Deer Country Network

[sansa is once again on her couch with lady and her large direwolf-and-weirwood leaf tapestry. she wears a charcoal linen dress embroidered with ravens and her feathered collar with direwolf caps from madame generosity, her needle necklace tucked in the elaborate chatelaine hanging from her wide leather belt. lady wears a matching collar and stretches into sansa's lap, huffing reassuringly.]

Hallo, this is Sansa Stark. Many of you know by now Sasuke and Sakura have returned to the sea in the hopes of having children.

[they were very certain they were going back to their world, sansa thinks it's equally likely they'll end up hatching baby cephalopods.]

I promised them the Sanctuary will keep the Wellness Center in Darcmouth open. If anyone else should like to work there, we would be grateful for their assistance. I also intend to provide space for Night Walkers to provide different modes of therapy, such as talking and making art, that anyone of any age might find helpful.

[it's been largely down to word of mouth for local parents and young sleepers to find age-appropriate therapy, and sansa intends to provide a permanent location for night walkers to provide these services.]

We should have the Wellness Center back open within the fortnight. Of course it is difficult to do anything at all in Darcmouth with the lanterns as they are. I imagine it is Riteoir's influence preventing the patrons from repairing them, but if it persists I should be glad to speak to The Tower myself.

[she smiles faintly and sadly.]

Sasuke also wanted everyone to know that his dojo remains open to any that might like to use it.

private to Sanctuary and Painted Turtle Clinic staff

I thought it might be nice if we met to discuss our plans for the Wellness Center in its hot pools. If anyone doesn't have your waterproof robes from the Wakers, I should be glad to find you new ones.

private to Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen

Greetings, Lords Guangyao and Xichen, it is my honor to offer you the use of Sasuke's dojo for lessons in the cultivation and use of qi. I know that not everyone may achieve mastery by your methods, but there may be techniques that can aid them in learning to use their own magic more effectively. I hope that you and Li meimei are well, and I look forward to discussing this matter at your convenience.

[two brief messages appear on the network--the first one is unlocked and open to anyone with network access.]

Greetings.

I have recently come into possession of a small songbird and am seeking any verifiable information about how best to care for it. Releasing it is regrettably not an option.

[embedded below is a photograph of a small black bird characterized by a splash of orange colour on the underside of its tail feathers; in the picture, the little bird is perching on the back of a folding chair in what looks like a walled garden.]

After perusing the network I believe the species to be a black oriole (oriolus hosii).

I am most appreciative of any assistance you might be able to offer. This is a small matter, but an important one, for me.

Kind regards,

金光瑶
Jin Guangyao

[the second message is locked to a far smaller audience; the recipients are Lan Xichen, Shen Yuan, and Mike Enslin.]

I have confirmed with the staff of the Red that Huaisang is gone, and have been to his room to gather what possessions he left behind before he disappeared from Trench. The bird was his; it seems content enough in the siheyuan courtyard for the moment.

[text communicates remarkably little sentiment, for which he is grateful; he can't decide how he feels about this.]

[ Luna is... looking a little overwhelmed, although it might be hard to determine considering she's usually so wide-eyed all the time. But it does look like there's honestly too much going on all at once. The poor girl is a bit over-stimulated with the latest round of blood effects. Her senses are in overdrive, and just... so terribly confused right now. ]

How do I make a room that's silent—? Like from the outside? So I don't hear what's going on outside? Or perhaps someone has some very powerful ear-plugs? That might be a bit more convenient for going about outside, really...

[ She trails off for a long moment before she grimaces a little and then continues: ]

Something is... not quite right. Sometimes it's fine and then everything just goes... weird. Things... taste. And feel. When I shouldn't be able to taste or feel them in the first place. I just keep getting all these tastes in my mouth and they won't stop. [ Eating has been a nightmare the last few days. ]

It's... like I know what people taste like. And feel like.

[ Because that doesn't sound absolutely horrifying in the slightest. ]

This... is a blood thing, isn't it? I'm a Paleblood, if that helps. It must be a blood thing. Is... anyone else having this issue?

ooc: pls feel free to drop hints as to what character voices may taste like or physically feel like in ur tags. or I could just make something up for them.

Good morning, everyone. I hope your February was relatively pleasant and uneventful!

