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villagelogs2021-05-08 12:54 pm
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Entry tags:
- *overview log,
- alec hardison (leverage),
- callisto (xena warrior princess),
- doc holliday (wynonna earp),
- elena gilbert (the vampire diaries),
- elijah mikaelson (the vampire diaries),
- ellie (the last of us),
- john carter (er),
- malcolm bright (prodigal son),
- parker (leverage),
- raylan givens (justified),
- yennefer (the witcher),
- ~ bucky barnes (marvel live action),
- ~ daisy johnson (marvel live action),
- ~ neal caffrey (white collar),
- ~ number five (the umbrella academy)
059-061 » the place where you stop the story
WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Southern Mathias
WHEN: Day 059-061
WHAT: Time returns to "normal" and Mathias grants a reprieve.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here! The next log will be posted the weekend ofMay 15th May 22nd.
RECOMMENDED ♫ Nathan Johnson "Foul Play"


CONDITIONS UPDATE
OOC NOTES
navigation | faq | locations | report updates
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Southern Mathias
WHEN: Day 059-061
WHAT: Time returns to "normal" and Mathias grants a reprieve.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here! The next log will be posted the weekend of
RECOMMENDED ♫ Nathan Johnson "Foul Play"

DAY 059-061
A BRIEF REPRIEVE“There is no real ending. It’s just
the place where you stop the story.”
— Frank Herbert
Residents awake to a peaceful morning with the sun shining and earth remaining still. There is no unsettling shaking to rouse them at dawn, and time has continued moving onward as they slept. Whatever state they were in the night before, they remain that way now, for good or for bad.
On the surface, there seems to be little lasting effect on the tiny town from that strange series of days, save for the memories of any traumatic experiences residents may have faced — but there are always consequences within Mathias. The perpetrators of acts against the town are tormented by nightmares of those acts being used against them, and those who did not raise a hand to stop those acts of destruction may yet face consequences of their own. For now, however, the unwilling townspeople should do their best to rest and recover from the disturbing ordeals of late, for this reprieve from the madness shall surely be shortlived.THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the beach near The Grey Gull. It's a bit chilly out with their wet clothes, but surely there's something to help warm them inside the restaurant. They may even find some alcohol within — and not just the cowboys' homemade moonshine.

— THE HISTORY MUSEUM has not fared well with the return of "normal" time. The once esteemed wooden building is now a charred ruin, the recent fire leaving behind little of the contents within for study. The structure is unstable and it is not wise to venture into the ruins for long.
— THE WEATHER conditions remain fairly typical for early fall: warm days and cool nights. It feels almost like spring arriving except that there fewer red and orange leaves on the ground and more of them oddly returning to the trees and slowly fading to green. It's like watching one of those nature documentaries that have a timelapse of the seasons, only it's going in reverse.
— THE FOG has retreated from some areas!— Residents may now wander the southern stretch of the forest surrounding Mathias Township — it is possible to leave the paths but potentially unwise to do so.
— The fog has also retreated farther into the western section of town, now stretching across town between Stine Road and Shelley Drive. This has revealed the Chasm in the earth that stretches from one side of town to the other between Stine and Hill Lane.
— Access to the northern section of the forest is still blocked beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline; this section of fog will urge residents to stay huddled within the town proper by inducing a physical reaction of panic and fear.
— DEATHS & DISAPPEARANCES continue! Max Guevara has vanished into the fog. Claire Novak's body can be spotted on Day 059 facedown at the bottom of the Chasm between Hill and Stine, near Phillips Drive; by the morning of Day 060, her body will be gone. (Attempts may be made to reach her body but will likely not end well for those involved. Such attempts should be reported under Exploration.)
— ALCOHOL is still in Mathias! Just barely. (Supply is running very low after recent town events.) A small stock of beer and cheap wine may be found at the General Store, and some homes may have a small store of alcohol in the fridge or pantry. The Grey Gull was also restocked with its lower-end offerings of a variety of alcohol types. (Alcohol does not replenish as food does.)
— PROJECT HELP Your mod needs help with some projects!
— FUTURE PLANNING If you haven't, please answer the questions here for future log planning. I will almost definitely need some of these answers for the log going up the weekend of May 15, so act quickly! Late submissions will not be considered for that log.
