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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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?"

"Alright. But I don't think anyone here would do that." Still, if it doesn't make him feel more comfortable with it, no point having it. Doc's used the knife for all sorts of reasons, none of them against other people, but you never know. When things go to shits they turn fast.

He follows Raylan down the left side, shining his light ahead, for what little good it does them. He's never asked Raylan much about Boyd. Now doesn't seem like the time and place for it. They need a porch with a lot more moonshine than what he's packing in his hip flask.

"He courteously and politely told me where to shove it." But Doc wouldn't hold out hope either way. Looking out for Malcolm was the right thing to do. And he really was living on borrowed time. None of what he'd said was a lie.

"We're not gon' die here." Saying it don't make it true but hell, not saying it would make his brave façade start slipping. "There has to be a way out. This kind of thing would have happened before."

Men were strange beasts when caged, two of them had been attacked already; no - no chances being taken under the White Hat. He'd seen too much of the ugliness of man to be that naieve.

Raylan smirked. "I knew he was alright." That was, after all, the correct answer.

All he could do in response to the last was take a deep uneven breath and keep his beam moving. He couldn't think about dying down here, that was too far a straw. "Hard to reinforce against earthquakes. Even a soft rumble can damage the supports. There's no sustainable way to keep these things up. Let's.." Not talk about cave ins, please. He can talk about the past, but not allude it to the now. "You see that?" He turned his light towards a dip in the wall and headed towards it, pointing the light up.

"Another hatch."

Well there hasn't been any aftershocks yet. But if he says that aloud there is bound to be some. And he would lose his shit if Raylan didn't. He's already deeply uncomfortable down here, too aware of how hard he's breathing and how his heart is racing.

"Right," he says, following Raylan's eyeline up, the hand not holding the torch seated on his hip.

"Not sure you could reach it, even on my shoulders. Where do you think we're under?"

No, better to not mention them. Running in the dark was a bad idea.

"Don't matter much. It's not a way out." He sighed heavily and turned his light back down the tunnel way before looking back at where they'd come from. He didn't want to go any further. Getting lost down here would be just as bad as anything else and Raylan was already itching to have open sky above him again. Nothing good was going to happen down here.

"Next juncture we hit, we gotta go back. This isn't somethin' to be done by two people. This is somethin' to be done by everyone, maybe at the same time. Save a few uptop in case things happen." Things always happened. "C'mon," he said, nudging Doc with his elbow as he started pace again. "One of these has to have a functioning ladder. Whether we're the ones that find it or not.."

He wasn't going to think about what they were going to do until they had to do it.

"Mmmnnh I am not so sure I would be jumping at the opportunity to return here," Doc says after clearing his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, following a little too closely to Raylan. He would happily volunteer to assist from up top. Maybe he's not cut out to be down bottom after all. Every little noise is making his hair stand on end.

"Not quite how you pictured getting me alone, hm?" he jokes with a laugh that echoes almost eerily down the empty tunnel. Maybe empty is better than perturbing mirror phantoms but shit, he still doesn't like it.

"Not... quite... what I was. Picturing, either." Doc checks back over his shoulder for the umpteenth time, sweeping his light across his side of the tunnel frequently. He's eaten rats. There was little else to eat when he was trapped. At least he would feel somehow less uneasy with the company of rats, or just the sound of their scampering little feet. But they are in a town where rats and cockroaches fear to tread.

At the sound of something dripping - snow or ice melting, most likely, but he isn't in a rational state of mind right now - Doc freezes and grabs Raylan's arm just above the wrist, clammy hand gripping tight enough to leave angry red welts between his fingers, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"We should turn back."

Neither of them would be jumping. It was something Raylan would gladly leave to the others, he'd happily take post up top and run a rescue operation than be in one. But wouldn't they all. "The others can do it," he replied evenly, trying his damnest to keep his voice and tone level and casual.

"Not quite," Raylan answered dryly. His humor was dry and Dad level dumb on the best of days; no room for laughter or levity down here. Rats didn't even spring to mind - he expected to find no life down here. Nothing to eat, nothing to sustain them. It was the only comfort there was, something expected.

What wasn't expected was the sudden and almost painful grip of his wrist and Raylan jumped with an equally sharp inhale, head swiveling too fast over to Doc and belying all the work he'd done to pretend it was all under control. His brain supplemented the Shadow Man springing up from the walls to assault them but it was just Doc. The shot of the start, the adrenaline pumping through him kicked what was left of his rational closer to the storm drain of panic. Letting out an uneven breath he nodded and looked down.

"Do I get to keep some blood flow in my hand? Shirt's just as good to keep you anchored. C'mon," he said, turning and heading back the other way, regardless of if Doc let go of him or not. He wasn't going to say no, not with them in the state of mind they were in. Not when he was having to work his empty hand anxiously in and out of a fist.

Ah shit. Raylan was freaking out. Well they can't both be freaking out. What're they going to do? Well that depends on how long they're going to be down here, won't it? Doc let go and raises his hand, flexing it, mumbling a quiet apology as he pulls his hand back, keeps it to himself and does a 180 straight back the way they came from. He's walking briskly now, with purpose, back the way they came from or at least he thinks he is but really he just ends up following Raylan because he's not too sure himself. Nothing looks familiar in the dark.

