Deer Country Network

Hi, everybody. A couple of announcements. Uh, first...

[Vyng — an androgynous Sleeper with angular, elven features and wild, wavy gray hair — appears in public for...the first time in awhile, actually. But it’s time to rip the bandage off. He takes a quiet breath.]

Tuck is—

[He swallows. And continues in a quiet tone:]

Tuck's gone out to sea. The two of us were — are — pretty much married, so. If anybody has any loose ends or. Or unfinished business to tie up with him? Let me know. I’ll help however I can.

[There’s a wet sheen to Vyng’s eyes, but his expression is otherwise calm and collected. He and grief are bedfellows these days. He’s accepting it, even if he's privately having trouble settling in with the fact he's a single dad now.]

What's the second thing, you ask? Here, I made a thing—

[He flashes through a series of hand-drawn cards in fancy lettering:
]


> 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐊? ☹️

> 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄? 🤷‍♀️

> 🌈 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐄, 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒?


(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄! ♥


> 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 ☀️

> 𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒 🎩



> 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆? 👀 👀 👀

[Vyng haphazardly tosses the cards over his shoulder and gives a jaunty salute. A silly way to end his message, but...given the circumstances, maybe that’s the point. The feed suddenly ends.]

[ It's been months since Jon Sims was on the network, and this time, he's in the frame alone. The alleviation of Corruption couldn't come a moment too soon for this guy, apparently: he still has the haggard, hollowed-out look of a man who hasn't had a real meal in months. There's something profoundly unsettling about his eyes, which are too deep and too green. He never seems to blink. ]

Good afternoon. My name is Jonathan Sims. I am a researcher of what might be called 'the paranormal,' and... a survivor of the place known as Deerington. I've been working with several others to maintain an archive of topics and artifacts relevant to Sleepers, kept beyond the control of the Pthumerian Never Mind.

[ He doesn't even try to mask his distrust: he clearly isn't a fan of the patrons. ]

We are developing a secure location to the north of Trench, though [ impatiently ] I cannot recommend visiting without the use of traveling Lamps. The walk back to town is... not ideal.

More to the point, I am making a request for information. [ This is where he gets cagey, tense in the way of a man hiding something. ] The Archive is now undertaking an effort to create a comprehensive catalogue— a bestiary, I suppose— of recurring threats in Trench. If you have had a particularly upsetting or perilous experience with any being in this city, we would like the written record of your experience. Please submit accounts via text to this network address.

[ It's the second time he's hit the network to ask for personal stories. Those who respond might find themselves writing (or speaking) more freely than they planned to, flashing back to the memory in detail— though in this low-Corruption month, the effect isn't too intense. ]

Thank you.

[Jun has his head resting against his fist, looking bored and unamused.]

All right, all right. We all saw that other post. How many of us are under fifteen, then?

Or were under fifteen when you were brought here, I know that some people have been here a while.

Is anybody else here older than 100?

[ When the feed starts, it’s at a bit of an awkward angle, a teenage boy half-staring at the camera, but still clearly fiddling with the Omni itself. At least he does seem kind of aware he turned it on, since he mumbles: ]

So you send a message this way..?

[ In fact, if you look, the teenage boy may look faintly familiar - just a few decades younger than people who know Daniel may be used to. But that sure is Daniel LaRusso as a teenager, seemingly trying to figure out the Omni– though he doesn’t get too far with it before he is suddenly lifted up by a dashing, handsome young lad in a red leather jacket with a distinct cobra design on the back of it, making Daniel drop the Omni as he’s startled by it. But just as quickly as he is lifted up, the boy turns and dumps the other kid in a steel trash bin. There’s a lot of banging, clattering and shouting that gets cut off as the blonde boy puts the lid on it and holds it down with one arm.]

What the hell was that loser doing anyways?

