Good evening, my friends!

A few nights ago my companions and myself met up with Mickey and were set upon by monsters. As you can plainly see-or, ah, hear-we are well enough.

The event got me thinking on a conversation I had with Alphonse some days past. How big must a group be to attract unwanted attention?

Thus far it seems to be five. My companions and I are four and we travel unharassed but meet with trouble when that number becomes more.

I wonder if anyone else has had similar experiences? We've long known larger groups draw the beasts but the precise numbers have been uncertain. Is there a point where an encounter becomes a certainty?

[For once Sherlock is not on text only, he's on video in all his glory. Which is a very diminished glory today, considering he looks terrible. Too thin in the face, though his clothes hide the rest of him, and dishevelled as though he's spent a few months not really putting any care into his appearance. His hair is longer than the last time anyone has seen him, and he looks older.

He's moving frantically in short bursts of energy, jittery, as if he isn't quite sure whether he wants to stay still or keep moving.]

Data, yes, I should share that. [It's a mumble to himself as the tablet tilts, giving an askew feed of the detective.] Purposeful death does cause nearly guaranteed revival, this has now been tested several times with no known cases of permanent death.

[The tablet shifts again as Sherlock moves between morgue drawers, checking them one by one and then moving on.]

John. [It's a sudden shift in direction.] John Watson, has anyone seen him?

the way hasbeen
opened

*After a few moments for people to read that, the post switches to a short video of the doors at the end of the split tunnels Hsiaoke Pass opening.
Then it switches back to text.*

- .... . / ... .--. .. .-. .- .-.. / -.-. --- -. - .. ..- -. . ...

((Because Brian can't ever do anything straightforward The morse code at the end translates to "the spiral contiunes"))

[ Video - filtered away from the Joker ]

[ Steph holds a doll up to the camera. It's wearing a letterman jacket, and looks suspiciously like Zach Spencer. ]

How many of you know anything about Voodoo dolls?

For those of you that don't, Voodoo is a combination magic/religion from my world, the reality of which is questionable. It's old and common enough that it's a pop culture thing now. I think Hoodoo is the religion and Voodoo is the magic, but I might have that backwards.

Anyway, a popular image is the Voodoo doll. It's a doll made to look like a person, maybe with a hair or something added in the stuffing. The idea is that you injure the doll and the actual person gets injured.

I'm not totally sure that that's what this is, but the fact that there are several of these dolls is creepy as all get out.

Also, please nobody tell the Joker about this. For obvious reasons.

[ Private to Frisk ]

[ She puts the Zach doll down and picks up the goat one. ]

I, uh, thought you might be interested in this one.

[ Private to Tony ]

[ And now she switches to the red action figure. ]

Look familiar?

[ Private to Dug ]

[ And now, the dog! ]

Would you mind if I held on to this? I'll take good care of it, I promise.

[The audio playback on Stephen's tablet is gone, the speakers destroyed. When it happened during House's experiment he wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't gone deaf for the first few seconds. He doesn't entirely trust his voice (especially not putting it out there when he can't hear his own recording) but his hands sure as hell aren't cooperating, so for once he'll concede to using the voice to text function. It's something of a mistake; he's sleep deprived and the machine is uncooperative.]

Doctor House is dead. Again. Hitting the creature in the morgue with a mallet does not prevent it from killing you I think that probably should have been obvious.

It can be hit. He proved that it was not a hallucination but probably an anomaly the same as the ones seen outside the morgue. The mallet used to hit it was coated in rubble and it definitely struck.

[What more is there to say about that? House got a result. That result just doesn't seem to Stephen like it was worth a man's life. He pauses, gathers his thoughts, and goes on.]

I have evidence that the nanomachines are acting on in organic beings. The attached images are magnifications of the hem of my cloak which has magical properties that have been dampened here. You'll see something similar to capillaries in the fourth through sixth images though of course it doesn't have a vascular system given that it is in fact a piece of fabric. We can conclude that beings incompatible with the technology have been changed to make them compatible.

Your a very nice piece of fabric. Stop that. Stop.

Does anyone know how to fix the speakers on one of these tablets.

[Attached are a series of images taken through a compound microscope. The first few show woven fabric under magnification; in still images there isn't really anything wrong to be seen. It's when the images get to views of individual threads that one can just make out tiny vessels with black specks inside.]

I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few weeks about a problem with the guide that I just couldn't figure out how to fix, that it's never going to be completely accurate about what's been found or what people are trying to figure out that they might need help with, because-- well, because I'm only one person, and everyone's so spread out. And that's another problem, a lot of people are wandering alone because they just don't know how to meet with anyone else, especially people new here.

So I've made this... uh, hang on a moment...

[There's a pause and some metallic fumbling noises, before this link gets sent out.]

