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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!
( alight! )
Doesn't hurt to look like I'm trying to act the way they want me to. [ he's used to doing that back home, unknowingly or not. ] Get on their good side and get more chances to have some leeway in the future. Gotta give the locals a reason to not immediately jump my bones in a bad way, you know?
I take that you're not planning to get one for yourself? [ this is asked in a quiet voice, not wanting others nearby to overhear this bit of the conversation. one of the things daylight immediately picked up is that the people here are quick to jump on any boat rocking. ]
no subject
There are many schools of thought in the world. This is only one of them.
[ Santi worships his Christian god, while Wolfe worships his own. Differences of belief are common where he comes from and Wolfe hasn't yet learned how gung-ho about Christmas the people here are.
But at the boy's question, Wolfe drops his voice as well. ]
I haven't decided. Some think they might be for protection; I've been told something similar happened in October.
no subject
Yeah... The lit jack-o-lanterns kept some menaces away from you, if you had them set out on your front porch. The moment the candle was snuffed, though, it was a free-for-all.
[ he rubs the back of his neck, already feeling a headache coming on at the mere thought of something like that happening again. ]
I really hope we don't get a Part Two in that sort of event. Punting kids isn't exactly a fun activity. [ ... that isn't a sentence he thought he would say, ever, but here they are. ] If we do have to be safe than sorry, I guess the small stands wouldn't be too bad. The price for the big one is ridicolous.
no subject
How much?
What happened to you in October?
[ Indulge him, please; a sample needs multiple points of data. ]
no subject
[ daylight begins to list down the list of events that stuck out to him the most. which is saying something, with how freaky the entire situation had been when he looks back on it.
but he mainly focuses on his strange interaction with the family of the bus driver who had died in the accident, and how quick they were to get over his death for the sake of the holiday. in his attempts to push for more information and understanding for their behaviour - kind of dickish, he will admit while he talks, but he found it unnerving how quick they were to sweep the whole thing under the rug. all he got were intense smiles, intense stares, and very eerie comments about not rocking the boat.
there was also the mob of zombie trick-or-treaters, who attacked anyone who didn't have a lit jack-o-lantern on their porch. the candy that was filled with needles and broken glass gets a mention but zombie children will most certainly get a lot of attention, and for good reason. ]
-Honestly? I think the best advice I can give you is that you put most of your kicking force to your knee, not your ankle. [ he smiles now, self-deprecating as he pretends to wiggle his ankle to loosen up his
jointstendons. ] Unless you're doing some serious ankle strengthening stuff, kicking zombie kids is not easy.no subject
It's a combination of this and the recognition—between Huaisang's words about how it's important to partake in local traditions and Daylight's talk about getting on the townsfolk's good side—that it's an expected tradition that makes Wolfe scowl, even as he reaches for his wallet. ]
I think I'd prefer a sidearm.
But you make your points well, if not succinctly. Your name?
no subject
Daylight. I'm Daylight vis Lornlit. It's nice to meet you!
And, you know- I've seen others write to Santa Claus to ask for something. Maybe it won't hurt to ask for that. I bet people are asking Santa a lot of weirder things. [ for example: ] Opted to write to him myself but if only to double the chances of my, hm, wife getting what she asked for. Never hurts to try.
[ hmm... judging by the skeptical tone in his voice as he addresses his, erm, partner(?), daylight isn't sure how to tackle this aspect of the situation: finding himself tied to someone else in terms of a family unit. it isn't lost on him how quick he's getting used to having a human body but is still tripping up on how to address agatha when talking about her with someone else. ]
no subject
You look far too young to have a wife.
[ It's not something he'd have commented on back home—after all, he and Santi were likely close to Daylight's age when they first began their relationship—but considering the young man that all the neighbors seem to think is his son, Wolfe's wondering if he's not the only person that's been thrown into a house with a person they barely know. ]
no subject
Right? I was pretty much shocked when I woke up and saw her pacing around. More so when we later found stuff that claimed we were married because, um, I'm definitely with someone but not with her.
[ no offense to agatha, of course! he's pretty glad she's with him, all things considered. it's just he already misses emer and hopes he's doing okay. is he safe? is he aware of what's going on?
anyways- ] She's really put together, though. Gotta give her that. While I was- [ getting used to having human skin and organs, you know, the usual stuff. ] -trying to get my bearings, she was already trying to sus out info between us. It's how we learned that people are coming from different periods of times.
no subject
Different periods and different worlds. The young man they think my "son" isn't from Earth.
[ Later, he'll have come to terms with the concept and started to make detailed notes on what he'd been doing prior to arriving in Santa Rosita in hopes he can figure out exactly what brought them here. But for now, the idea is still inane. ]
What is your time period?
no subject
but- yeah- focus on giving an answer: ] I'm from the 23rd century.
Last thing I clearly remember is that I got rescued by my friends. I was suffering a pretty nasty concussion though. [ long story on why daylight and emp bombs do not mix. ] It's why when I started hearing voices, it didn't strike me as odd.
[ then he closed his eyes, woke up, and found himself in a human body. weird. ]
You?
no subject
no subject
Sorry, no. [ he hesitates, unsure whether he should say it or not but- fuck it. he's gotta trust the others to some capacity and it's not right to keep some details of himself under wraps. not if it helps others in the name of cross-referencing data ] I haven't been to Earth for the last decade, give or take. Been in space for a while.
no subject
[ Not everyone here is as scholarly as he is, but... Wolfe really wants the details on how space travel is achieved and anything they've learned about the heavens in Daylight's time. He almost owes it to the other Scholars to learn... no. Perhaps not. He needs to keep his head down.
That does bring him to a different point, though, as Wolfe again notices Daylight's youth. ]
If you haven't been to Earth for the last decade, you must have left as a child.
[ Assuming, of course, that he was even born on Earth at all. It seems strange to think he wouldn't have been, but if space exploration is possible... ]
no subject
You got me there. I think I left home when I was... [ he cocks his head side to side like the answer will tumble out faster if he does so. gosh, it's been so long since he thought of his life before joining the lornful light.
he then makes a waving gesture with one hand, keeping the other lingering on the back of his neck. daylight is clearly trying to put on the facade of someone being super casual. it will not be difficult to see right through it. ] Maybe fourteen-years-old, if I had to put an age? Thirteen at the least? Joined the starship proper when I was sixteen-years-old, the equivalent of it at least, and haven’t looked back since.
[ okay... time to do a transition! because, um, he can tell that information he gave is going to be alarming to some and would rather dodge it, for now. ] So! Space! What do you want to know about it exactly?
[ a smooth attempt to do a transition, surely. ]
no subject
And how old are you now? Not "the equivalent of it, at least."
[ He'll come back to space in a minute. Daylight's being suspicious. ]
no subject
Well... I'm old enough to get considered married here, apparently? [ okay okay okay- that was a smartass answer and he knows it, though a second too late to stop himself from saying it. whoops.
he tries to correct himself by clearing his throat and giving a real answer: ] I'm in my twenties. Early twenties if someone twisted my arm to try and get a range out of me.
[ it's not easy to try and convert earth time units to galateion time units. they don't play nice with each other. ]