INTRO LOG: AUGUST

[inthenightmods]

INTRO LOG: AUGUST
KANGAROO COURT

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: august 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. winters introduces himself and explains the situation. also, rats. :(
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.

•••
Maybe you already noticed them while the ship was still on the move. Or maybe you simply heard them, the sound of skittering claws, tiny squeals that sound more like high-pitched hoots. Whatever the case, they're impossible to miss as the ferry docks itself at Beacon's pier.

Rats. Huge ones, the size of small dogs, and tiny ones alike. They come boiling up out of the cargo hold the moment the boat stops moving, a tide of fur and teeth and nails. If you stay out of their way, they'll probably just run past you. But for those unfortunate enough to be in front of them, there's a lot of gnawing and clawing in your future.

The forest spirit rats seem hell-bent on getting off the ferry, but what they've left behind in the cargo hold is a bit of a mess. Crates and boxes have been chewed open and chewed into, as the horde of little beasties searched for anything they could eat. Did you ask Rastus for something edible? Unfortunately, it may have already served that purpose. And if you asked for something else, well, there's a chance it's still been nibbled on. It looks like the general store's supplies were hit the hardest, with about a third of them gone.

Oh, and you thought they were done? No ma'am.

The rats make a beeline for Bonfire Square, separating into smaller mobs to continue their endless quest for food. They slip through doors and windows, rummage through the bar, and generally make a complete nuisance of themselves. It's a plague of truly bubonic proportions, and it might be a good idea to do something about it. But be careful, if you try. Moving with the ravenous tide is a strange and twisted creature, each of its parts larger than the rats around it: the rat king, hungriest of them all. It moves as one unit of goat-sized animals, and it's quite aggressive.

Good luck!

•••
Winters is waiting for the new arrivals on the beach. He flags you down from where he's standing atop a large rock, surveying the gathering crowd. When everyone's made their way over, he 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 the folks that's already here explain how the bonfire works to y'all.

Ah, right. I'm Ben Winters—Winters'll do—and you'll find my, er, colleague Will in town. 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.

That said, I've got a bit of a plan in the works in terms of getting the Keeper back on the network. More on that in due time, but if you check your tablets, you'll find the network post I put up about it a few days back. If you feel like getting caught up on current events, you'll want to check the weekly bulletins in the post office and the records in town hall.

But most importantly, 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?"

Then he turns to address the group of old hats that have come to welcome the newbies.

"You lot have your bearings about you now, right? It won't do us no good moving forward if I'm always the one standing up here answering the questions. Give 'em the rundown, fill 'em in on what you've learned, and help 'em adjust to this place, yeah? Good luck."

With that, he hops down from his perch and heads back into town. You're more than welcome to talk to him or any of the other NPCs through their inboxes, though!

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, Winters will be around to give his spiel, but then he's heading back to town! It's up to the veteran residents to fill in the new folks.

And, um, better deal with that rat problem? The rats will indeed charge into town and cause quite the ruckus (Rastus can be found standing on a chair near the bonfire), but how much trouble they cause is up to you! Feel free to take creative liberties with these forest spirits, and for those of you with packages on the ferry, you're welcome to decide for yourself how damaged your presents may be. Any rats left in town will be driven out once the rain and storms begin on August 5.

Beyond that, please keep an eye out for an upcoming mod announcement, which will involve more housing options, a setting page/map update, a brand new game info page, and some other notes for the month. Stay tuned!

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

• The monthly store restock (though it looks like about a third of the food has been eaten by rats...)
  
• 5 cloth face masks for Coraline
  
• A very big pack of crayons for Mary
  
• A sword and sheath for Boromir
  
• A carton of cigarettes and an assortment of makeup (all the stuff he requested and a bit extra!) for Rosinante
  
• A shield, two hefty log books, and a set of paints for Elden
  
• Roughly a month's supply of the sulfa, penicillin, and morphine, a two month's supply of basic medicine and first aid supplies, and three cartons of cigarettes (Rastus did his best) for Wade
  
• A usb-based GPS tracker for Spiderman Who Is Definitely Not Peter Parker
  
• Two cans of paint, one white and one silver, for Scarlett
  
• Three different styles of wrist blades (seems like Rastus got confused and just wanted to cover all the bases) and ka-bar for Billy
  
• Leave-in conditioner, hair gel, a popsicle stick, a stuffed bird, a french press, a gun cleaning kit, 4 boxes of .45 bullets (though, upon further inspection, they're blanks!), and a literal potato sack full of espresso beans for Rafe
  
• Seven sets of rosary beads, one in each color of the rainbow, for Javert
  
• Six small bags of various blends of coffee (all of which will fit the description of Ebony brand coffee, even if it's not that exact brand) arranged neatly in a gift basket, as well as a flyer advertising a smalltown cafe's coffee flight with the words "Vote for your favorite!" for Noctis
  
• A variety pack of loose leaf tea and a tea set for Kuai
  
• 2 scimitars and sheaths for M.K.
  
• A sword, sheath, and set of knight's armor (it will fit her very well) for Brienne
  
• A set of throwing knives and a three-pack of fluorescent spray paint for Antimony
  
• A carton of cigarettes and just a shitload of wood, good luck getting it off the ferry, for Rosalind
  
• Five different star(?) shaped charms for "Dawn"
  
• A high quality fishing rod, line, and a tacklebox with a dozen various lures inside, as well as a giftbag that fits all of this for Ignis
  
• A shotgun, three boxes of ammo, a 4 inch iron knife, and a big honkin' Swiss army knife with a frankly cartoonish amount of stuff in it for Jo
  
• A Morse code chart, 10 fresh watermelons, 10 fresh fish, and a sign for Sora
  
• 5 boxes of .45 caliber bullets, 15 boxes of .45 caliber rubber bullets, 5 glock pistols, a big ol' pack of target practice silhouettes, and a wooden sign that reads "ROOTIN' TOOTIN' GUN RANGE", as well as an SD card (which will fit in Raylan's tablet) with a gun safety video from the 80s for Raylan
  
• 4 boxes of 9mm bullets, a handgun cleaning kit, a leather cord, a small jewelry cleaning kit, and two bags of M&Ms for Nate
  
• A small wooden box containing a collection of feathers, a trident, and a set of armor for Alexios
  
• A first aid kit fit for a school nurse, a set of craft paints and brushes, three medium-sized painting canvases, three sketchpads, an art supply kit, and a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle for Riku
  
• Two cartons of cigarettes and a, um, well, this for Gene
  
• A week's worth of clothing (in his size and #aesthetic) and a set of neckties, including this one, for Five

If you submitted an item request last month and we've missed it here, let us know!

QUICKNAV
comms	|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Comments

Xayah || League of Legends || ota

[featherknives]

[ooc: not-so-gently breaks the ice]
1. Boat Ride
[She was dead- plain and simple. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her as much as it did. Everything's she's been doing up until now is finally catching up to her. Is it fate, karma? Perhaps destiny. She hopes Rakan is alright... that scatter-bird-brain of a man. She rubs her nose with the back of her hand, staring at the murky waters as the boat gently sways. Her tall ears pick up at the skittering, but before she can focus on it-]

Ow-! Watch where you're going!

[-whoever you are, you stepped on her feathers. That cloak is not cloak.]

2. The Speech
What a load of bullshit, [Xayah mutters and tugs on her cowl, stalking past Winters and the group. She tucks her lantern under her cloak-wing and makes her way up the path and towards the bonfire. She doesn't want to hear a word what that man has to say. He's just trying to find and excuses Keeper for mass murder- two times already. She doesn't buy it. She also doesn't like anyone holding her, now second, life in their hands. Who is she to judge them and decide whether they are good or no?

She stops in front of the bonfire, wing folded over half of her, looking worn, yet still glistening in deep purple from the light of the fire. Tired... she's been sleeping on the boat and yet she still feels so worn out.]

What a load of bullshit... [she repeats, a bit quieter now. Climbing onto the nearby tree trunk, she crouches and hugs her knees, tall ears now flat. She pulls out a golden feather from inside of her cloak, and it instantly gleams so brightly in the light of the bonfire. Softly, Xayah's fingers trace the edges of it and she sniffs. This is nothing, don't cry, you've been through worse...]

3. Damn Rats!

[Sound of something sharp pierces the air and there's a loud screech that follows. Xayah's eyes are narrowed into slits as she stares down the rat she just killed- then throws out another of her sharp feathers and kills the beast before it can climb up someone's leg. Her lips twitch and there's a predatory glint in her eyes-]

Quit crying, it's just a feather. [The chuckle is bordering maniacal but is cut short when a river of them come rushing towards the bonfire. Okay, time to take out the big guns-] Let feathers fly!~

[Jumping in the air, with aid of her wing, she showers the rats below with blades If you're in her way- sorry not sorry, she'd rather not be eaten by rats. She lands on the ground and recalls her feathers, which pierce through few more rats, and they blend with her wing.]

By Vastaya, there are so many of them-! Hey, watch it! They are passing you by! [She yells at the person near her- she's not used to working with someone who isn't Rakan but- this is a special situation.

At least it's preventing you from thinking about her death and past life. For now.]

