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Throughout the house, the guests begin to wake, muddled by memories of a strange waking nightmare. Each has a small mark on their hands, as though they have been bitten by some small insect.
The door that appeared so strangely in the Parlour has vanished, fading with the dream, the Closets have returned once more to their normal state, no longer appearing to be anything but what they were. The clock sits comfortably at 2:00 PM, showing that only an hour has passed.
Life in the house returns to normal.
((ooc: Remember to feel free to backtag as much as you'd like, if you'd like to play with yesterday's event setting!))
The door that appeared so strangely in the Parlour has vanished, fading with the dream, the Closets have returned once more to their normal state, no longer appearing to be anything but what they were. The clock sits comfortably at 2:00 PM, showing that only an hour has passed.
Life in the house returns to normal.
((ooc: Remember to feel free to backtag as much as you'd like, if you'd like to play with yesterday's event setting!))
Just as suddenly as the door that once lead into the Closet Room changed an entry into the Planetarium, the room has changed once again. As an occupant ventures further and further into the room, the cold becomes even more drastic than before, especially to any Sensitive. Within a few minutes, it becomes painfully biting, breath clouding in front of their faces, barely visible in the darkness. The air is damp, and eventually the resident's feet wil step into something cold and wet-- snow has begun to cover the floor, sprinklings at first, until a faint breeze begins to scatter it. Soon the sound of wind grows, and snow can be seen drifting under one of the doors. When the door is opened, the light is almost blinding.
The sun, suddenly unfiltered, is painfully bright, reflecting off of the snow-covered ground. The air is crisp and fresh, clearer than any air the guests will have known since their arrival. There is a general sense of peace in the air, like they can, at long last, relax. Near the door, inexplicably standing without any walls surrounding it on the outside, is a set of tracks-- cloved foot prints, surely barely more than a few hours old. Strangely, there are only enough to account for two hooves.
No matter how far one travels, in any direction but following the hooves, nothing can be found. It is an expanse of barren snow and thick woods, eventually leading back to the door even if you never turned.
If the tracks are followed, leading into the cold wind, the scent of blood will reach them. Eventually, it becomes almost unbearable, until ash mixes on the breeze, the sky turning grey and the snow has begun to melt.
A wooden shack has been burned to the ground, and a small, mutilated body is among the ruins. Oddly enough, it looks like it could have been two bodies, but half of each is missing. The torso of a small man has been torn apart, its eyes and scalp removed. The lower half of the corpse is only two small, furred legs, clearly the source of the prints. They are too straight, like it should have walked upright, though the front legs are still missing.
There are no other prints in the snow.
( Warning for spiders in this part. )
The sun, suddenly unfiltered, is painfully bright, reflecting off of the snow-covered ground. The air is crisp and fresh, clearer than any air the guests will have known since their arrival. There is a general sense of peace in the air, like they can, at long last, relax. Near the door, inexplicably standing without any walls surrounding it on the outside, is a set of tracks-- cloved foot prints, surely barely more than a few hours old. Strangely, there are only enough to account for two hooves.
No matter how far one travels, in any direction but following the hooves, nothing can be found. It is an expanse of barren snow and thick woods, eventually leading back to the door even if you never turned.
If the tracks are followed, leading into the cold wind, the scent of blood will reach them. Eventually, it becomes almost unbearable, until ash mixes on the breeze, the sky turning grey and the snow has begun to melt.
A wooden shack has been burned to the ground, and a small, mutilated body is among the ruins. Oddly enough, it looks like it could have been two bodies, but half of each is missing. The torso of a small man has been torn apart, its eyes and scalp removed. The lower half of the corpse is only two small, furred legs, clearly the source of the prints. They are too straight, like it should have walked upright, though the front legs are still missing.
There are no other prints in the snow.
( Warning for spiders in this part. )
As the last chime of noon fades into silence, voices fill the house. They are familiar voices, known voices, speaking as though radios have come to life in every room in the house.