— UPDATES Don't forget to report updates as they come up! Changes to locations (like toppling a few bookshelves in the library), big plots you have coming up that will affect the game (parties, major property destruction, etc), or exciting discoveries that may tie into the game's mythology (even the things provided by the mod) are very helpful to have in one place so relevant page updates can be made.
— MOD STATUS The usual reminder that it's just Amy steering this ship, so things will are going to be pretty slow for a while. Apologies in advance, and please don't feel shy about pestering me if you're stuck waiting for something.
no subject
Ravka. The coat is a uniform--do you not have Grisha here?
[ A long way from home indeed. The Darkling's gaze narrows, confusion etched across his features. ]
no subject
Just long enough for Mathis to stick a knife between your ribs.
Raylan's brow furrowed, head pulling back a little in his own confusion.]
What is a Grisha? Law enforcement? Military? [The man had the commanding calm that would fit those kinds of categorization.. He could also just be a badass Boss of some corporation.]
I'd suggest flight attendant but that's a little gothic for Southwest Airlines. [Hell he's almost surprised Kirigan wasn't wearing guyliner.]
no subject
For some reason, the coffee smells like the most delicious thing he's ever had. The Darkling chalks it up to an empty stomach. ]
Military. Required to serve. [ The Darkling offers a brief, almost pained smile, omitting the fact that he leads the entire Second Army himself. ] Grisha are what we call those with gifts--surely, there's some in New England? Perhaps under a different name. Healers, summoners.
[ There's a brief pause, a small one, and the Darkling finds himself glancing over at the other. ]
I'd like to ask a question, as forward as it is.
no subject
But then the man starts talking about Magic and Raylan has to stop himself from sighing heavily, instead lifting his eyebrows as his gaze dropped to the counter for a second before he brought them back up.]
No. No such thing, where I'm from. Here? Well. I'm sure you'll figure it out.
[The questions the Marshal now had were put on hold, as well as any elaborations as Kirigan attempted to gain.. it wasn't permission, Raylan felt it had to do more with manners. Raylan nodded, reaching over to the now finished coffee pot to pour out.]
Shoot.
no subject
He's here, with a man who speaks in the strangest way he's heard yet. He's here, his black blood washed away by the tide when moments before he'd been in the Fold, winged creatures with teeth and talons tearing at his skin, tearing him apart in a cacophony of pain and poetic justice. He's here when the little orphan girl who defied him, betrayed him, ruined him, isn't. His jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth, and then looks pointedly at Raylan's scarred face.
Raylan is correct: his question is not permission. It's manners. The Darkling's voice is blunt, an edge of something indiscernible bleeding over, gaze on slightly raised skin by the cowboy's jaw. His usual softness has temporarily retreated. ]
Will I need to defend myself in this place?
no subject
It was an impressive face. Just soft enough to be disarming when he came in and with the depth and possibility of getting dangerously empty and stony. It was the eyes really. They were darker than Raylan but Raylan was familiar with his own and how they got near black in the right light, enough to send wiser men out of his sight and stupider ones into gunsights.
But there were no guns here. No real weapons, though anyone with a sharp enough mind can make rudimentary ones. Otherwise, they would have used them.]
Others have tried, assuming you're talking about using your.. gifts. We've got graves for 'em in the back of the town. There's no defense against what you can't see or hit.
[He expected indignation. Possibly rage, depending on how the man was wired but no one in the military with command sense about them like that was going to take 'You can't do anything about it' well.]
You wanna know how I got these scars. [It wasn't a question.] They go down my neck and across the side of my torso too. Something slashed me in half, spread me across the field like fertilizer. [Surely everyone understood or had fertilizer.] Scars on my face meant I died on my back. Lookin' up at nothin' but sprays of my own blood and flesh.
[His lips 'shrugged' with a tight downturn, eyes still unmoving from Kirigan's.] Might need to do some testing with peripheral vision.
no subject
But he listens. He listens, and he owes it to the other to not shy away from those scars, webbed and etched on handsome features. If Raylan's telling his story, it's what at least is owed to him, and the Darkling finds himself impressed that the American doesn't seem traumatized about it. It brings several questions--more than several, and the Darkling looks the other back in the eyes and reaches for the coffee he'd procured. He'd been in that situation, too, though within the Fold. Volcra had been tearing him apart, the pain still fresh in his mind. His kefta is proof of that, tattered, torn. Usable, but broken.
