lifeaftr | May Intro: We're Going Down, Down

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May Intro: We're Going Down, Down

INTRO LOG: MAY

Who: Everyone!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: May 4th and onward
Where: Ensō...and above
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Floating Islet: And Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging
While new arrivals may generally be expected at this time of the month, one factor that has continuously failed to maintain consistency is their point of arrival. And indeed, it appears that this month has once again exceeded even the Storyteller's expectations as to where arrivals may take their first steps on this world.

Those who were with us in February will most certainly remember the floating islands hovering far, far above the mainland. While they currently remain inaccessible, they are still steadily floating overhead, shifting appearance as if made of the clouds themselves. And so while waking up on top of the world may be a surprise, at the very least new arrivals will have a bird's eye view of Ensō to enjoy for a time...until they take notice of a rather sinking sensation.

In fact, that sensation would be the island itself, starting to sink out of the sky.

So that's nice.

On a crash course for the ground at F6, the Storyteller will eventually slow the island's progress to the ground below, though a rather profound impact is, simply put, inevitable. Characters with the ability of flight will find the island skimming low enough to reach on their own. Others may wish to utilize their resourcefulness to find an alternate means down.

Or, perhaps, you'll simply deal with whatever awaits you at the crash site.

F6 and Beyond: In An Earlier Round
Thankfully, the Storyteller's intervention will ensure that no one still on the not-so-floating island upon impact will escape with minor injuries at worst, the island itself crumbling to pieces and taking down more than a few thick trees. The pieces of the island will very quickly begin to blacken, crumbling underfoot as the floating island turns to dust. Anyone still aboard may wish to make a very quick departure.

The ripples of this impact, however, are far more significant than two pieces of land bumping up against one another.

Previously, visitors to the floating islands may have experienced some...oddities, during their time above the clouds. For the next few days, these oddities will spread across Ensō itself, leading to some rather awkward scenarios:

[ ♆ ] Some may find their weapons are... behaving oddly, though all are still functional. Weapons, in this instance, may also include fisticuffs, if the intent is to use your fists as a weapon.

[ ♆ ] Equally as irritating are those who find themselves coming down with a severe case of NPCitus: periods of time in which they find themselves incapable of saying more than one or two lines of the same, repetitive dialogue.

[ ♆ ] Equal parts nostalgic and irritating for some are the instances of lag (walking forwards, only to find oneself back where they started), Swimmer's Ear (incapable of movement unless swimming through the air), and clipping (suddenly stuck halfway through the nearest rock are all common, regrettable side-effects).

[ ♆ ] Other unfortunate side-effects may also transpire, as varied and wild as one's imagination.

Though many of these may be hindering or even dangerous in the right situations, they are, for the most part, passive. The Storyteller will assure anyone who asks that these oddities will disappear in the next few days.

You are free to create or utilize glitches you are particularly fond of, though keep in mind that any potential content warnings should be mentioned in your toplevel! You may peruse some of the past glitches here, or create your own along those lines! And a special thanks to our local Donn-mun, Jake (

venesection), for the first glitch on the list!

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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It has to do with who's doing the resisting, it seems. The Hunter seems, at least at present, blissfully unaffected by the curious physics that have the Drifter sailing frantically in a direction they don't want to be going, which is why, when the rope draws taut, it...strains, but otherwise manages to hold.]

[A relief, at first. But the rope is creaking perilously, and this is only a preventative measure - not a resistant one.]

[And so the Drifter starts to climb. Hand over hand, seizing the length of rope in what may be the strangest case of horizontal scaling they've ever had to do.]

[It's not going to last long, he sees that. The rope will break eventually or one of them would lose their grip and things will just wind up back at the beginning.

The Hunter winds his end of the rope around one hand before reaching back to grab the handle of the Saw Cleaver that's still embedded into the ground. He's not too worried about rope burn given he's wearing gloves and it matters little to him if the fabric shreds in the process of the Drifter's odd scaling adventure. And honestly? A few more burns aren't something he's too concerned with.

