DECEMBER MINGLE

[etrayamods]

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: December 21st - Early January
WHERE: Etraya
WHAT: Newcomers, a surprise gift from Tatianna, and a visitor!
NOTES\WARNINGS:

⏵ arrival ⏴ Welcome to Etraya! Arrival goes as expected - characters awaken on hospital beds and are offered an explanation of their situation: that they have arrived in the city of Etraya, and they are their world's only hope. They are welcome to wander the hospital if they would like to - the upper floors are mostly empty, full of pristine hallways and numerous rooms filled with supplies, cots, and things one would expect from a relatively average 21st-century hospital. The lobby is filled to the brim with tables of freshly baked goods. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" banners are taped to the walls, and several other typical birthday decorations can be found in this area. A few of the baked goods tables are lined with massive cakes covered in unlit candles, just waiting for someone to grab a lighter and sing off-key. Is it anyone's birthday? Who knows! The companion bots seem to believe it's every new arrival's birthday and will greet them as such - with friendly waves and cheers as they make their way to the lobby. A coat rack is situated by the doors leading out of the hospital, covered in warm clothing that fits the new arrivals just right - whether it's to their preferred style or not is something else entirely. Some of them appear normal enough. Others? Well. They can't all be perfect, now can they? Outside the windows, the grass is covered in a couple of inches of loosely packed snow. We hope you enjoy your stay. ⏵ an unexpected gift ⏴ Out by the hospital stands a tall, decorated tree covered in candles and golden pinecones with a handsome, red velveteen tree skirt. In front of it are a few oversized wrapped gifts for show- and atop one of those sits a familiar woman. Or unfamiliar, if this is your first time. It's Tatianna in a slutty Santa outfit with a big ol’ burlap sack. “Hey, I got something for you,” she says, digging into the bag and rummaging for a moment. She produces a painted egg and holds it aloft. “It’s your Winter Solstice Egg! This is the egg holiday, right? Wait, shit. I’m mixing them up, aren’t I? ...Well. It’s a little late to change it. Here you go!” How one treats their egg is fully up to themselves. They can choose to ignore it entirely, or destroy it and leave the yolk and innards to rot on the ground. They can hand it over to someone else or care for it as if it were something precious. No one will prevent them from doing whatever they please with it! ⏵ naughty or nice ⏴However, how they treat the egg will define how the egg treats them in return. Those who keep the egg and tend to it will get the benefit of being able to watch it hatch seven days after they are handed the egg. Eggs that are treated with attention and love may yield a loyal companion, or a weapon of choice that always returns to its owner, while neglected eggs may yield a curious, cursed trinket or an animal who treats its new owner very much the same way its owner had treated it before it was born. Please submit an egg request below for what items you would like your character's eggs to hatch into! Please note that these cannot be things that would be applicable in the game. Those whose eggs are destroyed or forgotten will simply get the gift of... nothing! ⏵ free your spirit ⏴ With the winter chill gripping the air, a mysterious figure makes their presence known in Etraya - a towering, horned creature dragging a massive sack behind them. 𝓐 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖇𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖙 𝖔𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝓴 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓. Regardless of a character's strengths or weaknesses, they will find that when Krampus raises his massive sack over their head, they are powerless to stop him from catching them. Those capable of great magical feats or other supernatural abilities will sense something... otherworldly about Krampus, but will not be able to place the source of that sensation. Once within Krampus' sack, they are welcome to fight, but escape is impossible. It will feel as if Krampus is dragging them over every rock possible, dragging the sack in through the rivers to the point it soaks through and drenches them - potentially almost drowning them. When the sack opens, they will find themselves in an impossibly dark space. Around them are others who have also been captured and dragged here by Krampus, trapped in small cages hanging from a massive, wiry tree. Krampus will return often, banging clawed hands and birch rods on the walls of the cages and knocking them into one another. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘. The whisper resonates through the darkened area, regardless of Krampus' presence. Confess your secrets, and be freed. Otherwise? You'd better hope someone figures out where Krampus has set up base; those who refuse to confess may find themselves stuck here forever. ⏵ NOTES ⏴ Krampus' base is under Etraya! Deep within the catacombs, he has set up multiple cages to capture those who inhabit Etraya to punish them for their naughty habits. Fighting him is possible! Defeating him by means of combat is not, however, possible. Think of it like fighting a god: Krampus creates the rules in the space around him, including who can use what ability. For all questions relating to this log, please refer to the mod queries comment. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ. ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

[cactusy]

Something big, or something really personal and private. Cool. I'm not so good at either of those things, either.

