Got the morbs.

[polymods]

✖ VICTORIA'S SECRET

Ⅰ. ARRIVAL & THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The ferry pulls into port in the evening, when shadows are long and gas lamps burn through a veil of mist. Dozens of other ships are docked as well, with men unloading crates and boxes from their holds. Beyond the wet wood and lapping sound of the ocean, a city looms like a charcoal smudge on a purple sky. The air is smoggy and thick, and the river that flows from the sea into the city smells foul. Walk the cobbled streets and you will find that the city is crowded and filthy, but full of merchants, pubs, and theatres. Vast wealth and extreme poverty exist side by side.

In the center of the sprawling city is a temple with towering gothic spires and huge stained glass windows depicting all manner of beings that might be gods or angels or monsters. You could look for hours and still be finding new figures plucked straight from books of myth and religion. Inside, the main chamber has a grand vaulted ceiling, and dozens of pews line the aisle up to the altar, which is oddly anticlimactic compared to the lavish surroundings: just a plain stone table with a lit oil lamp in the centre. Two hallways branch off on either side of the room: one leads to private baths and a communal kitchen, the other to monastic style chambers with thin beds. Not the most comfortable place to stay, but it’ll do in a pinch!

Alternatively you can venture into the city and find yourself some other lodging - every Traveler has been supplied with some pocket money. Just be careful that it isn’t stolen by some street urchin. Travelers can also find an era-appropriate outfit that will fit them perfectly laid in the first sleeping chamber they visit.

Notes:
1. Unless this is your character’s first island, the High Temple and anything you may have stored there is off-limits this month.

2. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.

3. The city greatly resembles Victorian London, and the technology and general way of life is all of that era. Feel free to explore the city! These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.

4. Most food is safe to eat, and is consumable by non-human entities. Most. Some of it’s going to be pretty gross or cooked improperly, so be careful.

5. The people in the city are normal humans unless otherwise indicated. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.

6. Have fun!

---

Ⅱ. SEANCE
CW: grief, past trauma.
Perhaps you overhear talk of it at a pub, or maybe you’re handed a small card as you push your way through the crowded city streets. Maybe you just wander in by accident. However it happens, you find yourself being ushered into the parlour of one Miss Mary Price: Spiritualist.

You and several other people are instructed to sit at a round table in a very dark and musty room. The walls are covered in thick black curtains, and maybe you’re the type to suspect that there’s someone hiding behind them somewhere. Once everyone is seated, Mary Price herself enters the room. The lights are all extinguished save for a single candle.

Mary calls out to the spirits. They communicate through a series of knocks, or the movement of a Ouija board. Someone at the table is put in contact with a deceased aunt who reveals the location of a family heirloom. Someone else is able to say goodbye to a son.

Mary Price looks at you with eyes so dark they look black, and asks, “What haunts you?”

Maybe you answer honestly. Maybe you don’t answer at all, but that doesn’t matter because the spirit tapping around the room is more than happy to narc on you and tell the whole room what or who it is that you cannot forget.

You can deny it all you like, but the spirits don’t have a reason to lie. And if you try to mess up the seance, you will spend a month being hounded by an angry poltergeist.

Notes:
1. The spirit can communicate through knocks, the Ouija, actually vocalising through the medium, or via ectoplasm.

2. What haunts your character does not have to be the memory of a dead person. It can be an event - maybe they’ve never gotten over losing that science fair in grade three. It is the feeling of being haunted that is important.

3. If you choose to trash the seance, the spirit will follow you for the rest of the month. It can range from annoying to actually dangerous.

---

Ⅲ. THE RIPPER
CW: murder, gore, violence.
You’re lost at night. Maybe you were in the pub too late, or maybe you were searching for more illicit fun - weren’t there opium dens around this time? - or maybe you just weren’t keeping an eye on the time. However it happened, you’re on the streets in the dark.