The voices of the captains discuss the need for a meeting to address the problems the houseguests are currently facing. They set a time and location for a meeting, and then the voices fade. There is no sign of the radios in any of the rooms, and many of the Militia leaders will hear their own voices making these decisions, despite having no part of the conversation. The guests will feel compelled to arrive in the Parlor at the appointed time, this compulsion is impossible to ignore and will seem completely natural to those experiencing it.
The house guests will find a welcome change, once they do arrive. Neatly stacked in the Parlor are small bags for each character, regardless of when they arrived. For those who have misplaced their things, these bags hold their personal possessions, weapons, and other effects. Their clothing remains missing, but they are at least armed again. The bags are very durable and easy to carry, perfectly sized to fit whatever they might need to survive the night. They are all identical. Nothing seems to be missing, but in each of the bags, one item of personal significance seems to have appeared. The form this item takes differs from character to character; it could be as simple as a photograph of their family, a candid moment of happiness that they barely remember. It could take the form of a letter, sent by a loved one and somehow finding its way into their hands. It could be a childhood toy, lost to the dust of years and suddenly appeared again. Regardless, each character has received some sort of gift. To those who have been selected for the event, another gift has been added. A simple key at the end of a brightly colored piece of ribbon, affixed to the ribbon is a note. The front of the note reads “You have been invited” in neat, gold leaf letters. On the back, another note has been added, scrawled in messy hand writing. “I can’t wait to see you.”
The puzzle pieces, formerly gathered by the house guests, sit in a pile on the coffee table, waiting for someone to assemble them.
There is no sign of the children, they have not been returned to the house.
In the basement, a door opens, admitting two men into the area outside the cells. Both are very clearly human, wearing white coats and seem tired. They are followed by a Phantasm, but the creature remains near the door, not coming close enough to frighten the children.
The sleeping girl sits up, holding a kitten tightly in her arms as she watches the men with wide eyes. The boy catches his ball, sitting perfectly still in his cell, though he makes no attempt to move away from the door.
ooc: assume that "Clothes" means anything that covers the legs, torso or head area. Shoes can be found, as can jewelery, but no coats, pants, hats, shirts, underwear, skirts, etc. can be.
The voices of the captains discuss the need for a meeting to address the problems the houseguests are currently facing. They set a time and location for a meeting, and then the voices fade. There is no sign of the radios in any of the rooms, and many of the Militia leaders will hear their own voices making these decisions, despite having no part of the conversation. The guests will feel compelled to arrive in the Parlor at the appointed time, this compulsion is impossible to ignore and will seem completely natural to those experiencing it.
The house guests will find a welcome change, once they do arrive. Neatly stacked in the Parlor are small bags for each character, regardless of when they arrived. For those who have misplaced their things, these bags hold their personal possessions, weapons, and other effects. Their clothing remains missing, but they are at least armed again. The bags are very durable and easy to carry, perfectly sized to fit whatever they might need to survive the night. They are all identical. Nothing seems to be missing, but in each of the bags, one item of personal significance seems to have appeared. The form this item takes differs from character to character; it could be as simple as a photograph of their family, a candid moment of happiness that they barely remember. It could take the form of a letter, sent by a loved one and somehow finding its way into their hands. It could be a childhood toy, lost to the dust of years and suddenly appeared again. Regardless, each character has received some sort of gift. To those who have been selected for the event, another gift has been added. A simple key at the end of a brightly colored piece of ribbon, affixed to the ribbon is a note. The front of the note reads “You have been invited” in neat, gold leaf letters. On the back, another note has been added, scrawled in messy hand writing. “I can’t wait to see you.”
The puzzle pieces, formerly gathered by the house guests, sit in a pile on the coffee table, waiting for someone to assemble them.
There is no sign of the children, they have not been returned to the house.
In the basement, a door opens, admitting two men into the area outside the cells. Both are very clearly human, wearing white coats and seem tired. They are followed by a Phantasm, but the creature remains near the door, not coming close enough to frighten the children.
