Test Drive

[uploadedmods]

TEST DRIVE 001


-TDM threads can be considered game canon if players involved agree & if it suits any roles you may decide to choose for the current plot.
-Any reserving player that does not submit an app by Saturday morning will be subject to challenging applicants.
-Participation in the Test Drive is worth a flat 10 points per month rather than per thread, and you must have a minimum of 5 comments in that month to qualify for it.
-This TDM is good for the duration of the Mist setting. A new TDM will go up before the next setting.

The NETWORK for this setting is a voice-only walkie talkie system that can be used to communicate between all locations. The default channel will be open to all walkie talkies, but characters can change to an unused channel for private conversation.
of note: There seems to be something strange about these walkie talkies, in that there is no static. The quality is disturbingly crystal clear, like the person you're speaking to is right next to you instead of miles away.

CONTENT WARNING: Some prompts contain gore, character death, and substance abuse.

Reserves will open on Saturday, September 8 until Saturday, September 15
Applications will open Saturday, September 15 until Saturday, September 22

General Prompts


The lights above you are a blindingly, pristine white. The walls around you curve up into the ceiling like the inside of an MRI machine. Your hands, feet, and midsection are strapped to a clinical table, and minutes seem to tick by, with no clear course for escape presenting itself to you.

The curved white space above you flickers with color, and a perfect square like a television screen expands before your eyes. It pans over what appears to be a town, something small and simply populated.

“Hello, and welcome to your first setting,” a neutrally cadenced feminine sounding voice begins, riding the line between human and machine. As she speaks, captions of the text type themselves in neat and perfect Arial font. “The location is loosely based off Bridgton, Maine, United States of America, Earth. The year is 2007. You have been selected to participate. Obedience ensures an enjoyable and immersive experience for our audience. If you have been granted a role, instructions will follow. Do not talk about the role. Do not attempt disobedience. If you have not been granted a role, your objective for this round is simple: survive.”

After that, the shackles may release promptly and allow your character to roam free. Or perhaps not — perhaps they've been given a role to play, and if so, further instructions will play out upon the screen. Once suitably briefed, characters will be released to their own devices. Beware the mist.

CHECK OUT THE CURRENT SETTING PAGE FOR DETAILS ABOUT THE LOCATION.

learn from the mistakes of others

A pair of unperturbed mall inhabitants decide to chance the mist. They're the first of a handful to trickle out the front doors, and they seem to get by just fine. About a minute ticks by, and they disappear completely into the dense fog that presses in from every direction. It's so anticlimactic that for a moment it almost seems stupid to feel uncomfortable by the sight of it.

Until precisely one half of a body is hurled abruptly and with great force from an indeterminate point in the obscurity. It's not a top half or a bottom half; no, it's a cleanly sliced left half, head to toe as though a neat line were cut down the middle. It slams into the transparent glass doors and crumples before them, still and obviously unmoving, slowly leaking.

After a few seconds, a dark tendril of something reaches out, curls around the jutting left ankle, and drags it with painstaking slowness back into the fog.

At least the rest of them probably made it, right?

Right?

Hopefully you weren't one of the others to follow their lead. If you were, that dark shape seems to be closing in awfully quick.

eff this, let's bounce

A pair of car keys can be found discarded or perhaps dropped in their owners' haste. Braving the mist when it's at its lightest and pressing the key fob will cause a car to beep politely, flashing lights to indicate its location in the fog. Take anyone willing to go with you and pile in. Try to get the hell out of dodge!

An excellent idea....

Within five miles of the car's journey the battery will die and the engine will stall. Consider yourselves effectively stranded and with no one but yourselves to blame. Perhaps help will come if you wait long enough? Hours, surely no more than a few days... Maybe you should consider braving the fog to get back? Five miles can feel like a hundred in conditions like these.

Either way, it seems like you're trapped in the car for about as long as R. Kelly got trapped in the closet during that one unfortunate CD.

radio chatter

Characters in the library and the church will be able to communicate via walkie talkie radio chatter immediately! Characters in the mall will not have this ability until later in the month, so any network style threads with a mall character will take place during Week Two of the October plot or later, after most people have already been fully introduced to the setting and given time to adapt.

