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 Posted: Sat Apr 09, 2011 11:56 pm
through the grapevine
April 5, 1411- Shyregoed.
META Quote: There's been a mark of hallucinations across Panymium, and many have sent certain people into a certain daze. The earth is being marked by copious amounts of sand, a kind of thing that Panymium rarely sees outside of the scattered beach shores, and the people and objects around them seem to be melting and molting feathers. Not only this, but you see a bird's visage at the corner of your eye, a bird-headed man covered in feathers with a bare and tanned body standing aimlessly amidst the crowds, when you are alone, at any time-- but he does not speak to you. At some point in time this bird-headed man will tempt you to do something, a question that has lurked at the back of your mind, and that question will be the only thing he will say to you before he disappears, molting away until he's nothing but a scattered collection of dust. What does he say, and what do you do in response?
The boy was on his way back from the nearby town (which, by now, had gotten used to him,) very much healthier than a few days before. Yet he reasoned with himself that what he'd heard was another vague hallucination, and with hitched breath Georgie walked briskly to the front gate of the estate, feigning confidence.
He waited at the front of the gates, satchel full of whatever things he found to eat, and a journal that was a bit more filled up than before. There was, oddly, a good number of Grimms and knowing men in this part of Shyregoed. Georgie sighed a sigh of great relief when a servant came around the bend to open the door, as the guards that usually paraded near the front were busy with other matters.
"He's hiding something from you," it came again, and with a startle Georgie turned around.
"Mister Georgie?"
The servant wryly held the gate open for him, nonplussed. Without a word of explanation, Georgie hurried in alongside him, staring at the ground all the while.
After greeting the lord's surrounding servants, the first thing Georgie did was rush upstairs, to the rooms. He peaked into either quarters, and was disappointed to see that neither the Clemmings nor Adal was there. In a mark of defeat Georgie simply sat at one of the beds, the very one he was stewing in while suffering from the Pestilence.
"He's hiding something from you."
Thrice and Georgie leaped from his bed, rushing to the corner near the windows. He stared on at the empty space of the room, and it was only upon scanning the place twice that he noticed the tall and bird-headed man blocking his only exit.
As if satisfied by Georgie's mere glance, the figure disintegrated into a plume of rising dust, fetid and black. Georgie covered his nose and mouth with his hands and watched with furrowed brows and dreadful frown as the door started to open and revealed, abruptly, Adal.
The Locos stared at the falling dust before him, wide-eyed with that rare smidgen of innocence. He looked up at Georgie.
"It's filthy in here," he closed the door and rested against it, staring at Georgie, who remained wholly silent.
"What? Was it your tongue that fell and turned to ash?" Adal teased, a smile growing on his features, until Georgie looked to the side with biting annoyance.
"Did you hear that?"
Adal frowned. "It was hard not to."
Georgie rested against the window. "So?"
Adal looked up at him, frowning.
"It was nothing," Adal stepped around the pile of dust, "Relevant, at least."
"What?"
Adal sat down on the bed. "A few weeks ago, you received a letter. It was blank. You didn't need to know about it--"
"Who sent it?" Georgie spat, desperately, "Does that mean you opened it? Without my permission?"
The Locos stared at the ground. "It was--"
"You did, didn't you! Where is it now?"
"I ripped it apart," the blonde scratched his neck, "I didn't think it'd be relevant--"
"Adal," Georgie hissed, "I can't believe you."
The Plague looked up at his Grimm, mouth gaped as Georgie paraded across the room and left him there alone. Adal squeezed his hands together but did not get up from where he sat, and instead gripped the side of his satchel with broiling hurt.
It was only moments before that a man of dust confronted him, saying: "No one trusts you."
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Posted: Sat Apr 09, 2011 11:58 pm
happiness
April 13, 1411- Shyregoed.
META Quote: The Black Death has been healed from you completely, and your body feels as if the entire experience has never happened, though the threat is seemingly lingering on-- the unmovable crows are still laying dead on the streets, now as hardened as rock and smelling of an even viler decay. Every Grimm has also been sent a letter, parallel to the one given to you at the start of all of this, wrapped now in red ribbon and delivered by a dove, glowing with white. The crinkled piece of parchment whispers to you, "You have a choice." The dove flutters its wings and is seemingly choking, then in front of you is something reasonably strange, bundles of extremely heavy feathers tied around with crude string. It whispers onward, "To make a Plague human or to taunt the Grimms further of the Black Death, grind these feathers to dust and feed it to the object of your attention." You've been given a choice-- not your Plague, nor your benefactor, no, simply you-- you can either use this strange gift to malevolently harm a Grimm and further their Black Death infestation or, on the other hand, you can use it to keep your Plague as a human for longer. Just before the dove flutters away from your sight, it whispers, "Now you know how wretched it feels, to be human and feel human sickness. Pray, will you play God with me?" Quote: Things seem to have calmed down unfathomably well since the beginning of this fifth week. For those of you who used the feathers, the effects have finally worn off and you're free once again of the Black Death or, to those few unfortunate Plague souls, are relieved of the shackles of a human's image. To those who didn't use those feathers given to you by the dove, however, it seems that those feathers are here to stay with you as a haunting memorandum. But, of course, there is consequence to playing God. After the phenomena with heavy-as-lead crows dying on the streets and your run-in with death, it seems that you're attracting nothing but it for the next few days. People around you will die, and there is no way you will help it. You'll smell the Black Death, you'll smell Death linger around you and you'll have the scent of a Plague through and through for the next few days, as if your disease has transferred from your physical body to your six senses. There is something in the back of your mind that is telling you that, yes, nearly instantly, anyone around you that isn't a Grimm or a Plague will be inflicted with the Black Death as soon as they move away from you. To the Plagues, however, all is normal. To those who answered to Obscuvos' heed, though, there is even better news-- if you've already taken action, he'll follow you without question and he'll never speak. What, exactly, do you think he's going to do to you, if you've had time to think at all? georgie is like wow gee look this feather -> lamenting cuz he think adal owe him a solid -> manages to gather up the balls to confront adal w/ feather all happy n s**t -> adal says bro back UP adal notice georgie was hapy 2 c him but georgie regret gettin feathers ah sad
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 8:26 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 8:27 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 8:29 pm
trampled tramps
April 26, 1411- Shyregoed.
