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Unread postPosted: Sun Sep 29, 2013 7:26 pm
by AlwaysAPrice

Episode One: Splashdown (Part One)

Alice was afraid to smile and she didn't know why.

Autumn had arrived just on schedule, its first day shaded by clouds that brought a warm, gentle rain. Summer rain, a day late, marked by fat beads of water that splashed rather than pelted, that washed down the reinforced glass of the windows in streams rather than trickles. Alice could hear the difference, knew from the shifting light in the room that the clouds didn't fill the sky, and it almost made her smile to imagine this bright, rainy day she could not see. No matter how far her pale blue eyes strained towards their corners, the padded leather strap across her forehead wouldn't let her find the window.

She wanted to smile at the thought, but she knew she shouldn't. They'd want to know why she smiled and she couldn't tell them. She wanted to tell them, but she couldn't, because she couldn't remember the last time she felt the rain or saw the clouds. Not the last time, not the first time nor any of the times in between. Yet the soft thup-thup-thup on the windowpane was enough to remind her of the sensation of sun-warmed raindrops bursting against her skin, and she knew, knew that this was only one of thousands of rains she'd felt. The restraint around her wrist tightened as a thick needle pushed into her forearm.

She was trying her best to help them, to help them help her, she didn't want to disappoint them again. They were all trying so hard to make her whole again, to put her back together like a puzzle, but she kept giving them these strange pieces with wrong edges that didn't fit. If she could just keep this one to herself, they wouldn't have to stop the treatment to explore it. That was what scared her, she realized, that she would give them a reason to leave the sickness in her another day. A gentle hand brushed sweat-damp hair out of her face.

"Alice. Why are you smiling?"

A wretched sob burst from her throat and she felt the rain again, this time burning stinging tracks down her cheeks.

((And away we go. First thing I need from all participants is your independent introduction posts - as described in the OOC Thread, a short scene excerpted from your character's day-to-day life. This can be a glimpse of their home life, work life, social life, whatever you'd like to use to show us the character in their natural element.

Wednesday, October 2nd will be the cut-off date to have both your profile posted in the OOC thread and your intro post up in this one, and that's when I'll pick things up from your introductions and flip the switch from "stories" to "RPs".))

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Sun Sep 29, 2013 10:12 pm
by Croceum
(( <As translated from Serbian> ))

"<I was speaking to your friend Jamie's mother the other day, did you know she started over at Pinewood Elementary yesterday?>"

"<Yes, mama.>"

"<Maybe they have a temporary position. A substitute?>"

"<I need a teaching certificate for that, mama. I looked into it when you brought up Tomas last week.>"

The older woman leaned backward, head peeking around the door to Sara's bedroom as she found herself subjected to a sternly appraising look. After a squirming moment under that penetrating gaze, the younger woman started to fidget uncomfortably. Whatever her mother had discerned from it seemed to appease her as she stepped away from the laundry she was folding and came to stroke her forehead gently with the back of her fingers.

"<I know you are trying, love. I just worry that you are squandering your talents.>"

Opening her mouth to offer some sort of response, the dark-haired girl found any sort of assurance or denial dying in her throat. It was already 3pm on a Thursday and all she had to show for her day were three empty mugs of tea, and a half-written review on her blog for 'Ernest Scared Stupid' as it played quietly on the tv across the room from her. The thought made her want to do nothing more than bury her face in her hands and sob.

But that would just upset her mother further, which would result in even more well intentioned suggestions stressing her out more. So Sara settled for a weak smile and a half-truth.

"<The editor said I would hear back from them this week.>"

That seemed to do the trick. Or maybe they were both just mutually sick of the subject, as the prodding subsisted and her mother returned to chores. There had been so many dead end interviews that she could hardly recall if she had told her mother that they had already unofficially rejected her for being 'too qualified' for the position. Regardless, the conversation was blessedly finished for the moment. Unfortunately that meant the blog demanded attention once more. Sucking in a deep breath, the young woman leaned forward and typed away.

Up to the part where Ernest (spoiler alert!) confuses the troll's weakness for milk with miak! Seriously, talk about the weakest attempt at a comical misunderstanding! Comment below if any of you actually knew what miak is before you ran off to Google it, the first person to answer correctly will get a shout-out in next week's review of the remake of Total Recall!

None of the enthusiasm translated into the writer, who pressed back against her chair like a boneless lump. Looking up at the ceiling, the young woman quietly wished upon the false constellations she had glued up there years before.

"Let something go my way soon, God."

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Wed Oct 02, 2013 12:28 am
by Visavis
It was the end of another week at the call center.

Double-checking her account balance on her phone next to the bills that were expected, Samantha proceeded to pay off what she could, while doing mental math to determine what she could put off for a bit longer, and what she would have left over. All this was done while she ambled toward the office's exit. Most of her paycheck already gone, with just enough left to eat for the coming week.

Of course, there was always the option of drawing from that other bank account, but that seemed like an unnecessary risk.

