Quicksand. Try not to struggle; you'll only sink faster.

SIX

[applesaucemod]

Something stalks this section of jungle between the hours of six and seven. Its paws are velvet soft but heavily clawed, and it is so, so hungry. It would love nothing more than to snack on some delicious dreamers, so stay sharp. Even if you manage to kill it, don't let your guard down. It probably has a mate.

Re: SIX

[beastisbeauty]

Hulk can feel something about him. There is danger here. Well, there is danger everywhere. He's learned that, time and again. Still. Hulk doesn't ask how he got into a jungle. He's used to waking up in odd places. Strange though. Banner doesn't seem to be sleeping. Hulk can feel the other's presence, alert, but distracted, in the back of his own mind. Hulk roars, letting anything nearby know that he is here and he is not afraid!

SEVEN

[applesaucemod]

This section of jungle is home to some beautiful climbing plants with large, vividly colored blossoms. Most of the time, the petals are tightly closed, but for the first fifteen minutes after seven o'clock, they curl open and produce an enticing scent. Inhale the flowers' perfume, and you'll suddenly find yourself compelled to do odd things - things that wouldn't be advisable during a fight to the death. Perhaps you want to drop everything else to stack that pile of rocks, or belt out some show tunes at the top of your voice. Fortunately for the dreamers, anyone who stumbles into that section of jungle after 7:15 will probably just be confused by such inexplicable behavior and not inclined to turn it to their advantage by, y'know, murdering the flower-addled unfortunates. And by the time eight rolls around, the effects will have worn off.

7:10 to 8:00

[fucking_ebay]

When Peter arrived in the jungle he'd immediately felt wary. The hairs on the back of his neck had gone right up, and he'd been completely unable to shake the feeling that something was following him. Unknowingly he'd arrived in the section of the Beast just before the end of its hour. Had he been there a few minutes earlier, that feeling of being stalked would have ended in a feeling of being pounced upon and shredded.

But it didn't. The feeling of immediate danger has ebbed, but he's not exactly done feeling uneasy. He's in a fucking jungle, for one thing, which is about as far as you can get from the Vegas strip (or Manhattan, for that matter). What can he do about it, though, but keep moving? He trudges along through the undergrowth, swearing under his breath and slapping at flies. He doesn't even realize he's moved into a new area, just that after a few minutes he finds himself among flowers.

Bright...pretty flowers. Peter slows and stops, blinking languidly around at the plants surrounding him. Lovely scents waft through the air, and he finds himself drawn to a big, purple bloom. It smells even better than it looks, and he stands there taking deep whiffs off it for a solid minute. When he's done he looks around, a troubled expression on his face, and he frowns as his gaze lights on a small rock at his feet. That's not right. It shouldn't be like that. Stooping, he plucks it out of the earth, turns it over, and deftly puts it back where he found it. There. Much better. Another stone catches his eye a few feet away, and he takes a few steps to do the same to that one as well.

And then another.

And another.

Until 8:00, Peter can be found studiously seeking out every stone on the jungle floor, pulling them up out of the dirt, turning them over, and putting them back. A lot are small and take only a moment, but at some points he'll spend several minutes scooping dirt out from around large rocks with his bare hands in order to turn those over as well.

EIGHT

[applesaucemod]

Hey, speaking of plants. You'll find no beautiful flowers here. In fact, the only initial indication that this stretch of jungle is anything special are the odd spikes that protrude from some of the vines, long and thin and needle sharp. They're so large, they aren't readily distinguishable as what they are: trigger hairs. Should you brush against them between eight and nine, the vines will respond by wrapping themselves around you and secreting a burning cocktail of digestive enzymes. The jungle is hungry, and dreamers are on the menu.

NINE

[applesaucemod]

Snakes. Snakes everywhere. Just. Everywhere. Snakes. Enjoy.

TEN

[applesaucemod]

At ten o'clock, the edge of the arena in this section unleashes an improbable wave of salt water, a focused tsunami that seems to come from nowhere. It rushes down to the beach, sweeping up anyone in its path and rolling across the inland sea to wash against the cornucopia.

