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Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- a discovery of witches: kit marlowe,
- dc: harley quinn,
- detroit: become human: chloe,
- detroit: become human: connor,
- dragon age: anders,
- final fantasy: sephiroth,
- locked tomb: harrowhark nonagesimus,
- marvel: carter ghazikhanian,
- marvel: jennifer walters,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: wade wilson,
- my hero academia: takami keigo,
- oc: elenore evans,
- oc: saxsice king,
- penny dreadful: victor frankenstein,
- south park: kyle broflovski,
- uncharted: elena fisher,
- uncharted: nathan drake,
- uncharted: rafe adler,
- uncharted: samuel drake
Destination: Carcosa
✖ Carcosa
Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.
The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?
If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.
The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea.
There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.
Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.
The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.
All of the attendees are wearing masks.
You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.
Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.
Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.
No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.
Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.
Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.
The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.
The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.
There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?
Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?
Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.
You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.
There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.
Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.
You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.
It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.
Bonus: What's that? You want a Carcosa playlist? You've got it, babes!
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.
The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?
If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.
The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea. There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.
Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.
The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.
All of the attendees are wearing masks.You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.
Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.
Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.
No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.
Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.
Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.
The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.
The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.
There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?
Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?
Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.
You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.
There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.
You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.
It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.
Deadpool | Marvel Whatever U Like | OTAlllll the cool peeps
II. The Maskorade has ALL THE ELECTROLYTES YOU NEED, BABY!!
WELP. Prompt numero uno didn't last very long at all. Deadpool didn't even get through his terribly clever title for it before he fell unconscious when one of the little buggers turned towards him and looked at him with its creepy blank face. He swore to himself and grabbed a drink from a passing fancy waiter type person. Was he back in the orgy?
"I bet I'm the first person to ever not make it through a prompt title. Starting this game off RIGHT."
With a smirk, he lifts the glass to his lips and it dribbles all around...rubber lips that are in front of his lips? He sporfles and sputters and swears as it runs between rubber and skin. Heedless of where it goes or who it hits, he throws the glass away and gropes at his face, feeling only rubber.
"What the red white and blue Anthony Mackie fuck?!? I need something reflective now! Gimme gimme." And he yanks the serving platter away from a very startled waiter, sending drinks flying. At least one of the drinks spilled in this thread likely ruin your fancy party attire, dear responder. As he looks at his reflection, he just starts to laugh.
For you see, what he sees is a very lifelike rubber Ryan Reynolds mask.
Tell a secret to get rid of it, you say? This is a man that won't be telling anyone anything remotely true all night.
IV. Well, at least not until after midnight, when he finds himself in the...Lost and Found Carcosa
"Fancy meeting you here, babe," he says, running a gloved hand fondling over the skull as they both stare out to sea. "But I guess it doesn't matter where I find myself, you'll always be there."
He sighs, and runs a hand back through the hair that has become "real" for the month. Was it just a bit rubbery? Meh. He'd still scored something far better than anyone else who had to tell a secret to ditch the mask. How many of them even realized what they were giving up? Maybe they all thought they were prettier on the flip side of the mask. He knew he wasn't. Wade would keep his Ryan Reynolds face, thankyouverymuch.
"Just not for me," he adds quietly. "Not even here. I tried to get them to kill me earlier, but they stuck me in a party where I scored this sweet gin soaked face. It's like they want me to stick around, for some reason. Dunno why. Nobody actually wants me. Not even you."
He frowns, as if that train of thought went a little bit too far for what he'd expected to say out loud. "You got me feeling a little emo tonight, babe. Our relationship isn't supposed to be about the angsty poetry all he wangsty teens write about you. Let's talk more about why you so bedazzled tonight. Does the pelvis match the skull, hot stuff?"
Deadpool watches the incoming tide of zombos, and honestly he probably doesn't mind if they drag him back with them when the ebb. After all, it's just his lady love reaching out to finally draw him into her lasting embrace.
Lost & Found
Kyle had felt strangely lonely wandering along the beach, but he'd chalked that up to the fog and the sound of the surf, reminders both that he was very far from home. He came to notice that the steady rhythmic sound of the waves was being interrupted by an off-beat sloshing. He'd paused on the beach, staring hard into the white wall of fog and wondering if there was perhaps an animal out there. Shapes gradually materialized, and with them so did sudden terror.
