thoughtformed | DUNGEON LOG.

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DUNGEON LOG.

Where: Varying underground locations somewhere on the island.
When: Early morning on the eighteenth through the end of the twenty-first.
Who: Seven teams of two people, listed below.
Why: Because nobody likes a snoop.

Starting the morning on the eighteenth, there are seven new local cable channels available on island TV. There are no ads announcing them, so only people channel-surfing will run across them at first. Each channel shows something rather shocking: two people held together by a pair of thick, futuristic shackles made of some strange white plastic. They're somewhere underground, and followed constantly by hidden cameras in their surroundings. Welcome to the strangest reality TV show ever.

For those seven teams, however, life is significantly worse. They'll wake up in the darkness, shackled to someone they may or may not know. They'll be wearing whatever clothes they wore yesterday (thankfully, not whatever they wore to bed). They'll be carrying anything they usually carry, though any weapon will be lacking extra ammunition beyond the load it started with. Their electronic devices will not connect to any networks or receive any signal, but will otherwise behave normally. Worst, however, any supernatural abilities they possess will be dampened -- subtly for some, more extremely for others (sorry Jade).

The shackles will not cut or break. Any attempt to remove them merely tightens them. There is no visible lock to pick. Examine or struggle how you will, but short of severing your forearm there's no certain way to remove them.

So: where the Hell are you, anyway?

Check out the threads below for answers.

Team One: Tim – Jade

Team Two: Finnick – Remus

Team Three: Jack – Kaylee

Team Four: Sherlock – Davesprite

Team Five: Natasha – Feferi

Team Six: Naoto – Ramona

Team Seven: Jenny – Nathan

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You wake up in pitch blackness. It is extremely hot – well over ninety degrees Fahrenheit – and so humid that you are already drenched in sweat. The air is thick and musty, and the stone underneath you is crusted with lichen. When you find a light source, you will see that you are in a cavern cobbled together from large, blocky stone slabs, smooth surfaced once but roughened by age and the bearded tendrils of shaggy moss hanging off of them. Between the hanging mosses, rounded faces stare out from the stone. At the end of the corridor is one massive, tilted head, and beside it is a tall iron grating set in the wall.

You wake to the dim flicker of torchlight. It is cold and extremely dry. Every surface around you is coated in a thick layer of rock dust, which your arrival clearly disturbed – but without leaving a clear trail. You are in a tall gallery – torches and tapestries alternate on the walls, and fluted pillars upprt the ceiling. The walls are made of smooth sandstone, as is the ceiling; and the floor is tiled in interlocking mosaics of ceramic tiles, once comfortable but faded now with age. A pool of still water sits at one end of the room; and a balconied gallery overlooks it from fifteen feet up. The one entrance you can see has half-caved in, a broken pillar lying across it and leaving very little space.

You wake to a dim, almost imperceptible light, in a narrow corridor made of blue-grey brick. If there is a ceiling it is too high above you to glimpse. There is a distant churning sound from somewhere further down the corridor, and at the corner where you are a rusted copper pipe with a mouth nearly two feet across looms above you.

Fluorescent lights flicker crazily around you as you wake. Once, this corridor you were in was probably part of an office building – or maybe a hospital, judging by the pale tiling of the floor. It seems to have survived an earthquake at some point in the past – wall panels tilt crazily and claustrophobically inward further down the hall, and several glass panels opening onto side office are mazed with cracks.

You wake on a smooth cool floor, staring up at stalactites above you.This vaulted cavern was once rough and natural, but now marble tiles coat the floor. Sourceless light illuminates it dimly, and while a cave-in blocks the way behind you, a shallow staircase rises ahead and leads into a narrow corridor , gauzy with cobwebs.

You awake in pitch blackness and complete silence. When you find a way to make light, you see a rough cave of blocky, irregular stone, mounded soil against one wall. A slanted rift in the floor seems to be the only way out, presenting what almost seems to be a crude ramp further into the earth.

You wake to see faint orange light seeping through the cracks between stones in this massive corridor. Fifteen feet tall and just as broad, it nonetheless narrows to thread between two looming statues, their heads hidden in shadow. Odd, narrow ledges, some set with rusted iron railing, run alongside the walls at various heights and occasionally vanish like mouseholes into the walls.

[If you're watching this on TV, every half an hour or so a link will flash on the screen, directing you to the discussion forums of the Dungeon Quest Network. You're welcome to either post in your own journals, or to put any reactions here].