As she neared the exit, Sam slipped her phone back into her pocket. Given the sensitivity of some of the customer information, they were not supposed to have their cellphones with them, for fear that they could easily copy and distribute the information. The boss could see everyone entering and exiting the place.

"Ms. Bove."

'The fuck is--fucking--really?' Samantha turned to face her superior, who sat at his desk with the door to his office open.

"I can see your tattoos."

Dealing with a variety of customers ranging from ignorant to furious for several hours often left Samantha feeling worn. The boss pointing out her violation of the dress code at the end of the shift felt like the mental equivalent of having a hair yanked from her head. Her expression must have shown it, from the way the boss was looking at her.

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again," she lied.

'Fucking customers never even see us anyway.'

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Wed Oct 02, 2013 12:54 am
by Shinigori V2
“Those things'll kill ya.”

Rachel leaned with her back and one foot against a wall, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie. While the days were still warm, the nights had become just chilly enough to warrant something beyond shorts and a teeshirt. Clocking in at a mere 5'3 she was dwarfed by the figure next to her, though between her making faces at passers by and the...creative use of mesh in his outfit, they both got plenty of looks.

“Yeah, hon.” He said blowing a long stream of smoke out of his mouth. “You only tell me every damn day. You ain't high enough to get the second hand anyway, girl.”

“One of these days you're gonna push me and I'm gonna punch you right in the lack.” She said, turning away. “I'm freezin' my ass off, what're we doin' outside for?”

Her companion shifted his weight, blowing another gout of smoke. “Picking up guys. You'll understand when you're older, sweetie. But go inside if you wanna, wouldn't want the one pair of balls between us to freeze off.” He recoiled from a sharp pain in his side. “It's like an angry bee!”

Rachel swung her fist again. “I've got yer angry bee right here! C'mon, let's go inside already. How's cancer sticks s'posed t' make you more attractive, anyways?”

Another shift, accompanied by a smoke ring this time. “Oh, girl, it ain't about the cigarettes. It's about the innuendo.” he said, slowly taking another puff. “You wouldn't believe how many free drinks I've already got waiting for me in there just from making it look like I want it.”


He made a disgusted face. “Have you SEEN the guys in there? There's less bears in Jellystone. No, I'm just working to pay my tab.”

“Yeah, yeah yeah.” Rachel huffed, rolling her eyes. “Y'should really think about puttin' less o' them fags in yer mouth anyway. And maybe quit smokin', too.”

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Wed Oct 02, 2013 4:10 am
by Amarlex
"It happened again, you know. Just last week."

"Jesus, Daniel, you can't just keep ignoring it. What if you have brain damage or something?"

Daniel Cruz stopped walking, taking a moment to shuffle off of the sidewalk and under an awning to avoid the freezing-cold rain. He adjusted his coat and gave his friend a skeptical look. "It's been happening since I was a kid. If it was brain damage or a disease or something, don't you think it would've gotten worse?"

"Shit, I don't know, Daniel, I'm not a goddamn neuroscientist. But it's scary as shit, everyone thinks you're having a stroke or something." Daniel's buddy sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Remember the time it happened in the middle of a presentation? When we were undergrads. Professor almost called a fucking ambulance for you, man."

"Yeah- yeah, I remember, Steve, I was there. You don't have to bring it up every time- shit." Daniel fell silent for a moment as a gust of wind spattered the two of them with rainwater, whipping his hair around his face. After the wind had died down, he leaned in and lowered his voice. "Look. If it makes you feel better, I'm gonna talk to someone about it. They're not gonna find anything, just like they always have. But you can fuckin' come along if you like, pace around all worried in the waiting room or hold my goddamn hand before the spinal tap."

Steve looked hopeful for a moment, but his face fell into a derisive smirk when Daniel finished his spiel. He gave Daniel's shoulder a light shove, prompting some chuckling from the both of them. "Fuck you, man. Whatever, if you fall over and have a seizure I'm never gonna stop sayin' 'I told you so'."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Not gonna happen, though. That'd be interesting; interesting shit doesn't happen to me. I just talk about it in front of a bunch of undergrads."

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Wed Oct 02, 2013 1:31 pm
by Idran1701
Inside the walls of the Capitol Hill branch of the Multnomah County Library, James Holloway wrap up his duties for the day. Seven thirty on a Thursday night, and the library's closed up, the other librarians having already left. Scanning returns, checking the stacks, making sure everything is in proper order for tomorrow, and of course noting and reshelving books, setting one aside for himself. It's always a pleasant quiet once everyone's gone, when he can just enjoy the library and appreciate everything in it. And once things are done, he takes the book and it's off for home. Looks like pre-colonial South American history tonight; the joys of just picking from the reshelvings is he never knows what he'll end up with. James' dream job, this; he could never ask for anything better.

There's a slight chill in the air as he heads back to his car, setting his bag in the passenger seat before pulling away, heading for the deli on his way home as he does every night. Traffic's lighter in the evenings here, the drive home always more relaxing than the drive to work. As usual, he takes a longer route through the city. Never exactly the same route, always a bit different, just to make things a bit more interesting.