It’s very foggy; you can barely see a foot in front of you. The streetlamps look like dimly burning ghosts and when the odd person passes you they are felt more than seen, just a darker shadow in a world of shifting shades.

Very suddenly you hear a scream - short, and swallowed up quickly by the fog. Still, it’s enough to get you to turn and hurry down a narrow alleyway.

Sprawled on the ground amid a lake of blood is a body. It’s immediately apparent that this person is probably beyond help - their throat has been slashed ear to ear. Your appearance was not expected, however, and you can see that you’ve startled the killer: they’re running down the alley in the opposite direction.

You have a few choices: you can chase the killer and attempt to catch them, you can try to help the victim, you can get the authorities, or you can just walk away.

What will you do?

Notes:
1. The inspiration for this prompt is Jack the Ripper but you do not have to use that case as a basis for your killer.

2. You can get as involved with this as you would like. You can have your character catch the killer in a chase, or form your very own detective squad and hunt them down that way.

3. Naturally, walking away from a potential serial killer might not be great for your Scrywatch grading!

---

Ⅳ. RESURRECTION MEN
CW: dead bodies, grave robbing.
You’re not entirely clear on how you agreed to this. Maybe it was a barroom bet gone wrong. Maybe you’re broke enough that you need money fast. Or maybe you want to help some wannabe medical students. However it happened, you’re in the cemetery.

And you’ve got a shovel.

Time to rob some graves! You’ve convinced yourself somehow that this isn’t morally reprehensible, and so you and your partner are just going to get down to business! What corpse should you unearth? You feel like a kid in a candy store!

The problem comes once you’ve unearthed the body because it seems terribly familiar. Which is… creepy. Creepier still when it starts talking.

Maybe it’s a family member, or an old friend. Maybe an ex partner. Whoever it is, they immediately start telling your fellow grave robber about some incident from your past that you just. Can’t. Let. Go. Of. And even if you whack it with a shovel it won’t stop. Bad corpse! BAD Corpse!

Which of course is exactly what you have to try and do if you want this chatty Cathy of a corpse to shut the hell up.

Notes:
1. If you do NOT let go of this past event, the corpse will follow you the rest of the night singing Henry the Eighth I am, I am.

Sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

Comments

Malcolm Bright | Prodigal Son

[prodigalmess]

I. ARRIVAL/TEMPLE

The view from the boat makes it pretty obvious what kind of island this is. As someone who enjoys history, Malcolm's pretty excited to be visiting a version of Victorian London. Or at least he is until the smell hits him. That's the thing about history. A time and place may look one way in a picture, but a picture can't fully express what it's like to be there. The dirt and stench of the docks waft over him as he disembarks. History sure is fun! He only hopes the temple is cleaner.

Fortunately, it is. The soaring gothic architecture belies the simplicity inside. The bed in the room that he picks isn't great, but he's able to attach his restraints to it, so it should work. At least it's a room with a door that he can lock and no roommates. Except for Sunshine, who has been chattering away in her cage. Malcolm sets it down on the small table in the room, glad to have her here with him.

Even though he picked up some suits at The Mall, he's pleased to find a smart Victorian suit in the closet. He's never been so happy to blend in.

After he changes, he leaves his room and locks the door with a clunky metal key. Malcolm smiles and tips his hat to whomever happens to pass him in the hall.

III. THE RIPPER

Malcolm sees the crowds in the early daylight and is drawn to the scene. A few policemen are milling around the area, trying to keep the people back, but Malcolm manages to slip through.

The body of the young woman looks ghostly pale, her throat slashed from ear to ear. A grisly Victorian murder? Malcolm feels an excitement surge through him like he hasn't felt in months. He tries not to let it show too much on his face, otherwise the police will want to question him.

One of the of the policemen has a mop and it takes Malcolm a second to realize what he's doing with it. He's about the mop up the pool of blood around the victim.

"No!" Malcolm cries, jumping forward, one hand out. "No, no, you're contaminating the crime scene."

