Grade

[Closed] Lost RPG

@spiral origin

Sounds of loud thuds, smaller wooden thuds and varying loudnesses of slithering could be heard approaching the campfire. In the distance, it's almost visible that trees are getting suddenly impacted, and leaves fall down as they violently shake.

Eventually, the black-haired man on a wheelchair emerges, and he sees a reduced number of people in the campsite. He glances around, spotting Ember first, and so he drops the chain he held attached to a bear trap gobbling the bottom trunk of the tree he decapitated minutes ago and elected not to waste, and then slowly approached the nauseated person sitting near a campfire.

"Scalding Ember. Where did they go?"

@wierdw

[Closed] Lost RPG

It unnerved the black-haired man on a wheelchair, this feeling that he's being watched. The forest seemed endless too, he could get lost for real if this goes on. He does have this constant, vague sense of where north is, and wherever 'here' is right now, it still seems to be working.

Is it paranoia or something's surveying him from a distance? Is it just all the animals? Either way, they need to be taught a lesson on dominance hierarchy. He backs up towards one of the closest trees around him and fully elbows it with his left arm, with the intent of carving out a huge slice of the trunk and making the tree fall down.

@spiral origin

[Closed] Lost RPG

The black-haired man on a wheelchair is not there, as well as his wheelchair. A perceptive person could possibly detect the trail of two lines being dragged across this sandy floor, while those who would happen to just be staring at him would notice him venturing into the forest by himself. In fact, he would have noticed them back and gestured an index finger close to his mouth to indicate silence.

Silence. Indeed. Away from the mortals and their incessant talking. It's not quite as silent as being in the deep ocean, but the usual forest sounds are a nice change of pace. Not being submerged in material that induces rust and moss is a boon, too.
To reminisce from several minutes ago, he so immediately felt the befalling of pure cringe -- a feeling he didn't even imagine he could feel until then -- as Landon began touting his lineage, that he could not have heard Sonia's response to it. Sonia Al-Ha... Hay...t...? Sonia. Just Sonia. Yes, at this point she's probably the de-facto leader of this troupe. Not that he cares for it. Might be valuable information for later.

He halted from this rocky trek, his wheelchair enduring the bumps of several tree roots like a wagon let loose on a hill. He took from his inner pocket a flask of what seems like water but is most likely not, pulled down the cloth concealing the lower half of his face, and drank it.

@spiral origin

[Closed] Lost RPG

"I see."

The black-haired man on a wheelchair turned towards the loud redhead talking to the young man. Bah, he has no interest in cooperating with people. It's just going to be an annoyance. He expects nothing of this lot.

His head turned to the beach for some kind of distraction. Nothing on there. Any trees nearby that he could climb? Someone has to map out this island and look for notable spots. That redhead's quite tall for a woman. This other woman's orange tattered dress is distracting. He tried to grab the dress but she reflexively reacted, and he whispered "I just want to see what it's made of." Where has he seen this material? It's some kind of linen but it reflects light like silk... Wait a minute.

He snickered. "Hey, kid, I think I know whose dress this is. Oh, she's going to be mad." He scanned the area. "Is she still berating the widow?"

[Closed] Lost RPG

The black-haired man rolled up behind the small woman in the tattered bright orange jumpsuit. "Oh hey, you're the child with concealed weapons. What in the hell are you wearing? Anyway, how are you unscathed? My arm got torn off but it's fine now." He waves his elbow around while leaning forward.

[Closed] Lost RPG

@spiral origin@Pakde

Slow-moving as he was, the black-haired man on a wheelchair, while turned around, could 'see' this event befall, this... horned redhead scolding a distraught, possibly freshly widowed woman, for forgetting the well-being of her daughter.

The thing is, this horned redhead's in the right. Few things strike anger within him in this world, one of them being the mistreatment of children. Suddenly, the widow's hand was knocked off of her child's with an invisible force, and she was subsequently knocked off her feet, made to fall on her bottom. At the same time, the child was enveloped with a force quite wind-like, keeping her from collapsing yet gently guiding her down to sit on the subsequently rapidly cooling sand.

Beyond this, he felt no more obligation. He shrugged and resumed rolling towards where Ember and Viviana were, intent to preserve his limited energy.

[Closed] Lost RPG

The black-haired man with a greenish walking stick, chuckled as he picked the seaweed off his head. Yeah, he deserved that.

More to the point, he slowly walked out towards the sea again. Something he just noticed a while ago, the remote link to his actual human body has been severed. Granted, he's very much mentally tuned it out (much like what Ember's doing to him) as he's only ever received a constant stream of heartbeat sounds, joint pain, and bed sores. The Greenes have his actual body on lock so it should be safe anyway.