4. Text

if rats got you cornered tell me where you are
if rats didnt get you cornered come defend supplies

you snooze and you lose- food for entire month
i am a bird but i dont eat like one and id rather salvage whatever i can

5. Wildcard

[ooc: Anything else you want to thread can go here :) hit me up at windsongwitch if you want to plot and I can get us started]

[silvercrusader]

are you seriously three minutes in and already threatening to hoard the food? that's a dick move

3

[callada]

[Yeah, so there are rats, but Rosinante is more excited about his package off the ferry. So while she's working hard at skewering rats with feathers, he's just standing there taking his first deep, eager breaths of smoke. Oh, god, yes this is what he's needed.

So when initially she snaps at him as if asking for help dealing with the rats, he seems to have a delayed reaction. Did he even hear her? She might wonder for a second.]

Looks like you're doing a pretty good job dealing with them though, I have to say. Better than I could do.

[Okay, he could stomp on them. Could try to herd them. He's definitely going to try and persuade Rastus to give him a new pistol for the next ferry trip.]

( prompt iv. )

[mutterseelenallein]

I'm fine for the time being. They show no real interest in where the large bonfire is located.

I did notice that the rats are particularly drawn towards the general store and the inn establishment. Which makes sense. That's where most of the food would reasonably be.

4

[taintedone]

You are a bird?
A bird that speaks.

Scott Ryder | Mass Effect | ota

[casualryder]

O, Ratz!

[It's bad enough waking up confused along with a whole smorgasbord of fun emotions attached to said confusion — that was only magnified after an explanation as to what was actually happening — but to have to deal with giant rats on top of everything? Sucks. Majorly. Sure, Fiends were way bigger, and he's been picked up and tossed around by giant mechs, but rats. Really? He's grateful for his armor, which makes all the gnawing and biting far more bearable. It's the only positive thing he has to say about this situation thus far.

Not wanting to waste what little ammo he has, he has made the executive decision to stab any one of those giant rats that get too close with his sword, but leaves the ones who scurry on by alone. Granted, doing so with his lantern is far too awkward, making the 'stabbing' more of a 'slashing wildly at'.

It's when he sees the Rat King in the Bonfire Square that he has to stop and do a double take. How does this get increasingly more fucked up?]

Really?

Somewhere, anywhere

[Being dead must really take the sails out of a person, because he can't help but notice how drained he is. One biotic push on a giant rat left him winded already. He felt somewhat similarly in Hadriel but not quite to this extent.

In order to re-collect energy and to get away from the swarm of giant rats he decides to take shelter in the first place he can find, which he'll more than likely end up having to do more than once, if he can't shake this sluggish feeling weighing him down. But if there's an unlocked door he's rushing inside and heaving the world's most done with this shit sigh one could imagine.

Then he'll notice someone else is in here.]

Oh.

[Yeah, that's all he's got, sorry.]

The Wildest of Cards

[Or make up a prompt! Scott can be seen stabbing and slashing at any rats that are causing too much trouble to himself or other people who might have trouble fending them off. He'll just pop up out of nowhere and start-a-slashin'! Feel free to come up with any other prompt literally anywhere because tired or not Scott is exploring~.]

Somewhere, anywhere

[takeanyadvantage]

[Chloe on the other hand has no intention at all of dealing with giant bloody rats, so when she saw an entire little collection of them coming her way, she immediately popped into a hiding spot for the time being. It's not as if she has a gun or even a knife to her name, so hiding or climbing up high were her only options. She'll do the latter once the coast seems to be clear, but instead someone else comes barreling in.

She is currently on her tablet although not commenting on anything she's seen; only reading, memorizing, noting names and trying to get what research she can from it. Mostly, it's all madness. She scrambles to her feet the moment the door opens and raises her fists in an immediate defensive posture. Warily she gives the fellow a quick once over and narrows her eyes slightly before relaxing her stance.]

You ever heard of knocking? Giant mutant rats are no excuse to be rude. [She smiles wearily and tilts her head.] Joking.

jason todd | dc comics | ota

[mind_blown]

arrival: mask on

[what kind of person arrives, gives a spiel like that, and then fucks off? And worse, how can they be that wrong? because jason knows there's no way this is death. he watches impassively-- or maybe it seems impassive, thanks to the mask that he's wearing? actually, his whole red ensemble stands out.

as does his lack of reaction at the rats.

finally, he exhales.]

This is a mess I didn't need. [a glance at you, while he tries to appraise... do you believe they're dead?]

parkour: mask on

[when he thinks no one is looking, Jason neatly jumps up, grabs the edge of a roof, and swings himself up. looks like he's going on a little city (town?) exploration.

the ambiance is a little ruined by the lantern, with a small, red bat on it. but, hey, he's a brooding parkour boy.]

bonfire: mask off

[finally, if you've seen him at all today, he still stands out. Hard to maintain a secret identity when you've got one set of clothes, and it is so blaringly red. just this time, his mask is missing, though his hood is still over his face. he looks like he's almost trying to meditate?

but then a rat gets too close, and a sword seemingly appears from nowhere in his hand.

and then the rat is suddenly... headless. yep.

then the sword vanishes? interesting.]

parkour

[withsadness]

[As he's brooding on top of a roof, he'll suddenly hear the air cut through with a delighted squeal. It looks like someone was watching! Mary runs over and tries to jump up, too, but of course can't even get close to the roof.]

How did you do that? Me too, me too!

daylight vis lornlit. | original.

[sunborne]

i;; talk about a pickme up.

[ knowing that there were going to be new faces, daylight had decided to tag along and greet them. he distinctly remembers how it felt when he first arrived and he remembers how meeting a friendly face and having a normal chat had helped make the transition smoother.

what he didn't expect as he jogged towards the boat to give a friendly greeting is a stampede of rats. this sure escalated quickly- ]

Oh whoa! Hey- Watch out!

[ without thinking, daylight reaches down and scoops up one of the closest individuals next to him. he hefts them up and presses them to his chassis so they're not bowled over by the stampede of rats. thanks to his integrated armour and his impressive size, daylight is largely ignored by the rats besides a few accidental swipes as they make their way towards the town. whoa boy... that's gotta be addressed soon.

after he watches the hoard of rats run off into the night, his expression grim, daylight realises he's still holding the person in his arms. he has the deceny to look sheepish while setting them down. ]

... Sorry about that. I just- Um- [ his reasoning will probably sound silly if he says it aloud but it's the truth. here goes nothing: ] They looked dangerous. I wanted to protect you but, yeah, not cool.

ii;; some other human's skin.

[ in the midst of trying to deal with the swarm of rats, someone approaches you. it could be at the invincible. it could be at the church. it could even be at the bonfire square, as the fire merrily blazed away and the sound of rats, skittering and searching and scavenging, filled the air.

whoever this young man is, he's most definitely new. anyone who would be willing running around with a bomber jacket while wearing a pair of aviator shades in this perpetual night is going to stand out.

but he does his best to be friendly at the moment he seems- he smiles, clearly nervous but strangely sincere as he holds up a broom he must he swiped from the general store. ]

Hey- Do you need a hand? I can go chase those rats off while you focus on your getting your items for safekeeping. Thought you could use the hand.

[ for those who have met a certain hybrid, the young man would sound shockingly familiar in this moment. but if you haven't then he sounds like your typical young man in his late teens, at best. he seems to be sincere too so what's the worse that could happen if you accepted the otter...? ]

iii;; who you gonna call? (network option.)

Hey there! [ a voice speaks up from the network, coming from someone with the name @daylit.

is he contacting you on purpose? by accident? just messaging anyone and seeing who picks up? possibly yes for all. but that doesn't matter. not really. what matters is what he has to say: ]

Could you help me with something? I think I found something super freaky in my room at the Invincible!

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. ]

iii; @kingsknight

[broplaints]

[So he's at least 99.99% sure that this is a wrong number, but who is he to leave someone in distress?]

Yeah. I guess I could do that. Which room is it?

Chloe Frazer | Uncharted | OTA

[takeanyadvantage]

1. Get Me Off This Boat

One moment she was fighting Asav, and her attention got diverted out of concern for her partner, which in their business was what you might call a fatal mistake. It took many a life, and the next thing she knew she was flung off the side of the train. It was a very brutal darkness that met her. Only to wake up in this bizarre situation that felt more like a dream than anything else. After a wary wander around the ferry, she very quickly got off it the moment it docked, swinging herself over the side with the tablet and strange lantern in tow.

She is distracted by the sound on the speaker system. "Well that does sound like hell music," she murmurs. It is only her naturally paranoid instincts and quick reflexes that gets her to scramble back when she hears something scrambling with little claws behind her. This is not her first rodeo when it comes to creepy crawlys and especially not rodents but .... "Bloody hell." Those are not the average rat; Chloe backs up so quickly she backs right up into someone, nearly dropping her lantern but keeping a tight hold.

2. Uncharted People Like Rooftops BTW

Chloe has zero interest in any bloody rodents so after hearing the details from the fellow who she quickly decides is full of shit, she heads toward the nearest reasonably high building she can find. This might very well be her afterlife, and frankly if it is, it isn't that she thinks it's undeserving. A shady and dark place for a shady and dark life led. She grimly accepts the poetry of it, but her paranoia means she'll have to make her own mental map. Especially if there are dog sized rodents running about.

Climbing and adrenaline are a very brief balm to a troubled mind, and this is far from the first or last time she's had to climb carrying items as she goes. Experience and strength finds her all the right holds and hoists up until she finds herself on the roof. Dark hair is pulled out of its customary pony tail only to retie it; this is hardly the place to put anyone's hair down, thank you very much. Chloe stares out into the mostly gloom with only a few spots that provide any light as indicators and after a moment of glowering ... she just plops right down on the roof and lets out a deep breath she feels like she's been holding since she woke up on that bloody boat.


