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

Adrian Silverleaf | Original Character (D&D)

[faithfall]

[ plotting comment 👁️ PM or themightysra ]

eliot.

[faithfall]

[ This whole situation with the mannequins only seems to be getting more and more out of hand. Though he's spent most of the evening working at the clinic, Adrian makes his way to the markets to see if any of the salvage shops still remain open at this late hour. Thus far, there have been only wild rumors regarding how one might sever the connection between mannequin and person, and he has some vain hope that he might be able to study it if he can acquire the right spell ingredients. Surely, someone will be willing to sell him a single pearl.

He's just about to duck into a storefront when he hears the sound of someone crying nearby, and then a familiar voice, far more soothing than he would have expected it to be capable of. Adrian pauses, listening for a few moments before he steps away from the doorway and moves toward the alley.

Someone has managed to stuff a narrow little toy shop into the alleyway by stretching a colorful tarp between one building and the next. It's lined all the way down with large machines covered in once-bright paint that seem to accept joolies in exchange for cheerful-looking prizes. Another time, it might have been charming, but Adrian can see that the lights on many of the machines are broken, and the tune that plays from one of them is slow and discordant.

There are three people only a few feet into the alley. A boy who couldn't be more than twelve summers, and an even younger girl, who is holding tightly to his hand — the source of the sobbing, from the puffy look to her eyes. Eliot has crouched in front of them, and the girl is nodding along while the boy speaks.

...usually cheers her up, but that's when we saw it. Do you know how to get rid of it, mister?

Eliot's gaze keeps shifting to one of the machines, and Adrian follows it. Inside, a mannequin the size of a child has pressed its hands against the glass, its featureless face angled toward the pair of children, intent.

Adrian steps forward, one hand curled in front of his chest, absently wishing his fingers would close on the spellcasting focus he no longer carries. ]

If there's anyone who can help you, it's Eliot. [ Adrian smiles warmly despite his exhaustion, turning on all the charm he has left. The boy regards him with the wry suspicion of a child who has grown up far too quickly, but seems to decide that he's no immediate danger. ] Could I speak to you for just a moment, Mr. Spenser? I have... something that might be useful.

[retrievalist]

[ He keeps smiling, even if all he wants to do is roll his eyes at the sound of Adrian's voice. Which, he'll admit, is pretty uncharitable seeing as how Eliot is plumb out of ideas on how to fix things, but despite how they left things last time the reaction is now pretty ingrained.

But it doesn't do anything to help the kids so instead he straightens up out of his crouch, fighting the urge to reach out and set a hand on a bony shoulder, or on the top of a messy head of hair.

I'll be right back, okay. Just stay right there.

The girl nods but tears well up again in her already red eyes. Next to her the boy's expression shutters, something sad settling in his too small shoulders. Eliot keeps his smile until he turns away to follow Adrian a small distance away. ]

You better not just be saying that.

[faithfall]

[ Adrian nods, taking no offense for once. He's certainly been foolish enough to make promises he couldn't keep for the sake of shoring up doomed hope, but he has learned his lessons from that — and he can't fault Eliot for ensuring it. ]

Allow me to explain. [ He flicks open the buttons on one of his sleeves and pushes it up as he speaks. His entire arm, from wrist to elbow, is tattooed in nearly illegible handwriting. The skin of his arm writhes, feathers beginning to poke through, though Adrian pays it no more than cursory attention. The bulk of Eliot's body is a useful blind to prevent the children from seeing this, so he might as well summon Morgan, since he'll have need of her. ] I can't break the curse itself — my magic isn't strong enough — but I am able to transfer the mannequin's connection to another willing host. I will take it. You need only reassure the children that all is well. I suspect my appearance is not the most comforting, and neither is the appearance of my magic... But I would not risk harming a child with anything I was not entirely certain of.

[ Morgan takes only a few seconds to fully emerge from his arm, hopping up to his shoulder to preen her feathers. Golden eyes line the tops of her wings, a single large one peeking out from the center of her chest. Otherwise, she looks like an ordinary white raven. Adrian twists the buttons closed at his wrist again with practiced ease. ] Mr. Spencer, are you listening?

