001-003 » a chilling mathias welcome

[villagemod]

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: The east end of Mathias, along the waterfront.
WHEN: Days 001-003
WHAT: The newest residents of Mathias Township are welcomed with a storm.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: A small love letter from your mod. This spot can be used for plotting.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Mara"

DAY 001
THE ARRIVAL BEGINS

Is it the whooshing crash of waves on dark jagged rocks that wakes you? Perhaps. It might also be the near-continuous rumble of thunder growing closer every second, the vibrations almost seeming to come from the wet sand beneath your hands. Or maybe it’s the shivering of your own body as water recedes from the pebble-covered shore, the cold sinking into your very bones as a chilled wind picks up. It could be any of these things that rouse you from a deep slumber that leaves you feeling groggy and out of sorts--

But it’s the fear that gets you moving. A deep, intense terror grips your chest and squeezes the breath right out of you, and you know without a shred of doubt that you have mere minutes before whatever it is you’re so afraid of arrives on that stretch of rocky beach to greet you. Even if you want to stay rooted to that spot and faced it head-on, your body betrays you, a survival instinct etched into your genetic code forcing you to seek shelter.

Welcome to Mathias. You should probably run now.



THE STORM ARRIVES

When the storm crashes into the small township, it's hard to remember what life was like before it. The ocean becomes a raging thing, waves rising and falling as if trying to attack whatever they can reach along the coast. Any foolish enough to venture along the beach have no hope of surviving the encounter; their bodies will be swept out with the current, gone in the blink of an eye.

The wind is a howling beast, screaming between buildings and driving spikes of cold into any crevice it can reach. The rain is just shy of freezing, every drop like a shard of icicle trying to itself into your skin. It will bite at your nerves and leave you shaking if you stay out in it too long, so you had best get inside if you haven't already. You certainly don't want to attract the attention of the lightning that arcs in the sky like a vengeful god ready to unleash its wrath.

The Grey Gull restaurant sits at the edge of the town along the beach, and just a few yards away are two parallel rows of houses lining what might be a picturesque street if the world weren't beginning to resemble an apocalyptic landscape.

Move quickly, and choose wisely.

DAY 002
THE STORM RAGES ON

The storm has somehow become even more violent overnight. The world outside your shelter might be trapped in an endless night, for all you can see through the thick covering of storm clouds. Lightning continues to streak across the sky, thunder following almost immediately in its wake, threatening just how near those spikes of electricity truly are. You can see them touch the shore at times, even the street between the homes, but never the buildings themselves. A blessing, perhaps, or an oddity to take note of?

Some may be foolish enough to try venturing outside. They are welcome to, of course, that is their right, but the rain is still like ice and that lightning is so very near. You may try heading further into town, and you can certainly see buildings beyond this row of houses, but should you walk toward them...

Well. It is far from a pleasant experience. Exhaustion sinks into your bones so quickly that it leaves you reeling, and every second you push through it makes you physically ill with a feeling that you might collapse at any moment. The second you turn away from that path, however, you feel infinitely, and even more so each step back the way you came.

Something wants you to stay where you are. Perhaps you should.

DAY 003
THE CALM DESCENDS

The third day begins much as the second, with waves crashing upon the shore and thunder booming with such force that the ground seems to shake. It feels very much like the world might end right there, torn apart by a force of nature unlike any seen before. Any who venture outside at this time are almost immediately afflicted with a terror so intense that they can make it no more than a few yards or the short distance to cross a street before they become incapacitated by the fear that sets their heart beating dangerously fast. The term scared to death may very well become literal this day.

And then, suddenly it stops. The rain, thunder, lighting— all if it just stops and the silence that fills the night is deafening. There are no sounds of life within the town, no car motors or dogs barking or the voices of anyone beside those new arrivals in the immediate vicinity. In fact, none of those things even exist in Mathias. There are no cars, no animals or insects, no other people. There is just... emptiness and silence.

It may be best to wait until daylight to move further inland.



THE NIGHT DARKENS

For those who are foolish enough to leave the relative safety of the cluster of houses near the Grey Gull, they will find their journey quite chilling, in a very literal sense. There is another row of houses beyond where they had been, branching off on either side into a neighborhood. There are no lights on in any of these homes, though there are occasional streetlights illuminating their way. But as they continue further, reaching a third block of houses, those lights begin to dim, until they have gone out completely, and what had previously been a simple fall chill becomes biting cold as the temperature sharply drops.

