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

[hellblaze]

John glances at the butter knife and smiles. "Bit dull, but, suppose it might do well to torture someone if you're feeling particularly nasty."

'Good sir'? The cowboy look isn't just a look then, is it? Bit old fashioned. Then again he ran into that marshal earlier. Both of them are good looking chaps. John tilts his head, supposing that is a positive. Being stuck in a apparent abandoned town with two good looking blokes in cowboy hats. Huh. The world gets stranger every day.

"Well, it's not really my house, is it?" John cracks a grin at the comment. "Usually within the first ten to twenty minutes, mate. But, after two days of being in wet clothes and smelling like the ocean? I figure offering a shower to any sorry sod is a generous offer."

[thering]

"Much obliged." Said sorry sod hovers dangerously close for two very long seconds, close enough to bump the rim of his hat against the other man's forehead if he'd moved his head, before reaching up to tip his hat with a graze of his finger and ghosting past him to head up the stairs.

Much as Doc would have liked to explore the place a little bit more, it's a little awkward to do it with company, and he figures it can wait until after he's taken up the offer of the shower. He pokes his head into the well lit bathroom and glances half over his shoulder before closing the door almost fully behind him, leaving it slightly ajar. It's not actually an invitation; he just wants to be able to hear what's going on outside in case there's unexpected guests of a more hostile kind.

It's a relief to peel off damp clothes and drape them over rails and hooks, and once he's in the shower and the warm water starts rolling over his shoulders it almost feels like this is all some strange dream he's slowly waking up from. If they do take confession in the shower then he seems ready for it, head bowed with a hand combing through his hair, sheets of water sliding off his back echoing off the tiles.

No sins to confess yet though. Just... a whole lot of questions, for now.

[hellblaze]

A slow wicked smile crosses John's face at the closeness. Cowboy is definitely easy on the eyes. Maybe even a gentleman. There is a type he rarely sees. He even chuckles a bit once the man hits the stairs, pushing himself to stand up right.

John tilts his head at the door, leaning over slightly on one leg. With the door ajar, he turns on his heel and rolls up his sleeves. Offering the bloke a shower is nice and all, but what he really wanted to do was start checking out the place he's holed himself up in. See if there's a murderer in a mask waiting to leap from the closet.

Onto the study room.

[thering]

Doc is in and out fairly quickly, and he's dripping considerably less once he's dried himself off and got his clothes back on. When he finds the other man presumably exploring the rooms, Doc is clutching onto his used towel and sporting an unlit cigarillo hanging from the corner of his lips.

"I do hate to trouble you sir," he pipes up, announcing his presence instead of knocking. "But I believe you had a light? Would you mind?" Turning his palm upwards, Doc gestures towards his current need. This definitely does make a case for storing your vices in a watertight tin, in case you get washed up in some unknown deadly quiet small town one day and need to befriend a few strangers to figure out what the hell is going on.

[hellblaze]

John turns around from the bookcase in front of him, raising an eyebrow. That was faster than he expected. Maybe he's the only one that likes long hot showers. He fishes out his lighter and tosses it to the other man. Not that introductions have been done. John realizes then he's only met a handful of people and only some of them have gotten his full name. Isn't that funny?

"Lucy bastard, yours must not be wet." John huffs slightly.

His hands go to his hips as he turns back to the books before him. Ancient history! Brilliant, if he was looking for a history lesson. Mr. Mulcalley must of been one hell of a student. Maybe a professor even. He takes a few more steps, eyebrows coming together.

"Do you know what I find odd? More than the fact we've all been summoned to a ghost town that's got dust on everything, but fully stocked fridges and electricity?" He looks over his shoulder at the other man. "None of these books have ever been opened."

[thering]

Doc mumbles a quiet thanks and tilts his head down to light his cigarillo. He returns the lighter and, as a bit of an afterthought, glances around for any smoke alarms. They didn't have any of those going off out of the blue scaring the bajesus out of everyone back in his day.

"Keep them in a tin case," he explains, although the same cannot be said for his smartphone which had promptly died when he washed ashore. Doc steps in a little closer, eyes wandering around the study. There's a slightly musty sort of scent to the place, but it doesn't fill him with the same sense of uneasiness as when he'd tried to venture out the other day.

