villagelogs | 028-029 » the winds of change

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028-029 » the winds of change

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central Mathias.
WHEN: Days 028-029
WHAT: A town meeting is called.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Ikiryo"

DAY 028
SOMETHING ON THE WIND
Another day dawns in the fair town of Mathias. The sky is a blanket of light grey, tiny specks of snow lightly falling as the hours pass. It makes the town feel almost quaint, the scenery quite peaceful in its winter garb. But beneath the veneer of peace there is a pervasive dread of something approaching. Something inevitable is on the wind, something that has come before and will come again...

Throughout the day, residents will consistently experience feelings of deja vu, that sense of having done or seen or said something before that can never be fully recalled. It happens again and again, tugging at the back of their minds, the memories just frustratingly out of reach.

Residents will also notice a note pinned around town:

The note can be found on the town hall's bulletin board and the front doors of many town establishments, including the Grey Gull, the library, and the boarding house. At the bottom of the note it is specified that the meeting will take place "tomorrow, when the sun is over the town square."

NEW ARRIVALs
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake on the frozen lawn of the town hall atop a snowdrift. They had best hurry inside and get warmed up before hypothermia sets in.

DAY 029
A GATHERING OF MINDS
In the late afternoon when the sun hangs over the town square, residents will converge upon the Town Hall, where a larger meeting room has been filled with rows of chairs. After most people arrive, John Constantine stands and addresses the room... and then sits again. A grand introduction, truly.

Residents are encouraged to share their experiences and information they have gathered in the town while holding questions until the end. Rather than getting tangled in the intricacies of each person's tale, it seems better to absorb the broad strokes and try to connect the puzzle pieces to get a look at the bigger picture that is the mystery of Mathias Township.

THE INEVITABLE
As the meeting comes to an end and residents begin to converse among themselves, the feeling of something approaching and sense of deja vu begin to build, becoming almost oppressive as night falls. An hour after nightfall, residents learn the reason for these sensations that cease immediately as the earth begins to rumble. The buildings shake, furniture tumbles, and breakables crash to the floor as the earthquake sets in without warning.

The tremors last around a minute, far longer than a normal earthquake, and then the town settles again. There are no aftershocks, which many may note is quite unusual. Residents will find quite a bit of mess in their homes and other locations around town, but there is no structural damage to be found despite the intense shaking.

CONDITIONS UPDATE
— THE WEATHER is fairly typical of a northern winter. The sky is grey, the temperature hovers just below freezing during the day (colder at night), and a light snow falls during both days. Residents should bundle up when going outside and not venture too far into the dark night...

— THE FOG remains blocking the paths in the forest, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper, and it also now blocks the northern section of town, beginning just before where residents know the chasm in the earth to be. Venturing into the fog is ill-advised.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue with Sherlock Holmes being the latest victim of the town's unsettling whims.

OOC NOTES
— TOWN MEETING STRUCTURE The town meeting section of the log is designed for characters to share any information they would like to with the other residents in attendance. ICly, characters should "hold questions until the end" with the intent that they can get the Big Picture first and connect any dots they see. OOCly, this means players should post their character's information sharing tag in the Meeting section, but the actual conversation about whatever they share happens after the meeting proper in the Mingle section. That way, these conversations can happen however players prefer, be that one-on-one or in small or large groups.

— HOUSING Please be sure your character's housing arrangements are up to date on our list. We're missing a few people and it really helps to know where everyone is for planning. Frequent updates for wandering characters are perfectly acceptable.

— THE BULLETIN BOARD has been updated. Players should note there is a change to the wall near the board that may be of great interest to some residents.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Then I'll come back up. Or yell it up. No one's gonna die down there, that's far too mundane for this place. I haven't spend a hundred plus years down a well; you'll tell Malcolm that it's better that someone was left up top in case somethin' does happen. We don't know if those tunnels are enforced or not, or how they've been weakened by the earthquake. 'Sides, you don't know shit about mines, do you?"

They were two guys arguing over a shaft; felt like a throwback to his younger days.

"Raylan Givens. Do not use that wretched well against me. This ain't no ordinary mine shaft and you know it. We buried some folks for mundane reasons. You are not going down there alone."

