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FINAL INVESTIGATION
FINAL INVESTIGATION
Time continues to pass. And before long, it's the end of the week once again. Maybe it feels strange to call it that when there's such little sense of time besides the changing phases of the moon, and maybe the exact day doesn't even matter to you anymore. But regardless of the day, regardless of the month, regardless of the year, one thing is certain:
The time for preparations is over.
Because as the moon in the sky shines blood red, it becomes clear that all of the fog and the tremors were nothing but omens for what was to come.
And so, on Friday morning, Survivors will find themselves waking up to the sensation of energy practically buzzing through the air, prickling and tingling on skin like static electricity. Those who venture outside will also find that the fog that's creeped up in the recent days has been dispelled entirely, which includes the impassable kind that once hid a number of the buildings. Despite this, the tremors themselves do not lessen, and in fact, the earth itself seems to be vibrating with this energy as well.
The feeling will only get worse as the day progresses, and those who have been marked by the manifestations may feel more restless than normal.
The clock is ticking and there are some new areas to explore. No one's coming to save you, so there's nothing to do but to save yourselves, right?
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The world she sent me was quite a normal one, more technologically advanced than what I'm acquainted with. Beneath the surface however, there's much more than meets the eye. While largely unknown to the general population, this world harbors an alternate Night. Much like Hell, this Night is inhabited by shadows who thirst for the souls of humans, but they don't hold even a glimmer sentience like the dullest demons. Voids, as I have heard them being referred to, is an incredibly apt moniker. While I see little use for these shadows, they would at least be useful as fodder considering how they cowered before me even in human form.
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...Also goddamn it, Rembrandt, can't you keep a fucking diary like normal people. Fine, taking this one too...
Downward again, then.]
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And it's because he's just this way. The last drawer holds... a singular item like the rest, except it's not a piece of paper. A blue ribbon. ]
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But fine, that can come too, he supposes. Is there anything else to see in here, or has he somehow managed to be halfway useful and clear a room today?]
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