[retrievalist]

[ No he's NOT listening because a BIRD with EYES ON ITS WINGS just came out of your ARM, ADRIAN, and that's NOT NORMAL.

There's a full thirty seconds of staring: at the eyes, and then at the bird, and then at Adrian's arm, only to circle back to the eyes again. One of them blinks (winks?) at him. Eliot thinks he should have just stayed in bed today.

And then what Adrian just said registers. ]

What? No, that's stupid. If you've got magic [ and he definitely doesn't stutter over the word, not at all ] that can affect that curse or whatever it is then it doesn't make sense for you to go and saddle yourself with it. What if it starts interfering with your magic? How're you gonna help people then?

[ It's here that Eliot would maybe flick Adrian on his empty head to emphasise his point, but he remembers vividly what happened to the last person to touch Adrian. Instead he settles for glaring, and does his best to ignore the eyes blinking (winking?) at him again in the corner of his vision. ]

Give it to me instead.

[faithfall]

[ Oh, Adrian thinks, feeling just the smallest trace of guilt. Eliot is less accustomed to magic than he had assumed. Perhaps he should have warned the poor man... but an admittedly terrible part of him finds it amusing, perhaps even charming, just this once. He doubts that Eliot is the sort of man who's often caught on the back foot. He's marginally less irritating when he's flustered.

Then of course he has to go and volunteer himself, and any charm Adrian might have been willing to give him credit for simply melts back into irritation. He knows immediately that Eliot is right. He ought not to argue and yet— ]

That's — the same could happen to you! What if it takes your... [ Though he's careful not to touch Eliot, he makes a sharp gesture, imitating one of the movies he's seen Eliot use in a fight. Though the position of his hand is bizarrely accurate, the rest of his body doesn't really follow suit, and it's clear that he's only mimicking without any real context for how it works. The effect is mostly just awkward. Even Morgan looks embarrassed. ] Half of the city might end up unconscious before nightfall with your talents on the loose... But I suppose you have a point.

[ Adrian taps his fist against the center of his palm. ] Fine, but you will allow me to transfer it again before it bonds with you, if it comes to that. I've seen what happens to people who have been bonded too long, and I'll not see you suffer such a gruesome fate. Am I clear, Mr. Spencer?

[ There is, of course, very little that he can do to actually enforce this condition, but if Eliot is just going to offer himself up like this, Adrian will do his level best to ensure that he isn't harmed — whether Eliot likes it or not. ]

[retrievalist]

[ Eliot's mouth twitches, fighting and losing his battle against a smile. He's is stupidly charmed by Adrian's awkward movements, he'll admit. It's a pretty good imitation too; Adrian must have been paying pretty close attention to him to be able to remember it so clearly, but then again, if this kid's got a thing for him then it's not much of a surprise.

But the smile doesn't last long. Eliot rolls his eyes at Adrian's attempt at a stern warning. As if Eliot wants to wander around with a cursed doll dogging his heels. As if he doesn't have enough shit to deal with. ]

Alright already, I got it. Let's just get this done; these kids have suffered enough.

viktor.

[faithfall]

[ Normally, Adrian would be fine doing this sort of thing in a motel room or something of the sort, but when Viktor (through Jayce, most likely) was one of the few people who had gotten back to him about the possession, he knew he couldn't very well ask the man to cram himself into one of those. Instead, Adrian has found an "office rental" that appears to be composed of two "shipping containers" fused together. Even at this time of day, the crudely cut windows don't let much light inside, but there are a few bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling to provide some illumination.

The furniture is comprised of a wobbly desk (no chair) and a bare mattress in the far corner that he has declined to investigate. It's fine. All he needs is the space, and a dirty mattress won't tempt him to take the nap his body so desperately wants.

He meets Viktor at the 'door'; impossible to miss him, really. ]

Ah, there you are. [ Adrian smiles, warm. ] It was good of you agree to all of this, Mr. Viktor. How are you fairing?

[mechatheism]

[Viktor would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by Adrian's magic, and by learning more about it in turn. He hasn't forgotten the offer to teach Jayce, either, and though he still knows very little about how magic works in this place, he finds it an avenue worth exploring.