The sleeping girl sits up, holding a kitten tightly in her arms as she watches the men with wide eyes. The boy catches his ball, sitting perfectly still in his cell, though he makes no attempt to move away from the door.
ooc: assume that "Clothes" means anything that covers the legs, torso or head area. Shoes can be found, as can jewelery, but no coats, pants, hats, shirts, underwear, skirts, etc. can be.
As the clock begins to chime, announcing the dawn, everyone in the house is struck by the overwhelming desire to sleep, regardless of ability.
They dream, seeing the house through a different set of eyes. The woman moves between them, eying their sleeping forms with curiosity, occasionally bending to investigate them. She is naked, wearing nothing aside from her hair, and smells of almonds.
She pads through the house, oddly balanced on the balls of her feet, exploring and investigating the unconscious forms. Many of the house guests, caught together in the dream, might even see themselves as she stalks through the sleeping bodies.
The girl from the bathroom steps into the hall, tears running silently down her cheeks and blood staining her hands, though the wounds seem to have healed. She does not move towards the woman, but she also makes no move to flee, trembling silently with the force of her quiet sobs.
“There now, kit, it’s not so bad.” Her target sighted, the woman comes to a stop, leaning until her cheek presses gently to the child’s, nuzzling and fussing over her like a mother dog tending to an injured pup, cleaning the tears and blood from her skin. She does not stop her gentle grooming until the child reaches for her. The girl wraps her arms around the woman’s neck, and the woman presses the slightly cleaner girl to her chest, not denying her the obviously needed comfort. “There now. Hush, kit, the night is done.”
The dream fades into another of a woman walking up a set of stairs. Her face cannot be seen, and the emotions the dreamers get from her are so deeply apathetic that it is difficult to care where she might be going.
The dream shifts as she slides a noose around her neck.
For just a moment, before the house guest wake, they find themselves dreaming of being held. Though they do not see the person holding them, the feeling of safety and love and the sense that someone they want very badly to see is there and protecting them while they sleep lingers long after they wake.
When they wake, they will find themselves stripped of all clothes and possessions, left dressed in a simple, unisex robe that was obviously meant to be one size fits most. Those smaller and larger than the average human may find it an awkward fit. Any injured house guest will find their wounds tended to, the healing advanced several days, and any bandages neatly and professionally changed.
Exploring the house, the guests will find that all clothes, blankets, curtains, wall hangings, table cloths and anything that might have been useful for covering themselves is gone. Their own items are nowhere to be found. The doors to the Sewing Room and the Supply Closet are both locked. They will not even find napkins on the tables. The bathrooms have piles of towels and fresh soap, but little else.
In the Study Lock begins to stir, wrapped in the coat the ghost guarding him wore.
Any person that did not already have a tattoo will now find the mark dark on their arm, impossible to remove no matter how hard they scrub. Any Sensitive who has paid close attention to the tattoo may find that more lines seem to have been added.
A glance through the windows will reveal that the snow is starting to melt away, yellow flowers poking through the crust as though welcoming the spring. The temperature in the house rests at comfortable, if a tiny bit chilly for those less covered than others. Something seems to have been investigating the house. Prints have been left around the house, too small to be any creature currently within, though they seem to belong to a small cat or dog. Tiny nose prints dot many of the windows, though an investigation reveals that the marks are on the outside of the glass.
Any who enter the Gardener’s Wing will find that the doors that had been locked now stand open, the rooms ready to be explored by anyone who might wish to enter.
The door that led to the Closets in the Maid Hallway now leads to something else entirely.
Planetarium:
This room has four doors, with each door leading between grand archways, reminiscent of a church. Though the room seems to be underground, the center of the room is round and railed. It is carefully separated from the main part of the room as though to protect the treasure hidden at its center. It seems as though someone has trapped a universe between the rails and the rounded ceiling and floor, the occasional planet spins free of the trap. Touching the planets gives you a feeling like an electric shock, and the stars will leave burns on your fingertips.
The ceilings are painted with intricate patterns of constellations taken from an alien sky, paling in comparison to the real thing nestled so innocently in the center of the room.