[ She pauses. ]

I don't know what's real and what isn't. Probably never will again.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ That stills him. Carver cocks his head, doglike. Squinting at her in the dark, taking another look at the way she holds herself. Her stillness. ]

What?

[cactusy]

I don't know if this is real.

[ No shift in tone. No anger, no fear. It's said as a matter-of-fact statement. ]

I thought I did, I thought I finally had a handle on it, but then all this magical save-the-whole-universe-from-destruction crap happened. Seems pretty fake to me, even though I don't get what the angle is.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver shifts, leaning back against the cage. Watching her as much as he can in the dark, this woman who speaks almost monotone, who's killed men in their beds or close enough. All for a greater purpose, if her talk of hunting terrorists is true. But the longer that Carver fought through the Valley of Death, and the more contracts Pope had them take from the CIA and other interested parties, the more he realized those lines were relative. In the end, the only thing that mattered was the brother or the sister at his side. Everyone else can burn. He walks with their ghosts now.

And sometimes, every once and a while, he hears their voices.

His fingers twitch. ]

I'm pretty sure we're in Hell, [ he says after a while. ] My world's not worth saving, anyway.

[cactusy]

Why Hell?

[She asks, her brow creasing. ]

You religious?

[fortitudosalutis]

Four tours in the Valley of Death, [ he replies softly. If this woman was a soldier from home, from his wars, then she'll know the place and probably some of the stories. If she's not, then the name will say all that needs to be said. ] Korengal. We saw God in the bones out there.

[ On the red of the killing fields. ]

Why wouldn't we be in Hell? That's where the murderers go.

[cactusy]

Iraq for me. Among other places.

[ Absolutely none of these things are secret or personal, but, well. Like she said, she's not good at that. ]

What branch?

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Iraq. He rests his head against the bars, wondering if they ever crossed paths. And then he wonders why that feels like a comfort. He has nightmares about Korengal even all these years later, even though that was the place that made him what he was. It showed him the truth of things just as much as the fires did later. ]

Army. Then private. You?

[cactusy]

Marines, then ISA, then private. I'd ask if you know what A-R-M-Y stands for, but you've probably heard all the jokes.

[fortitudosalutis]

Mhmm. I'll hold off on the crayon-eater jokes, then.

[ His smile is thin in the dark. A fucking Marine - just his luck. But then she went private. Maybe even a merc like him. What are the odds? ]

You a bagman?

[cactusy]

No, I went private in the other way. Freelance crime crimefighter.

[ Aaaaaanother pause. ]

Mostly. I did some time as a wheelman for a really incompetent crew of thieves.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Well then. His eyebrows shoot up. He can't say that's a common answer, even in their line of work. ]

There money in that? The crimefighting.

[cactusy]

That depended on whether or not the billionaire boss had access to his funds. So... not necessarily.

[ She doesn't sound bothered by that fact, though. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver tilts his head. ]

Then why do it?

[ To clear her conscious? He doesn't understand. ]

[cactusy]

Because helping people is the right thing to do.

[ She says it dispassionately, like she's reciting something she's learned by rote - but she does sound serious, not sarcastic or mocking. ]

Because individual lives are important. Stuff like that.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ It has the air of something memorized, a line passed on down to her from her commander - whoever that happens to be. Carver's familiar with that game. He had his oath when he joined the Army. There were other, deeper oaths after. But in between, he sold his skills to the open market and in that way, his word meant very little. Even so, he memorized the script. He said his lines on cue.

