multiversallogs | ( open ) liberate your sons and daughters the bush is high but in the hole there's water

Entry tags:

( open ) liberate your sons and daughters the bush is high but in the hole there's water

Who: Everyone!
What: Events around the city, any time.
Where: Everywhere in Baedal.
When: Whenever you’d like.
Notes:
Behold, your all-purpose open game log. There are a couple pre-written starters to help you generate new and open CR, and you may also use this post to start your own group activities or planned threads. GO WILD!
No one is late to this post. You may use it forever.
The companion thread for this post is right here!
DON'T THINK TOO HARD ABOUT IT JUST RP.
Helpful links: Neighbourhoods, City Map.
Lucky Pastry Advice for the Month of Velldaren: A truly rich life contains love and art in abundance.

Warnings: Zombie horrors in the appropriately titled ZOMBIES! thread, otherwise TBA. Please put warnings in subject lines of your comments if content warrants one.

Threaded | Flat

>Gallmarch is the westernmost point of the city, stretching as far out as land will let it into the sea. It’s picturesque with boardwalks, beaches, and inland trail-like roads that wind through cobblestone that’s always just a little sandy. A laid back, lazy canton, it’s always got a few bars and a few diners open, not to me1ntion food vendors along the beach, and markets and cafes besides.

No Fish Today is the local headquarters for old school music and drinks that aren’t watered down. Looking more like a gutted cafe than a proper bar, it’s been the same for decades and no one’s in any hurry to change the aesthetic. It serves its purpose, and it serves mostly alcohol, though you might be able to grab some peanuts, too.

Less loud music and more ambiance, Shrove’s Wing is a teahouse nestled in an old building masked by trees and overgrown vines. It’s the city’s oldest source for veritea, but there’s plenty of mundane (and delicious) options on the menu as well. The courtyard is a popular place to bring lunch and grab a cup.

The House Ecumenal, Baedal’s conglomerate religion for those following the One God of their various worlds, is not a powerful nor significant presence in the city - not especially well-liked but tolerated peacefully on most days, their reputation has sunk to shameful depths in the wake of the Candlelighter conspiracy. Many have distanced themselves from the House, choosing to practice their own specific beliefs in private rather than partake in fellowship or community. It’s hard to blame them.

Not everyone has abandoned the church, however, and those that remain - clergy of sorts, mostly - are steadfast in their desire to carry on and prove that the Candlelighters were a nasty fringe group, not at all resembling the core of the House. To this end, the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, a grand structure of worship in Chimer, is open to the public many days throughout the week. Tea and snacks are offered to all those who wish to come and view the architecture, and while donations are appreciated, they are not solicited. The House has taken a hard line of late to avoid proselytizing.

Instead, there is a sign posted outside that asks for volunteers putting together baskets for the needy. Those that volunteer are taken to the Cathedral’s courtyard where modestly-dressed men and women of the church are putting bread, soup tins, cold cuts, cookies, and some bottles of milk and candy-water in baskets to be sent out. There are cards for each one, but they hold only a message of good will, and no indication of what organization sent them. It’s a good place to do some good work for an hour or two, and have quiet conversation with kind people who, perhaps surprisingly, don’t mind if you chat about risque subjects (political or otherwise). This is a house free of judgment, after all.

The dead don't, as a rule of thumb, walk in Bonetown. The process of reanimation or unlife generally involves magic of some sort, so they might be able to walk in but they then might also have to be carried out. If they're really dead.

If, for instance, they're infected with something... but these technicalities aren't quite as pressing to the Bonetown residents dealing with a nightmarish contagion pattern that causes unthinking aggression and cannibalism among those infected. Where it came from and who's responsible will have to be sorted out later, though the fact that the spread of the infection begins in Bonetown is quite possibly too convenient -- there are thus some limiting factors to the destruction infected victims can cause -- can't be ignored.

'Convenient' is not the term of the moment, however, not when 'horde' and 'riot' are so close at hand. Full infection takes anywhere from five to twenty minutes, though the symptoms are almost instantaneous. Prelude Street is the worst off: a main road lined with shops, there are people with burst blood vessels in their face and eyes, people being noisily sick, and among a high percentage of those not weak or sick, people losing capacity for coherent thought and speech. It escalates quickly, but in patches. Those farthest gone tend to stay until everything and everyone in their vicinity is thoroughly destroyed.

Astronomical events have a haphazard clockwork to their frequency, and those that gather at the Stardome in Flyside are both new arrivals come to witness such an event for the first time, or older residents who have come out before. It's night, and the coolness of evening creeps into the big crystal dome under which people gather. The Stardome sits like a giant glass jewel in the middle of the park, completely transparent and spotless.

Inside, it's only fractionally warmer, and the ground beneath is the packed earth of the parklands. There are stalls set up to offer free hot chocolate in disposable mugs (just crumble them onto the grass when you're done!), and some stand, some settle on picnic blankets. For those that are interested, there are a few guest lecturers around - a couple of science-oriented astronomers, and one storyteller who freely expounds on the myths and legends behind the stars.