Back and forth with the cashier and a couple of the regulars, exchanging a few pleasantries, a little small talk. Recent events, the weather, the usual small talk. Quiet chatter about plans for the weekend, an invitation to an open-air concert; he'll try to be there, but he can't be sure he'll make it. So on and so forth. His order's ready, and so he heads off, wishing them well.

Each night tends to end the same way in his routine. Some might call it repetitive, but he thinks of it as something to look forward to. There's nothing wrong with a good routine once you settle in it, it helps you know what to expect. And the little differences here and there, the minor surprises, those are more than enough to keep things interesting.

Glancing around, he takes in the sights on the last leg of his trip home, flipping the radio on for the last leg. A jogger here, a couple walking their dog there. A store owner closing up her own place for the day, another working on a new piece of window art for the next few days. It's only a few minutes more before he finally pulls into the garage and heads up the stairs to his apartment. A nod and a smile here and there to the other residents as he hums lightly to himself, finally reaching his door.

Inside, he settles in, heading to the computer to poke about the internet a bit. Checking email, checking up on the news. He's never really done much more online, it's never really felt as comfortable to him. Too impersonal, too anonymous. And once he wraps up, he flips on his Sirius box and settles in to read, wiling the time away in yet another new field.

Not as easy a read as some he's had, he sets it aside after just a couple hours, his mind already weary and needing a break from the heavy material. He flips on the television, flipping about before settling on something light and breezy, something that can let his mind decompress. He watches out the window to the street below as he relaxes, watching the various pedestrians out and about that night, and as always wondering what their stories might be, what they're up to this night. Where they might be headed, what they're doing with themselves. Curiosity never fails to nag at him, no matter what the topic.

Soon enough, as the hours tick by, fatigue finally begins to settle in on James' mind. He flips off the television, cleans up the place a bit. Taking his book, he heads in to bed for a bit more reading, before finally it's off to sleep and the next day. Tomorrow to hold the same for him, the day after, the day after that. He can't wait to see what they bring.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:24 pm
by AlwaysAPrice
Every day, Virgil comes home to an empty house.

The pictures hanging in the hall after the foyer don't slow him down the way they used to. His eyes still dart to the ones in which the woman is alone, but he doesn't spare a glance towards any of the moments she shares with the other man, the one that looks like him a decade younger, smiling in ignorant contentment. In ten years he hasn't been able to bring himself to box up these memories, no matter how increasingly uncomfortable his refusal to move on has made the few friends who still force themselves to visit, but at least he doesn't think of them as his memories anymore. He's not the man in those pictures anymore.

He drops his rumpled jacket and laptop bag onto an armchair as he wends his way through the living room, loosening his tie with his other hand. It's the only use that chair gets anymore, given how infrequently guests are entertained here. The living room overall looks more like an upscale furniture showroom than any place lived in, thanks primarily to the attention to detail the weekly maid lavishes on the room just to pass the back half of her shift after she tends to the few areas of the house Virgil actually uses. Though he was rarely home when Rosa was working to thank her for it, he appreciated the attention paid to the room where the urn and burial flag resided.

In the den that serves as his home office, he pours himself two fingers of Scotch at the bar cabinet along one wall, and carries the glass with him to his desk. He's not feeling driven to drink, not out to drown a sorrow or ease any particular pain, it's just a routine he keeps with almost superstitious reliability. He has papers to review, the first batch of the semester, a simple essay assignment designed to assess what beliefs and biases his instruction will be attempting to surmount this year. The glass of whisky is there for the moments when he'll need the comforting burn of the alcohol to distract him from the most exceptionally ill-conceived elucidations his students have to offer.

Virgil fishes a thumbdrive out of his pocket and slots it into his keyboard's USB port as his computer spins up out of hibernation. Two paragraphs into the first assignment, he stops to reread something, sighs, then pulls off his wireframe glasses and tosses them onto the desk. "...I'm going to need the bottle."

He stands, and that's when he hears church bells chime in his living room. He goes stock still, immediately troubled. It's been years since his phone made that sound. He almost didn't bother to set the special ringtone when he upgraded to a new model in April. He'd hoped they were done with him, but he'd set it nevertheless because he knew they never would be.

After retrieving the phone from his jacket, he returns to his desk to open the message. As he expected, a file is attached. A looping animation of a candle-flame fluttering in the wind. He transfers the image wirelessly to his desktop and opens a drawer to pull out a sheet of thin tracing paper. He makes a few folds in it to guide his strokes, and sketches out an intricate pattern of curves from memory, using the creases he's made as references. When he's finished, he checks his phone for the timestamp of the message. At either end of each of the lines he's drawn, he then scrawls a symbol.

Virgil opens the file with an image editing program, then uses a piece of tape to affix his drawing to the monitor. He resizes the image to match the borders of an area defined by his first folds, then starts to advance the animation, frame by frame. Every few, the flickering flame's edge lines up perfectly with one of the lines drawn on his paper overlay. Every time it does, he checks the frame number and jots a letter down on another sheet of paper.

