EVENT ∞ LOG — July 125

[thediadem]

Event ∞ Log

In the Flesh

Jump ⇅ :: Visits — First Contact — Hitchhikers — Notes

∞ Prologue ∞

It's not real, it's not real.

Somewhere in the Blocks, late at night, a young woman repeats the words over and over, fumbling with her room key. She doesn't dare look over her shoulder again, begging her hand to obey. Her fingers are stiff and smooth, and it makes each movement more difficult. Eventually, the door gives way. She stumbles into the apartment, slamming it behind her and locking several bolts.

Leaning back on the door, she lets her key ring fall to the linoleum as she holds her hand up to her face. It isn't just her fingers now. Painted plastic has taken over her entire right hand, spreading up her forearm toward a ball-jointed elbow that creaks painfully. She grabs her neck with her flesh hand, sucking in a sharp breath as she tries to steady her heart.

It's not real, it's not real...

She takes another breath, then turns on the light. The bulb flickers. Hazy light flood the room with an incessant buzz.

She freezes.

A figure stands in the opposite doorway. It doesn't move, stuck in a pose with an outstretched hand—one made of flesh and bone. Her hand.

She screams.

Info & Mechanics — NPC Forum Post — Event Interaction ::: ⇅ Top

Strange Visits

Panorama

For the first week or two of July, life goes on as usual. You have a lot on your plate—jobs, loans, rent, that creep who won't stop staring at you when you're filling up your car—and the last thing you've got time for is other people's problems. Or maybe you find room to listen, anyway? Whatever the case, it's mostly a lot of stories and pointing fingers: a shopkeeper accuses his friend of stealing from him, somebody claims their boss must've skipped town to avoid paying the employees, and a woman is frantic about her missing husband. He never goes anywhere without telling her.

If you decide to look into it, none of the incidents seem connected. After all, people frequently go missing in the Diadem, friends betray each other, and businesses often go bankrupt, leaving their workers to pick up the pieces. Funny thing, though: here and there, you swear you glimpse a figure who isn't entirely flesh. Their features are just...a bit odd. Is it your imagination? When you move in for a closer look, something gets in your way and the figure disappears.

On the other hand, you think to yourself, it's not as though everybody on this planet looks standard. If a man can have horns, why can't his skin also be a bit plasticky?

Use the Event Interaction comment any time you need specifics or some direction for an element you're engaging within the event. This can be an NPC victim your character is questioning, an aspect of the diffusion zone your character is testing, or anything along those veins. While you're encouraged to make things up on your own, too, if you're ever unsure of the results or the answers you might get, approach us there!

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First Contact

The Fringes

Inevitably, you take the risk and head back into the Fringes. It has what you need, and the bizarreness in Panorama isn't making the city feel like much of a refuge, either. Besides, long trips aren't unusual for anyone in the Diadem. As you drive, you might even find yourself reluctant to return to the city. After all, there's so much across the multitude of diffusion zones that regardless of how dangerous it can be, perhaps some part of you is attracted to the thrill of the unknown.

If the promise of loot isn't enough, a note on the Forum might be. Here, you'll scroll across a brief message from who else but the ever-eager Felix Bjurstrom, joined by his daughter, Olive "Ollie" Bjurstrom. (Looks like he's got a new phone again!) If nothing else, the investigative or curious nature in you gets you going. What if this is a piece of the puzzle you need to go home?

If you want your character to scavenge items, check how that works. The Map identifies where each Quadrant is located.

Among the Shadows — Abandoned Mall

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 10-hour drive from Panorama, a standard American shopping mall rises through the cracked and broken highway. A portion of its vast parking lot melts into the road ahead and behind. There are cars in the parking lot, each one perfectly preserved: no rust, no dust, nothing.

The mall's lights are on. The moment you step inside, you'll notice that you're not alone. Inside, shadow corpses are everywhere, frozen in time. Their bodies show no signs of distress. If you try to touch them, a dark, ashy residue coats your fingers. You see a young couple linking arms, a mother bending over to pick up her child, and a man ordering his last meal at the KFC. It's as though they all just...stopped. While eerie, whatever force swept through here is long gone.

The upside is that nobody will bother you while you look around—aside from other fluxdrifts, of course. The shops and their offerings are stuck in the 90's. Big electronics are cosmic touched, rendering them worthless, but smaller electronics like cassette tapes, CDs, and Walkmans are all viable. You can also grab clothes, snacks, and (cheap) jewelry.

And, as you pass by the store windows, you see many mannequins on display. That's normal, so you don't think twice. At least, until you swear one of them keeps moving around the store. Though its pose never changes, it almost appears to...follow you? That can't be right. You must be seeing things.