So acting as the proverbial nail in the ground is fine for now. One just has to hope there's a limit to how long this effect will last for or if there's a sort of range to it and the Drifter can 'climb' out of it.

But the Hunter has learned to not hope too much for things. So if this doesn't work they'll have to come up with another plan on the fly.]

[The tug of something that feels peculiarly like gravity working on a skewed scale makes the advance slow and arduous, but the Drifter is nothing if not determined. Whoever their mysterious helper may be, they do not question their aid. The why can come later. Right now they merely need to keep moving, so that they do not lose what little progress they've made.]

[The vague hope that they might cross this asymptote and come away unscathed judders to a halt at the same moment a familiar pressure contracts around their chest.]

[An illness never picks practical times to manifest its symptoms. The Drifter's steadfast advance grinds to a halt as they lurch forward, shoulders heaving in soundless, pained coughs.]

[Spots of neon pink sizzle faintly as they spatter the ground.]

[Yeah, that's that hope out the window.

The Drifter coughing up blood(?) isn't that disturbing to the Hunter, who's world was composed of blood and gore on a constant bases. The only new thing here was that it was pink. But there's no time to ponder it.

The Hunter's immediate reaction is a rough one, but it's the best he's got. Yanking the rope backwards, even if it knocks the Drifter more off balance, so he can tie his end around the Saw Cleaver's handle as a life-line. Then he dashes forward, one hand grabbing the rope again and the other going for the Drifter's arm.

If the Hunter is successful in grabbing the Drifter, he's going to start dashing backwards again without much of a wait. The rope still can act as a break against the pull since it's tied to the Cleaver still embedded in the ground.

But the Hunter is running out of energy and the blade can't stay in the ground forever. They need to move now.]

[The lifeline yanks fiercely in a manner they hadn't expected, overbalancing them and nearly toppling them entirely. A hand snaps around their arm, and their reaction is instantaneous and instinctive, and based entirely on the fact that for someone like them, being caught in the grasp of anyone is a death warrant when their only boon in battle is their agility.]

[Their hard light blade ignites with an angry hum and a pulse of cyan.]

[Let go. Now.]

[The second the blade springs to light, the Hunter lets go of the rope.

A possibly odd reaction but he needs a free hand and if the Drifter is under the impression the Hunter is unarmed right now, they are mistaken. But they will likely recognize the sound of a gun being cocked.

The Hunter's Blunderbuss has zero subtly in appearance and there's nothing fancy to it. But with the shotgun-like spray it has and how close they are to each other right now, he isn't going to miss. And the Hunter is prepared to lose an arm if just to get that one shot off.

And, now that the Hunter is truly face-to-face with the Drifter, he can see that strip of blue skin that brings back horrible memories of a monstrous child screaming and tearing his flesh apart, piece by piece. Yet there is still a far cry between the two, so the Hunter will bully his way through the memories and instead speak, despite his voice cracking.

Again.]

Are you still being pulled?

[Yes or no Drifter. Even if they lie and say yes just to get him to let go, he will. What happens after is their consequences alone.]

[A pair of black eyes burn out from the strip of blue, visible between their helm and their scarlet mantle. The tacit challenge is enough to spur him to release the rope, which sends them sliding across the thin air once more. They know the sound of a firearm being loaded and preparing to fire, pins and tumblers shucking into place.]

[They don't bare their own. They're close enough for the blade to more than sufficient.]

[They don't answer the question. Instead, they issue a terse, text-based reply:]

let
go

[Silver eyes flick between the Drifter and the machine relaying the message. Technology was not that advanced in Yharnam so while the device's use is obvious, it still is a curiosity.

But he does know when to hold back that curiosity. Neither of them are getting anywhere like this. So he lets go without much fuss.

There you go. Now to see if whatever magic is at work here has warn off or not.]