Samantha Bove BC
Rachel Cooke VA
Daniel Cruz MT
James Holloway OR
Alice Sullivan CA
Sara Vincayd PA

Love, M

His eyes go increasingly, incredulously wide as the frame counter continues to climb, moving through the flame's carefully spliced-together flickers at high speed once he's fallen into the rhythm of decoding. After the second name, he doesn't exhale until he's reached the sign-off. "Six. SIX?" he blurts, in the vague direction of his phone. He doesn't bother to encode a message to actually request confirmation, as that would be a waste of the next cipher. Unprecedented as the number might be, M was never wrong.

Virgil left his desk and moved to the bookshelves that covered the back wall of the den. His fingers ran along the leather spines of the old classics he kept here, a fond, familiar touch, almost as if he were apologizing to them for the deception they were a necessary part of. He found the two he sought on different shelves, exchanged Alighieri with Melville, and the subtle change in the weights of both shelves completed a precise pressure circuit. He felt the floorboards gently rumble under his feet.

Virgil pocketed the list of names, tore the paper off his monitor and set it on fire with a lighter he found in one of his desk drawers. While the paper rapidly disintegrated in the trash can next to the desk, he pocketed the lighter, figuring this would be as good a time as any to start smoking again. He headed to the kitchen, down into the basement, and found the one door the maid's key wouldn't open.

((Welcome to Seers! You're all dead.))
((Check your character's link above for an idea of the circumstances!))

((Virgil's intro (and page manips) ran longer than I planned, I'll set the scene for your first bout of CI in my next post, up in an hour or two Friday. THX 4 PATIENCE))

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Fri Oct 04, 2013 9:47 pm
by AlwaysAPrice
As Virgil's investigation would reveal, five of the names on his list belonged to people who had been killed, mostly in what were dismissed as freak accidents, over the course of the few days before he was sent after them.

Sara Vincayd of Philadelphia had been the first. As she issued a plea to Heaven, a telephone company truck crashed into a utility pole outside with such force that it snapped at the base and toppled onto the nearby apartments. Its upper end smashed through the constellation-decorated ceiling of Sara's bedroom directly above her. Her death was not instantaneous, but the shock of the extensive trauma was enough to mask most of the pain as she slipped away just as her mother opened the door. The last thing she saw was a blinding blue-white light.

The swiftest death was Samantha Bove's. Done with another day of call center drudgery, she stepped outside just as an unwashed man in a tattered and stained wool overcoat, that doubled as his blanket most nights, lunged for the wheel of the bus he'd been quietly riding from end to end of its route for three days. The driver shoved the man away and tried to regain control, but disoriented from the struggle with his disturbed passenger, he floored the gas instead of the brake, jumped the curb and slammed into Samantha's workplace, crushing her against the wall two steps out of the door.

Rachel Cooke may have suffered the most, as she died slowly and died betrayed. The fire department investigators initially attributed the fire, that claimed over five dozen lives besides Rachel's, to faulty wiring and a sprinkler system that had been bribed past inspection. When the fire broke out, Rachel had lost track of her androgynous friend. She finally spotted him slipping out a side entrance and yelled out to him as she tried to reach him through the currents of the panicking crowd. He looked at her...then ran. When she did make it to the door, it wouldn't open because it was chained from the outside. It was a combination of the press of humanity, cut off from other exits by the flames, and the smoke that claimed her. If she burned, at least she didn't feel it.

Missoula's Daniel Cruz experienced the most ironic death of the five. His concern over his brain functions had led to another battery of tests, as likely to turn up nothing of use as anything else to date. A mix-up at the hospital saw Daniel wheeled in for an MRI on the wrong kind of gurney, one with a metal frame. The machine's powerful magnetic field pulled the stretcher with such force that Daniel was hurled partially into the tube and nearly beheaded by a piece of the frame.

Without question the most merciful death was James Holloway's. He merely went to sleep looking forward to another day, and did not awake the next morning. His death, it seemed, was an unfortunate after-effect of the suicide-by-hibachi of a despondent neighbor. While the man had done a good job of sealing off the room he intended to die in, cracks in the walls between his and James' apartments created a channel for the charcoal fumes to spread through. If the battery in his carbon monoxide detector had been installed properly, he might have had a chance.

Death, it seemed, did not agree with any of them.

One by one, their senses rushed back, magnified, exploding with the awareness, first, of their own hearts pounding in their chests and their lungs filling with a gasp of air, salty sea air with an acrid tinge of iron. Crashing waves seemed at first to roar in their ears, then the sound subsided to a distant, constant splashing. Further away, the cries of gulls were rapidly receding.

They all felt cold corrugated steel against their backs and, while their feet were on a floor of the same material, the five's first movements would cause them to realize they were suspended rather than standing. Their wrists were bound above their heads by metal shackles, the chains bolted to the wall. Those who'd suffered violent deaths were in no pain -- as far as any of the five could feel, their bodies were whole and undamaged.