Zone Effects
Touching any of the frozen shadows will cause the victim to believe that their companion(s) have transformed into monstrous creatures. Attempts to approach you will only register as an attack rather than placating gestures, while words will sound like snarls or spoken threats. An induced panic will make it more difficult to think logically and see through the hallucination. The illusory creatures can take the form of anything that might frighten or threaten you the most.

You can break free of the illusion through a variety of methods, including your own willpower, being knocked out by your friends, or seeing/hearing something that makes you realize it isn't real. The hallucination isn't overly intense, but it can cause a bit of havoc among you and your companions...and increase the likelihood a mannequin might make contact unnoticed.

Wall of Refuge — Strange Temple

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 6-hour drive from Panorama—and on the way to the abandoned mall above—stands a geometric structure made of metal and stone. Sharp angles shoot up from the ground to form a distorted hexagon. The gateway is littered with sigils: some weathered by time, others freshly carved into the rocky surface. They glow when you drive forward, beckoning you closer. Come in, whispers an unknown compulsion in your mind. You are home.

You may succumb to the whispers for any number of reasons: sleep deprivation, desperation for a place to rest overnight, or a need to hide from raiders or dangerous creatures lurking in another nearby zone. Regardless, you give in and enter the triangular entrance. The stone gate lifts to grant you passage, revealing an effigy of a multi-limbed being. A deity? A symbol of power? Though you're unsure, you continue deeper. Your footsteps echo across the cavernous halls.

Behind you, the heavy gate slowly closes with a rumbling finality. Despite the chilly entranceway, the interior of the temple is warm and inviting. Candles line the walls. Fountains flow peacefully. You can enter one of the many rooms to find a soft bed, fresh cakes, succulent meat, and fine wine available for you. Behind a silk curtain is a steaming bath lined with soothing floral herbs and oils.

Meanwhile, throughout your explorations, you might sense a figure or a shadow in the passageway. A glimpse of shiny plastic appears oddly out of place in a temple of this kind.

Zone Effects

• If you are a believer and decide to trust the gifts bestowed upon you, then you may safely indulge. The wine will warm you up, the food will fill your belly, and you can sleep through the night. When you awaken, you can safely leave the temple refreshed. Your vehicle will be outside, untouched, as if some power within was protecting your belongings.
• If you are a heretic and doubt the offerings you've been graciously given, the gifts will begin to rot and all amenities will crumble to dust. The more your cynicism betrays you, the more the temple will take until nothing remains except the oddly textured walls bearing down on you. As you examine the surface, you realize the stone is built from a manifold of dozens—no, hundreds—of twisted bodies. Their arms are raised in reverence, piled upon each other like human bricks. Their gaping mouths are frozen in a silent scream. As for you and your companions...what fate will await the nonbeliever?

The Last Stop — Foggy Town

©

In Quadrant 4, about a 3-hour drive from Panorama, east of the currently unused train tracks, a thick mist rolls through the highway. Here, the sky darkens rapidly into night and the temperature drops. If you've traveled unprepared, presuming the heat in Panorama spreads into the Fringes, you'll find that's not so. A chill spreads into your bones and creeps up the back of your neck.

Then the ground rumbles. The tremors shake your vehicle. Maybe it even makes you lose control briefly or sends you swerving off-road, straight into the fields. And in the middle of the fog, you see it: a figure standing in the middle of the field. Behind it are a few houses, making up a tiny rural town. The houses are dilapidated, many crumbling. Supplies within are minimal, and many items are broken or spoiled.

Do you approach? Do you drive past? Merely staring for a second too long will be enough for the hitchhiker to choose you as its ride, but its appearance may not be all that keeps you in place. In the distance is another bigger shadow. A much bigger shadow. It looms in the distance without true mass or form. Within the void of its body, a searchlight sweeps over the misty town. It does not move. It simply looks while the ground shakes. Each time its light catches a glimpse of something that doesn't belong—an animal, a vehicle that drove too deep into the tall grass, a raider that went too far into town—a sonorous howl reverberates through the zone.

Then the shadow will teleport to its target and crush the intruder without mercy before retreating back to its watchful post. And the intruder is indeed crushed: any living organism caught by the Light Guardian will be flattened with a horrifying crunch of broken bones and squished organs.

Zone Effects
While the Light Guardian can't be defeated or confronted, you can outrun or hide from its sweeping beam. If you stop far enough on the side of the road, it won't notice you...but you can still watch as it mangles an unfortunate raider or traveler. Possibly, you see the spray of blood or hear the screams before you run. Perhaps you realize how easily you could've met your own gory fate.

If you've left your car and gone too deep into the town before you realize the danger, you can do one of two things: you can risk hiding in an abandoned house in the town and hope that the sunrise comes. In zones like this, the day/night cycle is unpredictable, and many places are permanently cast in darkness. Or, you can try to run back to your vehicle and pray you don't get caught.

