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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
[Said as he wipes the tip of his umbrella against the ground, his face scrunched up in disgust. He turns to Fumiko after a beat, noticing just how sickly pale she is properly for the first time.]
... maybe you should sit down for a second, darling.
no subject
[She'll take him at his word, because at the mention of sitting down?
She's finding the nearest flat surface, sitting down and hugging herself.] By the Immortals... W-Why..?
no subject
[Taako shrugs his shoulders, his expression sheepish.]
Maybe they're just into some really avant-garde decorating.
[... a weak attempt at a joke.]
no subject
She stares at him in shock.]
...W-With people? It's....
[Disgusting - and she loses the battle against throwing up, thankfully hitting the ground, and not her lap. But that's a small comfort as the tears finally start to come.
Humiliation burns across her face. She's the Kanto Champion. She's not supposed to be weak.]
no subject
Taako awkwardly turns his head as she vomits, glancing off and tapping his fingers against the surface of the egg he's holding idly.]
Uh... whoopsie. Sorry about that, pumpkin.
no subject
I...I'm sorry. B-Bad memories.
[True enough, and everyone has those. But it's awkward enough in her mind that Subject Change Go! After a deep breath to try and keep her stutter under control.]
My name is Kasahara Fumiko. I-.... D-Did you also get an egg? Do you know why they'd give us one?
[Take, get. Same thing, right?]
no subject
[He indicates the large, silver egg that he retrieved from he chest, turning it to highlight its slick surface.]
If this thing hatches and a dead body falls out or something, I'm out.
no subject
I-I hope it doesn't. [It she bites her lip in thought, staring at it.] It looks like it might be a..a dragon egg?
[She has no idea, even as she pulls out her own egg. This one is red and the size of a grapefruit.] But I've never heard of dragons laying coloured eggs.
no subject
[He grins at her, admiring his big, shining egg a bit more himself, his smile almost catlike in shape.]
Maybe we should try to warm these little guys up and see what happens.
no subject
And, she hero-worshiped Lance when she was younger.]
W-warm them up? But... Eggs take a long time to hatch, and I don't have a pokemon with Flame Body on me.
no subject
It doesn't work.]
... I'm sorry, a what?
no subject
[She seems to shrink in on herself a little. She'd really wanted one, but she couldn't afford the $3500 for buying a magby from Blaine.]
no subject
[He does seem pretty apologetic, which is rare for him. She seems to be a nice enough girl, and is already upset.]
no subject
[Give her a second as she pulls a red-and-white ball from her belt. In a flash of multicoloured light, a smallish bird is perched on her lap.
Please enjoy the unblinking stare of a psychic bird.]
U-unless you know them by another name, of-of course. Though I think only R-Ransei does.
[And there's now a headscratch as she attempts to recall what little she knows of Ransei that's not related to anything on TV.]
no subject
Uh... Pocket Monsters, huh? That's... on the nose, uh... [He giggles, a little bit uncertainly.] So is that a species, or... like...?
no subject
[She doesn't even give a lick of thought that he's going to understand her slang.]
T-there's non-mon of course, l-like sea life and small bugs and insects.
no subject
[He's giggling again; he saw her holding what he assumes she's talking about before, and there is no way that thing is meant to fit in there.]
Is it an enchantment, or science, or what?
no subject
[It's like, one of the first things a child learns about pokemon: they turn into energy to go into a pokeball.] It just is?
[Like, it's probably been explained to her a number of times, but it works. She doesn't need to know how, right?]
no subject
[He's only mildly exasperated by that response; really, he's more amused than anything by the fact that not even she seems to know what it's all about.]
Can I ask you another stupid question? Uh, why do they do that? Like, why is this a thing you can do?
no subject
I-I'm sorry, but I don't understand wh-what you're asking? I-It works. It... i-it works an-and that's all that matters?
[Right?]
no subject
[He shrugs his shoulders, genuinely seeming satisfied with that.
... and then he glances around.]
... so do you want to, like, leave? Because I personally am not super into the idea of sitting here, waiting for whatever did this to come back.