3. Wild card!

Chloe can be found in various spots in the village, keeping intentionally out of the way of any rats and mostly to lighted areas that appear safe for now. She isn't unfriendly and has a welcoming demeanor if someone wants to approach her, but otherwise seems very focused on getting the lay of the land.

2 YOU EXPECT ANYTHING LESS??????

[nonscriptum]

He saw the rats and decided he'd rather wait until the wave of them subsided - with an intimate knowledge of history one tends to worry about those kinds of things, and Nate is no exception - so the rooftops make for a decent enough vantage of the new people. More folks piling in, dealing with the same shit he's had for the last month. He doesn't envy them their ignorance, and they'll learn just like the rest of them did that this place could be worse.

Could be better, too.

"Oh, sorry," he says as he clambers over the eave, noting the silhouette at the other side of the sloped roof. He hoists himself up neatly and brushes the front of his pants off. "Didn't realize somebody else was up here."

Jean-Pierre Polnareff | Jojo's McFuckedup Adventures | OTA

[silvercrusader]

RATS!

[Hey! Fuck this!

That's more or less his opinion on everything, frankly, but especially the rats. Heaven's supposed to be about, like, rest, right? Or reward. One of those things, he's pretty sure, he hasn't been to church since he was a kid but he's almost positive it includes one of those things. Anyway, it doesn't include rats, disgusting and swarming and knocking at his boots, making him cry out in disgust and then hiss in pain because oh right he's still fucked up.

But here we are.

He makes his way off the boat with a limp, grimacing. The rats more or less ignore him, being much faster, and that's fine. It's not great, but whatever. The worse part comes when someone else is in trouble, because then he's gotta haul ass.

Maybe you're cornered by a rat. Maybe you're cornered by several rats. Maybe they've got you down on the ground and are biting your nose off right now, or maybe you just really, really hate a rat even if it's like ten feet away. Regardless!]

Chariot!

[A silver creature springs out of nowhere, sword drawn, yellow eyes gleaming as it stares down at the swarm of rats. Without another word Polnareff directs him forward, hand jerking in a sweeping motion-- and oh god there goes that sword, and it's really quite gross, the air is soon thick with blood and little rat corpses, oh, god, that's even more disgusting--

But it gets the job done, and Polnareff grins up at his rescue-ee. If it's a lady, he might even wink, ugh.]

Pretty good, right? Hey, maybe we oughta get out of here. And, uh, I mean, we really oughta get out of here, c'mon, they're definitely giving us funny looks--

[They are, is the thing. There's more and more rats stopping to stare at them, at the corpses, at the bloody massacre before them, and Chariot sweeps in front of his newest companion, radiating protectiveness.]

Text; @ lancelot

hey okay who is good with metal here

and/or making prostetics like did one of you do that in the last life

also have you seen either a young man named Abdul who looks like a know-it-all OR a japanese teenager named kakyoin, also a know-it-all, OR a piece of shit dog who responds to Iggy

any of those ring a bell

hey also as long as i got you all reading this who has some MUSIC because wow this place is pretty down huh the least we could do is get some music going

like even a boombox or something

madonna even i would happily listen to madonna's greatest hits or whatever

Aftermath;

[Once the rats are . . . slightly under control, or at least not actively swarming his boots, he finally makes his way to the general store. It's really, really hard to walk with part of your foot missing (not that anyone can see it, with his boots on), but if he wants to solve this problem, he's gonna have to try and find something. So! Prostetics! That's a thing, probably, here, although admittedly the forest spirits distract him at first. But then--]

Oye! Don't you have any hair gel?

[THIS HAIR STYLE DOES NOT MAINTAIN ITSELF??]

Wildcard;

[You know what to do; catch the man at the store or at the bar (you know he's gonna be drinking) or just walking around with that fucking hairstyle. Whatever!]

text; @kingsknight

[broplaints]

I know an Iggy
But I'm pretty sure we're not thinking of the same one

yaeris áine ☾ original

[boneash]

( ☾ 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 )

 ⟢ the first gift she has been given was her husband, alive, even in this odd place of death, and it is not what she meant to achieve, but what she wanted most of all was a reunion. that’s a thing with magic, she thinks to herself: one needs to keep the intention crisp and clean, or else one might get exactly what one wants. now their daughter is alone with xenech when she’d meant to give her back her father –– but even that can be a blessing, can it not? her brother will raise her with all the dedication in the world, teach her the ways of the witchery.

for the moment, she is seated a little aside from the bonfire, on a low branch of a tree. she’s covered in blood still, her own blood, shining bright and fresh on her white dress, and she’s busy with gift number two: the strange contraption. ‘tablet’, someone had called it, and she had seen others use it for communication, but somehow, it remains sealed to her. it seems to want her to do something, but she has no clue what – and she’s getting increasingly frustrated, shaking it, tapping against the casing, crooking her head.  ⟣ 

Is asking for runes of a kind, isn’t it?

---

( ☾ 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒖𝒑 )

 ⟢ her hood is still pure white, thankfully, luckily, but her dress proper is ruined for the time being, and she is looking for a replacement. preferably something in white? she is digging through the thrifting-like selection of clothing, coming up with an armful of things ––

one pair of pants is being torn at by a rat.

for a moment, she looks at the sizeable creature, then nature overcomes her and she bares her teeth at it, hissing.

when she notices she’s being watched, she’ll aim for an apologetic smile. ⟣

Pesky creature.

 ⟢ wait, while you are here–– she holds up one of the items of clothing with a questioning look.  ⟣

Tell me, what manner of animal is this made of?

 ⟢ it’s a jacket. a jeans jacket.  ⟣

---

( 🔒𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 )

 ⟢ their reunion on the ferry had been passionate, and hurried, and desperate. if they could be so swiftly united, who could tell how easily they might be torn apart again? yaeris feared more than anything the idea that this was merely transit, that the ship would pause on one dock for him and one for her. that she might wake as though from a dream, by their daughter’s uneven sleep, by her brother’s gentle hand.

it is no dream, though. and they share a destination.

truth be told, she pays little attention to the rats, the cause of her death, the other arrivals, winters, anything or anyone. what do they matter, what does this matter, if she can gaze into ahvenrel’s eyes again, hold him, touch him, be with him?

how treacherous, how much a lie had her wish been? has she ever wanted to bring him back to life, or had she hoped to simply be with him once more? it’s too weak a thought to consider. ⟣ 

Something is changed.

 ⟢ she says it soft and with affection as she draws him into the forest, away from all the rest, all the noise, and the fire.  ⟣

---

( ☾ 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅 )

 ⟢ surprise me! she’ll go explore just about every building in the days to come, since they still kind of trip her up. she can also be found scaling trees in the forest! if you would like to plot for something specific, hit me up on plurk at nehelenia or on discord at dracula#1035. ⟣ 

dress up;

[silvercrusader]

[Listen, he's a good man, but there's only so far one can be pushed. Especially from someone who just a hissed a rat into submission, like, good lord.]

Snipe.

[It's an instant answer.]

Snipicus . . . Andronymous. You ever heard of it?

ben hargreeves | the umbrella academy

[materialise]

AW, RATS

[ after his less-than-spectacular reunion with five, ben has decided to take a walk and explore beacon. he unsurprisingly isn't in the most chipper mood, but he did sort of drop a huge bomb on his brother. fortunately for him, he won't have time to feel too distraught about it because he will very quickly remember the dog-sized rodents that fled the ferry he'd arrived on. they're now infesting the town which is... probably a bad thing.

so since five needs space and six has nothing better to do, he is gonna help with the rat problem!! at least as best as he can.

setting out to the general store first, he plans to stock up on supplies, maybe pick out some clothes and attempt to protect the food from the rodents. it seems his current choice of weapon for this mission is a broom. it's not going great. ever tried to sweep aside dog-sized rats? he can tell you it's harder than it looks.

but no worries! he'll probably be fine. although, they have cornered him, so maybe a little help would be fantastic? ]

AW NO, MORE RATS

[ he didn't have as much time on his hands back in the general store, but now that he is out of there and his brother is still AWOL, ben will be busy setting up traps for the rodents. he is pretty crafty using nets and other more lethal means to get rid of them.

in fact, it looks like everything is going smoothly for him in his little corner of the town when—

wait, what the hell is that? it looks like six has met the king rat. if he wasn't used to having eldritch tentacle monsters come out from his stomach, he would be more grossed out. it's a good thing he is up in a tree right now, finishing up the final touches to his net trap.

now, he just needs to wait and see if the rat will fall for the bait — a small pile of fruits. the net is big enough to capture a large animal, so a goat-sized mass of rodents should be fine, right? hopefully, nobody decides to step into the mass of leaves on the ground instead. ]

AWH... A PET RAT?

[ honestly, ben is pretty tired from fighting the rat infestation. he also may or may not have forgotten that his body needs basic things like food, water and rest now, so once his stomach starts grumbling and he can feel that once familiar pang of hunger, he decides to give himself a well-deserved break.

it's a little weird eating again, but he is very excited about it. so, don't mind if he looks a little too happy tasting a slice of bread or biting into an apple.

it seems his taste test has attracted one of the rodents though. since he figures he has had enough strife with them, six breaks off a piece of his bread and offers it to the rat. it won't be long before he gets a new friend out of it. whether you catch him eating with the rodent or suddenly walking around town with it, he will assure you that it's kind of(?) friendly, so please don't hurt it. after all, the number of rats have dwindled significantly by now.

what is the harm of letting one or two go? ]

WILDCARD

[ ooc; wanna do something else? go right ahead! i'm open to both logs and network stuff. if you have any comments or questions, don't hesitate to shoot me a pm. ]

pet rat pet rat pet rat

[withsadness]

[When Mary sees an unfamiliar face feeding a rat, she can't help but wander over, her mouth agape in her excitement.]