How deeply ironic. ]
'Something.' [ An inquiry for elaboration. Pretenses are over, but he's still cordial and polite, still calm, his voice returning to it's normal soft but commanding tone. ]
no subject
Something large. Four legged, judging by it's gait but.. An invisible monster. Trust me, I wish I could give you more than that but anyone who's seen anythin' of the raw side of Mathis doesn't come away with a lot of details. It's.. unnatural. It's Mathis, at work.
Towns alive.. Or inhabited by something that is. Somethin' beyond the imagination of my world. I'm hopin' other people's worlds might provide some context. Alternate possibilities.
What's your gift? [There was no 'May I ask' or any pussyfooting around it. The man had admitted what he was. Time to see what that looked like, or at least, what the answer to the spoken question was. What man did after he spoke was something all together different and the two didn't have to have much of anything to do with each other. Raylan's played this game long enough to know the rules.]
no subject
Raylan asks and there's no pretense, no manners: it's blunt in a way that the Darkling finds he can respect. It's fair, he thinks, for the other to be so to the point: it saves them both time, and had he not cut to the chase when he asked about the stranger's scars?
The Darkling's face is blank, though his gaze slides slowly from those scars directly into Raylan's eyes, agonizingly slow, and the neutrality is no longer a mask: it's his default state, shedding the careful stoicness like a snake sheds its' skin, revealing unnerving calm rather than peaceful blankness. The room begins to darken. Shadows pull, growing longer, traveling to the Darkling's own and expanding, veiny tendrils of nothing but darkness crawling over the walls, dimming the world as they go, devouring, hungry as the Darkling sits perfectly still. In a matter of seconds the only source of light is the fire, and even that has been dulled considerably, the light akin to dulled embers and hot coal instead of the roaring fire it should be, crackling away in the hearth. ]
no subject
Raylan knew what he had asked. He understood what kind of Narnia ass closet of possibility he'd opened. He understood there was so much that he couldn't possibly know or brace himself for. You couldn't know what you didn't know.
What he did know, was how dangerous that neutrality could be. How advantageous that neutrality could be.
The board was being set.
Raylan glanced around as the light started to be drawn from the room - I've had this nightmare before - and stood at a more stiff attention, shoulders squaring as the coil of fear settle around his spine. His eyes came back down to Kirigan's and Raylan's natural answer to this level of instinctual fear against something that was readily in front of him was to shore up his defenses and face it head on.
He knew better than to tell the man that 'that was enough'. An admittance of weakness only invited people to poke at it.]
How can I be sure you're not just one of Mathis's trick? Another way to fuck with us. The Shadow Man given face.
[Why should he not sound an alarm right now. Do you bleed?
Raylan's dark eyes narrowed slightly, chin lifting a bare fraction, hands loose at his hips in an echo of how he would have handled this Before. But no guns. No holster, no comforting weight on his hip, no power to back his unmovable, authoritative word. ]
no subject
The shadows don't relent, though the room doesn't get any darker, the Darkling watching the other with that same expression, serenely blank, the truest he's been since arriving on the beach. It's only fair he drops most of his guise. It's what the otkazat’sya is owed.
Does he see the shoulders of the other set, just a little? Is Raylan bracing himself out of fear, the Darkling wonders, or something else? Is the man with the scars truly on edge? ]
No. [ There's no reason to lie, not if cooperation is necessary. If he's to pose in this village, he'll pose as something of his own creation. His own making. The shadows retreat slightly, a fraction of light returning to the room. The Darkling stops staring at calmly takes a sip of his coffee.
Shadow man. He'd been called that recently by the tracker boy. A creature that rends flesh off of those unlucky enough to cross paths with it, only invisible. And this town has a name: Mathis. His eyes narrow. ]
Though I would very much like to meet him. [ The coffee mug is set aside, and the Darkling, curious, addresses Raylan a second time. ]
You think this place has created me?
no subject
Especially now that Raylan knew there was a job to do. The Welcome Wagon had just gotten the strangest kind of upgrade.
