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Priority Log - Part 1
Log 02 Priority (Part I)
The Mine Car
As characters enter the car, their phones will notify them of a new message…
> ▮▮▮▮▮▯▮▮
> ▮▮*
> OVERRIDE: TUTORIAL MODE DEACTIVATED.
> OBJECTIVE:
>
NAME: The Mine Car
TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCEMENT: Gothic era
DANGER LEVEL: High
GENERAL STINKINESS: High
COMMON DENIZENS: Humans, ornithrops, bearkin
CUISINE: Peasant gruel, bird seed
There is no sender. Or objective?
But that's fine, probably! The car itself is completely functional, and features a fully developed society.
Passengers will arrive in this car and be immediately greeted by a fog that chills them to their core. The car around them is vast, and yet deathly silent. They'll find themselves starting off in a forest of petrified wood, the ground hard and unyielding underneath their feet, with flora and fauna in various stages of decay around them. While the fog around them is thick, the lights of a nearby village can still be seen from a distance, and as they travel, the dirt road will give way to cobblestone.
Eventually they'll be greeted with a signpost, welcoming them to the town of MINECRAFTIA.
While Minecraftia's denizens are harrowed and distressed, they're quick to warn the passengers traveling through of the ailment, a mysterious illness that is plaguing their town. It's been leaving even healthy youths bedridden, and while the town mayor has passionately declared that he will find a solution, it appears that there's no cure in sight.
Locations
Minecraftia is a foreboding little town, even in the daylight, with murky skies above and fog blanketing the roads. Still, the denizens persist through their daily routines, and won't stop the passengers from exploring.
Clinic: The town's only clinic with the town's only doctor. It's a small, rickety building that operates all hours of the day. Between the rapid spread of sickness and the steady depletion of supplies, it's a grim place to be nowadays. Anyone healthy who visits might be roped in to help, and those who look ill will be quarantined with an uncomfortable bedroll and thin blanket.
Cemetery: Located on the outskirts of town, the cemetery is home to dead bodies, even deader earth, and a deadpan gravekeeper. The exit door is here in a flower-covered plot, but cannot be opened.
Chicken House: A barnyard building home to the town's chickens. Lately they've been more worked up than usual, and taken to flying the coop and finding refuge by digging their claws into the scalps of bystanders. Agitating one chicken may cause a whole flock to descend on you!
The Dark Woods: The village is surrounded by what was once lush woods, but the trees now stand dark and eerie, an unusually thick fog rolling between them. While there are some of the usual, woodland creatures chirruping in the dense silence, they're hard to find. Monsters, meanwhile, are much more common.
The Mines: In the heart of the woods are entrances to the town's expansive system of mines. Stepping inside shows that the dirt and stone is laced with beautiful gems and minerals, but passengers will be shooed away by miners if they try to explore any deeper. It seems there's several dangerous mine shafts underfoot, as well as past attacks by what seems to be mole monsters.
Mayor's Mansion: The largest building in Minecraftia, situated on a hill. While Mayor Chadsef's staff welcomes guests, they will be cautioned not to explore past the lobby, which just smells a little like cleaning chemicals thanks to a diligent maid crew.
Denizens
Players may use denizens as convenient in threads, as well as these NPCs, except for the Mayor. He's a very busy man!
Madam Vermeer: The Madam is a human extremely afraid that she'll die before seeing her son marry. Which means that she is hunting the streets for eligible men and women, and whisking them in droves away into her mansion to be made over, trained in the art of serving, etc. before presenting them to her son.
Cassy Cassatt: Cassy is an ornithrop and the owner of the chicken house. She's shorthanded nowadays, but business-savvy enough to prey on considerate bystanders. She'll rope anyone she sees into helping out, whether it's collecting eggs, feeding or breeding.
Turner: Turner is a bearkin, and one of the nurses at the clinic. He's taken to drinking his weight in mead whenever he's off the clock, and it's not uncommon for his body to be seen unconscious on the road. He'll try to flee or swat blindly if anyone tries to help him, but he really does need help getting home.