The only sense that seemed not to return was their sight, but that was only because wherever they were was entirely lightless. Finally, it dawned on all of them that they were not alone, for each of them could hear the breathing of the four others, none of them more than a dozen feet away from any other.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Sat Oct 05, 2013 1:25 am
by Idran1701
Feeling the tang of the air as he breathes in, James snaps awake, peering about in confusion as he tries to orient himself and figure out what's going on. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep, but now...what? Where is he? Was he kidnapped? Who would kidnap him of all people?

Eyes stinging, he winces, doing his best to blink away the salt. It's in trying to wipe them clear that he notices the bindings holding him still. He tugs at them, testing their strength as he does his best to place himself. Neither go anywhere, of course; he's still just as lost and confused as he was when he woke up, and from the sounds of the chains, he can tell that he's not going to get himself out anytime soon.

As he tries to decide whether he should try and cry out, or if he'd merely be alerting whoever it is out there that he's awake, he catches sound of the others breathing in the dark. At first, this simply makes him more nervous, but if they were going to hurt him, they'd already have done it by now. Still, he doesn't especially think it wise to cry out just yet (and his throat's too rough from the air right now to do too much screaming anyway).

Readying himself for some kind of strike, he continues to wince against the sea air as he speaks up, his voice scratchy and low. "Who's out there? I can hear you breathing, are you awake?"

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Sat Oct 05, 2013 11:54 pm
by Croceum
As sensation returned with the memory of her brutal death still fresh in her mind, Sara let out a wrenching sob now that her breath had not been cruelly stolen from her. Shuddering, the young woman could feel none of the pain that she could have sworn had been there mere moments earlier, but the horrifying realism of the dream kept salty tears coursing down her cheeks. Yet it was hardly her tears that she was smelling.

An attempt to move availed her nothing aside from informing her that something had bound her hands. It proved to be too much as she barely registered the sounds of others breathing about her in the darkness as she began to hyperventilate. Only the sound of another person close by prevented her from completely losing control.

In a quavering voice, she called back, "H-hello? Who are you? Where are... where are we? What's happening?"

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Sun Oct 06, 2013 4:38 pm
by Shinigori V2
With a few shallow coughs expelling what had been smoke and ash settled in her lungs, Rachel awoke. She hung quietly for a moment, not really processing what had happened.

And then it came back to her. And she began to scream at the top of her lungs.


Fire! Fire! Now that just made her scream louder.


And the wave of people crushing her tiny frame against the surprisingly strong bolt that had been used to keep the door shut!


And that big, overly flamboyant, stereotypically gay asshole! That son of a bitch didn't even try and help!

"AAAAHHHHHHHHH'M gonna punch a queer motherfucker OUT!"

Okay she felt better now.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Sun Oct 06, 2013 6:54 pm
by Visavis
'Fuck, what is--'


Samantha's wits came back to her shortly after her senses did. Neither liked what they found.

"Let me go, you sonnuva bitch! I'll kill you!" she cried hoarsely at nobody in particular.

For a moment, she tried uselessly struggling against her constraints. When that failed to produce any results, she started crying and repeated in a weak voice, "Let. Me. Go!"

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Sun Oct 06, 2013 10:13 pm
by Idran1701
"Who all's there? many of us are there here? any of you remember how we got here, or who took us?" Memories still a blur, James makes his best effort not to panic as more and more voices add to the din, all obviously as nervous as he is. Everything seems to spin for a bit even despite the darkness, the lack of sensation finally getting to him, but at least he doesn't yet feel nauseous; small favors.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Mon Oct 07, 2013 12:36 am
by Amarlex
Daniel, meanwhile, has been standing in miserable silence. He speaks up, finally, to answer James' question.


How helpful of him. He sighs and rattles his chains a bit, acting surprisingly resigned about this. "So, hello, I'm Daniel. Did any of you die before waking up here?"

He looks around the lightless area, sniffing at the air and wrinkling his nose at the sharp scent of saltwater. Without waiting for an answer to his first question, he moves on. "...Are we in a shipping container?"

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Mon Oct 07, 2013 11:47 pm
by Visavis
"Oh god, a shipping container? They're going to kill us!" Samantha is not even trying to hide her panic. It seems she has her own ideas about what is going on, as well. "Let me go. Someone let me go. I didn't do anything, that was all Nate's fault! I didn't do anything!"

She struggles against the restraints again, with as much success as before.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Mon Oct 07, 2013 11:55 pm
by Shinigori V2
"They ain't gonna kill us if I kill'em first!" Rachel says, struggling against her chains. "I'ma punch'em all in th' COCKS."

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 12:03 am
by Croceum
The young woman took a sharp breath at the loud and long scream nearby about punching someone in the face. Doing her best to control the panic threatening to take control at any moment, she tried to focus on the two male voices that seemed to have some degree of calm. At least until the mysterious 'Daniel' asked about their deaths.

"Please tell me this is a nightmare! I couldn't have died! It... it was just a horrible dream! This is too... please tell me this is too..."

Breaking off to take several short, shallow breaths as Samantha's cries nearly sent her into a mindless fear, she gathered herself and tentatively offered, "I'm... I'm Sara. And... this isn't... this can't be..."

