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Clockwise Doom
willofthemanor wrote in pandoraheartsdr
Anyone who finds themselves on the second floor as the clock strikes midnight tonight will find themselves awaken (or, if awake already, thrown) in a very different place than they were before. Instead of rooms inside of a house, there's nothing but the inside of a broken toybox. The floor is wet, several centimeters of water at its shallowest, a foot at its deepest. There's no door to the outside, and even those Contracted to Chains with the ability to come and go freely from the Abyss will find themselves trapped in this place.

If you're lucky, you might be able to find an ornate room to sleep in. Just ignore the talking dolls.

The residents of the first floor will find no changes to their surroundings, aside from the fact that the staircases that once led to the second floor have temporarily disappeared. Though, they might hear sounds from some unearthly place when then Trumps begin to attack.

But really, to the Will, it's all in good fun.


[ooc - feel free to use this post as a place to mingle within the new mansion!Abyss, or make your own post! have fun!]

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feel free to kill a Chain or let Break save you. :D

*so if you're in the general vicinity of one Xerxes Break, well, too bad for you -- because that means you're also in the general vicinity of a generous-sized horde of Chains. There's several Trumps, a few dolls, and some skittery spider-like creatures, jockeying between one another as they chase that tasty-smelling human morsel; Break, meanwhile, has his sword out and is retreating toward an area with a bit more cover. He's having trouble coming up with one of his usual brilliant strategies at the moment, and he can't take on all of them at once without incurring certain risks--

A couple of the Chains turn off then, however, as they notice new prey nearby. Yes -- they're heading right toward you.*

[Liam has been trying to be unnoticed, but if they're going by smell... DNW SHIT.

He'll just be running now, derringer out, determined to make his shots count. If a derringer is even enough to kill these things.

One of the Trumps cuts him off and he shoots it in the middle of the face.]

*Break's head jerks over at the sound of the the shot and he squints toward Liam for a second before shifting into a flat run, heading in the other's direction; he kicks off a half-crumbled wall to make a flying leap toward the second Trump, summoning a brief burst of power as his blade tears into its head from behind. It dissolves as he hits the ground rolling, cold water splashing about*

Liam-- Are you all right!?-- *he doesn't spare the time to actually look at the other man, gaze jerking instantly back behind him where the rest of the Chains are still in pursuit*

[Break's appearance is unexpected, but more welcome than Liam can express, given that the second trump had been about to grab him when he arrived.]

I'm fine--

[And then he sees the rest of the Chains. He might have actually cursed uncharacteristically if he could find his voice. They're too far away for his derringer to be of any use, and he's not about to wait for them to come closer. When he does find it, all he says is,]

Run?

Run--

*he's not really the running type, but he's too busy trying to get his brain to stop spinning in circles to really feel irked about it right now. Getting to his feet, a quiet little cough passing his lips as he heads off, keeping pace with Liam*

Look for cover-- I can take them down separately-- *kicking off a doll that's managed to attach itself to his leg, taking a second to skewer it before he keeps running*

[This week is the single stupidest week in the history of stupid weeks, all the time, ever.

It was sheer luck that Break had fallen asleep in his clothes the night before he woke up to this obnoxious place or else he'd be running around in his pajamas in addition to being barefoot, and something's already got him once -- he's managed to get some makeshift bandages around his right thigh, but they're messy and bloody. He looks exhausted, tattered, and like he would so rather sit down and sulk than deal with any of this shit right now.

He's also carting around a bottle of what looks like vodka, which he found God knows where in this place, and which has a long bit of fabric firmly affixed to the opening. At the sight of the Chains on their way, Break actually rolls his eye, and goes to fish some matches out of his pocket.

Molotov cocktail time, bitches. Those dolls have enough ruffles on them to go up quite nicely, and hopefully run into a few other Chains while they're flailing around~]

*heading by some nearby rubble, Break quickly ducks and rolls behind it, giving the group following him just a moment's pause. One vicious slash sends a spider-thing smacking down hard into the water, and as he's looking around the bend, listening for the splashes of the other Chains--

Is that who he thinks it is over there!?---

Oh, this day just couldn't get any better. It doesn't occur to him to pay attention to the bottle of alcohol in the other's hand; all he notices at first is a single dubiously-civilian Break standing there staring down a pair of Trumps. Abandoning his bit of cover even as the rest of the gang surges up behind him, he breaks out into a flat run, leaping up and channeling power into his blade--

One Trump gives an awful screech as its lower body is shorn in half, all four limbs flailing wildly. Break barely manages to duck one giant arm as he stabs at the thing's head.*

[Awesome! Now that they're all heading this way, he can get more of them with this one throw and not worry about aim so much. Good work, Stuffy.