The purpose of this post is to share information about the climate and odd events that happened last March, in order to help newcomers better prepare for the coming month. If you believe the information contained herein is inaccurate or incomplete in any way, please let us know in the comments below. Thank you!

March is the first month in the Season of Tears, or the Trenchian Spring. Because of this we can expect a sudden and calamitous thaw in the first week of the month, where all or nearly all of the snow will disappear and be replaced by explosive plant growth. I was unable to find any references to a flood in network posts published during this period last year, but it seems prudent to be on our guard nonetheless. Outreach still has a few sandbags left over from managing the snow, so if you are concerned with keeping your home or place of business safe please contact us! Additionally the Pthumerian called Moon Presence is known to be active during this month, and it may be possible to hear her weeping or singing over the sound of water. As she is not known to be hostile to Sleepers, it's probably safe to ignore her, so long as you do so respectfully.

The same unfortunately cannot be said of the Moss King! This Patron Pthumerian is associated with the month of March, and his portfolio includes unconquered nature, prophecy, precognition, and games of chance. Because of this the people local to Trench honor him by holding carnival games on the boardwalk during March, but with a sadistic twist: last year new Sleepers were required to play these games in order to obtain their welcoming bags and other objects from home. It's also mentioned in A Survivor's Guide to the Unknowns of Trench (multiple authors, can be checked out from the Archive for further perusal) that these games are haunted by a female-presenting Pthumerian, dubbed "the Lady of Luck" by the authors, who is able to pull Sleepers into more difficult and frequently bloody challenges through the issuance of tarot cards. These challenges vary from to year to year, but as the Lady is most frequently encountered on the board week it seems possible that she might be avoided by likewise refusing to take part in these games. If anyone has more information on this topic I once again entreat them to leave a comment below.

The Moss King himself also took part in the "fun" last year: it seems that he either built or obtained a "summer home," and took it upon himself to invite Sleepers to visit him therein. These invitations took the form of enchanted letter bombs with caused instantaneous and complete immolation upon opening; networks posts written at the time are clear that this process was very painful, although it did end in teleportation to the grounds of the house instead of death. Sleepers who braved the house were able to obtain powerful items from their homeworlds; I leave it up to the individual to determine whether this process was worth the pain involved or not.

Finally, a number of Sleepers have reported violent and disturbing encounters with a boardgame called Jumanji; this game possesses reality-warping powers, and pulled Sleepers into a sort of "pocket dimension" where they were forced to pass various challenges in order to escape. The game is clearly labeled as such, and I must suggest in the strongest possible terms that any Sleepers who encounter it both avoid it carefully and report its location to the network. To those who are familiar with the movies: I know it sounds fake, but just because it's a piece of fiction in other worlds doesn't mean it's not dangerous here. If you have trouble believing that, then I suggest you take it up with the Pthumerians, or possibly the Jedi and Sith. I'd be very interested to learn how that goes for you.

I bid a warm greeting to everyone in leu of winter's chill. For those I have not been acquainted with, my name is Lan Xichen and I am a cultivator from the Lan Sect back home.

I have two orders of business I should like to square away.

First and foremost, after getting settled in this world and growing accustomed to its culture and considerable technological advancements, I should very much like to take up teaching musical cultivation once more.

If that is a term you are unfamiliar with, permit me to elaborate; cultivators are practitioners of martial and mystical arts, cultivating spiritual energy - also called qi - in order to form a spiritual core. My sect practices these arts specifically through use of musical instruments.

I am curious if there would be any interest among the people here in studying such arts? Even if one has no interest in the martial and spiritual aspect or is too old to begin forming a core, one could gain a greater understanding of music and learn to play an instrument such as the guqin or the xiao.


The second matter is a request to fellow hunters. When it comes to the hunting of beasts that cannot be brought back from their transformation, it is of utmost importance that they are slain in ways that minimize blood pollution - I do not doubt we are all in agreement on this, yes?

I would be interested in exchanging methods of quick and bloodless slaughter with fellow hunters. And I must place emphasis on quick. Whatever danger these creatures pose, and whether or not they were once people - there is no sense in dragging out their suffering.

[Rose looks perturbed, chewing on her lower lip]

I...realize that we all have our concerns right now, but I was--well, I was hoping for assistance?

