[ It takes several false starts before Wilson finally gets the message out. He's forgoing voice and video in favor of text. It's easier that way, if only marginally. He didn't need this to remind him that life here (if it can be called that) sucks, but it's been thrown into sharper relief now. ]

Hey, in case anyone wanted to know: House is dead.

An anomaly got him.

[ He's not really sugar-coating it, because how do you sugarcoat something like this? Even his best bedside manner and talent for knowing just how to deliver the worst news isn't really any use here. ]

I just thought you might want to know.

[ Maybe a more general "you", since he's quite aware of the public feeling House stirs up. But he said what he wanted to say, so that's that.

He figures he might as well try to say something else not related to House's demise, though, so he asks a question that he feels might be largely pointless in the long run: ]

Other than that, how are you all holding up?

[ Of course, he's certain the answer is "not well", but old habits die hard, and he still does genuinely want to check in with them. ]

[Look, Maybe he'll be more successful with this than with what happened with Angel.]

The Guardians of the Galaxy are gonna do a totally heroic thing for you, the good people of this town--we're gonna go and see if we can get the coffin room unlocked with our super cool galaxy key.

But we don't work for free, so we're expecting payment for our services.

What do you got to trade? We'll take anything good.

[Hello world, it's Alfie time. There's no preamble here - in a quiet, hoarse voice, he just jumps right in with this:]

Three men are in prison, right, and they're set to be executed the very next day. And the warden, he comes by and tells the three of them that they'll all be granted whatever they wish for their last meal. "I'd like a nice, juicy steak," says the first, and the warden says all right, and he writes down steak. "I'd like an entire cream tart," says the second, and the warden says all right and writes that down as well. "I'd like a bowl of strawberries," says the third. And the warden says, "Strawberries? Strawberries are out of season, mate."

The third man shrugs his shoulders. "Are they? Well, all right; I'll wait."

[There's the sound of Royce groaning loudly, cut off by Alfie turning off the feed.

It's late, it's cold, and he can't sleep. Everybody pile in and tell your own dumb jokes 1 2 3 GO]

I contacted the administrator about what happened to us, and I have some... potentially bad news.

[ She looks and sounds very calm about it, but anyone even slightly familiar with Angel probably knows that's the norm for her. A worried little frown does appear as she continues, though. ]

She refused to confirm that Robert Miller was in custody, and only said that she's doing what she can to contain the problem. Iunno how familiar you guys are with PR speak, but that kiiinda sounds like he's still on the loose to me. He is - er, was? - the tech guy, so I suppose if anyone would know how to evade detection via the nanomachines or security it'd be him.

I think it would be prudent to collectively step up our game when it comes to remaining vigilant! Try not to be alone, maybe set up some kind of shift system for sleeping so that someone's always on watch, that kinda thing. We probably won't be able to stop anyone being taken again if he wants to do that, but perhaps it will help us get a distress call to the admin as soon as possible? In - in the event that he'd try something similar again, anyhow.

[ She's not actually convinced that they'll be able to help themselves at all, no matter how prepared they are. But feeling like you're doing something is important, right? And she's good at lying, so she can at least sound like she completely believes what she's saying. ]

Sorry. To be the bearer of bad news. This freaking sucks.

Characters: the marked, the unmarked, and their rescuers
Location: ???
Date: Morning 356
Summary: Time to get out of here.
Warnings: gore, psychological horror, warn for specifics in the subject lines

Part Six OOC Post

Characters: red-marked characters
Location: ???
Date: Morning & Day 353
Summary: You wake up in a cell.
Warnings: general horror warnings; please note in subject lines for anything specific that comes up

Consolidation Theory OOC Post
Part Two OOC Post

[A sigh.]

ANYWAY...

You poor people don't have to worry about sacrificing blood to the blood god anymore.

You're welcome.

cw: religious extremism; suicide and murder linked to religious cause; sexual harassment

[Tess looks much the same as she did when she was last seen alive. Red lines in the shape of fractals cover her body, her eyes completely red as well. There's a large feathered serpent coiled around her shoulders and an unimpressed look on her face. Anyone familiar with the columbarium might recognize the rows of plaques behind her.]

Alright, so I've had enough of playing mortal -- walking around on foot, making people breakfast, dying. I'm done, moving on, next plan. For those of you who actually fell for that whole line cook thing -- I'm Tess, Goddess of the Search, Mother Serpent, Child of Ragnarok, and Lifeblood of the Wayward -- and life blood's what we're here to talk about right now. See, my essences have been all kinds of unbalanced since I got dragged into this Hel-hole -- too much human, not enough divine. And we all know humans are basically useless, am I right?

But that's where you come in, because believe it or not, you little bastards do have the occasional use. Whoever brings me back into my power I will remember -- they will have my blessing and my protection and I will take them with me when I destroy this place.

It's nothing hard, nothing complicated, nothing one or another of you hasn't done before. There are ten or twelve liters of blood in the human body. Spill it in my name. Because hey -- even if it doesn't work, at least we'll have learned something, right?

[When she smiles, it's the same easy smile as always, the same face that makes dumb puns and offers of breakfast. Whatever has changed, Tess is still Tess...but sees nothing wrong with anything she's just said.]

[The feed clicks on with -- SURPRISE!! -- the Joker striking a pose. He appears to be in the funeral home of the Radiation Zone.]

Aloha, lovelies, Joker here!

[He pauses and gestures to whoever is holding the camera.]

YOU should be introducing me, by the way, aren’t you familiar with show business?

[ ...Anyone who’s heard Squalo speak can probably recognize his voice without much trouble even if he's not in view himself - there's that telltale underlying growl that sounds like someone’s yelling through sore throat. ]

Hey, you’re not on camera because you look better. Aren’t YOU the show biz expert here? Just get to it.