You made it your friend? I want to make one my friend, too! That's so amazing!

Mary | Ib

[withsadness]

[During this entire debacle, anyone can see Mary running around like a crazed...well, like she's part of the rat pack, honestly. It's probably fine, she seems like she's having fun. Except, uh, as soon as she catches sight of the Rat King? She absolutely makes a beeline straight for His Majesty.]

WAIT, COME BACK! LET'S BE FRIENDS!

[callada]

Mary, no-!

[Well, who knows if she'll listen, but Rosinante spots her and just reaches for her at a distance as if his long arms could actually grab her from twenty feet away. The look of horror on his face says everything, really.]

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret | Final Fantasy XV | ota

[luxoraculi]

[ A - Boats/rats ]

[ Lunafreya Nox Fleuret is no fool. The moment she awakened, when her eyes adjusted and she sat up, she knew that she was no long among the living. How could she be, with her duty and destiny fulfilled? She's still in the dress she was wearing when she died; damp with seawater, torn in various places and the front stained a dark crimson where Ardyn's knife had slid into her stomach.

At some point she'd made her way up onto the deck, ignoring the chill she feels in the air. At least her wounds don't hurt so much anymore, and she can be thankful that she'd finished what she'd started. The only problem here, is that she'd only semi finished, really. She's not supposed to be in any sort of afterlife yet, not when even in death she's got things to do.

Lunafreya can be found leaning against one of the rails and looking out into the water, though her lips pull into a slight frown as she looks down when something scatters over a heeled foot. ]

Even here, there are rats... how strange.

[ She's not particularly looking at whom she is speaking to, whomever you may be, instead focusing her gaze back out onto the dark waters. ]

[ B - Disembarking ]

[ Even in death, Lunafreya refuses to fall behind. She absorbs all of the information thrown at her and all of the other new arrivals, and while she is glad for it, it does little to comfort her and she's left with more questions than answers. If one is already dead, how do they die again? Where do people who die in death go?

This is all a little overwhelming, to say the least. She's tired from the fight at home and the trip, she's mourning both love and friendship lost, and this is all very confusing.

As some of the earlier 'residents' begin to arrive, she glances out and over at the group, trying to make out any familiar faces. Her mother, specifically. If there is any consolation in any of this, it is getting to see her mother again. How long has it been since she's heard her mother's sweet voice, or shared an embrace? Twelve years is a long time, and yet she's certain that she'd be welcomed into her arms all the same.

Except, as she scans the growing crowd, she doesn't see her mother, and a pang of slight disappointment hits her. She doesn't let it show on her face, though, of course. She tried to be as dignified as possible in life, and she will carry that over in death, too. ]

[ C - Rats; take two ]

[ Luna likes animals as much as the next person, even rats. But these things are just hell bent on eating and destroying. There's only a slight bit of guilt as she manages to slam her Trident through one. Even if they are a nuisance, she doesn't want them to suffer, and she is striving to make quick work of those around her as well.

Glancing over to the nearest person to her, she sighs. ]

Have you ever seen anything quite like this before? I must admit, this is... a first for me.

[ At least, with these little things. Daemons are one thing, but this is death. She pauses as she looks over towards where the Bonfire is, and she squints as she sees the... Rat King, and her shoulders visibly fall. ]

Are we going to make an attempt to deal with that as well, then?

[ C - Wildcard ]

[ Got anything else you want to do that I don't have listed? Go for it! ]

B

[broplaints]

[Noctis wasn't there to greet the new arrivals. No, Noctis was there because with the ferry came the items that Rastus had managed to procure for them. And because you had to be up pretty early in the morning to beat Ignis Scientia to anything, and he dearly wanted the fact that he had asked Rastus to attempt to find Ebony a secret. Besides, Will had told him that it was an oddity for there to be so many from one world - not that he had ever considered three to be many, but who was he to argue? Although last time he tried it had gotten them a sudoku game, so maybe it wasn't completely pointless.

The point of all of this is; Noctis wasn't on the docks because he somehow expected another from his world to suddenly appear. Luna had perished along side him, and chances were if she were going to arrive, she would have done so with the rest of them. Gladio was too stubborn to die, he was certain of it. And Cor? Cor would probably outlive all of them.

His attention wasn't on the passengers that descended from the the ferry, or their confused and troubled faces. He knew the speech that was being given. He'd heard it already. He didn't need to hear it again. He was just hear to collect the coffee and go.

Collect the coffee and go.

But that wasn't to be. Because fate always had such different plans for him then the ones he intended for himself. At first all he catches is a blur of white and he doesn't think much of it. Other people wore white. Next it was the blond hair, flowing down around her shoulders. But still it couldn't be. Other people wore white and had blond hair.

Other people had stunning blue eyes that he remembered even in his dreams. Even in his nightmares. And he almost drops the gift basket of coffee and his lantern along with it when he realizes that this isn't someone else. No one else had those eyes.

There's a crowd now, and he does his best to attempt to blend into it. To move through it, until he's close enough to see. Close enough to know. And when he speaks her name it's soft, like a prayer whispered up to the heavens in the still of night.]

Luna. [But he does not reach for her. Because how many times had he done so in his dreams and never quite manged? Never quite got close enough? Maybe if he just didn't try this one would last and he would actually be able to talk to her.]

clarke griffin | the 100 | cw: mentions of suicide

[colonists]

i - boat.

[ she lurches up suddenly awake in her bed, gasping and shouting - the roar of the explosion still ringing in her ear, just below where the gun had discharged - and falls, flailing dramatically, right off of the bed onto the wood floor.

it takes her a good moment to get her bearings, to touch the side of her temple where the barrel had nudged against it, to find...partially-dried black blood, lots of it, but curiously no entrance wound.

to herself, she whispers in a shudder: ] You've done it, you idiot.

And now you're dead. [ and on a ferry boat headed to the proverbial underworld no doubt, by the sound and gently rocking feel of it. ]

ii - pier.

[ clarke staggers her way out of the ship's quarters, loosely clutching the lantern in one hand and the tablet in the other, and down the deck to where the ferry's docked; the town ahead is dark, barely lit by the moon and shrouded by the black forest beyond it. the music that's blaring over a loudspeaker is not quite what she would've expected from some sort of afterlife, with a synthesizer beat better suited for a dance floor. it all feels extremely surreal, made more so by the fact that she's covered in her own tar-black blood, matted into her hair on both sides of her head and dried down the side of her neck.

dazedly she shuffles to the edge of the pier, and stops to look out at the dark town beyond. behind her there's a flurry of a stampede, the tiny patters of claws clacking on the wooden pier - a horde of rats make their way scampering out from the ferry, presumably from the cargo hold, and fan out in every direction as they run into the night. clarke can only squint in confusion, barely flinching as they run past her boots.

this can't be the afterlife. ] ...What the hell is this.

iii - rats.

[ having heard the welcome from winters, clarke is adjusting to this new normal; she's dead but somehow not dead, thanks to both this little flickering of light inside her lantern as well as the bonfire in the square, and that there's a lighthouse keeper who's in charge of it all and who can 'reset' the town anytime she feels necessary.

clarke is accepting all of this new information about as well as she can. which is to say, she's about to make a trek to go see this lighthouse keeper for herself, to have her answer some questions. but before she can even formulate a plan to do so, the swarm of rats she'd seen exiting the ferry boat descend on the bonfire square, overrunning everything in their efforts to find food. they burrow and gnash their way into every single structure in the square, destroying as they go, and it occurs to her that if she's going to be staying in this place for a while, it'll be less than desirable to have a pack of rodents demolish it.

she starts trying to herd as many of the smaller ones out as she can, kicking and nudging with her boots, but it's when she sees the writhing, pulsing mass of rodents - something out of an eldritch horror b-movie she'd watched on the ark, as a kid - that seems to be moving as a single creature, that she takes out her handgun.

and loads the magazine expertly, preparing to shoot it. it would be a shame to waste the ammo, but this creature looks like it might be worth the expense. ]

iv - wildcard!!

[ feel free to find clarke anywhere in beacon for now - traipsing with her lantern through the forest, bonfire square, the general store! hmu @ spinebarrel to plot if necessary. ]

pier

[fogey]

You aren't too far off the mark.

[ hell, that is.

another thing that's weird: the sight of five, probably, ostensibly thirteen but with the expression and bearing of an older man. he'd come when he heard word of the ferry, and stands nearby with his hands in his pockets, wearing scuffed up but undeniably fussy clothes. his eyes linger on the dark blood matting down her hair -- the color's hard to make out in the darkness, but the way it's dried gives him some ideas about how she died.

and she's a kid, too, jesus. ]

Welcome to Beacon.

[ all of which might seem more dramatic™ if a particularly large rat didn't, at that moment, bowl him over.

he swears, vanishes in a ripple in reality, and reappears standing a foot away. god. ]

eleven | stranger things | ota

[telepathos]

boat, beach, and beyond

[ She'd been screaming. Screaming, eyes black, dark blood streaming from her nose as she stared down the rift and used every ounce of herself to seal it. El remembers knowing, somehow, that she'd succeeded, that the Mind Flayer's forces were safely locked away again behind a gate she'd slammed shut.