Alternatively, you've plowed directly into the field when raiders in pursuit force you into the zone. Should fortune favor you, they'll be obliterated by the Light Guardian while you flee. The beam tracks quickly, but can only shine in one direction at a time so the key is to bob and weave.

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Hitchhikers

Anywhere

Not everyone who enters the diffusion zone will pick up a mannequin, but the possibility is there. Once you make first contact, you will gain a hitchhiker. Unlike most aspects of the diffusion zones, this one has gathered into a storm, meaning the effects will breach even normally stable and anchored strongholds like Panorama.

Some fluxdrifts will brush off your problems while a few might believe you. Others will offer solutions in their own way, including a doctor who'll pay to obtain strange plastic limbs. Not everyone will pitch in to help. The city's big, populated, and somebody on the street turning doll-like doesn't affect them (...until it does). They've got a job to get to and mouths to feed.

Unwanted Passenger

When do you first notice your passenger? At any point, really. Perhaps it goes like this:

You glance in the rearview mirror and glimpse a figure in the backseat. When you spin around, there's nobody there. Then it happens again. This time, you realize it's not a person, but a dummy. A mannequin. It's sitting upright. And is it...wearing a seatbelt? Or maybe it's thrown itself across the back bench as though somebody tossed it there, uncaring.

This time, when you look back, it's still there. You pull over and dump it on the side of the road. That's taken care of, you think. You drive some more. For a few hours or even a day or two—depending on how long you've traveled—you don't think much of it. Then suddenly, it's back. And it keeps coming back no matter how much you try to get rid of it.

Or it goes like this:

You return from a standard trip into a diffusion zone. It went pretty well, you think. You found some clothes at a creepy mall and now you're ready to get some sleep. When you open your trunk to retrieve your belongings, you notice a mannequin stuffed inside, limbs bent at odd angles. You're a little weirded out, but you decide to dump it on the street and move on.

You shower. In the bathroom mirror, the mannequin suddenly appears behind you. Over the next few days, this continues. The mannequin appears in a booth across the diner as you're eating your eggs. It's behind a shelf in the corner store. It's in your closet. Each time you check, it vanishes...but then, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it's right there in plain view. It'll even let you throw it away, burn it, anything you can think of. But it always comes back.

However it plays out, you realize that people around you do notice it...sometimes. That doesn't mean anyone will believe you that things are just that weird. Most people have better things to do. They don't know you, after all, and even if they did, well, this place does have a habit of driving people a little crazy. Witnesses casually push the mannequin aside and tell you that's a funny prank. Your regular waitress pats your shoulder and suggests you get some sleep. You're not looking well. The shopkeeper demands you take that thing before you go. He's not responsible for your junk.

But there's a small chance you run into someone who seems to be going through what you are. Unfortunately, they seem to actually have it worse and aren't making much sense. Still, you can try questioning them and see what answers you get. At least, before you lose them for good. For some of you, the victim you run into is in especially bad shape...and you have to wonder how long before you end up the same.

Trading Places

For some of you, the mannequins might not do more than be a nuisance. While that's not ideal, either, it doesn't completely upend your life. Others are less fortunate. If you're one of the latter, you'll begin to notice symptoms.

The first time it happens, you're startled to hear the mannequin speak. To begin with, its voice might be guttural and unnatural, incapable of stringing more than a few words together. Then it seems to learn. It talks in full sentences. Its voice smooths out. It starts to sound more and more like you...right down to your speech patterns and accent. As symptoms progress with varying intensity—over days or weeks—you realize with dawning horror that you're losing parts of yourself. When you wash your hands, you notice a part of your skin is smooth and shiny. The next time the mannequin appears, its previously plasticky appearance is more flesh and blood.

Eventually, the mannequin becomes independent. It shops with your money. It steals while wearing a face that looks nearly identical to yours, especially from a distance. It calls your friend and says the things you would never say out loud to them. They're thoughts you've had, sure, but you know better than to hurt your friend's feelings...except apparently, you have. And now you can't even use your own voice to explain yourself. Your leg has been getting stiff. Your joints don't bend properly.

Meanwhile, the mannequin is now striding around smoothly. Its appearance is still uncanny and odd if anyone pays attention, but at a glance, it easily passes as a part of the crowd. As its final act, it's even absorbed small bits of your abilities if you have any. Not all of them, but enough to cause trouble. Throughout everything, you cannot harm your hitchhiker. Some unknown force stops you any time you think about it. You simply can't.

Related Incidents

The impact isn't contained only to those directly affected. The hitchhikers' influence spreads through the city. For some incidents, it's difficult to trace back to the source. For others, that's a little easier. Regardless, these occurrences could help you determine how to solve your own situation. Alternatively, if you've escaped unscathed, you can still find yourself dragged into a situation involving someone else.