He looks around, hoping that there's somebody else in the crowd who'll back him up.

IV. RESURRECTION MEN

Malcolm had not intended to become a Victorian cop, but here he is: chasing after body snatchers in a moonlit graveyard. After helping the local police with the murder case, they've allowed him to join as a consultant of sorts. It's similar to his job back home and he's thrilled to be doing it. Grave robbing isn't a major crime in the 21st century, mostly because people are able to donate their bodies to science, so medical students aren't short of having cadavers to practice on. Strange how times and crimes change.

The grave robbers drop the recently unearthed corpse and run away when Malcolm and the person that he's with come upon them. They give chase, but the body snatchers are familiar enough with the graveyard that they're easily able to evade Malcolm and run off into the night.

With a sigh, he returns to the corpse, shining his lantern over it. The body is recently dead, still relatively well-preserved. There's something about it; the blonde hair sprawled over its face gives him pause. Carefully, he reaches down to push off the hair and the corpse opens its eyes and sits up.

What the fuck?

"A-Ainsley?!" Malcolm asks in utter shock. His sister wasn't dead back home, or at least she wasn't when he left.

"I killed him," the corpse says in a raspy voice, looking around at the other people there. "Malcolm couldn't kill him, but he helped me get rid of the body."

V. WILDCARD

[ Want something else with Malcolm Bright: Victorian Cop? Send me a PM or message me at sparks_fly. ]

iv

[antifungi]

What the fuck is absolutely goddamn right. Running around chasing off wannabe grave robbers was definitely not how Joel saw his night going, but this shit right here puts that on a whole different level. He'd picked up one of the body snatchers' discarded shovels, and he nearly drops it jerking back when the corpse they were after sits right up out of its grave.

He tightens his grip, ready to take a swing and knock it right back down if it drags itself up any further - but Malcolm's reaction gives him pause. And by then, the corpse has started speaking.

"She a friend of yours?" He sounds pissed, but that's because he is. Christ. More of this fucked up magic shit; that's just what he needs.

tw: dismemberment

[prodigalmess]

Joel is a good person to help Malcolm chase grave robbers, because it's clear that he takes no shit and would probably knock a person out if need be. This, however, is a very unexpected twist to their night.

Knowing Joel's past history with the undead Malcolm holds up a hand, hoping that he won't attack the reanimated corpse on the ground.

"S-She's my sister," Malcolm replies, still trying to process everything that's going on.

"Dad called and told us that we had to get rid of the body," Ainsley continues, moving her head in a way that seems like it would be very painful for a living person. "Malcolm cut him into pieces."

On second thought, the longer that Ainsley talks, the more he thinks that hitting her with that shovel might be a good idea.

[antifungi]

He's willing to stand back so long as that thing in the grave doesn't make any fast moves - it's sure as hell nothing like what he knows. At the moment, though, he can't say whether that's a relief or not.

Especially when it doesn't shut up. Joel may be no stranger to gruesome violence (and the perpetrator of more than a little of it, out of necessity), but even he's never cut up a body. His gaze darts between the body in the coffin and Malcolm, sharp in the dim light of that lantern.

"What the hell is she talkin' about?"

[prodigalmess]

Malcolm is floored by everything that's transpired in the past few minutes. Apparently, the body that the men were trying to steal is actually the body of his sister, who has now awakened from the dead and is telling everyone about the last things he remembers from home.

"I-It's um..." Malcolm's hand has started to shake. How is he going to explain this?

Ainsley is still babbling, so Malcolm takes his annoyance out on her. "Shut up!" He cries. "Just stop!"

[antifungi]

Christ, this has turned into a mess quick. At least one of their problems seems like it's got an easy solution, though, and pleading with the thing in the grave isn't it. Malcolm can always explain after the corpse is dealt with.

Joel takes a step forward - the grave's not deep, and the shovel he picked up has a long handle. He hefts it back over his shoulder, not waiting to see if Malcolm still has any objections before taking a swing at the corpse's head. Crushing the skull ought to shut it up, right?