The word that she seemed incapable of saying was forefront in her mind: Hell.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 12:29 am
by Shinigori V2
"RIGHT IN THE COCKS!" Rachel reemphasizes.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 2:18 am
by Idran1701

He nearly says 'calm down', but this seems to be a situation in which panic is almost the proper reaction. And of course he'd be quite hypocritical for it.

"...Okay...what are you all talking about, 'dead'? The last thing I remember was falling asleep...oh, I didn't...right. I'm...I'm James., can...can someone tell me what you're talking about, 'dead'?"

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 9:40 am
by Amarlex
"Well, I don't know about anyone else here - aside from Sara, I guess - but before I woke up here I had a sheet of metal sticking in my neck. I thought I died, but, well, clearly..." He shrugs, chains giving another rattle. "Unless we're all in hell, or something! I must've missed the 'shipping container' chapter in Inferno."

Daniel laughs at his own joke, but quickly trails off into a concerned sigh. "Ha ha! Ha, ah... Hmm. I guess it'd be too much to ask if any of you had a lockpick or something?"

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 3:10 pm
by AlwaysAPrice

In the spaces between their whimpers, shouts, screams, and questions, the sound of footsteps somewhere outside their prison reached their ears. One person, walking with slow, evenly paced steps that approached from what seemed to the women to be behind them and to their right, in front and to the left from the perspective of the men. As the steps traversed the length of the container, the walker rapped some sturdy object against the wall that Rachel, Sara, and Samantha were chained to, accompanying the course of the footsteps.

Once, twice, three times he knocked.

((Something I forgot to highlight in writing the wake-up post, I'll just note it here now that Daniel's kind of raised the question of what you guys have on you:

James is still wearing whatever he went to sleep in.
For Sara, Samantha, Rachel, and Daniel, decide what your character's families would have chosen as the method of disposal:
If the character was due for cremation, they are naked unless the family specifically requested they be clothed.
If the character was due for burial, they are dressed in whatever clothes their survivors would choose to have them buried in. In Daniel's case, a turtleneck would have been mandatory for an open casket.
Check with me via PM or IM if you want to have one or two small items family members might have tucked in a pocket.))

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 9:03 pm
by Croceum
"This is -NOT- funny!" Sara snaps out a little harsher than she intended at Daniel's flippant reference to Hell, before blanching at the volume. Pausing for fear of drawing unwanted attention in the unknown darkness, her breath speeds up as the sound of footsteps register. The many horror movies she had seen over the years dominates her thoughts as something solid pounds against the metal wall behind her.

Control fled, and gasping pants replace her voice as she hyperventilates in the dark.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 10:39 pm
by Amarlex
"Ay, jeez, sorry, just trying to-" Daniel shuts right up when he hears that banging. "-Oh." He shifts his legs around a little to see if those are manacled as well.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 11:48 pm
by AlwaysAPrice
Daniel, as would the others if they checked their own, found his feet were not restrained.

The footsteps changed direction a few steps after the third knock, rounding a corner of their prison, then stopped. Silence fell for only a second, then the grinding squeal of metal dragging against metal echoed through the space. The entire structure shuddered lightly against their backs, only so noticeable because of their strangely heightened senses since awakening. The sound repeated, but the second time was less intense, and more identifiable.

It was the sound of heavy bolts being drawn out of place. The doors were about to be opened.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 4:53 am
by AlwaysAPrice
The lashing rings on the side rails and corner posts may take loads of up to 2000 kg. The lashing rings in the middle of the side walls may take loads of up to 500 kg, provided that the roof is closed.

As words lanced inexplicably into James' mind, a sliver of light lanced into the darkness.

As the doors to what had been correctly identified as a shipping container parted, late-day sunlight flowed through the crack between them. It was not much light at all but, with the heightened senses all five captives had experienced since their resurrections, it was sufficient to give them their first visual insights into their situation.

The interior was a bit less than eight feet wide and high, and nearly twenty long. The faded paint on the walls was a dark gray, scuffed and chipped to an extent that suggested this container had been in use for a long time for perhaps less ominous purposes than its current use. From the back of the container to the opening doors, Rachel, Sara, and Samantha were chained to the left wall, Daniel and James to the right wall; the metal bands of their shackles were screwed together around their wrists rather than keyed, and the chains were not in fact bolted directly to the wall, but threaded through rings bolted to the wall as a part of the container itself. Scattered haphazardly across the bare steel floor of the container were five discarded bags of thick, translucent plastic, just about the right size to fit over a human head, with tatters of duct tape around their open ends.

The doors opened fully, hauled apart by what registered at their very first glimpse as a slender man in a gray suit with receding white hair, a prominent aquiline nose and a cruelly thin mouth. He pushed the doors apart and stepped into the container with the aid of an ebony cane, which was topped with an ornate gold and silver handle in the shape of an eagle's head. These details soon ceased to be of much importance to the imprisoned dead.