Clenching his teeth, Doc growls and takes a couple of steps towards the moonshine house, turning his back to the door.

"We can both go down." It's shaping up to be either both or neither of the stubborn mules, at this point.

"We buried folk for fog reasons," Raylan said, fully blocking the path back. Pointing back at 1306, Raylan explained his stopping. "The flashlights, Henry. Your drink. I ain't runnin' anywhere, you'll be fine, go on."

It wasn't often that Raylan dug in his heels but the revelation under 1307 pissed him off and that made him ornery.

"I ain't going to stop you but you don't have to strongman through this."

It is not his way, to sit around and do nothing as other man puts his life on the line. Even if he does not fancy himself dropping into a dark, potentially bottomless pit.

"Give me that damn spoon," he gripes, snatching it out of Raylan's grasp and sighing exaggeratedly before taking long, brisk strides over to 1307. Their footsteps in the snow back and forth tell a tale of detours and indecision, but the heavier, more set steps are more determined as he marches into 1307.

Grabbing a fresh bottle of moonshine from the kitchen counter, Doc drinks a few big gulps straight out of the bottle before setting it back down and walking up to the edge of the hole. He waits until Raylan is by his side before he drops the spoon down and counts the seconds that pass before they hear an ominous little clink.

It would have been smarter. It would have been safer. But Raylan wasn't going to punch out Doc to keep him from going down. The man had his door out; him choosing not to take it wasn't something Raylan would bear responsibility for. But neither of them would be going down there alone, apparently.

Raylan stalked along behind Doc until he got to the hole, stopping there while his fellow hat took on some more liquid courage. He looked up from under his hat as Doc joins him and juts his chin towards the hole. Go on. Drop it.

One. dink

He couldn't help the huff of a laugh that fell into him tonguing his teeth thoughtfully. "Maybe 16 foot deep... We got a ladder at least that, don't we? I'm sure we do," he said, striding off to look for the rack they'd been hanging their laundry on in one of the bathrooms. He came back a few minutes later with an old ladder they'd found out in the patio.

"Help me drop it in so I don't drop and shatter it. I don't trust this wood but it should hold us up and down once. We can reinforce it later."

Well step aside kids, the shaft whisperer is in town.

Doc wrinkles his nose. 16 feet deep is still 12 feet too deep for his liking. He hangs around the trapdoor while Raylan fetches the ladder, waiting for someone or something to come crawling out, right hand halfway across his back ready to pull his butter knife.

"Alright," he agrees, tension easing out of his stance as he takes hold of one side of the ladder. When Raylan's ready they edge it to the hole and Doc swallows that too-big lump in his throat as they slowly lower it into the abyss.

It feels a lot deeper than 16 feet at the rate they're going and he can't help but breathe a sigh of relief when they seem to hit the bottom. Doc spends an inordinate amount of time feeling up his torch before he pulls it out of his gun holster, clicking it on and shining it down the hole.

"Well." Deep breath in. Deep breath out. "She looks alright."

It always felt like forever til they hit bottom, but bottom always came. If Raylan could siphon some of his chill and knowhow about it to the other cowboy he would. Since he couldn't, once they straightened from dropping the ladder, he looked over. He could see the gears working towards bravery, towards the stones enough to tuck Doc's biggest fear into that now empty gunbelt.

"I'm going down first. I'd rather you stay up here so I know I got a way out. It's only a hole." He paused a beat, hoping that Doc would look over at him. "I won't tell anyone that you didn't go down if you don't." He set a hand on Doc's shoulder, squeezing gently before he dropped down to sit, legs dangling in the hole for a second. "Once I'm on the ladder, hand me a flashlight, would ya?"

This wasn't a mine; it was just a hole and Raylan could handle a hole. He shifted out until his boot could catch on a rung, gently pulling his weight out as he started working his way down, pausing long enough to take the flashlight from Doc.

"It's not about that," Doc grunts, standing with his hands on his hips watching Raylan get ready to go. His shoulders are clearly still tense if Raylan's grip is anything to go by. His image is the last thing on his mind right now. If there are spores or something else down there and he'd just sent Raylan off on his own, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"Here," he offers, crouching down and reaching behind himself to pick up and give Raylan another torch. So far so good. "Raylan, I--"

Don't be a chicken shit, Doc. Or just a shit in general.