Roles

Employee of the Month (Multiple)

Some characters will be printed wearing a designated kiosk uniform, their name sloppily stickered in slightly crooked letters onto a Dippin' Dots badge, or whatever store they may happen to be assigned to. The cool voice that introduces them to the mist will carry on to tell them that they'll be playing employee # _____ in this month's immersive experience. Their motivations and objectives are simple: go to work.

Except the role seems to be bugged, because they can never not go to work. If they leave the five or six foot radius of their designated post they'll begin to experience consequences, which worsen in severity based on distance and duration. The role doesn't end at mall closing, it doesn't end on Saturdays, it simply doesn't end. Hopefully next month's code push will have a bug fix; we apologize for the inconvenience.

(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the role will wear off within the first in-game week)

Aggravated Assault

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of a CONVICTED FELON having recently been released on parole. Your motivation for this month's immersive experience is frustration. Having undergone hard time, you'll find that we have increased your aggression and temper characteristics, and lowered your inhibitions. Your objective is to find and begin an altercation with Snuff the Rooster, who will be playing the role of the person who turned you in, NARK. Your altercation must take place in a public space with witnesses, and may not stop until Snuff the Rooster is unconscious, evicted from the mall, or someone intervenes.

Thank you for your participation!

Consequences for not completing the objective in this role can be moderate to severe.

Snuff the Rooster

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of NARK. Formerly a close friend and ally of CONVICTED FELON from Aggravated Assault, you were quick to roll on them during police questioning in exchange for your freedom. Your motivation is to turn over a new leaf, and get your shit together. Your objective is to survive the altercation.

Thank you for your participation!

The Lovers (Duo Role)

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing one half of a partnership role! Please seek out (character 2). Your motivation this round is love, and the need to protect your partner from threats both inside and outside of the mall. Your objectives is to greet your lover with a kiss and place them above all others. Do not act like strangers.
Consequences for not completing the objective in this role or failing to present a convincing couple can be mild to moderate.

Pathological

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. Your motivation is to tell lies; at least one third of what you say must be unarguably untrue. Your objective is to keep these lies from being discovered as false.
Consequences for not complying with this role can vary from mild to severe, with the compulsion to tell larger and larger lies growing as time goes on.

Scared Speechless

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. You may choose one person, stranger or otherwise. This is the only person you may communicate with, either verbally or through writing.
Consequences for not complying with this role are severe.

Glitches

potency error

Someone seems to have miscalculated the relative strength of intoxicants; all inhibition-altering substances seem to have been cranked up to eleven. One shot has the strength of three, though the taste seems to stay exactly the same. One or two drinks will quickly creep up on you. One of the joints found discarded in the bathroom trashcans will easily green you out. God forbid you've got anything stronger.

greatest movie of all time

Settling in to the relatively nice theater found at the far end of the mall is a decent way to make the time go by. The projectors are automated, and there are six different theaters that show flicks at scheduled times.

Except that every single one of them is showing Spider-Man 3. Every single one, every single showing, no matter what is advertised, becomes Spider-Man 3. That's how you know this is a horror game. Hope you didn't wander in by mistake because the doors will shut behind you and leave you to watch the entire showing. Please keep your feet off of the seats.

please replace toner cartridge

It seems there was an error in printing someone this first time around; everything came through but the visuals somehow. Your character is flesh and blood, fully formed, wearing tangible clothes even, but are completely invisible. Donning additional clothing causes it to clip out and then promptly disappear. Taking clothes off will cause them to reappear. Hopefully this gets fixed in the next lite patch.

(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the glitch will wear off within the first in-game week)

code bases by tricklet

Comments

[yorozuya]

[The albino's eyes widen and he takes a step back to allow the other space as terror shifted into something else... Something that was a little too familiar. His eyes lift to catch the lump of carcass that had once been another living being - crumpled just outside of the glass doors. The splatter of dark gore slowly spreads and dribbles as he watches... listening to the other retch.

He wasn't sure which sight he would rather look at.]

Yeah, the shit out there is too much. [He offers quietly before he does finally take to looking down at the other.

The scene is all too familiar. He's seen it in the war, when comrades covered in gore would sob and hurl as they wiped off entrails. As they spoke of entire companies being wiped out before their very eyes.

And he always stood removed, unable to stop and join in their despair because he had to keep moving forward. He couldn't stop. If he stopped, then he would never start again---

The vivid memory sense a chill through his spine. He takes in a steady breath and looks away again.]