Which is how it came to be that Deadpool's tenderly melancholy moment is interrupted by a tall, gangly redhead running down the beach shrieking like a firebell. "ZOMBIES! FUCK! SHIT! THERE'S ZOMBIES!"
no subject
The shrieking about zombies was just pleasant background noise to the merc at first. After all, in any zombie movie, people always screamed about the zombies. That was just routine. But the shrieking drew closer and closer until the shrieker in question, in a blind panic, ran right into Deadpool as he was being drug, probably tripping the poor bastard up. More unfortunately still, his heel came down right on Deadpool's crotch. Normally, there'd be a cup there but the Masquerade suit that the little creepy guardians had stuck him in did not have a cup. Whoops.
"OOOOOOOHHHHHH right in the Testipools!!!!!"
"Ryan Reynolds" rolled around holding his nuts for several moments until that throbbing subsided. Then he looked up at the zombies with a dejected sigh and then back at his Lady Love.
"Oh c'mon. Really? You know how badly I want to be with you." He frowned with his new face of sorts. It was a sad, lonely frown. "But I can't just let you have the poor gingers of the world."
The skull kept grinning its bedazzled grin at him. Sexy, but unhelpful.
"Oh for fuck's sake."
Unnoticed by him, his bracelet had fluctuated between colors all night, but it had settled on mostly orange-red-orange-red. Obviously, trying to kill the guardians and not playing along with the mask dilemma didn't please the powers that be. Now though the colors moved towards the lighter end of the spectrum. Definitely not violet, but red was no longer flashing through.
With a quick, fluid motion, his katanas flew out and cut off the arms holding him. They continued to hang on, giving him an odd Goro appearance, but the zombies themselves now wandered, disarmed. One katana went back into its sheath and out came a gun. Multiple zombie heads popped with the sharp CRACKCRACKCRACK of his gun going off.
Fortunately, he'd saved the guy from the zombie horde in this area.
Unfortunately, there were no more zombies to drag him away. He'd given up his chance at death to save the guy who'd stomped his grapes.
no subject
"Ryan Reynolds?!"
no subject
He fired his gun again at one last zombie creeping up behind Kyle. Would there be more? Who knew? He glanced back to see what Death thought, but...she was gone. It was as if she'd never been there at all. His window to go to her had come and gone, and now he didn't even have her big beautiful face to flirt with. If he'd just let the zombos have this guy, he'd still get to be with her but...no. He couldn't do that.
"You really kill the mood, kid, you know that?" Bitterness crept into his voice as he spoke. Of course, why he felt the need to call the guy a kid was beyond him. (Actually it wasn't, but he was playing nice with the meta stuff. On the inside, he was screaming that he got to hang out with the kid from Southpark.)
no subject
Kyle stands, brushing wet sand of of the snazzy suit he in no way would have had the fashion sense to pick out. He looks more annoyed than anything else. "Thanks. For the rescue and all."
no subject
"Forget about it," he replies, staring at the place where the skull had been. Part of him wondered if this guy could see it even though Wade couldn't. That'd be pretty much par for the course. "It's better than a Deadpool movie at least, right?"
(Ugh. Self deprecating is NOT a good look on us. This is why Death is kinda bad for us, you know that right?)
"YOU shut up." It comes out as a snap, but clearly not at Kyle. But then he does look at Kyle as if he wasn't just talking to his parenthesis and nods. "Yeah. Well. If you are in a John Carpenter movie, you have to help people out, right? Just playing my part here."
He stands and stretches. Being dragged by zombies wasn't very good for the old spine, and it crackles and pops. "Say, you haven't seen a sexy skull hanging out on the beach that is surprisingly good at getting you to bare your soul, have you?"
cw: tasteless murder jokes i guess
Kyle gives him a look. "O-kay. Uh, yeah, yeah I guess so. So, thanks again."
He gives Wade another look, because there's only one kind of person who describes skulls as 'sexy' and that's serial killers. Which might explain how the guy was so good with weapons. Oh. Oh shit. He's about to get Dahmered by Ryan Reynolds.