She remembers...not much, after that. It'd felt like...sleeping. Drifting off into an inky, black abyss, and then waking up to a gentle rocking. Dazed, she rises to a sitting position, blinking and rubbing her eyes. Her mind is slow to catch up to her body, so her gaze drifts to the lonely window and its red light, staring a while before her brain starts to process physical sensations.

She'd been...dead. Now? Alive...?

Brows twitch in growing confusion as she notices the items nearby: the tablet and lantern. She pays them no mind, thinking that the light might be a dangerous beacon in a place that may not be safe, and so instead she starts to pad along the boat's interior and out of the ferry without either item. She moves as quietly as she can, nearly holding her breath as she tries to sense the presence of others.

She doesn't have to try hard. There are people ahead, on the shore, and many of them hold lights. El relaxes, but only somewhat, before moving cautiously forward. The girl trains her eyes on the figures ahead, though they don't pay her much mind, and she's in the process of trying to make sense of...any of this when she hears a man speaking in a loud, clear voice to the crowd in front of him:

"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."

Oops. El blinks again and retreats, slipping back onto the ferry to snatch up the lantern - and the tablet, for good measure - before returning to the outskirts of the crowds to hear the rest of what this man has to say. Much of it is confusing, almost nonsensical, and she feels anxiety budding in the pit of her stomach.

"You're dead. You died. Whatever your old life was, it's done now. None of us can go back..." ]

Dead? [ It's the first word she speaks in this world. It's quiet, not asked of anyone in particular. El remembers her last moments in Hawkins again, of the people who'd been there with her. It's deeply upsetting to be told that those people are gone gone, but she knows she can't just give up now. Can't sit on the beach in this dark place and wait for...whatever's next.

They wouldn't want that. Her friends...wouldn't want that.


It isn't long after Winters retreats and the lantern-bearing citizens start mingling that El takes off, moving toward the bonfire. She hears the sounds of scuttling, squeaking, rustling - and then one of the rats shoots out of the shadows nearby toward the tents that surround the bonfire. Startled, and seeing the first apparent threat since she'd arrived, El reacts on instinct. She flings out an arm and sends the forest spirit careening through the air and into the bonfire itself, which burps out dark swirls amid its golden streaks.

She collects herself with deep breaths and trembling hands, but no more rats appear...at the moment. ]

[rehabbed]

[ It's impossible to really say how long Jesse has been in this place — or, better yet, how much time has passed back in his world since the trigger that was pulled against his head blew his brains out. Time doesn't matter when you're dead, and time loses all meaning when it is endlessly dark. But enough time has passed for Jesse to know this place has all kinds of untold horrors lurking in places unseen. For that, he is down at the bonfire, being of whatever assistance he can be to these new arrivals. The kids, especially. God, it makes his stomach twist in the worst ways possible at seeing kids here.

He's off to the side of the bonfire, clutching his lantern, deciding to approach this girl here when he hears... Jesus, what is that sound? A strange squeaking in the distance, at first, which grows louder and more menacing the nearer it grows, and when he sees the first burst of rodents plunging out from within the trees, Jesse's eyes widen in bewildered alarm. And then he's running, towards the girl, because kids are always Jesse's first priority in the presence of danger. He's running, trying to beat the swarm of rats to grab the girl, and then suddenly—

It's like some invisible force slammed something rock-solid against his chest. He, along with a torrent of rats, goes flinging into the air like a rag doll, limbs flailing, lantern flung off to the side from the trajectory. His body arcs away from the girl, and he lands with a heavy skidding thud to the ground, chin scraping along the dirt, chest winded upon impact. And then, the horrifying swarm of rodents swallowing him up as they run over him, which has Jesse scrambling to sit up, half shrieking, half dazed. Panicked noises pant out of him as he tries to slap away rats while also trying to stagger to his feet. What the fuck just happened? One second, he was running towards that girl, and the next—? ]

Cao Pi | Warriors Orochi | OTA!

[pure_havoc]

A. Rat Fights

[Cao Pi is strolling somewhat listlessly through the Bonfire Square when it happens. A shadowy flood of vermin, looking like they mean business. There's no time to stand around gawking or asking others what could be happening, he just whips out both swords and starts hacking. Fortunately, it looks like others are also intent on the same plan, so eventually he sidles up alongside whoever else might be swinging a weapon or blasting away with magic.]

Where did they come from?

[if you were on the ferry, perhaps could you enlighten him?]

B. Lakeshore

[whenever the rat problem is finally dealt with, Cao Pi guesses that the supplies for the general store aren't just going to magic themselves up into the town. But, he's still hesitant to get his own noble hands dirty if he doesn't have to...if there's someone else to convince to do it. So he hangs around looking through everything as if taking inventory, doing the hard thinking work instead of backbreaking hauling work.]

So. It looks like Rastus is as good as his word.

[he is extremely interested in all those personal packages, even if they're a bit nibbled. Good time and place to see who ordered what! And if you're looking for something, he might have seen it in the pile.]

C. Wildcard

[where do you want to run into him? In the bar? In the store? At the bonfire? At his currently solo room because you need a room and there's limited space? He's available to be convinced to take on a roommate...keyword convinced.]

lakeshore

[mind_blown]

[honestly, he's interested too. there are quite a few... missing creature comforts. and Jason's not stupid enough to think he can rough it for more than maybe a week on his own.]

He's the one that brought the stuff?

[he's got his mask tucked away, and his hood down... for once. it's relatively easy to see his face.]

That's generous of him. What's the catch?

daniel riordan | original character

[freely]

the ship.
[ The ground underneath his feet creaks softly. Daniel stands on the deck of the ship, looking out at inky night and grey skies. How strange it is, he thinks, that life continues on in the after. How strange it is to die, to end, and return to the soil and the mud and the earth, and still be yourself. Blood and bone, but not dust. Not yet.

He makes a non-descript, if dark, figure. The wind cards through his hair, and the collar of his navy peacoat is turned up against the light seabreezes. The humidity, apparently, isn't much of an issue. Daniel stays like that for a long time, just watching the shoreline come closer and closer. His lantern stays at his feet -- as does, strangely enough, a potted mint plant.

The red light slowly turns. Daniel's hand lifts to rub idly at the base of his throat.

It's evident enough that he's having a moment to reflect, but it's also evident that it's not what nature plans for him. The mint plant at his feet suddenly starts to grow, extending a long, green tendril out. Not towards him -- but towards you, moving slowly so as not to startle, slithering across the deck floor and curling gently around your ankle.

It wants your attention. It obviously wants you to move, too, but it's such a tiny thing. Come closer, it seems to say. Will you follow me back? ]


the harbor.
[ Daniel makes an odd, lanky sort of shape. He has his hands bizarrely full, too, the moment he steps off the boat. Tucked under one arm is that same, leafy mint plant in the same, clay pot; in his other hand is his lantern, guiding his way as he steps foot on the ground. He stops, a couple paces to the right of the pier, and puts down his lantern. And then his plant. And then--

--scoops out a rat from a coat pocket. One of the tiny ones, squeaking and struggling to bite at his hands. Daniel's grip is firm -- familiar with a wild animal -- and he simply blinks down at it. His mouth curves a little, half-amused. ]

Now, [ he says aloud. ] What are we going to do with you, hm?


the speech.
[ This world's dead, too.

Whatever your old life was, it's done now.

None of us can go back.

As speeches go, he's heard worse. Daniel himself doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to do anything. He's content to sit there and watch as people mill around, or look lost, or ask questions. The waves crash gently on the shoreline, and inevitably, Daniel himself joins the march of people returning to town.

He falls into step beside you like he's been there all along. There's an ease to his shoulders when he speaks, plant tucked under one arm, lantern held aloft to illuminate the way in front of him. ]

Hello. [ That's it. That's the introduction.

:) ]

wildcard.
[ ooc: daniel will also be found walking in the forest surrounding bonfire square as soon as he gets the chance! he's on an all out exploratory mission, really, to get the lay of the land, so feel free to bump into him wherever; if you'd like to plot or discuss, i'm around at virginiawoolf! ]

@featherknives.

[freely]

[ continued. ]

You didn't interrupt at all, Xayah.

[ Names have weight. Meaning. He regards her calmly, the smile still lingering in his eyes. Daniel doesn't much try and hide it, either, as he takes her in -- her bird-like features, the tapered length of her ears -- but he doesn't linger on them, and the ease in his shoulders never seems to sharpen. ]

How wonderful to meet you. [ There's no inflection in his tone. Nothing saccharine, nothing pointed. If there's a weight to the words as he says them, it's only because he truly does mean it. ]

My name is Daniel.

[ A pause. And, ] You don't seem to mind magic much, do you?

ahvenrel sychantus | oc (cw for blood/impending rat cruelty)

[heartsblood]

 ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ﹣ᴄᴏ ﹙ʙᴏᴀᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ﹚;

( he is sitting cross-legged with his back to the railings that overlook the churning water, cleaning his sword. no, that is not a metaphor. he simply has possession of an ancient-looking broadsword, utterly plain and unadorned in nature, that's well matched to the man itself and he's running a cloth over the blade, working oil into the old, stiff leather wrapping the hilt. the blade is nicked and worn in places, but as he passes over its edge he comes away with a bloody thumb and makes a soft, amused noise as he puts the wound to his mouth. )

Call me crazy, but I expected to bleed a little less in my afterlife.