8:45 (option to wander into Nine, stay here long enough to drown, or other)

[stronglikebear]

Yep, dream. Yuri's still not sure if it's a good one or a bad one -- or if he's sharing it with anyone -- but nothing much seems to be happening in this part of the jungle. He's already stripped off his shirt to cope with the heat, though the bugs are making him question that decision. Meandering uphill in the hopes that he'll find a vantage point and get a better idea of where he is, he doesn't see the invisible barrier (which is kind of not his fault and kind of really not fair) until he literally walks right into it.

He's luckier than he might have been; there's no metal on him and he doesn't exactly hit it hard. There is, however, a massive jolt to his system as he bangs into it and as the camouflaged barrier ripples for twenty or thirty feet around the impact. Yuri is knocked backwards to land on his back, banging his head and knocking the wind out of him. For a few moments he just lays there and chokes for air until his lungs refill in a sudden gasp and he lets out an "Aa-aa-ah," of pained surprise.

ELEVEN

[applesaucemod]

Is the jungle getting louder?  The ambient sound of insects rises to drown out all other noises with a cacophony of buzzing and clicking as bugs of all kinds from the size of a pinhead to that of an outspread human hand crawl from their hiding places and descend from above.  Their bites aren't poisonous, but they don't need to be.  Stand still for a moment and the swarm will cover you.  How long do you suppose it will take for them to strip the flesh from your bones?

Re: ELEVEN

[missrosetyler]

As Rose continues to explore the jungle with its various noises, she thinks that her mind is really working over time on this. Her arms are crossed as her eyes look around. That buzzing sound from before gets louder and louder and she's not sure exactly where it is coming from as the other jungle noises from before die out.

Then she sees it, a swam in the shape of something up ahead and heading her way. Dream or not instinct takes over and the blonde attempts to run in the opposite direction.

THE INLAND SEA

[applesaucemod]

From the island or the beach one can barely see into the dense jungle, though some of the man-made disasters that cycle around the clock would be impossible to miss from any point on the map. Some of them, too, reach as far in as the cornucopia, though muttations are unlikely to venture beyond the cover of the trees. Here those dreamers smart enough to get out of the jungle can rest...at least until the ten o'clock wave wipes out anyone sheltering in the cornucopia.

tbd

[watchesthebeans]

This has happened enough times now for Aglet to catch on that this is a dream. He doesn't go outside of his own volition, and while it's possible he could maybe drop through the rift again into a different place, every time he finds himself mysteriously in the terrible outdoors it turns out to be a dream (though that dream with the dragon and the ponies was really long).

There are an awful lot of knives here. Aglet gingerly picks his way through the collection of weaponry, not especially thrilled that his options for cover mostly involve giant blades. He presses himself against the inside of the cornucopia's mouth and peers out, wondering if pinching himself would really work.

TWELVE

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta finds himself in the mouth of the Cornucopia and slips back into the Games mindset as if he never left.

There is no one in sight, but he knows better than to call out. For Katniss. A quick, frantic glance around reaffirms that there is no one else to be seen, so Peeta grabs a machete and a smaller knife from the piles of weaponry around him. There's a small bag just inside the lip of the Cornucopia that, on inspection, holds some essentials, so he straps that across his back as well, the memory of thirst pounding in the back of his mind.

With one eye on the water, he picks the land bridge that begins at the mouth of the Cornucopia and sprints along it toward the beach. He gives the edge of the jungle a cursory glance as he spins in place on the sand, taking in the arena as a whole. What time is it?

Even as he thinks it, the first bolt of lightning strikes the tree at the top of the jungle directly across the water from him. Shaking away memories of explosions and the gentle sensation that something is wrong, Peeta focuses on the here and now. If he's across from the lightning tree, that puts him at six o'clock. Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulls up the memory of a map drawn in the sand before crouching and replicating it.

Six is the beasts. He gives the jungle at his back a dark look. He doesn't know what is on either side of him, but he decides to walk along the beach, heading toward the lightning tree. That might allow him to avoid the traps in each slice of jungle, and maybe he'll come across some sign of others. Of Katniss.

Checking that bag and knife are secure, Peeta tightens his grip on the machete and sets off along the sand.




[OOC: Since this dreamland is from Peeta's world, I thought I'd add this here. Peeta will mostly keep to the beach in this thread, but he may pop into the other jungle segments (such as for water), and certainly could be drawn into a specific area under the right circumstances. If you specifically want him to come into the segment your character is in (i.e. your thread), contact me. :D]