"Uhm. No. But it looks like there's something further down the beach if you're really dead set on checking it out. What the hell were you baring to a skull, anyway?"
Also CW for shameless promotion of Reynolds properties!!!
(He still thinks you're Ryan Reynolds, not Deadpool. This is going to make no sense. But hey, you didn't mention Disney at least. Also...do we know he's Kyle from Southpark yet? You might be jumping the gun there.)
"Eh. Just my death wish. No big." And his feelings of not being wanted by anyone, but that wasn't something that was ever seeing the light of day with anyone else. "Watch out for whatever's further down the beach. This may be a zombie free zone for now, but 28 feet later might be a different story. You might want to hang out here and crack open a bottle of delicious Aviation gin with me here. It's unlikely your Mint Mobile plan will work out here to call for help. You are legal right? Eh fuck it, I doubt it matters."
I've had that gin.
"...Oh. Uh. Are you okay, Mr. Reynolds? Like, do you need someone to talk to, or a hotline number or...?" Not that there's any phones here, Kyle. Also it's the 1920s, hotlines aren't yet a thing.
He looks up the beach, then back and Wade. He shrugs. "I'm twenty-three," he mutters. "You seriously have gin on you somewhere?"
It's good! I'm a huge fan of non-standard gins that don't rely on juniper!
(Hugh Jackman chose to retire, you dipshit.)
It's okay Kyle, what is time anyway? Deadpool whips out a bottle of Aviation from a convenient pouch. How does a fancy party suit have a bajillion pouches? Contracts, my friend. Deadpool is contractually obligated to have pouches. It's a thing.
"I seriously do." He also pulls out a few glasses from another pouch. "Glasses too. Let's get wasted and forget about zombies and psychos on the beach."
(Never mind that he thinks YOU are the psycho.)
"Gin fixes all things. Especially Aviation gin. Statistically the best gin if you run the numbers right."
In the background Jeff the Land Shark is leaping on a zombie and taking it down with much chomping.
Hendricks is my jam. Have you tried Roku?
Where is this guy pulling everything from? Best not to think about it.
"Uh, sure. Yeah, sure, thanks." Because why not? "I've never had gin."
I have not! But learning that it is a Japanese gin, I am intrigued!
Deadpool plops down in the surf, twists the glasses into the sand to make little stable cup holders, and pours out several fingers of gin for each of them. The sand is wet enough to make the task easy, but the water isn't crashing over them this high up or anything.
"Some would say you still won't have. I tend to shoot those people. But this stuff doesn't have much juniper at all. It's more spicy. Not hot spicy, but like your cardamom." H
if you like a more floral gin it's nice
Kyle sits down, figuring his suit is already filthy. He wonders if he'll be able to take it with him whenever they get off of the island, because he really hates the robes they were given. Feels too cult like.
"Okay," he says as if he has any opinion at all. He sips the gin and grimaces a little, but only because he's not much of a drinker. "It's nice?" he tries.
Floral is my FAVE!!! Gin is the tea of liquors to me. I have a brilliant lavendar one.
"Yeah. Now buy a bunch of it and make Ryan Reynolds happy." He downs his entire glass. "So what was your secret? Or did you hit up the masquerade?"
Now Jeff just goes dashing by in front of them, clearly having fun with the ocean.
"Jeff clearly approves of applying sea salt to zombie steaks."
Hendricks did a Midsummer one last year that was delish but something in it set off my allergies lol
Also he's distracted by the shark. Why is there a shark?
Is he allowed to HAVE a shark? Wade, are you breaking the game already?"...Jeff. Right." Not a bad name for a shark, though. Kinda cute.
"Uhm, I went to it, yeah," Kyle says. "The masquerade I mean. You figured it out too, huh? The secret thing. But yeah, I told this girl one. I don't really want to tell you, though, Mr. Reynolds. It's pretty embarrassing."
I will have to look more into Hendricks...and hope Roku is available locally!
The best part is that Jeff is a land shark, with legs. It's something that becomes more clear as Jeff hops up to them, nuzzles Kyle, and bites Wade. Affectionately. But still a bite.