( his tone is light, jovial, and his accent is a curious gestalt of something british and russian, filtering into the rolling warmth of his consonants and the clipped vowels. he nods to the spot beside him on the deck. )

Come, sit. Tell me your name.

 ᴛᴡᴏ ᴘᴀᴛʜs ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀɢᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ ﹙ᴡɪʟᴅᴇʀɴᴇss ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ﹚;

( should you, in your travels, stumble out into the wooded wilds outside of town you may see a man sitting with his back to you, arms at easy repose. he is stripped to the waist, which gives you unfettered sight to the massive tattoo of an ancient, gnarled oak tree spanning his shoulders and down his spine. The tattoo is marred here and there by scars and was almost certainly not done in a contemporary manner despite its intricacy.

should you venture closer, you may note there is an old sword bare across his thighs. there is a motion from his left shoulder, which draws his hand across the blade and then he holds his left hand out to one side and squeezes it into a fist. a ribbon of blood wends its way from between his clenched fingers. it hits the ground in droplets and something of the earth seems to... shift when he does. like a beast settling into the final throes of death. mind your step.

he tips his head to one side. idly, )

I am giving offering to the earth in the way of my people. Care to join me?

 ɴᴜᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴛs ﹙ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ﹚;

( he has, through one means or another, created a pit. here he stands on the edge of it, a rather massive man of considerable stature with easy posture and his thumbs hooked in his belt.

roiling at the bottom of the pit like a murky oilslick are an innumerable amount of spirit rats. ahven jerks his head towards the nearest person. )

What do you think, edible? Or better to dispose of them?

( he is a soldier first. always. hunger is a constant, gnawing presence on the long march to yzmis. he has to make these considerations. but a decade on the open seas means he would rather kill them than risk whatever supplies exist in this place. there is no cruelty in a quick, merciful death. he can simply close the earth over them. )

[consecrates]

[ going through the woods is difficult as it is, the surroundings dark and the soil underneath her foot a little soft, her lantern she's carrying illuminating only a small portion of where she's walking to. davina thinks there's no point trying to move further into the woods and breaking her neck in the process, but she hopes that she can at least find something of use even with the weeds or plants around.

she stops when she notices someone, almost taking a step back in apprehension and wariness at the sight of the tattoo across his back. the smell of blood is faint in the air as well, causing her to wrinkle her nose.

as politely as she can, ] No, thank you. [ though she can't exactly hide her curiosity, the ritual he's doing is very, very familiar in a way. ] ... Blood offering to the earth?

Sam Drake | Uncharted | OTA

[seekingmyfortune]

1. Rats...

Jesus Christ!

[Comes the exclamation from a few feet away of the Bonfire. Upon a closer inspection, one might see a grown man jumping from one foot to the other in an attempt to get away from the scurrying rodents at his feet, swinging his lantern at any that come too close to his legs.

Rats are not a welcome sight in the best of times, but seeing hordes of them come charging towards you after learning you just died somehow makes the whole situation ten thousand times worse. He should have grabbed a gun off of a dead Shoreline guy while he had the chance.

A rat attempts to scuttle up his leg, and Sam flings his lantern at it, resulting in a large squeak as it flies into the darkness. It provides little respite however, because as soon as Sam turns in the direction it came from, his eyes lock on to the Rat King. There's a moment of stillness as Sam tries to process what exactly it is he's seeing, before the thing starts to move towards him and Sam jumps into action, quickly backing up and almost stumbling over his own feet in the process.]

Oh, shit!

[This must be Hell.]

2. General Store

[Screw decorum. Sam has just managed to survive a rat attack and he's in desperate need of a smoke.

Rummaging roughly through the shelves, he's not quiet in his search as he pushes items out of the way in search of some Lucky Strikes. He must not have found what he's looking for however, because after nearly knocking everything over a few times, he finally straightens and shouts to the whole store:]

Has anyone seen any smokes around here?

3. What's an Uncharted character top level without a roof?

[Ah, peace at last. Or whatever peace can be found in a pitch black afterlife teeming with demon rats. In an attempt to find some solace from the insatiable beasts, Sam makes his way to the only place he can think of that they might not be able to reach: the top of the town hall. Holding on to one of the parapets as he straightens up, he turns and looks out over what he can see of Beacon.

It's a long way from the vibrant greens of the jungle and bright blues of the ocean and sky. Whenever Sam thought about what this afterlife thing might be like, he never imagined this. With a heavy sigh, Sam eases his way down to sit at the edge of the eave, feet dangling above the clock face. Idly, he takes out a coin from his pocket, and begins to travel it across the back of his fingers as he stares out into the darkness.]

4. Have a drink

[It's late. Or, at least he thinks it's late if the way his body feels exhausted is anything to go by. He's tired, and yet at the same time he feels restless. It's hard to even think about sleeping here with all the information from Winters' speech still buzzing around in his head, making itself known now that he's actually convinced this isn't some strange dream.

He's still not so sure it isn't the result of a drunken night out.

A drink sounds good, so Sam makes his way to the bar of the Invincible, grateful that they at least still seem to have alcohol here. After procuring a beer, and shooing away a rogue rodent, Sam looks around for a table. Drinking was always a little more enjoyable with another person. At least being with someone else gives the illusion of being alive.

Cautiously walking over, he'll gesture to an empty chair and say:]

Hey. This seat taken?

Wildcard
[Feel free to give me something else! If you want to plot, I can be reached at penpoints]

1...

[mind_blown]

[ oh for fuck's sake.

he's pretty sure he took out the rat kind once before, the damn thing just came back like a bunch of-- well. you get the picture. not to leave some poor schmuck about to get eaten by a bad nightmare, jason lunges forward, knocking it back several feet with his crowbar, before offering that to Sam.

his mask is on, so... eh, formalities later. ]

You might want this.

[ a sword... appears in his other hand. ]

matt murdock / marvel / ota

[catholicisms]

CRUISING.
new characters only.

( he wakes suddenly and unsteadily. the lurch of the ferry makes him feel more than a little ill; it's the first thought Matt has as he takes in what is around him, and notes uncomfortably that it's certainly not what he fell asleep to. it's not his bedroom, it isn't familiar in the slightest. and worse yet in this strange place all he has to his name is the rough-spun blanket that happened to be on the cot when he woke.

it means he's pretty lacking in the clothing department when he gets up, searches his room uneasily to locate the only thing he senses nearby. it's metal, fairly heavy, a little warm but not notably. a lantern? he almost leaves it behind, but since it's all he has to go on he keeps a hand on it. turns out, that's a pretty good call.

he heads for the hallway, the blanket around his shoulders the only modesty he has as he tries to peer through the darkness. he notices with a certain amount of discomfort that he doesn't sense as much as he's used to. not nothing, but certainly not the overload he's used to living in. he only makes it a few steps before his senses go off, and that's enough for him to pause and call out. ) Hello? Is someone there?

( he knows they are; he heard the creak of footsteps. whether whoever he's calling to bothers to answer is another thing entirely. )

OH RATS.
dated after his tdm threads... aka he has clothes now

( Matt has made a point of avoiding the rats. he is from New York City, he's dealt with a rat or twenty in his lifetime. and usually with brutal efficiency, because they are pests and his catholic guilt doesn't kick up regarding public safety violations. thank goodness for that, he's got enough guilt as it is.

still, now that he's dressed, sat through a speech he'd rather have not heard, gotten clothes from more than one individual and been uncomfortably rattled in the woods by a screaming forest spirit... he's feeling better. not great, but when has Matthew Murdock ever felt great?

as much as he's trying to hide what he is and what he can do, as he wanders past the supply store (or at least, that's his guess — he can smell food, musty items, dust inside — he pauses. he hears the tell-tale skittering of tiny feet, whiskers scraping along the wood, and the worst sound of all. sharp teeth chewing, chewing whatever they can get their yellowed teeth on. Matt grimaces as he listens, though as someone walks past him he reaches for them... well, blindly, though that's a bit of a show. he knows where they are well enough. )

Hey. I need help, I think I hear those rats.

WILDCARD.

wanna do something but none of these work? feel free to hit me up via pm or at meowed to set something more specific up!

| ELEKTRA

[catholicisms]

ooc: continued from here.

( they wander through the woods and the vines and the dark for awhile. Matt can get a distant track on the sounds, but distant is the emphasis. when the crying is far enough away, it's likely Elektra has just about as good an idea of where the sound is coming from as he does, though Matt doesn't make any attempt to admit it. if he'd admit it to anyone, the last person in the world he'd admit it to would be Elektra.

finally, though, when he gets close enough his senses almost snap to attention. it's bizarre how fuzzy they seem to be, until he's close enough. like a perfectly spherical snowglobe of a world on fire, instead of miles of details. it is less overwhelming, granted, but Matt does not appreciate the lack of surplus. he'd much prefer to know than not know. he feels much unlike himself when he can't sense what is coming.

it's almost not intentional, the way he catches Elektra's arm. ) We're close, ( he says, finally. ) Under the branches, crouched. Ten feet ahead. ( his voice drops to a whisper because if the child is that close, they can certainly hear his whispering. when he speaks again, it's clear he's not talking to Elektra; he releases her and inches forward, carefully. ) Hello? You don't have to be afraid. We're here to help you.

