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072-078 » pages of possible futures

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: Mathias Township proper
WHEN: Days 072-078
WHAT: The future is set in motion once more.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here! Next log will be the weekend of July 31.
MOD NOTE: The week did not go as planned. Apologies for the delay on this log and thank you for your patience!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Marco Beltrami "Bad Omens"

DAY 072
“The visions are fragmented and a dark cloud spreads
like spilt ink across the pages of possible futures.”
— Garth Nix
Blue skies greet residents on this bright new morning filled with summer sunshine. It's a day when birds would normally be singing, when there would be boats taken out on the water, children laughing and running through the streets. But in Mathias there is only silence, eerie and almost deafening in its absoluteness, and those blue skies do not stretch on forever. Far off on the horizon are dark clouds stretching ominously in all directions, never moving closer or farther away. They are always there, dark and angry, as if waiting... For what, who can say, but they will remain there for the days going forward, circling the town like a shark circles a meal.

Despite that dreadful darkness in the distance, there is some good news. Residents will also wake to find that their previously missing belongings have returned to them. Clothing and other personal effects are right where they should have been, as if they have always been there, and there is no sign of them having been returned by someone or something. They're just there.

That is, however, the extent of the good news. Residents who visit the Town Hall will find the bulletin board much changed, and those who have thrown caution to the wind and made use the sedatives found within Baneberry Hall will begin to find themselves changing as well. They are easily distracted while awake and plagued by nightmares while asleep. They dream of Mathias burning, fire spreading from the east until it consumes everything in its path. With increasing intensity as the week continues, they will wake with terror gripping their chests and sweat covering their too-hot skin.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the lawn of Town Hall, at the center of the little town square. There are shops all around them, with houses just beyond, and at first glance, everything seems almost picturesque. Except for the silence that is at times so complete as to be maddening... Welcome to Mathias.

DAY 073-075
With those dark clouds still hanging on the horizon, some residents may find themselves watching the ocean a little more closely, searching for signs of whatever it is they are beginning to sense is approaching. If they do, they will find those signs, for every so often a dark shape will appear from out of the water before disappearing a few moments later. Residents are welcome to try getting a better look at those shapes, though moving to higher vantage points will be ineffective and swimming may not be the best investigation method.

Nightfall strengthens the sense of that elusive something. Though nothing can be seen in the darkness, there is something out there. They can feel it when they are outside themselves, a heavy presence that their animal instincts warn them against, urging them to flee to safety indoors. But once inside, they can hear whatever is out there in the night, the sounds horrifying and yet utterly indescribable and beyond the limits of their perception.

There is no way to glimpse what might be making those sounds, nor is there any way to properly record them, though attempts may be made to do so.

DAY 076-077
The strange occurrences of recent days continue as something attempts to lead residents out into the southern forest should they venture within view of the treeline. Unrecognizable voices may call out incoherently or the sounds of someone moving through the trees may pull at their attention. Or, perhaps, a dark figure entering the forest will catch their eye, pulling them to follow the possibly feminine figure with no discernible characteristics.

Whatever it is, it will lead them along the paths or even away from their relative safety, winding this way and that until they're completely lost within the expanse of sun-dappled trees that seem innocent and threatening at the same time. There is nothing left to do but continue following that figure that is always just ahead at the edge of sight.

Eventually, the trees stop and there is a stretch of clearing, the sky a crisp blue overhead, sun shining down and yet—

That dark figure is still shrouded in shadow, as are the other four that have joined it. All slight with long hair, something feminine in the way they stand with hands held out at their sides, facing outward in a line along the edge of the ravine that borders the township, though for some reason their features cannot be focused on enough for true comprehension. They stand there in silence as if waiting, so close to the edge that a strong wind could easily knock them over into oblivion. A concerned resident might try to stop them; a curious one might try to finally get a better look at the figures that led them to this place. Regardless of the reason, any movement into the clearing toward them will end in the same result.

All five figures step forward as one and disappear into the nothingness below.

The ravine so deep that the bottom cannot be seen and wide enough that the other side is tantalizingly out of reach. At first, there is the sense that safety is just beyond if only they could get there, but with that sensation is also the knowledge that if they stay here, death will be a certainty. The edge seems unsteady, like getting too close would set it crumbling and send them tumbling into that as well...