Chadsef: The mayor of Minecraftia, who is notably wealthier than the rest of the citizens. He's young and inexperienced, but carries a Birds of Economics degree, and is determined to bring jobs to the town. He'll just need to make sure people are alive to do them first!
Other
The longer that passengers remain in the car, the more they'll learn, and soon they'll realize the following:
- They are not immune to the illness. They can't determine what it is that triggers it. At first it's a sense of fatigue, then hunger and irritability. Then, the numbness will begin, starting in their extremities and spreading up their limbs, until that numbness turns into pain. Eventually that pain will lead to madness, a state of delirium where they begin to behave erratically, endangering themselves and those around them.
- There is something in the woods. Though the passengers saw nothing when they arrived in the woods, at night they can hear growling. Venturing outside will reveal grotesque creatures emerging from the fog, rampaging into the town and tearing flesh and stone with their massive claws. These creatures appear rabid, familiar but warped, and they swarm the town with no regard for their own safety or benefit. Examples: (1) (2) (3) (4)
- Corpses are disappearing. Despite deaths, the cemetery isn't seeing any more business. Rumour has it that a certain wealthy denizen has been paying to have the corpses taken away. But to where, and why, remains unknown…
Numbers
Numbers! Everyone starts with one that glows on their bodies — as a fun thread mechanic, we suggest they're somewhere visible, but it's up to you!
Because while this is not IC knowledge yet, numbers are determined by how troubled your character is. This may be based on their past actions and crimes, but also alienating habits, regrets, personality flaws, trauma, etc — a higher number does not necessarily mean they're a bad person, but it may signify a difficult time in their life, or substantial personal issues.
As passengers enter this car, they'll notice that their numbers may begin to change in response to certain actions and decisions. The general rule is that numbers change as characters work through their issues. If they make a decision that serves to better themselves, their number will decrease. But if they make a decision that is ill-intentioned, their number will increase. Players can change their number as they see fit going forward.
OOC Notes
Exploration: Players may submit on-going threads here to get a short mod tag with further discoveries in any given location. Characters can potentially earn items or clues as to the car's objective this way. Please limit your explorations to one per player; we will let you all know if we have the capacity to do more!
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tags at 2am like a true demon
His elbow rests on the table and he puts his chin on the back of his hand while watching her. As a reward, he was going to allow her to ask something of him. He supposes this works, too. He wanted to talk about this, to begin with.
As he lifts off the entertainment he looks for, he counts them on his free hand.]
Despair. Violence. Subjugation. Sound familiar? I've been thinking about that game you mentioned before.
The kids do call that demon time (also Danganronpa Spoilers)
No she is not.
For a girl who can't stand horror and gore, she sure is absorbing a lot of it.
She gives a tremble at the mention, her fists clench tight in her lap. Not of fear this time, but a spark of quiet fury. She doesn't like to think about the games. Talk about them. It's pointless back home, everyone got to watch for themselves. She wonders if he plans to host his own tournament.
She wonders how much she should and shouldn't say.]
I sh-should have guessed. [Toko's eyes are on the window. Her mouth has resumed that tight, impertinent line.] You'd have liked her. The mastermind. She was like some b-big-chested Despair goddess. She didn't give a crap about anything but m-misery.
kids are demons too i'm old
An eyebrow raises at her and he wants to laugh.]
Oh? [Is that what she thinks he likes? How cute.] Big tits are fun.
[He is gross and looks down at her chest, but keeps the smile on his face.] I find more interest in something a bit lower on the body. [ANY FUCKING WAY!!!]
But you're wrong to think I would like any god.
hard agree
That said:]
Eh?
[Why is he looki—WHY IS HE SAYING THAT?! WHY WOULD YOU EVER SAY THAT?!!?!?!
There is not enough wall to plaster herself too, but you best believe she has jettisoned all the way into it anyhow. She conks her shoulder on the wood just to put an extra two inches between them. No thank you, no thank you sir.
It's a miracle that she has voice enough left to speak at all.]
I — w-well...not a literal god, people just. Treated her like one. [She could provide examples but she doesn't want to give him ideas. He obviously does not need them.]
