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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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Believe it or not, I used to have twice the number of arms I have now.
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[Sort of!]
Was it not...gone before, or did these people cut your arm off, is the more pressing question.
[and like what the hell kind of blastia did they attach to you to make it do that, but that's a secondary question to DID OUR CAPTORS STRAIGHT UP RIP YOUR ARM OFF OR WAS IT ALREADY LIKE THAT AND THEY TOOK YOUR. BLASTIA ARM. BLASTIARM. FUCK HIS LIFE.]
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It was like this before I came here.
[ .... technically it didn't even happen to him but cloning happens sometimes. It's fine. ]
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[...]
That is blastia, correct?
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[ .... ]
It used to be, anyway.
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I assume that's some sort of more...advanced race, technologically? We have at least one of those where I came from.
[is it obvious that cumore doesn't talk to people. like normal conversations do not happen with this man. i am so sorry shiro oh my god.]
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[ good god but shiro is so patient
this is truly the nightmare scenario ]
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[HE UNDERSTOOD SOME OF THOSE WORDS.]
So what is it you...do, precisely?
[should he have asked that
is this going to involve more space words.]
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[ "occasionally" ]
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[...HE IS MEDIEVAL AS FUCK PLEASE FORGIVE HIM HOW DOES SPACE]
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Oh, yeah. My universe--this universe, too--is just one of many. We've been up there exploring for a long time, but there's still so much to discover.
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