[prodigalmess]

He glances frantically between Ainsley and Joel. Even if this undead creature before them is very much not his sister, it still looks like her. She just told the world how he cut up a body to protect her. He's not going to let Joel smash her face in.

"Okay..." Malcolm holds his hands up, stepping between the two of them. "Okay." He feels absolutely defeated. Numb. "Yes. I had to.. get rid of a body, to keep her safe. It was self-defense."

"No it wasn't," the voice behind him croaks and Malcolm feels his heart drop.

iv.

[neverwither]

Chloe is not much of an assistant for a Victorian cop - certainly not in comparison to Connor and his capabilities - but she's placed herself in the role anyway. She can offer a machine's memory and attention to detail as any android could so she isn't entirely useless. Mainly she's accompanying him so he doesn't have to be alone in whatever he may get roped into.

Grave robbing is... Well, Chloe's not going to dwell on the specifics of the crime too much unless she needs to. She can do detached evidence gathering. Hasn't she been claiming she wants to be stronger? Make contributions where she can without shying away from the distinctly unsavoury?

She isn't far behind Malcolm, focused on the fleeing figures to commit any details about them to memory. His reaction to the corpse is enough to get her attention. The corpse speaking, and what it says, keeps her attention on her friend.

"...Malcolm...?" And there's a whole lot of questions in that one word.

tw: dismemberment

[prodigalmess]

Malcolm likes spending time with Chloe. Plus, she's clever, so she makes a better partner than she probably realizes.

Quite frankly, he has a lot of questions too. Mainly, is this real or some kind of magical trick? The undead Ainsley cricks her neck and looks up at the two of them.

"We spoke to Dad," she continues. "And Malcolm had to cut up the body and get rid of it. He had to protect me."

"Stop!" Malcolm cries out finally. "Whatever you are... just stop!"

[neverwither]

Judging by their experiences so far, the talking corpse is likely to be very real indeed. From Chloe's perspective, it's more a question of whether what is being said is real or not. The islands do have the tendency to poke and prod at all the hidden recesses.

She places a hand on Malcolm's arm. "Is it true?" she enquires gently. But she's ready to turn and flee if he wants to get the hell away.

[prodigalmess]

He's shaking. At first it was just his hands, which he had balled up into fists, but now his entire body is trembling and tears are flowing freely. Malcolm turns, trying to get away from Ainsley, though Chloe is welcome to follow him.

There's a creaking sound as the reanimated corpse stands up and steps out of the grave. It's not going to leave him alone is it?

"Yes!" He tells Chloe, confessing finally. "I-I did it to protect her." 'Her' being the zombie creature currently standing stock still in the grass, hair half covering her face.

What must Chloe think of him now, knowing the worst thing that he's ever done? Malcolm covers his face with his hands and turns away so that she can't see him sobbing.

[neverwither]

Of course she follows him. Until he tells her to go, there's no way she would leave him alone in that state. And even if he did tell her to get lost, chances are she would stay regardless.

The thing from the grave can be ignored for now. It isn't attacking - except for its words - so she doesn't care much about its awful presence. What she cares about is her friend. Hearing of him doing such a thing is disturbing, she can't deny that. But she thinks how disturbing it must have been for him, not that Malcolm himself is disturbing. When he says he did it to protect who the corpse is, she believes it. And what lengths to go to to keep someone safe.

Standing in close to him, she puts an arm around his shoulders. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you," she whispers.

cw: murder

[prodigalmess]

The undead body of Ainsley is still standing in the graveyard about 30 yards away from them, a dark silhouette in the moonlight.

Malcolm takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes. In some ways, telling Chloe is worse than telling some of the other people here. Yes, she cares about him and wants to comfort him, but Malcolm actually cares about what she thinks. He hates to disappoint her and make her think that she's some kind of monster.

