April Intro: The Flower Ripens in its Place

[lifeaftr_mods]

INTRO LOG: APRIL

Who: Everyone!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: April 3rd and onward
Where: Ziziphus
Warnings: Mark as needed!

A9: Sow the Seed
Unbeknownst to new arrivals, the archipelago of LifeAftr has recently seen the appearance of a new island, as chosen via voting - and they have been unceremoniously placed there instead of upon Ensō, where most newcomers would typically appear. It's probably for the best that the island of Ziziphus is so outwardly peaceful. There are worse places to find yourself, all things considered. The mana pool glimmers with a greenish light, the stone ring containing that peculiar fluid set firmly into the earth. The surrounding land fits neatly into that general aesthetic: rippling fields stirred by the occasional crisp breeze alternate between amber-golden and rich, verdant green in coloration, and irregular patches of color signify the presence of a great deal of flowers of all sorts.

It's a peaceful scene.

We're sure you're all about to make it go horribly wrong.

B9: Reap the Harvest
For the unluckier, or the more adventurous, something far less tranquil awaits. Perhaps you woke up on this particular map square instead, or you saw fit to journey a little farther, just to see what might happen. In any case, you'll quickly discover that this may not have been the best idea, when an ordinary grassy mound abruptly detaches itself from the ground, hauls itself upright on bristling legs, and starts scuttling near.

SPINDLANKS have now been unlocked in the bestiary.
What might initially appear to be a leafy hillock will very quickly prove to be something far more...mobile, if you get close enough. That clump of grass and red ferns will abruptly hoist itself up on six vine-like tendrils, crawling for its prey like a very large, mossy spider. While it's fully capable of swiping at its foes with its massive, leafy arms, the spindlank's favored method of dispatching its prey is simply to scuttle forth until it's positioned directly above you and drop down. If its weight does not crush you and choking on the clods of earth doesn't smother you, don't worry; the spindlank intends to eat you alive with a set of fleshy jaws set deep in its center, buried somewhere in its underbelly.

For despite their appearance, spindlanks are very much carnivorous. Their size can vary from anywhere between six and ten feet tall when their appendages unfurl entirely. They are, in essence, very large plants, and thus can be easily dealt with, if you can burn them.

Just try not to get overwhelmed.

---

All new arrivals will awake with knapsacks, their names stitched to the front. The contents of said knapsacks can all be found in your acceptance notices!

As a final note to those who participated in the Test Drive Meme, bear in mind that those threads, if all parties involved would like, can be game canon in the form of dream-like memories involving a place very much like this one, though the layout is considerably different.

---

Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the Locations Page, which has details regarding the starting areas and a handy map for those who feel better with a bird's eye view!

---

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[postictal]

Good god. Tim reaches up to pinch at his brow, scrubs his hair out of his face - it's getting overlong again, and he keeps forgetting to cut it, because there's always a million goddamn other things going on here, like bug ladies talking about eating people for fun and profit - and blows out a weary breath.

"No," he says tiredly. "No, I don't. Is it still gonna taste good covered in sand?"

It's her catch, so really, this isn't his problem, necessarily, except the bit where he's not sure he actually managed to get his message through to her.

[flyfisher]

"There's water. It lives in water. Water cleans sand. Easy. Duh."

Her tone's gone completely sour, now. But the point of the fish was sharing with this supposedly nice man named Tim, but now maybe that ship's sailed.

"I'll figure it out. Can't be much harder than real fish. So puny. Little thing, uglier than real fish. Got flint and tinder too."

So really, she doesn't need him after all! Funny, that.

[postictal]

"Like I said, we do have fish-people here. So...stick to fishing the tiny ones, okay?" He is going to make that crystal fucking clear from the outset. They do not need a bug person jeopardizing the only firm allyship they've actually made since ending up here, because Ai'tuoh was its own mess, and they've got two, maybe three people, in that whole civilization that actually care and respect for the lot of them.

No, they really don't need the Jormun on their case either because someone's decided they look like free lunchables.

He shakes his head, glances out across the fields of grass, and opens a hand.

"I can make you a little grass fire. It'll need pretty much...constant feeding to keep it going, but we don't have firewood here. Are you good with that?"

[flyfisher]

She doesn't see what the difference is. Doesn't fully comprehend a fish that isn't also a person. But she sure did fish one out of the water, so, you know. That's a start.

She doesn't argue anymore, doesn't even acknowledge his offer of a grass fire, just grabs the sandy fish and lets the tide roll over it a bit, rubbing off the sand.

Only then, after she's cleaned the fish with the water and started cleaning it with her knife, does she acknowledge his offer with, "We're good."

What that fully means is up to him.

[postictal]

...great, okay. Fine. He's not really content to just ditch her and hope she doesn't cause more trouble. He can't hover over her shoulder this entire time, but at the very least he can mitigate things to a certain extent, maybe. That's the most he can manage for now.

