logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: JULY

INTRO LOG: JULY

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: july 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. winters, will, and rastus introduce themselves and explain the situation.
warnings: n/a.

welcome to beacon.

It's dim, and the room won't stop swaying, gently rocking you back and forth. A loud sound startles you fully awake, a deep, moaning call: a foghorn. As your eyes adjust, you note faint red light streaking through the room from a tiny, round window.

You've found yourself in a private room, lying on a bed. The last things you remember are the events that led up to your death. Beside you is a folded tablet and a lantern that glows steadily with a healthy flame.

You're on a ship. And that ship is docking.

Making your way to the deck, and eventually the pier, you find only moonlight to greet you, and a dark forest beyond. There are other people here, each with their own unique lantern, and many of them look just as lost as you are. On the ferry you've just disembarked from, the speaker system begins to play a song.

In the distance, across the waters of the lake, you can see the tall silhouette of a lighthouse, its red light slowly turning.

•••
Winters and Will are waiting for you on the beach. Winters flags you down from where he's standing atop a large rock, surveying the gathering crowd. Will stands next to him, though he's monkeying with his tablet and looks rather bored. He barely looks up as Winters speaks:

"First thing's first: I'm sorry you're here. There's no easy way to break this news, so let's just get it over with, hm? You're dead. Or, ah, you've died. Call this the afterlife if you want, or don't if that ain't your thing, but point is, you're here 'cause you died. Those are the facts.

This world's dead, too. You've noticed by now it's pretty dark, yeah? That's 'cause there's no life here, not anymore. And that lantern you've got? That's your life, so to speak. The flame goes out, you die, and vice versa. Keep it close. Should be easy enough to remember on account of how the sun don't rise. You'll need something to see by.

This place is called Beacon, and that's Lake Red Jacket. Town's 'bout a mile down the road, and we've got a bonfire there, but that's the only other light you'll see in this place. Save for the moon and all, though the sky won't do you much good out in the woods. I'll let Rastus explain the bonfire to y'all.

Ah, right. I'm Ben Winters—Winters'll do—and this here's Will Ingr— What? For christ's sake, Dr. Will Ingram. Likes to think he's the brains of the operation, as you can see. If you've got questions about these tablets, he's your guy. Rastus tends to the fire, and you'll find him in town. He's married to his job in a way. And you may never've seen a person like him back wherever you came from, but don't make a big fuss over it. He's a nice fellow. Mind your manners.

The three of us are leftovers from past resets. We came here on that ferry just like you, but it's just us left now. 'Sides the Lighthouse Keeper, but it'll be a bit before you get to meet her. She's got control over the town, see, and if she ain't satisfied with a group's performance, they get the axe. Town gets reset. If she pulls a reset on you folks, a couple of you might end up like me and Will here, giving this speech to the next crop."

The red beam of the lighthouse pulses over the group, over the trees. Winters glances up to watch it swing out over the bay.

"But don't hold it against her. Ain't her fault we're in this mess, and we've all got a job to do, including you.

For now, concentrate on accepting your lot, yeah? We're here to answer your questions, but we ain't gonna tell you all there is to know just yet. Some things are best learned on your own, and some of it we just don't want to saddle you with yet. There's a limit to how long we can stay here safely, that's true, but thing is, we do got time. Time enough to play this smart. Do better than the folks before us did. Settle in, make peace, explore a bit if you're up for it. Use these first couple weeks to come to grips. You ain't gonna be any good to the town if you don't sort yourself out before worrying about what comes next.

So listen up: You're dead. You died. Whatever your old life was, it's done now. None of us can go back, so all we've got is forward. Welcome to Beacon. Could be worse, yeah?"

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, all three NPCs will be available for chatting with, whether your character wants to make casual conversation or ask questions about all this. The headers on each NPC toplevel are there for easy reference as to what each of them are responsible for, but you're welcome to go to any NPC for whatever reason. You're welcome to assume your character has overheard any NPC conversation to learn more about the game. After the NPC threads have died down, we'll compile the info learned ICly and add it to the game history page. If your character would contribute something specific to the game history records, let us know!

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

The monthly store restock

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[Ben Winters is a brick wall of a man, his tall frame made all that more imposing by the leather trench coat that hangs heavy on his shoulders. That said, he looks more frayed than unfriendly, like he'll be right as rain after a good night's sleep and a hot shower. He's got his lantern clipped to his gun holster. It looks more than a little worse for wear.

He can be found at the harbor, ready to answer your burning questions from where he welcomed you all to the town. After the initial rush has died down, he can be found at the bar in the Invincible or inside town hall, perusing the empty shelves.

Wherever you find him, he'll greet you with a nod and a handshake. His voice is weathered and much quieter now that he's not addressing a crowd. He's got a strange, unplaceable accent that sounds a bit like American, New Zealand, and South African all rolled into one.

