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BARiTONES
[ Everything fades to black...and you awaken in a manor.
You're wearing bloodstained (but fancy!) versions of your uniforms, and a newspaper informs you that you are currently in %COUNTRYNAME% in the year %CONTEMPORARY%+1. The newspaper is otherwise actually fairly unhelpful, aside from something detailing the results of a recent attempt at revolt in a city in %COUNTRYNAME%: worker’s success at managing a nearby gold mine led to dreams of every man being a king - the revolutionaries may have been successful had it not been for a concurrent jailbreak and mass slaughter putting local authorities on alert, buying time for military intervention - the town was nearly leveled to the ground, with few survivors.
But you seem to remember - you survived, didn’t you? In fact, you were one of the rioters.
...Also, below the main headline about the failed revolution, there's something about Those Who Crave Hands? Huh.
Anyways, you've got marketing to do! ]
You're wearing bloodstained (but fancy!) versions of your uniforms, and a newspaper informs you that you are currently in %COUNTRYNAME% in the year %CONTEMPORARY%+1. The newspaper is otherwise actually fairly unhelpful, aside from something detailing the results of a recent attempt at revolt in a city in %COUNTRYNAME%: worker’s success at managing a nearby gold mine led to dreams of every man being a king - the revolutionaries may have been successful had it not been for a concurrent jailbreak and mass slaughter putting local authorities on alert, buying time for military intervention - the town was nearly leveled to the ground, with few survivors.
But you seem to remember - you survived, didn’t you? In fact, you were one of the rioters.
...Also, below the main headline about the failed revolution, there's something about Those Who Crave Hands? Huh.
Anyways, you've got marketing to do! ]
ADVERTISEMENT TURN-IN
EMET-SELCCHI
no subject
straight into the trash bin. You’re there for a moment, able to rest even if you have to wallow in your sadness, amongst all the other failures. It’s not too long, anyway, before the edges of the bin begin to calcify. One might wonder if this means petrification is to come, but as everything around you hardens with a pearl white shell, you quickly come to realize that you won’t get off so easy.
Slowly, slowly, the moment even a single inch of something else that’s fallen victim to this punishment touches you, the skin at the point of contact begins to harden. And that hardening spreads - so slowly and so painfully you begin to calcify, flesh turning to bone. Somehow none of your nerves seem to follow suit - trying to move parts that have hardened just causes them to crack and the crack feels exactly like breaking any other bone. Eventually, once you can no longer move any of your joints, the rate of the spread increases rapidly, and that’s it for you. The last thing you experience is your entire body cracking apart from the pressure of its own construction.
Well, until you’re back with the rest of your unit and you’re all sewn back together again - well, the cracks are still there. And parts of you are still bone - moving is hard, and it is painful. But this is nice, isn’t it? Another chance to be worth something! ]
CROWN ROYAL
no subject
straight into the trash bin.
And you can barely even settle in amongst the detritus before something else happens: writhing vines come crawling down the sides of the bin, entangling and wrapping everything within, including you. The squeezing is a bit painful, but surprisingly light - as far as punishments go, it’s pretty mild?
At least until thorns burst from the vines, piercing you all over your body. Not nearly enough to kill but still very painful and the moment it happens your blood begins to drip down to the bottom of the bin and you can feel something - crawling up your body, sucking up what blood it can, before delving straight into each of your wounds. They feel like threads - fibers which worm their way everywhere beneath your skin before hardening and thickening. There’s a flash of heat, and suddenly you feel like you’re bursting as vibrant red flowers rip their way out of your skin, protruding from each branch that now exists beneath your outermost layer.
Everything else in the bin seemingly sinks beneath your blood, dissolving into it. But that’s fine, isn’t it? That’s just the sort of thing you are. You kill everything around you.
At least once you’re back with the rest of your unit, you’re all sewn back together again - you’re still covered in flowers with rigid branches stuck painfully beneath your skin and the heat remains and you’re so so so hungry for -- blood? Flesh? Ah, anything, anything from any creature with blood…!
But that’s nice, isn’t it? Another chance to be worth something! ]
ABSINTHE
no subject
straight into the trash bin. And all is well, aside from being literally dumpstered. At least - all is well until a gust of wind blows through, rattling you and all of the trash you’re lying on top of. And then suddenly you find that you have a few small cuts on you - well, that’s not so bad, is it?
But another gust blows through, and you have a few more. Blood oozes slowly from them, but - well, you can probably staunch it, right? But then there’s another. And another. And another. And another - it doesn’t stop until you’re bleeding from your entire body as if a hole was opened up in your chest, but the process takes so long and it all stings so much that you’re kept alert throughout, and the feeling of having the life drained from your body as if your soul is leaking from every one of the thousands of wounds coating you is palpable.
But at least once you’re back with the rest of your unit, you’re all sewn back together again - you’re still dizzy from the bloodloss, and any breeze, even the slightest movement of air from someone walking past you opens up a new set of cuts - but at least you’re not dying anymore. That’s nice, isn’t it? Another chance to be worth something! ]
RUBY💖SOUR
Re: RUBY💖SOUR
straight into the trash bin. And along with you falls a shimmering orb which explodes into a beautiful cloud of glitter after making contact with one of the other bits of rubbish. It doesn’t seem that bad at first - maybe a little itchy, but it’s not the worst that could’ve happened. But then you can hear - something? It’s faint, but it sounds like:
!! DING DING DING !!
!! DING DING DING !!
Everything grows hazy, like you’ve suddenly just...become unstuck from existence and trapped in some sort of shadow realm...
...And then the changes begin. You can feel them, like something crawling beneath your flesh. Like something yearning to be free -- don’t you want to? Don’t you want to unfurl your wings, to fly? You do, right?! It’s painful, though...the insectile wings, the antennae atop your head, the chitinous plates all emerge from your skin, ripping straight through flesh. Whispers, frenzied and darting to and fro like you want to be, dance through your mind constantly, with no pause. You’re too heavy to really fly though, even with your new wings - how sad! But you still feel more free. You should celebrate with your friends when you get back! Wouldn’t playing some sort of prank on them be nice? It’d be funny to see someone get hurt, right? Right?!?!
At least once you’re back with the rest of your unit, you’re all sewn back together again - the pain doesn’t stop but at least your skin seals back up a bit. That’s nice, isn’t it? Another chance to be worth something! And you’re so much prettier now, too! Even if you can’t stop hearing those whispers or...uh, giggling. ]