Tim sighs, and starts stumping for the bluffs to dig up chunks of grass, then returns to scrape out a hole in the still-moist sand and pile the freshly-shorn grass into the pit.

It only takes a moment to spark the grass and get a fair blaze going.

[flyfisher]

Without a stick to hold the fish over the fire, Myia simply pierces it with her knife and holds it over to start cooking it. She's content to stay in silence now that the mood has soured, letting the fish grill over the fire slowly.

After a moment, though, she says, "You still want half?"

[postictal]

It’d be stupid to turn her down and potentially dismiss what must’ve been a relatively polite means of defusing their earlier exchange, but she’s brand new, and therefore more strapped for supplies.

Tim pauses, then shakes his head.

“I’ve got food,” he says, not needing to add that said food is not people. “You can hang onto it.”

[flyfisher]

"Then why are you still here?" she asks, completely dashing any potential assumptions that she was going to be civil. The least she could do is thank him, but honestly, she fished this shrimpy fish herself, so she deserves it regardless. So he doesn't get even that courtesy.

She just dully watches the fish sizzle, flesh starting to cook.

[postictal]

"Mostly to make sure that you're gonna be, y'know - okay." Which, he supposes this entire exchange answers that question for him. She's definitely gonna be okay, at least in the short-term. Right now he suspects the greatest obstacle to her adaptation to this place will be her own general disposition.

But, you know. That's fine. Either she learns to tone it down or knows how to hoof it on her own.

[flyfisher]

While Myia hasn't yet been practiced in the art of living on her own, at least not for some time, she's certainly of the disposition suited for it. And she can learn not to eat people just fine as long as no one goes around attacking her. By that point, it's their own damn fault for instigating things.

Besides. She's an accomplished fisher. She can handle these small fry fish and get plenty of nourishment along the way.

"Can take care of myself. I'm super strong," she insists.

[postictal]

Well, she's not wrong there. She seems fully capable of managing. The question then becomes whether everyone else is going to be okay with her just, around the way she is. There's no polite way to phrase that one, so he elects instead to keep his mouth shut.

"You check out all the stuff in your pack yet?" He jerks at the strap of the near-identical one he has on his own shoulder - though it's considerably more laden with accumulated supplies and worn with use.

[flyfisher]

"Got a helmet and a sack of sugar. Other things too. You can't have them," she says, making assumptions about why he's asking immediately. It's why she would be asking. But she eyes his considerably more heavy looking knapsack with no small amount of jealousy, but she huffs and finishes broiling her fish.

She blows on it to cool it down, then unfurls a proboscis from behind her lips and starts sucking away at the flesh. No teeth and tongue on this fly girl! Enjoy that close up of how some bugs eat, Tim.

[postictal]

"Yeah, that's not why I was asking, but good to know. I wanted to know if you had a rock kinda like this one anywhere in there." He slips the Stone from his pocket that allows for the audio linkage between parties. Not a cellphone, but the fantasy-realm equivalent, so he'll take it.

"'Cause this is how you can get into contact with people here."

[flyfisher]

Myia eyes his Stone over her fish snack, and actually takes a break from eating to fish out a similar Stone from her knapsack. She looks at it.

"Looks like a rock." Very observant, this bug. "Is it like a walkie talkie? Only a rock?" She taps it with her golden painted fingernail and speaks into it, pressing it up against her mouth. "Hello? Hello?"

[postictal]

"It's a...Stone of Far Speech, I think. You gotta talk into it like a walkie talkie, and anyone else with a Stone can hear it. Just make sure you specify who you wanna talk to, or it's gonna go out to everybody."

He has no idea if what she just said has translated into everyone's Stones, but for their sake, he kinda hopes not. Unless that's maybe the sort of first impression she was hoping to make.

[flyfisher]

That's all the confirmation Myia needs. She talks directly into the Stone.

"Attention everyone on this stinky island. Myia is here and she is very dangerous and strong. Watch out. Over and out."

That's more the sort of first impression she was hoping to make.

[postictal]

"All right," says Tim, who is too tired and has seen too much shit to react with much besides a tired huff of a sigh. "Sounds like you've figured out how they work. Congratulations."

He won't press the point. If she doesn't want him to stick around, he's got other people to keep safe from the spindlanks, probably.

[flyfisher]

"Weird to make them look like rocks. But I've got it. Got it. Talk to everyone, tell it to talk to one."

She makes a shooing motion and returns back to her fish, satisfied with the information she's gathered from him and the spindlank assist.

[postictal]

...yeah. She'll be fine.

He feels kinda stupid for butting in like he did when she can apparently clearly handle herself on her own, but you know, fine. He learned a thing or two, and she hopefully won't make any attempts to kill the Jormun if they're unlucky enough to happen by her.

That's good enough for him.