The retreat of the shadows, as slight as it was, was a concession that Raylan could recognize. Concessions wrought concessions and he shifted the tone of his everything just by lifting his chin a little. But Kirigan knew about the brow game, clearly. Soft power was weaved all sorts of ways.]
Opinion's bein' readvised, [Was all he'd say about that. Information collection was a process, it came in bits.]
But it's not totally off the table, til proven otherwise. We'll leave it at fractional belief. Just in case.
[Sorry Guy, you're a little too on the nose of the Spooky of this place, some level of his distrust isn't avoidable. But that distrust didn't mean Raylan couldn't hold a conversation without racing to suspicions. There were a few people who'd come in, who'd been slid into his revised list of exceptions.
Mathis was a clean slate. Don't start nothin', won't be nothin'.]
He is shadow. Moved it when he was... alive or like.. in his earthly vessel or some shit - we're still piecing things together. Got a house across the gap, if you think you can get to it.
[To prove that he wasn't still sittin' on the edge of drawing his proverbial gun, Raylan pulled a bottle of moonshine out and glugged two more rounds into his cup before pulling it up for a deep draft.]
no subject
[ The moment the other pulls the moonshine out the shadows retreat entirely, and the Darkling assesses the situation proper: a stalemate, then, it seems. Raylan's made it quite clear with his words that he's suspicious. If the other's information is accurate, he can't blame him--but between the two of them, there's no need for a show. Peacocking and one upping for no reason isn't something the Darkling has ever been interested in.
What they have, it appears, is a mutual understanding. One neither of them necessarily likes, but one the Darkling can respect.
Good. ]
A gap? [ He feels foolish, parroting the others' words so often, but this is a valuable source of information. He holds up his cup of coffee once the other pulls out the bottle: a silent invitation for the other to pour a shot into the cup if he's obliged. It's not kvass, but it's something familiar. He studies the other's face. ]
no subject
Peace offerings came in all kinds.
With the shadows gone, Raylan could let his shoulders relax a little more, eyes not keen on moving off Kirigan terribly much but fairly sure they could come to a suitable understanding that would benefit everyone. With hopefully, as little friction as possible. He did prefer things smooth.]
A chasm, a tear in the earth. About fourteen foot across, a good fifty to sixty foot deep. Impassable. Caused by an earthquake some 5 or so weeks into us bein' here. There's more of the town than we can get to right now. The rest of it is on the other side, and the house closest.. [His lips pressed together in an unimpressed line as he picked up his cup again, shrugging them with a little down turn that didn't match the casual tone he used.]
A figure took up residence. He's been hauntin' the few unlucky enough to attract his attention. [But not Raylan, despite his continuous efforts. He knows there's an answer lying in there for someone to find. Maybe Mathis just doesn't want Raylan to find it.]
no subject
The gap, the chasm, it's interesting, and he's reminded of his own blight in Ravka, a wide Fold where nothing but darkness and monsters reside. Enough that he retains the information with a small, short nod, like the other is Fedyor or Ivan presenting a daily report.
It looks like he's going to have to pay a visit. The Darkling's eyes narrow for a few moments. ]
Thank you, Mr. Givens. You've been invaluable.
no subject
Kirigan oozed a sense of commanding power, and Raylan was happy to answer that with his own, unwilling to be relegated to just an average no one of the Township. He may not have any powers, any Gifts of that type - but cowering or puffing up too much like an offended pufferfish only make him look weak.]
But you're welcome and welcome to the supplies here, coffee and moonshine alike. I suggest you find a house that's uninhabited and not trust yourself to Mathis out in the open after dark.
[He and his cup came back around the bar, body angled towards the door.]
Plenty'a people to answer your questions, but if you have a specific one, you'll find me wanderin' on Phillips Drive. [He could use his own skills to sus out which door belonged to the Cowboy, Raylan wasn't offering those kinds of specifics. Mainly because it's a small town - Kirigan would see sooner or later.
With a tip of his hat brim, Raylan headed for the exit, fully planning on taking that cup with him. Better to be back outside where he could at least not worry about the Gull being pulled down on him.]