Return to Sender

July 11 — The Forum: An anonymous poster contributes this bit of information that might catch the eye of those affected. You can try the same method, but it's a risk going back into the diffusion zones. No one can guarantee the specific zone you found the mannequin in is still standing. Further, you have to remember where you made contact to begin with.

If you decide to try it, be sure to take a friend. The less independent the hitchhiker, the more likely it will stick to your side even as you return it home. If the assimilation has progressed too far, though, you might have to utilize methods such as duct taping inside your trunk or strapping it down with ropes. It may struggle and say vile things to you or your companion.

Victimless Burn Victims

July 14 @ 03:00 — The Pavilion (East End): A handful of troublemakers grabbed some freaky mannequins wandering the street and, in a drunken stroke of genius, set them all on fire for no reason other than that they wanted to. Not only has this resulted in damage to the corner store nearby, but Enforcers have linked the incident to four hospitalizations at roughly the same time. Doctors from Saint Margery's Hospital (located in the Blocks) report that all four individuals suffered massive shock and claim to have endured unimaginable agony as if they had been "set on fire."

Curiously, none of them bear any physical wounds and, by all accounts, are completely fine (trauma aside). Notably, all four individuals were also suffering from various stages of "joint stiffness" and "hallucinations"...which have since completely vanished. You might wonder, is this the solution? Or perhaps the better question would be, is it worth it?

The Sculptor

July 15 — The Pavilion (Medical Clinic): Around July 14 onward, word begins to spread that a Dr. Maggie Wright (who insists on being called the Sculptor, though nobody seems to heed this request) will not only do an amputation for free, she will pay you for your limb if you are boasting an "unusual trophic change to the skin, resulting in a smooth and shiny texture." All she asks is she gets to keep the sample. Her promise is that she will study it to find a more permanent cure and, if she does, she will return the limb to you for reattachment.

Some end up trusting her. You wonder, maybe she could help? Dr. Wright will happily accept you as her patient if you agree. Her methods are indeed proper and sterile: she'll put you under and provide you with plenty of pain meds. She appears to have all of the equipment required to preserve the limb, too.

If you're suspicious, you can also pay her a visit, but you won't have much luck getting her in trouble or sniffing out any evidence of nefarious deeds. Her office hasn't got anything strange, she is indeed a real surgeon, and there are testimonials from patients who've had success under her care in the past. Plus, nobody's going to her who isn't doing so voluntarily (they've signed waivers)—even if you could argue how much desperation plays into their decision. Still...the thing about her "title" is a bit weird, right?

Dr. Maggie Wright is 5'2, Caucasian with a light Northeastern accent and silver hair often worn in a bun. She's in her 50s and looks fairly good for her age. Her voice is soothing. She has intense, wide blue eyes, which some might find unnerving, but that's not necessarily her fault.

∞ Notes ∞

• Mannequin contact is not required. Not everybody who goes into the diffusion will make first contact, and many won't. Characters can explore the mall, the temple, and the foggy field without ever picking up a hitchhiker.
• The diffusion zones described are only examples. Others will exist where mannequins can be found, including grocery stores, gas stations, abandoned parks, and more. You can make up your own, but check with us if you have any questions about limitations!
• The speed and intensity of all mechanics are entirely up to you. Generally, the earlier a character makes first contact, the more severe their consequences.
• Investigating the zones or helping others are perfectly fine ways to participate! Since the hitchhikers are meant to be more insidious, it won't be strange if your character isn't in the middle of the action right away or notices things a bit late.

Questions? Ask here

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Comments

[exarched]

[ Of course Emet-Selch would also be here.

The look G'raha gives him is one of minute surprise, controlled only because of their circumstances and not wanting to give their would-be assailants too much to work with. How much of a coincidence can this be? If there is one thing to the Ancient's benefit, it's that G'raha does not honestly believe the other man is actively seeking him out. There is no point to that now. ]

Enjoying a refreshing stroll through the mists?

[ He asks off-hand as he turns his gaze back to the weapons pointed directly at him. ]

Shut up.

[ The only benefit here is that neither of them are as easy targets as they might seem. And Emet-Selch is not ever known to play his full hand on the first round. ]

Empty your pockets. And do it slow-like.

[terrorisms]

( That little bout of self-censorship gets a faintly amused look, but he doesn't call her on it. Figures maybe she's gotta kick the habit for her job or something, can't imagine any other reason a grown ass adult would bother. Then again, he's got a somewhat skewed perspective of the average adult's swearword vocabulary, what with spending almost two decades in the marines.

The WNBA didn't look twice — he scoffs once, in surprisingly good humor despite the pain still radiating through his brutalized hand. )

Yeah, you don't say. What are you, five foot five? You'd have to be a goddamn prodigy to make up for those missing inches, kid.

( Hell, she could've been, it's not like he knows. Just seems like a pretty safe assumption that without an extra six on her, she'd be hard-pressed to make the cut.