[Teen Johnny then steps away from the trash bin before suddenly pushing forward and shoving it down. There’s a crash and off camera it sounds like the can is rolling down a hill. Johnny steps back and notices the camera rolling. He smiles an 80’s heartthrob smile and fires finger guns at the camera.]

Hey babes.

Johnny Lawrence here, Ace Degenerate.

Me and LaRusso here are throwing a badass party once we find a place to host it. He’s a dweeb, I know, but trust me. I’ll make sure it’s awesome. It’s going to blow that other big party out of the water.

[ There’s a suspicious sound in the background, if you can hear it over Johnny Lawrence chewing up the scenery over here. Something akin to more clattering, and then a rush of footsteps. ]

Be there or be squa–

[ Unfortunately Johnny doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because Daniel suddenly runs back into the frame, tackling the blonde straight to the ground– and onto the Omni, meaning the feed cuts out. ]

I have a request.

Well, a lot of requests. Tiny requests, for lots of people. Not necessarily just tiny people, though — tiny, tall, whatever. That is to say...any people can help. If you're a people? And you're a help? I would greatly appreciate that.

[From off screen, a voice that sounds like Tuck can be heard stage-whispering: "Tell them WHY..." ]

—Oh, right.

[Vyng clears his throat and puts on a pair of tiny-rimmed glasses to make himself at least a little dignified, and he continues.]



. . . You see, Sleepers. There is an artifact of...uh, great personal importance to myself. A relic, if you will, that bears the name of my Druidic family.

But a local has taken stewardship over this relic o' mine. They have offered to relinquish this relic into my custody — but! For a price. Namely, this list of assorted items that I'm attaching at the end of my message.

[With a quiet "this one, right here", he literally places a piece of paper over the camera. "Too close?" Vyng pulls the paper back. He holds it there for awhile. If anybody looks, they can make out the following list:]

( DONATIONS NEEDED, PLEASE & THANK YOU )

[From behind the paper, Vyng asks:]

How long do I have to keep holding this?

[. . . ]

Is this good? I think it's good.

[Eventually, though, a digital copy is included at the tail of this message, with a tiny handwritten note at the bottom:]

⅁N⅄Λ - oxox ¡¡ǝɔuɐʌpɐ uı ⅄⊥
ＴＹ 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝒹𝓋𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 ♥
x0xo - 𝓥𝔂𝓷𝓰

( major spoilers for Nona the Ninth )

[ The world around Tuck and Billie is dark, gloomy, and full of dust. The bar they are in, Colonel Dan's, has seen better days. Tables have been overturned, something's been in here making a mess despite the magic that was imbued into the door. Guess it didn't hold. ]

So, who wants to help Billie n' me clean out our bar? That we, ah, never used.

[ Tuck does his best to make it sound like the most riveting fucking thing a person could volunteer for. ]

We'll pay you in... uh...

[ He looks down at Billie who is currently out of camera view. Hard to put both a two foot child in the same frame with a seven foot man. ]

Friendship? Oh, booze!

Either, or. Whichever turns out to be of equal or lesser value.

[ From the dark, something falls off the bar counter and breaks. Then skittering claws scuttle across the floor. ]

There's someone else in here.

... ..... So, who wants to help Billie n' me chase a mystery creature out of our bar? Ehhh? Could be fun—Oh fuuuck! It touched my leg!

Is this thing on?

[ The camera opens on a man, but there is something horribly inhuman about his eyes: they are black from edge to edge, the iris burning with a ring of white light. He is flanked by two skeletons which stand at attention, each with a speck of glowing red in their shadowed eye sockets. ]

Been a while since I had to do this. Hey, hello, kia ora. You face the King Undying, the Necrolord Prime.

( cw: mild body horror (corruption); religious themes; topics of mass death, violent imperialism, human sacrifice likely )

[ A familiar song starts up, and the video opens to reveal a lone young woman, dancing in an abandoned warehouse. The cots on the floor only add to the ambiance. ]

Hey, what’s up, Trench? [ The dancing continues. ] This is a callout post for John Gaius. You might know him? Shit sense of humor, black eyes, calls himself Teacher. He fucked over the ocean, recently. Hard to miss.