And you might notice that he's missing the last two fingers on his left hand, and his right arm... Are those scales? Should you say something?]

Good to meet you. What's your name?

Edited 2019-07-01 09:06 (UTC)

[Will Ingram— sorry, Doctor Will Ingram, is a far less intimidating figure than his companion. Entirely human, he stands at a very average height, and probably a less-than-average weight. He looks rather more bookish than one might expect of a survivor, and the glasses don't exactly help. His lantern hangs from the belt of his surprisingly well-kept suit.

After Winters' thrilling speech, Will hangs around the beach/pier area for a while, open to being approached although he doesn't exactly look it, as his body posture tends toward closed-off. He spends most of his time tapping away at his tablet, interspersed with glances up toward the lighthouse.

If someone gets near enough though, he'll talk.

Later in the "day", he can be found taking up an entire table at the Invincible's bar, having covered it in tablets in varying stages of disrepair. Also empty coffee cups.

Once again, he'll speak if approached, though without looking up from his tinkering.]

Today's a freebie. You can ask whatever questions you want. I can't guarantee I'll answer, but you can ask. And if you're one of the old-world folks, I suppose I can assist you in figuring out how to use your device. If you ask nicely.

[His accent's hard to place, and his words are rather on the quiet side, practically dripping with disdain.]

[OOC: Leu here! I work until 5pm EST today, so replies from Will won't come immediately. You are still free to tag him, though!]

Edited 2019-07-02 06:07 (UTC)

[Winters did warn you that Rastus would perhaps look a little odd, but he failed to specify that Rastus is an arakkoa. A rather haggard one, at that. His feathers are a dull red, frayed at the edges with some bent at odd angles. He limps and drags his talons through the dirt as he paces in front of the bonfire, his lantern dangling from his staff. His lantern looks to be in pristine condition at least, even if the old bird is past his prime.

He greets you with a sort of guttural chirp, and launches into his spiel whether or not you were ready to listen. His voice is... maybe exactly what you'd expect from a humanoid bird.]

Craw. Rastus. My name is Rastus. I am the bonfire keeper. Hello. My job is to oversee. I watch the fire. It's not like fire you are used to. Watch. Watch.

[He hobbles into the firepit and lights a torch from the bonfire's flames. It catches, and nothing seems terribly special about it—until he uses that torch to light a second torch, that is. The first torch fizzles out as he lights the second, and then he passes the flame back again.]

Fire is light, and light is finite. Life, too. Only so much of it left in this place. Be careful. Be wise.

[He touches the two torches together again. This time, the fire seems to split in half, a dull flame burning on each torch. He holds it out in front of him to make sure you've seen, and then he dips the flames back into the bonfire. They drip back into the fire as the logs sizzle underneath.]

The lanterns. They are not like the bonfire. The bonfire is the bonfire, but your lantern is you. See? See.

[With one now-unlit torch, he prods at your lantern's flame. You might feel a strange tingling in your belly, or maybe a tugging in your throat, a cold spot in the small of your back, a prickle running up the back of your neck. In any case, the torch doesn't catch. Your lantern's light stays put where it is, unwavering.]

Do you understand? This is important. Crawk. You can die again here. You don't want to die again here.

You may take torches for the town. The bonfire is a resource. Use it. What good is all the light in one space? Hm? Ration the torches but take the torches. The bonfire is a gift. We must use the gift. I will give torches if you need torches. I keep the records.

[He nods like he's said all he has to say, but then:]

Mrawk. I can order things. I can get things for you. If you don't like the shops, I can get you things. Tell me what you need. I will try. Try. But some things have a price. I am not. Rrrk. What is the word?

[He pauses, tapping a talon against his beak.]

Ah. I am not a bird. Krrrick. I am Rastus. Hello.

[Hello indeed. Rastus is here to talk about the bonfire and special orders, but feel free to ask him about anything that crosses your mind. You can also assume he ICly explains everything on the item request page to your character without specifically needing to ask.]

Edited 2019-07-01 09:00 (UTC)

[In Mary's case, Rastus gets as far as messing with her lantern. And then she lets out a whimper, and then her eyes fill up with tears.]

I felt it...

[The shudder, the cold. She falls to her knees, emitting what appears to be a high-pitched whining noise.]

I don't want...I don't want it! No!

the safety of shoreline fading away; harbor & bonfire;

[It could be a great deal better, too, just saying. Like, on the scale of it could be, dying and then being forcibly revived in this Dante's allegory knockoff could have gone a whole lot better, but here they are, and there's no use in complaining.

