quietplacelogs | INTRO LOG #3

INTRO LOG #3
Put a Sock in It
Content Warnings: Disorientation, memory loss, confusion
Themes: Arrival, survival, exploration, horror

You wake, standing. A thick, muddy red dust coats your skin and clothes - it sticks to your tongue and blocks your vision. Inhale and it chokes you, exhale and your breath puffs out in front of your face in a transparent maroon cloud. It tastes of copper, tangy and harsh. Movement is difficult, every limb tingles and aches. Look to your left, your right. Evenly spaced in each direction stands another person indistinguishable in every way from the next. You're disoriented and lethargic, unable to grasp onto a single thought. A pinprick of light blooms ahead and grows steadily larger; a door has opened.

Hands grip your wrists, push at the small of your back and guide you out of the darkness into a room with four walls and a thin, sagging ceiling. The plaster is peeling, the air is musty, and the floor is slick. White plastic piping juts up from the center and curves into multiple spouts, clean water flowing in uneven streams. Those hands pull your clothes off and clear the dust from your body, redress you in handsewn jumpsuits. By the time they’re through, you will have begun to come back to yourself.

A finger is pressed to your lips. Kind eyes meet your own and a single word is whispered - hush.

Led out of the room in a line, you’re taken down a short hallway and into another, much larger room. There’s a woman waiting for you there, Constance, with a child hugging her leg - a cloth bag in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out a device, passes one to each of you. Once finished, she begins to move both hands in graceful gestures, a language. One of the people who helped you lifts their device and the screen lights up, tracks the woman’s hands. Letters appear on the screen and you understand the device’s purpose. She tells you what she knows and it’s not much.

This world is haunted. Noise attracts them, so it is not allowed. Communication is through body language, soundless writing, and the device. She tells you that your feet must be light and your mouth never used. There is a community outside these doors, where you can survive together, but only if you agree to one thing: complete and total silence. You'll have time to talk it over. You may ask one question and receive one answer. There are others like you in the room, those who'd come earlier. They're there to help.

Acceptance allows you to journey outside. The ground is marked in pathways of sand, lining the paths to each building and everywhere in-between. You notice that the locals hold their devices always, aloft and glance to it often. It will not vibrate or make a sound to signal a message. Notices appear. Rules. Guidelines. Feet on the sand and never anywhere else. To open a door you brush your fingers along the hinges - oiled and you may enter. If not, take the brush from the can sitting nearby and coat the metal with the dark liquid.

Now, you're to settle into your new home – with or without the help of those who have come before you.

In Freakish Flight
Content Warnings: Threat to safety, death, weird creatures
Themes: Plot, survival

This is the tale that was told to me by the man with the crystal eye,
As I smoked my pipe in the camp-fire light, and the Glories swept the sky;
As the Northlights gleamed and curved and streamed, and the bottle of "hooch" was dry.

The new arrivals are here, like clockwork it seems. A strange occurrence that the natives haven't missed. They don't have answers but following support and encouragement from some of the older arrivals, they have been looking into it. If they notice anything odd, they post it to the bulletin board and they're working as hard as ever to help. Settling in is easier this time around, smoother, as everyone is more prepared than before. The first few days go well, one of the natives finds a patch of wild berries and makes fresh jam - serves it with breakfast until it runs out. There's a nice breeze that night, not too hot and not too cold. The stars twinkle and the moon is full, a pleasant atmosphere rolls through the community as everyone falls asleep.

Everyone wakes to the soft sounds of birds chirping. There's a light fog, windows misted over, and abruptly, it goes quiet. The only way to see outside is to open the door and those curious ~~brave~~ enough will find, covered in red dust, a handful of individually unique creatures scattered around the fountain at the center of the community. There's about fourteen of them - each one focused on the door of the main residences and two have scurried off towards the others, quiet now but watching. After the first door opens, they move, stopping only when they're right in front of each of the houses and then the sounds start again. Louder.

OOC: Removing the threat, these creatures, is possible in a few ways. They have a weakness for water, which slows them down and shuts them up. They can be killed, the same as any normal animal might. Or they can be captured, something tied around their bills to silence them. Unfortunately, only a few will survive being caught alive ( we randomized out of the twelve houses - 5, 1, 2, 12, and Private Housing (Sora) and the Permanent Apartments ) and can be kept for study. The players in each house can decide what they want to do with them or use the comment below if they want to hand it over. As a side note, the dead ones can be kept too.

Alone or Together
Content Warnings: Poisoning
Themes: Plot

Up until now everything around here has been, well, pleasant. Recently certain things have become unpleasant. Now, it seems to me that the first thing we have to do is to separate out the things that are pleasant from the things that are unpleasant.

The natives have been up front about those that came through the Reset Room before. Some left, some didn't survive, and a few now call themselves natives. The above message lights up everyone's devices ( username - lamar ) but all ways to respond are disabled. A follow up message comes from Constance, explaining that they don't know how the message has been sent due to the fact that Lamar has been dead for over a decade. That night at dinner, the set up in town hall, the natives are abuzz talking about the mysterious message. Food is passed out. Drinks are had.