Sherlock is actually used to waking up in strange places, the result of kidnappings and cocaine binges alike, although it had been a few years since it had happened until showing up on New Moore broke his streak, and he reacts the same way: he feigns his continued unconsciousness until he can assess his surroundings with his remaining senses.

Unfortunately, his remaining senses only tell him that he's somewhere smooth, cold, probably indoors and certainly far away from the sounds of the city, and he's attached to something at the wrist. They also tell him he's not alone, but there's only one other person beside him, so he chances opening his eyes. He immediately closes them again and groans.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Being the more level-headed thinker of the Marauders, Remus did not spring into action the moment his eyes began to adjust to the light. There was rock dust settled on his clothing, and the flickering torchlight reminded him of Hogwarts where it barely touched the tapestries and set the world into a mix of low light and long shadows.

He'd seen creepier places, having spent most of his Hogwarts years in the shrieking shack and the forbidden forest. The main curiosity was the potential exit, covered in debris and broken pieces of sandstone and pillar.

For a long moment he just sits and takes it in, hand feeling for his wand to make sure it was still there and had not broken. His fingers curled around it reassuringly and it was only as he went to get to his feet he noticed there was someone else attached to him at the wrist.

"Alright, there?"

Jack awakens to a dull headache and a chill. His back aches as he sits up and groggily looks around the unfamiliar surroundings. What the hell did he do last night? He didn't really remember any drinking. Just falling asleep at the office again with his head buried in paperwork and research, and nothing about going to strange buildings. Not this time, anyway. He frowned and lifted his hand to scratch at his head, pausing when the clink of the handcuffs caught his attention.

Jack took a long moment to study the situation, examining the handcuffs and the pretty girl he was chained to. Definitely not the first time that's happened, but this was one of the stranger places it happened. She was still asleep, and clothed, thankfully, but it was still a strange predicament to be in. He takes one last look around the room and down the corridor, straining his old eyes to see what was making the odd noise. It's hard for him to discern and he decides to wake the girl before investigating. He reached over with his free hand to gently shake her shoulder.

"Hey. Hey. Wake up."

Okay. Waking up in a strange corridor with glowing orange lights was certainly a bit disconcerting, but Jenny really wasn't worried. The confusion shows on her face for a moment as she studies the surroundings, but then disappears into an excited grin. Dangers be dashed, this was an adventure waiting to happen.

She was always looking for the chance to find them. Maybe even rescue a civilization or two or fight some more creatures like her brilliant dad. So it's perhaps an unorthodox reaction that she displays.

"Nathan?" Yes. That was definitely her boyfriend cuffed to her arm there. That was... new. She gave him a light shake, a bright smile still ever present. Strange or not, no reason to let new surroundings get her down. They would figure out a way out of there, and until they did, Exploring!

"Nathan, wake up!"

Ramona wakes with a start, acutely aware of the silence, and upon waking, the darkness. She sits up and begins to feel around with her hands, her heart beginning to race and pound in her ears harder and harder with each second that passes. However, her hand bumps into something hard, but soft and warm right next to her, and her panic and shock leads her to pull a terrified scream out of her throat as she tries to scramble away from the unidentified object.

Tim woke up cataloguing drug symptoms as a matter of paranoid habit. No nausea, not ketamine. No grogginess, not thiopental. He'd clearly been moved, and he was lying sprawled on a stone floor in a hot environment with a wide cuff around his right wrist. Despite the unnatural position he was lying in, he felt less uncomfortable than he'd expect. Propofol, then. That didn't tell him much, propofol was the obvious choice and could be found in any hospital.

He could hear someone breathing nearby, and as a result he kept his eyes shut (not that it mattered, in the dark) and his own breathing regular. If he was being watched, best not to let anyone know he was awake...

She knows that feeling. That dazed, grey, foggy sensation behind her eyes and in her brain, thick and soupy. She's been drugged, and heavily by the feel of it, and she fights it, mentally clawing her way into consciousness. The only sign of this, outwardly, are a few minute facial twitches, things that could be perceived as dreaming, REM sleep. She lays still a few moments more, listening to her surroundings.

There's the breath of someone next to her, the cool floor under her skin, and behind her eyelids she can see the vague sense of light. There are no voices, no noise other than the person next to her breathing, and Natasha risks opening her eyes, frowning at the sight of the stalactites above her, at the strange weight on her wrist. She glances down at it, and follows the trail--

And her first reaction is to gasp, scrambling away from the.. whatever it is she's connected to. What the hell is that?

