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theianlogs2017-09-01 12:00 am
theianmods) wrote in theianlogs2017-09-01 12:00 am
Entry tags:
- detective conan: heiji hattori (ou),
- devilman: akira fudo (ou),
- ffxiv: nero tol scaeva (au),
- ffxv: aranea highwind (crau),
- ffxv: prompto argentum (crau),
- game of thrones: daenerys targaryen (ou),
- game of thrones: jon snow (ou),
- gintama: gintoki sakata (ou),
- gintama: kamui (ou),
- homestuck: ar/hal (ou),
- kamen rider ooo: ankh (ou),
- kamen rider ooo: eiji hino (ou),
- kh: lea (ou),
- kh: vexen (au),
- khr! tyl!superbi squalo (ou),
- khr!: tyl!fran (crau),
- noel la neige: noel christenbell (ou),
- original: dinah travers,
- pokemon: leaf (au),
- resident evil: lucas baker (ou),
- series: character,
- south park: kenny mccormick (au),
- super girl: kara danvers (ou),
- the adventure zone: taako (ou),
- warcraft film: khadgar (ou),
- warcraft film: llane wrynn i (ou),
- warcraft film: medivh (ou),
- wow: khadgar (ou),
- wow: varian wrynn (ou),
- yu-gi-oh!: atem (ou)
Welcome to Theia!
Who: Your mysterious caretakers and you
When: September 1st
Where: The Town Square
What: The welcome wagon has arrived!
Warnings: Minor gore, death
It's a white envelope that finds its way under every door, through every nook and cranny a day or two after your arrival. With the peculiar, bloodstained fingerprints lovingly applied as though they were a signature scrawled into its thin paper body, it doggedly persists--it will find you--until you open it and read the letter written ever so meticulously in fine script. It's a cordial invitation to a party hosted in your honor in the town square today. You should hurry, hurry, hurry! You wouldn't want to be late and keep your generous hosts waiting... or so says that oddly compelling feeling pressing into the back of your head. You make your way to the square, the urgent tugging feeling growing stronger the closer you get, and when you turn the corner to get a glimpse of the festivities, you find it's... not quite what you had been expecting.
The square is small, and looks rather out of general use. The fountain in the center is dusty and crumbling, and if there was ever any water in it it's long gone now. Most of the cobbled stones are broken and loose in the road. There are two long tables stocked with refreshments along either side of the walkway to the fountain, and what appears to be a small stage of some sort right in front of it, holding a large, ornate chair and a third table. The most unsettling thing, however, is the rest of the décor.
The theme is death, or so it would appear. Beside the food table to your left sits a bespectacled man wearing a scarf, but was the scarf always red, or is it only stained so because his head is hanging onto his neck by a thread? Against his lap rests a beautifully crafted cello, which appears to be missing its G-string... Oh. There it is--it's still stuck in the gashed man's neck. The poor bastard has been garrotted with the strings of his cello! Talk about hoisted by your own petard. Where his head lolls against the table, you may notice that behind those glasses, his eyes are missing.
Near the fountain is a large, wrought-iron statue of an archer, where... well, he's made his first kill, apparently. The body of a young girl with long dark hair is speared neatly through the chest by the archer's arrow, her little feet a good half a yard off the ground, now sticky with her blood. If you step closer to peer into the fountain, you'll find another body, this one a man with short dark hair, his face twisted into a mask of desperation and his gloved hands around his own throat as though he were gasping for air. Oddly, his lower jaw appears to be missing. Did he drown? There is no water in the fountain...
In the ornate chair on the platform is the body of another man, this one with his head completely removed from his shoulders. Oh... there it is, in his lap, his hands carefully arranged in his wild black hair. Wait, it seems there are too many hands, though! A second body dangles from a large tree that looms over the square, the rope frayed and dirty where it is wrapped around another man's neck, a strangely peaceful smile on his face, blue though it is. His hands rest atop the first man's, as though making certain the severed head remains still.
On the table in front of the chair rests a chest, its lid wide open and a glittering bounty inside.
If you peer inside, you will see a collection of eggs! Scaly, cool to the touch, and about the size of a football, they come in several colors. There is a note pinned to the inside of the trunk's lid--
Do you take an egg, as the note suggests? Dare you? (Dare you not?)
That pressing feeling in the back of your head has left you now, now that you are here to be welcomed to the city, now that you are here in the presence of your caretakers, but it is difficult to take comfort in the relief from the compulsion when surrounded by so much destruction. Who has done this to the faithful sentinels of the city? Who has killed the Watcher, the Interloper, the Guardian, the Nightingale, and the Keeper? Why have they been left here, at your welcoming home party?
Before you can turn to ask your neighbor, before you can wonder any further, a sound breaks the silence--a terrible, wet crunching noise like a sheet of ice breaking under your feet. You turn over your shoulder to see that it isn't anything so simple as ice. In the middle of the square is one final body, a body that wasn't there but a moment ago. She is small, thin, with dark hair and eerily pale eyes wide in terror. You know this girl, she met you on the elevator, expressed pleasure that you had been found (had you been lost?), and welcomed you home. Where did she come from? It's as though she simply... fell out of the sky! The Dreamer now dreams forever.