Point in fact, the first thing Rosalind does when Winters' speech ends is look: look at the others there, rising on her toes to try and see through the sea of men that have gathered. Dark hair is fairly popular, and a great deal of them are of the stocky and tall variety, which is all well and good, but not what she's looking for. Even when people begin to disperse, she seems intent on finding someone-- and when she doesn't, she exhales slowly, her eyes narrowing.

Right.

A quick trip to the general store, and then Rosalind settles by the bonfire, a few materials laid out before her. Bits of fabric, a needle and thread, a new set of clothes that she changes into almost immediately . . . and some water she seems intent on getting to boil over the bonfire.]

What do you imagine they meant by reset? She can't precisely kill us, can she? So, [she says, because when is her talking to someone ever anything but an excuse for her to speak her own thoughts out loud,] it has to be a fate worse than that, yes? Something that Winters et all's cohorts suffered. Some final dismissal of spirit? Dying again, Rastus said . . . and for that matter--

[Hm. She slides a few fingers idly against her stomach, then glances up at whatever poor soul is sitting near her.]

Give me your hand.

you need to calm down; general store

[A day is a long time. By the end of it, she's gone in and out of the general store at least four times (if anyone is observant enough to notice). Maybe you're on her tail the next time she goes in. Maybe you really wanted to interact with those cute forest spirits, because you watched a lot of Miyazaki in your youth and this is what you've been waiting for.

If so: sorry.

Because the second Rosalind walks in, there's this great bit chittering noise, not so much panicked as quietly frantic, urgent little chirps and clicks-- and those shadowy figures behind the counter bolt, hustling towards the back, avoiding their latest customers' eyes in favor of getting the hell out of there. Only once they're away (which really isn't that far, you can still see them, they're still right there) do they turn around, staring warily at Rosalind.

She does not look amused.]

They were questions. Don't be overdramatic.

[She takes a deliberate step forward, and oh, no, they're moving again, hauling ass to get away from her, Ros what did you do--]

fantasy and microchips shooting from the hip; bar

[Is it still unhealthy to drink to excess if you're dead?

Let's find out!

No, she isn't drunk, not hideously so. But she is drinking, glass after glass of a dark red wine, sipping at them at a speed which suggests her survival depends on it. This is at least her fourth glass, and yet her hands are steady as she works.

You can catch her doing a few things: first, prying at her tablet. She works with the screen first, fingers flying over it before she decides manuel repair might be best. Is it a good idea to just pop open that thing and tinker with it? Maybe! Probably not!

Or maybe you catch her later, where it looks less like futzing and more like building: tools applied to bastardized survival equipment, a glass jug emptied out and a few white powders in it. That looks fun and safe!

Or perhaps you just see her doing the bottle trick. Or starting it, anyway: she fills a bottle halfway up with water, grips it tightly, and then glances up sharply. Does she catch your eye? Sorry, buddy, but you're getting beckoned over with the sort of expression that demands, not asks.

Whatever she's doing, she seems very fixated on it. Almost to the point of obsession, in fact: there's a frantic quality to the way her hands move, enough that she inevitably catches the eye of a few people. It's not that she's useless-- no, whatever she's doing is clearly working. But this isn't just idle futzing about.]

wildcard;

[Have something else in mind? Want to do another location? Hit me up at

kitnkat

[It's an act of will to keep silent until Rastus has said his peace, to keep her questions penned up behind her teeth to ask in an orderly fashion once he's done. Fortunately, it's a familiar one, and if there's one thing Antimony Price can be certain she has, it's willpower in spades.

She even manages to introduce herself first.]

Hello, Rastus. I'm Annie. What happens if we die again here?

[There's a slight hesitation before the 'again', like she's not really accepted that there was an initial death.]

The sway of the boat had been gentle. Comfortable enough. He kind of regrets stepping off onto the pier, but by the time he heads back to the harbor later, it's long gone. No chance of getting back on it now, it seems - but that open expanse of water is inviting all the same, just begging to be explored.

For the first hour or so he just sits by the fire. Smokes a cigarette once he learns how to light it off the lantern instead of his dead lighter. Makes idle conversation with a few people, feeling out who he's stuck with, but it's half-hearted. Up in the room in the inn he's claimed, he sets the snail phone with its little feathered cowl on the desk and crosses his fingers that it will snap out of its apparently still state - he did, right? - but instead it tips over as it slowly dries out and curls inward on itself.

For a while he lurks in his room at the inn, but it seems he's acquired some roommates despite not really wanting any. And they're all right, so he lets them be. Maybe it's good to have people around. Maybe solitude right now wouldn't do him any good. Much later, when sleep doesn't seem easy to come by, he heads down to the bar and indulges in another smoke. Sorry, what's a no smoking area? Never heard of it. But he's cleaned up, with new clothes that mostly fit, and he seems focused on his own reflection in his glass.