That is when those who do venture to the edge see the truth of the ravine and what lies beyond it: nothing. There is a neverending dark nothingness below and beyond this ravine, beyond this town, and there is something staring back from within the dark.

DAY 078
As morning arrives in Mathias, so too does the storm. Those clouds that hovered in the distance move in quickly, plunging the town into a twilight-like darkness. The rumbling that breaks the silence is like that of a thunderstorm but infinitely more ominous, signaling something approaching that is not meant for the world of man. Within just a few minutes, the residents will learn why as lightning arcs across the sky, the cracks of powerful energy echoing through the air. Those branching spikes at first remain in the sky, but then suddenly they crash down to meet the earth, striking the Lighthouse. The sound of splintering wood and pierced metal fills the air, followed moments later by the roaring crackle of a fire raging into existence. Those cracks and crashes continue as the lightning moves inward, hitting the forest, the beach, and the Grey Gull before moving down Phillips Drive to attack the homes left rotting by time.

While the lightning eventually retreats to the sky, the fire spreads with purpose. It leaps from building to building, consuming everything in its path. It is a living, breathing thing driven by a need to devour. There is no stopping or controlling the almost sentient entity, for it does not behave as fire normally would — it skips buildings before doubling back, burns when there's nothing to fuel it, and seems to almost actively pursue residents fleeing to safety. Ultimately, the fire consumes everything east of the Library, from Jackson Boulevard to the beach and the northeastern forest to the Lighthouse; for an unknown reason, it does not venture farther inland than this.

Ash falls from the sky like snow throughout the town as the eastern half of Mathias glows a terrifying raging red. Residents may seek sanctuary in businesses along the square or in areas in the western half of the town, though the latter will not be without its own risks and consequences.

SANITY LOSS

There are multiple opportunities for sanity loss within this log. All instances of such should be reported before the next log.
— BANEBERRY SEDATIVES These will effect all who have taken them, regardless of type, quantity, or frequency, until the storm on day 78. Each night of nightmares will result in 1 point of sanity loss for a potential total loss of 6 points.

— FIGURES IN THE FOREST All who witness the figures jump into ravine will suffer 3 points of sanity loss.

— SEEING BEYOND THE RAVINE Any who see the truth of what is beyond the ravine will suffer 7 points of sanity loss that cannot be recovered. Additionally, any Madness that results from this sanity loss begins immediately.

— DEATH BY FIRE All who are killed by the fire lose 3 sanity points and gain the Madness pyrophobia for seven days, which should be reported. The pyrophobia will be experienced at an intensive level for the duration of the Madness.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE WEATHER Summer has arrived in Mathias, bringing with it warm days that average 70°F and comfortably cool nights.

— THE FOG has maintained its recent boundaries.
— 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 from the western section of town entirely.
— 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.

— DISAPPEARANCES AND DEATHS have ceased for the moment but they're sure to begin again soon.

OOC NOTES

— ENDGAME We are officially heading into endgame. Over the next few months, things will begin ramping up and moving toward the always planned conclusion, with the last log projected to go up between the end of October and middle of December.

What does this mean? Essentially, hopefully, this will mean more opportunities to dig into the mysteries and lore of the game, as well as more chances for your characters to creep toward insanity. However, how things progress and what information comes to light will depend upon character interaction with the setting and involvement with the mysteries of Mathias.

— ITEMS FROM HOME All items from home have returned to the exact state and location in which they were last seen. This includes all clothing and possessions they had on their person when they arrived in Mathias (or, for arrivals in the previous log, what they should have had). Items from home that were left behind by other characters no longer in the game have also returned.

— THE FIRE A rough representation of where the fire spreads is available over here.

— REMINDER There are a lot of moving parts to this log, as there will be for all logs going forward. Read the narrative and all OOC notes thoroughly and carefully. Ask questions if something is not clear, but please also look through questions others have asked for further clarification.

