lifeaftr | November Intro: We Used to Think Our Words Were Gold

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November Intro: We Used to Think Our Words Were Gold

INTRO LOG: NOVEMBER

Who: New arrivals, and you!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: November 4th and onward
Where: Ensō
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Temple: We Built These Walls So We Could Find
With the Storyteller once again regaining control of Mu in the final week of October, the disturbing bleedover of characters' pasts and futures has come to an end; but, as it would seem, some alternative effects have merely been delayed.

The Chamber of Glyphs, which had held steadfast as a link between the physical and metaphysical worlds during last month's event, has finally bent beneath the strain - and, perhaps, due to the Storyteller's increased exertion over both planes. The Chamber, which typically represents a myriad of drawings intended to tell stories, has abruptly become much less tell...and much more show.

Newcomers will open their eyes to a high stone ceiling, punched through with beams of sunlight. Massive stone walls span them on four sides, upon which are endless murals drawn in chalk, depicting island life: a village gathered around a table, feasting; hunters with their bows drawn, chasing down a wild boar; warriors with swords slashing at enormous vipers. Any imaginable tale of wilderness survival adorns the walls, pitching and shifting, almost seeming to animate...

Right out of the walls, in fact.

Indeed, the drawings in the Chamber have come to life, bringing the chaos of their story into the room itself. And they seem quite determined to make your character a part of it. Though startingly lifelike, their features always seem to be fuzzy and indistinct, and their voices a bit too warbled to make out. Whether it be the taste of bitter ink in your mouth when you bite into an apple, or the feel of chalk dust on your fingers as you grip a weapon handed to you, there is a persistent sense of immaterialism in these ghost-drawings and the world they fill the gray corners of the Chamber with. Regardless, they all very much believe that you are a part of the feast, or the hunt, or the battle, or whatever other tale has leapt from the walls. And you are expected to participate.

Of course, any theoretical danger probably isn't real...but do you really want to risk it? After all, it isn't only mundane tales of the faceless that reside here - your fellow survivors, too, have added their much wilder stories to this world. Surely the Chamber would recognize them if they were to be nearby...and remember their contributions.

And Beyond: A Future We Will Never Write
Of course, there are other aberrations throughout the temple to contend with. For newcomers, the major issue appears to be the lack of a front door, while those who have come to visit the temple for any number of reasons will find the front door isn't quite leading to where it should; nor does it seem keen on sticking in one place. The only room within the building that any character will be able to reach is the Chamber of Glyphs itself - but actually escaping the temple may seem a difficult task.

The temple's interior does not help in keeping one's bearings. Though pillars, empty shelves, and even the outline of windows can still be seen throughout the imagery, they appear of have been superimposed into much wider areas of space - the arid, vast wastelands of Monsun. The ash-powdered lands of Chol, still scorched black from the rebirthing of the sun. Even Ai'tuoh, though its streets seem devoid of any life.

Though the eye may believe they have returned to the entirety of the island, other senses may confound and befuddle. Each step is still taken on level stone, the only sounds those of your shoes upon the floor - and the voices of anyone stuck inside with you. Venturing about will prove that these illusions do have a limitation, ending a few miles at most, though the unlucky could easily find themselves exiting one door...and entering a new island room. Exploration could potentially continue on indefinitely - or at the least, until the Storyteller wrangles their temple back into order early the next morning.

Be careful, adventurers. Though cycling through islands you have seen before - the very subject of your stories - there is a chance that those who go too deep will come across a land that is very familiar to some. Twisted remnants of something terrible, heavy with the scent of ash and decay. Bare, blackened landscapes that look as though they may have been blown to fragments. Portions of some foreign and unknown world a powerful strain of dark, volcanic corruption.

If you should find this, it is best to leave as soon as possible. Though the ground may still be safe to stand on, the same cannot be said about the breathability of the air.

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

[That's twice the kid has referenced love, and that's two times more than Tim needs. He can't really stress enough how little interest he has in that in literally any way he can think of.]