An instant after they laid eyes upon him, blinding light unlike any four of these five had ever beheld exploded out of the cruel-lipped man's body, flooding the container with a blue-white brilliance that seemed to boil the world itself out of their vision. It was as if a small star had gone supernova in his chest. Only Sara had seen such a glorious light before, in the final instant before she had succumbed to her wounds.

Though he was no taller than any of the five, this man seemed to loom terribly in the mouth of the container as the initial explosion of light subsided, or rather, drew back into him, into a coruscating gleam that suffused his flesh and shone from his eyes and mouth, seethed out of the very pores of his skin in a luminous vapor that coalesced into a brilliant corona that seemed to outline him from every angle. The greatest concentrations of his light seemed to stream from his sides, wide bands of light that stretched the length of his back and blazed outward interminably, like an endless river of light that had been diverted to flow through his body, or wings that stretched to infinity without regard for the physical world's obstructions.

The pain of beholding this man's light was close to unbearable. Looking directly at him wasn't just like staring at the sun, it was like staring into a blowtorch pointed at one's pupil without any promise of the release a charred eyeball might offer. The light had more effect than its excruciating shine, as well. Some quality of it stabbed through their eyes and into some primal trigger, in the recesses of not just their brains but their very souls, to release a surge of adrenaline into all their bodies.

The man looked mildly perturbed to see the lot of them awake, when his face could be glimpsed through the ordeal of beholding him. His head turned as he looked each one in the face, his corona and the glow of his eyes shifting each time a second before his flesh mirrored its movements, leaving a glowing trail of persistent after-images in the air, an arc of burning eyes marking the path of his gaze. He mused something aloud, but the one word he uttered came in a thousand thundering voices speaking a thousand tongues, a senseless cacophany that pounded into the ears of all the captives like a sledgehammer swung at their eardrums. Only one of them would understand.


Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 8:06 am
by Idran1701
Pressing his eyelids closed, turning away from the man, James hardly even realizes the nature of the words running through his head, thinking them simply some half-remembered fact bubbling to mind. As of now, he's more concerned about who...what this man is, what's going on. "I...I don't...who are you?" Not that he expects a straight answer, but there's always a chance.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 3:23 pm
by Shinigori V2
Rachel turned her head away as best she could, squeezing her eyes shut to block the light. "Y'know what we're good just dun worry 'bout it y'can just shut th' door now if y'wanna that's cool."

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 10:56 pm
by Visavis
Sam's reaction is less coherent, in that it is less words, and more pained screaming. The moment of pain passes as she turns her head and closes her eyes, only to be followed up again as the man speaks. She tries to take a glance, to see who it is that she is dealing with, but is met with the same results as before. No words follow, just shuddering.

It suddenly seems unlikely that Nate is involved, at least.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 11:05 pm
by Croceum
It was the light all over again, forcing Sara to squeeze her eyes shut and avert her eyes from the divine figure before them. The sight before her was enough to give some semblance of comfort - enough to get her breathing under control if for no other reason than to fall back into the prayers she had recited with her mother every Sunday in Serbian.

<"Glory to the father...">

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 11:34 pm
by Amarlex
Daniel cringed and squinted his eyes, not that it helped stem that awful tide of light coming from their captor. Without thinking of exactly how he was able to sort through that wall of great and terrible sound, he spoke up:

"What is? What are you talking about?!"

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Fri Oct 11, 2013 2:28 pm
by AlwaysAPrice
The shining man ignored the words of most of his captives as if their speech was little more than the yaps of frightened pups, their inquiries pointless given the vast gap in knowledge and comprehension between their kinds. Certainly, like any beast, they could be trained through discipline and reward to behave in a manner more to his liking, but to what advantage? In the end they would still be no more than animals, their feral nature perhaps suppressed by fear and gratitude but never fully excised.

Better to drown this litter now than risk their bite later.

Sara's shaky prayers brought a humorless smile to his lips, a look of cold satisfaction. The light streaming from his eyes bent towards Daniel when that one responded not just to the power of his voice but to his actual speech, and his head turned to follow. He regarded Daniel with the same kind of incredulous doubt any human might display towards a dog whose bark sounded eerily like a word.

His thin mouth creased into another empty smile, and he humored the one who could hear with a response. His voice thundered throughout the container again, a meaningless maelstrom of sound to most of them, as he took a few steps deeper into the container. This time others besides Daniel caught individual words, but only he came anywhere close to full comprehension.





The words fall out of his speech in disjointed fragments, meaning pried at random from different layers of the speaker's omniglot dissonance. ...mongrel hears? ...this operation. ...afford neither incompetence nor... ...should have...concrete...even properly bag you--"

Something crumpled under the tip of his cane and his voices, all his many voices, fell silent.

