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Entry tags:
- !event,
- archer: ray gillette,
- archer: sterling archer,
- attack on titan: erwin smith,
- attack on titan: levi ackerman,
- bbc dracula: agatha van helsing,
- dc comics: bruce wayne,
- dceu: diana prince,
- fate/grand order: kiara sessyoin,
- fate/grand order: leonardo da vinci,
- ffxiv: takame kesi,
- good omens: aziraphale,
- good omens: crowley,
- great library: christopher wolfe,
- jjba: okuyasu nijimura,
- kipo: kipo oak,
- marvel comics: miguel o'hara,
- original character: daylight vis lornlit,
- original character: vasiliy y ardankin,
- persona 4: shinjiro aragaki,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- tangled: cassandra,
- tangled: rapunzel,
- tasm: peter parker,
- the gifted: lorna dane,
- the last of us: ellie,
- the untamed: huaisang nie,
- undertale: papyrus,
- undertale: sans,
- world of warcraft: anduin wrynn,
- world of warcraft: wrathion
DECEMBER 2020 EVENT - PART 1
CHAPTER ONE, PART 1: A HOLLY JOLLY HOLIDAY
Do you hear what I hear?
DECEMBER 5th | A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE | THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...
DECEMBER 5th
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Don’t you hate to be the last to know? Out of the windows of your brand new homes, you spot families trotting along in their happy, nuclear units. Stores and restaurants have closed early—on main street, where jingle bells hang from every door, the only souls to be seen are heading toward the town hall, where wreaths hang around the stone lions’ necks. A stage, awash in string lighting, has been erected with three chairs sitting empty behind a podium. Policemen with their smiles and baby-blues stand guard before it; they too are not allowed beyond the velvet ropes. Twenty feet tall—near to reaching the tip-top of the clock tower—a mass is hidden by black tarps. This is the most guarded of all, ringed by no less than twelve junior policemen standing vigil around the clock. At sundown, you start to see what’s to come. As the crowd swells, bundled in their coats and scarves, the ladies with silk scarves drawn around their perfectly coiffed hairstyles, three figures take to the stage: |
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Chief of Police, Dale Harding, who must constantly slip away and bend his ear to listen to one of his boys, giving orders with long sighs, firm words, and grumbles as he takes his seat again. Occasionally one sees a flash of silver moving from his lapel up to his lips, but surely that must only be his policeman’s badge that he kisses, because he loves his town so very, very much! The Happy Homes Association—or at least, their junior representative. Her bright and shining pin of office sits hidden behind the tremendous fruit basket poised upon her lap, where green and scarlet cellophane cannot quite hide the fruitcake inside the way it does her name. How does she keep her teeth so white and her lipstick so clean and red? Subscribe to their newsletter and read Cathy’s Cosmetic Can-Dos! column to find out! |
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Mayor Phillip Clarke—well, Phil to his friends. He takes his place at the podium, his top hat inky black, leather gloves oiled and bright, and draws all the town’s breathless attention. He taps the microphone. Once—the crowd inhales—twice—their eyes shine as they look up—three times— “Gooooood evening, Santa Rosita!” The crowd goes wild as Clarke bellows. Eventually, he raises both arms and gestures for them to quiet down. “I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out, especially on a school night!” Like the admonishing parent, he wags a knowing finger at several teens in the crowd. “Believe you me, on a night like this, I know how tempting it is to stay home and curl up on the couch with a good book. And,” he adds with a wink to a woman in the front of the crowd, “maybe some of Margie's famous hot chocolate.” Laughter ripples through the crowd. Again, Clarke patiently waits until they’re finished before continuing, “But that's exactly what makes our little town so special. No matter the time, every day of the week there's always someone out there who will sacrifice something for the better of the community. Be it the energy to get this terrific tree set up—” he gestures to the tree, “—the patience to string twenty yards of lights up—which, I might add, have been generously donated by our pals at Honeybees—or even just time.” Clarke’s tone turns solemn, but his face remains fixed in a winning smile. “Santa Rosita isn't just a town. It's a family. Each and every one of you out here tonight is a valued member. Even all you new faces out there!” He points to several newcomers in the crowd in what might almost be an accusatory manner if not for the smile on his face. “Don't think I can't see you! Tonight, you have become part of that family. Santa Rosita is your home now. It's through our traditions that we endure, and it's my sincerest wish that you, all of you, will join together with us and help us keep them alive for years to come.” The crowd applauds, everyone turning to face the new families. As Harding takes a swig from a flask he pulls out of his pocket and the HHA representative continues to beam at the audience with her too-white smile, Clarke fully turns to the tree and pumps his fist in the air, riling the crowd back up. “And now, without further ado, let's RING. IN. THE HOLIDAYS!” |