Wait, wait. Not here. Let's move from here before people start flockin' [Last thing either of them needed was some sort of scene. The albino is quick to grab at the other and attempt to usher him into a near-by clothing shop. He doesn't attempt to push the other too far if they succeed in entering the shop. He simply wanted them to be away from prying eyes as people could easily walk past and see them near the glass entryway.]

There, now take a moment to yourself. I'm gonna get you some more clothes, yeah? Take this to clean up with... or do whatever you need to with. [Without a second thought, Gintoki tugs a woman's shawl off of a hanger and throws it to the other. Whether he cleaned himself up or simply clutched onto it was his prerogative.]

[yorozuya]

[Gintoki hasn't worried too much about the probability of the food running out. Given that his broke ass goes for days at a time without food... and his adolescence of war time rations.... and his own childhood of being a mongrel that simply forage for what he could find off of corpses...

Yeah, it's not exactly a big worry in his head yet. For now, he's just living it up!]

Yeah? You haven't set up yet? Man, the temptation to go full hooligan was just too much for you, was that it? [But the albino snickers, waving a hand.] You better scout out a good place before all the good places are taken. You don't wanna end up having to camp out in a bathroom stall or something. I got a feeling people around here are gonna start getting territorial. [... Himself included!]

[yorozuya]

Ah ha, finally someone is playing along. This is how this sorta thing was supposed to go! Instead most people just pummeled him before he even truly had a chance to paint a scene. Red eyes lock on to the other man, and he offers a chuckle.

"Sensei. Ginpachi-Sensei. Mrs. Gibson was the one with the limp in her leg. I have the limp in my eyes," he motions at his glasses for the other to take note of his droopy eyes, "I hope your poetry skills have improved more in that years than your cognitive recollection, huh? If they have, maybe I'll even pour some sake for you, huh?"

[yorozuya]

[Perfect. He takes to helping himself once the little edgelord seems to relent. Procuring the cup of strange little cream orbs was stressful, as every flavor truly spoke to him - but eventually he manages to simply settle on a cup of banana split. He even does so without truly trashing the stall (... simply because he wanted to get more later, and wading through a mess would be a pain).

Once he has his ice cream, he takes to leaning back against one of the counters, tilting his head as he pops a spoonful into his mouth.]

Why do ya care if I break something, huh? Thought you didn't care about your job?

[yorozuya]

Gintoki flips open one of the blades before he holds it to eye level to examine the design on the blade. He isn't truly looking for anything beyond something that strikes him as cool. Then it'll earn a "good enough" before he pockets it into his pant pocket.

"Yeah, some asshole threw it at me while I was trying to get away from him," the albino grumbles, "All I did was try to get him to grab some booze for me. The shit's free, and instead he tried to cut me to ribbons. Who even does that...?"

Well, he knows exactly who does that. And old "friend" with long-standing beef. Those sort of violent altercations were basically how they said hello nowadays - but it pissed him off anyway! He hadn't been armed at all... And now he has a stupid handicap in future fights thanks to it.

Right, but this guy had asked him about medical attention, not about the conditions of the fight. So he reaches up to prod at his left shoulder, feeling for any tell-tale dampness. His teeth clench against the burning ache that flares up with the contact, but the blood hasn't started to seep into the fabric of his black shirt - so it must've been doing "well enough."

"I had some kid try to patch it up, but I don't think first-aid was his strong suit. Probably could use a change in dressings. Why, you know how to do that sorta thing?"

Please say yes. Please say yes.

[yorozuya]

[As they speak, Gintoki takes to sitting on the floor. He stretches his legs out, holding his shoulder to stabilize it as he takes the opportunity to pause and simply... attempt to collect himself. He looks upward at the buildings ceiling, red eyes running over the support beams and light fixtures that sit overhead.]

Yeah, the glass is blocking out the smoke. Or the mist, right? I figure that's what those things live in. [The albino's gaze to catch the other's face.] Have you inhaled any of that stuff? It does stuff to you immediately. Isn't just a summer fog, y'know. So it's either luxury of choice or a waiting game. [His nostrils flare as he lets out an exhale, shaking his head. He was desperately fighting against thinking this was a hopeless situation... but damn if it wasn't difficult sometimes!]