Even if Jayce hasn't come around to it, yet. They're both reluctant, but Viktor is made of magic, more or less, which means he knows he won't be able to stay away for long. Adrian invites them to discuss current matters, and Viktor obliges.

The shipping container means he doesn't necessarily need to duck to come inside. He's wearing a hooded cloak, an apparent attempt to obfuscate his upsetting appearance--though it's not needed, here, and he pushes back he hood with one hand, nodding in greeting.]

Well enough. [He and Jayce are taking all this in stride, but finding a feasible lead on how to send someone home has been a struggle. He pauses for a moment to take in his surroundings, gaze flicking, briefly, to the heinous mattress in the corner.] Are you...staying here?

[faithfall]

[ Adrian wrinkles his nose immediately. ] Oh, goodness no. I thought it might be easier for you to move around at your impressive stature... and since we don't know yet how our magic might interact, it seemed a fair precaution.

[ He looks up at Viktor, brows drawn together in an apologetic expression. ] I will make it up to you some time, I promise. I wouldn't have you think of me as a poor host.

[ He's only half-joking. Learning to work with limited funds has been an often uphill endeavor, and treating his companions in a way that would be horribly disrespectful in his ordinary life is... difficult.

But no matter — they're here to work. ] Please... stand? Wherever you like. But they um, rent this place by the hour, so I wouldn't touch the mattress.

[ Adrian moves back to the desk so that he can pile his gloves onto the edge of it and roll up his sleeves. His arms are inked from wrist to elbow in nearly illegible writing. ] I won't take too much of your time. There are just a couple of spells I'd like to try... One of them will require me to ritual cast, so it will be perhaps ten, fifteen minutes? Has your magic yielded any information with regards to our plastic friends?

[ He can't imagine that Viktor hasn't tried something, with a mind like his, but he only understands the man's magic in a very rudimentary way. He has no idea, really, what it might be capable of. ]

[mechatheism]

[Well, that's something of a relief, though Viktor isn't sure how he feels about being accommodated. One might get the sense that he'd carry himself awkwardly no matter the size of the room. He offers another glance to the sad, sad mattress.]

Noted.

[To be avoided.

Viktor is, at least, pleased to help Adrian, both wanting to learn more about his particular brand of magic and confident that he could weather some degree of testing in this department. He's more resilient than a normal human, after all.

It does not solve the immediate problem of the hitchhikers--but that's what this is about.]

Many of my abilities require physical contact. These entities have...evaded me, so far.

[faithfall]

They are infuriatingly difficult to pin down. [ Adrian agrees with a sigh. ] That would have been much easier for me as well. Some of my abilities require touch, including this one, but I can't touch most people without causing them harm.

[ Adrian holds his arm out. There's a fluttering of wings from outside, and Morgan flies in through the window to land on him. Her many golden eyes follow Viktor, though she sits calmly on Adrian's arm. ] Thankfully, my familiar can handle that part of the arrangement safely... if you don't mind holding her for the duration?

[ He's normally more apologetic about Morgan's appearance, but he suspects that Viktor will not be alarmed by what amounts to a white raven with a few extra eyes. ]

What sort of information can you learn from physical contact, Mr. Viktor? Do you require a ritual as well?

[ Thus far, he's only seen Viktor using his sequences to repair the van, but he knows that there must be many other applications. He's curious about them, and about Viktor himself. While he doesn't wish to invade the man's privacy, he does wonder if his spell will reveal more than just information about the mannequins... ]

[mechatheism]

[He's not alarmed by the appearance of the bird (Viktor feels he has no real right to be shocked by anything strange, given his own body), but it does raise some questions. Interesting, that Adrian says his very touch is harmful. Viktor's head tilts, slightly, processing the new information.

He'll also oblige the request to hold the bird, and he tries to be gentle, holding out a hand and remaining very still.]

I can discern the nature of someone, through touch. Their minds.

[This is somewhat uncomfortable to admit--and he's still leaving out the whole story, not wanting Adrian to balk. Viktor knows this isn't exactly reassuring, but he wants to emphasize that understands the potential for breaches of privacy, and his desire to avoid that.]