"A man was coming after my family," he tells Chloe, leaning into her as she puts her arm around him. "He was powerful and he wanted to destroy us. He framed me for murder. When I was able to confront him, I... I couldn't shoot him. Couldn't pull the trigger." He sighs. "So Ainsley got a knife and slit his throat."

iii

[lickstheevidence]

Connor's gonna back him up on that, with a shouted "he's right" before coming up to stand next to Malcolm so the both of them can stare down the policeman. He gestures between he and Malcolm. "Please. We have some new methods for investigating a crime scene and we need it to stay intact. Don't clean anything yet, alright?"

Maybe he'll be listened to, and maybe he's just gotten Malcolm and himself arrested as suspects. It could probably go either way.

[prodigalmess]

Malcolm's pleased to have some back up, even if the police are looking at them suspiciously right now. He tries to think fast.

"Actually, we're here to clean up the scene," Malcolm says, changing tack. "We work for the morgue." The police officers might be more inclined to believe that, if Malcolm wasn't dressed so posh. He hopes that they'll choose to ignore his outfit.

The fact that cleaning up a crime scene is gross works in he and Connor's favor. The police are just as happy to turn the job over to them. As the officer hands Malcolm the mop, Malcolm asks him if he can try to keep the crowd back. "It'll help us get the job done faster."

He lets out a slow breath as the police leave he and Connor alone with the body. "Thanks," he says to the android.

i've been sick, i'm so sorry this took so long!

[lickstheevidence]

Connor stares at him for a moment, his LED spinning yellow as he processes this change of tack, but then he nods enthusiastically, like the idea of being part of the clean-up crew had been his intention all along.

"Yes, the morgue. Don't mind my enthusiasm, I'm just a bit of an armchair detective. I might be a little envious of the real ones." His smile is shaky, and he feels that he's saying too much and trying to hard to convince the officers here. He winces inwardly and is tempted to slap his own forehead, but he's able to stop himself before it gets to that point. Still, it doesn't seem that any harm has been done, as they were all too happy to leave he and Malcolm with the clean-up duties.

Now that they're alone with the body, he nods to Malcolm in acknowledgment and crouches down before Malcolm can use the mop- he assumes they'll have to make a show of cleaning, at least -and sticks two fingers into the blood pool, bringing them to his mouth. In Detroit, with Cyberlife's servers, the identity of the victim would be known immediately with the information obtained from the blood. He's not sure how much good it will do here without that database at his disposal, but the pull of programming is strong.

that's okay!

[prodigalmess]

Seeing the LED on Connor's head, there's no way that this android don't know Chloe. Clearly they must come from the same world. He's not exactly a slick talker, but sometimes Malcolm isn't either, and he doesn't even have to fight against whatever programming androids might have.

At first, Malcolm thinks that Connor is about to move the body. "Oh, don't-" Then he sees the android dip his fingers in the blood and put them in his mouth. For once, Malcolm is stunned into silence.

"Uh. What?"

[lickstheevidence]

Connor knows Chloe, very well in fact. And though they do come from the same world with the same ultimate creator, their backgrounds couldn't be more different. Connor is a prototype detective, assigned to work with the Detroit Police. His programming was hijacked and used in a way the original coders may never have intended, but he was meant to be another tool in the police's arsenal against criminals. He's never been the lead on a case, but it was his own deviancy that led him here to investigate, to shed the role of being just another tool. The jury is probably still out on that.

Hank had finally and reluctantly gotten- no scratch that, Hank had never gotten used to the bells and whistles that Cyberlife had included in their design of Connor, but he'd come to sort of accept them, so it's a bit of a surprise to note that Malcolm is eyeing him like he's grown another head. ...Or just tasted some blood. Connor stands, absently wiping the remaining blood on his jeans as he shrugs at Malcolm.

"I was analyzing the blood. I can check forensic samples in real time. I should have warned you first, I'm sorry. I don't even know why I did that, it's not like there's a database here to tell me the identity of the victim- or the perpetrator. But he must have cut himself, there was some male DNA mixed in." Okay, that might not necessarily have been from blood. Right.