The pain's beginning to ebb, slowly, mostly imperceptibly, but each heartbeat throb shoots a couple fewer daggers through him. God damn, he hopes the reattaching business goes a little smoother. They got robots for that shit here, he's heard. Limb reattachment's an outpatient procedure, practically. Still gonna cost him out the ass, but at least he's only paying one clinic bill instead of two.

He makes to reach for the kit — right handed, so the movement's automatic, default. Only realizes it a second later, huffs out a sigh, and swaps to go digging through the kit with his left, seeking out a little meager bottle of painkillers. This over the counter stuff's barely gonna put a dent in it, but it's better than nothing. He'll hold the bottle against his chest with an arm, twist the cap off with his left, and swallow down a handful without even bothering to count 'em. Chase them down with a swig of his beer.

Only once they're all the way down does he finally come around to rasping out a little gratitude. )

Thank you. I know that was a lot, but you did good. I appreciate it. I don't know how bad it would'a been if it spread, and I'm happier never finding out.

[cryptsleeper]

[Simpler. Alucard frowns, considering his options.]

What about a deer? If it can run for just long enough...

Re: alucard.

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard stops when he hears footsteps approaching, but then...every time. In every place. In every universe it seems.

It takes great personal strength not to groan when he issues the correction.]

Just Alucard. But yes, I am. Why do you ask?

[His tone is polite, which he is going to chalk up as a personal victory.]

[nashua]

I'm five nine!

[ It's said with laughter of disbelief, a playful indignation for something she won't care about in five seconds. She might be closer to five eight and three-quarters; he isn't wrong that her height was a partial disqualifying factor.

When he starts popping pills, she watches him carefully. She almost reaches out and takes the bottle from him, but he ends up not needing her help.

Well, good. She has two jobs, she's too busy to drive around Miss Daisy over here.

The gratitude is a bit of a surprise. It makes her a bit uncomfortable, telegraphed by the way she digs her fingers into the back of her neck. She's happy she helped, but not happy that she helped this way. She's slowly realising that Panorama isn't good for her, and she's not what the city is looking for. The people here come pre-hardened, with superpowers or military history or advanced weapons training. Her arrival here can only be an accident.

Not that any of that means Nash would have told Frank no. He needed her help. End of story, end of sentence.

With some put on casualness, ] Yeah, don't mention it.

[ You did good. She's okay with hearing that... but she's happy to move on. ]

You shouldn't take that stuff on an empty stomach, you know. Did you have breakfast?

[godjr]

Jack has never felt close to the church or the religion that his existence is partially based around. He'd be called the Antichrist by some, as the son of Lucifer, and his brief dealings with religious humans have gone poorly. Although the jury is still out on whether the human-angels he created felt that way; he left them soon after creation. More like his grandfather than he probably should be.

He did think when he came in here that either it would feel right to him, in his gut, or that he's an ordinary person compared to whatever god this really serves. If it's from another world there's no reason that it should care what he is. But Jack feels otherwise now that he's in there. He can't escape being different, he can't escape feeling wrong. Much of his paranoia right then is in his head, but he is not skilled at regulating his emotions.

He is radiating with archangel power right then, partly due to his feelings, but also because some innate part of him is wanting to show he's a threat, that whatever is making him feel this way should watch out. It's like a cat puffing out its hair to appear larger. But in Jack's case, he can be very large. When he sees Castiel his eyes don't change, they still glow that gold that's similar to Lucifer's red, outside of the color.

"Castiel." His panic turns to something else now. "You're in danger, there's something in here!" It's why Jack isn't immediately powering down, in fact, he's getting more angry now that he has someone to protect. "I won't let you hurt him!" He yells.

this is perfect, thank you once again!!

[catharses]

[ Getting out of the car and encountering a temple what feels like rather abruptly after following the roads was not what Sunday expected. And drawn them in it had; now he stands looking up at it with a sense of foreboding he can't exactly place when the outline of it shifts too quickly to be any one definition.

Which is to say that when Emet-Selch says exactly what he's thinking both before and then intensified after by the gate all but welcoming them into the odd serenity misplaced in the surroundings - a noise close enough to assent escapes him. ]

Have you heard anything of the faiths here? I cannot say they were high on my list of investigations.

[ He's walked past a few places which looked like they could be places of worship but none of them seemed as ready to welcome them as this place does despite their just arriving. Is he stalling ever so slightly for a chance to quell the unease? Probably. (Definitely.)

It's this or they stay in the car, however, and so Sunday glances to Emet-Selch in return. ]

Perhaps there will be someone inside to explain which may offer us some insight.

[ Like on whether to stay or leave, wherever either option may take them. ]

[unsunder]

[ In a normal world, he'd simply teleport away — with or without the catboy in tow, whatever suited his mood at the time. Here, however, he hasn't that luxury.

