lifeaftr | August Intro: These Days Are Feeling Dark

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August Intro: These Days Are Feeling Dark

INTRO LOG: AUGUST

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

Our lucky new adventurers join the archipelago on a new chapter of our journey, with the new island of Nastrandir playing host to their arrival. With the events of last month leaving many questions in those more settled in LifeAftr, all will find they soon have…other things to think about.

New arrivals may awake at either of the locations listed below. Or they may wander!

A4: Show Me Distraction
In comparison to the warm welcome characters experienced on Io, the land of Nastrindir is not at all promising. The strip of coast hosting the mana pool is a scoop of rock and cliff, and rather unforgiving. To the east, however, it looks as though nearby wetlands leave the horizon lost in a foggy haze. The mana pool is generally a comforting, reliable constant on any island...generally. There looks to be something wrong with this one. The rocks surrounding it are blackened, various spots across their surface almost glass-like under the summer sun. After a brief inspection, most will probably gather that the pool has been set on fire in times past.

More annoying still is the tampering that's occured within the pool. The pool is partially obstructed, due to a blockage of tumbled rocks and boulders that seem to have fallen from the surrounding rocky landscape and toppled into the raised plinth. The choking of the mana water will make return trips to Ensō…inconvenient, to say the least. The rocks are an annoyance that will need to be removed before anyone will be travelling anywhere.

Also of note are the old statues that stand at opposing sides of the mana pool. In their prime, they may have towered a good fifteen or twenty feet tall. Now, however, one has been tipped onto its side, and there are large, crumbled chunks taken out of the other. Both look blackened, much like the mana pool, as though they were also set on fire at some point in their history. Whatever they may have meant to depict has been lost to time...but the parts of them that have survived look to represent smooth, rounded coils of something or another.

It might feel, to the particularly wary or those prone to paranoia, like these statues are watching you. Like they're representative of something else that might have its eye on you, even now.

Or they might not! It could be all in your head. What's way more important is the local flora in the vicinity. The parts of the land that have soil are currently host to some delightful plants that are known, colloquially, as candyplants. And, yes - they're exactly what they sound like.

Candyplants are odd plants that are not unlike a melon vine, except that their fruits take the form of giant candies. The candyfruit is quite edible, though much higher in sugar content than your more bog standard varieties of fruits and vegetables. The variation in the shapes and sizes and flavors is tremendous - some are shaped like fruit, and will have a very similar taste to the fruit they represent. The only exceptions are the ones that look rather like overgrown candy corn, which taste like...marshmallows, for some reason. But they still taste sweet, and they're still full of some of the nutrients you'd expect to find in ordinary fruit!

While candyplants are somewhat less sugary than their real candy equivalents, it's still not recommended that you gorge on them overmuch. They're probably pretty bad for your teeth, if you have any. Candyplants do keep for quite some time, though - particularly if dried, packed in jars, or otherwise preserved.

Candyplants grow in temperate areas near quantities of fresh water - which Nastrandir has in abundance. Most of them grow in shaded, open areas along the ground, like melons; plants that bear smaller candyfruits may instead behave like grapes and other climbing vines, especially when they would be otherwise crowded out by other ground plants. The plants and fruits are quite harmless, though the sweet, sugary smell that tends to linger around areas of rampant growth during hot weather can cause one hell of migraine.

B4: Snakes Are Biting at My Heels
Those who arrive a little ways away from the mana pool or find themselves daring enough to start exploring will end up on the B4 square, which is closer to the swampy environment more characteristic of Nastrandir's inland. The further east one progresses, the wetter and softer the ground underfoot will get, until you're slogging thigh-deep in freshwater algae and muck. It's pretty dirty work, but it's probably more advisable that you go roaming into the wetlands rather than sticking around in the rockier regions. - especially because those regions happen to be occupied.