I try to keep my hands to myself.

alucard.

[faithfall]

[ He had promised Fern that he wouldn't go into the temple alone. Every time he's had to stop here to rest, either on the way to the mall or on the way back from it, the temptation has steadily grown. Not just the sense of something inviting him in, but the increasing desperation to scavenge the ingredients he needs for spellcasting. He certainly can't afford to buy them outright.

When Adrian pulls into the driveway this time, there are other vehicles around as usual. Some of them haven't moved since his first visit, and he tries not to think about that too much.

When he gets out to stretch his legs, someone else is already making their way toward the temple gates. Adrian squints after him. He could be entirely wrong, but — the man does look exactly as Fern described. Despite the wide variety of people here, few of them seem to keep their hair long and open in this environment. There's a certain impracticality to it, he supposes.

Adrian locks the van and jogs a few steps closer to the man, stopping well before he might be intruding on personal space. ]

Excuse me, sir — My apologies for troubling you, but you wouldn't happen to be Mr. Alucard, would you?

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.]

[faithfall]

Oh — if you insist. [ He's more surprised than anything. It feels overly informal, but he's gotten more accustomed to that over time, so he'll do his best to drop the honorific. ] I believe you know Lady Fern? I'm a friend of hers, from home.

Adrian Silverleaf. [ He places a hand to his chest and inclines his head in greeting. ] Lady Fern spoke highly of you — by her standards. I understand that she interrogated you quite thoroughly.

[ Her words, not his, although he knows how she is. ] I was curious about the temple, myself, so I thought I might seek your company if you would be amenable..?

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard returns the inclined head, the custom easy enough to slip back into. It comes with a very soft laugh at his first encounter with Fern.]

An understandable requirement from her side of the equation, such as I have come to understand it. In confidence, it was nothing more than stating basic facts about myself.

[Just in a very specific tone. But that is neither here nor there.]

If you'd like a second set of eyes and ears, I am happy to oblige. Have you encountered any exteriors like this previously?

[faithfall]

[ Adrian smiles. ] I am truly grateful for your understanding. Lady Fern has a kind heart, but it is for that reason she must guard it carefully... Sometimes with knives.

[ He's certain she'll bristle if she finds out he's said as much, but he can't help encouraging this friendship, even if he was more than a bit suspicious at first. Alucard must know some of the reasons for their weariness already, so he doesn't attempt to explain that part of the situation.

Instead, Adrian turns his attention to the present. He nods at the question. ] I haven't seen one like this exactly, but it is reminiscent of some of the temples we've visited in Barovia. [ Despite himself, Adrian can feel his shoulders tense at the memory. He starts toward the temple again. ] Perhaps the contents will reveal some useful information. What of yourself? Have you seen anything like this?

[cryptsleeper]

Many people do. I've long since stopped taking it personally.

[He includes himself in that statement, although there is no reason for Adrian to know that. To be involved with the night world in any capacity demands this eact approach.]

The architecture is new to me, but that's an especially low bar to clear at present. From what I've already poked my head in and seen, nothing feels especially unusual in presentation but it is extremely abundant.

laszlo.

[faithfall]

[ It seems like a good idea, it really does. Even with the seemingly endless number of shops that the mall has to offer, few of them hold anything even resembling what Adrian is looking for, especially not something so valuable as a real pearl.

When he spots a large mannequin hanging from the ceiling, he barely takes note of the sort of store that it's in. He only cares about its current attire because the brassiere is studded with what look to be real pearls. He can't reach it so high up, but it's simple enough to cast mage hand and attempt to pry a pearl free of the delicate fabric.

It should be simple, it should be easy. It's just that this particular mannequin is being held up by cords that have nearly rotted away, so one gentle tug later the whole thing comes crashing down.

Adrian yelps. Part of a display breaks the fall, lucky for him, but the noise is a cacophony of tumbling clothing racks and broken mannequin parts. The mannequin fully knocks him over, its torso ending up on top of him, pinning him to the floor, its wig flipping up over his face. ]

...Ow. [ He can hear the sound of someone walking in, just at that moment, because of course. Adrian pushes against the scantily clad mannequin to absolutely no avail. His skinny little mage arms are useless. ]

Might I— [ He spits out some hair. ] Request your aid, for just a moment?