( cw: mentions of child death, extinction events, gaslighting, abuse, locked tomb spoilers )

[Every morning when Billie wakes up, he sifts through his memories to make sure they're still all there, and greets them with a 'good morning, memories!' It's a perfectly normal daily ritual.

None of them seem to be missing as far as he can tell, but as Wicker peers over his shoulder, with her paws pressed against his back, she begins a broadcast to the network.

Billie is leaned back in a chair, being treated to a facial at a luxurious spa. He peels a cucumber off of one of his eyes, gives it an experimental lick before popping it into his mouth. The second one quickly follows suit. He was expecting pudding from the look of the treatments around him, and while cucumbers are not pudding, he supposes they'll do. Around him, there are several pools for soaking in and relaxing, people receiving different kinds of skin treatments and massages, and playing on pinball machines.

He glances over at Vyng, receiving a facial of his own from one of the other attendants and chatting away about his life story, and bragging about the boy. 'That's my friend over there. That's my good buddy kid.'

In the pool, Tuck is engaged in a chicken fight. Another man is perched on his shoulders, and they're facing off against two women, an orc and a human, none of four are wearing anything at all, but at least Tuck and the orc are partially hidden by the warm water. It's not just the pair on top who are shoving each other, though, Tuck and the orc seem to be engaged in a boxing match until finally Tuck slugs her right in the jaw, and his partner manages to push them down as he bellows something that's probably completely unrelated. 'You think just because Terry's your stepdad, he's your real dad? I DON'T THINK SO! I'M YOUR DAD!'

The man roars in triumph and throws his arms in the air. He looks like he's on the verge of tears, he's so happy, and he shouts again. 'I'M YOUR DAD!'

Billie shouts back, 'YOU'RE MY DAD!' Really, he's shouting to Tuck not the stranger, but he's laughing like he's having the time of his life. The video fades to static and cuts out as the rest of the patrons begin to chime in with a chant of, 'Dad! Dad! Dad!'

The boy shakes his head and glances over his shoulder at his Omen.]

Whoa... That was weird. What was that?

[ it's a dark and — well it's just a dark month and ahiru never really functions well in the dark. she gets spooked easily which is sort of what happens here. a sequence of events, by a duck.

1. she enters the kitchen. the lights are off and she bumps into various furniture. ]

Ow ow ow ow —

[ 2. her hand brushes against a coat hanging on top of a chair. in her mind, she imagines a snake.

3. She panics and lets out a loud: ]

Quack!

[ 4. ahiru ends up turning into a duck on screen. gasp! not that she has realized she's being recorded.

5. she quickly waddles off and there's the sound of water and she comes back into the kitchen with a relief. ]

— Phew that was clo . . . ooooose, O-Odette! Were you displaying this the whole time?! A-Ah!!

[ ahiru immediately runs in front of the feed, waving her hands frantically. ]

You didn't see that! There's nothing to see! It was . . . uh, uh, a MYSTERY DUCK that broke into the house but it's gone now!

[ alas, ahiru has been well and truly outed as . . . a duck. ]

[ there's a house covered in toilet paper with a very tired jedi standing in front of it, just massaging his temple. ]

Is there a reason why my house is covered in paper? I assume there is a purpose to this other than a gross misuse of resources and time. If you have any issues with me, I much prefer a discussion than a clean up job.

[ he swats some of the butterflies away before sighing. ]

I'll be here. Tidying up.

[ Starring: Tuck, Vyng, Billie ]

Hey. Hey! LOOK OVER HERE, EVERYBODY!

[ Great! Now that he has your attention, he gets to the point of this commercial interruption. ]

I have, uh, something to say to all of you. [ The large man unfolds a piece of paper and begins reading from it. ]

Amara, not Laura,
You are my destiny,
A mysterious mistress fated to me—Ah fuck, wrong piece!