"Be careful," he finishes weakly.

No, it wasn't about his image. It was about his wellbeing. Raylan had only offered to help soothe whatever edges he could of the issue plaguing his friend. He knew it wasn't much other than going first, other than putting himself out there ahead of Doc.

Before taking the torch, Raylan takes off his hat and flips it up onto the floor, gathering the flashlight with look up at Doc and a firm nod. "It's just a hole, just a ladder. It'll be okay." The words were gentle and he put a point on them with a fraction of a nod and a lift of his eyebrows. It would be okay. He would be okay.

Down he went, the flashlight against the foundation and soil the only indication to match the soft sounds of his boots working their way down the rungs. Raylan focused on moving his hands and feet instead of how long it might take him to hit the ground. Deep breaths, in and out. One foot in front of the other, just keep moving. Eventually, in what seemed like forever but was likely only half a minute, Raylan hit paydirt and stepped off the ladder with a deep breath. The torchlight was turned down the other way, the beam bending into nothingness. No back wall.

"It's a tunnel," he hollered back up at Doc. "Can't tell how far it goes. Seems.. long."

A tunnel? Doc averts his gaze, scratching his jaw. He picks up Raylan's hat and moves it under the table where it's less likely to get trodden on should they need to hurry out of the hole.

"Alright. Give me a minute." Shit. Breathing out a sigh, he holsters his torch and starts on the ladder.

"You see a mirror down there?" He asks, seemingly out of the blue. Chatting helps him with the descent and the dread that fills him, telling him over and over again that this is a terrible idea. The creaking of the ladder doesn't help settle his nerves at all.

He'd wait. There was no way he was going to forge on without company, without Heney. There was a deep seated need to not be alone down here but going into holes like this alone was not something he was skilled at. Mining was not a solo adventure.

"A mirror? Not.. Not so far as I ca-" Before he got any further, the creak of that wood gave way to a fracture and a break, sending Doc tumbling down right on top of Raylan with a half breathed swear, only half turning before he crumpled under the momentum and cracked his head on the ground.

He and his brain were just gonna take a second, thanks.

This was not the ill-fated end he had anticipated from Two Cowboys One Shaft. Doc's grip tightened on the ladder and he inadvertently brought some of it down on top of them. In the dark he gropes around some wood and some Marshal jeans until he finds some ground beneath his hands and knees.

"Raylan?" Doc reaches over to give him a little shake, the echo of his voice cutting through the commotion. "Are you okay?" He can't hear much beyond the sound of his own heartbeat thumping away but potentially knocking Raylan out is taking his attention away from the sheer panic of being stuck down here.

It wasn't the first time Raylan had been knocked out, but the fall hadn't been hard enough to make the blackout last more than a minute. It was more than disorienting to open his eyes from darkness to... darkness, the shaking from his leg drawing his blurry feeling attention with a throaty breath that was answer enough.

He wasn't dead, that was for sure.

Reaching up to touch his head, he was glad to not feel anything slick or sticky. "Are you okay?" First things first. Then they could worry about the open door above them.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Doc presses both palms on the ground and pulls himself into a sitting position, dragging his feet along with. His left arm is a little sore but no dislodged bones or any permanent damage done. Not even a scrape to show for it. He's not sure he can say the same for Raylan though.

"Thought I might've put your spine out." Crushed by the weight of the elephant in the shaft would have been a terrible way to go.

"Can you sit up? Anything broken?" Doc would shine his torch on Raylan in a minute, but not until he's sure where his head is. Wouldn't be nice to blind him after falling on him.

"I swear to god if that's a fat joke," he threatened weakly with a grunt as he pushed himself up and felt around for the earthen wall to lean himself against. The tunnel wasn't wide enough to avoid his boot finding Doc's, a sudden contact that Raylan wasn't mad at. It was grounding, in its own way.

He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing and minding his limbs. "Nothin' broken." Just a little shaken up. "Ladder was probably old as shit you know."

AKA - It's not your fault it broke, Doc.