You seem pretty confident on the whole falling in love thing. That can be someone else's problem.

Most writers don't think it's possible to tell a good story without a romance. How else are we supposed to mourn in a tragedy or cheer when our dear hero wins the heart of the heroine?

(There's the same drip of sarcasm in his voice. Nezumi thinks it's a waste of time, as well, but it's true that romance is a common thread among many stories. When people fabricate, exaggerate in order to make their lives more interesting, there's usually a tale of love. Their beloved is never horrid or even plain. That's not worthy of envy. Instead, the god or goddess of beauty themselves were smitten by their heroic deeds.)

[If Tim were the the type of person for it, he'd bark out a mirthless huff of laughter. But he isn't and so he doesn't.]

Guess I'm not the dear hero. [Given the sardonicism in his tone, that's more than fine by him, and he knew that long before ending up here. Winning anyone's heart over is the last fucking thing he wants, thanks.]

Look, you can believe me or not. I don't really care. You'll see for yourself eventually, and you can make up your mind then.

So you've said.

(Nezumi's voice seems a bit distant now as he looks around the barren landscape. This shouldn't be inside a temple. None of this should be here.)

But believing all of this without seeing it would be a form of madness. We're not actually in these areas which means the layout of the building shouldn't really be changing. We have one door. Using it as a guidepost, where would the next be located?

[Madness, huh?]

[That's almost worth a laugh in and of itself. You're talking to someone who's lost his fucking mind already, Nezumi, more times than he cares to count. He's fucking certifiably out of his head. Some pills to keep the worst at bay.]

[Not that he says it.]

I'd say just take a straight shot until we hit the place where the mana pool would be. Which is...I think it was that way, [he says, pointing,] but it's kinda been a while since any of us have been here.

That direction.

(Did he have any reason to avoid it? At worst, it's a trap, but it would break the current middle ground that's getting him nowhere. If Tim goes first, Nezumi would be able to get to him if there are more men waiting.)

Then, that's the direction we'll go.

(Nezumi doesn't trust people. Period. But he knows some people have knowledge he doesn't. In this case, Tim knows the building better than he does.)

Unless you're enjoying my company so much you'd prefer to stay here.

[Tim simply looks at him. His expression is one of flat neutrality, though he lifts his eyebrows very slightly. It's some sort of answer, maybe. It might be nothing.]

[But he moves with the same deliberate care - keeping Nezumi in his periphery, the way he does most things.]

If this doesn't take us the right way, we're heading backwards.

(Nezumi smirks. Tim doesn't really show much emotion, does he? That's normally a sign that something has happened, or a lot of somethings, to teach him the importance of working with logic instead of feelings.)

Even if we go back, it will still tell us which way we need to go. If this is back, behind us is forward so we can turn around.

(And Nezumi is ready to get out of here.)

[Tim doesn't smile very much at all, no. The time he's spent here and at Sol has only served to blunt his emotional spectrum down even further. He exists on an axis slightly askew, oftentimes; passively observing things and consciously processing them, but not interacting with them enough to commit to feeling anything one way or the other about them.]

[The fog of his own brain makes it difficult. He makes it difficult.]

That's the idea, yeah.

[As long as they keep moving, they should reach the door soon enough.]

(Nezumi is the same, or at least he likes to think he is. In many ways, he's a mirror of Tim in that he watches the world without getting emotionally involved. That's dangerous. Unlike Tim, he's found a weakness in Shion.)

Then, let us not keep fate waiting.

(Making sure Tim never gets behind him, he finally stalks toward the very obvious door. Once they're in front of it, Nezumi pauses.)

If this does lead out, what's waiting on the other end?

The actual temple, ideally.

[He doesn't keep fully behind him, no, but it's better like this - keeping even pace. It limits the tension.]

[The door looks about as out of place as the presence of an island in the temple, but Tim regards it with the same flat expression that he devotes to most things. He doesn't hesitate, either. He simply reaches out and grabs the doorknob and turns.]

[Thankfully, it looks like the temple is on the other end.]