This sounds different, though. A line, yes, as most of them are. But one she believes.

He narrows his eyes. ]

People are evil, selfish things. You know that. You've seen it.

SIGH I hate phonetagging

[cactusy]

Yeah. A lot of people suck.

[ She squints bitterly in the direction that Krampus had walked off in: case in point. ]

Doesn't mean I have to add to it.

[ A beat. ]

And it's your turn now. Worst job, worst hookup, worst childhood haircut. Or the worst person you ever met, if you wanna stick to theme.

no worries!

[fortitudosalutis]

[ It's too flippant a response for the things he means, the truth underneath the words. But she moves on before he can push back on it, note that ultimately it doesn't matter what a single person does; the world's fucked and people as a whole are evil, so why bother with them? Why waste the energy with that bullshit? Protect your own and hold to your creed, that's the only thing that matters.

Then she moves on, and Carver adjusts. He grinds his forehead against the bars, exhaling slow. Sometimes, he gets so goddamn twitchy he just can't hold still. The commander always hated that. ]

We really doing twenty questions?

[cactusy]

[ Shaw shrugs. ]

Why, you got a better idea?

[fortitudosalutis]

[ He does not. Unfortunately. Carver scrubs a tired hand through his hair, thinking. This all seems so goddamn high school, he's not sure what to make of it. But if they can't get out of the cages, either they'll die of dehydration or something worse will happen. He's not a big fan of either solution. ]

Worst job was running guns out of Siberia. Lost three guys and I still can't feel the tips of my ears.

[ Job, she said, and so he only names the things he was paid for. There were worse after the fall, and the fires. There were uglier wars. ]

Worst hookup? Some Marine out of Leatherneck. We fucked in the bathroom of some shithole bar, [ he says, blandly. ] I was drunk off my ass. My hair looked great when I was a kid. And the worst person I ever met was the CIA officer who trained me how to do interrogations. And not a one of these has opened the goddamn cage up, so I'm just gonna spitball here and say none of them were personal enough.

[cactusy]

Your worst hookup was a Marine?

[ Shaw asks, faintly scandalized. Way to let down the brotherhood, anonymous jarhead.

But he's right: none of these are doing anything. And while Shaw has secrets that she'll keep to herself no matter the situation - the kinds of secrets that Decima had spent nearly a year trying and failing to pry out of her - she also has the other, more mundane kind. The kind that she simply doesn't want to talk about.

This sucks. ]

Pretty much everyone I know is either dead or gone.

[ Her voice is dull, full of tired resignation. ]

Except a couple of them are okay here, because they're from the past.

[fortitudosalutis]

Waste of the condoms, [ he agrees blandly. Goddamn Marines. But then, back then he'd been a drunken mess out of the field. Shaw and Pope eventually read him the riot act and told him they wouldn't take him on jobs anymore unless he straightened his shit out. Then the world ended, and there was no time for drunken nonsense with idiot Marines.

He rests his head against the bars, watching the other woman. Wondering what the fuck he's supposed to do with this moment. The cage remains stubbornly closed and he doesn't care to die of dehydration down here.

Then she continues. She shares a truth. ]

They know you? [ he asks, a touch softer. ]

[cactusy]

Yeah. They're not from that far back, just a couple years.

[It doesn't bother her, really. Sure, it's kind of annoying that they're so in the dark and that they don't have the same context for things that she does, and she has the strong sense that they're confused by and wary of her; that they think she's nuts. But they're still Reese and Finch, and their presence is bolstering.]

[fortitudosalutis]

They know you can't tell if this is real or not?

[ It's a blunt question, softly asked. It seems relevant. Sometimes, Carver hears voices in the corners. Sometimes he sees his ghosts there, following in his wake. He's never told a soul that. ]

[cactusy]

No. They would if they were from my time, but--

[She shakes her head.]

It's better this way. There's a lot that it's a pain in the ass for them not to know, but the really bad stuff - I'm fine with keeping that to myself.