By the second day he's feeling a little bit more lively, and still completely determined to push aside everything he's been through recently by getting to work exploring. He can be found poking around whatever disused buildings he finds - the church, the town hall, the general store, the boathouse - as well as the edges of the forest, but he might only catch your attention when out of nowhere this 9-foot klutz tumbles down to the ground for no apparent reason, sending his lantern rolling with a clatter. "Shit-" he gasps as it finally stops, because wow. Yes, he heard the briefing, but will it really help him in the long run?

((I'm happy to match prose or action so reply as you like - and there are plenty of options in here but feel free to wildcard also!))

( gene stands off to one side, service cap in his hands havin' doffed it for politeness' sake. he don't make no move to speak or interrupt until will chances to speak to him, an' then he clears his throat. )

Thank you, sir. 'Preciate it.

( he slides his tablet on the table. it's still pristine, at least, a testament to how well gene treats that an' the rest of his equipment. )

Was just wonderin' if it had some manner of function that could turn, ah... ( how'd the commander put it? ) text on into speech? Or vice-versa, should there be a need?

( he's making light of it. near inconsequential. but truth is, he can't hardly read his way outta a paper bag or do much more'n sign his name, so. utility. he needs to be able to know what's goin' on so's to help as many folk as possible, an' if they only reach out via text he won't have the first clue. )

[Approaching, Mary purses her lips and stares as Will gives his ornery little speech. And then, instead of responding, she climbs across from him to stand on the chair at the other side of the table...and reaches for his empty coffee cups!

Then, wordlessly, she begins to build them into a house.]

[At first I was like, oh I can't do int they already met, but then no, I tagged him with another, different child. So here we are, this is a horribly written response wow okay.

Inside town hall, when he extends his hand toward her in greeting...she reaches out to take it. Of course, her hands are very small, so she grasps his fingers with both of them, then dips down into a curtsy.]

My name is Mary. How do you do?

I'm Daylight! [ day smiles, nervous but sincere as he gives a little wave to show he's friendly. ] It's nice to meet you, Mr. Winters.

[ daylight tries to be very careful as he slides into the stool next to the man. he's obviously checking to see if the rickety thing is going to hold his weight.

... judging by the creak, he's going to be careful and maybe not put his full weight on this thing. yeah. that's a good start. ]

Just wanted to say, um, thanks. For earlier, you know? When you taking the time to catch us up on... stuff. [ that's how he's going to address the whole 'we're all dead and in a very freak place' situation for the time being. ] It's really nice of you to do. Mr. Winters. So. Um. Yeah. Thank you.

[ not too long after he's done speaking, he'll be approached by this...lost, sassy child?? ]

I want to know everything you know about the resets. The Lighthouse Keeper, too.

[ hi, nice to meet you ]

Edited 2019-07-02 17:46 (UTC)

[ the man definitely stands out by how he's, in a way, the complete opposite of mr. winters.

daylight almost doesn't want to approach him - something about him reminds him of emergency aid, but grumpier and that says something - but he's got to get all his ducks in a row, so to speak. plus- he's the only one confirmed to have a doctor title so.

more aware of his height ever than before, daylight approaches the man and tries to look friendly as possible. which means a bright smile and wave, followed by his winglets wiggling behind him as if they, too, were greeting him. ]

Um... Dr. Ingram? I hope it's alright to ask if we can have a quick chat? [ he adds the magic words that usually gets anyone to at least acknowledge the potentials of a chat: ] It'll be quick, I swear, and oh!

[ before he forgets: ] I'm Daylight, by the way. You can call me 'Day' if you want.

( bill won't be approaching winters until he can speak to him alone. not interested in drawing too much attention to himself. he hasn't had the time to acquire a mask yet, but it can wait. after all, the meet and greet down at the harbor left more burning questions than they did answers. )

Billy. ( he gives his hand a firm shake as he takes a seat next to him at the bar. his face is marred with scars, clothes bloodied and strewn with bullet holes. doesn't leave much to the imagination on how he'd died. ) I wanted to ask you a couple of questions. ( excuse him if he just cuts right to the chase. ) The resets. What happens during one? I'm assuming they serve some kinda purpose.

( he is assuming this entire town serves some kinda purpose. )

What role are we expected to play here? ( he sounds almost incredulous. talk about life after death, right? )

just being neighborly;

( if you've claimed a room, you might find this fella knockin' at your door at some reasonable hour or other. he's balancin' a plate on one hand, enough food there for a couple folks or so. given the roommate situation, he ain't takin' any chances with folks bein' underfed. )

Hey, if'n you're hungry I got somethin' out here for you. I can leave it at the door if you ain't of a mind to open it.