[ He is already floundering twenty seconds in, but Vyng, the wild haired half-elf standing beside him hands over another cue card.

"Here you go, buddy," he offers. ]

Thanks. Um, "This is our son Fat Billie." [ You better believe these lines are spoken as woodenly as possible. ] "Say hi Billie."

[ After an awkward beat, Tuck squats down and picks up his round little halfling son, covered in his usual raccoon skin to hide his ginger hair. In Tuck's giant hand he looks the size of a basketball.

"Hi Billie!" the little boy greets, hands covered in something like gravy or chocolate.

Behind him, Vyng laughs. "Nice." ]

"He needs someone like you [ And then Tuck pantomimes to the video screen, pointing stiffly to his audience. ] to be his friend! Come—" uh, "Come eat lunch! Take afternoon naps! Eat more food!" Uhm, "Pet cats!

"If this sounds good to you, please apply!" Oh, but no nerds, though! Or adults! Like 18 year olds tops!

[ "Yeah, don't make this creepy," Vyng adds with a judging eye. ]

Yeah, don't be fucking gross, old people! He's a child!

[ "So, no nerds, don't be creep-os, must love gravy! If this sounds like you, like and subscribe!" Vyng points down to the bottom of the screen, which Tuck does not get. ]

Are you pointing at your dick? Point to Billie!!

[ He takes one of his friend's hands and points it at their fat little son.

"Now like and subscribe!" ]

[ Terry's wearing his Cobra Kai gi, his hair tied back neatly in a ponytail. He looks neat and sharp, and so do his surroundings. There isn't a single particle of dust in sight, but there are enough personal touches - a slightly tilted photograph in a frame, an opened bottle of wine on the shelf - that it's not too mechanical. He's approachable, he's friendly, he knows how to market himself. ]

I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Terry Silver, also with the Cobra Kai dojo. I see Sensei Lawrence has already made quite the introduction.

[ Derogatory. The neutral and abrupt tone with which he says it is perhaps more biting than any sneering or snarking could be. ]

My style differs from his [ It's way, way better is what he means. ] so I'd also like to extend an open invitation for any students interested in learning karate who might prefer my approach. This won't conflict with Sensei Lawrence's classes at all. The more the merrier, I always say.

[ He absolutely intends to create conflict with Johnny's classes. ]

My personal approach emphasizes the psychological elements of fighting as much as the physical. That doesn't mean my training regimen is any less intense, we'll just be adding some extra elements of strategy into the mix.

There is no initiation test in my dojo; it's my job to make sure you succeed regardless of where you start. Willingness to show up and commit is proof enough for me.

I'd especially like to invite anyone who is interested in learning but worries that they may not be strong enough, anyone who needs help facing their fears, and anyone who has been a victim of bullying. [ You know, if you've ever been bullied by people like Johnny Lawrence. ] Of course, I will gladly welcome anyone who is interested in my methods, those are just examples of students I've excelled with in the past.

[The feed opens up to a crooked shot of a building that screams abandoned warehouse vibes. Out of frame is a man in a black karate gi standing next to a grandfather clock with the words "Professor Dongspin" written on it in green paint.]

Now I just got here but I've been seen a lot of talk about free fighting lessons. But we all know that in life you get what you pay for.

You want to really kick the competition? Then you need to get your ass down to Cobra Kai.

Screw that weird ass fairy tale bullshit. Learn from someone who drinks raw eggs, not pansy ass hot chocolate.

You'll learn bone crunching, face smashing, all American Karate. For the reasonable price of your blood, sweat and tears.

We're not going to be doing any self-defense, It's time to learn self-offense.

Don't be a pussy. Join Cobra Kai and let me teach you the way of the fist.

[And then leaps into the air and delivers a spinning kick into the grandfather clock which collapses and smashes against the ground.

The feed cuts out shortly after.]