"OW!!!" He grumbles and pets Jeff, who dangles from his chest now. "The dangers of a pet land shark. But he's just so adorable in his violence."
Then he turns to some unseen force. "Hey now! You didn't say I couldn't have a pet!! Ah HA! Technicalities!!! Oh wait. You have more narrative power than me here. Don't you dare narrate my Jeff out of existence. DON'T YOU DARE!!!"
Then his gaze slides back to Kyle and away from Not-The-Telepath-Emma. "Oh yeah. It's why I lied all night."
(Ahem. Yellow boxes here. If you would prefer us to edit out the fairly direct callout here, we totally can. He's just been wanting to compare you to Emma Frost for a little while. Why? Just because it's there and he can.)
no subject
"I mean, he IS really cute, but..."
But you only get to arrive on the Isles with that fun robe, Wade. Necessities are provided in the Temple. Jeff, while adorable, is not a necessity. He has to go to a farm now, where he'll be happier. But you can win him back later with reward points, I promise.
The shark inexplicably vanishes with a sad snort. Sorry, Jeff. We know you're people, too.
Kyle, baffled, just stares at where the shark was before looking back to Wade. "Then how did you get the mask off?" he asks suspiciously, as the narrator waved off the callout because where did you THINK I got the name, boxes?
no subject
Deadpool makes grabby hands as Jeff disappears. He immediately leaps up and stomps about, furious.
"I BLAME YOU, THRESHY!!! YOU DID THIS!!!"
(You can't just blame your BFF for every consequence you suffer for breaking the rules, buddy.)
"YES I CAN!!!" He pulls out his gun and shoots at the air.
(Oh hey, that's great, fire at the powers that be that specified you only arrive on the island with a robe and nothing else like weapons. See how well that goes for keeping said weapons.)
"Oh GODDAMMIT."
He's in full on tantrum mode now as his weapons inevitably disappear, but lest we godmode for the GM narration, which would be one helluva feat, we'll let that happen in the next reply. For now...
"I DIDN'T," he snaps, rounding on Kyle. Then he rubs his forehead. "Well, that didn't last long. How am I not good at being the guy who plays me in movies that come out a hundred years from now? That feels pretty ironic."
A thought occurs to him. "How am I supposed to defeat any zombies that come at us now?"
(Why did you have to say that out loud after just antagonizing those powers? Wait, do we even still have gin?)
"Pouches," he mutters, "My robe at least had pouches. And pouches give me the power of random shit."
no subject
Kyle scoots back a little at that reaction. He's used to people making no sense, and has also honed a pretty good sense of self preservation in the process. He will feel no shame in running away down the beach if this gets any worse.
"Uhm. I dunno, dude."
Wade you goon, you have a lovely 1920s suit on. Which admittedly does have pockets. They even have lint in them. But that's it.
From the fog comes the soft, insidious sound of figures sloshing through the surf. Suck on THAT alliteration.
no subject
Deadpool is testing how much meta knowledge this guy might have. On one level, he knows this is Kyle from Southpark. But in character, he's trying to play it like he doesn't. Because he shouldn't. He does know that's in a rule somewhere. But hey, if meta knowledge starts coming outta this carrot top, then who knows where they could go with it?
"Aw man." he pulls out a timepiece. For a moment, he appreciates the fact that 1920s pouches...er...pockets...come with 1920s style like pocket watches. "Exactly 28 minutes later, too. Natch. Hey guy, how do you feel about being used as a bludgeoning weapon? I seem to now be down my whole arsenal. I snuck a bunch of shit in up my ass, including Jeff. I'll give you a moment to picture that."
And he does actually give Kyle a moment. Even two or three. It's worth picturing and savoring. Think of Jeff wiggling. Also of sandpapery shark skin. Mmmmmm, ain't that just a visual.
"But I got caught. So now I have you and I have my fists and Ryan Reynolds' immaculate hair. Threshy stole all of my shit, and somewhere he's sitting around laughing at me. Anyways, of all of these things, you are the best weapon. You are gangly and have many sharp points. I can throw your 'bows for you."
no subject
Too bad for Wade; Kyle isn't allowed to be that meta. He also has not ascended to an elevated plane of existence since he was ten. But he might sing you the Imaginationland song some day.