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As his words come to a close, at last the tarp is pulled away—revealing twenty feet of pure, polished, brilliant... ...aluminium christmas tree. Quick as the busy bees they are, the Happy Homes Association is there to announce that you can buy both table-sized and home-use duplicates for your own homes! The cost is $8 for the little ones and $18.50 for the big trees—get your wallets ready! As the crowd stampedes toward their own tiny and/or six-foot silver replicas, the three figures on the stage are hurried away. The HHA representative presents their gift basket to the Mayor. He kisses her on both cheeks, rubbing his belly in anticipation of the deliciousness to come, and hurries on. Chief Harding takes the rear, casting back a sour look, and before you have a chance to see if the three could answer any questions, the stage is empty again. ...well, get in line! You want those trees too, don’t you? |
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A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE
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The days are getting colder and the entire town seems to be getting into the holiday spirit, between the tree lighting ceremony and the decorations your neighbors are putting up. But something seems to want you to get into the Christmas spirit as well—you haven’t done anything out of the ordinary, but when you open the door, you’re met by a burst of frigid air carrying the scents of gingerbread and peppermint on it. Stepping through the door, you are not in Santa Rosita any more. Well, technically, you are; you’re just down by Rose Garden Park, before the Old Growth starts. But it’s not where you thought you were going, and it doesn’t resemble the normal streets of suburbia now. You’ve stepped into a charming Christmas village, packed with all sorts of fun winter activities and sights to see! The ground is covered in pure white snow that never seems to melt into slush, and the sounds of high, sweet jingle bells fill the air as a team of reindeer haul a sleigh past. Maybe that’s Santa’s sleigh they’re pulling? |
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As you walk into the village, a red pole demands your attention, placed in such a way that no one can miss it. A letter is attached to it: The people were smiling; there was nary a frown! They entered my village, all brimming with cheer And knew that quite soon, old St. Nick would be here There's skating and snowmen and light shows galore There's even a place to make wreaths for your door! But somewhere inside there's a mailbox to find And Santa may bring you what's most on your mind… As the letter suggests, the village is full of hustle and bustle. Santa’s elves—Robbies decked out in red and green costumes with matching tights and jingle bell boots—are everywhere, making sure that there’s always plenty of holiday treats available for visitors to eat and drink. The nearby pond is iced over and the elf manning the ice skate exchange station seems to be able to guess your perfect size with a glance, while reindeer racing courses have been set up encircling the village. All of the buildings and many of the trees have been lined with lights, warm and bright, and there are stations set up where visitors can make garlands or wreaths to take back with them to the real world. The real world? Yes, of course—that boring place with work and school and vacuuming! Though the door you initially walked through may have turned into a station for making gingerbread houses, you can hoof it back to your home in Shadyside at any time. The public library is just that way, past the baseball diamond! Any time you open a door, however, you run a risk of finding that it leads back to the village, where the elves are waiting to ensure you enjoy your visit. You can try to close the door and open it again, but who knows if your luck has changed? The organizers of the village seem to be most insistent that you come and enjoy yourself—flyers are all around town, stuffed in your mailbox, and pinned on bulletin boards. Though some signs on lampposts seem as though they’ve been torn down in a huff, you still can spot them on Main Street: “Visit Santa Rosita’s Very Own Christmas Village!” And visit it you will. |
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While the elves are happy to welcome visitors to their village, they also have to work. Christmas toys don’t build themselves, you know! The elves will point out Santa’s Workshop to you, where you can buy freshly made candy canes, charming ornaments for your new aluminum Christmas trees (you did buy one from the Happy Homes Association, didn’t you?), and other sundries and stocking stuffers. There’s even a German-style bar in the back serving hot chocolate and mulled wine—non-alcoholic, of course; this is a family event. Just outside of the workshop’s entrance is a mailbox, its post swirled red and white and wrapped in garlands. A small desk sits next to the mailbox with a stack of stationery, envelopes pre-addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole, and pens on top. At the top of the stationery, beside cutesy illustrations of hippos and children missing their front teeth, are the words, “What I want most for Christmas is…” Why not write Santa a letter? What have you got to lose? |
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THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...