As you turn to survey the carnage all around you, a pleasant chiming sound seems to fill the air. It would seem that your mirror has a message for you! Upon inspection, you will find a new icon on the main viewscreen.
If you touch the icon, it will take you to a new application. Welcome to the Task Board! Here you will find a multitude of errands you can run for... whoever is running the city, now. Boy, what a way to announce things are under new management!
Welcome back to Theia, wayward children. Please enjoy the refreshments--watch out for the Nightingale's eyes, they may have fallen into the punch--get reacquainted with your friends and neighbors, and do take good care of those eggs. Or else...
When: September 1st
Where: The Town Square
What: The welcome wagon has arrived!
Warnings: Minor gore, death
It's a white envelope that finds its way under every door, through every nook and cranny a day or two after your arrival. With the peculiar, bloodstained fingerprints lovingly applied as though they were a signature scrawled into its thin paper body, it doggedly persists--it will find you--until you open it and read the letter written ever so meticulously in fine script. It's a cordial invitation to a party hosted in your honor in the town square today. You should hurry, hurry, hurry! You wouldn't want to be late and keep your generous hosts waiting... or so says that oddly compelling feeling pressing into the back of your head. You make your way to the square, the urgent tugging feeling growing stronger the closer you get, and when you turn the corner to get a glimpse of the festivities, you find it's... not quite what you had been expecting.
The square is small, and looks rather out of general use. The fountain in the center is dusty and crumbling, and if there was ever any water in it it's long gone now. Most of the cobbled stones are broken and loose in the road. There are two long tables stocked with refreshments along either side of the walkway to the fountain, and what appears to be a small stage of some sort right in front of it, holding a large, ornate chair and a third table. The most unsettling thing, however, is the rest of the décor.
The theme is death, or so it would appear. Beside the food table to your left sits a bespectacled man wearing a scarf, but was the scarf always red, or is it only stained so because his head is hanging onto his neck by a thread? Against his lap rests a beautifully crafted cello, which appears to be missing its G-string... Oh. There it is--it's still stuck in the gashed man's neck. The poor bastard has been garrotted with the strings of his cello! Talk about hoisted by your own petard. Where his head lolls against the table, you may notice that behind those glasses, his eyes are missing.
Near the fountain is a large, wrought-iron statue of an archer, where... well, he's made his first kill, apparently. The body of a young girl with long dark hair is speared neatly through the chest by the archer's arrow, her little feet a good half a yard off the ground, now sticky with her blood. If you step closer to peer into the fountain, you'll find another body, this one a man with short dark hair, his face twisted into a mask of desperation and his gloved hands around his own throat as though he were gasping for air. Oddly, his lower jaw appears to be missing. Did he drown? There is no water in the fountain...
In the ornate chair on the platform is the body of another man, this one with his head completely removed from his shoulders. Oh... there it is, in his lap, his hands carefully arranged in his wild black hair. Wait, it seems there are too many hands, though! A second body dangles from a large tree that looms over the square, the rope frayed and dirty where it is wrapped around another man's neck, a strangely peaceful smile on his face, blue though it is. His hands rest atop the first man's, as though making certain the severed head remains still.
On the table in front of the chair rests a chest, its lid wide open and a glittering bounty inside.
If you peer inside, you will see a collection of eggs! Scaly, cool to the touch, and about the size of a football, they come in several colors. There is a note pinned to the inside of the trunk's lid--
Do you take an egg, as the note suggests? Dare you? (Dare you not?)
That pressing feeling in the back of your head has left you now, now that you are here to be welcomed to the city, now that you are here in the presence of your caretakers, but it is difficult to take comfort in the relief from the compulsion when surrounded by so much destruction. Who has done this to the faithful sentinels of the city? Who has killed the Watcher, the Interloper, the Guardian, the Nightingale, and the Keeper? Why have they been left here, at your welcoming home party?
Before you can turn to ask your neighbor, before you can wonder any further, a sound breaks the silence--a terrible, wet crunching noise like a sheet of ice breaking under your feet. You turn over your shoulder to see that it isn't anything so simple as ice. In the middle of the square is one final body, a body that wasn't there but a moment ago. She is small, thin, with dark hair and eerily pale eyes wide in terror. You know this girl, she met you on the elevator, expressed pleasure that you had been found (had you been lost?), and welcomed you home. Where did she come from? It's as though she simply... fell out of the sky! The Dreamer now dreams forever.
As you turn to survey the carnage all around you, a pleasant chiming sound seems to fill the air. It would seem that your mirror has a message for you! Upon inspection, you will find a new icon on the main viewscreen.
If you touch the icon, it will take you to a new application. Welcome to the Task Board! Here you will find a multitude of errands you can run for... whoever is running the city, now. Boy, what a way to announce things are under new management!
Welcome back to Theia, wayward children. Please enjoy the refreshments--watch out for the Nightingale's eyes, they may have fallen into the punch--get reacquainted with your friends and neighbors, and do take good care of those eggs. Or else...
no subject
He retrieves the Umbra Staff where it's hung at his back, shaking it out a little; he holds it out on display, showing it to her.