[yorozuya]

[The shifting weight on his shoulders is easy to manage at first. His hands easily steady her, and he shifts his stance to allow for her tugging. While it is a bit of an odd situation, it did seem this little distraction was working perfectly. Sure, he liked the jacket - but really he was simply looking for an excuse to distract the both of them from what they had seen at those doors.

... And as he's lost in this thought, Petunia gives a particularly strong tug that has him losing control of her. His eyes widen, he looking upward as he sees her begin to lose her balance. He takes a step backward and forward, desperately trying to regain control.] Oi, oi, oi! Careful! [He barks in absolute futility.]

When that doesn't work, Gintoki takes to the next best thing - falling back and attempting to break her fall at least just a little bit. As Petunia's body falls backward, Gintoki takes to dropping forward so that his body can at least act as a bit of a cushion for the poor, young woman who had gone along with his scheme.]

[generalstudies]

[Shinso had wanted to warn her from more of a neutral position. It clearly didn't hit her there, though. It was bad enough to be used to being ignored. He understood that. He didn't understand being actively chased for something like that. Things were a lot different in the past, weren't they? Maybe he should have just let her trust people and enjoy the cats.]

[Still, he didn't want her to run into trouble. If he didn't warn her and she ended up hurt for it, he'd blame himself.]

Yeah, you look super tough. [he agrees with a sort of certainty.] If someone even tougher starts giving you problems run 'em back here and I'll splash hot coffee on their face.

[And, well, maybe use his extremely nerfed mind control powers.]

[generalstudies]

[It's not like Shinso would know either- but he gets the point. They've exchanged snarky commentaries.]

They're not bad. I had a girl here earlier who said she was from the 1920's. They were pretty impressive to her.

[So, like, different strokes for different folks.]

You can judge for yourself, if you want. It's after hours so I don't think you have to pay or anything.

[During the day, he was more beholden to the strict rules of his job. Attempting to break them gave him terrible headaches. At least, even if he couldn't leave, he didn't have to be a "good employee" at night.]

[relieable]

What if I camp out where you're at? Macy's, you said? [there's no way Gintoki wants the whole place, right? they could be neighbors, surviving in numbers...]

[begrudge]

Isn't that how it goes? Presented with Akira's devastating sincerity and summarily shortchanged of any drunken revelry, Ryo's pulled himself from the broad strokes of an artifical high, met with the certain understanding that sitting amidst bottles of whiskey presents, in light of the mist and the contagion.

"Fighting whatever's out there is a lost cause," he says, voice bereft of ambiguity, "because we don't have any weapons, and we don't know what we're up against. We're operating only on what we saw. That's the truth. If anything breaks in, we're going to run."

His jaw works tonelessly around the words when his arm slips off Akira, and it isn't intimidation, but the sharp curve of fear rounding his breath, like the burn of liquid courage's attenuated for terror.

"What do you think we should do, Akira?"

[cowardice]

That's slightly more acceptable than trying to bomb a swarm of monsters to death, but only slightly. Maybe there's something they could've done to keep themselves out of this situation entirely, but if so, what?

They've already run out of options. Even Ryo knows that. Hiding from it with drugs, alcohol... Akira's beginning to wonder if Ryo handles all his problems this way.

Maybe, just maybe he needs to be the strong one here. Even a fool's got some baseless courage in him.

"You said it yourself, Ryo," Akira rises up on unstable footing and offers his hand to Ryo. "...Let's run. Right now. We shouldn't wait until those things are banging on our door."

But then again, how can he pretend he's some sort of hero when running is a coward's way out?

[a_shadow]

I would never turn down free food.

[ Free anything, really—if she doesn't have to spend her own money, then she's happy. Especially seeing as how she doesn't have money at all here.

She looks over the signboard above his head. ]

I'll take a garlic pretzel with cheese, I suppose.

[begrudge]

Technically, it's a tactical evasive maneuver, just like repurposing some car only to end up here, in this dilapidated church, with fog punched up against the glass, conspicuously thick, mist swarming the building on all sides. No need to remind him twice that he's the bearer of shitty ideas and a shittier ideology, scrunched down low in the pew, ruined by paranoia. Filling his throat up with alcoholic spirits is a bad substitute for the pestilential despair of it, fingers loosely flexing, in and out until their gazes hold.

