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melodiesofeternity2018-10-18 09:07 pm
eternitymods) wrote in melodiesofeternity2018-10-18 09:07 pm
Entry tags:
- [*] event,
- [au] frisk,
- [au] johnny d'amico,
- [au] reno,
- [au] riku replica,
- [au] serge,
- [ou] angeal hewley,
- [ou] baiken,
- [ou] cor leonis,
- [ou] corrin,
- [ou] finn (star wars),
- [ou] keith,
- [ou] kid (chrono cross),
- [ou] kuja,
- [ou] marinette dupain-cheng,
- [ou] noctis lucis caelum,
- [ou] okuyasu nijimura,
- [ou] orcelito noctircus,
- [ou] regis lucis caelum,
- [ou] riku,
- [ou] sephiroth,
- [ou] snow white,
- [ou] sora,
- [ou] takashi shirogane,
- [ou] terra,
- [ou] uendo toneido,
- [ou] ursula callistis
Event || A History of Light and Darkness
Who: Brave Explorers and/or Those Poor Souls Being Dragged Along by Friends
When: Oct 15-30th
Where: Thilmit Border Post, inside the Old Heranean Doll Museum
What: The Heroes of Light received a strange letter, and are now being asked to investigate the strange occurrences at the old doll museum.
Warnings/Notes: OOC Post Warnings for Spookiness, Creepy Dolls. Post toplevels for each group. Please post warnings as needed for memory fragments and exploration. For random numbers, use the dice functions on Plurk or Discord.
The Old Heranean Doll Museum is a small building, but somehow the dark, dusty windows and poorly maintained roof give it a menacing feel as you approach. The sign says, "OPEN"...although, as you approached, you think it might have been turned to "CLOSED".
The door creaks as it swings open, though there is no one from the museum to greet you as you enter. A cold breeze blows in behind you, sapping any lingering warmth in the room. The building is dark, and cobwebs are starting to form in the corners of the lobby and on the velvet rope stanchions that guide the flow of traffic in and out. Out of a shadowy corner, a large centipede skitters across the floor and into a crack low on the wall.
At the reception desk, one of the antique dolls sits, unmoving, unblinking. That goes without saying. Its eyes do not follow you as you enter.... The hairs prickling up on the back of your neck are just coincidence, that's all.
There is another doll perched on the wooden brochure display stand near the door. It's strange that the curator leaves the display pieces out where visitors can touch them....
As you enter, you hear something whistling through the air toward you a moment before it makes a impact. A tiny pebble, too small to do any damage other than a brief stinging. During this moment of distraction, the door slams and locks.
When you look at the spots where the dolls were perched a moment ago, there is now just empty space. There is movement in the shadows, and the nearly imperceptible sound of tiny shapes creeping around.
As you move past the lobby into the exhibits, a sign above the entryway declares:
Welcome to the Old Heranean Doll Museum. We hope you enjoy our historic Heroes of Light displays.
When: Oct 15-30th
Where: Thilmit Border Post, inside the Old Heranean Doll Museum
What: The Heroes of Light received a strange letter, and are now being asked to investigate the strange occurrences at the old doll museum.
Warnings/Notes: OOC Post Warnings for Spookiness, Creepy Dolls. Post toplevels for each group. Please post warnings as needed for memory fragments and exploration. For random numbers, use the dice functions on Plurk or Discord.
The Old Heranean Doll Museum is a small building, but somehow the dark, dusty windows and poorly maintained roof give it a menacing feel as you approach. The sign says, "OPEN"...although, as you approached, you think it might have been turned to "CLOSED".
The door creaks as it swings open, though there is no one from the museum to greet you as you enter. A cold breeze blows in behind you, sapping any lingering warmth in the room. The building is dark, and cobwebs are starting to form in the corners of the lobby and on the velvet rope stanchions that guide the flow of traffic in and out. Out of a shadowy corner, a large centipede skitters across the floor and into a crack low on the wall.
At the reception desk, one of the antique dolls sits, unmoving, unblinking. That goes without saying. Its eyes do not follow you as you enter.... The hairs prickling up on the back of your neck are just coincidence, that's all.
There is another doll perched on the wooden brochure display stand near the door. It's strange that the curator leaves the display pieces out where visitors can touch them....
As you enter, you hear something whistling through the air toward you a moment before it makes a impact. A tiny pebble, too small to do any damage other than a brief stinging. During this moment of distraction, the door slams and locks.
When you look at the spots where the dolls were perched a moment ago, there is now just empty space. There is movement in the shadows, and the nearly imperceptible sound of tiny shapes creeping around.
As you move past the lobby into the exhibits, a sign above the entryway declares:
Welcome to the Old Heranean Doll Museum. We hope you enjoy our historic Heroes of Light displays.
no subject
After her attack, she steps back and glances up to where the Tear doll threw its fork and notices Richard clambering up the table leg. "Mr. Conway, watch out!"
no subject
Richard makes an ungentlemanly, high pitched sound as a fork was lodged forcefully in the foam right above his head as he dropped down and body-hugged the kid-friendly table leg. His hat was skewered right above him.
His hat. His hat! HIS HAT! THEY PUT A HOLE IN HIS FEDORA!
He looks down with the coldest look his button eyes could muster, snatching the felt thing out of the grip of the fork before climbing up over the edge of the table. There was a moment of quiet. And then a second later, Richard launched himself off the side of the table, bent back like a bow, with a pair of sewing needles in each hand.