In all of this, there is silence. No sounds travel through that night air to comfort them, and even looking up to the sky stretched out above them offers little reassurance. That sky is black, without a single star and not even the faintest outline of the moon to guide them. All that reaches them here is the barest hint of light traveling from the way they've come. The longer they linger outside in this place, the colder it will become, and any light they carry with them will slowly begin to dim as well.

Truly, they should have waited until the sun rose once more.

---

LOCATIONS

THE GREY GULL is what one might expect of the most frequented restaurant in a small coastal town. The wrap-around porch is lined with white chairs characterized by peeling paint. Exposed wooden walls and worn seating speak to its many years of existence, and the mishmash of décor confirms that the owner never much cared for how the place looked. What mattered here was the food, and faded chalk menus advertise soup specials and a daily pie. The bar appears to have once been well-stocked, but all the bottles remaining are unfortunately empty. There is, however, quite a bit of food in the kitchen that is somehow as fresh as if it were purchased that day.

The second floor of the restaurant is a sparsely furnished apartment. There are no personal items to be found; perhaps it was waiting to be rented out to someone.

THE HOUSES are well-kept, middle-class homes, four lining either side of the street. Their doors are unlocked, windows unshuttered, and everything within feels like the owners might return at any second. There is running water and electricity, fresh food in the fridge, photographs on the wall... but also dust everywhere. If you didn't know better, you'd say the place had been abandoned for years, and yet nothing has aged. It is both strange and unsettling, and yet no matter how hard you search, no answers may be found within these homes.

What can be found within them, however, is a phone. One single black phone within a main room of the house, and beside it, a list of handwritten numbers and names that have been crossed out.

1302 8-5491 Thomasen
1304 8-9256 Lyrie
1306 8-4712 Anders
1308 8-3201 Mulcalley

1301 8-0415 Sanderson
1303 8-6762 Reese
1305 8-9132 Evers
1307 8-9025 Hirano

Should your character choose to shelter in one of the houses, you are welcome to choose the features of that particular unit. Please reply to the comment thread below with the details you decide upon, specifying the house number in the subject line.

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Comments

Grey Gull - Let me know if I need to adjust anything!

[tinstar]

Raylan was looking for a place to dry off. The cup of coffee in his gut was a step in the right direction, but he knew enough about being wet that dry clothes were something to be concerned with and he was working on one thing at a time. So he went looking for the oven. The longer black jacket he wore was fisted at the middle as he tugged the tie open from his dark red subtly patterned button up, empty gun holster and star badge next to it swaying with the way he ambled in, all dripping wet.

"Not a single fuckin' bottle," he swore under his breath, already having put the bar stock to a very through but very disappointing check. "I swear to god if I have to start thinkin' about moonshine recipes, I'm going to shoot something." Well. As soon as he found a gun. Priority number one, if he was being realistic, but a stiff drink was waging a serious war for top spot with the rolling tension that still sat in the back of his head and the bottom of his stomach.

It was almost a shame that drinking was his only real vice; he might have more options.

this is PERFECT

[hellblaze]

"Can't say I haven't thought the same, mate."

John was leaning against the door frame. At this point the trenchcoat was hanging off one arm while he tried to wring out some of his clothing. Bloody sea water. How the hell had he end up on a beach anyways? And why was it that there was no alcohol in this damn restaurant? Did the mums all get together and swear an oath to clean up the town and make it sober?

"Although I've always been a horrible shot. Might be better if I just punch something."

Except he was horrible at fighting as well.

[tinstar]

Raylan glanced over at the voice, only a little surprised to see someone here. Guess he and Daisy weren't the only ones. That almost made him feel a little better. Draping his jacket over a chair, to follow with his soaked stetson getting dropped on the small table in front of it, Raylan huffed a breath of amusement.

"Might break your fist then and couldn't shoot if you needed to," he replied, full with southern drawl. Walking over to the over, he started fiddling with knobs, seeing if he could get the thing to turn on. "At least you might get lucky with a shot, not have to use your fists in the first place.." Ah! There. Raylan clicked on what he hoped was the griddle and straightened to look over properly.