"I do, like, actual, real magic."
no subject
Gosh, she misses Winn. She misses home. She misses her sister, and her real bed.
Those feelings make her glare up at the Manor as they come to a stop, the doorway seeming to smile at them, beckoning them closer.
But first, there's an umbrella. She really doesn't understand the point of the flipping umbrella. It's an umbrella!
"What does actual real magic mean?" she asks.
no subject
Right, other worlds. Funny how they have the same languages, just with different names.
"Look, if an example would make you less sassy about it, I can definitely do that. Just point me at something and say the word."
no subject
no subject
He actually puts his umbrella away, and he steps over to the door, clearing his throat pointedly. He reaches out...
... and knocks on the door, a brief, light rapping on the wood. Two very strange things happen almost immediately: first, something unseen knocks back, and not as nicely, knocking his hand away before he can catch it.
The second is that something on the other side knocks back... and, just to be cute, it taps out "Shave And A Haircut."
Taako snorts, breaking into high-pitched giggles.
"Seriously?"
no subject
Then his hand drops, but there's still knocking, a quirky little uptempo beat. She's heard that tune before, at home. Her adopted dad would knock on her bedroom door that way before coming in. And she's heard soldiers at the DEO do it before entering a room, on the rare occasion when panic and disorder aren't happening at the DEO, at least.
The door, however, doesn't open.
"What the heck was that?"
no subject
The knocking back thing is definitely weird, but... shit, it's still the least weird thing he's seen here so far.
no subject
She's just about sick of being kidnapped and not getting any answers.
Stomping up to the door, Kara rears back and kicks at the door, dead center, with the heel of her boot, full force behind it. It's a wooden door. Wooden doors should splinter, shatter at a kick like that. She should be staring through a gaping open hole into the inside of this huge mansion.
But she's not. And then, as if someone invisible landed in front of her, she was struck, amplified, a punch from a Kryptonian on speed, right to her jaw. It sends her reeling, staggering back in the dirt.
Kara holds her jaw. It hurts. One punch shouldn't leave her like this.
"What the hell?" She hovers off the ground then and soars forward, fists out in front of her, aiming her entire body at the door.
There's resistance, immediately. She practically bounces back off the door, spiraling in the air and landing a few feet behind Taako with a loud thud. She pushes herself up just enough to look over her shoulder at the house. "What the hell!"
no subject
Taako stares as Supergirl repeatedly makes attempts on the door-- he has no idea just how hard her kicks and punches are ordinarily, but he can guess from just watching her, and that door should definitely be smashed into pieces with just the first go at it. The fact that it even requires more than one makes him realize all at once that they aren't getting through.
As soon as she collides with the ground, he turns to stroll casually over to her, shrugging his shoulders.
"Uh... yeah, I don't think we're getting in there anytime soon."
no subject
"Wanna bet?" she asks, her eyes bright, glowing hot and orange. She picks herself up, cape shaking out dust behind her as she strides forward, purpose in every step. She's not sure what person could be holding the door closed, or what magical thing it could be. It's not human - that's obvious, but if it has any sort of grip on the door at all, it's about to be in for a world of burning hurt.
Twin beams of heat and light spark and shoot out of Kara's eyes, aimed at the metal doorknob. It glows orange, seems to warp under the heat, and finally - finally, they're getting somewhere.
But then, all at once, it's as if all the heat burning in the knob is sucked out, replaced by cold gray, and instead is fired back at Kara. At the last second, Kara holds her cape in front of her, the heat hitting the red cloth and dissipating.
"Ha!" she calls out to the door. "I'm just too fast for that!"
And then there's another beam, not exactly from the doorknob, but from the direction of the house. Like an invisible source again, a guardian shielding the house from all damage. Another strike of heat hurtles towards her, this time making contact. It fires at her hip, slicing up, through her suit to skin, in a neat line to the bottom of her ribcage.
Kara cries out in pain, sinking to one knee, her hands going to her side.
That's not supposed to happen. There's not much that can even hurt her, much less break skin, not if she's got her powers. But her skin is bubbling and burning, cauterized from the heat instantly where it's split open, mangled and red and angry from what she can see through the gash in her suit.
no subject
Well. So much for Supergirl.
"Hey! Here's an idea: let's not throw anymore superpowers at the door for it to throw back in our fuckin' faces, how about that?" This time, Taako does not approach her, mostly out of concern that she's going to jump right back into the fray, Magnus-style, and get both of them vaporized somehow.
The door just isn't going to open; it's incredibly obvious, to him at least, that there's magic involved, and magic that far outmatches his own, which is worrying on top of being just plain embarrassing.
no subject
She feels tired.
"Nothing is impossible," she says, voice low and pained as she glares at the door. She limps past Taako, not looking at him. It's humiliating being seen like this - this literally isn't supposed to be able to happen to her. And now... she's supposed to inspire hope! Beaten up superheroes don't look hopeful.
"Thanks for the help." She keeps one hand on her side as she passes and keeps walking, retracing her steps back to the party and then past it, back to her fake room in her fake house.