I thought it might help people who are alone, or help more people with information get together and put the puzzle pieces together. I've also updated the survival guide, but if anyone can find any errors or have any updates that I haven't caught, please tell me.

[And a link to the survival guide follows.]

Thanks, everyone.

[The camera seems to be pulled back somewhat so that the viewer can see more of the scene. Aymeric is holding a fluffy white cat up. He is grinning ear to pointy ear about this development.]

Good evening, fellows! I would like all of you to meet my dear cat. [the cat barely tolerates being held up like this. It slips out of his hands and onto his shoulder to glower at Estinien and his sheep.] His name is Lord Byron. I do not recommend trying to pet him, however. He doesn't much care for strangers. I suppose this is a bit of public service announcement as well...

[He holds up his hands. They have clear cat scratches all over them. Even though Aymeric isn't a stranger to his own pet cat.]

[It hisses at Estinien and his karakul]

I wonder how he got here.

Characters: everyone
Location: mysterious, white hallways
Date: Day 193-194
Summary: Find friends. Get lost. Don't look.
Warnings: Potential for gore and psychological horror. Please note any specific warnings in your subject lines!

While confusingly similar, the area is split into a few different sections:

The Core
The hallways here are narrow and twist at a rapid rate. With how dazzlingly white everything is, it's easy to not realize you're coming on a turn and slam right into the walls. There are no rooms here--no one starts here, though they may find it while they wander. At the center is a large, round area, like the center of a spiral. There's a lot of air pressure here.

The Inner Hallways
The largest area, filled with dead ends, gentle slopes and twists, and, occasionally, difficult-to-see drops where a higher hallway intersects with a lower one without a wall to separate them. The whole place tastes vaguely like blood. Most rooms are here--most people start here.

The Outer Hallways
The outer ring of the ball of yarn. It's not as thick with halls and twists as the other two areas, leading to a lot more boring walking in one direction. It's totally possible to circle around the same path multiple times without realizing it, as everything is so similar here. Occasionally, footsteps can be heard just outside the farthest walls. Sometimes, something breathes. There are a few rooms here--some people will start here.


Remember to note what kind of eyes your character has in their top level!

Okay, this is going to sound morbid, but I'm trying to understand something. [There's no preamble to the start of the post. For once, Claire is not on video, but on audio. There's something shaky about her voice, but she's got herself mostly under control, right now. She has a plan. And questions.]

Any of you ever remember anything about the time during which you were dead, while in Norfinbury? Anything you can recollect? Dreams, memories, anything strange at all? Feel free to tell me in private if you prefer. I'm also interested in discussing the science behind death, in this town.

[There's a small pause. She finds it hard to explain that it's simply because she cannot believe it was a true death, but has to be explained in another way. She's still going through the different possibilities, be it drugs, nanomachines, the anomalies being poisonous on contact, anything. She just can't have died, since she's here. That's not how it works.]

Sort of related note, does anyone know where I can find a rosary?

[Haurchefant is holding the tablet in one hand, his features are serious.]

I wish to speak of the ill fate that befell us over a week ago and the air of discomfort that followed thereafter.

The workings of this place set us to hunt one another. It turned brother against brother. That was dark magicks at work, not our will.

[He shakes his head.]

Since then some among us have retained the eyes. Now is not the time to take a knife to one another, rather we must rally together. We must find a way to end this mummery, not perpetuate it through violence.

I know not who the Prophet was and I care not. What I care about is our safety. If we let this place drive a wedge between us we will lose this game, whatever it may be.

Pray, keep strong my friends.

[The video opens to Claire, and only Claire. She's obviously in the corner of a room, careful with the camera angle. She doesn't want her companions to show up on the network if they don't feel like, but she prefers to show her face. Could make her more trustworthy to some.

She lifts a hand, waves, smiles crookedly.]

Hi, everyone.

I don't want this to become long, so I'll cut straight to the chase: in the past little while, I have been compiling a small guide to the most common injuries that can be possibly expected, and some field techniques to treat them.

It is by no means exhaustive, and I plan on adding to it - if you have anything you'd like to see covered, let me know. I'll add it in if there anything that can be done. In any case, I hope this helps if you find yourself stranded somewhere and need to get back on your feet.

[Attached to the message is a link, called Minor Injuries and How To Treat Them.]

If you have any questions, happy to answer them.

[Claire looks away from the camera, and shortly after, the feed cuts. Seems like Claire really didn't want this message to get long.]

Characters: anyone and everyone
Location all around town
Date: Night 180
Summary: Kill the sinners or run for your lives.
Warnings: Horror, potential gore and death. Please note more specific warnings in subject lines!

close we will live, dilly dilly
and when we die
both in one grave, dilly dilly
close we will lie

[ It's very late. Late enough for the majority of the video to be pitch black, with the tablet screen not illuminating much more than Angel's face. Possibly a good thing, since she just woke up in the police station morgue and nobody wants to see video of body lockers at fuck o'clock in the morning.