That feeling of paranoia that may or may not have settled on the back of your neck on A4 will turn out to be justified. Flickers of motion in the corner of your eye, the sensation of something watching you, the clattering of pebbles and rocks sliding down the sloping inclines on Nastrandir's craggy landscape - all signs indicative that something else frequents this region.

And something does. Something large, scaly, and very hungry.

Rocobra have now been unlocked in the bestiary!

The spiny protrusions on this creature's long, sinuous body will make it quite difficult to distinguish from its surroundings; these beasts tend to disguise themselves as the surrounding mountain rock where they live. Mild chameleonic properties allow this predator to blend almost seamlessly in with a rocky environment of almost any texture and color. And, given the size of them, it's very possible you won't realize that you're stuck in one's coils until it's too late.

With thick, scaly hides, large jaws, and venomous teeth, the rocobra is deadly fast despite its significant bulk. Even at their smallest, the rocobra is often as thick as a tree trunk in girth, and can range from thirty to sixty feet in length. Rocobra specialize in draping themselves in a circle, concealing themselves among their surroundings, and waiting for unsuspecting prey to wander somewhere in their coils before drawing tight around them to constrict them into a slow and painful death, so they might be devoured.

The good news is that rocobra only ever hunt and live in solitude; it is highly unlikely you'll find more than one in any one area. Most cannot spit venom, but can deal a paralyzing strike with massive fangs that are just as likely to impale you as they are to poison you. The good news is that they do have a weakness, and that weakness is numbers - when there is more than one target for the rocobra to focus on, it can get hopelessly confused over who it should be striking first, and can be easily distracted and led along by a well-coordinated team or pair. It's advised that you strike it at the mouth, if possible, as those scales can be awfully hard to penetrate.

While the danger rocobra present is very real, that doesn't mean they're completely useless. Rocobra can potentially be harvested for venom, meat, or their tough, scaly hides.

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

[Unfamiliar type of demon, definite threat. Aziraphale bristles, eyes narrowing to a glare.

It just — it would be great if this guy would stop moving. Along with everything else.

There's no way Aziraphale can thwart evil like this. If that's what has to happen. Maybe it won't come to that. Stranger things have happened, these past few days.]

Erm.

[Getting sun-burnt, for one. Being uncomfortable, for two. He can't admit what's actually going on. Not when it'd make him that much more vulnerable.]

...bird-watching.

[What birds, Aziraphale.

What birds.]

[Michael looks up at the sky, the trees, and the notable lack of bird activity, and then back down at the angel.]

Bird-watching. Flat on your back in the dirt.

[In this hemisphere! Localized entirely to the mana pool!]

[Aziraphale makes a sound like a grumble, like he can't believe that didn't work, like he can't believe he's going to have to explain himself to a demon who isn't Crowley.

He brings a hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose.]

I'm new, I'm drunk, and I'm really not in the mood for any demonic sass. So if you could spare me, please.

You're drunk?

[The surprise cuts through Michael's bluster, at least. Sure, he's been drunk. He doesn't know if angels get drunk, but he's sure they can - why stay drunk, though? He never let it last any longer than necessary. He's sure he'd have been able to drop it before some dimensional nonsense could get him.]

What are you drunk for?

[BOY, IS THAT A QUESTION. Aziraphale gestures vaguely at one of the nearby rocks, as if inviting Michael to take a seat.]

Narrowly avoided Armageddon. Went to Hell incognito. Survived both to lie here and talk about it. It's a rather long story, I'm afraid, but if you'd like to hear it...

[He turns his head a little, ignoring the dirt scratching at the back of his head. He can take care of that later. Probably.]

What are you, really? You can't be a demon. You don't look anything like one. You're too...

[Please remember, he is drunk.]

...pretty.

[...............what

Michael doesn't know how to process any of that. His mouth hangs open for a moment, before he gathers himself and shakes his head.]

I'm - I am a demon. But...thank you?