( there's no answer and no telltale race of a heartbeat. that was a bad sign, but the continued sniffles makes Matt willing to ignore it. )

John Constantine | DC | ota

[inconstantly]

1. LET'S BOOGIE!

[Oh hey, it's a song John recognizes from before he died. He hadn't expected the afterlife to have half decent music but then again considering he isn't on fire and continuously tortured, well, the afterlife is already far different from what he had expected.

As he steps off the boat and onto the pier the song is still well within earshot. He begins stepping in time with the music, shuffling back and forth in no particular hurry. Everyone here is dead, what's the point? Occasionally he dances in front of other people on the pier, swaying and lazily pumping his arms with an inclination of the head in invitation.]

The lyrics might be a little on the nose but I can't find fault with the melody.

2. HIDE AND SQUEAK (aka RATS)

[As John nears the bonfire so do the rats. Many, many rats. He doesn't want to kill the little beasties outright but they are pests bent on consuming anything in sight.

He tightens his grip on his lantern while extending a hand toward the rodents. He begins a Latin incantation and after a few words a cluster of rats have their eyes turn a milky white. They turn away scurrying back to the boat from which they came and John begins the same incantation again to capture the next wave crawling towards him. If anyone is close enough for John to see out of the corner of his eye he will yell at them with a wave.]

Oi! Either help us not get overrun by rats or let me grab your hand for a moment. Rat hypnosis isn't exactly the most efficient thing I've ever done.

[He neglects to explain that the hand holding is for a boost of energy to increase the magic potency, but semantics can wait.]

3. WE DIDN'T START THE (BON)FIRE

[The chaos has died down. Everyone's heard the speeches. It's time for facing facts if one hasn't already. John isn't one to be shy and he immediately takes to inserting himself into someone's personal space and breaking the ice with a sledgehammer:]

So how'd you die?

4. WILDCARD!

[Anything else you wanna do that falls under the intro log umbrella? HMU!]

2

[spitefullight]

[ He did not ask for rats when he asked for those few things. Really, who would ask for rats? A crazy person, that's who. The tide of these disgusting little creatures is enough to make anyone sick and really, Elden is among the many who does not want to be in the thick of it. He's doing his best at batting them aside to try and find some form of higher ground away from this squeaky, crawly swarm when he watches them all just stop...and start going back the way they came.

He's confused but that ends pretty quick when he hears the voice close to him. When he turns, he looks towards the man who has apparently gained control over the rats. It's definitely an impressive feat for sure. Wait, what was that about holding hands? ]

What-? Alright, weird rat charmer man!

[ If it gets the job done, well, he'll take a small leap over a scurrying horde toward them and catch them on the wrist with his armoured hand. ]

Okay, now what?

Arya Stark | ASOIAF/Game of Thrones (open & closed prompts)

[facelessgirl]

⤞ ONE MILLION LITTLE MURDERS - [OPEN TO FIVE]
[ The first rat had come upon her when she was sitting outside the tent she kept with Jon, and Arya had watched it pass her and squeak off into the woods beyond without thinking much of it. Yes, it was the first true creature she'd seen here that she recognized from her world, but it was just a rat. As common a sight as could possibly be. If any animal was going to be in one of the seven hells, why wouldn't it be a rat?

But then another one passed her. And another. She drew Needle and struck the head off the passing fourth just to see what would happen. It died. Now that was interesting, but Arya had no time to think about what it meant as more and more rats were turning up by the minute and suddenly it was a matter of keeping so many vermin out of her things that Arya felt a disgusted sense panic growing within her. She and Jon had been camping out in the open, a good distance back from the fire, and now there were rats in their things. Sword drawn, Arya advanced to stand her ground and defend her belongings, wondering how many more of them there could possibly be. Where had they all come from?

The stand didn't last long. She was growing tired of whirling Needle around long before the rats stopped coming, so while she continued to fend them off, Arya gathered what she could and struck the tent over the rest, hoping the heavy canvas might do something to keep the rats from ruining their furs. She has one skin and her pack bundled under her arm and her dark little tin lantern in her hand, but it's all she can carry with a naked blade in the other. She's struggling with this load and her weapon when she's seen, and when a rat climbs her back and arm and bites through the thinner leather on the finger of her worn glove, Arya curses and drops what she's carrying to fling the rat away into the dark. ]

Seven hells!

⤞ THIS ACCURSED RAIN - [OPEN]
[ And then after the rats there was the rain. It had started slowly, a gentle patter that had sent Arya indoors since her tent had already been destroyed once and had not been turned over for salvage yet, but she's had a drink at the Invincible's bar before she realizes that the rain is picking up. What she's left out under the canvas of her wrecked tent will soak soon if she doesn't handle it, and if it's worth saving at all (even if she has nowhere to put any of it yet), now is the time to get it.

But that means trekking through the increasing rain. Arya sighs and scrapes her stool away from the bar, has to hop down onto the level of the floor due to her small size, but she pauses when she opens the door on the rain. The stupidity, the futility of it all. Why should any of this matter if she's dead?

She's still standing there, in your way whether you're coming in or going out, staring out blankly at the rain and saying nothing. It's almost as though she isn't there. ]

⤞ THE WORLD'S SMALLEST SWORD - [OPEN TO NATE]
[ Arya had stumbled back from Nate's grave nearly frantic with confusion, scrambling to touch her own body where it felt as though she'd been shot, although she has no such word for the experience. All she knows was the great sound of it, the frantic behavior of the men involved, how they all seemed to know the danger of the strange little iron thing even before Arya had seen any evidence of it's deadliness. When it happened she wasn't expecting it. She didn't know what to look for. What to pay attention to.

And it had all been over in an instant.

While she still remembers it vividly, Arya cannot work out most of what she saw, so she's kept her eye open for the man from the vision for days. They must have been missing each other no matter where they went, and Arya has just been thinking that Beacon is too small a place for him not to catch her eye (if he really is even here) when there he is, coming out of the door to the Invincible. She admonishes herself for nothing thinking of staking that place out first. Just look at this guy. He isn't unacquainted with the bar.

In ten quick strides Arya has caught up with him, her short legs be damned, and she swings around to walk gracefully backwards in front of him so as not to interrupt whatever he's doing completely. Her hands are clasped easily behind her back and there is intense curiosity on her face, but there is a confident coolness there as well. She waits for his surprised eyes to find hers. It doesn't take long. ]

What's that? [ She nods at his gun, holstered away where it apparently can't be of any danger. That must be like a sheath for it, she thinks, or something like that. She can't lead with I saw you die, tell me how it happened, so she just looks at him instead. ] And why is it so... loud?

rain, rain

[telepathos]

[ El is in a similar boat. She hadn't had a home ruined by the rain - she hasn't yet found a 'home' here - but she's standing in the rain and staring off into space, debating the value of any of it. It's only after a bit of time that she notices another girl standing nearby, and blinks curiously in her direction. ]

...Are you okay? [ She asks slowly, in her deliberate, earnest way of speaking. The soft question is barely audible over the patter of rain, but Arya is close enough that she'll likely pick up on it. ] Besides -

[ "Dead." She swallows. ]

elisha harper ➣ oc.

[fieldhospital]

01. these first few desperate hours
DAY 1 / TW ANIMAL INJURY/DEATH

[ The first words Elisha Harper utters since dying are a "Jesus Christ" under his breath.

He'd awoken to the same darkness that his life ended in, and for a few minutes, he'd done nothing other than lie still, orienting himself to his environment. The gentle rocking of the floor implied he was on some sort of watercraft - but the reasons for that were unclear. Are still unclear. This isn't heaven, doesn't seem to be hell. Surely not the hell the revivalists were picturing, and as far as the Episcopal church was concerned, a lapse in faith wasn't enough to damn a man for all eternity.

Then he felt for the holes shrapnel had punched into his frock coat with one hand and traced the approximate space where the crater of a close-range gunshot should've been carved above his right brow with the other. The fabric is torn. His skull, and the skin over it, are intact. So he undid the double rows buttons of his coat and searched blindly for the welter of his injuries - and again encountered nothing.

So now here he is, stepping out onto the deck of a ferry only for a large brown rat to run across his foot as soon as he puts it down. The ship is teeming with them, many of which are several times larger than anything he'd seen while alive, and from the frantic voices intertwining in the dark air, it sounds like they've chewed through some of the rations that were being brought to the settlement they've just shored at. They're probably also carrying fleas and ticks. Fantastic.

Elisha looks like shit and knows it as he disembarks amidst a river of furry brown bodies doing the same and approaches the massive fire at the center of town: the fine roots of his hair are weighed down by accumulated sweat and oil; his eyes probably look every bit as exhausted as he feels. His shredded frock coat hangs open to reveal an equally shredded, visibly dirty shirt that was at some point white, and the knees of his formerly sky blue trousers have been dyed red with dust and clay.

The rats - the larger ones, at least - need to be dealt with, and most of Beacon's residents seem to realize that. They're only successful to varying degrees, however; it's clear from the hesitance with which some of them deal with this unsavory task that a great many of these people have never killed anything before, which he wouldn't begrudge them of were it not for the fact that he's now witnessing a botched killing.

It's vaguely sickening, watching the firelight illuminate the cat-sized body writhing in the dirt. Despite that, Elisha's face barely changes as he looks down at it - the corners of his mouth turn downward slightly, but otherwise, he watches the dying animal with neutrality. His voice, on the other hand, is more expressive, its tone falling somewhere between annoyance and disgust as he pulls the shovel from the stranger's hands. ]

Have the decency to do it properly or leave it to people who will.