He spotted a familiar handle and pulled it out of the sand and sat on the emergent chair. Back to the point, he could only imagine a few reasons why this remote link has been severed. His real body could be dead, but the timing of that just seemed statistically unlikely, as that would also require the death or betrayal of the Greenes. There's also no distance on the planet that this link would be severed, as he'd roamed around it for a century.

A different planet? But Ember is right, this whole beach scenery does not look otherwordly in the slightest. Although, there doesn't seem to be any landmass across the sea no matter which direction he looked, which doesn't seem right. It was a mere short 5-day trip, there's no way they would get beached this far away.
An anti-magic barrier may be surrounding this whole island, and it'd sever his remote link for sure, but irregardless of this existing or not, maybe a grimmer truth has befallen them. This place could be an alternate dimension.

Wait. He glanced at this thing he sat on. Checked on the side. Wheels confirmed. Oh. This is his wheelchair. He could sense no damage from it either. He would smile if he could. It really is paying off that he stole those iron ingots. After a magic shiver to get rid of all the sand, he began to drive back towards Ember and the rest, but in his haste and in giving the wheels too much torque, it only stuck him in place as the wheels shoveled the sand away. He shook his head, how dumb of him. After pulling his chair out of this sand crevasse, he drove off towards Ember's group again but slowly.

[Closed] Lost RPG

This black-haired man who's not on a wheelchair and is instead using a raw greenish cane of wood, slowly paced around the beach looking for his wheelchair. It's futile to use his eyesight on this, it seems every meter there's a piece of wood sticking out of the sand. It's almost prescient that he reinforced his wheelchair with several bars of iron, so he could detect it with this... strange, innate metal sense that he has, instead.

Nothing's come up with this however, and it's come to a point where he reaches Ember's immediate location, with this strange seaweed-covered chest crawling behind her. Ember herself, with this disheveled, sodden, seaweed-covered look. He pointed with his left hand, "You have a leaf on your shoulder."

He looks at the sky, in a combination of perhaps trying to find a celestial body, like a moon, and mainly trying not to even chuckle at Ember's situation. "Hey... How possible do you think it is that we're in a different planet?"

[Closed] Lost RPG

The protection spell placed on the black-haired man rapidly decayed, and the low static sound he emanated had suddenly ceased.

...

Movement.

His head straightened up, and his right stump moved to his chest as he shook his left shoulder, and then his left hand held the back of his neck as he twisted it around. "Hello, consciousness," he told himself.

He looked to his left. The redhead with horns, followed by some kind of blue-robed cultist that he'd never seen before on the ship. Suspicious individuals. He paid no heed to them and looked forward. Large chunks of the ship, out on the shore. Wait, their ship? He has to find his chair. He tried to get up, but immediately started tilting to the right due to lacking a sense of balance, and so he instinctively held out his right arm to catch his fall, but it wasn't there and so his head slammed the floor.

What in the hell is going on... It's not something that'd so easily detach from his body. Actually, where is his pet snake wearing a skull of another snake? Did someone steal it from him along with his arm? Is it these two? No, they're not holding a snake of some sort. They're looking at him. "I'm fine," he proclaimed.

He sat up and reached back at the tree behind him. Cracks formed into the tree, and a slice of it came off to reveal a wooden walking cane, greenish and wet with sap but it'll do. He slowly, centenarily started walking out of the trees' shade and back onto the sands. At one point, his cane slides deep into the sand due to his sheer weight, prompting him to change the base of his cane into something flatter. Oh, there's his arm. He leaned down and dropped his right arm onto it, sliding his sleeve onto it, and a click sound latches it back to him. He tests by moving his right fingers, for measure.

The crunching sound of sand as he moves his joints. It was beginning to be grating. The bits of moisture inside his body, too. Steam rises from the back of his neck as his body shivers, shooting sand out at a small radius around him. He resumes his walk to find his wheelchair.

[Closed] Lost RPG

The black-haired man who's currently not on a wheelchair and instead half-submerged in sand, spoke not of words but a low static noise.

When the snake draped in another snake's skeleton darted away from his arms with such force, it flung his arms up and one of them fully broke off from the elbow and flew three feet away. The humming suddenly intensified, along with more static noise, and this feeling that all the energy in the air and the ground and the nearest benevolent necromancer was being drained into him.

As this went on, his head slowly turned to align his eyes with the visage of this blind, blue-robed figure. There was no expression on his face.

If one were to look closely at his severed arm, there's no blood. It's just some kind of prosthetic made of terracotta flesh and iron bones.