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Raylan was on edge. He hadn't slept but a few hours either night and he couldn't sit still unless he had a bottle in his hand. A bottle that he couldn't keep nursing because what if everything blew up around them and he was drunk? He hadn't paid attention to the feeling just before he had gotten himself killed the first time, but he would the second. It felt like something had crawled up his neck and bitten in there, following him from God knows where.

One day found him at the Beach, hat hooded eyes lost on the horizon, on the shapes and blobs in the water. What the hell was that? He edged closer to the lapping tide, chest tight with.. fear. Don't go in, his lizard brain screamed and Raylan readily listened to it. Whatever was in the soup could fucking stay there.

The second day found him hastily going through the Historical Society, books and files getting unkindly pushed off shelves and into unkempt piles on the floor as he went through them. "Mathis history, history," he muttered to himself. "Anything to do with the ocean, they had'ta've had accidents, storms, something."

Eventually, he went home empty handed and when he wasn't pacing between 1306 and 1308, Raylan was dosing in either one of his living rooms, started awake sharply with the smallest sound and sent back to pacing anxiously again, checking windows and doors for the four hundredth time.

If something was coming, he was going to be ready for it.

Parker hadn't been able to stop thinking about Raylan. Despite everything he'd said, despite him stealing Jeff's face, Jeff had still seemed to trust him. Even to like him. Maybe even be friends with him.

And she'd liked him too, at first. When she'd thought he was Jeff, pretending to be a US Marshal, and not...an actual US Marshal. She'd liked him right up until she'd realized she didn't actually know who he was, and therefore didn't know what to expect to him, or if she could trust him at all.

She's still not sure about that last part, and there's really only one way to find out. Luckily, in a town as small as this one, Raylan is easy to find. And the Historical Society has a very conveniently placed vent right above where he's rummaging through the old files.

She makes herself comfortable, prepared to wait and see just exactly what Raylan gets up to when he thinks no one is looking.

Note number one: Raylan was not kind to files that held nothing for him. Note number two: Raylan knew the weirdest places to reach, grouping around and ducking under each desk that had survived, looking for keys. When he found none, he kicked one of the desks, launching himself less than gracefully onto the floor where he sat for a long minute with his head in his hand, elbows propped on his knees before he got a second wind of resolve. Can't keep a good dog down, right?

"No, okay. Deep breath. Pull back." Raylan pushed to his feet and shoved his hands through his hair, putting it all half in place as he spread his hands out. "We know they had at least one fire. Burned only the town. They rebuilt. Wish they woulda put in a fucking plaque up or something. Maybe there's somethin' here about that. Preventative measures or something - they had to, right?"

Yes, he was talking to himself, talking the problem out and chasing down new perspectives that might gain him a step in the right direction. He didn't know he was being watched, but he could feel it anyway and assumed it was just the same eyes that had been on him since he got here. It would only take an odd noise or two to change that opinion.

Parker watches from her vent with interest. He sure talks a lot. She scoots a little closer to the edge of the vent, peering around the room, but there's definitely no one else there. The only person he's talking to is himself. It seems like he's trying to find out more about the town's history, which she has to admit makes sense, in the Historical Society. It might be interesting to find out what he's learned, once he's done with all the research stuff, but watching him dig through files and ask himself questions is honestly pretty boring.

Raylan kicking the desk and flinging himself right on his butt had been pretty funny, though. She'd managed to stifle any giggles and stay silent when it happened, but unfortunately he hadn't been the only thing that had been sent sailing though the air when he'd kicked the musty old desk.

It takes a while for the dust to make its way up to the vent, but make its way up it does. And that's when the inevitable happens. There's a single, quiet sneeze.

And then silence.

The sneeze heard around Mathis, it felt like but that was due to the eerie silence that followed them around every where. Raylan's head came up sharply at the intrusive sound, papers quickly forgotten as his eyes scan the room, quickly working his way up to the vents. There was no one else in the room with him and that would fit the echo but who would fit up there?

"Alright. Whoever's there. Come on out."

The papers were set down and some silent steps carried him closer to the suspect vent. Maybe they were in another room and it traveled? He doubted it. Shit, was he going to have to go climb, wasn't he?