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...to the annual Christmas gala, beginning at 4:00 pm sharp at Santa Rosita’s stately town hall!
The invitation appears in your mailbox with just enough time for you to gather all your family and go shopping, because you certainly want to look your best. You simply must. The who’s who of the town will be there, all wearing their finest velvet dresses and shined black shoes. Be warned that the dress code will be strictly enforced by the Happy Home Association—only red and green allowed, or else it simply isn’t festive. Men in bright red or green suits - women sporting taffeta skirts in complementing shades - pinned corsages and matching handbags - no detail left untouched! You wouldn’t want to be caught standing out from the crowd, would you? In the Mayor’s presence? That might be a bad idea. |
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But the holidays do get the better of us sometimes, don’t they? The HHA understands, and if on the day of the party you have found yourself without a red or green garment, they have some loaners to wear. If you’ll simply follow Mrs. Jones down to the coat room, she can show you some options.
Tables are laid out with food and drink aplenty. Even the sandwich loaf has made its effort to match the decor, as red poinsettias and holly berries dot the windows (careful children—they’re poisonous) and rich green pines occupy every corner. Move outside of the room and you’ll find nothing more than locked and darkened offices, with the occasional policemen and night guards shaking their fingers at you to go back and enjoy the party. This is a night to be merry and drink some mocktails, not to go through the filing! Up by the fine wood paneling and brilliant metal tree stands the mayor himself. Looking dashing as Santa Claus, a cluster of parents flock nearby beaming as their child gets their photo taken with Mayor Clarke! That’s certainly going in the Christmas newsletter! Each of them has a little present—perfectly wrapped, just see Grandma’s Gift Wrapping Guide in this month’s HHA newsletter—to give to the Mayor for all his hard work this year. You didn’t think that stack of presents by Santa’s chair was for him to pass out, did you? |
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Between music sets (graciously played by the Frederick Loren High School marching band), the Mayor stands—the hall falls silent, all the little cups and plates still in jolly hands. He has a speech to give you all, you fine citizens, faces old and new: “Ho-ho-hi there, Santa Rosita! And how are we enjoying ourselves tonight? I see some of our new families were able to make it out tonight—is that Richard O’Reilly and the missus?” Using a hand to shade his eyes, Clarke squints into the throng of townspeople. “And Jim Astin with Lucy and little Susie! Wow. Isn’t that something?” In the back of the room, Chief Harding pours himself a glass of punch, takes a sip, then reaches into his suit jacket for his flask. |
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“Now, in my house,” Clarke continues, “we have a rule not to open any presents until Christmas Day, but with all the ones I've gotten tonight, it's just too darn tempting.” Reaching down, he takes a box from the pile of gifts at his feet. “I think this one's a tackle box, and I'm pretty sure this—” he reaches down for another smaller box, “—is that electric razor I’ve had my eye on.” He shakes the box, chuckling, as the rest of the crowd joins him. “But let's get serious for a moment.” Clarke’s expression turns thoughtful. “Although getting a truckload of Christmas presents is swell, do you want to know what the greatest gift you've given me is?” He pauses performatively, waiting for an answer from the crowd that never comes. “The greatest gift you've all given me... is letting me serve you.” In the back, Harding ditches the punch cup and just drinks straight from the flask. “I'm honored to be here with you all tonight,” Clarke continues proudly, “just I am honored to be able to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and tell myself that I... am your mayor. Which is why I want to give something back to you. How many of you have already visited Santa's little village?” There’s a round of cheering in the front of the audience from the many children in attendance with their parents. Clarke opens his arms wide. “My idea! I decided that if I can't bring Santa Rosita to the North Pole, I'm going to bring the North Pole to Santa Rosita. Enjoy yourselves! Saint Nick's got a lot of work to do before Christmas. So be good, don’t pout, and for goodness sake—have fun!” The clapping threatens to take down the garlands hung from chandeliers. ”A fine orator!” “Reminds me of the war, when we heard Churchill over the radio. Why, Clarke gives him a run for his money, ha ha ha!” A delightful HHA elf comes to replenish the pickle tree on the appetizer table, and the covers of Bing Crosby carry you away into the night. Remember to stay until 9:00 pm, when the Santa Rosita Children’s Choir will start caroling! |
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OOC INFO
Welcome to the first part of the event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to use the log and network communities as well.
