06 . the sleepy town expedition.

[necrolord]

Who: necrolord, Gideon, Harrow, Paul, Kaworu, "Shannon," Mako, Ford, Shiro, Ruby, Luna, Faith, Willow, Ezra, Zhongli, Perell.
What: An intentional family-and-friends roadtrip to a forbidden holy ruin. A less-intentional catacombs adventure.
When: 3/14.
Where: Sleepy Town and the Catacombs.

Content Warnings: Sleepy Town-typical themes of grief, loss, and surreal landscapes. Catacombs-typical horror per the March event. Also, note all the usual warnings of this character.

[ See this doc for info! ]

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01 . ARRIVAL MINGLE

[necrolord]

[ Maybe you're a lore researcher, and the strange but friendly black-eyed man— a standard fixture in the Archives, always fiddling with a vial of Beast blood and going hmm— invited you along on a little scouting project. Maybe you're a half-Corrupted, all-exhausted teenager who's been dragged along with the air of an unwanted family roadtrip. Maybe you've never met a necromancer in your life, and one of your friends invited you to come along as backup.

Maybe you just want to dig through the scraps of a dream you left behind, hoping for something like closure.

Either way: here you are, Sleeper, at the edge of Sleepy Town. The great wall is heavy, imposing dark wood, etched with a thousand carvings of deer. The gates are shut and locked.

How do you plan to get over? ]

[slayerskiss]

[Faith steps up, looking at the leaders with half a hand up like it's a school field trip.]

So... uh... do we have a plan of attack regarding this fuckin' door? I'm guessing knocking it down is a no go? [Because otherwise, why would it still be standing.]

[onekindsoul]

Oh! Well if we can't go through it we could try going over it!

I could probably carry a few people over with my semblance or throw them over with the momentum of a shot of my scythe.

...You might have to cover the landing yourself if I toss anyone over though.

[arclightning]

Remember what you're looking for.

[ Mako is saying to whoever is actively listening to his little opening briefing.

He's decked out in "adventure gear," courtesy of Wu, who literally can't let Mako do anything that isn't on-theme. This really just means sturdy ("but still fashionable, Mako!") boots and a dark trenchcoat with a lot of pockets to cut the chill. Out of one of the pockets sticks a little magnifying glass ("For, you know! Detecting things!").

A quiet breeze makes the coat flap around Mako's ankles as he talks, narrow-eyed and intent. ]

We're trying to figure out what got carried over from the dream and why this world is the way it is. It's all probably going to be weird, but look for anything familiar, and keep an eye out for statues of deer, antlers, and anything useful. Any questions?

[frogiturgy]

In many ways, Perell hated this. He was not a man inclined towards that thing called exercise, and it showed in how it seemed almost as if a stiff breeze could topple the skinny nerd. However, the promise of information and his own hunger for it was enough to have him tugging on a leather longcoat and wide brimmed leather hat despite his own physical aches and pains.

Springtime may have swept away the lockjoint, but he was left instead and lingering aches from an unknown source. Not for the first time since arriving, he felt like his body hated him.

Having a project was a welcome distraction.

When the strange researcher passed an invitation his way in the archives, he found it hard to say no-- and doubly so upon realizing that a few familiar faces were also onboard

"So, uh, anyone have a short version of what went down before all this?"

He waved at the imposing door and all that it implied with a pencil in hand. His other held fast to a roughly bound blank notebook.

"I wasn't in the Dream, and my closest sources tend to tell their own version of things."

Not that it wasn't true-- but he wanted a clearer picture than Vyng being the Spirit Walker and Tuck flirting with every hot girl he came upon.

02 . EXPLORATION

[necrolord]

[ Once inside, you find the vast and unmapped ruin of a town. Those who lived through the dream will recognize many of the streets and buildings, but some additions are wholly new. This place is haunted by familiar ruins from all worlds— and still stalked by the monsters of Trench.

Before everything goes wrong, the party will have an hour or two to explore as a group. They may even turn up something useful in their search. ]

[shiro2hero]

I remember this road...

[Shiro, standing in Main Street. Looking a thousand miles away and present all at once. His Omen, the white lioness, prowls around his feet, pausing at the slightest of sounds on the air. Everything is so... it's familiar and strange at the same time. A weird feeling of dissociation. He knows this street. He knows where he is.]

[But it looks as if it's been decades. Instead of just months.]

It's a long shot, but, maybe we can find something useful at the drugstore. Or... what they have left of it.

- Memory Lane (Closed to Willow)

[slayerskiss]

[Things have been... a bit awkward, between Faith and Willow lately. Between Willow's death, Tara choosing to stay with Faith, Willow losing her memories, it's hard for Faith to feel completely at ease around her.

But she notices, as they're exploring, Willow lingering on her lonesome for a moment, so she slings her rifle over her shoulder and approaches.]