"Sometimes a learned man keeps books on his shelves to hide his secrets or show his knowledge rather than consume it. But when you can ask the Wikipedia anything about everything then these relics are destined for mould and rot." Doc's eyes glaze over the untouched spines of history books. He didn't know he would be in several of these one day. But here they are, and the 'one day' has come. And he doesn't feel like Wisdom came to visit him in any of those long years that passed him by.

"I will explore the other rooms." History books make for wonderful paperweights but they need knives, and answers in the present day.

[hellblaze]

Keep them in a tin case. John throws his hand up as if it had been the most obvious answer he should have come to. Like he has a bloody tin case on him! Besides, most the time, his trenchcoat keeps the water out. Though, probably isn't a bad idea at this rate. Especially if unholy rains are going to be a normal bit of this town.

"I don't think he'd need this many books." He looks back over at the other man. "Knew a bit of a learned man myself. Place was littered with books, knick-nacks, and magical to-dos. Most had been used by others if not himself. No, this is just... unusual."

John moves over to the desk and opens the drawer, pushing through the papers and whatnots inside. Normal. Just like most of the damned house that he'd seen.

"Hopefully you got better luck than me, mate. Find something useful, yeah?"

[thering]

"I will holler," he promises with an incline of his head before he ducks out and heads back for the stairs to take a look in the bedrooms. He seems a little more at ease with company in the house, even though he does not know the other man all that well. Puffing on his cigarillo, Doc heads to the master bedroom first.

The wedding photo draws him in, like a moth to a flickering flame. Doc picks it up gingerly and brushes his thumb over the faces of the couple. He remembers distinctly when he first laid eyes on a daguerreotype. This isn't so old. Setting the photo frame down, he proceeds to the closet next, pushing a few hangers of clothes aside. He's getting a better reference for a timeframe, at least, with all the little details he can pick up.

His footsteps can be heard downstairs, pausing when he studies things, then continuing into the different rooms, until he reaches a bedroom with small beds and a running pink motif. Then it goes deathly quiet.

[hellblaze]

There is a nod that he knows the other man can't see as he turns his attention to other things in the room. Family photos. Isn't that just peachy and warm feeling? He sighs and shakes his head, taking one last look around the room. If he can't find anything elsewhere then off come those books.

He crosses the hallway again back into the living room. TV it is! He stands in front of it and flicks it on. Power, but nothing else. He glances up when the sound of the footsteps stop entirely. John waits a few seconds, leaning backwards, but ultimately doesn't go poking about up the stairs just yet. Not until he's hollered for.

Sci-fi VHS, cassettes... it reminds him of the times before CDs and MP3 players. John comes to a stop in the middle of the living room and frowns. Things should of decayed if it had been that long though. Nothing should be as picture perfect pristine as it all looks. It could of been built yesterday except for the dust and that distinct feeling that people lived here.

"Just what the hell is going on in this town?" He sighs and scratches the back of his head.

He could of used Chas or hell, even Zed at this rate. Though there is a wave of anger and guilt that comes at that idea. He should be able to work this out on his own without her visions and Chas's extra lives.

[thering]

A steady hand smears dust over the covers, adding new creases to an otherwise perfectly made bed. More than ever he feels the urgency to leave, to be there for a child who might one day have a bedroom just like this, to exchange awkward glances at a mother and say all the things he should have said when he did not have the courage to.

Like all those decades ago, he thought he would have had more time.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Doc plucks his smoke from his lips and scratches at his eyebrow, heaving a sigh and leaving a handprint that fades ever so slowly from a pillow made askew. An urgency to leave this town, yes, but not much inclination to move.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Footsteps descending back down the stairs. The towel is gone, presumed returned to the bathroom. He clears his throat to get the blond's attention. Or maybe there was something stuck in it.

"A few anomalies, like everything else, but nothing useful in the bedrooms," he reports. "How has your search faired?"

[hellblaze]

"About the same. Other than not making any bloody sense." John makes a wide gesture to the room around him. "Pristine condition! Oh, sure, the house gives off that nice 'lived-in' vibe. Except for the fact everything looks brand new. Science fiction movies, working television and VHS by the way. Oh, cassettes! So, either this house is born retro, or..."

He doesn't quite have an or yet.

John scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel and moving into the kitchen. "Not to mention the bloody dust. Almost like this place has been left abandoned for over a decade, but it looks like brand new. It doesn't make any sense!"