A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.
Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!
And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.
Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.
Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!
A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.
Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!
And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.
Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.
Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!
SORRY I MISSED THIS
Is it Abby? Is Abby fucking here? Fuck, she never thought-
No, both voices are male. One is Ray and the other... Ellie leaps down the stairs and tears into the kitchen. Just as Ray flicks on the lights and says "Archer?", Ellie comes up behind the intruder and jams her knife into his shoulder.]
Fucker!
ya good (cw... blood?? i mean, he got stabbed, so)
Ra-- WHAT THE F-- [he jerks away from ellie, lifting his good leg to kick her back.] WHY! DID YOU LET HER STAB ME?!
[he clamps a hand over where the knife handle is sticking out his skin, a good amount of blood starting to leak out from between his fingers.]
God damn it, that was right where I got shot! You asshole!
no subject
Oh no, wait, stop, I know him, don't...
[ Ray says uselessly in a very halfhearted, soft-voiced deadpan, clearly not making any effort to break them up just yet. Not until Archer starts kicking and fighting back, at which point Ray irritably moves himself between them.
With more emotion, he snaps backL ]
And it serves you right for breaking into our Goddamn house at 3am, Archer! You're lucky we didn't shoot you!
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Oh fuck, he knows this guy. Shit. She fucked up. She yanks her knife out of Archer completely unceremoniously, probably causing more damage then just leaving it in, and kicks him away before she backs herself up against the wall. She looks between Ray and Archer, eyes still slightly wild but considering the idea of being calm.]
I would have shot you if I could, asshole.
[She turns a half glance to Ray.]
Who the fuck is this?
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[fake wife like his own or fake daughter? hard to tell. everyone under a certain age looks like a baby when you get into your 40s. archer turns away from the two and kicks the wall a few times, muffling another yell with his free hand and grabs a nearby teatowel to ruin by pressing that to his shoulder instead.]
You didn't even try to stop her, dickhead! [okay. he takes a couple of deep breathes.] Wait, a rolling pin? Seriously? Did Betty Crocker sponsor you or something?
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[ "Here," but then he jumps back a step with an "eep!" when Archer splashes him with blood, gasping briefly in alarm and clapping his hand to his mouth, before he simply cuts his eyes in a glare, sighs deeply, and turns to Ellie. ]
This is my... [ There's a long pause as he struggles to define his and Archer's relationship. ] Work acquaintance from back home. Don't worry, he's survived worse than this.
[ Looking back over at Archer, he chucks the rolling pin at his head. ]
And it was the first heavy thing I could find, you asshole!
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[It's okay. They both can be rude. In fact, she snorts a little at the blood flick. She's pretty sure this guy would make it out of sheer spite and she's known him for a solid 5 seconds.
Honestly, she's a little surprised at how quickly she reacted. It's not like she's seen any action in the past year.
She reaches over grabs another towel and tosses it to Archer.]
So you can clean up after the bleeding stops.
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I dunno, I'm kind of feeling like dying from this in your house just to piss you off. [he grumbles at ray, but catches the towel with some mild thanks.] Give me some of that cookie dough.
[after a beat, he glances towards ellie.]
I'm Sterling Archer. I don't know if Ray's told you what we do, but I do it better.
no subject
[ Is he being a bitch? Yes, but it's the middle of the night, and Archer is really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really annoying, so Ray feels like he's earned this bitchiness.
