Blackstaff Travel (
travelagency) wrote in
the_last_resort2015-02-12 02:12 pm
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The Witches Huts
Who: Various
What: Swamp Hunting
When: M11 D27 - M11 D29 (Feb 17 - Feb 25) IMPORTANT NOTE days have been changed to make the plot more accommodating.
Where: Three different swamps far from the Village
Notes & Warnings: See the plot post for further details. You are allowed to go to more than one swamp. There's plenty of time, to. Plotting Links: The Marsh of Sorrow | The Offending Swamp | The Witch's Den. Participation is encouraged so that we can make later plots around expanded world access, or so that characters can use potions or cauldrons they didn't turn in themselves. The Slip 'n' Slide log is still open for tagging.
What: Swamp Hunting
When: M11 D27 - M11 D29 (Feb 17 - Feb 25) IMPORTANT NOTE days have been changed to make the plot more accommodating.
Where: Three different swamps far from the Village
Notes & Warnings: See the plot post for further details. You are allowed to go to more than one swamp. There's plenty of time, to. Plotting Links: The Marsh of Sorrow | The Offending Swamp | The Witch's Den. Participation is encouraged so that we can make later plots around expanded world access, or so that characters can use potions or cauldrons they didn't turn in themselves. The Slip 'n' Slide log is still open for tagging.
- The Marsh of Sorrow
- Foggy and murkey, sparse trees jut out of the bog like gnarled fingers reaching to an unseen sky. There's a light mist in the air- raining again in some form or fashion as every explorer who has returned has reported. Not all have returned, though, and caution is very much encouraged. There are more wild hounds than one would expect for somewhere that apparently doesn't have free grazing livestock. They seem to be waiting around for something.
It becomes obvious when a sheep becomes mired in the mud near the border. Easy prey. Luckily the hounds have never shown any interest in people.
The good sign is that that there are few skeletons and creepers. While one might assume that they're hidden by the fog, they're generally extremely sparse. Off in the distant fog there are lit spots, areas where old huts are, glowing mysteriously. Those are the places that the museum wants to be investigated. It just requires wading through the muck to reach them.
What the museum doesn't know is when the marsh is active, emotions play a role in whether someone can make it across. Unfortunately it's the only time that the huts can be located through the fog. People that are entering the swamp with grim feelings in mind will find themselves sinking. Perseverence, ambition, joy, curiosity? Those will help people strive through, and hopefully pull others to the surface. - The Offending Swamp
- The museum doesn't tell people why it provides them with face masks, but oh, they will know when they hit the border of the swamp. It's a terrible smell, not quite like being near a sewer but not far off. That unfortunate paper-mill smell. The mask given to them will allow people to speak freely and unmuffled, but it only blocks out about 90% of the stench. This is one of the situations where someone might hope that the rewards are worth it.
The ground is far more solid than in the Marsh of Sorrow, with plenty of firm areas to roam. It makes the stench more irritatingly mysterious. There are few animals, too. But the answer to that becomes obvious when bursts of flame pop out of small holes in the ground. Apparently getting through will require great care.
The museum did not provide fireproofed clothes. But when the hut is found, luckily alongside its cauldron will be an abundence of fireproofing potions. Their purpose isn't obvious so it would depend on the curious or the adventurous to figure it out. That will at least make getting back out easier. - The Witch's Den
- When entered, this swamp seems the more relaxing one. The temperature is moderate, the air isn't deplorably foul, the boggy areas are not as difficult to navigate. Once someone is within its limits, making their way to the hut, the more unsettling aspects of the swamp make themselves known.
Voices of people lost or left behind speak to people over their shoulders, soft and sometimes pleading, or accusing. They mutter secrets, things about their past, fears that people don't say aloud. Sometimes they're just whispers, and sometimes they're loud enough for the next person over to hear. Often they will tell people to go a certain way, toward another object or in another direction.
If they follow, it will put them back at the edge of the swamp.
There is a single hut in this one, far towards the center. As with the ones in the Marsh of Sorrow, it will glow as the swamp's abilities are active. It lies past the remnants of dilapidated houses and landmarks, a village likely abandoned long before any of the other ruins were formed. It is best found as the sky grows dark. Unlike the Marsh of Sorrow, though, enemies will crawl out of the dark.



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He was doing his best to make sense of it, contemplating all the little different universes and how, if touched by this one, maybe it just forced that tree to happen. He couldn't say quite yet.
"You got a main theory about how it works in your universe?" He asked as if it were the most casual conversation to make with someone. For him, it was his favorite form of interesting small talk.