Only the North door is open, allowing the house guests to enter the room. The other three are solidly locked.
With everything that has started happening, it may take a little while to realize that something else is missing. Any child under the age of ten is no longer in the house, and there is no sign of where they might have been taken.
They dream, seeing the house through a different set of eyes. The woman moves between them, eying their sleeping forms with curiosity, occasionally bending to investigate them. She is naked, wearing nothing aside from her hair, and smells of almonds.
She pads through the house, oddly balanced on the balls of her feet, exploring and investigating the unconscious forms. Many of the house guests, caught together in the dream, might even see themselves as she stalks through the sleeping bodies.
The girl from the bathroom steps into the hall, tears running silently down her cheeks and blood staining her hands, though the wounds seem to have healed. She does not move towards the woman, but she also makes no move to flee, trembling silently with the force of her quiet sobs.
“There now, kit, it’s not so bad.” Her target sighted, the woman comes to a stop, leaning until her cheek presses gently to the child’s, nuzzling and fussing over her like a mother dog tending to an injured pup, cleaning the tears and blood from her skin. She does not stop her gentle grooming until the child reaches for her. The girl wraps her arms around the woman’s neck, and the woman presses the slightly cleaner girl to her chest, not denying her the obviously needed comfort. “There now. Hush, kit, the night is done.”
The dream fades into another of a woman walking up a set of stairs. Her face cannot be seen, and the emotions the dreamers get from her are so deeply apathetic that it is difficult to care where she might be going.
The dream shifts as she slides a noose around her neck.
For just a moment, before the house guest wake, they find themselves dreaming of being held. Though they do not see the person holding them, the feeling of safety and love and the sense that someone they want very badly to see is there and protecting them while they sleep lingers long after they wake.
When they wake, they will find themselves stripped of all clothes and possessions, left dressed in a simple, unisex robe that was obviously meant to be one size fits most. Those smaller and larger than the average human may find it an awkward fit. Any injured house guest will find their wounds tended to, the healing advanced several days, and any bandages neatly and professionally changed.
Exploring the house, the guests will find that all clothes, blankets, curtains, wall hangings, table cloths and anything that might have been useful for covering themselves is gone. Their own items are nowhere to be found. The doors to the Sewing Room and the Supply Closet are both locked. They will not even find napkins on the tables. The bathrooms have piles of towels and fresh soap, but little else.
In the Study Lock begins to stir, wrapped in the coat the ghost guarding him wore.
Any person that did not already have a tattoo will now find the mark dark on their arm, impossible to remove no matter how hard they scrub. Any Sensitive who has paid close attention to the tattoo may find that more lines seem to have been added.
A glance through the windows will reveal that the snow is starting to melt away, yellow flowers poking through the crust as though welcoming the spring. The temperature in the house rests at comfortable, if a tiny bit chilly for those less covered than others. Something seems to have been investigating the house. Prints have been left around the house, too small to be any creature currently within, though they seem to belong to a small cat or dog. Tiny nose prints dot many of the windows, though an investigation reveals that the marks are on the outside of the glass.
Any who enter the Gardener’s Wing will find that the doors that had been locked now stand open, the rooms ready to be explored by anyone who might wish to enter.
The door that led to the Closets in the Maid Hallway now leads to something else entirely.
Planetarium:
This room has four doors, with each door leading between grand archways, reminiscent of a church. Though the room seems to be underground, the center of the room is round and railed. It is carefully separated from the main part of the room as though to protect the treasure hidden at its center. It seems as though someone has trapped a universe between the rails and the rounded ceiling and floor, the occasional planet spins free of the trap. Touching the planets gives you a feeling like an electric shock, and the stars will leave burns on your fingertips.
The ceilings are painted with intricate patterns of constellations taken from an alien sky, paling in comparison to the real thing nestled so innocently in the center of the room.
Only the North door is open, allowing the house guests to enter the room. The other three are solidly locked.
With everything that has started happening, it may take a little while to realize that something else is missing. Any child under the age of ten is no longer in the house, and there is no sign of where they might have been taken.