[With a whirl, Joker approaches a large coffin and taps it with his fireplace poker.]

Anyhoo, yours truly and the merry band of mountbanks found a secret in the coffin. Observe.

[He pulls open the coffin lid, steps inside, and disappears downwards. The camera follows, revealing a hole in the bottom of the coffin as Squalo breaks into a fit of sharp, nearly hyena-like cackles. How does anyone figure out breaking through the bottom of a coffin? Maybe you should ask. Or not. The view moves past the hole, going down a ladder into a dark room below. Joker stands in the shadows, grinning toothily, illuminated by the light from a second tablet. The lower the camera goes, the more distorted the view gets. Between it and the dark, it’s almost impossible to make anything out, but there are still occasional clear bits. ]

-- [ static ] -- Better describe it. Don’t think anyone --//-- see shit past your shiny face. --//-- looks kinda --//-- Pit room, actually -- fuck this.

[ The camera wiggles around to show off what are probably white walls then focuses on Joker and his light and retreats back up, the distortion easing up enough to transmit the rest of the sound more clearly. ]

It’s a metal room.

It’s also a toasty metal room!

About twenty celsius. That’d be seventy fahrenheit. And, yes, you can sleep down here. Now, isn’t that fun?

[There’s a clank, like someone knocking against a wall.]

Oh, and this here door-- SQUALO! ARE YOU STILL THERE?

YEAH I'M FUCKING THERE! Can’t get signal down here. I’ll try from the ladder.

[ The camera shifts around slightly, settling on the dot of light in the dark and trying to close in. Between the distorted bits, it’s possible to make out the vague shape of a door, then it zooms out again. ]

...This door doesn’t open. Maybe it leads into the tunnels. Or into the jaws of a giant monster. Who knows around this joint?

[ The camera shuffles and goes back all the way up to the coffin room, and a moment later Joker emerges from the coffin as well (the camera angle makes it look vaguely Dracula-like), the recording now clear again. ]

Right. Doesn’t seem to accept any keys or cards or lullabies or whatever. Yeah, I tried the foot key too, nada. So. Anyone got more ideas for opening this thing? We've got time to try some shit out.

[A sharp, histrionic shout.]

Alright, daddy's had enough.

I'm missing a harlequin.

I'm getting very worried so someone please return her immediately or I'll...uh

[A pause.]

I'll kill someone each day until my poopsie is back at my side.

Characters: Anyone participating in the Pit event.
Location: A room.
Date: Day 330
Summary: You wake up in a room.
Warnings: general warnings; potential for morbid/suicidal thoughts; note specific warnings in subject line, please!

[He's pretty much just going to cut to the chase here.]

I'm going to start a criminal database. Clearly there's no law enforcement, but it would be dead helpful to those of us who are interested in that kind of thing to have a database on noted criminals. And by criminals, I'm using the term very loosely, considering that those of us who...pursue said criminals are criminals by definition ourselves. Anyway, a real database will help in solving future incidents. Which, I'm sure there will be some.

I know there's already a warning about people in the notes, which is great, but what I want is this:

Names. Descriptions. People who have attempted, or succeeded, to kill, assault, rob people here -- anything that harms other people or their property, I want to know about it. And people who have attempted to do similar in their home worlds, not counting war veterans or police officers. I want details, and dates if you can give them.

Characters: Everyone Listed Here
Location: All around Norfinbury
Date: Night of 320
Summary: Some current residents of Norfinbury attempt to reach out to "Those who were here first."
Warnings: General Norfinbury Warnings. Will update if required
Notes: This is the log for the Tablet Seance discussed OOCly Here and ICly Here.
Events in this post come AFTER Tess's broadcast

( Night 320 w.graham; video )

[OOC: EVERYTHING IS READY TO GO!! Please hold off commenting until I have the threads established!

It probably goes without saying, but threadjacking is encouraged! ]

[This is Christmas. House's idea of Christmas, anyway. Sudden onset of deadly illnesses with disjointed and impossible progression of symptoms, and him not affected? Christmas! Someone out there loves him. Granted, he might not be able to help anyone get better and that's lame, but answers. Answers are something he is particularly prepared to provide. House is also curious if there's some psychosomatic effect at work here that might let him influence people. He goes on audio for this, and someone sounds almost gleeful.]

Hello, sick people! Dr. House here. I am a board certified medical professional and tenured professor of diagnostics at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in Princeton, New Jersey. I have a double specialty infectious disease and nephrology and head the only Department of Diagnostic Medicine in the world in my universe.

All that said... tell me what ails you, Snowhell. Details required. Pics if you need them. Allow me to diagnose you. This service is free of charge for today only! Or however long this whole thing lasts. I'll even prescribe you meds if they're relevant to your condition. Step right up, then! Don't be shy.

It should go without saying, but I am limited to identification and diagnosis of Earth-based diseases. So if you've got a different name in your universe for the measels, I'm still calling them the measels.

((OOC: While House is an ace diagnostician, I am very much not. It would be helpful for me if you could indicate the disease or diseases your character is suffering from for the event or indicate that the constellation of symptoms was pulled at random/non-Earth-based.))

Characters: Harley Quinn, The Joker, Magenta^2, Squalo
Location: 278 (will edit if needed)
Date: Day 308 evening/post lockdown (will edit if needed)
Summary: Clowns meet Italians? Squalo totally accidentally runs into Harley's group and discovers they claimed his severed head. Shenanigans?
Warnings: Bunch of murderers probably not murdering but I expect they will at least talk about it.

( Read more... )