[They start sliding across the ground once more, but have decided that this is preferable to being pinned. They immediately set to work slamming the hard light of their blade into nearby tree trunks, attempting to catch onto the bark and twigs.]

[They've not stopped coughing. The words dissipate from the sprite as soon as the other party relinquishes his grip, but the Drifter's free hand cups around their mantle, as if that might stem the flow of blood from the back of their throat.]

[They manage to catch at the vertical bar of a trunk, hooking one arm around it, which stabilizes them for a moment, and the blade hums out.]

[That answers that but the Drifter seems to have the issue of stopping handled for the moment, so the Hunter will collect both the rope and the Saw Cleaver, snapping the latter back into its closed state before making his way to where the Drifter is.

His finger is still on the trigger of his gun but that's due to force of habit then anything else at this point. He does stop outside of the assumed range of the Drifter's blade, however.]

How long?

[Can they keep their grip, he means. Sadly the Hunter keeps things short, vocally or otherwise. He'll elaborate if needed but hopefully the Drifter will answer his question this time.]

as long as it takes

[That's the bottom line. They will hold until they cannot hold any longer, and hope if this is not sufficient, they will mastermind some other solution. They do not prefer to be touched, even in the spirit of offering them assistance. Muffet can speak to this effect.]

[There are, of course, exceptions to this rule.]

[Not this time.]

[The Hunter nods, apparently finding this response to be acceptable. And really sometimes 'as long as it takes' is all you have to work with, even as it downgrades to 'stubbornness' and (but not always) 'spite'.

Of course, it helps to have infinite tries to get it right this time.

But the Hunter been in far too many situations where he died because he was missing just one thing. The Drifter doesn't like being touched and that's fine by him, but a rope is still handy to have anyways.]

Here.

[If they're willing to take it, the Hunter will hand over the coil of rope. He's not going to suggest tying the Drifter to the tree itself unfortunately. It's too much like a headless man or a woman tied upside down, their arms bent at an angle to represent the symbol that is branded into the Hunter's brain, hearing the call of a Kin and being handed a skull stewed with curses and eyes removed from their mind

No. No, it's not something he'll suggest but the offer of the item is still there. That's all he can do.]

[This? this is much more acceptable. They wind one end around the trunk and the other around their free wrist, and are content to allow that to anchor them for the time being. Perhaps they cannot prevent their inevitable glide to one end of the island, but this at least allows them the time to huff once into their mantle before issuing another message, albeit with a quiet reluctance:]

$?

[Regardless of the manner of the assistance he has offered to them, he did offer it - and now it is their responsibility to follow that up with an old, tired request.]

[The Hunter is actually someone who will take the Drifter up on that. He was lacking in information regarding this place and while he has no way of knowing how long the other person has been here, he's never been one to turn up his nose at a potential source of information.

That being said he does recognize this obviously isn't the time for it either.]

Information. [The Hunter has to clear his throat again before continuing.] But not now. We can met later.

[Unless the Drifter is confident they can answer his questions and hold on to the rope at the same time. That is indeed an option they can take, but there's no pressure.]

[Not now, he says, as if with the expectation that there will be an ideal time to administer that exchange. The Drifter adjusts their grip on the rope, arranging it so they're standing slightly more comfortably against the trunk of a tree in a position that cannot be very dignified. Dignity has never been their priority, however, and so they disregard it.]

[Their sprite is intuitive. It interprets their commands without manual input.]

what information

[The Hunter's eyes move from the Drifter to their machine, accompanied by a slight tilt of the head. He is genuinely curious about it and how it's transferring words like this. The only thing he can think of like it was that skull, but even then that was only a memory.

The words of others. Nobody else's. But the Hunter knows he needs to take care of business first rather then marvel at this machine.]

What manner of beasts are here?

[It's probably an extensive question but he'll take the basics. There's actually a lot more questions he'd like to ask - about the Storyteller and about who and what the Drifter themselves are - but he'll save it for later.