"Course, we'd have to find a gun or someone responsible to punch first, if you got any ideas."

[hellblaze]

"Better the fist than the ego, eh?" He grinned.

Well, look there. He left New Orleans and somehow still found someone with that Southern drawl. The world always did like to laugh at his expense.

He watched the man walk by as he dug out his wet bunch of cigarettes. John sighed, rolling his eyes as he realized they were completely soaked through. Of course. That meant his lighter was absolutely useless at the moment too.

"The person, persons, or other entity that might be responsible will take some work. Something I'd make a priority once the bloody storm dies down." He fished out his lighter and started to look it over for damage. "My guess is guns, ammunition, and the grocery store are farther inland. Now, the better question is,"

He took a few steps forward as he continued to inspect his lighter. "Is any of this considered theft or breaking-and-entering? I dunno about you, mate, but I'd rather avoid jail time if I can. Can't say I'm too fond of them."

[tinstar]

Raylan cocked a smirk at him in return. "I'd rather take the shot to the ego," he admitted. Ego blows he could handle; people close to him had been proverbially kicking him around most of his life so a blow from someone he didn't know at all didn't bother him in the slightest. Breaking a knuckle? Not if he could help it.

Not being a smoker, Raylan couldn't help with the lighter or the cigarettes, but he could watch with a faint amusement, pulling out a chair to pull off his boots so he could get his socks and drape them onto the warming griddle. He'd be less amused if he still had his gun and the whole kit was useless due to water.

Raylan had to chuckle at the question posed. Jail was the least of his personal concerns at the moment. "Considerin' our extenuating circumstances, we've got plenty of room to argue it in court, if there even is one. The dust around here tells me it's all abandoned. No one left to give a shit, either way. But the doors were open and it's a restaurant. Hardly B&E." John might notice the silver star on his belt.

"Unless they're all inland too. Sooner we find those, better off we'll be." Couldn't argue that. "You seen a lotta the inside of jail, I'm guessin'?"

[hellblaze]

Something else to have in common with the chainsmoker who had moved to the counter. He placed the lighter upside down, wheel against the counter, and started moving it back and forth. Priorities! They'd need another source of fire, and well, he'd need to light up once he found some replacements.

"They certainly cared enough to take the bloody alcohol with them." John muttered in annoyance, tilting his head as he moved the lighter some more. "More than I would of liked as of late. Who would of thought the Southern bit of America was all for locking a bloke up?"

Ignoring how he probably deserved it all.

He looked around the room. Once he felt a little less drowned he'd be investigating the pictures hanging around. Maybe he'd get a good idea on what sort of town this was once.

[tinstar]

"Likely in their stomachs - why leave the bottles? Musta been a hellva a party. That or supply lines don't come this way often." He hadn't decided which yet - he'd only seen two rooms and no matter how sharp of an eye he had, it wasn't enough information.

Raylan kept his crooked smile, bobbing his head and eyebrows in concession. "We might have a habit of it, but most of the time, we tend to have a reason. Depends on what you did. 'Course, I'm Marshal's service. We only care about federal crimes and I'm officially off duty til I know where the nearest office is. Don't worry; I won't ask."

[hellblaze]

"That or they haven't had any in a good long time and it's just for show. Soccer mums probably got to it all." He grunted.

He flicked the wheel of the lighter after giving it a shake. Abraka-fucking-dabra, there was light. Perfect. An ironic smirk popped across his face. He killed the flame and rolled the lighter in his fingers before setting it down. Then he reached up and pulled off his tie, twisting it over the counter to wring it out. Not that he much cared if it got water all over the place.

"Oh, well, good news for you then. It was local issues." He glanced up with a wicked grin. "Doubt it'd much matter anyways. Water under the bridge. I was on my way up from Louisiana when this bloody happened."

[tinstar]

"Sure. Curse of the HoA." If only he could even start to believe that it was something as innocent as Pushy Mothers who Cared Too Much.

As awkward as it was, Raylan had to get his shirts off, unbuttoning it at the wrists before moving to the line down his chest. Peeling it off left him in a ribbed undershirt that he pulled off and wrung out as he continued talking.