( no hard feelin's one way or another, gene knows how it goes. everyone deals differently when death's abound, an' he won't take it the least personal if folk tell him to leave. )

jesus was a carpenter, wasn't he?

( gene can be found amidst a pile of broken-down dressers. he's bein' real careful-like as he takes them apart, an' any wood he thinks might be useful is consigned to a neat little pile of it. he's stripped to just a tank-top an' his usual jump pants for this an' is awful sweaty besides, a sure sign he's been at it a while.

if he knows your character, he'll give them a nod an' a polite greeting. if he don't, he'll do the same an' may ask their name. either way: )

Hey, if it ain't no trouble, y'mind holdin' this for me while I hammer this piece on down?

it's fun to stay at the y-m-c-a

( near first thing he'd done was set up a tent. you learn that the hard way, you dig in an' you hold onto hopin' that a shell ain't gonna blow your ass sideways. but, much as the soldierin' part of him wants to be out an' away from all the rest of the folks, he can't help but notice there's a need of him in the invincible, too.

he maintains the tent outta habit. place to go if he needs it, an' a shelter to anyone else who might be headin' out towards the woods. you can find him there without too much fuss, an' he'll greet your character peaceably enough. )

If you're goin' off into the woods, mind if I tag along?

( a gesture to his medic's bag, slung over one shoulder as explanation. he an' irwin are about equally as keen on lettin' folks go off alone, which is to say they ain't. )

ooc blurberoo

( I'm happy to continue any of my tdm threads, or to continue them over here if you'd like! i'm also chill handwaving out the rest if anyone would rather focus on newer things.

you can reach me on vitarays if that's more your speed for any plotting/shenanigans/etc. )

Edited 2019-07-02 18:52 (UTC)

GENERAL STORE;

[After she's, at least seemingly, gotten over the fact that she's dead, Mary can be found for awhile roaming around the general store. She...looks a little lost, and her face is twisted in a sad sort of desperation as she apparently realizes she's not going to find what she's hoping for.

If you aren't the type to approach a wandering child yourself, she'll be the one to initiate. Mary tugs on your sleeve (or your shirt or your pants if you don't have sleeves).]

I can't find anything for coloring...

THE INVINCIBLE;

[Apparently, Mary has decided that the decor here is much too lacking in the department of color! If you're still looking for a room and end up all the way down at 310, or perhaps simply want to get an idea of who's situated themselves where...or maybe you're even one of her own roommates, you can find her humming to herself as she sets a can of red paint down in front of the doorway. It takes her some fiddling, but she manages to get it open, and then, with the appropriate amount of childlike fervor, she dips her hands straight in.]

He-he!

[Giggling only stops her for a second before she slaps her hands onto the door.]

TOWN HALL;

[Or you may find that Mary has taken a keen interest of the Cocker Spaniel-headed individual. She rocks on her feet in front of it, humming as she takes it in. And then, as if she fully expects a response:]

What's your name?

[There, of course, is no response. Still, Mary is unfazed.]

It's okay, don't be shy! I'm very nice. We can be friends, too.

AROUND;

[At any given point, it's easy enough to find Mary wandering around the town. She's found for herself a sketchbook of sorts; it's meant likely to be a notebook for a survivalist, but she'll take what she can get. She also hasn't found any crayons, so while she waits to see if she can persuade Rastus to getting her some appropriate coloring supplies, she's still got that red paint bucket it one hand and her lantern in another. Where ever she sits, she fingerpaints, undoubtedly getting little smudges all over the place (including her own face) in her wake.

If she hasn't interacted with you yet, she'll be a little shy when approached, maybe a touch guarded, but that insecurity melts easily away and she'll ultimately give anyone a sweet smile.

Notably, of course, she stays away from the fire, deliberately avoiding it in a wide arc when at all possible. Other than that, anywhere's open game.]

Edited 2019-07-02 19:44 (UTC)

[ This is.... a lot. Once their new leaders - or perhaps guides would be a more appropriate term - had explained the situation, used the term reset, the eerie, inexplicable calm he had felt on the ferry transformed into cold, creeping dread, the kind one might feel upon discovering dead bodies with no cause of death in sight. The kind that he did feel when they discovered the bodies that alerted them to the machine gun nest that killed him. There's real danger here, too, it would seem.

The bonfire seems to be crucial to life here, so Irwin decides to speak to Rastus first. Multiple questions swarm his mind when the birdlike creature introduces himself - What happened to the people before us?--What did they do prior to being wiped off the slate?--How did you survive? - but he deems it best to just start by introducing himself. Like Winters said, they have time. ]

I'm Wade. Irwin Wade. It's nice to meet you.