This place has a lot of memories for you, huh. [It'd be what she just returned from, more or less.] Holdin' up alright, Wil?

03a . SLEEPY TOWN ADVENTURES

[necrolord]

[ And then, inevitably, it goes wrong. The gang splits up, and... does not reconvene. Nearly half the party vanishes without a trace.

This would be troubling enough on its own. Worse, those left behind in Sleepy Town begin to hear the howling of some great beast in the distance. As though in answer, a dozen smaller cries rise up somewhere out there in the ruined town.

Be careful, Sleepers, because something knows you're here. ]

— luna; death statue hunting!

[creidim]

[ Later on, Luna splits off from the rest of the group to looking for something specific. She promises to keep in touch, her Omen leaping cautiously in the air above her head like some silent phantom. Inlé will be able to send a message quick enough should anything happen. While the terrain is much more difficult to navigate and nothing seems quite as she remembers it — she has a general vague idea of where she needs to go: around the edges of where Lake Tomie and the National Park would meet.

If they're looking for remnants of the Death Realm, Luna knows exactly where they might be able to find a way of getting there. She has no idea if her statue might still remain, but she has a feeling it very well could be. The statues could never be broken, after all. And maybe, she wonders, if it might mean part of Ramona could be found there.

It takes time, though. Searching through overgrown vegetation is hard, distracting work. She doesn't hear someone approaching until too late and she react as quick as she can. She turns quickly and draws her Dream Hunter bow; a wispy arrow forming ready to fire — until she realises it's someone else from their expedition part. Luna exhales in relief, lowering the bow. ]

Oh. [ She smiles weakly. ] Sorry, this place is terribly good at keeping one on their toes.

03b . CATACOMBS ADVENTURES

[necrolord]

[ As for the missing half of the party: one moment they stand among the ruins of a dreamed-up town. In the next, they're being yanked underground.

Everyone lands on their ass in a room of heavy stone. This is the Moss King's central chamber: goat-head statue, flames for its eyes, its great gaping mouth a doorway. There are adventuring packs tucked into the cubbies along the walls, waiting to be claimed. Further in, the walls don't seem to be stone at all, but a tight latticework press of a thousand million skeletons.

To the Nine Houses folks, it honestly feels like home. ]

ARRIVAL

[necrolord]

CALLING FIRE

[necrolord]

CHRONOLOGY OF SEASONS

[necrolord]

TIL DEATH DO WE PART

[necrolord]

AS ABOVE, SO BELOW

[necrolord]

04a . BOSS FIGHT

[necrolord]

[ The situation, unsurprisingly, escalates. That dreadful howl draws closer and closer... and then Deerlona is upon you.

Those who knew her in Deerington will not recognize her as she is now: warped, monstrous, seemingly mindless. But she'd been a Sleeper like you, once.

What will you do? ]

[onekindsoul]

[Ruby was scouting out a few rooftops when the monstrous Deerlona barrels down the road and leaps up to take a swing at Ruby, smashing up part of the building as she comes up.

Ruby's quick to duck out of the way but Deerlona's surprisingly face. She takes out her scythe in rifle mode and takes a few shots at the beast as she moves to retreat. Leaping from one rooftop to another.]

Hey guys! I found something!

Something really angry!

And familiar!

A little help here!

[creidim]

[ So this is what has become of Ramona Derwin.

(This is what they've done to her.)

She'd not looking to actively looking to harm her; even as a beast, Ramona is still her — or perhaps whatever might be left of her. Luna moves quickly, flinging spells, this way and that — trying to distract her so the others can get out of the way of her charges. No one wants to be on the end of those teeth, or antlers.

But it's tricky to try and avoid that. Deerlona charges at another of her travelling companions and Luna hurries to stop her. With a wide sweep of her arm, she cries out a shield charm — soft blue light streaks before them, and the beast slams across the barrier like a fly would again glass. While she's dazed, it gives them a few precious moments for Luna to grab their hand to find somewhere to hide. ]

Run, now—!

04b . GETTING OUT

[necrolord]

[ Exhausted, variously singed and filthy, the Sleepers stumble out of an unmarked grave and into the light. They've been returned to the Graveyard, and it will be a short but awkward walk through the snowy and monster-ridden woods north to the mansion.

The mansion will quickly be crowded with visitors. If you want to talk in private, now's the time. ]

for jod

[forwantofahorse]

[The house is quiet. Even the distant clattering of bones doesn't break the silence. Sayo's gaze is locked on something far away, her ears ringing with all the words that once filled the now-empty catacombs.

"Tell me how you got out. Tell me more about where he is. Tell me anything. And you can do what you want. You can kill me. I don't care."

Why is it that she only sees herself reflected in inhuman all-too-human eyes?

"She's helping us, even though she thinks that she's worse than she is."

What farce. If only Paul knew what she'd really done.