Valentine's Day is quickly approaching and I want to do something really special for Snow now that we're together. Something beyond the usual flowers and chocolates and cards, although she'll get all three from me.

But of course this depends on whatever we're being put through this month. I'd still like to find some way to make it special. [and her expression turns stern] And if The Doorway chooses to do something truly awful to us, I'll never forgive them!

[and back to smiling!]

In any case, I appreciate your assistance and your ideas most of all. Thank you.

[jin guangyao prefers to limit his engagement with the network, but occasionally needs must when the devil drives, or however that idiom goes. anyway here he is.]

Greetings. I am called Jin Guangyao.

[k off to a solid start, where u headed next]

I have come to understand that lockjoint is a seasonal malady that any of us may experience, though using one's unique blood powers may increase the likelihood of developing the condition. If I am interpreting the recommendations described in The Sleeper Condition correctly, while there is no cure for lockjoint, keeping warm nevertheless reduces the severity of mild to moderate symptoms.

As a cultivator, I am capable of creating paper talismans which, when activated by spiritual power, can generate warmth for a limited period of time. I have already had success modifying these talismans so that a Sleeper's blood capabilities should be a sufficient replacement for a cultivator's qi when activating the talismans. However, to be effective, a talisman's runes must be written either in cinnabar or blood. I am reluctant to make extensive use of the latter resource as, even if the risk posed by extensive bloodletting for this purpose was not high, blood is not an unlimited resource.

[because if you let blood from someone long enough, they'll run out of blood and die! hah hah! a little joke. anyway,]

I am willing to create a substantial number of these warming talismans for use by the residents of Trench in exchange for assistance sourcing cinnabar, or a functional alternative, in sufficient quantities to make the work sustainable. If you are willing to provide support, please respond to this post so that we may discuss the specifics in more detail.

[She’s been here for over a week now. Time to get the lay of the land. The video opens up to a particularly tall blonde woman with a golden skeletal arm and a smirk. She's here to cause problems on purpose.]

Greetings, hello, salutations. My name is Ianthe Naberius. I’m new in town, twenty two, a princess of Ida, unfortunately single and dreadfully bored!

Now, I come to you today, not only to introduce myself, but to ask something of all of you.

Who do you hate most in Trench and why? I’m trying to meet people, network, but it’s so hard and overwhelmingly positive! So consider this an open invitation. Warn me about that dangerous scoundrel who kicked your puppy, seethe about how much you despise me for whatever reason, tell me about your parasocial hateful fixation on one of the local divinity. It can be a minor slight you want to complain about, a friend of yours who owes you two perfectly intact human skulls, or it can be an actual danger to this lovely little community of ours.

Now, before you try to say “this is childish and stupid!” You’re absolutely right, but it is a necessary part of self care to allow oneself to be an absolute cunt once in a while. [Or all the time, if your name is Ianthe.] So let’s not make any grand claims to being above something like this, mm?

Feel free to use the anonymity feature. Or the privacy feature, I guess, if you’re shy or worried about being fileted like a fish.

[Good day, Trench, and welcome to... whatever this is going to be. Here is one Palamedes, sitting at his desk in what may be broadly recognizable as his office in the Sanctuary, whether or not one has been in it before (it has, these days, a distressing worm-on-a-string curtain in place of a door). Palamedes shuffles through some papers, tsks, and gets up to simply walk off screen, although this is not an accidental post, for he does call back:]

Damn my filing system! Hold on, don't look away.

[So now: the sounds of shuffling, and also, footsteps on a ladder? Then the eventual soft thump as he hops back down, and finally his several layered cardigans masquerading as a torso coming back into view, before he sits back down in the chair with a hearty squeak of rusty metal.

He has even more papers now. A small pile of notebooks, actually, which he folds his hands atop before properly regarding the camera.]

So! I wrote a book. Are any of you in the publishing business? Here, locally, or otherwise? My wheelhouse is firmly the academic, and literature— while a passion project— is a field I know far less about. As such: publishing. Any tips welcome.

I am also in the market for some cover art, I think. My artistic talents leave a lot to be desired, but I've produced some helpful mock-ups, somewhere around here...