I suppose th-that they would be your enemy? [Makes sense, since he's some horrific
pervertedbrand of youkai.] Did any come onto the t-train with you?no subject
Unable to help himself now, he chuckles low at her struggle to put more distance between them. Before now, he hadn't thought much about it. Or perhaps he was too focused on Toko's fear and submission to let his thoughts stray, but it would be fun.
It would be fun to ruin her in every way.
So, too little too late, Toko. He has ideas of his own.]
Any of my enemies? [He questions, chin slipping off his hand. One person comes to mind. Annoying. Mask covering his eyes. The pompous bastard who isn't even the king of his own kind, sorcerers. The temperature of the room seems to drop in degrees. Even the lights of the room dim as Sukuna's eyes seem to glow red.]
Yeah. That fucker, Gojo Satoru. I'm gonna kill him, first.
[Meaning! You don't have to worry until then, Toko. Until one (1) Gojo is dead.]
no subject
Normally Toko would feel grateful she can't read minds, but that chilly chuckle gives her no illusions about his train of thought. Sweat beads at her brow as she gives serious consideration to making an escape. It'd be doomed, nobody ever outran a psychopath by diving under the table first, but she'd rather die trying than wait for the next move. Should she sneeze? Maybe Jill would be agile enough to make it.
Before she has to make that call, his mood shifts. The focus is off her, (thank god, just keep him talking, finish this conversation, and fuck off to the furthest edge of town at once), the lights seeming to dim with his sudden glower.
No, not seeming to. They are. There's a sudden chill as his eyes glow red. The lights flicker, as if a restless spirit were answering a séance call.]
Gojo? [The name sounds a little familiar. Probably something she saw scrolling through the directory. It's nothing from a myth, which is what she was expecting to hear.
And fortunately, there's nothing to link it back to the blindfolded man she explored the mines with. Otherwise she might be drawing even more of Sukuna's ire.]
Wh-what did he do?
[WELL THEN Jenna is now forbidden from dropping Gojo. It's game rules. Breach of contract results in non-pleasurable punishment.]
no subject
At her question, his focus shifts back to her. The lights brighten as the murderous gleam dims instead. He exhales a huff through his nose. He isn't inclined to tell her the details. That he was bested by him.
Well, he was only one finger, then.]
I have a score to settle with him, let's just say that. [And in saying so, he decides right after to grab her knee and jerk her closer. The movement causes her skirt to slide up and he unabashedly looks at her thigh as he looms over her.]
I knew I saw something like this, too. There's your number. And, look, haha! That's a higher number than most! It's from that game, isn't it?
no subject
Toko yelps, short and sharp, turning a few patron's heads their way. She barely notices, she's too busy grappling for sanctuary, grabbing him by the wrist and vying to pull free by any means necessary. Her pulse has shot from zero to sixty (or is it sixty to one-twenty? Not like this was a quiet evening out to start with) and her voice trembles, but she fights the hold with renewed vigor. Heels gritted to the floor, bodily pulling away. Just like a fox in a foothold trap.]
Wh-What the hell?! Let go! [Her number? It's higher than most, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?] I told you, I didn't d-do anything in that g-game!
[Get off get off GET OFF]
no subject
After a while, though, it gets old.]
Stop moving or I'll make sure you never will again. [He commands, lifting his eyes from her leg to put the weight of his attention on her face.]
What did I say about lying, you little fool? Maybe you haven't figured it out yet, but these numbers symbolize how much suffering and misery we've caused. Or it's the amount of cursed energy we're capable of using. What I don't get is why only certain people have them...
[That last bit is said more to himself.]
But these. [Back on track, his thumbs smears to the tally marks as his gaze drops again.]
What are these? What are you counting into your skin? Hahaha.
no subject
Toko stills but her panic never subsides. The hand snaring her thigh seems like a hot iron, branding new scars to mar the flesh. She's acutely aware of the tapered black nails. Like talons, like a bird of prey, pinching the glowing number into a small pucker. Primed to rip, pierce, shred. And all the while he leans over her, a monster of muscle and menace. He wouldn't need magic powers to destroy her. She's practically nothing. Swallowed by his shadow in the dim pub light.]