With an almost absurd calm -- because he really is tired of this nonsense -- Break sets the fabric on fire, winds up, and hurls the bottle. It strikes a floating block next to one of the dolls, shattering delightfully, and the resulting flames catch onto her dress. Shrieking, she falls onto a spider-thing, which lets out a roar and stumbles into a Trump -- etc.

It won't kill most of them, if any, but now they're all distracted and hopefully some of them will at least be hurt by it.]


They're busy now. Let's go.

*he honestly wasn't expecting that; eye wide, the other Break ducks away just in time to avoid getting caught up in the edges of the conflagration. His grip is tight on his sword as he pauses next to his other self just long enough to give a nod*

That way looks quieter, I hope-- Are you armed?-- *keeping pace with his other self as they flee, still throwing glances behind him. The shrieks of pained Chains and the smell of greasy smoke emanate from the clearing at their backs, but unfortunately it hasn't given all the creatures pause; four Trumps are still lumbering along on their tail.*

Leave him!

[Need help? Some of the larger Trumps scatter at Jack's order, but the dolls and spider-legged creatures remain. They're easy to dispatch with a sword; it should give Break a breather.]


*it takes a half-second for him to register that some of the Trumps are turning away from him; he spares another half-second to stare in bafflement before the smaller creatures have skittered up with every intention of swarming him. These he makes short work of, even as a couple of remaining Trumps ignore Jack to lumber on toward the tasty looking piece of human meat -- though perhaps a bit more warily now.

Break stifles a couple small coughs and eyes them for a moment, but when they don't immediately attack, he glances back in the direction of that vaguely familiar voice*

...A friend to Chains, are you, Lord Vessalius?

*his gaze flicks back and forth between the human and the still-encroaching Chains, the grip on his sword hilt very hard*

You could say that.

[The dolls shatter into sand as he stabs through them, and one of the Trumps meet a similar fate as he runs towards Break.]

Are you all right?

*staring down the other Trump, its long arm stretching toward him as he raises his blade, breathing a little fast*

Busy, to be sure, but not-- intolerably so---

*he crouches to spring up into a rather impossible-looking jump at that, stabbing the length of his sword right into the Trump's gigantic face and jerking it downward. Gravity carries him the rest of the way to the ground again and the sword rips a path through the lower half of the Chain's face, the Trump giving an ear-shattering screech as it too begins to dissolve into black sand.

In the moment of quiet that suddenly descends afterward, Break reaches up to stifle a brief, unpleasant cough.*

.....And what else could I say, then...? *he inquires once he's able to speak again, his other hand still keeping up a deathgrip on the sword*

Re: feel free to kill a Chain or let Break save you. :D

[Shelly, pulling her dressing gown close around her, frowns at the approaching Trumps and utters one word:]

Eques.

[A moment later, there is a whinnying and the creatures are engulfed in violet flame.]

*that voice---

He still hasn't gotten used to Shelly having a Chain in the first place, but even as his heart is threatening to leap from his chest with dismay that she's here too, he's abruptly turning on his heel to take advantage of the backup. A couple of the Trumps and many of the lesser creatures are tangling with Eques, but several of those huge hands are still reaching out through the flames toward him -- he sparingly summons some power as he hacks his way through the mess, at the same time searching around for the familiar form he knows must be somewhere nearby.*

[Shelly stands at the edge of the fray, on a crumbling piece of masonry. Having woken from her bed, she is barefoot and clad in a night shift and dressing gown, their hems wet from the water that flooded this domain. Despite the vulnerability of this, the fire in her eyes is no less fierce.]

[Seeing him, she leaps down with no thought of the cold water.]


Break!