This was going to get [Physical]. This was going to get very [Physical].
no subject
Aiming to stab down on its shoulder her intention was to pin it in place, as she gets right in its business, doll-face to doll-face. "Whassat you said?! About some Calamity markin'? You better start talkin' or else I'm gonna kick yer stuffing so hard you'll—"
no subject
Serge, meanwhile, is having his own troubles, clashing repeatedly with 'Bartz', who manages to land several glancing blows in spite of a valiant effort to fend the doll off. Serge aims low, attempting a [Sweeping Strike]-
But even as the doll is knocked off its feet, it rolls up again, thrusting around his guard and into his shoulder. It's probably a good job it's just fabric and stuffing. The others might well be alerted to this situation by Serge's cry of pain as he stumbles back, the doll withdrawing its blade with a flourish and then charging forward for another attack.
"Die."
no subject
"Hi." Richard sing-songed in that particularly sociopathic way, anger in his black button eyes. "I'm his guardian. That means I'm the guy filling in for his parents when I do this." He rears back, clenches his fist, and lets the encroaching doll have it with a [physical] haymaker.
There's a moment of pause before he lets out a hiss from the sides of his mouth. The seams of his trousers and boots began to glow blue. This is starting to work him up. He can't think straight, but he is starting to feel infinitely less bad about doing this guy like he did Gessler.
no subject
A mistake, as it turns out. Injured Serge may be, but he's not out. The oar swings round in another [Sweeping Strike], and this time 'Bartz' is too distracted to dodge, legs knocked right out from under him. "Don't think I like these dolls very much."
no subject
Slightly out of range still from where Bartz and the boyz are settling their differences, she reaches again for her sawed-off shotgun, cocking the next round into place.
no subject
Serge takes the opportunity of a downed doll to kick away the letter-opener. "Well, this one stabbed me, and the other one tried to kebabify Richard. Frankly, I'm in the mood to find out why." He plants a foot on the doll's chest, grinning down at him. "Help us out, huh? What do you mean by Calamity-marked, and how come you and your friend there are so keen on cutting us to pieces?"
no subject
"Something you and the other Calamity-marked have been doing has been weakening Mog. He won't say what, but it must be something evil. Mog has been protecting the Heroes of Light from your influence so that it doesn't affect us too."
Bartz goes still, and from one of the tubs of craft supplies stacked against the wall, more dolls pop out. They throw up their hands and a cast a Thunder spell. The attack is not aimed at anyone, but the flash of lightning is blindingly bright.
When the spots fade from everyone's eyes, the enemy dolls have made a hasty retreat, leaving behind only some stuffing and scraps of fabric as evidence to their presence.
sorry for AFK healer
"Serge, are you alright? That looked... uncomfortable."
no subject
[Corrin prods some of the discarded fabric with her foot, while Klonoa attends to Serge.] "I don't understand what that doll was talking about. Is the "Mog" he mentioned the missing curator?"
Round 2: Preservations Required (Roll: 2)
Serge rubs at his shoulder, thankful for Klonoa's attentions. That issue taken care of, he leads the way to the open door, ready to [Parry] an attack that's coming as he crosses the threshold... into a completely different area of the museum. There's sewing supplies and doll parts and barrels of stuffing all over a central area, with seating around it. Some kind of medical theater for dolls?
Serge has little time to appreciate the environs, however. The second the last person's feet cross the threshold, there's that sense of vertigo and distortion again as the world fades...
And when it comes back into focus again, the party, recovering from a slight bout of sudden unconsciousness, finds that their fabric and porcelain have been replaced, once more, with flesh and blood. And amid scattered sewing supplies is a suspicious package, wrapped in brightly-colored paper, with a design that suggests it's something from the Gift Shop.
"Wha... okay. That was... disorienting. Good news: magic doll trap seems to have worn off. Bad news, this hurts a lot more than it did. Ow."
no subject
As they re-grouped, she crossed her arms over her chest, weapons back in their proper places, Kid tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. Serge had gotten hurt, but it seemed that most of the others had already expressed their concerns— making anything she would have to add just more worry for him to deal with.
She's more content to follow along than to stand still, but as that dizzying effect takes hold of them again, she stumbles just slightly, bumping into Serge with an— "Oof," to find him once again, fleshy and solid... and in pain. "S-sorry, mate."
But yeah, why don't we focus on that GOOD NEWS, EVERYBODY?
??????
When this accomplishes nothing other than a mildly-crinkled bow, he bends down to open the dreaded box. "It's... I have no idea what this is."
He pulls the object out, unfolding a... very cozy-looking whale kigurumi. "Why is there a random set of adult-size footie pajamas in the death museum?"
no subject
But if there was anyone in this group that might wear them, well... she looks up suspiciously at some of her prime suspects— Klonoa or maybe even Richard... and an eyebrow raises when she gets to Corrin... would she? Hmm.
no subject
He glances at Kid, and only offers a shrug. "Pajamas with feet on them just seem like a bad idea to me." If you get too hot, how are you supposed to cool down at night?
no subject
But it was too late. Everyone fell to the ground, one by one. Richard Conway fell to his stuffed little ragdoll knees, landing face first onto the laminated tilework...
And then got back up rubbing his head, wondering what the hell just happened. Upon feeling actual hair, he immediately looked at his hands, and then looked into his trousers for a second, heaving out a relieved sigh.
"Just... Don't do that again, Serge. I now have a heart that can have attacks again."
no subject
[She'll probably want to put them through the wash first of course, just in case.]
no subject
Oh my god, she's going to wear that thing around the apartment. He didn't know whether to laugh or to stifle some truly unmanly sounds that squeaked from the back of his throat from how adorable that mental image was.
"I think it's all you, Ms. Corrin."
no subject