"There is no one who loves God. I killed them all."

Sayo contemplates the skull she holds in her hands, its eyes shining with a faint, golden light.] ...or not to be, [she murmurs. It speaks to how dire she's feeling that she can't even summon a smirk at her own reference. (It's no surprise that she feels empathy for the Prince of Denmark.)]

Necromancer. [Of course he's there.] ...can I have a favor? [There's a pleading edge to her voice as she holds the skull that houses Kanon's soul fragment.]

05 . CLOSING MINGLE

[necrolord]

[ Well, that was unpleasant.

God invites everyone back for drinks.

The mansion is an incredible, dilapidated Victorian. Standing like gargoyles along the fence are the clean white skeletons of batcats, which might seem only mildly unnerving until a humanoid skeleton opens the door for you. There are a handful of skeletons puttering around, cleaning or fetching drinks as needed. No one who lives here seems to acknowledge them as strange.

Inside, you'll be invited to drop into a chair or couch. The man running things— whose name you perhaps never caught, somehow— is handing out mugs of tea. With a shot of whiskey, if you ask. He's available to patch up physical injuries or chat about your discoveries, and he acts for all the world as though everyone's just come home from a long but satisfying camping trip.

This is probably normal. ]

OTA

[necrolord]

[ Welcome to the horrible bone mansion. Your nameless host has dirt in his hair and a new rip in his worn black shirt. He has just shooed away a skeleton butler— you assume it's a butler, anyway, it's been clattering around mechanically with a platter of drinks— and he greets you by pressing a hot mug of tea into your hand. Sweetened, no milk. ]

So, did you have a nice field trip?

[ Before you can answer, he holds up a bottle of whiskey. ]

If not: one shot or two?

ota | cw: minor injury

[creidim]

[ Luna has been on long, but satisfying camping trips. This was not one of them.

Tea is taken and clutched close to her chest as she sits curled in a chair in the corner, exhausted and battered but in relatively one piece — gently picking and prodding at a deep cut on her knee through torn trousers, yet to be seen to. She's happy enough to wait, though. Others are likely more hurt than she. She's glad the others who disappeared from Sleepy Town managed to get out safely enough, though. There's other small cuts and bruises visible from the fight, but nothing thankfully too serious.

She sits in a daze, eyes glossed over slightly — appearing not quite mentally present to everyone else around them. In part, it's because she's mentally speaking with Peter via their link, trying to assure him she's alright, that she'll be home soon enough.

But she's also lost in her own thoughts, about Ramona — appears guilt-ridden, something slight in the dazed expression. She never wanted this for her. She never chose this for her, even if it seems it's what the others in majority did. She feels truly wretched about the whole thing. ]

not here.

[necrolord]

The night winds down into a comfortable exhaustion. Darkness falls, warm and smelling of flowers; acquaintances file out into it in ones and twos and threes. A skeleton butler shuts the door that final time, and the house falls to its usual quiet nighttime hum. Somewhere, Gideon and Harrow move about their separate bedrooms; somewhere, Paul and Kaworu are speaking quietly while God's dead lizard curls up doglike on the bed.

John taps each of the lunar orbs in the foyer and hall to snuff them. He still carries a tumbler of whiskey, and he swishes it absently as he goes. It is only as he shoulders open the bedroom door that he realizes:

There is something in his room.

It's a grand old king bed in a grand old room: dark woods, creaky rafters, everything sea-aged and stately. On his nightstand is a clutter of mugs and forgotten notes. Atop the dresser is a book of old poetry, borrowed from the Archives, left quietly shut: he got three stanzas deep into something he knew, then had to put it down for a long, long while. He hasn't picked it up again.

On the bed is a folded white robe like the pillow for a wedding ring: atop it is a coiled length of chain.

John shuts the door. He considers, then downs the last of his whiskey. He sets the glass down on his dresser with a click beside the poems, and he goes to have a look.

The shackles are almost familiar. The chain glows a gentle, malevolent red. He slides his palm beneath the opalescent fabric of his robe— his robe, the one he has gifted to his closest and most holy, the one he has the authority to grant— and lifts robe and chain both.

Even without direct contact, the moment he shifts the things, the smell fills the room. He's encountered it often enough, lately. He'd remember it keenly even if he hadn't: seawater has so distinct a smell.

Very calmly, with his jaw set like carved marble, John picks up the chains barehanded. They are cold and clammy like something packed in saltwater. They do not hurt him. He carries them to his closet— where else would he keep his skeletons, right?— and sets the coils gently on a shelf. He hangs the robe beside its filigreed cousin gifted to him in January. He leaves the lot of it to gather dust, and shuts the closet door.

Then he goes, sits on the bed, and stares at his hands. The silence builds until he says to his empty palms, low and clear:

"You'll have to try harder than that."

He stays like that for a long time.