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WELCOME
Good morning.
Or perhaps it might be more appropriate to say good evening instead, considering how it is moonlight that will rouse you into consciousness. And what a bright moon it is, half-full and clear without contest in the sky as it outshines the stars and galaxies in the backdrop. But it’s all the better to emphasize that the buildings that speckle the landscape before you are all completely devoid of any light. And by the way—do you always sleep outside?
The lack of light can be something to deal with later though, at least when you've properly gotten up from the cold, unyielding stone below you. And that chill down your spine—no doubt that probably has something to do with combination of cool temperatures and poor sleeping conditions, but it’s odd how it seems to linger.
Checking your person for any items that should be in your possession yields disappointing results, but it seems you're not empty handed (or pocketed) because you are now the proud owner of one (1) small bundle of black cloth. Unwrapping it reveals a key imprinted with a roman numeral, along with a simple note.
“Come at 6PM to the place circled on this map:”
“Don’t be tardy, dear Survivors, that’d be a bad first impression. If you don’t want your stay here to be more unpleasant than it’ll already be, you’ll want to avoid seeming careless or disrespectful. You’ll want to listen to my opening speech~!”
Finally, after an empty space that may be simulating an intense pause, there’s one last line:
“I know what you’re thinking, so I’ll say it straight: if you don’t come, you’re as good as dead.”
The news likely isn't welcome, but it's a start. And it seems you're not alone in your plight, though whether company is within arm's length or a stone’s throw away is up to fortune’s whims. For now, you're free to explore the town square and the surrounding areas as best you can in the dim light.
For some reason or another, Krakow, Poland is now your new home. That much is clear from the sign posts that you can inexplicably read, as red and white flag posts with "Święto Niepodległości" flutter lightly in the wind. While the storefronts are dark, the street lamps that scatter the town provide some measure of light, providing some solace against the layer of fog that's begun to creep in.
( OOC: Welcome to Antumbra! This intro log occurs ICly Sunday. Your MM's will be around at 6pm EST to hear your complaints. )
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[he sighs again and sets the candle aside]
... Yeah. Real sparingly.
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[...it's more or less a clarification because oh goddess, should he warn Lysithea, or will she care if she doesn't think of them as ghosts immediately...?]
Well, in any case, it's a bit like incense, I think.
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[...]
...a different worlds thing? This is getting a bit difficult to adjust to, honestly.
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[...WHAT THE FUCK IS A VIDEO GAME???]
I suppose it's fairly obvious that mine isn't, though I do suppose we have our fair share of ghost stories. They are generally about the restless dead, though.
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mindfreak]
In my world, the dead inhabit several worlds of their own, separate but parallel to that of the living. Maybe it's the same fer yours.
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Are the living often aware of that in your world? I do not think that is often the case in my world, at least.
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...
There are people who fear them, obviously...
[GOD... IS LYSITHEA STILL AFRAID OF GHOSTS, ACTUALLY...]
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[IS HE BEING SERIOUS....]
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Are you being facetious or is that what actually happens.
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They're frequently chalked up to cardiac arrests, accidents, whatever... Because Hollows eat their souls, not their bodies.
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