"Give 'em hell for all I care," he said with a smirk, very nearly apathetic on local cops. Why should Harlan be the only one cursed with men of chaos? Raylan pulled the wet undershirt back on with a shiver as he started work on the overshirt. "Lexington, Kentucky. Less gators but just as much shit, might as well be the same. No offense to Louisiana." Except.. not.

"Since I don't see any way we're gettin' a bus to an actual hotel or somethin' here, I suppose we oughta get introductions out of the way. Raylan Givens," he said, wringing the water out in front of him.

He did not care if water got all over the place; they were all dripping like sives anyway.

[hellblaze]

Given the layer of dust? People either left the establishment quickly or they were disappeared. He figured if they had the time to leave? They'd take all that important merchandise with them. Why would John Constantine be lucky enough to have something nice waiting for him after some sort of abduction?

Awkward for Raylan, but John had no shame. He could care less what the other person in the room would of thought. Not that he was bucking to dress down entirely naked in a setting he didn't know. Tie, shirt, socks? He'd suffer with the wet pants for now. Off went the shoes and socks next, following the trend with the tie. Didn't much matter to him if they got dirty laying on the dust either. He'd been in worse situations.

Which meant exploring an abandoned restaurant barefoot and topless? More likely than someone would think.

"Dealt with his occult case, including getting rid of the ghosts out making the murders." John didn't intend to get into the gritty details of that case. "Oh, well, I'm not from Louisiana. Give all the offense you'd like. Bloody voodoo magic."

He turned his head to look at the other man with a smirk. "John Constantine. Occult detective, exorcist and ah, peddy dabbler of the Dark Arts."

Raylan had given his job title already. Might of well get all the annoying questions and disbelief out of the way now.

[tinstar]

"No? And here I thought the accent told it all." For all his own accent might suggest, Raylan had been around the world a bit. Finding a rack to drape his overshirt off of, Raylan arched an eyebrow as he pulled off his holster to set up next to it.

Ghosts? Magic? Sure, and he was the pope.

"I'll let you know if I find any sage or crystals," he continued with the same dry air of amused sarcasm as he stepped over to turn his socks on the griddle. The dust actually almost helped keep some of the darker food gunk on the metal itself somewhat separated from his socks. "Or call you if Linda Blair pops up outta one of these closets."

Did he doubt that John still did that as a job? No, but scams run wide and creative where he came from. This was counted as unique, but maybe not that different.

"Lemme ask you somethin'," he asked, right horseshoe ringed hand gesturing out to loosely point at John. "What defines 'petty dabbler'? Just.. lightin' a candle or do you gotta say some words over it or somethin'." His hand swirled a little with the words before hanging there. Sorry, he was a gestury kind of man.

[hellblaze]

There is a chuckle then. He won't give away where he's from or any of those pesky personal details unless asked. England born and traveling around America is good enough for him. He slips off his shirt next to start wringing that out over the counter. He had an arrange of tattoos on his upper body, all for different things and different meanings. Magical wards and the what not.

"Ha, Blair Witch. Funny, that." He rolls his eyes slightly. There's a tone to him that says he is all too used to people making similar comments. "Means I go through all the sources of magic, not just the Dark Arts. Bit of ancient cultures, bit of that oh so forbidden things. Candles you only use when you need for a circle. Crystals? Best for amplifying."

He gives a shake to his shirt and then put its out to lay down on the counter with the tie and socks. Then he puts his hands on his hips and turns to look at Raylan. "Dark Arts only get you so far. Not every entity out there is going to respond to it. Most the time you need to find the right culture - right language to do what you need to do with them. Especially the ancient ones."

[tinstar]

"Was goin' more for The Exorcist. Never saw Blair Witch. That kinda horror isn't really my thing." Raylan eyed the tattoos, the strange symbols and bits of unreadable script, but had no judgement for them. At least they weren't like Boyd's - not a swastika in sight.

Leaning with one hand on the rack, the other propping on his hip, Raylan listened with slightly squinted eyes.

"You really believe this stuff, don't 'cha?" It wasn't condescending or demeaning in tone, just quietly surprised at the dedication to spinning the tale. "So when you say Occult Detective, you're like what, a ghost whisperer?"