He scowls, because as nuts as Ryan Reynolds might be, nobody is using him as a club. The expression twists a moment later because my GOD that poor little shark. And who in the hell is Threshy?!
One thing at a time.
"You are NOT using me as a weapon," Kyle says firmly. "Why don't you just use your own fists? Or a big rock or something?"
no subject
"Yes. That's it. That's it exactly. Where Ryan Reynolds fails in life and is too pretty to get his hands dirty, I step in and succeed for him." But he will hold you to that Imaginationland promise. Don't you forget it!
"Wait, are there rocks on this beach?" It's a good question. He hasn't looked around to see if this is one of those rocky beaches or one of those super smooth tropical funtimes beaches.
But he does frown at Kyle not giving him consent to use his body as a weapon. "Awwww...you are no fun. You have so many spear points on you, too. Surely being used as a weapon can't be new to you. Some bully in your childhood had have had that idea before me!" He grumbles and mutters. "Shutup, parenthesis. Before you even say anything I know I'm better than some bully in his childhood."
(Actually, we're not. We did used to put Weasel in the Box, remember?)
"Oh yeah...does that mean I should use him as a weapon without his consent?"
(I mean. It's better than dying to zombies.)
Deadpool eyes Kyle, really considering it.
(But probably against the rules. And even if it's not, we don't have many friends here. We're a newbie. Gotta play it cool.)
"Fine. Alright, you win with your bodily autonomy stuff. But we're probably going to get eaten by zombies unless you have better ideas than a rock."
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Kyle squints at Deadpool, as if debating whether not he should keep engaging with him or just bolt up away from the water. The fact that he keeps speaking to the air about using Kyle's body as a weapon is a little concerning to say the least.
"Yeah, you're... not even close to some bully from my childhood." Which is true. Also true, Wade, is that bullying's not cool. Bullying is lame. Bullying is ugly, and has a stupid name.
"Dude, hitting zombies with ME just means they'll eat ME. So fuck you, no. He looks at the fog nervously; the more time they spend arguing the closer the undead are getting. Thank god they're not the running kind. Not one to be left entirely defenseless, he's grabbing a rock for himself if nothing else. "And you cna stay hre if you want, but I'm gonna try and get the fuck off this beach."
CW: Self Harm and broken bones!
Okay okay, props for bullying the word "bully". Let's beat it up after zombo school and take its lunch money!
"Man, you have so little faith in my fighting skills. Also it's cute that you think we're getting off this beach before the plot is done with us. That ain't normal fog right there. That's get lost and return to where you started fog. Or maybe that's The Mist from that Stephen King novella. Either way...I know this is saying a lot, but you're safer with me than running."
Deadpool thinks for a few moments. Gone seems to be his death wish, now that he has this guy that he's trying to protect. Then, having an idea, he yanks the rock out of Kyle's hand.
"Okay, gimme a sec. And a CW for some self-harm." He rests balled up fist on the ground, elbow up. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch. Might wanna turn away if you're squeamish."
**SKIP TO THE END HERE TO AVOID THE BAD STUFF**
And then he proceeds to bash his arm at the joint so that it snaps downward, exposing bone. As he does so, he sings a delightful sea shanty that jumps up in pitch several times as he hits himself over and over until the arm is dangling. It IS the year of the sea shanty after all. Or, it was where he came from. When he's bashed it enough, he uses the rock to hold his useless lefty down and yanks until it comes all the way off. The end of the bone sticking out is jagged and serrated at this point.
**RESUME**
"Alright." He tosses the bloody rock back to Kyle. "I have a decent weapon now. It's not my katana, but when I have some time to sharpen it up it'll do. For now, it has more than enough stabbing action to work on slowmo zombies." He jabs the air with his stump. "This too actually! Until it grows back, but that'll be an hour or two."
He waves his arm at the sky. "ARE YOU HAPPY THRESHY?!? I CAN MAKE MY OWN KATANAS!"
CW: Blood! Violence!
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