[thering]

Doc stands there and waits patiently as the blond man rambles and raves. Some of those words make sense to him. The house being in pristine condition - yes, he's noticed. He knows what a cassette is, but now does not seem like the most opportune time to be asking what a VHS is.

Following the flustered gentleman into the kitchen, lest he have some sort of aneurysm unsupervised, Doc blinks at him a few times and finally breaks the silence on his part by plucking the cigarillo from his lips and holding it out with the butt side facing the blond.

"If I may, give you some advice? You need a cigarillo." A perfect substitute for when 'calm the fuck down' is a little too direct and brusque.

[hellblaze]

"Oh, you've got no god damn idea." John nods in thanks before taking a quick puff on the cigar. Shit. Not his usual style, but, he'll take what he can. Then he hands it back. "Brand new pack and it's sogging wet from the bloody ocean."

He leans against the counter, rubbing his face. His little adventure before all this certainly hasn't helped his mood. The lack of alcohol to deal with it as well. He hasn't felt the good old itch of addiction in a long while, but oh, is it hitting him hard now.

John lets out another sigh to force himself to calm down. Then he looks back at his current companion. "If you don't mind me saying, mate... you seem a bit old world."

[thering]

"It will dry out," he reassures as he takes his cigarillo back and puffs on it one last time. It's almost all finished, anyway. He hasn't started to worry yet about what happens once he depletes his personal supply, but he has been keeping track of how many is left in the case. He has been keeping track of a few more things than he usually would, since arriving here.

Right now he is taking everything in his stride as best he can. He has spent many a night out in the elements, but everything comes right after a good long stint indoors with a bit of hot food and a modicum of hospitality, in his experience.

"You wish to know my story?" Doc asks with a smile and a headtilt, ducking his head in a subtle display of coyness and acquiescence, hands moving to rest at his hips above empty gun holsters. He's buying his time, deciding what to disclose, preferably without outright lying.

"I was born on a balmy summer day in the year of our good Lord eighteen fifty one. John Henry were the names I was given, but I am partial to the latter. And the world did not look exactly like this, no." Doc gestures with a hand passing around the kitchen.

[hellblaze]

"Eventually," he agrees bitterly. Obviously not fast enough for him--then again what things are fast enough. He's hoping one of these houses has some cigarettes stashed away for when he eventually runs out of the ones he has.

Fingers tap underneath the lip of the counter as he listens to the very vague answer. Except for the year. He stands up straight then, tilting his head just a bit.

"Eighteen fifty-one. The nineteenth century?" That earns a raised eyebrow. Count him curious. "All horses and the wild west, given the accent. Can't say I had such a stellar start to life as you did, mate."

John pushes himself from the counter then as he takes note of what is in the kitchen.

[thering]

"More or less." It's not always like what they see in the movies, with saloon doors swinging and guns blazing - some days are like that, but for the most part they led fairly ordinary lives - but that's neither here nor there. Their immediate concerns far supersede their need to figure out where all everyone comes from.

"I am willing to listen, if you are willing to share," Doc nudges gently. Honestly he wouldn't mind even getting just a name, but depending on how much the blond is willing to share, he might be a little more forthcoming as well.

Crossing his legs at the ankles, Doc rests his elbows on the kitchen counter and watches the tail of that trenchcoat flap about left and right. They just got here and it doesn't seem like they'll be leaving in a while; he's not in a similar hurry to ransack the place.

[hellblaze]

"Oh, trust me, you don't want the story of the Constantines. Sob story, that one. Broken family, broken life, led down the road of oh so dangerous things. Smoking, alcohol, sex, drugs, rock and roll, magic. I'll let you figure out which one of those stuck."

Trick question. They all did. Well--drugs not so much these days.

"Liverpool, England. Since you asked." John moves onto the next drawer. "Moved to London eventually."

[thering]

Constantine it is, then.

"Sounds like an adventure to me," Doc observes quietly with a knowing smile. Although, truth be told, he is getting a little too old for that shit too. And his time with Wynonna in Purgatory has changed him, or so he'd like to think.

"So, Mister Constantine, are you a demon, a wizard, a street hustler, or do you merely cheat at poker and call it magic?" Doc's tone is playful, which is the only thing distinguishing the question from an outright insult.

[hellblaze]

"Less of an adventure and one bad decision after another." There is a shrug to dismiss the idea. Though the next question makes him look up from the drawer. "Exorcist, demonologist, petty dabbler of the Dark Arts, and a bit of magician. Didn't go to school for any of them before you asked."

