THE GRAVEYARD

[divus]

THE LANDING

You’re having an out of body experience. That’s how it starts, dying. There isn’t any pain anymore, and for a moment, not much of anything else. Your thoughts are a dim hum in the back of your brain, the tips of your fingers seem miles away. Despite that, you find yourself moving, moving, moving from the last place you were in your own body and forward, until you reach a door that you haven’t seen since the beginning of the game. A door that wouldn’t open. A door cold to the touch and seeping with mist. It opens before you, and as if of someone else’s design you walk through it. As it closes behind you, you get the distinct feeling that if you turned around, you’d find it vanished.

What takes up most of your attention, however, is the tolling of church bells. They clang in rhythmic, almost maddening persistence--seems you’re just going to have to try and ignore them, as they show no signs of slowing or stopping, wherever they are.

Once the cacophony becomes easier to manage, the bong, bong, bonging evening out to a pulse inside your ears, you realize that where you are seems to be a world that's incomplete. The floor is nothing but a landing of invisible matter, a spooled red carpet leading you to a few rows of pews and a lone confessional.

You will notice, immediately ahead of you, a cute little mailbox fit for a suburban home. It bids you welcome, though the cheery paint job is a bit muted in this dark place.

Simple and neat furnishings dot the edges of where the landing seems to be: railings mark the unseen edges and draperies and sconces float in the void, giving an illusion of walls. Be careful, however, because they can easily be fallen through if leaned against. Fortunately, someone seems to have kept that in consideration, as a helpful sign warns just this.

On one side of the confessional, a room with bookshelves, a writing table, and pens and paper has been provided: a minimalist study for when you need a bit of privacy to think. On the other side, a wing of dorm-sized, lockable bedrooms provide another bit of space to oneself. There may not be enough for everyone, but nobody really has to sleep--so just take turns!

To the left of the pews, it looks like a miniature bar has been crafted with a small but decent selection of drinks. There's a small television seated on the counter, but it only seems to ever work two times a week: the week's opening announcement on Monday mornings, and Saturdays, tuning in at the beginning of the trial and tuning back out again at its conclusion. There's also a piano to one side of the bar, allowing anyone to provide musical accompaniment to their drinking.

Perhaps most interestingly, an ornate black doorway at the far end of the room leads to a curving hallway that ultimately leads to what appears to be a temple. It's similar to the altar room they'll remember from the living side, but there are no power inscriptions, and the only furnishings are wavering, grayscale candles on the walls that never seem to burn low and great sculptures of leaping rams. The two black-marble statues meet in the center, curved horns joined above a platform, decorated with nothing but a lone offering bowl. The dark marble of the item is cracked, but it seems like it'll still get the job done. Try sending something, if you wish!

Maybe this place is meant to be more. But for now, Patience is the only notable figure you have to place your attention on, and she comes forward to welcome you immediately.

"Welcome to my dominion," she greets in her usual, cheerful candor, and points at your hand, where you hold your godly token. "Now that you've been eliminated, I'll take that back and return it on your behalf. Don't worry, though, I'm not leaving you empty handed."

OOC NOTES

Hello, eliminated competitors, and welcome to the graveyard. Although it isn't much to look at, now, this area will be growing and expanding in time with the help of your characters' actions and participation in weekly events. What they unlock will have an impact on the living side, overarching plot elements, and ways to communicate between both planes!

When it seems like there isn't much to do, there's always one option left: gathering information. So sit back, enjoy the afterlife, and put on your thinking cap!

full navigation.

locations ♦ taken ♦ profiles ♦ weekly curfew ♦ murder proposals
ic rulebook ♦ temple offerings ♦ private convos

Comments

[requiemed]

[Here she is, wearing a wetsuit and looking incredibly exhausted for some reason. Her voice is deadpan as she points at Newt Gina.]

It was totally her who took it.

[divus]

[She looks from "Pip" to "Gina".]

Interesting theory that I doubt is steeped in any personal grudges. Please provide your evidence!

[requiemed]

[hi i officially decided that a love of poetry means she's only speaking in haiku from now on]

Last night, I awoke
To see a small girl running
With a bowl in hand.

[goatsongs]

[Quick thumbs up!]

[arockstar]

I'm an elderly woman. Nice try, you walnut.

[requiemed]

Your dress would appear
To tell a different story
If I may say so!

[it's made for babies]

[arockstar]

[She bristles.]

It brings out my eyes, I'll have you know.

[requiemed]

The eyes of a thief
Who through her own sinful hands
Stole the missing bowl!

[arockstar]

Do y'all have any real proof? How do we know you didn't steal the bowl and you're just trying to frame me!

[requiemed]

My own eyes are proof
Enough, the crime in question
Is your own doing!

[hymned]

Ah-- did you? [ and here's the other o'gallagher speaking up with a faint sort of concern, him pausing in the middle of petting his puppies, ]

Can you tell which way she was headed...?

[requiemed]

She deposited
The offering bowl on her—

[Before the next line, she points to Estelle Sally.]

Person, to frame her.

[terca]

... what?

[ FROWNING VERY UNHAPPILY ]

Are you sure?

[requiemed]

I arose during
The night, to see the woman
Deposit her prize.

[arockstar]

[Gina GASPS like whatever-your-name-is has just accused her of MURDER which, yeah.]

How dare you, you... uh. What are you supposed to be? A scuba diver?

[requiemed]

No scuba diver
A humble swim instructor
Who knows what you did!

[why is this happening]

[arockstar]

I've never done anything wrong in my life except one thing that happened, uh...

[looks at card, does math.]

Seventy? Yeah, let's go with that. SEVENTY YEARS AGO.

[selfimmolates]

Oh? Let's hear this. What happened?

[arockstar]

My dear brother Dirk took an awful spill out of a window while on vacation in, uh, Istanbul.

[not constantinople.]

[selfimmolates]

You pushed your brother out a window!?

[hymned]

She absolutely did.

[selfimmolates]

Damn. Did you get back at her, at least?

[goatsongs]

I almost feel a tiny bit bad for him.

[requiemed]

You see the truth now?
Her soul is corrupted, and
She stole the lost bowl!

[arockstar]

It was an accident! You'd think seventy years would be enough to let bygones be bygones but apparently old Dirk still has a stick up his ass about it.