[ And he means it. He's never seen anything like Rastus in his life, but he and the other two who spoke earlier seem to be genuinely benevolent. He pauses for a brief moment, taking stock of what's accompanied him to the afterlife and what hasn't - a quick job because aside from some cigarettes, a defunct lighter, and the dog tags around his neck he has nothing. Being that they can die a second time, apparently, and there's no telling how long it may take for the ferry to import something that isn't in the general store, he decides to ask his questions now. ]

What kind of medicine is there here - do you have penicillin? Sulfa? Morphine? ...And atabrine and quinine, if there's mosquitoes. [ He doesn't expect Rastus to know what any of these things are, seeing as he's clearly not from their world - but he doesn't want to insult him by automatically assuming he doesn't, either. ]

( well, he stopped by the general store for supplies. got a bag full of them now, including a change of clothes. so the next stop would be here. if there is any sign of surprise or bewilderment at the sight of rastus, it is hidden behind the diy mask he had managed to make for himself. #artsncrafts

anyway, he is gonna wait until he can speak to him alone before he asks the following question. )

What kinda weapons can I get a hold of here? Blades, guns, ammo...? ( worth a shot. )

( i ) gather one, gather all

⟪ No dawn again, not ever, she had wasted her final one on breaking her fast. Should have looked deeper into her flames, should have searched for daggers in her back instead of her champion. Look to Snow, the fires had said, agonisingly so. She'd wanted to see Stannis, Azor Ahai reborn. Now, she'd wanted a warning for what was to come for her.

She had missed it, that warning, and now there's thin holes in the back of her red, red robes, and bloodstains.

It's no matter. She had tried to see something in the flames earlier, and had instead spoken to some people, and now, there's no time to waste. Actually, there is nothing but time to waste for her now, and that forces her all the more to stay busy.

Right now, she's in The Invincible, and quickly decides that her first impulse had been correct – best stick to the 'church', as the temple here is called.

But waste not, want not. ⟫

We could share and share alike.

⟪ Yes, she's talking to you, and yes, what she wants are some of the cushions, blankets, curtains, fabric, whatever it is you have both discovered just now. ⟫

( ii ) touching base

⟪ Back to the church she goes, because it is a holy place, and holiness is all she has ever asked for, isn't it? It is as all the rest of it this place, as if it soaked up shadows and spits them out again piece by piece.

At any rate, this is where she will be busiest: she is carrying in whatever she took from The Invincible earlier, setting it up in one of the empty rooms after sweeping. Anyone passing the church might see the light of her lantern in one window, or find her kneeling by the candles, singing a prayer song in Asshai'i.

If you are less lucky, it might be her who approaches you, silent as a shadow, one feverishly warm hand resting on your shoulder. ⟫

Are you lost?

⟪ Her voice is warm, low, not ungentle, but her eyes are red and her dress is bloodstained – it all evens out, in the end. ⟫

Beautiful building, is it not?

( iii ) fire-bound

⟪ Even she runs out of things to do, and eventually, she has circled back to the bonfire, sitting by it, staring into the embers, into the flames. It doesn't matter if you join her or not, she'll ask the following: ⟫

In which shape did death come for you?

⟪ Maybe she'll hand you an apple, if you look particularly hungry or grief-stricken, but the question is always the same. It has ever been best to face matters, one cannot run from the truth anymore than one can outrun fate, or God, or blood. ⟫

( wildcard )

⟪ ooc: so, here's a small selection of prompts! if none of those work for you, please feel free to surprise me with something else! if you'd like to plot, you can hit me up at nehelenia or dm me on discord at dracula#1035 and we'll come up with something for our beans to do together!

anyway, i'm super looking forward to writing with all of you c: ⟫

Annie.

[She gives his hand a firm shake. The scales on his right arm don't go unnoticed, and oh, does she have questions about that, but she has had some manners drummed into her, and those say that kind of question isn't typically polite for a first meeting.

Besides, there are more pressing questions, like what exactly a reset means and how they're supposed to be prevented, and why the shelves in the town hall are all empty and nearly anything that might be considered a personal effect of the people who were apparently here before is gone.]

You said we all have a job to do, down on the beach. What did you mean by that, exactly?

▶ 01. BELLY UP TO THE BAR

( it's a bit strange, being dead. he would have thought he'd be hotter (literally, in this case) or surrounded by demons or laying on a bed made of skulls but apparently, his afterlife is a small, permanently dark town, a bar, and a drink of something amber.

it's not terrible, really. dying wasn't the best way to break the house arrest that he'd been stuck with for nearly a century but it was something. it was nice to be somewhere different even if it meant those witch hunters had gotten the best of him.

but, those are thoughts for later when he's alone. because those thoughts will inevitably lead to thoughts of the family left behind and the wonder if they're mourning him.

for now, he is going to drink. can you get drunk when you're dead? ambrose is going to find out. )

▶ 02. SHOP TILL YOU DROP

( ambrose finds that there isn't much to do in a small town that's dark all the time. maybe greendale wasn't the best place in the world to live what with being such a hot spot for strange and unusual activity but it did have an enjoyable night life.

what was ambrose doing right now to entertain himself? book shopping. he's not expecting to find any interesting grimoires but maybe he'll get lucky and find something interesting from the mundane world. )

Catcher in the Rye?