Naoto wakes up to screaming. Jolts awake hard, tearing the arm back that's inexplicably has a cool press of metal and plastics against her wrist, that's suddenly being pulled-!

With a yelp of pain, Naoto tries to wrench her arm back. "That's enough! Who's there?" Understandably, she sounds just a little bit unsettled.

"Ow! Watch it!" At least it's another person and not some flesh-eating monster waiting in the darkness. She tries to steady her breathing, though she's still entirely shaken. This wasn't Subspace... it was never this cold. Or pointy. She felt herself for any cuts or injuries, feeling no blood, but finding herself with her Subspace Suitcase conveniently at her hip.

"Ramona... Ramona Flowers." She tugs at the wrist locked to Naoto, testing the bond weakly. "What's your name?"

It's probably not normal that the first thing Nathan does when his eyes snap open his check himself over for just-healed wounds. But no, he's not gasping to life, not lying in a puddle of his own blood. He's perfectly fine. Somehow, that makes the situation even weirder.

He gives Jenny a sidelong smirk and a customary "hello, love" before taking in his surroundings.

There are better places to wake up handcuffed to your girlfriend.

Specifically, anywhere but a cold stone corridor with creepy-as-hell statues.

Oh no, this is not on.

The panic edges quickly into his voice as he asks, "The fuck is this? Is this some kind of seedy sex dungeon?" Yeah, because that's the most likely scenario here.

And Feferi would have most likely been content to stay sleeping, quite comfortable barring the sudden shock her arm receives from the tug of the cuffs. Upon waking, her first instinct is to brace her arm against the pressure, surprisingly strong for being so scrawny.

"Hey!" she grumbles, steadying herself into a seat with her free palm. Giving her eyes a good scrub, she then blinks owlishly at the plastic cuff encircling her wrist, following it up to the source of the jolt. A human!

"Oh! Well, how do you glubbing like that. Hello?"

If she's noticed their bleak surroundings, she's not letting on. It wouldn't be the strangest place she's taken a nap, after all.

Well, it's been a while since Finnick's been handcuffed to anyone against his will. It's also been a while since he was forced into a strange and threatening situation.

For a few moments, he's quiet, looking around and getting his bearings. It was only a matter of time until something like this happened; he's been growing less and less complacent, skipping those mandatory therapy meetings and spending more time at sea. All in all, it's not really a surprise.

What he didn't expect: Being attached to a man he's never seen before. Finnick doesn't pay as much attention to the network as he should. This guy could have been here for months — but he's had a lot on his plate, so it's hard to know.

"I'm fine, aside from the obvious." He lifts his hand, dragging Remus' along with it, and rattles the cuffs. "Well, that's fun." Yeah, this guy is in a position many would've literally killed for back in the day. He throws the mystery man what he knows is his most charming and reassuring smile before introducing himself. "Finnick Odair. It's a pleasure."

It really isn't, but might as well keep up appearances before this gets nasty.

"My apologies." Naoto ceases the tugging and pulling when the other person replies. She knows of Ramona through the journals, although they've never spoken directly. She doesn't seem like the person capable of kidnapping someone in their sleep, but.. Naoto's been mistaken about people before.

Still, it would be irrational to trap someone by handcuffing them to you in a damp and darkened location. Most likely they are both victims here.

"My name is Shirogane Naoto. But I'm afraid I can't tell you how it is we've ended up here. Do you have any idea how this happened?"

"Not a clue." She squints, trying to see around, and failing. "I was hoping you'd have some kind of idea. Hold up." There's the sound of a zipper opening and what sounds like a lot of rustling while Ramona searches her bag for something. She pulled out a small flashlight, and after a few taps, the bright little lightbulb dimly flickers on, just enough to be able to see one another for the time being.

"There. That's a little better." She lifts her head to look around. "Where are we?"

As far as Remus is concerned, this is just another uncomfortable and strange circumstance added to his original kidnapping. After all, he had transformed right outside the hospital. They had to know what he was now. And human, or wizard, people rarely responded well to Werewolves.

"Remus Lupin." He offered an uncertain smile back, not particularly reassured, but at least he seemed nice enough. He takes another look around, slipping his wand away before inevitable questions came about. If this was a Muggle, he would have to be careful, and right now was hard to say. He'd drop a few hints later, see if they gathered any recognition.

"I know I have not seen much of the island, but this place really does not look familiar at all.

Hey!!

He was supposed to take me somewhere.

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DUNGEON LOG.

Team One

Team Two

Team Three

Team Four

Team Five

Team Six

Team Seven

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