No, as ever Emet-Selch is simply convinced that he's on the receiving end of one of fate's cruel jokes. As if being here was not enough, as if being here with several members of the Warrior of Light's retinue was not enough. He seems to be destined to be stuck in situations with this man in particular, situations where they are better served by working together than being at odds.

How annoying. ]

If you've a particular fondness for pocket lint and old receipts, then by all means, help yourselves.

[ The remark earns him an unkind jab between his shoulder blades with the business end of a rifle. ]

No one asked you, smart-ass.

[ Emet-Selch simply lifts a shoulder. ]

Suit yourself.

[ With his hands still raised above his head, Emet-Selch simply does what it is he does best, and snaps his fingers. There is a brief moment of silence, enough for someone to start to voice some sort of question or further demand, and then quite suddenly, a hail of purple, luminous spears rain down on the men surrounding them.

Some of them strike true, some don't, but either way, the scene is chaos between flying magicks and the cloud of dirt and viscera kicked up by the repeated impacts. Now would be the time to run, but in the distance, drawn by the sounds of chaos, a beam of light begins to sweep over the grass. ]

[godjr]

[ Listen, with the constant weirdness of Jack's life, the mannequin probably doesn't climb to the highest level. It feels more like one of the smaller cases that the Winchesters take on the road. Frank hasn't done anything as of now outside of follow him around. He's tried making holy water, using himself to make it holy, but he's pretty sure it didn't work. There was no reaction either way. He tried to disassemble it, but the pile of pieces reformed themselves once he left the room and came back. So now it's just his companion.

He smiles brightly at the compliment, so terribly pleased that he did well in picking them out. Jack went through a few dozen sunglasses before picking these out as what he thought was the 'coolest' for Benny. He looks like a cool guy, his hat for example. ]

I'm glad! I looked for hats for you first, but none of them felt like they would suit you better than yours.

[ Jack tried on several of them himself and found out pretty quickly he's not a good hat person. He did like a cowboy hat but it didn't suit him as well as his fathers, so he left it behind. ]

This is Frank. [ Jack waves a hand at the mannequin. ] I think it's cursed or possessed. I tried all the hunter tricks and none of them worked.

[longtooth]

[ Fern frowns when Alucard looks for ways to justify why it might be acceptable to take advantage of the offerings here. She doesn't like it one bit, and gives a rushed shake of her head. ]

This place might also be trying to influence you. We can't draw conclusions between one zone and the next, either. They're all their own beast.

[ Felix had confirmed for her that there was no noticeable pattern between the diffusion zones. Each one had its own set of rules and its own potential dangers. Fern realizes that her experience in the Amber Temple may be coloring her perspective of this place, but she also doesn't see that as a bad thing.

She makes a beckoning gesture with her hand, hoping that Alucard will move away from the fountain's flowing waters.

After a moment of hesitation, she realizes she might have better chance of convincing him if she explains herself. With a sigh, she adds: ] ... There was a temple much like this we ventured into, back in Barovia. It held great power, but at great cost.

[cryptsleeper]

You're correct enough about everything being wholly unto itself. It's a shame, as it completely destroys any chance of pattern recognition.

[Alucard exhales, disappointed but not surprised. With that said though, he shows no sign of standing up. Even if gestured. Let him at least have the sound of flowing water for a few minutes.

Then Fern begins to talk, and the introduction is enough for him to understand there's some past experience at play. He stands, looking around for a less intrusive place to sit.

There's a small niche a few feet away. He moves there, hoping she'll follow.]

What did it demand?

[kingsroads]

It's hard to parse out intent, [ Strange muses, as he idly makes a little gesture in the air. He's frowning at seemingly nothing as the conversation continues. ]

What I can gather is that we are sustaining these offerings. They are here because we see them and believe that they should be here.

[ Which does make Strange wonder...what exactly are these offerings hiding? What does the temple not want them to see? ]

b. handwaving they exchanged names last time

[hexcurse]

You alright, Sunday?

[ It's Jayce coming up the aisle in the corner of his eye, drawn by Sunday's voice, approaching as others are retreating. He's not here for grocery shopping, on the hunt for his own hitchhiker instead, and finding a different sort of trouble. ]

[godjr]

[ Jack reacted in the start by just carrying the mannequin around with him and calling it Frank. He hadn't figured out how dangerous it was, and thought it was possibly possessed. After trying everything the hunters would recommend to get rid of those things, all non-lethal, he decided to leave it be. Until it started becoming a real threat to people. He still calls it Frank, but usually to scold it. Since fire is the thing they haven't tried yet, it feels like it's time to go to the extreme.

He frowns. He doesn't like the idea of doing anything to Rowena, so he shakes his head, rolling his shoulders. ]

Use yours. I want to make sure you're safe.