When they get back to a more open area, Doc clicks his torch off and holsters it, thinking maybe he should conserve the battery since Raylan's using his. He starts pacing, back and forth like a restless dog. He's got matches. Cigarettes. They could start a fire to keep warm if they need to. Won't be easy with no kindling though, and the pieces of the ladder are too damp from being used to hang clothes to burn properly. There's water, somewhere. They'd be fine for. Days. Are they gonna be here for days? Shit. What if there are spores. Just floating down the tunnels like in the museum. Are they gonna eat each other? Jesus H Christ.

He doesn't realise he's panting hard and pressing the heels of his palms right up against his eyes until he starts dragging his hands down his face, pausing with his hands covering his moustache and mouth. He doesn't have to worry about not being able to do this if they die here. But that might take longer than he would like.

His hands slide down over his back pockets. Maybe they should have pressed on. Nobody's coming. Nobody's even- looking. Doc starts heading back towards the three way fork in the path. He thought he might have said something aloud through all of this. He didn't. It's just stress popping off a dozen disparate thoughts in his head. He can't stay focused on working towards a way out. He's worried about Malcolm. And who's going to check on Ellie? And those books are going to be very overdue. And Lord have mercy on whoever goes into 1307 if they've never tried to make moonshine before.

Doc was falling apart. Every second they were down here, Raylan knew it would get worse. Shit he swore to himself for the hundredth time since they'd fallen. How long ago had that been? Couldn't have been but a half hour - not long enough for anyone to notice they were gone. Could have been longer. Raylan pushed those thoughts away and followed Doc until he ended up in front somehow and at their first junction, he turned them right, shining his light on the mark he'd made to be sure.

But something up top had changed; there was no shift in the light where the door should have been and when Raylan turned his light up, he could see the bottom of the door. If it hadn't been for the door distracting him, Raylan would be pacing too, but he's stuck in the creeping fear up his spine. Were they going to have to explore the tunnels with shitty light equipment, no way to map, no way to ensure they came back to where they started? Doc had just said they weren't going to die down here. Now Raylan was doubting it.

But doubting could wait - the panting coming from Doc as he spirals is more than enough for Raylan to turn his light onto Doc's midsection as the man strode away.

"Hey," Raylan started, jogging forward to grab Doc's arm and tug him to a gentle stop, bending fractionally to set the light down so he could get both hands on Doc's shoulders. "Hey. Deep breaths. One step at a time okay. You said we're not gonna die down here, so let's not prove you wrong by chargin' into the dark. I need a minute. You need a minute. Don't you dare leave me here by myself."

No, he did say that, but truth be told, he'd rather die down here than live down here. He can't do this again. And he knows no one's coming, not because it's some kind of internalised helplessness, but because the house knows. He goes off on his own. Snoozes in his makeshift hammock by the willow trees where Malcolm's screams can't reach him. Goes all over town, here, there, everywhere, meets strangers and fast friends alike. Ends up getting caught up in someone else's problem. Maybe someone's gone missing and he's offered to help go looking. Maybe it's Fashion Disaster Thursday and Doc is holding bags of unpaid purchases outside Poe's finest flannel selection. Maybe he's still figuring out how to make a birthday cake in the library. In any case it's normal for him to not return until it's drinking hour with some canned fish and chickpeas and a jar of prunes that nobody wanted from the General Store that day. Nobody knows. Nobody's looking.

"Okay," Doc mutters seemingly in agreement but with his eyes downcast and the way he nods a few times it is apparent that he doesn't know what he is agreeing to. At least Raylan has gotten him to stop, but there's no guarantees that he would just stay there for long. He needs to find a way out. Dig with his bare hands if he has to.

"We are on our own." At least he's communicative, and still using his inside voice. The meltdown might have started but he's still coherent. "We needa keep movin'."

"We're not stoppin'. We're thinkin'," Raylan assured. No there was no way he was going to be able to stay in one spot. Sitting down was not an option for him. That would lead to giving up and Raylan was not broken enough to have given that up yet. Focusing on Doc, focusing on the problem, that was the only thing saving him right now. They still had options.

"We'll head the other way. Maybe it won't branch. Lead us right to the Gull. No way this doesn't extend out to the beach somehow, somewhere." He gripped Doc's shoulders tightly for a second before clapping one and bending to reclaim his light. He didn't think about why when he put a hand on Doc's elbow but if he did, it would be a revelation that he was fucking terrified that they were going to be stuck sitting down here.

"We'll find our own way out." His breathing was coming a little heavier as his brain tried desperately to not think about how unlikely it was that they would be found, even if anyone knew to start looking. That trap door blended well with the flooring and they both had their habits. It wasn't even terribly late at night which left them with far too much time.

It's not as bad this second time around. He thinks he knows what to expect now. And Raylan is here. He doesn't expect that Raylan has all the answers or knows what to do but having someone else here, even if it risks them witnessing him panic over something so trivial and irrational that it shouldn't really bother him, means he hasn't done anything stupid so far. He also doesn't have to talk to or entertain himself for the foreseeable future.

"Never looked at the Gull all that closely," Doc admitted as they start walking the other way. Doing something feels better than doing nothing even if they are just wasting their time and their energy.

"Too busy tryin'a figure out a can opener." Stabbing through the lid with a serious hunting knife wasn't really an option.

"This town used to be so simple, when we first got here."

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