He lifted the cane and extended it to push one of the container doors further open, to shed more of the dwindling daylight on the container floor. Despite how intensely the light of his blazing aura burned when one of his captives looks too long into it, it strangely did nothing to illuminate his surroundings. He returned and stooped down to inspect his find, lowering to one knee while steadying himself with his cane in the middle of the container, directly between James and Samantha. It was one of the handful of plastic bags littering the container. As he realizes its purpose and that it once did serve the function for which it was intended, his attitude shifts drastically. The detached professional disappointment with which he spoke before is gone, replaced by wary, paranoid caution, and the hand not steadying him with the cane reaches into his jacket - of all things, this superior being withdraws a walkie-talkie.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Sat Oct 12, 2013 12:14 am
by Shinigori V2
"Hey!" Rachel shouts indignantly. "'m not a mongrel..." She mumbles after a moment more. "...Racist rainbow."

...Take a look, at the gook, racist raiiinboooooow.

It was roughly at this time that Rachel began to regret her life decisions.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Mon Oct 14, 2013 6:28 pm
by AlwaysAPrice
The shining man stood, raised the handset to his mouth and pressed the talk button. He spoke in his thousand tongues just a few words, too few for the hearing of most of the prisoners to adjust to in time to make out anything but his urgency and rage.

"Dump it now!"

As he spoke something moved behind him, the silhouette of a man rounded one of the open doors and rushed up behind those endless rays of azure light. Before the shining man could follow his first words into the radio with further instruction or warning, a heavy THWANK rang out. He dropped the walkie-talkie and staggered a few steps further into the container before collapsing with a groan at Daniel's feet and clutching at his head. Unlike the movements of his own accord, his blue-white corona seemed to be dragged unwillingly along with the involuntary crumpling of his fleshly form. It seemed to struggle around him as he lay on the cold steel floor.

A newcomer stood where the shining man had a moment ago, holding a fire extinguisher triumphantly overhead with shaking arms and a worried expression. He was African-American, in his late 40s, his hair was trimmed close to his skull and salted with gray. He wore wire-framed glasses, a rumpled tweed jacket over a slate gray dress shirt and blue jeans, and a crooked bow tie that was a deep sky blue with sun gold stripes. He looked reasonably unstartled by the sight of the five captives chained to the walls.

"...Hi," he said after it seemed the man he'd clubbed would be staying down long enough for him to collect himself. He lowered his arms, letting the extinguisher dangle from one hand, then let it slip from his hand to thunk against the floor of the container. He moved his jacket aside and drew what looked like a military-issue survival knife from a sheath at his waist, holding it with an unsure grip as he pointed with a shaky finger towards their downed captor and looked questioningly around at the chained. "Is he one of them?"

He stumbled a step to the side as the vessel they were on lurched into the beginnings of a turn, and somewhere outside machinery rumbled to life.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Mon Oct 14, 2013 6:45 pm
by Shinigori V2
"Is he wonna who what huh who cares who 'e is just get us th' fuck outta here!" Rachel shouts, spazzing out as much as possible in her captured state.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Mon Oct 14, 2013 9:16 pm
by Croceum
The THWANK broke through her prayers, forcing her eyes to pop open in shock as the celestial figure fell to the ground before them. Several sputtered words failed to make their way out of her mouth as she struggled to make sense of what was happening. Staring at the newcomer, she managed to finally string words together.

"H-hello? I... we... don't know anything about..." Her eyes dropped toward the fallen 'divine' figure.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 15, 2013 1:00 am
by Idran1701
Relief rushes through James at the appearance of this new stranger. Eyes flick briefly to the floor, to the terrifying man and the strange aura surrounding him. "Same...I just woke up here, and then he showed up, and he was saying such...I couldn't even tell what most of it was. Can...can you tell us what's going on? Um...or...or even just letting us out..." Even with their release close at hand, James still feels like he might break into hyperventilation at any moment.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 15, 2013 2:29 am
by Visavis
"Let me out, you motherfucker," Sam half cries, half growls at the newcomer.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 15, 2013 3:17 am
by Amarlex
Just as Daniel is beginning to piece together what this incandescent man's intentions are for the group, his growing panic is dispelled with a metallic thunk.

"Oh. Ah, thanks. I don't know what he is, but I think he was planning to drown us in this thing."

Daniel turns his head when he hears the dull whirr of machinery turning on. "Actually I think he and his friends still might be. Please get us the hell out of here!"

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 15, 2013 3:39 am
by AlwaysAPrice
The man in the bow tie waved his hands around as several of the prisoners talked at once, then put his palms out to ask for quiet and patience. The gesture was perhaps more threatening than he intended considering he had his thumb folded to keep the handle of a large knife held against one of those palms. At Daniel's speculation, he nodded rapidly, then jabbed a finger at the man he'd knocked to the ground, who was already groggily stirring. "I know, that's why before anything, someone needs to tell me: what do you see there?" He looked around at them all and gestured hurriedly for someone to answer despite having sought patience only a few seconds before.

They could all hear something whirring and clanking somewhere well past the closed end of the container. High above them, steel cable twanged and rattled.

Re: Seers

Unread postPosted: Tue Oct 15, 2013 11:38 pm
by Croceum
Sara gave him a baffled look, "What are you asking? A glowing man? Is that even a man?!"

A sharp yelp escaped her lips at the sound of a machinery working, particularly when the reality of their situation fully hit her. Terrified eyes swung to Daniel, "DROWN US?!"