Milady!!--

*cutting a swath through some of the dolls and smaller creatures to reach her side, turning back to survey the throng behind them. Thanks to Eques's diversion, the two humans seem to have gained a moment's peace*

Are you injured?-- We should head for better cover-- *his grip is tight on the hilt of his sword, gaze still fixed on the battle in front of them and the smaller Chains still scuttling around*

[ seemingly out of nowhere, canterbury steps out of the darkness and between break and the oncoming chains. though he's dressed in his normal choice of clothing, hatter's top-hat is perched on his head. time seems to slow for a moment, warp, the teenager's small body tensing-- and as the chain in the lead comes closer, he springs forward, leaping onto it with something between wild laughter and a sob.

hands plunge into one of its eyes and it howls as canterbury rips it out, crushing it into dust in its hand. the sight of such maiming seems to make the other chains realize what they're dealing with, even if they didn't recognize him in human form, slowing and even stopping in sudden fear for their lives.

even as the trump flails and shrieks, canterbury holds on, ripping and tearing and laughing until the trump's face is unrecognizable. until it collapses into dust.

canterbury remains there, then, as if daring another chain to attack break, laughing hysterically under his breath. --it's impossible for break to see from behind, of course, but tear streaks cut paths through the dust and blood. ]

*some of the Chains have wisely decided to flee at this point, and the rest remain frozen for a few moments as Break too stares wide-eyed, before finally stepping up behind his... well, not his Chain exactly, but not his human either.

Softly, he rests his hand on the other's shoulder, doing his best to keep steady despite the excess of adrenaline.*

...Caught you up too, did it?

*he speaks the obvious, and pauses, and just swallows a little. He usually likes the Hatter's laugh, but this is. Well.*

it's a bad day for both of them >:

[ at first, he jerks beneath the man's touch, wound too taut and clearly on a hair-trigger-- but then he recognizes the touch, the voice, and turns his head enough to be able to see him, tears still spilling down his face. it's a strange vision, considering the maniac smile. ]

.. Xerxes. [ he shifts closer, hands curling in the human's shirt, protective. ] Xerxes.

[ he can't seem to find other words, the laughter choking in his throat, dying, expression fading away into solemnity as his palms skim over the other man's back to search for injuries. .. he's missed his contractor. he's been so alone in the mansion, and to wake in the abyss again-- he'd thought it meant he was supposed to break and shatter all over again, and it had just-- been too much. ]

*weirdly, as unpleasant as it is that the boy should go have to through this, Break finds Canterbury's disheveled state something of a comfort. With someone this distraught to look after, he can't possibly be allowed to fall to pieces himself--

Still clutching his sword in a very careful fashion, Break winds both arms around him, still eyeing the Chains that hover warily about.*

I'm right here. Fit as a fiddle... ---A particularly well-used fiddle with a few strings loose, perhaps... *smiling, making his best attempt at banter in a not-completely-steady voice, grip on Canterbury tightening*

We'll-- be all right, between you and me. Hm?...

[Coincidentally, Liam was just returning from one of his frequent visits to that room below the mansion when he got tossed into the toybox. He had still failed to regain his contract with March Hare, but he did pick up an extra revolver in passing.

In fact, he was just about to pick off one of the Chains harassing Break when they turned on him. He gets the first Trump dead on, but those spidery things leap past it as it howls and falls. They're too fast and too close, and he only manages to graze one of them with the next shot.]

*the gunshot draws Break's attention, though, and within moments he's there -- the second Trump goes down with a sword to the face and an earthshattering screech; Break is kicking the smaller creatures aside, slashing his blade through the horde indiscriminately and reaching out to offer that familiar face a hand up*

Liam-- have you been hurt?--

[Oh, it's so wonderful to see Break moving and fighting like he used to! For a moment, that's all Liam notices, and he can't help grinning as he takes the offered hand.

It's also nice to not get eaten by Chains, of course.]


Xerxes! I'm - I won't say I'm glad you're here, but I am certainly glad to see you!

[Glad to meet you, he supposes he should say, but it doesn't seem like the time to worry about proper introductions.]

I'm all right, just a bit damp, I think. Are you okay?

[He gives Break a sharp, suspicious look, trying to tell if this Break has Hatter and if he's been using it to fight.]



[Being a Chain, this one can easily handle these trumps and spiders and dolls, but instead it zeros in on Break's psyche.

Sharon. He would do anything to save Sharon.

Easily, Baby morphs its features into hers and SCREAMS.]

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