I'm n-not lying... [The same protest, and the same truth. No one died in that game by her hand.
All the same, the theory makes her eyes widen. A count for people they've hurt. Could that really be what the marking is for?
The change is subtle, just one breed of fear for another. Her life is still on the line, but now she wonders if it's not on display in more grotesque capacities than she imagined. Her gaze flicks down to his knuckles, where his own digits burn bright in jaw-dropping figures. Toko's always been the highest number no matter who she met, but she's leagues behind someone encroaching on seventy thousand. He's only a few hundred off.
When Sukuna brushes higher her whole leg flinches. Toko's eyes weld shut. It's all mockery. His laughter about the tallies. The intimacy of touch, treading further beneath her skirt than anyone's dared and just to make a fool of her. Her bottom lip's been wedged between her teeth and close to splitting in two, but even that doesn't keep her grounded. When she dares to open her eyes again one tear runs loose, then another.
But she won't avert her eyes. It's with pure bile and gritted teeth that she answers him.]
It's not me c-counting. Those are hers.
no subject
She's crying. Not that he cares but she's laying it on a bit thick, isn't she? His expression goes flat as he watches it trek down her cheek. Does she think tears sway him? No, if anything, he only derives more pleasure from faces like those. From her pain.]
Hers?
[His eyes narrow. Someone else? The revelation is enough to make Sukuna pause, for his grip to loosen just by a fraction. Not enough for Toko to break free but not to bruise anymore. With his free hand, he reaches up, making a broad stroke across her cheek to get rid of the tear. A would-be tender action if it came from anyone else. He takes that thumb and sucks the salt off right in front of her as he gazes at her <>unflinching.]
Explain yourself. Whose then? Who is putting their notches into your body?
no subject
Guagh—
[Pardon her as she wrenches her head the other way. Toko refuses to watch him lick her tears off his fingers. There are no unholy mouths sprouting to do the job this time, but she can't stand it. How can anyone be so openly depraved? Why her? She was nothing, a flea, a stain, a spec of dirt. No man ever paid her mind except to tell her to fuck off. Now the one she can't shake is a literal monster.]
It's a fucking sp-split-personality, all right?! [Though she keeps her voice low, it's still spewing venom. Would an ancient youkai even know what that was? He knew enough to use the network, but she wants to squash the Q and A before it starts.] It's a m-m-mental illness. Like a whole other person in my head. She's the one who c-cut those marks.
[Toko takes a moment. Two seething breaths. Then she looks him in the eye (eyes, god those little extra slits were creepy), lip curling in disgust. There's a fresh line of wetness at her lashes. Her throat threatens to close up.]
There. M-mystery solved. Now let go.
no subject
[That's more interesting than a tiddy goddess! A split personality -- today he learned something. It sounds similar enough to the situation he and the brat were in that he gets it once she explains it like he's five.]
Bring her out.
[He doesn't let go, he doesn't yield to her vitriol. As if he would. If anything, he crowds her in more tightly so his hand can rest behind her head against the wall/seat she cowers against. More of the whites of his eyes show in his enthusiasm. He never would have guessed that this girl's demon, the cause of her numbers, was just that. One in her head.
Very interesting.]
Show me.
1/3
Her leg's still firm in his grip, and he doesn't back off. He leans in. There's a sharp gasp when that hand plants behind her head, a bitten back yelp. She's shrunk, slid down the wall by another two inches, just to keep the illusion of distance as he crowds her. It's foolish to slump further, cowardly to flinch away, but Toko can't help it.
She's been close to death before. But never like this.]
I...I-I...
[There's no getting around it, is there? It was one thing to debate switching earlier, when there was the element of surprise and no hands on her. Now? The odds of Jill pulling a daring escape are slipping down to zero. Worse, she'd probably do something reckless, piss him off enough to snap her neck where she sits. He likes the taste of blood and his favour flips at the turn of a hat, and Jill's still a loose cannon on her best behaviour. Toko might never wake up again.