Okay maybe some people would. But they're weirdos and don't count. ]

I know a lot of people won't be awake right now, but I think this is information that needs to be public as soon as possible. The anomaly that attacked me and my friends a few days ago displayed some behaviour that I hadn't seen before. She-- it didn't appear while we were travelling, or smash its way into the building - it managed to work the door open. Like - um, like a person.

[ Awkward. Since the anomaly in question both looked like a particular person and responded to their name. Best not to think about that, though. ]

They seem to be getting smarter. I suggest blocking the doors to any buildings you stay overnight in until you're ready to leave, and being extra vigilant when you make your exit. I don't want anyone to be caught unawares like we were.

[John's voice is significantly less nasally and pained that it has been in recent days when he's gotten on the audio for network communications. It's a miracle healing for his broken nose! He's going to gloss over that unless someone asks directly, though. The doctor has taken note that the Obituaries have been delayed from their usual pattern... not that he's complaining. It means fewer people to fuss.]

Hullo everyone. This is Dr. John Watson. I have some additional information about the blood transfusions I mentioned in one of my last messages. First and foremost, you can request your blood-type from the Admin. If you're comfortable sharing that with me publicly or privately, I can start putting together a database to match up potential donors and recipients if and when we can find the full equipment we need for transfusions. Please remember that transfusions are an untested treatment for MN Poisoning. There's no guaranteeing that it'll work, so you're welcome to wait on that.

The other piece of news is positive, but... [There's some hesitance as he trails off.] It may also be somewhat distressing. For at least one of the non-humans here, when asked for their blood type from the Admin, she responded with a human blood type that had an 'adjusted' notation next to the type. I believe the transition to Norfinbury and the presence of the nanomachines in our systems is the reason for the alteration. I'm honestly not sure of the implications of this for beyond Norfinbury, but before anyone panic, please remember that you are fine at the moment, and you'll very likely be fine moving forward. In so much as any of us are fine.

[@joacin's voice is calm, husky, and professional.]

I would like to announce that the rubble in the museum has been cleared. There is now a viable path to the other side.

[there is an accompanying video:

the camera focuses on haurchefant — who else? — doing some heavy lifting, shouldering a large block of concrete from the pile and pushing it to one side. he isn't wearing a shirt, and even in the dim lighting of the museum, his muscles glisten with an alluring mist of moisture. haurchefant grunts. he doesn't seem entirely aware he's being filmed.

the camera then pans over to aymeric, who is just as topless and well-built as the first elezen, though considerably more tan, and less sweaty. he pauses in his work to sigh and roll his shoulders, running one hand through his dark and attractively disheveled hair. the camera keeps moving. house and merlwyb come into frame, but even though merlwyb has stripped down to a fairly revealing cotton bodice, the video doesn't linger on her. instead, it moves toward the last of the ishgardian knights, estinien, who has just finished removing the last of his armor; his back muscles flex while he pulls his luxurious silver locks into a ponytail — and just as he turns around, the video ends.]

Thank you for your patience regarding this matter.



[...unsurprisingly, five minutes later, @joacin posts another message to the network.]

apolgies
my apologies
please do not watch the preceding clip, here is the correct video
i am deeply sorry please frgvie me goodbye

[the second accompanying video is much shorter, and simply features the rubble pile collapsing in a cloud of dust, metal, wood, and glass while a startled hange yelps and moves out of the way. when the dust settles, there's a clear path to the other side! how nice!

...no shirtless elves in sight!]

I can't sleep.

[The tablet is on the floor, lighting its own patch of paleness on the ceiling above. Beckett is lying next to it, prone on his back - that's what the angle of his arm, raised half-heartedly into the frame, suggests. He pulls more clearly into view for a moment, rising to a sitting position, to squint at the camera. His glasses are off, and his eyes glow a faint red in an ashen face.]

For all I know, I imagined it - the girl, the eyes. I'm certain the red pen was real, though, and the choice that came with it.

[He falls back again. Too tired to sit up. The tablet records to show nothing but light and shadow as he speaks.]

It may have been just me. Doubtful, but possible... but it was not just me who saw things. Perhaps we all did. I'd like to know what. Piece of some whole, or just another attack on what's left of our collective sanity... either way. For the sake of the record, if not any kind of answer.

[His relationship with answers isn't getting any less complicated. His voice drops low, dreamlike as he speaks on.] I saw a girl wearing a cloak. She was drawing the eyes, all around me... around me... until I was surrounded. She climbed on my back and drew her eyes on mine, and I knew there was no leaving. There has never been, not for me. Perhaps we are all...

[Too much. He stops abruptly, and rises again, grabbing for the tablet.]

It's all in my notes.

[The recording ends. In its place he sends his notes file out again.]