Deer Country Network

[ After much consideration, she's decided to put herself out there and do a little research. Of course the matter is a personal one and she's a little embarrassed, so she'll hide behind text and her role as a doctor. ]

Has anyone here ever thought about having children? It's not as if there aren't children here, it's just seems that they all belong to native families.

From a medical standpoint, I've been wondering if it's possible, but if not I want to figure out what's making it impossible. Or is everyone just on really good birth control?

Thoughts? Has anyone looked into this before? Did you find anything useful?

[this, like most of the posts that anna makes, comes in the middle of a sleepless night. she's gone as anonymous as she possibly can, at least. maybe that will stop people from calling her out. maybe one day she'll learn how to talk about her emotions without sounding like a theater kid turned supervillain.]

How are we all feeling in the wake of January?
Are we feeling whole? Normal? Like ourselves?
Suppose you aren't. Suppose you walked, or flapped, or slithered away from the shedding ceremony feeling extremely different.
Could any of you pinpoint that change, do you think?
Would any of you even still be aware that you used to be someone different?

And on the other side of the coin, for people who returned to "normal".
Do you remember what happened? Do you remember who you were?
Or is it all turning into some kind of soup within your own brain?
Do you have any way to stay that gnawing feeling of dread inside you when you think of the way you're losing touch with your own identity?

And if you have no idea what I'm talking about... call it a thought experiment.

[ The feed opens on a young man seated cross-legged on an expanse of black scales, framed between two spiralling white horns against a backdrop of more black scales interspersed with charcoal dark feathers. His Hunter's armour is nearly of a shade to match, covering all of him but his vaguely familiar face.

He smiles warmly as he runs a soft cloth over a plain knife to clean it of the black blood all over its flat metal grey. ]

Good evening, fellow Sleepers.

( throne-speech )

[ asriel has been described as an imposing figure, and the harsh lighting in this place does nothing to dispel that. it's a spacious room, and what light there is seems swallowed by the darkness of the shadows. the lamp on the desk beside him provides most of what there is, and it also illuminates the mess of books and papers he did not bother to tidy before making this.

his snow leopard daemon sits calm and still at his side, all except for her tail sweeping back and forth. there are the sounds of ravens chattering nearby unseen, but as the cat seems more attentive to asriel, they don't seem to be the cause of her anticipation. ]

I am Lord Asriel Belacqua. Few of you will know me, as I only recently found myself in this world, which is why I am here now.

For various reasons, I am interested in the pthumerians, but my research will take time and is more limited in some areas than I would like. I would rather hear it from the rest of you since the people alive here right now are more relevant than the opinions of authors who may no longer be with us. Do you consider them friends or foes? What role does their presence play in your lives? Do you approve of their influence on you? Consider me taking a neutral stance, so all sides have value; if it is worth mentioning, I would hear of it.

[ it's intended to be some encouragement to those who might wonder if their information isn't important enough (because it is), but asriel being asriel means it comes out sounding more like a command. ]

You needn't answer all the questions either, just whatever you like.

[ yes, the snow leopard talks too, but stelmaria's manner manages to be gentler, at least. ]

Given the implications of the illness problem, now seems an appropriate time for an exchange of information, don't you think?

[A certain someone had come in late to the game, with only a stack of notes and what looked to be a bulleted to-do list tacked to the wall. There were a multitude of unanswered questions-- and the few answers available only brought more to the foreground.
It was time to make some forward motion.]

Morning all.

Here's a questionnaire to answer at your leisure. Feel free to use the anonymous and privacy functions if they are more to your tastes, given the sensitive nature of the questions. Detail isn't necessary, unless you want to give them. This is just a surface level poll.

1) Who is your Patron?
2) How do you relate to them?
3) How is your Blessed Day significant to you?
All answers will be screened on request. I understand that people may want to keep certain details private.

[With that matter taken care of, 'Athena' set about their life in peace. They landed in Trench with a grand puzzle, and it was going to be fun to solve.]

[ Looking like a little gentlemen with his tiny suit and hat to match, a boy perfectly split in half stares nervously at the camera with mismatched eyes. Behind him is a wall of snow three times his height and he's nowhere near dressed for the weather with his tailored checkered pants and thin socks covered in shoes meant for indoors activities instead of the winter he finds himself in. Yet, he doesn't look cold. Just a little nervous. ]

Okaasan? 