[Just kidding they're right here ready and waiting, and so he holds them up side by side:

( cut for Incredible Artwork )

...So, yes. His handwriting is, of course, perfectly legible.]

Like I said: I'm an academic, not an artist. I'll pay you in whatever you like, blood or stone or- [and he leans briefly off camera again, to mutter, then he's back] -or scones! Good ones, for people into that kind of thing.

[Yahoo... Draw him a horny squidmance cover page... This is ordinary.]

Obviously, children need not apply.

Oh, and the working title is Ceasefire of the Senses: A Treatise on the Juxtaposition of Passion and Reason, unless you happen to be my cruelest critic and dearest spouse, love of my life, in which case "that title is ridiculous" and it's actually called "that story in your fifty notebooks." Regardless.

[He pats the pile of notebooks, like, his title is good actually? This might be a thinly veiled opinion poll about the title.]

And as it's the season, again, if anyone needs a professional hand with their lockjoint, come down to the Lumenarium- or Sanctuary- and ask for Palamedes. I'll take care of it with a silk touch; you get to keep the stones. Drawings of squids entirely voluntary for that one.

i: VIDEO PRIVATE to eden

[There's a saga before this that isn't broadcasted to the network at large, but only to Eden via drone: Mike's abduction on the way into Crenshaw, his bout of unconsciousness - the horror of waking, mouth stitched shut, in not quite unfamliar, bloody, hostile territory, clad only in a dull, red jumpsuit - the further horror of realizing he's chained to what amounts to nothing more than the headless upper half of what had once been a Sleeper. It's possible she's seen who and what their fate was. It's also possible she hasn't.

It's the standoff in the Sleeper Farm - floor after floor of dragging the remains of another Sleeper with him, up and up - even when his blood is functional enough he could be rid of the gory baggage he doesn't shed it - that would, in effect, be leaving a man behind, and what kind of thing is that to do? By the end of it, it's become a grudge. And by the time he's in front of that statue, all manner of organs in its hands, he gently unshackles his companion, and then himself, before stomping on the chains until they're no longer chains, but a mess of old wires that disintegrate into nothing but stains on the floor.

His endless rageful shouting - the stitches are long gone, left an aftertaste of ash that's as unwelcome as the rest of this, maybe even moreso.]

Del, to everyone!

ii: VIDEO PUBLIC: omen: username: TENSKULLS/MIKE ENSLIN

[His Omen is not instructed to contain the broadcast to the small circle Mike intends to ask, so she opens the line of communication to all of Trench instead. Mike may have meant "everyone" in the "Sword Wizards and Mike" way, but Delmira obeys in the literal sense.

Mike's blood and its monthly bonus of excitability is doing the Zealots no favors once he's up here. They're glitching as fast as they're moving, somehow they're not close enough to attack, they're never accurate enough, and then they're behind a bubble that's rendered them a slow motion haze, confused and barely audible through it, while he sits on a summoned chair, a growing pile of shirts at his feet that shows no signs of slowing. Every shirt is wrong. Wrong pattern, wrong color, wrong cut. That's a fucking video tape and:]

That is the wrong fucking thread count!! GOD DAMNIT!!!

[He is now screaming (nearly unintelligibly) I want!! MY SHIRT!! with the exact same vibe he'd once screamed as he attacked a mini fridge. If counted, it takes four hundred and ninety nine shirts to get the correct shirt back. And not that he's paying any mind at all to the Zealots besides hurling words:]

You circus freaks are either going to help me find it or you can fuck right off!!! I'm DONE!

[Wrong shirt.]

Why don't you close your eyes, imagine yourself being actually fucking scary, and then open them and weep, you ASSCLOWN!!!

[Two wrong shirts, but closer to anyone who knows the shirt.]

That was my lucky shirt! I was on my way to WORK, you fermented ball sack! My friends gave me that!! Like you know what friends are with that face! Clive Barker called, he wants his whole thing back!

I'm gonna kick you in the dick so hard your vertebrae pop out like a goddamn Pez Dispenser!!

[Not a shirt, but that's a rain of vertebrae shooting across the backdrop if one chooses to look. Mike doesn't - he's too busy yelling.