[ Surely they can handle this situation in a mature fashion. ]

[haemophile]

[Laszlo, on the other hand, is keenly aware of what kind of store this is. That's why he's in here. Unfortunately, the lingerie is just making him miss his wife, so he's about to go sadly jerk off somewhere, when one of the mannequins unceremoniously crashes to the ground.

He automatically looks up to ensure there aren't more plastic women about to fall from the ceiling, but then he hears someone calling for help. He is not exactly in the habit of answering calls for help, so he's not sure why he's made his way over here, but hell's teeth, is he glad for it.

He laughs. Loudly.] Oh, well done, Catherine the Great! You look like you've got it handled quite well, actually.

[faithfall]

Yes, I'm very impressive. If you wish to take a photo, I beg that you wait until after I've expired from shame.

[ He's really just laying there for a moment to sulk stew in his embarrassment don't mind him. It's only a moment though. He shoves some of the mannequin's hair away from his face and manages to sort of wiggle ineffectively. It's going great.

At least he can now sort of see whoever has joined him. He might be strong, but it's hard to tell at a glance; the man dresses like one of Adrian's more eccentric uncles. He sighs. ] I suppose you lack the strength to move this as well? Or is Miss Catherine here a friend of yours?

[ For anyone else, this might be a manipulation tactic, but it just doesn't occur to Adrian that he's being left here strictly because it's funny. ]

[haemophile]

[Not only is it funny, it's salaciously indecent, though the mannequin mistakenly being referred to as the wayward tsarina takes some of the humor out of it. Likewise, it doesn't occur to Laszlo that this chap is from an entirely different planet.

Still, he's not about to explain the joke, because there's nothing worse than that. Except maybe being called weak, which actually stirs him to take action, so good job.

Laszlo moves closer and crouches down, tilting his head to get a better look. He is about to say something, but he's struck so suddenly with a wave of adrenaline that he's momentarily thrown off; eyes dilating, he holds his hands out as if to request the world steady itself, then blinks hard.]

Fuck my old boots. Hang on, I think I've gone apoplectic. [This is medically impossible, but he doesn't know what else that could have been.]

[faithfall]

[ Later, he will wonder why anyone would choose to hang something so heavy from the ceiling of all places, but at the moment Adrian is just considering kind of wiggling his way to freedom since his sad little caster arms are useless. Maybe he can even ask his new acquaintance to seek the aid of some burly stranger, since this place seems to have a strange abundance of those, except for when Adrian most needs one of them.

When the man steps closer, there's a warning at the tip of his tongue— you needn't strain yourself trying to help or be careful not to touch me but the reaction is sudden enough that Adrian is likewise startled.

He's seen this happen only rarely, and it doesn't bode well. From this angle, it's impossible not to focus on the man's mouth as he speaks, looking for the fangs he already knows he's going to find.

Adrian feels his own heartbeat quicken. He isn't a good liar, but he does try. ] Perhaps you've ingested something unusual recently? I'm sure it will be better if you get some air. And I've changed my mind, actually, I'm quite alright where I am. It's lovely.

[haemophile]

[Fangs? Present. Skin? Ashen. Outfit? Ostentatious with an entirely inappropriate amount of lace. Say it out loud.

Laszlo takes a deep breath that he doesn't need, only halfway listening. He hasn't really felt like this since he'd gone hunting round Wall Street in the 1980s, but he is one hundred percent certain he hasn't just consumed a bunch of cocaine blood.

It does occur to him that he's being dismissed, though, which is fine with him.]

All right. Far be it from me to interrupt a person's bizarre attempts at getting off. [He is pro-bizarre attempts at getting off, naturally.

He straightens and turns to leave, though he only takes a few steps before the euphoria disappears so abruptly that it's like he's been suddenly hit by a car. He stops dead and spins around on the spot, pointing.]

Dark Lord's balls. Was that you?