The question of whether or not the Hunter is awake or merely dreaming goes unasked. It mattered little, in the end.]

many

[The response is immediate. They're not trying to be funny, really: it's just that there are variations, incredible variations, inter-island in addition to across various islands.]

some across many islands
some specific to few

why

[There's an intent behind the question - wariness regarding predators, concerns about hunting and trapping prey, or some other necessity that must concern him - and rooting that out may surely make it easier to answer in more specific terms.]

[The Hunter nods, the answer acceptable even if it is a vague one. That alone is more then he got when he first came to Yharnam.

As for their question...]

I am a Hunter.

[And Hunters are killers. But in the words of Gehrman, it's his job to "go out and kill a few beasts."

So that's what he'll do.]

do not hunt here

[It's perhaps sterner than is intentional, but the collective displacement of so many people to this strange new world had quickly stripped Ensō of its resources, beasts included. Some have been domesticated, kept in pens for their resources, but those are hardly fair game.]

[Nor should they be.]

most populations are low

[Fair, but the Drifter is slightly off the mark. The Hunter shakes his head.]

Dangerous beasts. Ones that hurt others. Not for sport.

[Even though the Hunters of Yharnam had descended into mobs, they only stuck with beasts until driven blood-drunk. Then all bets were off.

As for the Outside Hunter, he knew still which was which.]

[Pause. Consider.]

[Input:]

then there are some

[There are quite a few that they imagine many here would be grateful to see the end of, such as that great rolling mass of tangled limbs and coagulated organic matter, plowing over grass and stone alike with an unparalleled greed.]

[Not that it'd necessarily be wise to take that on alone, but the Drifter is hardly in any position to relate the lack of wisdom in that.]

['Some' is enough for the Hunter. The events thus far already showed there were dangers here, ones that the Hunter has actually never experienced. But hunting beasts is something he's used to.

The Hunter coughs again to clear their throat - evidently he's not used to talking this much and indeed, this is the longest conversation he's had in a long time. But the Hunter has only one more question.]

Locations?

[The clipped, objective-driven speech is familiar, and they'd not be surprised if he immediately set out to pursue those directives with very little preparation. It is what the Drifter would do, if circumstances would allow it.]

[But they still have his rope.]

[The second HUD flares up with a soft chime from their sprite, projecting an aerial visual of Ensō, pieced together over a period of months and with a fair degree of input from other explorers. A pale rhombus hums a quiet indication of their current location, and two more flick up in quick succession to indicate the locations of the creatures known colloquially as fusterclucks.]

[Now that the Drifter is totally correct about. The Hunter doesn't go into fights without at least a basic plan, but at the same time he can't say with a straight face that he's gone in as prepared as he should.

And with unlimited tries, he's not against throwing himself to the wolves just to see what they can do even if he dies in the process. A nasty way of learning? Yes, but it worked.

The Hunter was expecting just a vague idea of the locations or a list at best, not an actual map and it shows when he blinks in surprise. This machine was amazing and frankly he wants to go through it and see what else it could do. He almost does, tucking the Blunderbuss away, but only gets that far before he realizes he shouldn't.

He hasn't figured out the Drifter truly can't speak but they seem to prefer talking this way and the Hunter wasn't about to break something like that by accident. So instead the Hunter studies it and commits the locations to memory.]

That is enough. Thank you.

[It's more then he's ever gotten and he's grateful for it.]

rope?

[They tug at the makeshift tether, a few sharp, exacting jerks. They still have it, and they cannot particularly say how long they may need it, but if he is anything like the Drifter, then he will likely want to embark on his way soon. If he leaves, it means they will likely need to return the rope at a later time.]

[They do not generally plan that far ahead. They act in the moment, and do not look too far into the future. One can never know how much of a future one has, in their condition.]

May Intro: We're Going Down, Down

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you have the worst luck stat Drifter

jfc

this is going well lol

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