[ He stares at the camera, looking lost, hoping to see his mother's face pop up on the screen. Near the outskirts of Prufrock, he hasn't yet made it far enough inland to see anything but snow and forest after two hours of roaming the area. ]

I-I... don't know where I am. 


[ ooc; all replies will come from strawberry_shortcake . ]

I would like to pose several questions regarding bloodstone gems.

Robby has had some luck in gathering information from Nevermind when discussing blood pollution and attempts to balance it. The pthumerian stated isolating specific abilities from the bloodtypes into gems could be an avenue. Darkblood comes to mind, the reality bending abilities used to warp the pollution or corruption directly from the environment.

I've done some initial testing with little success, hence this post. Does anyone have experience with making bloodgems they can share?

Are there bloodgem jewelers in the Trench you can recommend? Any information found in the Archives that can be useful?

For that matter anyone interested in the research is welcome to help or get involved, I am hardly an expert in blood magic itself, in truth. Donations of blood are welcome as well as we continue to look into this.

[ooc; here is the ooc plotting post for this player plot!]

alright my lil raptors!!! its ur fav person in the whole world w/ a few announcements!

and theyre pretty important so u better read up or there will be consequences!

( what's a raptor? don't worry, it's just a chicken from her world. she is basically calling all of you chickens.)

1. theres a girl here named chizuru. her un is lookingforshinsengumi for the record. shes my girl now so dont mess w/ her unless u want to watch ur step from when u wake up till u sleep!! if that doesnt get u, then be careful what u shove in ur mouth. u might burn it off!! 🔥 😊😊😊

2. id talk about the crazy ppl under trench but someone is already screaming about it so i dont have to!!!! good thing too so i can make room for more important matters.

3. THE CLINK N CLANK IS NOW OPEN!!! 💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥

and whats the clink n clank? GLAD U ASKED EVERYONE!!

the clink n clank is the newest and the bestest shop here in trench. run by yours truly. i will make shit, repair shit, and im selling shit.

meaning weapons.

ill also break in any lock places u want me to do. i can repair other stuff too and make keys! im not free every day tho. a girls got a life u know. SO IF URE INTERESTED!!! just contact my other un CLINX!!!

guesssss thats it! dont get swallowed up down w/ the crazies!

[Since his arrival, whenever Lucius used the Omni he's kept the username of a randomly generated number. He prefers it - an identifier completely separated from identity. And that's the username he'll continue to use when he wants to be consistently recognizable or has to use voice or video. But to comment on something personally important, he believes it's better to adopt a new, unconnected name. It can be its own identity, living through text alone. And now that he knows how to do that, why not test it out with something that's been on his mind?]

There's been a lot of talk about stories lately. Stories about holidays, stories to soothe people, those sorts of things.

What use is a story when it's taken from its people? If it refers to rituals that aren't possible here, or lands we'll never return to, is it simply a way we hold ourselves back? If it's adopted by the very people it was meant to fight against, what are the original people left with?

Does a story remain a useful thing?

[ The feed opens to Ozpin's library in the rebuilt Clockhouse: gone is the overgrowth of red and blue flowers, and instead the room is a clutter of green and purple furniture, overwrought gold filigree, and a few cleverly hidden carvings of butts. He has clearly tried to position the camera away from most of the chaos, so it centers Ozpin at his desk with a stack of fairytale books. He still looks pale and gaunt with simmering Corruption; there is a glint of vampire's fangs in his polite smile. ]

Good evening, Sleepers. For those who do not know me, my name is Professor Ozpin. I teach those who would stand against monsters, and in payment I often ask for the stories they've brought from their worlds... fairy tales of heroes, villains, and fools. I find there is always a grain of truth in every fable, and certainly wisdom to be gained from the sharing of it.

I am one of those who was present in the dream called Deerington. I find that our numbers feel lower, as of late... and I fear that someday, the stories of that dream shall be lost.

A few among us may recall the August of two years ago, a festival of peace and music. We honored the death of Cynthia Sodder, now reborn as the Moon Presence, with stories for her spirit and flowers for her grave. [ He takes on a wry, more distant smile. ] To lay flowers on a grave is an old tradition indeed. But I think it's the stories that are of more use - for the one telling them, not only the one told.