( even in the afterlife, that book persisted, didn't it? what an overrated piece of tripe. )

Maybe I can use it for kindling.

▶ 03. BEACH BLANKET BINGO

I will definitely not be getting a tan here.

( still, the fact that there is a beach is a nice touch. it would be idyllic if it weren't so dark and foreboding. ambrose spends some time looking out over the water, trying to spot points of light that might indicate life elsewhere but it's just all darkness.

eventually, he ends up laying down in the sand and peering up at the sky. the fingers of his right hand twist and turn, little streaks of illumination shooting up and tangling in the air, giving himself and anyone nearby a small fireworks display. )

At least that still works.

( he hadn't lost everything when he died. )

▶ 04. WILDCARD

( feel free to throw anything at me. hit me up at

spoonishly for plotting. )

[for all the lies, the manipulations, and everything else, her time with the kree had taught her one thing: patience. or, at the very least, some modicum of it.

it's enough to get her through the majority of rastus's spiel, which she pays as careful attention to as she can; intelligence is intelligence, after all, and she's in some serious short supply. there's useful information to be gained here — messing with the lantern makes weird things happen, there are ways to get supplies.

she takes mental notes as best she can, but it's a little difficult, because there's one piece of information that she keeps circling, over and over. you don't want to die again here.

at the end, there's a beat of silence. then:]

Is there a creepier ferry to an even creepier town if we die again, or is that just — it?

i;; this isn't fine. (harbour.)

[ first things first: this is definitely a lot to take in.

daylight has tried to find somewhere secluded enough for him to hunker down on the ground, hugging his legs to his chassis as he tries to- what is he trying to do? is he trying to ignore what's happening? is he hoping to wake up at any moment? he's not sure and he doesn't want to be sure, honestly, because the options he's thinking of are pretty selfish. people here are in need of help and he wants to think about his own concerns? you're better than that, day. you should be.

thankfully, daylight isn't going to be alone with his thoughts for too long. he's suddenly aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. he looks up to be sure and yep. someone is making their way to him. ]

Oh! Hi! Sorry! [ daylight ducks his helm, wiping at the corner of his optics. if one inspects him closely enough, they can see he's just wiping at his optics. there are no stray tears to clean up. no almost crying to stop. it's because daylight can't cry since he doesn't have tear ducts or anything close to that, but something about doing the motion helps calm him.

it certainly calms him enough to pull himself addressing, looking up again to address the person proper now. his smile is a little wobbly but he's doing his best to look friendly as possible. ] Um. Yeah? Do you need help with anything?

ii;; absolutely barbaric. (the invincible.)

[ after daylight has had time to, well, panic and more so, he tries his hardest to bounce back. he tells himself he has to bounce back. there's no use of moping at the pier and panicking over something he can't control. he's just gotta roll with it and see what he can do to help.

but he's got to settle down, first and foremost. he was told that the invincible is a place he can stay at if he wants but he's gotta be quick. they only have so many rooms and a lot more people than said rooms an accommodate.

so day quickly hurries down a hallway of the inn as a flurry of activity surrounds him as others, too, try to find a place to stay. deciding to do it randomly and hope for the best, day does a quick axel-wheel-tarmac pick and bursts into the first room he sees. ]

Dibs!!

[ ... aaaand someone is already in the room.

well now. this is embarrassing. ]

... Oops. [ daylight has the decency to look sheepish for his actions. he ends up shuffling where he stands as he rubs the back of his neck. ] Umm... I can see that this room is taken, huh?

iii;; he's got nothing in his pockets. (the general store.)

[ call daylight crazy but there's something cosy about the general store.

if someone asked him why he thought that, daylight wouldn't be able to answer them. he isn't sure what it is, really. there's just something about how there's so much stuff to browse through. signs of life and activity of this town. a sense of history that lets him know people have been here and tried to thrive, despite it all. it makes daylight feel lighter, in a way.

so despite the stares that he gets as he enters the building, he finds himself enjoying the time he's using to go through and poke at stuff. better to have company than no company in his opinion. it's why he doesn't mind when he catches the eye of someone else as he browses through some clothes that will not fit him in any way. in fact- he's pretty happy.

a chance to meet someone new! nice. ]

Can I get your opinion on something? [ this is when daylight rests a comically tiny hat on his helm, making sure it rested daintily on the crest that framed his face. he strikes a pose, making sure to be goofy as possible. ] What do you think? Does it bring out the blue of my optics?

iv;;; wildcard!!

