The Village Mod (
villagemod) wrote in
villagelogs2020-10-03 08:52 pm
Entry tags:
- *overview log,
- doc holliday (wynonna earp),
- ellie (the last of us),
- raylan givens (justified),
- ~ claire novak (supernatural),
- ~ daisy johnson (marvel live action),
- ~ jill valentine (resident evil),
- ~ john constantine (dc live action),
- ~ kylo ren (star wars),
- ~ max guevara (dark angel),
- ~ number five (the umbrella academy),
- ~ phil coulson (marvel live action),
- ~ rey (star wars)
001-003 » a chilling mathias welcome
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"




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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 8-5491Thomasen
1304 8-9256Lyrie
1306 8-4712Anders
1308 8-3201Mulcalley
1301 8-0415Sanderson
1303 8-6762Reese
1305 8-9132Evers
1307 8-9025Hirano
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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Whatever he was expecting to happen, it wasn't a recitation like that, and it certainly did not involve actual smoke and mirrors. He clutches onto his hat, clearly bewildered by the display but watching on in silence and partly in awe as phantoms flit about the kitchen. They don't look real enough to be but they definitely paint a convincing picture of the Mulcalleys.
Doc's gaze softens at the girls walking past him. They were real once, even if they are not real now. He reaches out towards the one closest to him, but she vanishes in a flash and reappears somewhere else, mid-walk, mid-sentence, mid-turning her head. The non sequitur replay doesn't faze him too much, he can make sense of what is happening and rearrange things in his head easily enough.
It still doesn't tell them what exactly happened, but maybe Doc and Constantine need to focus on what it does tell them.
"A morning like any other... they did not see it coming. Whatever 'it' is." Doc starts briskly towards the door, taking a quick peek outside, though unfortunately the vision or smoke or whatever witchcraft this is doesn't seem to extend to what's happening outside the house.
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Mum, Pops, grandparents, and daughters. Daughters -- twins by the looks of it. His demeanor shifts then. Two little girls that got whisked up in whatever the hell had gone down in this town. Probably dead, forgotten to time, their souls only fuck knows where. It feels like a kick to his own bollocks and icy hands grabbing at his heart to give him one painful fucking reminder of the girl that is suffering Hell because of him.
"And it doesn't seem like 'It' wasn't localized in the house." John agrees, watching as Doc walks out of sight. "Might be a good idea to check out the Grey Gull then. We might find more clues."
He waves his hand to dismiss the vapors with the intent of giving them a merry thanks for participating and indulging in his little spell. That's when he feels an actual punch to the chest. Not the sort that some spooky disembodied boogeyman. No, it's more like all the air is sucked out of his lungs, and he's down on his knees gasping to get his breath back. Then the next wave hits him: exhaustion. Arms and shoulders feel heavy, and one hand hits the inside of his magical circle to keep himself up right.
"What the--" John can't really finish the rest of the sentence as he's still gasping.
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"Will you be needing all th-mister Constantine?" Doc cuts himself off and hurries over, not really knowing or caring whether he's inside or outside the circle when he crouches down to put a heavy hand on the other man's shoulder. His other hand looks for a hip or waist or somewhere steady to hold onto.
Putting out all the candles as quickly as he can, Doc gets John to sit with a slight lean forward and reaches over to pop open a few buttons at the top of the magician's shirt. He's not actually the kind of doctor who would be of much use in this current situation, but there's no one else they can rely on right now.
"Constantine," he repeats in a concerned, if slightly frustrated tone. What happened? Is this affliction of a magical nature? Doc's not sure if a steady but firm backrub is all that is required for the moment, but he does give the blond an additional few pats on the back. "Easy now. Just breathe."
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"M'fine, mate. Not to worry." A few minutes later and a cough to be included, he shakes his head and puffs out his cheeks. "Just been a while since a spell as little as this knocked me properly on my arse. Should of been easy, really. Especially with my level of expertise."
Expertise being code word for 'I know a lot of bloody stuff, but, don't necessarily use it the right way.' Or, using them for his own gain, as opposed to being respectful and the what not.
"Something in this town doesn't want its secrets known..." A sigh and he leans back on his heels. "Which makes me want to poke around a bit more."
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"Perhaps you should take things a little easy on yourself for a while, mister Constantine," Doc suggests gently. "Just for a few hours, and I will keep watch. I doubt we will be seeing these people return before then. You will want to be rested and ready before you start poking anything at the restaurant."
When John seems fine and steady on his own, Doc leaves his side briefly to fetch some warm water and drops a small cloth into it, wringing it out and offering it to Constantine to clean himself up a bit with.
"Was that... yellow tube all you have had to eat?" Yes, there is an unspoken offer implicit in that question. No, it's not a date.
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Bloody hell.
It feels like his arms and legs are full of led. Then he rubs at his forehead and picks each candle up, one by one, blowing them out. He mutters a thanks to whatever energies reside still in the house. One fell swoop of his hand later, he breaks the circle to close off the little ritual. He'll have to clean up once he feels he can stand up. Which, he feels like he can't at the moment.
Thus, John Constantine takes a proper seat on the floor, arms draped over his bent knees as he tries to regain himself. There's something real nasty in this town. He's got no idea what, but he can feel it in his bones.
"Might save the restaurant bit for another day." He raises his eyebrows and looks over at the other man with a grin. Not a date, huh? "Add it to my ever growing list of things to go poking with a big ol' stick that I shouldn't."
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"Eat. And rest." Doc would probably have better luck looking after a puppy, honestly.
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John Constantine Will Remember This.
"What's next for you then? Continuing the houses down the line?"
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"I may stay a while." He has only just showered. And maybe he wants to keep a wary eye on Constantine before he accidentally animates the lawn gnomes and godzillafy the flamingos or something. "If that is alright with you of course."
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"I am partial to the couch." Seeing as he'd crashed on it earlier. Doc isn't so unsettling as to be watching over John like a gargoyle.
"Holler if you need anything," he offers with a tilt of his head and a tight-lipped smile.
no subject
Ah well, he'll eat in a bit. For now? Time to do some reflecting on all the bits he's put together so far.