[He thinks??? Whatever, okay - he takes a seat on the rock indicated, running over Eleanor's life history in his head. She'd drink coffee if she had to sober up, right? He's not sure how well it worked, but he magics up a mug of it anyway. Which...the angel is a little too prone to take.]

Alright. Think you can sit up?

[Aziraphale catches a whiff of coffee, and he's up like he's had a jolt delivered to his system. It's not the coffee he cares about, though. It's that it wasn't there a second ago and now it is.]

Did you just —

[He lifts his own hand, trying for a snap, but the thing is.

The thing is.

He's drunk, and moving that quickly was a poor choice, and he promptly wobbles and goes sideways.

This is fine.]

— don't touch me. 'm fine.

[He says, mostly to the ground.]

[Michael actually recognizes that gesture just fine; it's what he typically uses too. It doesn't work as well here, and he's never attempted it while drunk...maybe it would work even less? Just another reason to avoid getting drunk, honestly.

He leans over - not to touch, just to peer at the downed angel. Boy, he really must've been going at it.]

Are you, though?

Yes, my magic is — it's this place, I think, I just need to get used to —

[He pauses, thinks — as best he can — over the series of events that led him here. Numerous bottles of champagne. Glasses clinking like bells, over and over. They left the Ritz in comparably okay shape; once Aziraphale found himself here, the alcohol hit him like a crowbar to the head.

Not that he'd know what that feels like oh wait.

He groans and screws his eyes shut, concentrating. Should Michael notice, the dark coffee in the mug he produced is gone, being slowly replaced by... well, champagne, as if someone's pouring it in.

But they aren't.

It's coming from Aziraphale.]

Ugh.

[Basically.]

Yeah, that -

[It's the difference in weight he notices first. Michael stops talking and watches the mug slowly fill back up with champagne.]

...okay. [He pours all of the hard-won champagne out on the ground.] You can probably only do that a few times a day now. Try using one on something that isn't more alcohol.

[Color Aziraphale even more confused. When he opens his eyes again, it's to send a squint in Michael's direction.

Did he not just, much to his own horror, confess to tricking Hell? Is he not an angel, speaking to a demon, one who most likely was only just asked to stand down from attempted triumph over Heaven?]

Why are you helping me?

[There's a few answers he could provide for that, but after a moment, Michael settles on:]

I don't see a reason not to. But - [He sets the mug aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees.] - if you ever feel the need to get judgmental on any of the humans around here? I'd just ask that you remember this whole incident.

[He can't imagine an angel's used to ending up just totally wasted. Maybe he could learn some things about humility, or how people make mistakes sometimes and still shouldn't be tortured.]

[Slowly but surely, that processes through Aziraphale's addled brain.

And then he just looks cross.]

Judgmental! After I helped save them all from destruction! You can't be —

[ — serious. Carefully, this time, he positions himself upright. Dusts his sleeves off some, not that it helps.]

Don't see a reason not to. [Aziraphale repeats the words, tests them on his own tongue, continues regarding Michael with skepticism.] What's your rank, if you don't mind me asking?

[Michael snorts. Yeah, logically he knows about different worlds and all, but when was the last time an angel lifted a finger to help anyone? He could barely get them to think about thinking about it!]

My rank?

[Weird question for a fugitive traitor. If this were a demon, he would know to just lie, but he's not actually sure what the angel wants out of this.]

I was an Architect. Right now, I'm pressing humanity's case in the Court - since some other beings couldn't be bothered to even show up.

What court? There's no court.

[Nor any "architects." Not that Aziraphale knows of, anyway, and while it's true that he's generally kept out of the loop, between him and Crowley... well, he'd like to think he'd know of new positions. At the very least.]

Wait. Are you — [He rubs his temple. He's got a splitting headache.

He keeps thinking of what that rabbit said.]

— we're not from the same place. No, we can't be. You're nothing like the demons from my world. Appearance, demeanor, doing... literally anything on behalf of humanity. Caring, even just a little bit.

[Which he apparently does.