[hellblaze]

"Never saw either movie." John shrugs. "Though, exorcisms usually aren't every pretty."

His demeanor changes at that. All the fun and lightheartedness in his tone drops and he looks to the side. A few good exorcisms never quite make up for the one bad one that goes to the wayside. Especially when the net result is a failure and your soul damned to Hell.

"I live it, mate. Believing and knowing become a bit different after that. More like I look into the cases that are strange or unusual that normal means can't solve - or things that just deal with the occult." He glances up at the ceiling with a bit of a sneer on his face. "Like finding yourself randomly on the beach of a dodgy New England town in the middle of a storm when you were somewhere else before then."

[tinstar]

"You're battin' more than I am in that department." Raylan didn't really care if John believed it or not, lookin' at the big picture. He'd dealt with 'psychics' before - disproving it or asking for proof of that kind of thing was more effort than it was worth with no gain beyond being right. Served no real purpose.

He also recognized guilt and regret, though it didn't speak to how deep it might go, or how many bodies it might include. They weren't going to talk about that, lest he be questioned in return.

"Were you awake when you dropped into the ocean, or you just wake up treading water?"

[hellblaze]

"Most shouldn't bat in it at all. This sort of life leaves it's mark on you." There is a click against his teeth and a final shrug then. He's learned that people will believe or not, but that doesn't change reality or truth.

John runs his hands through his still wet hair, deciding that now he doesn't just want to stand about in the kitchen talking. That itch to get something done is gnawing at him. Sitting around and socializing is great and all - especially when he's half-naked - but he has the need to focus on something else. Otherwise his mind will just throw itself back to New Orleans, and he doesn't want to dwell on how evil humanity really can be.

"Woke up with the waves hitting me." His answer comes quick as he is already moving from the counter and on his way out of the kitchen. Barefoot, no shirt, he's had worse ideas. "Before that I was under a bit of an overpass watching it rain."

[tinstar]

Few walks of life that headed down a hard road didn't, but Raylan wasn't dumb or arrogant enough to think he knew what John was talking about. That's where the details mattered. And right now? No Whiskey, no details.

"I suppose damp to wet isn't as jarring as standin' to swimmin'," he commented, curious enough as to where John was going that he plucked his socks off the griddle and tossed them on the table before ambling after him. When someone moved with purpose, he couldn't help himself.

"Then again, sittin' to swimmin' ain't exactly a great ride itself." He watched John move around for a few seconds. "What're you lookin' for, if you don't mind my askin'."

[hellblaze]

"Suppose not. Although, I was face down on the beach. I've had better binges I can't remember." He glances around to see if others around before taking note of where they are in the restaurant.

Bathrooms, seating area, bar. Stairs that go up - interesting note. But now, if he was an owner of a 'fine' establishment and wanted a secret stash to himself... John smirks to himself and keeps walking until he finds what looks like an office door. The feeling of the dust on his feet isn't the best, but, he'll suffer through it if he can find anything in this place that will help dull his irritation at the situation.

"Anything, really." John puts his shoulder to the door and pushes it open, giving a cough at the dust that kicks up at the revealed room. "Hidden stash of alcohol would be a good place to start. Although, I'll take whatever might explain where we've ended up."

[tinstar]

"And here I was only a beer in," he said, only half under his breath, eyes more interested in the stairs than anything else. Place like this? Raylan would bet an apartment, likely not dissimilar to one he'd end up in one day.

With no answers of his own and nothing to do but move around to stay not frozen, Raylan continued following John, hands shoved into his wet jean pockets as he tried to touch as little as possible. Dust stuck and frankly, he wasn't looking to be any more uncomfortable. His feet though? Eh, some things had to be done.

"Somehow, I got a feeling that if we find any bottles, they'll be as empty as ones out there. Which equally makes no goddamned sense," he said as he peered into the room, following in once John did.

"Busy lookin' place," he commented to the office as he started wandering around it's parameter, flipping through the stacks of coffee marred paper. "Guess they left in October, though that doesn't do much to tellin' us when now is," he said with a finger pointing at the calendar.

[hellblaze]

"Bloody soccer mums."

That was his explanation for now and he was sticking to it. They needed a bit of a laugh now. Well, he needed a laugh and a good way to forget the last forty-two hours. Neither which he had at the moment.