[ And then, without giving the shovel's past wielder a chance to do as much, he jams its cutting edge into the creature's neck. After a second or so, the struggling stops, at which point he removes the blade and holds out the wooden shaft for its previous owner to take. ]

02. going to beacon
DAY 1

[ A few hours pass before Elisha sets about finding somewhere to lodge — his first concern is gathering more information about his new circumstances, followed by collecting basic necessities like food and bedding. The general store is surreal. Half of its stock is things he doesn't recognize and the other half is comprised of luxury goods that would have been unimaginable during his time at war - clean clothing, coffee beans, fresh fruit, real bread, food options that aren't wood or suet. He gathers what of these he can see himself using, as well as some tools, candles, and rope, then puts them in a metal bucket for east of transportation. He crosses the bridge that separates the main square from the village with two torches taken from the bonfire, the light illuminating the unweathered wooden railings. This appears to have been recently built, and with a pretty impressive level of skill considering that he hasn't heard of any resident engineer in Beacon.

Scouting for somewhere to stay is a lot easier here than it was in half-abandoned towns during the war - after about an hour of poking around Elisha decides on an unoccupied cabin a safe distance from the river; while it looks like an illustration from the pages of Walden and its every surface is sheeted in a thick veil of dust, it's habitable and and has some rudimentary furnishings, so he leaves one of the torches upright in the bucket to light the porch and those nearby.

There are also some decidedly less ordinary features to this place and all of the ones he visited before it. Inventions he doesn't recognize are tethered to holes in the wall with rubbery black cables, flexible and translucent containers are stacked like Russian nesting dolls in one cabinet, and there are multiple spouts for running water in the house. Most remarkable of all, however, is the fact that hot water is available on demand, without any labor on his part — it feels incredible to get clean, to finally scrub the dirt and blood and soot from his skin and wash the weight of accumulated oil away from the roots of his hair and step into clean clothing after he's dried off.

He could probably use the bath to wash the clothes he died in, but it's pleasant out, so he empties one of the lifeless metal planters on the front porch, gives it a rinse, and carries it back outside with soapy water sloshing mildly against its walls. Frock coat under his arm, Elisha brings one of the chairs from the cramped dining room out to the deck and sits down across from the bucket, allows himself a few moments of inactivity to collect his thoughts in the gentle warmth of the mosquitoless black air. There are no cicadas in the trees; no calls of whip-poor-wills, no rustling in the undergrowth as nocturnal animals go about their lives. The rats don't seem to have reached this part of the town yet, so there's no commotion to deal with as he finally immerses the heavy wool and swirls it around in the warm water — the earth seems to be catching its breath after four years of nonstop chaos, and himself along with it. It's restful.

↳ FOR NATE:
[ Elisha's staring into the red-brown water of his own diluted blood when he hears the snap of a branch under someone or something's foot. He looks up sharply and squints at the figure in the dimly lit street — the man's substantially taller than him, but he doesn't get up. ]

This one's been spoken for.

↳ OPEN:
[ After he finishes washing as much blood and ground-in dirt as he can from his coat, Elisha unbuttons the front and lays it out flat to dry over the wooden floorboards of the deck, then dumps the bloody water from this third and final rinse off the side of the railing to join the growing red stain on the dusty path to the end of the neighborhood. It's possible your character notices all the blood at the edge of the road - or maybe the Union frock coat spread out on the deck. Either way, Elisha will still be sitting out on the porch and staring out into the darkness as if there's something remotely entertaining to be seen there when they encounter him. ]

03. the wind shakes the palm trees with an escalating fury
DAY 5

[ At times, especially in the snow, the war had felt like little more than a prolonged attempt at attrition, hoping that your own ability to withstand pain or hunger, or your ability to simply survive would outweigh the enemy's, or that it would allow you to hold out long enough for the ferocity of inclement weather to wane and leave you exhausted but still standing on your own two feet in its wake. Perhaps it's simply habit keeps Elisha where he's sitting at the bar when the gentle patter of rain against the windows metamorphoses into a downpour.

Everything ends if you wait long enough, and while getting wet wouldn't be the end of the world, he'd rather not, so he simply takes another sip from the half-finished glass of whiskey on the table in front of him and continues listening to fragments of conversation here and there. He can't pick up all of it, nor does he hear the soft footsteps behind him — he only turns his head when he catches the movement of a stranger sitting down on the barstool next to his at the edge of his peripheral vision, at which point he gives them a faint, close-lipped smile that's more of an obligatory acknowledgement of eye contact than any sort of greeting.

If your character's familiar with basic American history, they'll probably recognize by the thigh-length Prussian blue frock coat he's wearing (after some critically needed repairs) and sky blue trousers that he died during the American Civil War fighting for the Union. If they're familiar with modern rank insignias, they'll likely also suss out that he's a major based on the gold oak leaves embroidered on either end of both shoulder boards; the 𝕸.𝕾. stitched at the center of both identifies him as a surgeon, but those markings would be harder to guess because some but not all surgeons chose to wear them and they weren't regulation. ]

03;

[originallutece]

[Of course she recognizes the uniform. Admittedly, it takes some time, because war has never interested her, but she'd be a fool not to recognize it sooner or later. Any Columbian citizen would. God knows Comstock had shoved all their faces in it, idolizing his false glory and forcing them all to half-worship those who had come before. She'd found it rather disgusting, all in all, but--

The point is: yes, she knows roughly when and where he's from. Not his rank, although she can at least guess it's rather high-up. She stares at him for a few seconds longer than is strictly polite, blatant in the way she sizes him up.]

How distinct.

[Her voice is upper-class British, but one softened by twenty years of living with Americans. And though her outfit is modern, pencil skirt and blouse, perhaps something about her bearing suggests she isn't so distant from him, time-wise. The way she holds herself, like she's more used to a petticoat and corset, or maybe the way she has her hair pinned back, firmly out of the way and swept upwards, styled a little more forward-fashioned than he's used to.

Or maybe not. Who can say?]

Not your nationality. Your time period-- your date of death, when was it?

[And, like, hi, or whatever.]

elektra natchios | daredevil | ota

[ultraviolents]

WELCOME.

[ death hadn't left her with much, but an afterlife that wasn't hell was already more than she'd expected. not that elektra has ever been particularly religious, but it's been present enough in her life for her to know that if one exists, she's meant for it. at least that had been her thought before waking on a docking ship.

ferry, she corrects herself. it's much too small for a ship.

when the movement comes to a complete stop, elektra pulls the mask of her battle outfit over her nose and mouth, taking the lantern with her to see. there seems to be an infestation among the other passengers disembarking, and none take any notice as she steps carefully around and in front of them, disappearing into the thick of the crowd as one gathers around the man - winters, he calls himself - who makes an announcement to the lot of them.

it's...brief. especially given what he's telling them. but there are some notable bullet points: their lantern is what keeps them in their afterlife, they were brought here for a reason, they're not the first to go through this and there's the possibility that whoever's in charge could decide things aren't working and reset everything. he then leaves the job to the rest of the crowd, a lot of which have apparently been there longer and have a better idea what to expect. none of them look particularly happy, about being here or being assigned the job of explaining things. so they're in the same position as winters, it seems.

there's a lot to do, not the least of which includes research. she'd rather keep her profile low, but she pulls her mask down to appear more amiable. it'll be easier to get an explanation out of people if they trust her, and secrecy tends to make that impossible, especially in this kind of situation. ]

You have to wonder what had her decide on them if nothing else was worth keeping. [ it's muttered to whoever's within earshot, relative native or newcomer. ]

BONFIRE.

[ elektra's done a fair amount of reading up on what this place is about and what she can expect from it, especially after an encounter in the woods. her hearing's mostly returned and she can walk steadily now, so she's taking the opportunity to bond with the locals. or to be more accurate, see what she can learn from the locals. if you seem like you've been here long enough, she'll find her way over to you holding two cups, both filled with a hot liquid (what it is depends on how old you appear to be, she's not looking to get any children drunk). ]

I know the fire's plenty hot on it's own, but you looked like you could use one of these, too.

NETWORK (un: badeaux).

if anyone else was fooled by those cries in the forest, i'd appreciate knowing that i wasn't alone. and putting a name to that ghastly thing.

if you weren't fooled and you hear crying in the forest, don't investigate it.

WILDCARD.

[ if nothing i've set up works for you, choose your own adventure and i'll roll with it! feel free to PM me if you've got any questions or want to work things out before moving forward. ]

shots shots shots shots shots

[nonscriptum]

[ He's only down here to scout for familiar faces, preferably with the conclusion that he can't find any more of them. Sam and Chloe from home, Matt from- well, not Hadriel, but still present. People he has complicated, conflicted feelings over, because the company is nice but the reason for being here isn't. Nate tries not to think about that, when the darkness of this place really presses in on them, a stranglehold in a shitty excuse for Hell.

He's just turning away from the bonfire to go back to town, maybe across the river, when she calls to him.

A pretty woman with dark hair and hooded eyes, the latter of which he can barely see, back-lit by the fire as she is. The dim cast from his lantern catches on a pair of cups in her hands and one seems to be extended to him, though it takes Nate a moment too long to realize it's for him. Probably should have guessed she wouldn't be double-fisting drinks out here, not that it isn't warranted. Being dead seems to have contributed to a rise in local rates of early-stage alcoholism. ]

Um. Thanks.

[ He takes one of them gratefully, getting a whiff of something strong and decidedly high-proof. Some kind of toddy? ]

I'm guessing you're new here.