META Quote: UPDATE 1: Grimms and Plagues, week 6 All that's left of the cultists now are quiet and disappointment. Even those who are of Obsucvan faith feel an eerie level of silence, as if they're being shunned, and it seems like the cultists are nowhere near in sight. It seems as if they've never been there at all, as if the House of Obscuvos was never there to begin with. What's worse, though, is the dissonance between your senses and everything around you. After this series of events and the troubles with Obscuvos himself, you end your week with a final visitation by a single man, who is bespectacled and ghastly, impossible to touch but entirely there. If you try to interact with him, he simply smiles, autonomously greeting you. He says, "It was a pleasure to get to know you these past six weeks, but I'm afraid it's my time to go. The Plague Doctor has a new competitor-- I am him, and it looks like you and your Plague might have to get used to more visits with your new ally." He salutes you by taking off his hat and bowing and, whisking himself away in the wind, disintegrating like dust, the only thing that's left of him is one thing-- A dead crow, like the ones you've seen these past six weeks... UPDATE 2: Panymium, week 6 ...And even those are starting to fade away from existence, or, shall we say, be returning to normal. As the week passes by each and every one of these crows, once heavy as lead when they were deceased, are becoming lighter and lighter by the hour. By the end of it streets are being flooded with floating crows, which are seemingly impossible to throw away, even if you try-- if you do, don't worry, they'll come alive and fly away the very instant you lay your finger on it. The strange thing, though, is that these armies of dead and now-floating crows are taking a strange leap into transformation as the days go by. These birds are now turning into robed husks, like the cultists that were following you only a few weeks ago, and threatened to attack you. While those cultists from earlier might have seemed completely sentient and human in thought process, these ones are shades of human beings, as black in aura as they were when they were crows. If you are around these dead crows, they'll make on last chase after you, armies of them near you transforming instant by instant, one by one. They will chase you until they can't chase you anymore, until they've transformed back into a seeping black goop-- the familiar scent of Putescos and the Furvus Elixir-- but how well do you fare and how many chase you? Most importantly, take care of not being harmed by the remaining goop... adal's like yo who the ******** are you -> except georgie's like wow help me i'm getting chased down -> adal is like yo follow me -> they reconcile kind of not really
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 8:30 pm
sordid
April 27, 1411- Shyregoed.
META UPDATE 3: those of wavering faith, week 6
...Or it will do a great many things to your health.
If Obscuvos was chasing you at any point in time the previous week, and has faded in and out of his appearance as of late, this is the time he'll become the most sentient. The black goop that's been appearing in masses across the streets have recollected and are seemingly immediately attracting to this god image that is following you around, real in mass or not. He is becoming a bulky and unavoidable thing, and what was once a stalker has now become murderous. He snares open his crow's beak and elongates his feathered neck, arched in an eerie fashion. Obscuvos can devour you.
This thing will murder you at any cost, and perhaps it will, but this instance of killing seems to be nothing but a delusion. Once he gets his final and imminent grip on you, you'll recognize your mode of death and you'll feel pain in the process, but after a strange dream you wake. When you wake, you're covered in a seeping black and you have complete memory of what just happened to you.
How do you get killed?
Did you really get killed at all?
UPDATE 5: Commonwealth, week 6
...And those reasons are about to be proved once again.
You find a bottle of Furvus Elixir somewhere around you. A note is attached to it, but it's blank, and it whispers one thing--
"Keep this safe." the fragile chains of his spine cracked to dust as a black, black mire
wrapped around him, and they embraced, his neck
contorted to face the earthly man, whose
face he mirrored in porcelain,
which cracked
and obscuvos
fed
on
His marrow. Adal drew in breath and lay snug against the dirt and snow of Shyregoed. He had fainted and dreamed, both of which were unlike him. His yellow eyes flickered between dim and stark light as he noticed a weight against his hands. He could not see much. The weight held him against the earth like an anchor.
The Locos curled up into himself and focused on this weight. His fingers twitched. It was something slick. Glass. He squinted and tried to focus his vision against it. Dark. Adal rolled over, face to the ground, and slowly raised himself to a haggard kneel.
He was hunching like an old crone, his head hanging heavily above his neck. His forehead pressed against the weight still burdensome to his hands.
lethargy
The world dragged on around Adal as he remained sitting there, astonished at the weight pressed against his hands, which he marveled with bright eyes like a child. He did not realize he was staring dumbfoundedly at a potion until his first thought struck:
Where upon Adal stood up and dragged his feet through the snow, the weight of the potion pressing him further, until he reached the caravan. There, Georgie greeted him with horror, as Adal was covered in a black, black mire.
He slept again,
and Georgie hid the potion later.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2012 8:53 pm
reclusesMay 1411 - December 1411
with Chauhn and Clurie.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2012 8:55 pm
be stillDec 1411 - Helios.
with Mr. Waldgrave and Armaud.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2012 4:30 am
and then there are like a billion solos before this but the old dirt roadOctober 1412 - Imisus.
with Jin-ho Kyon and Blaithe.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2012 4:36 am
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2012 4:38 am
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2012 1:36 pm
the tea partyThe New Year of 1413 - Imisus.
with Guardsmen, the Fellowship, & nobility.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2012 2:06 pm
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