"As I recall you were the one asking about our weights," he teases, holding his hat in one hand and brushing the dirt off of it with the other. He's in a good enough mood for now, but there's no guarantees how many more minutes that would last.

"I'm old as shit." But, thanks for asking about him Raylan. After adjusting his hat, Doc pulls his flashlight out, clicking it on. He shines it on Raylan's legs and torso for a couple of seconds before the light beam sweeps over down one side of the tunnel, and then the other.

"Can't see shit either," he grumbles. The light didn't reach as far as it ought to. While the tunnel seems empty save for the two of them, it's giving him a bad feeling like the museum did, in her all-consuming darkness. No spores, but. Doesn't mean they won't come upon any if they wander far enough.

"Left or right? Whenever you're ready." Up isn't really an option anymore.

"That was for science and you know it," he accused with a finger in Doc's general direction. If he'd known it would haunt him this long, he wouldn't have asked, he would have just shoved Doc onto the thing and seen for himself. "You're plenty lean enough. You're holdin' up better than that Ladder is."

Just in case that was something Doc was worried about, though Raylan didn't really think so.

Raylan let out a deep breath and cracked his eyes open again, wincing softly at the light swept over his center and dusty ass jeans. He wanted to stay right here if he couldn't go up, but Doc was right. Better they know than they don't. "Don't suppose if we yelled they'd hear us, do ya?" He sighed again, grunting as he pushed himself up to his feet, hand coming back to steady himself on the wall before reaching out to offer to help Doc up.

"That way should be towards the Gull. That way's towards town. Maybe there's another hatch up into 1306 that we can.." What, throw something at? "Maybe town's got stairs somewhere." Right then, was his vote.

Oh yeah, that's what they'll write on his gravestone. John Henry Holliday. Outlived a ladder.

"No they would just think we got drunk again drinkin' straight out the tub," Doc says, deadpan serious. Maybe he was joking? Not all that easy to tell, though. While he does push himself up off the floor, he also takes Raylan's lower arm to pull on the rest of the way up. Slapping the outsides of his thighs, Doc dusts himself off a bit before reaching over to give Raylan's sleeve a few shakes. His left hand is still smarting even when he's just doing that, but it'll be fine in a day or two.

"To town then," Doc agrees. When he was in the tunnel with Jill they should have maybe gone further into the darkness rather than towards the light. His anxiousness wouldn't allow them to. This time he is letting Raylan take the wheel. They might be more likely to find numerous ways in and out from town than going further down Phillips River anyway, even though the tunnel seems to turn long before it reaches the end of the street.

"I don't give a damn if this tunnel leads to a year's supply of Tennessee whiskey. I'd rather be stocked up and stay snowed in the house for days than come down here to get around town."

At least it won't be John Henry Holliday - murderer of and murdered by a ladder.

If Raylan had any shame about his drinking habits, that might have made him question them. That wasn't how you found normal healthy minded type people. But the idea fit and fit them. It'd fly. He couldn't let himself think about them finding them, that would lead to him thinking about where he was and that was a spiral he had enough practice avoiding. For a little while anyway.

Raylan bends down to pick up the second light, quirking a faint passing smile with a soft- "Thanks," before he nodded and started them out in that direction. Fiddling with the light, he slaps the heel of his hand on it's battery - apparently enough force to get the damned thing to flicker to life.

"I'm right there with you. No tellin' how this place is really reinforced, or how well they did at it. Listen for the wood creakin' - Just because it survived the earthquake doesn't mean it hasn't been compromised by it." There was a fraction of comfort in reviewing the facts. They weren't helpless. They had knowhow and experience.

"Here's hoping they're at least as old as the town. Maintained for a good amount of time... I'd hate to think all this was just for bootleggin'." It was a fuck ton of work for what turned out to be just over a decade. "Wonder if it predates that fire.."

"Okay." He wouldn't be as careless as when he'd descended down the ladder but he would rather they fill the silence with talk than have it be quiet enough to listen to wood creaking.

"I would've built sommin' for bootlegging if it was decent money." No telling how long such a ban would last, especially when you're two months into it and all out of cash.

"Not sure if I feel any better about being stuck in this town, even after learning all that everyone knows about it in the Town Hall." Maybe there are still crucial questions left unanswered. Maybe Henry still doesn't care after all that and just wants to focus on getting out.

