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fluxscape2020-08-14 09:00 pm
fluxscapemod) wrote in fluxscape2020-08-14 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
Arrivals - Beachville - OPEN LOG
Who: You and Jerry, the info booth guy!
What: Arrivals! Information! Money! New Homes!
Where: What's commonly referred to as the Information Hub.
When: August 15th, Mid Afternoon.
Synopsis: New faces arrive in Beachville. Jerry is a helper! Probably! Most likely, he isn't. At least, not as well as people wish. He can only tell people so much, see. But there are cookies, if you aren't a jerk.
It starts off simple enough. There isn't even any warning. No feeling like something's coming. No little instinct in the back of your head or what have you that tells you change is coming. You blink, your setting has changed. It's as simple and as quick as that. From where you stand, you're surrounded by tall palm trees. The ground beneath your feet is a mix of dirt and sand and you can smell the ocean. A clean, salty scent only found on untouched, tropical paradises. You can hear the sounds of the beach. People laughing, amusement park rides thundering in the background. And it's actually pretty peaceful. Even the weather is perfect. Just the right amount of Summer heat without being muggy or humid. There are tropical birds singing in the trees around you, and a light breeze in the trees, rustling the leaves. It's pleasant. Until someone clears their throat nearby. And this is when you notice you're not the only person standing there with a confused look on your face. You're part of a crowd, surrounding an information booth with an older gentleman inside.
Was that information booth always there? And how long has the man inside been watching you with that look on his face that suggests he's internally sighing at your presence? He seems friendly enough, however, and once all eyes are on him, he begins speaking.
"Can I have your attention please?" he says, voice calm, lightly accented. And certainly 'no nonsense.' "My name is Jerry Schiff and I run the information booth. I have several envelopes with names on them, so if you hear your name, please step forward and claim your money and information."
With that, he runs down the list of names. And what do you know, your name is on that list.
When you approach, you'll be handed a packet containing money, enough to get through the month, and an information pamphlet about Beachville, along with a note from the mayor welcoming you to town and telling you your stipend only lasts so long and there are many employment opportunities in town. There's also a map with an address and a set of keys. This is where you'll live. The last thing he says to you is to check the chest in your living-room, you'll know which one, before he hands the polite people a box of cookies. They smell amazing and the box is warm, like they're very, very fresh. You might even find your favorite cookies in the box. They've won awards and are delicious. Just as an aside, though; for anyone that's rude, no cookies. For anyone that tries to take a box anyway, they'll find the box is empty. Maybe even full of dead leaves and rocks. That's what you get for acting up, apparently.
Rude enough and he'll shut the information booth windows. No amount of knocking and screaming, magic or psychic abilities will get the doors open again. The booth is pretty resistant, as is the man inside.
Once everyone has their information, Jerry will thank everyone for their cooperation, close the booth down and head into town. Try to follow him. After rounding a corner, he'll seem to vanish and no amount of looking will find him again.
It seems as though the only things left to do are either talk to the people around you, or find your new home.
[ooc: please warn for anything triggery in your threads! thanks! ]
What: Arrivals! Information! Money! New Homes!
Where: What's commonly referred to as the Information Hub.
When: August 15th, Mid Afternoon.
Synopsis: New faces arrive in Beachville. Jerry is a helper! Probably! Most likely, he isn't. At least, not as well as people wish. He can only tell people so much, see. But there are cookies, if you aren't a jerk.
It starts off simple enough. There isn't even any warning. No feeling like something's coming. No little instinct in the back of your head or what have you that tells you change is coming. You blink, your setting has changed. It's as simple and as quick as that. From where you stand, you're surrounded by tall palm trees. The ground beneath your feet is a mix of dirt and sand and you can smell the ocean. A clean, salty scent only found on untouched, tropical paradises. You can hear the sounds of the beach. People laughing, amusement park rides thundering in the background. And it's actually pretty peaceful. Even the weather is perfect. Just the right amount of Summer heat without being muggy or humid. There are tropical birds singing in the trees around you, and a light breeze in the trees, rustling the leaves. It's pleasant. Until someone clears their throat nearby. And this is when you notice you're not the only person standing there with a confused look on your face. You're part of a crowd, surrounding an information booth with an older gentleman inside.
Was that information booth always there? And how long has the man inside been watching you with that look on his face that suggests he's internally sighing at your presence? He seems friendly enough, however, and once all eyes are on him, he begins speaking.