Cynthia was a being caged by the stories told about her. Her daughter, Julia Sodder, suffered the same fate. Many Sleepers remember her as a child... but in this era, the people of Deer Country only seem to remember her by the nightmares she brought to life.

A very wise young man [ his smile softens ] once helped me see past that view. I thought, perhaps, in this month of quiet and reflection, we might share more hopeful stories with the girl now lost. Her spirit still dwells in Sleepy Town, and so - myself, Oscar Pine, and Paul Atreides - now propose a new festival, in the spirit of the season. We shall gather at those grand wooden gates to tell hopeful tales of heroes, of community, and of mistakes that did not mean the end.

You see... the end we chose for her was a mistake. I should like to undertake some act, however small, to ease her eternal pain.

[ that got weirdly dire, thanks Ozpin ]

You may find us at the gates of Sleepy Town for the remainder of the month, telling what stories we think a lost girl may choose to believe in. I hope to see you there.

[[ If your character would like to share a story for Julia (or another NPC), see here for player plot info! ]]

[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.

[The feed opens up to Johnny Lawrence staring at the screen like he isn't aware that it's currently life. He's looking incredible thoughtful as his fingers type down a message. It's... very uncharacteristically thoughtful of him. It would almost be hard to peg him as the same person if not for the occasional pause to take a swig of beer.

After a moment he stops. His eyes scan over the screen again as he carefully reads back what he's written. Then there's a little flick of annoyance that shifts to frustration.]

No this is stupid.

[He whacks the screen before standing up putting and shoving it aside lightly.]

You don't apologize. That shows weakness-

And there's no wea-

[The feed shuts off.]

[And a moment later another message comes through via text.]

Dear Robby,

I just wanted to apologize for what happened at Miyagi-Do the other day. I didn't want things to break into a fight, especially not like the one that did. I wanted to come and support you and what you had chosen to do. But I thought if I showed up in any sort of Eagle Fang gear it would be taken as a challenge. It turns out it did anyways as well an insult to your training ground.

All I can say is I'm sorry. You have every right to be mad at me.

If you can find it in your heart, don't blame Paul for this. He's a good kid who just got roped into the mess I made.

Johnny.

-

Dear Daniel LaRusso,

I'm sorry for the scene I caused at your dojo. I didn't mean any disrespect to Miyagi-Do and, I wasn't looking to reopen any can of worms between us.

I've been trying my best to support Robby and respect his wishes to give him space since he got here. And even though he told me that he'd be helping you reopen your dojo. It still hurt that he chose to stick by you instead of give me a chance to prove that I can be there for him.

It's why I showed up to the dojo in the fucking plumbers get up. I panicked and thought if I showed up doing anything karate related it'd be seen as disrespecting your dojo or a direct challenge to what you were doing.

Turns out it was both either way. Go fucking figure I'd screw it up that bad.

I'll do my best to keep my distance from your dojo. But don't blame Paul for this. He's a good kid and he just got pulled into my bullshit.

Johnny.

-

Dear Paul,

I'm sorry for dragging you into that mess. My relationship with Robby and LaRusso is a shit show on the best of days. And instead of owning up to that like a sensei should, I threw you into the middle of it. I put you in a position where you had to face the consequences of every bad decision I've made in my life. You didn't deserve that.

I keep telling you that I'm not going to fail you again. And then I go and do it all over again.

The way you stood up after all of that and apologized for what had happened. I just

I wish I could be half the man you were in that moment.

Don't blame LaRusso or Robby for what happened there. They were just trying to get at my while I hid behind you.

You're the real badass here.

Johnny

[ The broadcast seems to be coming from a Japanese-style garden, though with less greenery, given that it’s Trench. Some people might recognize the man standing in it as Daniel, though he’s not wearing his usual Trench getup, instead wearing a white karate gi, complete with headband. Next to him is a boy some people might recognize as Robby in a similar white gi.

It’s Daniel who speaks up first, his facial expression a relaxed smile. ]

Now, I know that there are a lot of people in this place who already offer help with fighting lessons. But this place can be so dangerous, and there are a lot of people here, so.. better to have too many opportunities to learn than too few, right? [ He shakes his head. ] That’s why I decided to open up the dojo I ran back home here as well, Miyagi-do Karate.

