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THE GRAVEYARD
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."
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!
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!
TALK TO PATIENCE
Alright, so all cards on the table.
[She's on the staff-side of the bar, hands splayed out.]
You've been watching, so I'll be brief. I owe all of you an apology; I lied, and I won't ask you to forgive me for that breach of trust. This was my strategy to win from the very beginning, and it had to be a secret so I could avoid taking the divine oath that bound me to the same rules as all the others.
[But, that aside.]
There's nothing to worry about. As soon as Chuuya took back his token, it ensured my failure. Everyone will get revived and get their wish. If you have anything else you'd like to ask, I'm happy to answer your questions.
[She takes off her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose.]
I did intend to speak to all of you first, but Piety's ability played my hand. I had no choice but to make an appearance. That said, giving them answers isn't of any higher priority to me than giving you answers. So, please, ask away.
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...but that wouldn't be fair to either of them, really.
So he emerges and comes nearer, although he can't meet her eyes.]
...Hey.
[Good start.]
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Hey, yourself.
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You didn't have to let me cry on you. So... I wanted to thank you for that, at least.
[Even if his trust is broken and unlikely to be fixed, he can't think of any way that was meant to help her win.]
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[She silently grabs a bottle of sake from behind the counter and puts it on the counter, pushing it toward him.]
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Is your power actually unstable, or was that a lie to keep us isolated from the living?
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My powers are fine, but you wouldn't have been able to interact with them much more than you already were. This place being divided wasn't a lie. Why would I give myself less chances at followers?
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In any case, I'm actually pretty pleased about this. [since it validates his suspicions all game!] It never seemed all that believable that you weren't interested in winning.
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Congratulations on being right, Ray. Would you like some juice to celebrate your victory?
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You okay?
[It should come as no surprise to anyone that Newt has no questions about anything else.]
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[...]
Thanks for worrying about me.
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What do you, uh, what do you think this means for us?
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[...]
But, if you still want to stay with me, you can. You'll be able to talk to the other gods, as well, before you make a decision on whether or not to go back home.
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What's your real name?
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[ hi i'm not late bc of dinner what. no questions just yet, he'll instead be shoving the ledger- and bag- toward her before leaning back in seat with a wan expression. ]
Sorry. I'd been intending to give this back to you sooner, but. I won't qualify what I did with excuses, or apologize for acting as I have overall, because that would mark a lack of conviction in the few choices I've during this game-- but on a personal level, I am sorry that I am a major reason your plans went as they did.
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...but probably not too hard, so it's fine. She smiles at him.]
Apology accepted...and now we're even.
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he laughs, just a little, rubbing his cheek a bit, but. ]
I deserved that, yeah.
[ a glance back at the tv, now that everything's winding down, and over at the others crowded vaguely around the bar. ]
I think the others have or are going to cover everything I have to say or want to ask. Not to beat a dead horse... but perhaps we really should have spoken sooner. Properly, I mean.
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[Haha...]
I probably wouldn't have complained, if that had been how things had turned out.
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[A slight glance at Ray.]
I don't think it could have remained a secret contained to us in this space. I would have liked to be more trusting, myself, to earn that trust in return, but once my colleagues realized the loophole I'd found, it would've been game over.
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It was an interesting strategy, though it relied too much, I think, on a few key underpinnings that were easy to knock away with the right opportunities. I myself didn't have any true preferences as to which god would lead the Pantheon, or how the Game itself would end.
[She regards Katherine for a moment, and shakes her head.]
I have enough on my hands, with my own world, without taking on the matters of others.
But I think I will ask. What do you see for the future of this world you're making?