[ Jack's power is simply too unstable to know whether he could hurt past the reasonable level. He could end up burning down half the street if he isn't doing it right. He trusts Rowena's skills far more than hers, and then he's free to protect her if anything goes wrong. If the mannequins react to her power, he will have his telekinesis ready. ]

[pse]

[ She can't go too far with the hitchhiker's weight settled on the bumper guard, but Kimiko is able to hand over the bag. Inside it is three cans of hairspray and a grill lighter. Pulling a folded up piece of paper from her pocket, she also offers it to Logan.

It reads:

Burn it.

Hopefully, with the bag in hand, he can put two and two together. (The hairspray is simply because a can of gasoline would have been quite expensive in comparison.)

As for the hitchhiker, it is simultaneously merry and antagonistic, unbothered and bearing teeth. After all, it is Kimiko — why is it the one that has to die? With a grin that borders on a snarl, it continues speaking. ]

It doesn't matter who dies today. You're still next, old man.

[ Kimiko rounds on it, but finds she can't go any further. It's like an invisible wall has been erected between her and it. She can place her fingers on it, leave a cloud of her breath, but she can't break it down.

The hitchhiker sticks out its tongue at her. It's extremely childish. ]

B.

[godjr]

[ Jack is in a situation where the motorcycle is a problem. He has tried to tie the mannequin to him so he can drive back to the mall and leave it there, but it throws off his balance and he keeps crashing. And he's not supposed to crash his motorcycle anymore, it'll definitely break with the rough handling. So he's tried other things to try and handle it, but so far, it's all come up empty.

He's thinking about that when Eddie taps his shoulder, raising his eyebrows and then nodding respectfully. Of course he'll move. Eddie might be too distracted by attacking the mannequin to notice that Jack fully teleports out of the way rather than moves normally. He understands exactly what he's doing and why; a lot of people are a bit frazzled by them. ]

I'm not sure if it'll help. [ He admits. ] I fully disassembled Frank and he showed up the next day intact again.

[ Jack was relatively peaceful about it, he just hadn't been able to figure out whether it was cursed, so he thought that the easiest thing to do was to make it into parts. That didn't work out so well for him. For the first time, Frank managed to startle him after appearing again. ]

Have you tried sending it back to where it came from?

[messenger]

"Jack, calm down!" Maybe not the best way to deal with an archangel, but what other choice does he have? He can only hope that Jack is too distracted by the outside threat to notice his own fear— His racing heart and racing mind. He holds his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, stepping closer as the building around them continues to rumble. Castiel expects it to begin to fall in, sheaves of dust and stone— But it doesn't. For some reason, it doesn't.

He hasn't yet noticed the bodies.

Jack has taken up all of his attention.

[magike]

( there's fondness in her expression when rowena looks at jack, taking a moment to look over him as she smiles. she takes his hand, squeezing it gently, a show that his words mean something, but also her own trust in him. he may be afraid of his powers, and if she saw fire out of control she would be too, but she's not afraid of him.

her eyes light up violet as rowena lifts a hand, drawing her magic to her. the gesture is small and simple, a closing of her hand in a motion over the mannequin as she utters the spell.

the mannequin lights on fire, that part's expected. what isn't expected are the screams coming from the man that the mannequin was linked to, as if rowena was burning him as well. but when she looks he isn't on fire )

[carcajous]

Yeah, you didn't get the notice on your door?

[ If he'd had any lingering doubts about Frank being a plain and simple human, that basically puts them to rest. Still, the man's not looking at him like he's a liar or like he's dropped some kinda bomb.

He absorbs the detail, confirmation that it's something to do with the mannequin fucking with the man's reaction. Was Karen the same? Hard to say. She isn't a soldier, isn't a trained fighter. He wouldn't expect her not to hesitate. Frank's a different story, though, and if he says he locked up for no reason, Logan believes him. He just hasn't experienced this thing himself. Which is weird. He was riding out in the Fringes for a week, maybe more, and he came back with nothing unusual. No plastic doppelgänger hanging around him. Nobody wearing his face.

Guess he got lucky. Or rather, everybody else got lucky 'cause Logan has no clue what the fuck he was gonna do if a version of him was slashing its way across the city. ]

Before you walked in, it was sitting there, eating off an empty plate. Think it wanted me to join. [ Pure mimicry. ] So if it was you, where'd you go to make your next move?

[godjr]

( Jack has managed to avoid the raiders but mostly just by being in the mall exploring rather than paying attention to the exit or entrance. Not very hunter of him, to not be keeping close eye on escape, but he's a powerhouse so he's the worst at remembering that when he's on his own. Plus he's been finding a lot of gifts to scavenge for other people.