She stays still and quiet at first, hoping that he hadn't heard, or that he'd decide he'd imagined it, or that he'd think it had come from some other room. None of which end up happening. Of course he moves right over to the vents, standing directly underneath. Parker makes a face in the vent up above, rolling her eyes, but as the seconds pass and he doesn't give up and move away, she realizes she has to do something.

Not necessarily the right thing.

Angling herself so that the acoustics of the vent distort the sound as much as possible, she puts on her most spooky voice.

"Thiiiis is the ghoooooost of Mathiiiiiias. Iiiiii am waaaatching youuuu."

Another sneeze.

"Aaaand I have haaaay feeever."

Raylan couldn't help the little scoff at the corny answer. He recognized the voice - Miss Kitty, since he didn't know what else to call her, and spread his hands on the wall, head hanging between them.

She was scared of him, last he saw and he didn't fully understand why. Maybe he could.. fix it this time somehow, before he resigned himself to her being set in her opinion.

"I'm terrified. Shakin' in my boots. C'mon. Air's better out here anyway. Kick out the vent, Miss Kitty, come down from your fort. Mainly cause I wanna see how anyone is gettin' around in these damned things."

There's an exasperated ugh from up above, and then the vent cover comes crashing down (better jump out of the way quick, Raylan) to be replaced by Parker's annoyed face.

"It's not that hard. All anyone ever wants to do is whine about it. Oh boo ho, I can't feel my knees anymore. Oh boo hoo, I hit a dead end and had to crawl backwards for twenty yards." She shakes her head impatiently. "Suck it up!"

Raylan stepped back, assuming that she would absolutely take him literally and kick the grate out and he was glad he did.

He couldn't help but smile crookedly at her annoyed exasperation with their apparent laziness.

"Most people don't find the occasion to get used to those kinds of quarters. Unless they're up to no good. You up to no good?"

Parker stays where she is for the moment, still up in the vent, peeking out over the edge down at Raylan. She gives him a puzzled look.

"Of course I'm up to no good. I'm a thief."

But she's not here to steal anything today. Instead, she looks around the room, at Raylan and at the files he'd left spread over the desk, remembering what she'd overheard him saying to himself.

"There was another fire before this one?"

His head turned a little at that answer.

"Suppose that would make sense then." She must not care what his job was, to so brazenly say it. That's what he assumes, anyway. Not that it much mattered; he lived with Neal Caffery, a thief and forger in his own right.

Raylan nodded at the question, looking around the place with a heavy breath of frustration before he started detailing it out for her.

"It was in the 1830 somethings. A lighting storm started a fire that ravaged the town and killed everyone but a dozen or so. Only two buildings and the forest survived, as far as structures. I was hopin' to find more types of.. odd tragic disasters." And judging by the frown on his face, he hadn't gotten much.

"How long you been up there?"

Parker's still only half-convinced that Raylan hadn't been lying about being a US Marshal in the first place. Besides, even if he is, what's he gonna do? She's not sure they're even in the US anymore, for one thing. And it's not like there's a jail to drag her off to.

She lights up a little at the mention of odd tragic disasters. Those are always fun. Well...except when they're happening to her.

"Oooh. Maybe mysterious disappearances? Unexplained deaths? There has to be a freak boating accident, right?" She's so interested she's willing to leave her vent, slithering forward in an uncanny and unintentional imitation of the girl from The Ring.

Once she's out, she pauses, glancing back at it with a shrug.

"I dunno. Long enough." She looks back at Raylan. "Do you always talk to yourself?"

He had his badge back now and had firmly reaffixed it to his hip, but it was hidden under the untucked hem of his t-shirt. Not that it did him any real good. She was right, there was no jail. He'd checked.. Several times.

"Somethin' like that. Anythin' like that, really. Most I got is the local editor bein' chosen for something and being very happy about 'serving' his community. Bein' honor by it." He wagged a finger at her lazily as he looked over the piles of paperwork. "And I talk to myself as often as needed. Helps work out a problem sometimes, when plan A doesn't work. Plan A bein' Stare at it until an idea comes from chewin on it."

That was always the South's first answer when finding a problem that didn't have an obvious answer.

"Odd way to spend an afternoon, in a vent, watchin' someone you don't know go mad."

Days 74-75 - OTA

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