"We should keep investigating."

[prodigalmess]

Malcolm blinks. "Holy shit." The fact that Connor is able to do that is amazing. Malcolm wishes that he could do it, if it wasn't so gross.

"It's not uncommon for perpetrators to accidentally cut themselves when they're stabbing someone else," Malcolm says. He's fascinated now. "No databases, but maybe you can tell me something about the blood? Blood type?" Then he has another idea. "If you tasted the blood of a suspect, would you be able to match it to that blood?"

Connor is a walking DNA test.

III.

[howlett]

With his suspenders and flat cap he looks like any number of workers across the docklands. Being a man about as old as London's most famous murderer Logan fits in well in this town. Enough to know that terms like "contaminate the crime scene" don't get thrown around much.

"You ain't wrong, bub. But I'm willin to bet a good few of them cops can't even read let alone know what the flamin' hell contaminate the crime scene means."

Not that he means to discourage. His hand lands heavy on this rational man's shoulder as he steps up to try and help.

"I wouldn't touch the blood or the body boys. Lookit her. To go out like that— woman's gotta be cursed with something you don't want on you."

Superstition, to his recollection, can be a lot more motivating than logic.

[prodigalmess]

Malcolm opens his mouth to protest, but Logan's idea is actually a pretty good one. There's a strong possibility that these police officers are superstitious, and this could be an easy way to get them away from the crime scene.

The cops look a bit worried at Logan's suggestion, as they consider that whatever insidious curse befell this woman might now befall them.

"It's true," Malcolm agrees. "You might as well let me clean it up." He puts his hands out in a shrug. "I'm already cursed."

An exaggeration? Or not?

[howlett]

He doesn't need to smell the nervousness that besets them to spot the way the younger ones fidget anxiously amongst themselves as their seniors look Malcolm and Logan up and down.

"Why would any man want to involve himself in a mess like this?" one asks suspiciously.

Logan juts his thumb towards the little church on the corner. "The clergy tip him out to keep the street tidy before Sunday," he says with all the ease of a practiced con man. "This is Whitechapel. It's hard enough to sell faith around here without..." he doffs his caps and points it towards the body.

The officers exchange glances and whispers. "Clean it up," one finally concedes. "She's bound for the morgue before noon."

[prodigalmess]

Malcolm's suit is pretty nice. He probably doesn't look like someone who cleans the street. Fortunately, the cops are freaked out enough that they're happy to let Malcolm and Logan take care of the body. The office with the mop shoves it into Malcolm's hands as the group of them wander off.

"Thanks," Malcolm says quietly. "Have you ever analyzed a crime scene before?"

Logan's put himself into this now, so hopefully Malcolm can count on a bit more help.

[howlett]

Logan shrugs and smiles apologetically like he knows his lies were wearing a little thin, but so long as the officers are distracted enough to let someone who's lived in the 20th century or beyond take a crack at things, he's happy.

"Don't mention it. This guy's getting bold. Comin' after travellers too," he says. "Place needs a real cop for a change— err.. is that what you are? Some kinda cop?"

That noncommittal bobble of his head looks like he's reluctant to say exactly. "Not officially," he offers. "Analyze is a... formal sorta word. But I seen my fair share of crime scenes. And I know how to follow a lead."

[prodigalmess]

"I consult with the NYPD and I worked for the FBI," Malcolm replies, then glances up at Logan. "He's attacking Travelers?" This is the first he's heard of it, and he agrees that it signifies a big problem.

"Okay," he says. He can work with that. The two men squat down over the body, taking in the pallid face and dead eyes, lids half closed. "That cut is very clean..."

Malcolm pulls a pair of leather gloves out of his inside jacket pocket and puts them on. They're not sterile by any means, but they're better than nothing. "Do you have gloves?" he asks.