He gestures with his good arm toward Ellie, tone suddenly degrees more patient: ]
This is my wife Ellie, by the way. Don't ask me how it's supposed to work, but we didn't exactly do our own matchmakin' here.
[ Southern hospitality still demanded he make some kind of formal introduction, though. Ray kicks Archer lightly in the side. ]
Stop telling people that! [ To Ellie: ] Just ignore him, he's... delirious.
no subject
[Honestly. Could be worse. She could have ended up with this guy. Ellie looks down at Archer like he's a nasty, little cockroach who interrupted her nice evening of making bomb traps.
Which he did.]
You sure he's not going to pull anything? [She can and will stab again! Then back up at Ray] What is it you do?
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[he laughs again at the reaction, casually flipping ellie off when she shoots him that glare before he gets to work... you know, cleaning up after himself.]
I'm going to pull that fucking cookie dough out of his dead hands if I have to. Ray. I'm hungry! Gimme!
no subject
[ Though Ray decides not to comment on if Archer's tiny wife is even any tinier (or well, younger) than any of the dozens of women he's hooked up with in the past, because that doesn't seem quite appropriate in mixed company. He retracts his hand back without comment, holding it limply for a moment like an animal might hold up a wounded paw, before he moves it to sit against his hip. ]
We work in, uh... communications? Well we used to, obviously not anymore, though I dunno what the Hell we're supposed to do for money now... [ As he talks he hand Archer the cookie dough, not even noticing he's doing it, just used to giving in. ] I am in no mood, even in this economy.
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[She scowls down at him. Who is the poor person married to this guy? She's tempted to go on a rescue mission because Jesus Christ. At least he's cleaning.
She looks at Ray.]
Shoulda given him the jello mold and saved the cookie dough.
[Then she raises her eyebrows at him.]
So you're gay, huh?
[She had a feeling but thanks for the confirm bro.]
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[he rolls his eyes, grabbing the cookie dough and taking a huge bite out of it as he keeps mopping up, then snorts.]
You didn't tell her? Jesus, Ray, great husbandry.
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[ Ray laughs, a good-humored little cackle like they're just pals shooting the shit right now (every time he's freshly reminded of Archer being stabbed it cheers him up just a little), and then snatches the cookie dough back. ]
And it's complicated! You idiot! [ Then, to Ellie: ] But I am, yes. Sorry for keepin' you in suspense in all, there just didn't seem to be any good moment to bring it up, and then I wasn't sure if maybe you already knew, so I just...
[ He trails off with a flippant gesture with his wrist, wandering over to grab some first-aid for Archer, since he guesses he should at least help make sure the wound gets disinfected before they kick Archer out again. ]
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[She could have made it a lot more deadly if she'd wanted. Then she glances up at Ray, curious. It's not like she's that familiar with any signifers, as all of that went out the window after the Outbreak. Maybe pierced ear or something but that's about it.
Ellie shrugs. She doesn't really want to say it in front of Archer but the conversation calls for it so-]
I have a girlfriend back home.
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[to whit he snatches the first aid kit out of ray's hands and turns away, evidently happy to ignore them while they discuss this... new topic.]
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Aww. [ Hand to heart. ] Then that worked out pretty well for us, actually. If I can't have a husband at least we can both be each other's beards.
[ Famous last words before they inevitably come to blows over if and how to decorate the house (and probably a million other things as well), but... well, for now.
He looks back over to Archer, squinting vaguely at the wound. ]
Suit yourself. But you do know that's gonna need at least a couple'a stitches, right?
[ Not offering to help, though; he'll gladly go back to bed and leave Archer to figure that out for himself. ]
no subject
[And for maybe the first time, there's the ghost of a smile there. Then she just... steps over Archer on her way to the other side of the kitchen.]
Ah, he can leave it. It'll just scar.
no subject
[a beat, then:] --Actually, you have a pretty good stabbing arm. Ray could probably stand to learn a few things from you.
[he sniffs a little as he tears the sleeve of his shirt off, wincing at the fibres that got caught up in the wound. yeah, he can deal with this. might go to the hospital later, might not.]
Well, don't let me keep you up! Ugh...