Before the first person leaves the hall, a plume of red dust sprays out from an old vent near the floor boards and fills the room. Quickly, all color is leached from the world. Every person is now color blind, seeing everything in varying shades of black, white, and grey as they cough and choke, trying to clear the dust from their faces and mouths. Was this Lamar? Was this the person who rigged up the noise machine in Verdel Square? What did the message mean?

OOC: The effects will fade after twenty four hours. All arrivals, new and old, plus all natives will be effected. For each character, one person will still be in color. Players can decide who this is. A friend, lover, enemy, one of the natives.

OOC
From your mods:

Please be mindful of content - if something triggery comes up or if it goes up a rating to say, something sexy, mark your threads in the subject line. We're very flexible and allow any material; we just want our players to be respectful of each other. If you have questions, pp the mod account, use the faq or comment to the appropriate post below. Have fun!

NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

only dead people get to use cool ghost emojis did they teach you nothing in Emoji Academy 👻

I have never attended the Academy, I'm entirely self taught. What do you consider dead?

dead. no longer livin? Unable to do, say, think.
all that

But you're saying (in letters, at least), and you're doing and thinking as well. Maybe not clearly, because you used the little ghost, too.

[Wait.]

Are you a ghost yourself?

Not a ghost, no.

was dead before I got here though and that should count for something. at least give me a bloody tshirt instead of this hideous romper

That does count for something, I think. I thought similarly of myself until I found out I was not dead in my world.

However: I've died once in one of these places. 🎆🎆🎆 That might count for something, too.

You know, if they hadn't taken my things, or if I could do so soundlessly, I could make you a "tee shirt".

You'd have to bloody it yourself. ;-)

Well, I was. And that's where I wanted to be. So you can see how this is all a little too on the nose for me.

one of these places? You mean an alt reality? [ ok now she has his attention. ] Was it anything like this crapshack?

Trust me though got no problems bloodying anything. I'm gonna get my clothes back and those wankers'll be sorry

"On the nose" is a phrase that I don't know, but I think I can guess what you mean.

The last one, not really, no. Only in that we could not leave it out of desire alone, I can't speak on the one that came before that. I can only hope that this place is not worse. At first glance it doesn't seem to be.

💩💩💩 or not, I don't think it's the same kind of Hell.

Do you know how to get them back? I've seen worse, but I'd rather not spend my time in this jumping suit. And gods be good, I miss my shoes.

on the money? bingo? yahtzee? ding ding ding you're a winner

How many of these places you been to??

I'm just gonna march right up to those tossers and tell em to give me my coat back or they're goingto regret being born. Wanna come?

Shoes are the dog's bollocks. I miss em too, luv.

Four, when I count this one. How many for you?

I would come with you, if you are serious. I should like to ask them for my things back, too. It might be futile, but if there's more than one of us ...perhaps it won't be. You can threaten them, and if hat doesn't work we can move on to reasonable discussion. Bargaining. Not sure what comes next.

The dog's bollocks. :-D. Count that one in with the others, but I catch the meaning, I think. I almost laughed aloud at it. Which means I should tell my sister at once.

been to a few different dimensions, but nothin like this. you're four ahead. though I used to know this witch, we dated actually, for about a century. And she liked to talk about places like this. she was a little around the bend, you know, so I never put much stock into it. guess ol Dru was right though. Damn.

Of course I'm bloody serious! I worked hard for that coat they can't just take it from me. bunch of wankers

glad to be of service, luv. Don't laugh so loud the monsters hear wouldn't want that on my already weighty conscience. [ wait ] Your sister's here too?

A witch? You know, I hadn't really believed in witches (besides being terrified of the idea of them) but three worlds after my own I've found them to be mostly agreeable ...with a few terrifying exceptions. A century is a very long time, at least for someone like me. Are you a wizard yourself?

Then we should ask them for it back. A coat shouldn't be terribly hard to make silent unless it's made of mail or covered in little metal parts or bells.

She is. :-) I'm mostly glad of it. It's selfish of me, but I missed her. I don't wish danger on most people, but she often welcomes it, and she's the least fearful person I know. Of all of us she's likely the best suited for a place such as this, except for maybe our brother, Jon and his wolf.

Did you find anyone here that you knew from your world that you were glad to see? Maybe your witch?

your brother has a wolf? damn what's an admit one to your family tree cost?

not a wizard. Just old. I know one girl here. she's a good sort, fearless too. I've been sticking close by her.

The witch isn't mine anymore, it wouldn't be a happy reunion if she showed up.

We all had them, the six of us, once. But yes, his is white and a mute, which would be a blessing here.

These days, I'm not so sure. There was a time I might have japed bitterly about being dead, or been steadfast that it was blood and only blood, but I don't think that's always true. I've met others with the name Stark who are not of my world, so I know it's not wholly in the name. ;-)

That's good. It can be very lonely and difficult on one's own. Especially as one grows older. I hope she's of help to you.

Oh. Well, I pray for your sake she doesn't! Those sorts of reunions are the ...worst kind most times.

a mute wolf. oKAY

familys never really about name, is it? or even blood. It's about who's there when it's down to the wire.

More like I hope I'm of help to her but hey, I'm glad you have your sister.

You're telling me. we had a particularly nasty one a few years back. doubt she'd be keen on a repeat performance any more than I am

INTRO LOG #3

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