[ Yes, he’s gesturing an absolutely unnecessary amount as he speaks. It’s the Italian within him. ]

Miyagi-do isn’t about learning how to go around picking fights. It’s about learning how to defend yourself and how to protect others, while also focusing on your internal balance. All of which are invaluable skills in this place.

[ Daniel pauses, glancing at the boy standing besides him, before his smile widens a tad and he moves a hand to pat Robby’s shoulder. ]

I’m sure some of you might recognize my student Robby here. He’s been practicing Miyagi-do for a long time now [ never mind some stuff that’s being shoved under the rug here, sshhh ] and will be helping out around the dojo.

[ Robby has been quiet up to this point, letting Daniel speak without interruption, eyes cast in the man's direction without directly looking at him. But his lips roll when the hand falls on his shoulder, and his expression turns serious. ]

It's true we don't come from a world as dangerous as this one, or as many of you do, but the dojo will hold to its promise to help protect its students by passing on any knowledge and training that will give each one a better chance out there. I'll be helping to lead some beginner classes outside of weapons training, and I can give any advice to newcomers if you want to talk to someone closer to my age. [ Or theirs, perhaps, but same difference. ]

We welcome anyone from any of the other schools of fighting, just as we'd recommend that people go to others to find what works for them. Sensei Uchiha of the ninja school and Sensei Lawrence of Eagle Fang are good teachers with their own styles I can recommend, and if we can help alongside the other teachers here, that's our goal.

(ooc: daniel is the black text, robby the green text! ooc information can be found over here!)

Out of curiosity, about how much virgin blood do you think is required to break the mask curse?

To Trench's newer Sleepers,

 

Most especially those who are strong in their compassion ḟ̶̮õ̴̙r̷͍̆ ̸̲̐t̷̞̊h̵͚͆i̸̳͊s̶̠͘ ̸̥̿s̶̢̑ǘ̷͔f̶̥͆f̵̬͘ȩ̶̄r̷͔̓i̶̻̓ṋ̷̆ġ̷̜ ̴̤́ẁ̶̻o̵̗̍r̵͕͐l̵̯̊d̸̫̅,

 
The great Beast known as the B̴̨̝̘̽ư̶̦͙̳̻̽g̸̥̹̹̯̑g̶̳̺̞͚̒̒ȩ̴̩̀ cannot be healed without imperiling this year's harvest and threatening the city w̷̳͍̫̄í̵̬̹t̸̡̥̺̽̚ẖ̷̦͈̌̌́ ̶͔͇̈́̕ͅś̸͕̙̳̃t̶̤͇́͆a̷̧͙̼͛ṟ̴̡̀͊v̷̛̯̖͂a̷͙͑͗͑ṯ̷̗̒̇ì̴͓̗͗o̷̟͆̈́͝n̸̥̣͠ over the winter to come. You may have witnessed already that attempting to help it rouses the ire of farmers and Hunters both.

 
I do not write this to dissuade you from acting on your consciences. Those of you who seek to protect and heal Beasts rather than kill them out of hand act commendably.

 
B̶u̶t̵ ̸i̴t̵ ̴i̶s̸ ̴i̸m̴p̴o̸r̵t̸a̷n̷t̵ ̴t̷o̶ ̸u̷n̷d̶e̶r̸s̷t̷a̶n̷d̵ ̴t̵h̸e̴ ̸f̶u̸l̷l̷ ̴c̷o̵n̶s̵e̶q̴u̸e̸n̵c̷e̸s̴ ̵o̸f̴ ̵y̸o̶u̸r̸ ̵c̶h̵o̶i̶c̶e̴s̷.̵

 
Those who wish further information on the necessary rituals of the Blood Moon--or to argue the morality of killing or sparing the Beast--might respond to this with inquiries or invective.

[The black eye-and-feather symbol attached to the post in lieu of a signature is also heavily distorted, its edges trending toward an uncomfortable pink.

An edit shows up several hours later with the uncorrupted text attached and a brief note: "Apologies."]