The question may have been playful but the answer is very serious. Though he has a grin on his face, the look in his eyes says its all real. Oh, not that he expects anyone here to believe it. He was surprised enough that Daisy even believed in it. Must be the fact she was used to aliens.

"What about you? You're not too surprised about how things look, so the modern era isn't unknown too you. Time travel?"

[thering]

That's a lot of titles. Doc is probably just going to stick with Mister Constantine for now, though... 'demonologist' sounds useful. He's a little wary of the 'dark arts' and 'magician' bit, though.

Doc seems to accept them all at face value, nodding just as seriously back at Constantine. There's no real point in holding everything back, since a few cards are coming down on the table all at once.

"Took the long way round, as luck would not have it. I was visited by a witch on my deathbed, one hundred and thirty years ago. Give or take." He clears his throat and averts his gaze, not appearing particularly forthcoming about any additional details. He doesn't have anything good to say about the witch, so he'd rather not say anything at this point.

"Sometimes we make bad decisions. Sometimes bad decisions are made for us. Where you came from cannot be changed, and you cannot unbreak families or lives. There is only here, now, and what you will break in the time to come."

[hellblaze]

"That doesn't sound as fun as it could of been to have a witch in bed." John replies easily. He can infer a detail or two. Cursed or made a deal with. Either way, result is the same, payment is the thing that changes. "Oh, there's always plenty for me to break, mate. And I just keep on doing it."

His tone shifts then. While he hasn't lived a hundred and thirty years - more or less - he's done plenty of damage in the thirty-five years he's had on this planet. A girl's innocent soul is in hell because of him. Countless people dead, more of their lives broken. Only two people seemed to have so far made it away from the curse he seems to have by simply existing.

"You love a good motivational speech, don't you?"

[thering]

"It was not," Doc confirms. He doesn't want to think of himself sharing a bed with that witch though. Or anything else, for that matter. He's had his revenge and he's as happy as he'll ever get about that. That's all that matters to him now.

"I love a good bottle of whiskey, but. Where there is none, we shall not wallow." He flashes Constantine a tight-lipped smile and lowers his head.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Doc gestures with his head towards the cupboards, drawers, shelves and other assorted nooks and crannies in the kitchen.

[hellblaze]

"Whiskey, gin. Could go for either of them about now." John agrees with a weak grin, turning to the fridge and opening it. This time he's just looking for something to eat. Quick snack to keep his mind off the fact he can't light up a cigarette just yet. "Haven't found a damn thing that might explain what's going on. Though, the personal details add up in the end."

He pulls a string cheese from the fridge and closes it with the back of his foot. There's no time wasted as he opens it and takes a bite out of it. That really just defeats the point of it being string cheese.

"Notes and personal affects. Shows that either they had to leave in a hurry, or they weren't expecting whatever damn well happened here. Doesn't look like they packed, so either emergency things were already in place, or they literally just up and left." He leans against the counter. "Now, what I can't figure, is why the building looks like it has no decay. No mold, no broken windows, floorboards, just more than a fair share of dust bunnies. A ghost town that's been preserved like a museum."

John smirks at that. "Now that's just weird."

[thering]

Doc looks at Constantine like there's a fluorescent rose growing on his face as he rips into the string cheese. He's not familiar with the product and the blond looks downright bizarre chomping into it.

"Perhaps they were taken, as we were." To where, he could not say. There is very little anyone knows right now. It still does not explain the state of the place. The freshness of the produce. Where are the knives? And who brought them here? To what end?

"Close to the ocean, with no sign of rust. Fresh food. No cobwebs," Doc agrees. "You don't appear to mind the 'weird'."

[hellblaze]

John doesn't seem to notice the look on Doc's face, although he probably wouldn't care much to comment on it even if he did. Taken somewhere. There is a tilt of his head as he eats.

"That's a thought. Almost like an eerie rapture." He licks his fingers and takes one more look around the kitchen. "Used to the concept of weird. Part of the job title! Now..."

He looks at the floor of the kitchen. Best place to do it, he supposes. Less furniture to move than the living room, and it would of been where the most traffic in the house was. He raises his hands, wiggling his fingers as if he's taking a quick inventory in his head.

"Did you see any candles upstairs?"