"Can I have your attention please?" he says, voice calm, lightly accented. And certainly 'no nonsense.' "My name is Jerry Schiff and I run the information booth. I have several envelopes with names on them, so if you hear your name, please step forward and claim your money and information."
With that, he runs down the list of names. And what do you know, your name is on that list.
When you approach, you'll be handed a packet containing money, enough to get through the month, and an information pamphlet about Beachville, along with a note from the mayor welcoming you to town and telling you your stipend only lasts so long and there are many employment opportunities in town. There's also a map with an address and a set of keys. This is where you'll live. The last thing he says to you is to check the chest in your living-room, you'll know which one, before he hands the polite people a box of cookies. They smell amazing and the box is warm, like they're very, very fresh. You might even find your favorite cookies in the box. They've won awards and are delicious. Just as an aside, though; for anyone that's rude, no cookies. For anyone that tries to take a box anyway, they'll find the box is empty. Maybe even full of dead leaves and rocks. That's what you get for acting up, apparently.
Rude enough and he'll shut the information booth windows. No amount of knocking and screaming, magic or psychic abilities will get the doors open again. The booth is pretty resistant, as is the man inside.
Once everyone has their information, Jerry will thank everyone for their cooperation, close the booth down and head into town. Try to follow him. After rounding a corner, he'll seem to vanish and no amount of looking will find him again.
It seems as though the only things left to do are either talk to the people around you, or find your new home.
[ooc: please warn for anything triggery in your threads! thanks! ]
Athol Forsyth | Original | OTA
He'd been on his way to bed when it happened, slightly buzzed, definitely not dressed for tropical weather. Instead, he wore dark jeans, boots, and a long sleeved cream colored shirt. For a long moment, everything felt especially surreal, like he'd fallen asleep and started dreaming, but he knew that couldn't be true. He wasn't that drunk, and he hadn't even made it to his room yet.
Blinking a few times to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness from the sun, Athol looked around. None of the faces near him looked familiar, which potentially meant he'd been the only one who'd been taken to...wherever this was. He didn't know if that was a comfort or if it just worried him more. Were the others safe, or were they scattered across this place, in some sort of danger?
Looking up when his name was called, he stepped forward to receive his information, holding himself back from demanding answers no matter how much he wanted to. Whoever was in charge here knew who he was. Did they know everything about him or just his name? Either option didn't do much to make him feel any better. If they knew everything about him, then everyone he cared about could be in danger. Only knowing his name was slightly less troubling, but could still mean danger was looming.
Still, he accepted the things he was given graciously, saying thank you, and then stepped aside with his things and a box of chocolate chip cookies. He did his best to juggle everything so he could leaf through the envelope and then the information without dropping either the cookies or the keys. Or scattering money everywhere.
"This is the strangest kidnapping I've ever heard of," he said to no one in particular. It had to be a kidnapping, because how else could they have suddenly ended up here, without warning?
ii. Later
After he'd visited his new residence and stashed the information he'd been given--and most of the money--he rifled through the chest he'd been told about. He set the framed photo of himself and his brother, which he'd previously kept on his dresser, on the nightstand next to the bed. The blanket he draped across the foot of the bed, and the gun he put in the drawer of the nightstand.
With his necklace tucked under his shirt, he headed back out to see if he could gather any information. The sun hadn't yet started to set, but it would be soon enough. He hadn't bothered to change clothes yet, but he'd at least rolled up his sleeves so he was a little less hot.
For all intents and purposes, this seemed like a normal town. Nothing immediately jumped out at him as being a threat, but that didn't mean threats didn't exist. He was always on guard, despite appearing relatively calm and relaxed. He didn't like anything about this, no matter how nice everything looked.
Re: Athol Forsyth | Original | OTA
But this sand felt really, really real. Not like the static electricity-feel of objects in a game. So he was pretty damn confused until he heard the guy speak.
"Yeah," he says, nodding his agreement. "Yeah, it really is. The last time some stranger knew my name, I ended up mentally shut down in a concrete prison."
It's a long story. A very long story.
"There were no cookies at all involved, or a place to live. And absolutely no beach, even if we were in the middle of the ocean."
no subject
"This feels less like a traditional kidnapping and more like...a forced relocation? But it's a kidnapping all the same." As pleasant as it was. If they ('they' being their kidnappers in this situation) wanted to lull them into a false sense of security, it might work on others but Athol had too many things to worry about.
"The cookies are a nice touch, though." Nice as in weird.