Ideally.

(Nezumi steps inside even as he turns mid-stride to watch Tim. Caution isn't a habit he plans on losing.)

Now that we're in the temple, you should know the way out.

[Tim digs into his pockets immediately until he emerges with a tin of cigarettes, then a lighter. He points, wearily, for the door that looks like it's open - leading directly outside, thank god. He's had enough of doors that don't go where they should.]

Only one way to find out if that goes where it's supposed to.

If your hope is to blow smoke and hopes it reveals a door, we'll need a new plan.

(With the door in sight, Nezumi relaxes a little. He's always cautious, but being engulfed in the unknown was enough to make him even more on edge than usual.)

You're forgetting a small detail: I don't know where it's supposed to lead. That's why I'm still trusting in you to be my gracious host.

[Bad idea, he doesn't say aloud. It's probable the kid knows that. He only takes a moment to jab a cigarette between his teeth and light it up with the hiss-spit of a flicking lighter, then moves forward to nudge the door the rest of the way open.]

[He squints up at the sky. The surrounding tropical exterior matches up.]

Outside. Looks like Ensō, which is where we're supposed to be.

The thing is...No. I'm not supposed to be there at all.

[ Nezumi steps out into something that isn't the insane temple. It's not the Western District, but it's an obvious improvement over the games he just left. The ground beneath his feet feels real.]

How are you with maps?

I've gotten better at them.

[By necessity, he's learned to get better at using them - reading them, writing them, and just generally interpreting them. But then, he learned to establish a good sense of direction long before he came here, by necessity.]

You need a map of the place?

It would be better than having to learn all of it myself.

[ He just needs to know the exits, but there's no need for much detail. ]

Do you happen to have one sitting beside all of your flare guns?

[ Which he's keeping. ]

[That is why Tim offered it. He pinches his cigarette in place between his teeth and starts digging in his knapsack anew. Brian left him more than a pen; he also left him paper.]

Not on me, no. Some people make them, but...I guess I could draw one out real quick, maybe. At least one for Ensō.

[ That makes it a bit less reliable, but Nezumi knows what kinds of places to avoid. If the map isn't lining up, he'd toss it and start from scratch. ]

My hero. Then I'll wait while you selflessly slave away.

[If he takes issue with Nezumi's tone, he doesn't show it. He just pulls out a slightly weatherbeaten notebook and smooths one of the pages back before doing a rough sketch of the island shape. It's not perfect, nor is it accurate, but he does circle a few areas, labeling them with firm X's.]

There's a couple places no one goes - mostly 'cause people who head there end up dying pretty quick. There's a black hole here - [He taps an area near the center of the map.] - and some things that no one's figured out how to kill over here - [He taps an area near the coast.]

[ For the first time since they've met, Nezumi gets closer. He bends his neck to get a better look at the book. His hands remain by his knife, but he's slightly less on edge now. ]

You're being too vague. From the beginning... What kills them?

[He raises his eyebrows slightly, and repeats himself.] Black hole. If you don't know what that is, it...sucks you up, basically. And that kills you.

[The term for the other "things" is actually "fustercluck," but he doesn't know it.]

No idea what these other things are. They're...giant balls of moving body parts, if that makes any sense. They try to crush you and make you a part of them, so it's best to just stay clear.

A literal black hole?

[ Nezumi assumes he shouldn't have to explain why a black hole shouldn't be able to simply hang around on the ground. He's tired of wasting his breathe explaining why things aren't logical when they've so clearly been illogical. ]

This world would have made much more sense if I'd been greeted by a rabbit that was late for his appointment. [ But he has to accept what he sees. He has to adjust, adapt, and strive. ]

Keep going.

It hasn't killed everything else, so it's not a literal one, but it's the closest word we have for it.

[Tim shrugs, and draws a couple squares near the middle mass of the map.]

That's it. There's mana pools all over the place, if you need to get anywhere. Islets just off the coast have places where you can live.

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November Intro: We Used to Think Our Words Were Gold

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