He steps into the office and looks around. It almost seems dustier in this room than the rest of the damn building. He takes note of the ledgers, flipping through them. Oh, sure, a list of how much pounds of food or how many crates of liquor at one point, but...

"Dates and names have been smudged out." He holds up a few of the papers, handing them over to his current companion to take a look. "I'm guessing they must of developed an allergy to dates and names before the dust settled in."

Might of left in October, that was a better start than none. As long as it had nothing to do with the bloody moon cycle that he was dealing with before he came here? Right as rain. Although, now that he thought about it? It was something to consider and look into. Then, John leans over the desk and opens the large bottom drawer. He pulls out another stack of papers and flips through them.

"Here we are. Mathias Township. Don't suppose that name rings a bell for a town on your side of the pond." John flips through a few of the papers. Then he puts a set of them down on the desk as he looks at the paper remaining in his hand.

[tinstar]

Raylan scoffed. He didn't support the theory, but he wasn't going to argue it - it was amusing and he could take some amusing. He fingered through another few stacks of papers as John does the same, turning to take the papers and look over them.

"They moved a lot stuff in and out. Nothin' interestin' but we got a supplier. Maybe they'll be in town, have broader records." He discarded all the papers but one that had the supplier's name, peering over as John picked through some more.

"No. but it sounds northeastern. A state would be more helpful." But he couldn't spot one on the paper and clucked his teeth. "Figure out what coast we're on.. what about the top drawer?"

[hellblaze]

"No state, no addresses..." He holds up the paper in his hand. "Found one name though. Mathias Fishing Company. Bit early in the night to start fish jokes, innit?"

Northeastern. That's a far cry from where both of them had been. Though it's a better guess than anything at the moment, so John doesn't see why not to agree with it. Raylan's question is met with his eyebrows turning up. He properly walks around the desk to look for the handle of the top draw and gives it a nice good firm tug.

Then another.

And another.

"Oh, of bloody course." He sighs. "Left my pickpocket contraption in my other trenchcoat too."

John puts the paper down and starts looking for something he can use to try and pick the lock. It's completely childish, he knows. There might be nothing in that drawer. Then again if there's nothing worth locking up then why lock it in the first place? Right now it is something he can focus on and thats enough for him.

[tinstar]

"If it ain't too early for whores to start workin'," he replied casually, picking his way through the papers on the desk before abandoning it to walk around, hazel gaze on the floor now, looking to see if there was anything to be seen. With nearly nothing on the walls and considering the general wealth or lack there of that the place exudes, he doubted there was a wall safe.

"Don't places like this normally have a safe or a vault? Put their deposit in to keep safe? Though I'm doubtin' we'd get into that either," he said, looking over at John's attempts to jerk the door open.

"Shame they don't have a crowbar around. It'd make that easier." Lockpicker, huh? "So you just a lock enthusiast or you got somethin' against locked doors."

[hellblaze]

John can't help the snort and laugh that comes out that. "The Marshall has a sense of humor. That's good. Makes the uneasiness of the night go a bit quicker."

He tilts his head at the piece of paper again before folding it and tucking it between his skin and belt on his backside. He'll keep that for reference later. Might just be a fishing company, but, the more information he can find? The better. Maybe they've just pissed off their local fishing deity or the mermaids and need to make them happy and it'll all sort itself out. As long as none of them turn to sea foam or demand a voice as payment.

"May not have it in the office. Might be closer to the register or somewhere else." John looks up at Raylan with a shrug. "I find that my career takes me to places that aren't strictly for the public. I mentioned the bit about the jail time, didn't I?"

[tinstar]

He bobbed his head, cocking one eyebrow with it. He tried. Made everything a little easier to swallow, if you could find the irony. It was the only way he survived and he needed it now more than ever.

"You did but jail comes for all sorts of reasons. Fraud, theft of various types, murder, kidnappin'.. Without a record to read, the mind does wander." He leaned on one of the filing cabinets, using the time to lazily shift through more papers, hoping but not thinking he'd find anything worthwhile. Shipping invoices only did so much.

"Can't help but ask, considerin' that you're stuck here with us. Or us with you, I haven't decided yet."