[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. i'll match my thread partner's tags so if you want to do prose, feel free and i'll roll with it! ]

Nathan Drake, but Nate's fine.

[ He sought Winters out first. Seemed the right thing to do, given Nate's intimate history with exploration and how he'll inevitably be doing some of his own. The town hall is fairly empty thus far - he doesn't blame people for wanting to cluster where other people tend to cluster, i.e around alcohol - and locating a guy built like a brick shithouse isn't exactly hard to do. Being a brick shithouse himself, Nate can commiserate.

The handshake is firm, professional. ]

This might be a weird question, but, uh...how long would you estimate you've been here? 'Cause I've been someplace like this before.

» 001. FIRST DAY

[ all of this – the place, the people – is a little much for raylan to be taking in at once, so he sticks around wherever he is for quite a while before he moves somewhere else. his lantern doesn't look much like anyone else's, which is aggravating him, since it's the exact same as the horribly out-of-date lanterns that would hang from the ceilings back when he worked the mine. if it's some sort of cosmic joke, then he's not laughing.

the bonfire holds some interest to raylan for some time, a fire in a place that absorbs all other light. besides, it's warm, and he's not alone here; there are plenty of people to talk to. even if he's too mightily pissed off that he's here at all to be initiating any conversation, he cuts a pretty strong figure in his hat and cowboy boots.

later, he finds himself in the invincible, because of course he does. he'll be at the bar as long as he's able, skulling bourbons, mildly less peeved with some alcohol in him, enough that he might be inclined to joining a conversation, if not necessarily starting one. if you catch him in a good mood, though – probably shortly after a refill, he might be more prone to chat: ]

You think everyone around here oughta be taken on face-value? [ he glances over his shoulder, expression not incidentally suspicious. ] Seen some real unsavoury folks skulkin' around in the shadows.

» 002. SECOND DAY

[ apparently people around here don't necessarily need sleep, but raylan gets in a few hours anyway, to kick off his bourbon haze. waking up in the pitch-black is still horribly disconcerting, and he has no idea how long he's been out. picking up his lantern again to go downstairs is another moment of irritation that's set his face back into its ornery scowl.

as much as he'd been complaining of skulkers yesterday, he ends up doing a fair amount of it himself. his first order of business is checking out the general store, which reminds him to an unpleasant degree of mags bennett's store back in bennett county. he doesn't actually want anything from here, mostly he's just looking to say that he looked, so when your character drops whatever item they're thinking of picking up and it rolls against his boot, he doesn't stop before he bends down to pick it up and offer it back. ] Least it's intact. Although I admit I'm a little curious to see how those forest things would get across 'you break it, you buy it.'

[ otherwise, he'll be around, poking his head in various buildings including the church and the town hall. if he happens to walk in on a room that someone's taken for a living space, his brow furrows as he leans in the doorway, one hand on his hip. ] You know there's a whole inn back thataway, right?

» 003. WILDCARD & NOTE

[ feel free to grab him wherever, try to get into his and scarlett's bedroom, text him, push him into a puddle, knock his hat off his head, WHATEVER! i'm up for all of it!

here is the NOTE! ok, so: i really want to keep a bunch of tdm threads going, so if it's my turn on one of them then i'll go ahead and drop my tag in the replies to this post for specific folks! if we have a tdm thread and you want to handwave it rather than keep it going, that's totally fine by me – let me know in the discord or on plurk (

crowders)! i'm also absolutely open to multiple threads, if you want to tag in to one of these but i've shot you a tdm thread reply then PLEASE go ahead and do that!

one addendum – just because as far as i can remember i didn't have many threads with raylan as the victim in the chained-to-the-tree scenario from the TDM, i'm not really all that interested in keeping those game canon! but feel free to tag me elsewhere and we can get some cr going. also, if your character was the victim in that sitch, i'm definitely happy to keep that going! ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 124

INTRO LOG: JULY

Winters | NPC: explorations, general questions

Will Ingram | NPC: tablets, tech questions

Rastus | NPC: bonfire keeper, item requests

no subject

rosalind lutece; bioshock; ota

no subject

Rosinante Donquixote | One Piece

invincible go;

no subject

no subject

the invincible!

harbor

the pier!

no subject

gene hicks | ota!

Mary | Ib | ota

sir this is a mcdonalds not a cvs

no subject

melisandre 🏮 asoiaf / got

( i ) gather one, gather all

( ii ) touching base

( iii ) fire-bound

( wildcard )

town hall

ambrose spellman ( chilling adventures of sabrina ) ota

no subject

daylight vis lornlit. | original character.

no subject

raylan givens, justified.