Shirts flicker out of existence as new ones appear in his hands, and when that last one comes, he goes quiet as he examines it, the flurry and whirl of bloodmad monstrosities outside his shield growing hazier still. He looks up at the statue with a cold calm, his hands clenching and then releasing the fabric, somehow angrier now that he's bunched it up. So he holds it gently now as the wall he'd conjured flickers, fades, and reveals a floor emptied of Zealots - just that statue and its organ offerings. Its blood.

Before he's able to make any further move, there's a pale, pulsing glow that replaces the fading bubble, a pearlescent shimmer as Moon Presence ends this scene just shy of sacrifice, and he's suddenly in his small, messy room at the Sanguine Station, (standing in front of a whole wall of photographs - daughter, wife, brother, various combinations - in most of which his own face is blurry) - holding a bloodied hawaiian shirt - the very same he'd donned for his first day at his new job - which he has now missed.

He looks down at his omen, the screen, blinking. Delmira blinks back, and shuts her eyes, so it's only Mike's voice that asks, after a pause:]

iii: VOICE PUBLIC: omen: username: TENSKULLS/MIKE ENSLIN

How the fuck do I get blood out of a good shirt?

[The video turns on and it's Maul, using his omen Venge to broadcast it. He looks serious like he's about to talk to Trench about a topic of great importance.]

For those unaware, this is the time of year when the Pthumerian or half-Pthumerian known as Santa Claus comes to Trench towards the end of the month. He can shift into many forms to fit into your home but most often looks like this.

[Venge, his Omen, turns to look at the picture that has been sketched of a fairly traditional 21st century Santa Maul has set up next to him. Yes, this presentation comes with pictures, all made by Maul himself]

Santa is one of the more benevolent Pthumerians though he is possessed of much stealth and cunning, making it difficult for people to interact with him. He is associated with deer as Sodder was but his chosen favored deer are reindeer. He uses his powers to make them fly.

[Another picture, this time showing the team of flying reindeer that looks like it was copied from an illustration of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas. This one is a little rougher, especially the reindeer, for drawing animals isn't Maul's forte.]

He loves the scent of pine and prefers if there are wreaths or full trees made of them left in the home when he visits. Those who leave him offerings of food and drink he will reward with presents. The offerings can be small such as this.

[Again, another picture showing a glass of milk and plate of cookies are shown with an equal sign followed by a small stack of presents underneath a Christmas tree that has been decorated rather....oddly with things like animal skulls and black ornaments on it.]

But he also accepts larger offerings if you wish for larger gifts. There appears to be no known way to prevent him from entering your homes but he doesn't appear to seem interested in causing harm to people, even those who fail to provide him hospitality. I have yet to run into him personally the past two years, but if anyone sees him, please let me know. I wish to test my fighting skills against him.

[.............Yes, Darth Maul just said he wants to fight Santa Claus. Will wonders never cease?]

[Johnny's letters have put her in a melancholy mood, wondering about paths taken and those refused outright. wondering what she could have done differently, better. even before she came here.

would Cal have been so cruel if she had opened her heart to him as he requested? or would it have made matters worse for everyone, her having to split her affections? in such a competition, only one could win, even if it wasn't herself.

but she would have accepted it if it had meant that Jack and Cal could have come to terms, even if it were over her corpse? yes. yes, she would've]

I assume we all have our...regrets. Things we wish we could have done differently, solutions we did not see in the heat of the moment. How do you all cope with those regrets or do they haunt you, still?

You needn't identify yourself. Such confessions almost demand anonymity and will hold no sense of judgement on my part. It's not for me to confirm or condemn for in the end, we're all answerable to ourselves.

November 14
Outreach
Non-profit construction group

General announcement

This month Darkbloods are experiencing a curse similar to the Tower’s—manifestations gone wrong. Everyone, please be advised and take care.

Multiple cases of loose wires/circuit board faces capable of speech have been reported at Outreach worksites. Client or not, if you see these, please let us know and do not talk with them. You can deactivate them with blunt force, but we will handle them free of charge.

No additional manifestations are expected this month.

( he doesn't typically make use of the network, content to read and stay within his own boundaries but he's feeling a little thoughtful today so.

so, here he is. )

if you had the choice, would you stay alive eternally and watch everyone you love eventually die or would you die young and miss out on a life lived?