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"Some compare the Multiverse to a vast lake, into which each action is like a stone thrown into water, except in four or five dimensions. Others treat it as a kind of field, in which all of Time and Space exists simultaneously. Some accept the 'branch' theory, but deny the existence of any kind of centre. Regardless of the metaphor one prefers, however, certain constants remain—the dangers involved in passing between temporal zones, the inevitability of echoes across parallels, the importance of being able to camouflage oneself in an unfamiliar zone."
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"At any rate, before all that started—I was ordinary enough." At least, she thought she was. The memories were forever hazy, with occasional flashes of clarity that she had come to distrust. "Those of us in my region of the Multiverse with this kind of talent usually discover that we have it the hard way, by getting displaced in Time. If this happens, it helps to have someone more experienced to stabilise you and help you learn to exert some will over the process. I met such a person a long time ago, and I've endeavoured to do the same for others. I expect that's why Jeffers wanted to hire me."
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"I'd have felt very lost if that happened to me.... Well... I actually probably would have adapted pretty quick. I think I felt pretty lost back before I became an Agent. Knowing how big the universe was, it made it worth not being a part of the world anymore."
Which was about as forthcoming as he allowed himself to be about feelings, considering he was talking to another member of some secret society. One that also shaped the universe. Maybe someone else who would sort of get it.
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"Not many people understand that," she said. "The price, I mean—and why it's worth it."
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"I guess some ordinary people don't really care whether they are ordinary or not, but want to think of the universe as somethin' special." That was what his case was, anyway. It never insulted him to get lost in it; he was a part of something beautiful and big. "Even when sometimes all that specialness makes it smell like horse shit." Thank you, swamp.
And he noted then that little snowman had wandered right off towards the outline of a dilapidated building. It traced its way up the stairs and looked around in confusion on a porch of a thing, its little distant figure looking about as confused as an animated snowman could.
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She then saw too that the snowman had stopped. "Well, that's the most interesting thing I've seen today," she said, frowning slightly at the structure. "I suppose we ought to investigate, shouldn't we?"
She checked her gun in its holster but didn't draw it yet.
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The camera drone that had been following at a distance did move far ahead, though, watching the bizarre sight of the snowman filling the hut floor with snow as it doodled around in confusion.
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As they approached the hut, she did draw her gun, alert for any signs of danger or movement. But the only motion was the camera drone above and the snowman within the hut. She peered inside. The snowman was still wandering about, and in its perambulations it bumped up against a black iron cauldron near the empty hearth, smearing it with snow. Just visible on the shelves behind was a dull gleam of glass bottles, obscured by dust and cobwebs.
"So what do you suppose this is?"
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"Like a hell broth boil and bubble, huh?" he said mildly, and nudged it with his shoe as if to check if it was trapped.
"Solid. Heavy. Definitely the real deal. Too bad we don't have anyone magically sensitive around." He had a scanner but it wouldn't work for more than that.
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"Magic's not my expertise either," she said. "I suppose we ought to take those back to the town for analysis." She nodded at the bottles he held. "Perhaps a better-equipped party can bring back this thing."
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The snowman out on the porch suddenly directed his attention to one corner, and once he was pinned up against the old fence as hard as he can go he started chucking snowballs. Actually snowballs, that he pulled from that endless perplexing supply he formed from himself? (Herself? How does one gender a barely animate snowperson?)
Kay left the bottles for the moment, wandering out and then noting that it was starting to get later in the day, And the snowman was focusing all of his attention on attacking a creeper. Admittedly all he was doing was impeding its progress and agitating it into hissing with each wet thump, but it was pretty intent on warding off the thing.
Kay pulled his blaster but all he needed was one shot- a blast of fire took care of the rest and left a decent sized hole in the ground.
"Well that's not good news. It's startin' to get dark." And that meant either they had to rush with what they had to a teleport point, or hold up in the shack for the night.
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"They've done some deciphering. We should be able to read some of these. If they've got something in one of these bottles I wouldn't be surprised."
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"Well, I hope we find out soon," she said conversationally.
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And the question was a genuine one. "Scanner still says its drinkable but it doesn't mean it'll still work and/or won't taste like ass."
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"Well. It may not be the very worst thing I've ever put in my mouth. I'm game if you are."
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Good enough for him.
"Let's go."
And off the porch he went, carrying what he had managed to grab that could be useful, rushing. He guessed they'd have a chance to see if it could stand up against the stronger flame soon.
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Una took a deep breath and drank her share of the potion as quickly as she could, wincing a little. She also grabbed as much as she could carry (while still having access to her gun) and hurried off after Kay.
She almost put her foot squarely in the fire hole that flared up a little further down the path and she leaped back instinctively. But where she should have been at least singed—nothing.
"I think it works!"
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He did hazard a glance back at that puttering little snowman as he started to jog. Poor little guy. Here was hoping he kept out of trouble.
OOC: Think that's a good note to end on?
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