Aziraphale relaxes. Visibly.]

Oh, what a relief.

[Seems logical enough. Michael relaxes a little too, propping his chin on a hand. He'd like to say that he cares a whole lot more than "a little bit", but man, he just met this guy.]

I'm not exactly a great example of "demons from my world", either. But you don't seem a lot like our angels. Bunch of useless pricks...

[Michael says "useless pricks," and Aziraphale's expression lights up — half in amusement, half in somber understanding.]

Yours too?

[He almost, almost smirks, but then stops himself. Casts a wary glance upward. Agreeing that angels are, by and large, useless pricks, is probably just as bad as saying so himself. Never mind if it's what he thinks. Never mind God's omniscience, or Her probable awareness that this is, in fact, the case.

He still probably shouldn't be so vocal in his agreement.

...but there's no taking it back, just like there's no taking back everything that transpired back on his Earth.

So.

Screw it.]

[ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, man!

Michael leans forward conspiratorially. He does not care who hears him. You have unlocked Bitch Sesh Michael!]

I personally went all the way up there - which is not an easy thing to do - to tell them that Hell had subverted the entire system, and all the humans had just been automatically sent to us since the 16th century or so. You'd think they'd have noticed that themselves, but whatever. Benefit of the doubt, and all that.

They wanted to form a committee, which would decide if they would form another committee, which would pick the members of the committee that would then decide if maybe they wanted to try to intervene. Of course, it'd take a few hundred years to pick the members for the first committee. Screw all the humans dying and getting tortured forever in the meantime - what's really important is committees!

[Things that are sadly missing from their current setting: Popcorn. Slippers. Cute pajamas and fluffy pillows.

Michael has Aziraphale's full attention. His brow is furrowed in shared outrage as he listens, as he thinks of his own painfully bureaucratic dealings with Upstairs. Of all the bloody paperwork. He makes a quiet noise of disgust.]

Horrible. And you've... taken it upon yourself to... help them. Yes? Even though you're a demon.

Well, I smuggled four humans out of Hell and back to Earth a few years ago, so I'm not exactly going to go back to work.

[ha ha ha everybody wants him dead]

[Are those — are those stars in Aziraphale's eyes?

He smiles. Beams, even.]

Oh, I know someone you really must meet.

[But then, a frown.

A rather sad one, at that.]

...once I find him. My — my best friend. [THERE. HE SAID IT.] A demon who goes by the name Crowley. He should be here, too. It seems we were regrettably separated on our journey in.

Edited 2019-08-05 20:17 (UTC)

[A demonic best friend? It's a little hypocritical of him, maybe, but he can't see why. Must be some story there.]

You're sure he's here? All my humans - my Janet - I was with them when this happened to me, but they're still back at home.

[There's an ache of love there, one that doesn't really show itself on his face even now. Not with someone he's really only just met; it's too painful for that.]

[It doesn't show, no, but Aziraphale can feel that love. It pangs directly between his ribs, is strong enough to make him flinch — but he says nothing of it. Merely tucks the fact away for later.

Yes, he thinks Michael and Crowley will get on very well.

Crowley, who is definitely here. Who has to be here. Aziraphale can't even consider, can't fathom, can't imagine a world where they'd be apart — truly separated, for the first time in six thousand years.

He forces a smile.]

Oh, I'm sure. I can feel him.

[He... thinks.]

[Can he? Michael doesn't feel another demon around. He'd have noticed another demon.

But that would be a cruel thing to say. Maybe Aziraphale is just more attuned to his friend. Maybe not. His doubts can only hurt.]

Well, that's good. I hope you can find him. [more hurty love feelings] Although you should probably try to sober up first. My vessel hasn't worked right since I got here, it needs food and water and all this stuff...

Oh, that's what —

[He gestures at the champagne-soaked spot on the ground.]

That's what that was.

[Pause. This Michael seems like a very kind fellow, all things con—wait what did he just say.]

— pardon?

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