When the meteor shower begins, the Stardome is attuned to capture the best visual. It's expanded, magnified, brilliant lights against the black sky that dance along the domed glass ceiling. Bigger and brighter than if you remained outside, although some do capture it from there, with their own eyes or with a few telescopes set up around the place.

It's a strange day. It starts as insane lightning storms in the cool of dawn, still dark, past the hills of Chnum and out into the farmlands. Unseen by most save for those that are always watching, a man stands as lightning strikes him repeatedly -- or from him. He disappears, after a while, riding the lightning up into the foggy grey sky above him.

A dreary day continues charming, before the first rumbles of real weather begin to brew above the city proper. Thunder cracks, felt like a shiver through the air, clouds thick and ugly grey, throwing Brock Marsh into shade, and some surrounding areas. The heavens open to torrential rain so suddenly that people might suddenly be running for dry cover, water striking silver off of the backs of horses, rooftops, collecting deep puddles at any suggestion of an incline on the roads. At least it's just water.

Except it isn't. Under the influence of the rain, which moves through the city vaguely north beneath driving winds, those caught in its wet experience something strange. When they had no powers before, they suddenly have something new -- everything they touch changes colours, for example, or perhaps they can fly when they hum a tune, or they can turn shoes into marshmallow and snails. Other examples might be super strength, turning invisible, telekinesis, but many of them range for the truly odd. In other cases, those with powers already may find them replaced or added to with the above, or their power has been manipulated in some way, or perhaps they are rendered without any power at all. It lasts for anywhere from an hour to a day, before things revert to normal.

The storm itself lasts for a few hours before finally letting up in Dryside. A rainbow shines in the high afternoon sky, before it too disappears.

[author's note: there is no Ava here, there is only ~~zuul~~ this prompt, enjoy.]

Twilight in Syriac Well is usually an enchanting affair. The dimming of the day's light on lushly tree-lined streets, the gentle echo of hansom cab wheels on pavement, the lights slowly coming on in houses, dotting the gaps between tree branches, the young men in various states of distress and death on the lawn of a well-appointed townhouse...

--Usually.

But not this evening, not in front of this place. It's a beautiful townhouse, four levels plus an attic, apparently lovingly cared for. Unlike other houses along this street, no lights glow from beyond the windows or door, all of which are open. Every. Last. One, revealing only darkness beyond. White, gauzy curtains caught by the evening's breeze billow out from time to time.

Three men in their early twenties are outside the front of the house. The first stands at the curb, bellowing HELP US, SOMEONE HELP, FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, SOMEONE, PLEASE with such volume and force he's red in the face and weak in the knees.

The second sits on the lawn, knees drawn up to his chest with his arms around them, rocking back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, eyes wide and yet unseeing.

And the third? He's over there, on the pavement, horribly twisted in death. It seems he dove out the attic window.

HELP US, PLEASE HELP US, HELP...

[below, there will be several vague starter comments, have at. o7]

Dren had decided to take a walk around the city once the sun set. He was curious about what sort of place he'd ended up in.

He hadn't had any particular destination in mind, though he had heard that the Bazaar in Aspic might be worth visiting. He was mostly just wandering, investigating various objects of interest, when he happened on Monster Garden.

He had now been exploring the garden for over an hour, examining the odd statues.

Edited (more interesting post) 2012-09-21 05:31 (UTC)

Hasibe's house tends to have a lot of foot traffic, but today, there has been none. It's quiet around Amaryllis, except when the up-and-coming actress who lives there comes out to sit in the autumnal sun and shiver against the breeze, two things that tend to go together this time of year. No matter how bright the sky looks, the actual temperature reminds her that things are changing all around her. If she looks closely, she can feel it, the dying and recharging of their bodies by their individual cells; had she not been blessed with a re-binding of her power, that sensation would come to her unbidden.

Anyway, it's not as though she really feels the cold.

But she pretends.

She takes her sunglasses and her dog and goes back inside the house, slipping off her shoes, barefoot in a long white tank dress that is opaque until the hips, and then becomes gradually more sheer. The hem is some sort of magical silk that is downright opalescent, like a glimmer of water and transparency by her lower calves and ankles.

No one would think that she is waiting for something, or someone. But she is, and she's been feeling a little bit strangely toward his circumstances today.

(They all lead dangerous lives, and she would never try to change it.)

Threaded | Flat

drinks, food and loitering (gallmarch)

house ecumenal fundraiser (chimer)

ZOMBIES! (bonetown)

starlight, starbright (flyside)

god rain (brock marsh, dryside, etc)

a haunted house (syriac well) - warning for potential horrors

a karaoke night and bar crawl spanning several neighborhoods, avec captain kirk

a night stroll (Echomire)

( hasi's house/amaryllis. for bruce; closed. )