Then again, he could get impatient with her and kill her anyway. Or threaten someone else at the bar. He could start snapping her fingers off, or grow another monstrous mouth and take a chunk out of her, or — this is why she hates fantasy! Horror! Sci-fi! Shounen manga! The possibilities are endless and the odds are never, never, never in the common folk's favour! Toko was never meant to meet an abomination like this! How can she possibly survive in a world with no tether to reality?
She winces. Another tear leaks loose, but she reaches for her hair. Not to pull. To draw the tip one loose lock to her nose. She tickles it against the end.]
2/3
Aaa-Choo!
3/3
That gleeful gaze flick from his face, to his hand on her thigh, to the tavern around them. Back to him.
She bursts out laughing. High and hard.]
KYAAA-HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! What is this?! Who are you? Are we on a daaaaaaaate?
[She's not slouching now. The girl jolts upright, unabashed by the proximity. She slams a hand to the table and cocks her head curiously at her company, fascinated by all four of those freeky-deeky peepers. Much like him, her small frame means nothing. She gives the impression of standing six, seven, eight feet tall by force of nature alone. There's no stutter now. It's not even the same voice.]
My my my, and you were too cheap to even buy me dinner. Just one drink and you've got your hands up my skirt? You cad! You absolute scoundrel. You should know better than to get fresh with a lady.
["Lady" is a bit of a stretch.]
no subject
More so when he figures out, a moment later, that this is how she brings out her own inner demon. Sukuna soaks the new information. From her appearance to how she no longer cringes to get away from his body. Though the smile on his face is more mild, his eyebrows are still upturned in mocking as she leans in. Calls him names.
He responds by his hand flying forward, faster than she can react, to wrap around her throat. She is then slammed into the wall behind her as his fingers and palm cut off her airflow. Most of it anyway. He allows her to take the gasping breaths she needs and nothing more. How nice.]
HAHAHA! I was debating on making the girl you're trapped in the meal itself! [He tells her, ignoring any 'what the fuck is happening over there' frightened looks he may be getting from the other patrons. You know, from holding this girl against the wall by her neck. By the sound of that crazed laugh just now.]
Hmmm, you're not a curse. This really is some other personality she keeps locked inside her. I wonder what it'd take to have the two of you fuse together since the ones in charge of this train didn't do it for you. Not like they did for me and the brat.
[Split personalities. HOW DO THEY WORK.]
You keep surprising me Fukawa Toko. Maybe I'll just keep you as my own. Have you follow me at my beck and call like a good pet.
[How's that for fresh...]
no subject
As the flash-chokehold manifests and this chucklefuck starts spewing some top notch nonsense, Jill gives a sour hiss with what little give she's afforded. There's no spike of fear this time. Just volcanic rage. The bile spills out in the cruel curve of her Cheshire grin, the flash of her livid eyes.
Man. Jill has some bone to pick with her other half if they live through this. First she doesn't give her a heads up about being spirited away to some Sleepy Hollow-looking dump. Then she wastes her time lecturing her about roughing up that old bastard in the hospital, when she should be warning her about assholes like this guy.
This is the problem with sharing emotions and not memories. She knows looking at this face makes her want to puke. The whys and hows are all a mystery. Could have used a brief on what this turd was capable of, at the least. It's glaringly obvious that he's not human. Or hasn't been for some time.
How annoying.]
Aaaah...so that's it? [Her voice is has been squeezed to a steam whistle hiss. Why, oh why, oh why did Miss Morose let it get this far in the first place? Idiot. She can't do shit backed into a corner like this. Jill's hands raise and splay on either side of her. It could be a surrender. It could be a "tada" moment.] Bitch, or brisket?
[How literal was he talking if he's making a meal of her? And fusion? What the fuck would she want that for? She's already too close to Gloomy as it is.
What to do, what to do?
Her giggle is little more than gasps and a heave of her ribs, a wee wrinkle in her nose.]
Either way...you're really scraping the bottom of the barrel. [Jill coughs. It's dry as a bone. She's got no say while his hand's on her neck. Miraculous that she can spit anything out at all.] Life must be...so dull for you...