CW: Drug and Alcohol use, including with a minor. Insensitive Language

( Post is BEHIND the cut. )

CONTENT WARNING: psychological changes, hoarding, and obsessive behavior related to lavish desires

[ this video opens up with the blink of two eyes and a disgruntled chitter. perle is filming falco and focusing on . . . quite a mess of books in various assortments, stacked upon each other until they were in danger of tilting. among the open spines on the floors pinned with bookmarks were scrolls of paintings, sketches, statues, sepia photography— anything resembling a loving relationship, falco has seemed to have snatched it and keeps it all hostage in his little cabin home's attic like a greedy little dragon buried in precious, hoarded gold. he's pacing left, right, and has been caught mid-explanation as he works a red thread between his fingers. ]

( he rambles and an omen goes ham )

[ A tawny, aquiline man in a white hood stares at the device which has just clattered to the ground. His brown eyes have widened under dark furrowed brows, frowning apprehensively. He remains very still, as if staring at an agitated snake.

Eventually, curiosity shades into an intrepid hunger glinting in his eyes from beneath the shadow of his hood. He would like to know what secrets this device holds. He reaches forward with one calloused hand-- ]

[it's black. a single inverted conical light hangs overhead, casting a yellowing glow down onto the wooden table below. maybe a few stains of liquid here and there on the surface, maybe that's wood pattern, who knows. a man's sitting in the darkness at the table, gnarled purple burn scars attached to the healthy flesh of his hands via surgical staples just around the base of his palm and past his wrists. the same burns travel all the way up his arms and vanish beneath metallic cuffs above his elbows, clasped to his dark coat. similar burn scars cover his entire throat and the lower half of his face, as well as his lower eyelids, all stapled to his flesh the same way, which gives him a skeletal rictus grin of sorts. it even spreads down to his upper chest, before his white shirt hides it from view.

dabi really doesn't make a lot of posts or responses on the network, but sometimes, hey, you gotta reach out and ask a question or two. he leans forward, spiky black hair brushing just under the light above, probably giving indication he's in some booth somewhere, but no other clues beyond that.]

Ain't much for this kinda thing, but anyone out there got a computer? Somethin from a "modern" time that'd take a USB cable. Maybe with some good media editing software. These Omni things can download and store media from the network, but hell if I can find a port on this rock.

[the image shifts a few times as he gives the omni a few turns around, as if doing one last double check for proof. then settles it again. dabi sets a small button camera used for covert recording operations down on the table.]

Or if ya know how to jack somethin from home into the Omni, lemme know. I got a few things I wanna upload to the network.

[the camera itself isn't capable of connecting to any kind of network, so transfers of the media recorded has to be manual.]

Might be fun to watch 'em later.

[The feed opens up to the front of a brick building with a sign hanging out the front that might look familiar to anyone that had been around in the dream.

A beat passes before Ruby Rose steps out in an old checkered suit looking very much like a used car salesman.]

Are you fed up with feeling defenseless during crazy judgement fueled rampages?
Tired of weird guys claiming to be god pissing off the local deities?
Sick of toddlers coming around and burning down your house?
Absolutely annoyed with the fact that your sword isn't also a gun!?
...Miffed about the usual monster related problems plaguing our world?

Well have I got a solution for you!

[Ruby whips out her massive scythe which she swings once before it folds up into it's rifle form. She cocks it and aims at the camera.]

Come on down to The Roses Thorns and solve your problems the good old fashioned way! With high powered weaponry!

I've been making weapons ever since I was baby- Or well maybe like eleven to thirteen to be more accurate. But that's pretty much baby. And I have a proven track record of making awesome weapons back in the dream just take a look for yourself!

[She steps inside the building revealing a very classy forge decorated with various weapons, and large cold blood gems of roses, butterflies and little dogs.

She approaches the table and picks up a guitar.]

Like this! Just a normal guitar, right? WRONG!

[She flips a switch on it and strums a note only for a burst of flame to shoot out from the guitar head.]

And just incase the fire doesn't do the trick, it also doubles as a spear!

[Don't mind her as she demonstrates the guitar turning into a spear. She twirls it around and accidentally knocks over a pile of other weapons. There's a light yelp as everything clatters but she's quick to go back into character.]

We've got tons of options and can make you the perfect weapon for you!

[She holds up a few examples including a circular shield that sprouts out into a Buzzsaw blade. A prosthetic arm with a gun in it's forearm. She stops briefly on a a cane and looks confused for quick second. ]

Huh, How did that get in there? That's Ozpin's- It's kind of lame and boring- but-

[And she gives it a twirl before pointing to the camera.]

Come on down to The Roses Thorns and check out our inventory or get prices on custom weapons!

Because if you aren't armed you're doing it wrong!