"We can't— we can't be sure we saw anything out there to begin with. If there's really something in the fog... how much farther can we get without a car right now? Or any supplies?"

These things have to be handled slowly. Abruptly, Ryo hand snaps to attention, snaring his wrist by means of negotiation, diplomacy drummed down to nothing more than prolonging the inevitable.

"Let's keep looking around. There might be something we overlooked."

someone come claim this lost child

[squadgoals]

[She's still coming to a wobbly stop, Hollister "uniform" already mint and printed, complete with badge, when she catches Lavellan out of the corner of her eye. For a moment, she just stares, mouth agape, and then laughs—probably. It's more of a cough, a choking disbelief.]

Me too.

[Looking down, she seems to realize her new dress, and pulls at the fabric, the namebadge, shaking her head in a kind of disbelief, slowly rolling into disgust. Anger could come later—or maybe never.

What a couple of years.]

Any idea what's going on? [And before he can respond:] And you know I mean other than the vid.

[squadgoals]

Hold on.

[As soon as she sees him tottering in with the food, Shepard is already pulling out a stack of clothing from a shelf, shifting things around. Once Katsuya is near enough, she relieves him of his tasty burden, tucking it into the newly-emptied space—and obscuring it again, with the removed stacks.

Stepping back, she takes a moment to view the shelves, checking that things were hidden well—then nods, first at the hidey-hole, and then at Katsuya.]

That should do. [There's a pause when she locks on to his sunglasses, giving him the once-over—before she holds out a hand.]

Shepard. I'll take the items out of my salary.

no apologies only pure happiness

[squadgoals]

[Shepard only catches the woman wandering in out of the corner of her eye, scanning the merchandise with a bored look—or maybe bored was the wrong word. Frustrated? Disappointed? She could utterly sympathize.

But it's only when she arranges herself, asks if she needs any help, when the recognition clicks into place, a jolting transition into a memory of fire, fighting, and Ashley Williams giving an Alliance shuttle a stress test with her head. Eva Coré—or, more realistically, The Illusive Man's plant.

Whatever dump of adrenaline may be playing out under the surface, there's no trace of it outwardly. Conversely, there's a flit of a smile, less forced than the rest, and a another hand gesture to a line of short-sleeved tasseled dresses.]

We're having a thirty percent off sale on summer styles, today and tomorrow only.

gets back to this finally im so sorry;;;

[dabi]

[He's never really been good at things like casual conversation and the like. But that was in a world where he could honestly feel like he could trust only himself, in a place that viewed him as nothing but a criminal. Somehow, despite the horror show that this place was already proving itself to be--he's a little more blase with the idea of sharing words with a complete stranger.

After all, whatever's outside in the mist could break in and try to murder them at any time, right?

He gives a sideways little smirk at the other as he speaks. Listening with slightly piqued curiosity. Clearly, if this guy was used to shit like monsters that appeared in fog, the man can't be from the same place he was.

Interesting, really. It made the spools of his brain turn a little as he leans his head back, looking at the other a little like how a cat stares at something it's unsure of from a slightly higher position. Hm.]

Don't really like malls, on a good day. So I can't share that opinion. [He swirls his drink, bringing it up to his mouth again--but he doesn't take a drink. Instead, he squints at the other.]

Monsters appearing in fog isn't something normal, you know that, right? [Teeth click as they appear under damaged lips, and there's clearly something cheeky to his tone.]

Suspicious, you know, if you're used to it.

[Is he serious, or is he playing? It's pretty hard to tell when he has a face that's hard to read thanks to its disfigurement.]

takes a weekish to get to this because irl sucks

[dabi]

[He'll take a long moment to look this man over. He's seen him pass by, almost lazily, a few times. He hadn't thought much of him--about a much time as he's spent thinking on any of the people wandering aimlessly here, really--but now that the dark-haired man sits with him, he takes a serious moment to consider him.
The eyepatch, the snakelike gaze, and then the sound of his voice; dark, like tarnished silver but with an edge to it that could cut like a knife.

And it's what that voice suggests to him along with a raise of a glass that almost makes the hairs along the back of his neck tingle with an odd sort of anticipation. His fingers clench a little against his own glass, and where normally bright blue flames would flicker up, his finger merely clench. His teeth click as a small, but sly smile moves up burnt and held-together lips as he turns his head to look fully at this eyepatched man.]