Even with the talk, Raylan kept his ears tilted that way, eyes moving over the darkness outside the range of the lights uselessly. He couldn't help himself and he could already feel the curl of anxiety in his stomach.

"It'da taken you half the time to get this dug. I wonder what they did with the dirt." Easy fundamentals that didn't matter - it was something to keep his brain busy while his legs were busy pretending they were getting somewhere.

"Is there anything that would make you feel better about bein' here? I'm still chewin' over the museum. I want to check it out; What are the chances it's got a hole down here too?"

"You never know at the time, how long it's gonna last. Could've been a few years. Could've kept going for centuries." Not that Doc is really about making money and all that. He'd rather do something he enjoys, play it hard and fast. But now with- well, potentially an infinite number of lifetimes ahead of him, and people he's getting tangled up in, he probably can't afford to be that irresponsible anymore.

"Raylan. Could we not talk about the museum?" That is the very last thing that would make Doc feel better about being down here. "What part of 'it could kill ya' do you folks not understand?"

He's about to grumble about the topic some more when they come upon a crossroads, with the tunnel splitting off in three directions. Shining a light down any one of the paths isn't helping since the beams only extend so far.

"Well. This isn't what it looks like up top."

Raylan grunted a note of acknowledgement. There were a few different types of men during the time - Raylan and Doc, for all their similarities, were different ones. It was also way Raylan would have been a shit farmer. Just not his kinda work, no matter how well built for it he was.

He glanced over at the ask; yeah. Maybe not the best time to bring it up, no matter how helpful it was to his own head. Museum was not less traumatic than wells; noted. But Raylan's concern was falling into a similar line with Doc's. If there was a hatch to the museum, what was in there could spread through these tunnels and creep up into the houses while they slept.

Maybe he'd keep that to himself too.

Raylan turned his flashlight left, then right, then center. "Up top is for roads. No buildings to cut through down here. Gimme your knife," he said, hand gesturing out at him. "I'll give it right back but if we're goin' any further, we gotta mark where we came from."

There was a big hole in the roof of the museum, too. It had seemed partially collapsed in. Doc had been particularly mesmerised by the snow dancing in the light. It's likely that whatever was floating around in the museum would have escaped and spread throughout town already. The only reason Doc hasn't said too much about it is because he didn't want to send everyone panicking.

"Keep it." He hands the knife off. It doesn't do much for helping him to feel safer. He can always pick up another one and file it down if he ever gets out of this place.

"I've been telling everyone - even our multi-talented Mister Caffrey, just last night - that I'd rather Malcolm and the young ladies in town be taken care of than anyone come looking for me. Didn't think I'd be taking you with," Doc muses, clearing his throat so it doesn't sound like his voice is cracking under the strain of his fear of small, dark spaces.

"You ever been trapped in a mine? If we can talk about it." He will respect that Raylan might not want to.

"Thanks but I'll be handin' it back once we're outta here. Knives have never been much my style and I'd rather not end up with somethin' to be taken and used against me." Guns were a different story - they had to get to him first. Still, he took it and marked an large arrowhead pointing towards where they'd come from with an RG signed in at the bottom.

Always leave space to verify.

"Don't think anyone but you and Malcolm would notice me gone so I haven't bothered with that conversation. You two will do what you're supposed to." That was just as sad as anything else in his life but he'd rather have two people he can count on than be friends with everyone and it mean nothing.

Raylan didn't ask which way Doc wanted to go and opted for the left. They weren't going to be able to go far safely, but Raylan was going to have to consider coming back down and mapping this out. With company - no one should be down here alone.

He glanced over at the question. "Black Pike keeps their mining operations decent enough to avoid those, or at least avoid it bein' in the paper. I never got trapped, but I almost died in a collapse." So he's just loving being down here, as evident by the subtle liver chewing he and his tense jaw was doing. But he didn't mind talking about it or admitting it. Everyone knew the hazards of making a living in the poor country. "Boyd Crowder saved my ass. We were the last two that made it out alive. We lost two other miners that day."

He took a breath and looked over. "What'd Neal say to the instruction?"

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