He found a 90's backpack that has helped him store things in and he has it on now, a light jeans with colorful patches. He's filled up the backpack entirely, it's near overflowing. Jack is walking around not paying attention, looking around the mall and at the decorations and mannequins, so he also doesn't notice Frank until he reaches out. Then he's tugged around a pillar and out of sight and he looks genuinely surprised, although he doesn't make any noise. He's learned that if someone is pulling him places, there is probably a good reason.

The explanation makes him frown and he carefully peeks around the pillar to see the people Frank's talking about. They do look like they're up to no good. He's heard about the raiders but not come across them yet. It's then that he gets a good look at his new friend and sees the arsenal on him. )

Thank you for the warning.

( He says, hushed, back. Jack can just teleport around them, but he's not going to do that to a stranger if they haven't been spotted yet. )

You're not going to actually fight all of them with those, are you?

[unsunder]

I had a similar thought, yes.

[ He glances out the window again. The searchlight is sweeping farther afield, so this might be their best chance. ]

I cannot control it once I set it loose, so we will simply have to go whichever way it does not and hope it's enough.

Shadow people

[godjr]

[Feel free to have Clint be violent at him as the monster if you want, he's auto-healing so he'll just keep trying to reason with him.]




[ Jack's been foraging through the mall for hours picking up items he wants to give to people, and he found a sizable 90's style backpack which has become invaluable. It may be his favorite thing he's found in this world so far. It's stuffed with clothes and items now and he thinks he'll have to come back a second time to get more. He can't store things in a car as he only has a motorcycle.

He hears someone shout for Millie and goes looking for him. It's a male voice so he knows it's not her, and he has looked everywhere for the girl himself, but maybe they can do better looking together. It takes him a little time to zero in on where the voice came from and by then Clint's moved on, so he putters around before finding himself at the playground. That's when he spots him, also curious about the shadow people, but blue eyes fall on Clint a little late. ]

Wait, don't touch it!

[ Jack hasn't touched them himself but that's because he's a trained hunter and he knows better than to touch things like that. It reminds him a little bit of the androids so he figured there was nothing they could do for them. He just has a feeling that they should leave the shadows alone, but it's already happened. He approaches Clint with some active concern, unsure what might be done to him by these strange entities. ]

Are you okay?

Two - clothes

[godjr]

(Jack's found a backpack, 90's style of course, which has been incredibly helpful in storing the items that he's scavenging in. It has a lot of pockets. He loves it. He can't bring a suitcase because of his motorcycle so this was a lucky find. He is wearing three flannel shirts, two of them far too long for him because it's for his much taller father, and he has two pairs of sunglasses perched on his head. The number of bracelets and necklaces he has on are numerous, and they're all tacky and from a store similar to Claire's.

So he doesn't really fit a suit shop but he's interested at least in looking around. The suits he's worn were for work when pretending to be FBI, and they never fit him well because they were meant for other people. He typically has a very simple style, jeans and t-shirts, so even the flannel is not right on him. And colorful. He raises his eyebrow watching the man in white looking at more and more white. Raising his eyebrows moves his forehead so a pair of sunglasses falls down onto his eyes. He has to push it back up.)

Aren't you worried that too much white will get stained?

( Jack wears plenty of white but he is meticulous about not getting anything on it. Maybe this guy is just the same way and really good at avoiding it. It would seem like a shame to wear a white suit and then drop food on it.)

[carcajous]

[ What's he talking about? What does Scott mean, what's he talking about? Can't he hear it? The howl, the rumbling?

Here's the thing: Logan might not like Scott, and he might not like most of his decisions, but he can typically see the logic in them, can see what Scott's trying to do even when he doesn't agree with whatever that goal is. At the end of the day, they're both soldiers. That's what they have in common. He'll acknowledge that much.

He can't see what Scott's trying to do here. Except get both their asses killed. ]

Shut up. Listen to me. [ He steps in front of Scott, grabs him by the lapels, and gives the man a good fuckin' shake. ] That is not Jean, you understand? I don't know what the fuck's gotten into you, but you need to snap out of it right now.

[ What is it? A hallucination, hypnotism, something else? Logan isn't sure. He isn't sure if it's coming from the ghostly figure herself or from this place or something inside Scott's own brain, but for once, Logan's not annoyed and he isn't pissed. He isn't even being difficult. He's just desperate to get Scott outta here—because the longer they stand in the middle of this mist, the closer that light sweeps. And they're not alone, either. Those cars earlier? They've stopped, too. Occupants have gotten out.

Now they're also in the field, footsteps rustling as they whisper among themselves. The beam flicks left. Then left. Left. Steady, like a ticking clock. ]

[cryptsleeper]

I ask because intent is a foundational part of magic back home.

[He'll have to explain, Alucard knows that, but at least Strange will be intrigued enough to hear him out.]

So if one decided that they're false or should not be here, then everything would immediately disappear from view? That's the logical conclusion, at any rate.