Dangerous. [A single word is all he speaks at first, before raising his glass just a little--almost out of reach of Takasugi's own.] Are you asking a stranger to participate in public vandalism or something?

[His own voice is dull, like a fire that's on the verge of burning out--but despite his accusations, there's most definitely embers burning in those bright blue eyes of his. That smirk misplaced alongside words that suggests he's appalled at the idea of 'creating' their own distraction.]

You might be onto something.

takes a weekish to get to this because irl sucks

[dabi]

[His nose screws up in a bit of a sneer, when, of all people, some old guy answers his question. Badly, he might add. White hair, curled and in a messy style on top of his head. Eating a handful of what, candy? Must be nice, being able to snack constantly when you have dentures and not real teeth to worry abou--

...Ah, no. He blinks once, tired-looking eyes squinting at the man as he gets a better look at him than his first glance. Despite the pale hair and deep voice, this guy... wasn't actually as old as he'd thought. Pale hair like that, he supposed, could be related to a quirk, after all.

He tips his head forward, as if to get a better look at the man--his gaze looking a little bored as he examines what the hell the man was wearing. A yukata, in this day and age? Maybe he was into cosplay, he thinks for a moment, before he lets out a quiet, huffing laugh.A smirk that pulls at staples that appear to be holding his face together.]

If something like that 'got me going', I'd start to question myself pretty heavily, old man. [The drawl to his voice is apparently very purposeful on how he pulls on those last two words. Trying to get Gintoki's goat, apparently.]
So honestly, I'm still looking for a punchline.

Do you have one, then?

takes a weekish to get to this because irl sucks

[dabi]

[His gaze had been cemented on the ordeal in front of him. He hadn't given a true glance to exactly who had just witnessed that brutal murder alongside him, no. But it's the voice, the tone and tightness to it that first gets Dabi's attention. There's tension and something akin to hate in it, and that above all else, becomes a hell of a lot more interesting than some cleaved body of some nobody who idiotically ran into their own death.

His head turns, slowly and with purpose, to focus on Todoroki Shouto with a cold, quiet gaze. Ah, that's a look he recognised. As he's sure he was just on the other end of a very familar gaze from the youth's own father.

Adrenaline prickles at the base of his spine, crawling up it like a fervor of ants that had just caught scent of rotting fruit. It makes his teeth clench behind his lips and a fire start to burn in bright blue eyes as he forcibly relaxes his pose, letting his hands settle in the pockets of damaged, old slacks.]

A lot of things. [He begins, his tone quiet and almost mocking as his head tilts towards the other.] The Todoroki family are pretty prone to jumping into things over their heads, from what I've seen so far.

[avengeme]

One quick spin that trips him up and he recovers from later, he lets out a breath and returns the smile.

"Well, everyone has a role to play in an apocalypse," he says simply, reaching up to take the fedora off his head. He holds a hand out to her. "Charles Martin," he lies though he hates to do so in the face of who looks like Peggy Carter. He just hates the consequences more.

[avengeme]

Huh. He really didn't peg him for Japanese with the hair and eyes but, well, weirder things have happened since he woke up here.

"Oh. Silly me. It's the hair. We've always said you make a good couple." Sadly for Ginpachi-sensei, Coulson has no cash on him. "Isn't it too early in the day for drinking?"

[sanephiroth]

Sephiroth clicks his tongue as his victim is rescued, changing his focus to this masked and strangely-uniformed man.

"I know what a market is." Shinra has that at least. He doesn't bother asking what Heelys are. "And you don't determine what I can or cannot do." For one thing, he'd love to see Wade try. "Nobody does." Not anymore.

[generalstudies]

[His pride's already taken a few solid hits today but, hey, better not to kick him while he was down. It's reassuring to feel his feet against the ground with each step, like he actually had some strength left.]

That place... [he weakly gestures with his free hand. The gesture is not helpful.]

The one with the pretzels. [aka Auntie Anne's. He was so sick of looking at pretzels. Cinnamon pretzels, pretzel dogs, dipping sauce...]

[... for saying he felt sick, though, he actually felt less like he would vomit as they trudged back. His head was still spinning, it was still hard to focus, but he didn't feel that black ichor pushing at his throat anymore.]