Discord
EXAMINE: THOUGHTS
'What makes you think this is a prank? Do you really believe that?'
gotta be a prank. has to be.
had some of th' guys at the old garage pullin' stuff like this.
well-
nothin' like this but
i dunno. messin' with me
...better be that.
not ready to deal with if it Isnt
...i dont wanna die man i need outta here
RECALL: MEMORY
'Why are you down here?'
Docket places a claw to its temple as it nears the stairway.
things're
fuzzy still. why'd-
right
rightright i was on a job
thats why i had my tools
some guy - sounded like some fancy too-good-for-you kinda prick
wanted me to come out to his lodge. fix
fix Somethin'
paid extra to have me come out to his place
or some he owns i think
a lodge
way the hell outta th' way of all my usual jobs
ol' truck barely made it out here
my TRUCK-jus' need to get to my truck, n' im gone.
SUGGEST: PERSPECTIVE CHANGE
'Denial won't help, something is deeply wrong, Treat the situation as deadly serious'
The chorosy's chest pounds.
this
oh it's bad.
i was k-
kiddin' myself about th-
nobody would toss me in here and hook me up to-
oh hell. man, i-
Breath comes faster through its gasmask.
Its knees shake as it leans forward,
supporting itself on the bottom of the stairs.
Its eyes stay locked on the wooden door above.
c'mon
go.
GO, DAMMIT.
god i dont, i d-
i dont wanna know what the hell's up there-gotta GET A GRIP, oh
C'MON--
Something small appears on the stairs a few steps up from the chorosy's position.
It jumps, reeling back onto the floor.
When it gets a better look,
it cocks its head to the side.
A small, black box wrapped in a grey ribbon sits on the middle of the step.
The still-shaking chorosy
cautiously
steps forward - too curious Not too examine it further.
It spies a tag attached to the bow of the ribbon.
Leaning in, it reads it.
TO: Docket
FROM: Mort
The chorosy steps back, shaking its head.
"...Uh-uh.
Nope. I don't-
Who the hell is...?"
It goes quiet,
glancing around the room.
is
someone fuckin'
listening In???
The chorosy avoids the box entirely for the moment,
giving one last glance to the door at the top of the stairs.
Docket turns around, pacing momentarily between the mattress and the stairs,
nervously adjusting its vest.
SUGGEST: CHARACTER ACTION
'Investigate the ominous door at the back of the room.'
It takes notice of the iron door.
With a quick breath, it steels itself, walking over.
It sees the door a little better the closer it gets:
The door has a metal handle--
Something pops up in front of the chorosy,
startling it once again.
"fUCKI N--"
It's a blue note with yellow text, attached to the ceiling via a thin string.
The note bounces and swings gently, its movement quickly slowing;
as if it'd been freshly hung and dropped from above.
The chorosy looks between the note and the ceiling, squinting to try and discern anywhere it could've come from.
Seeing nothing, Docket rubs its face;
hesitating, but ultimately deciding to step closer and read the note.
You've got some help, in case you get in trouble.
- Shimmer
" . . . "
screw it.
It pushes the note away dismissively.
dont got time t' figure this out im done Im Done i am Gone man
SUGGEST: CHARACTER ACTION
'Cautiously step out the wooden door and examine surroundings.'
Docket makes its way back to the stairs.
It watches the present.
nah dont- do Not mess with that
theres gonna be like a viper in there
gonna bite my face.
or like a bomb thats set to go off when i open it- i am NOT about to deal with that
Still shaking its head, it gently nudges the present aside with its boot,
leaving it on the stairs as it continues up.
It nears the door.
A mauve note on with aubergine text bounces down in front of its face,
loosing another gasp from the chorosy,
followed by an annoyed grunt.
this is gettin' Old REAL fast
It grabs the note.
'Hi, the name's scrimbob, hope this helps! ?'
- Scrimbob
The chorosy pulls the note down with ease and tosses it aside onto the basement floor.
Undeterred as it reaches the door.
CAUSE: RANDOM EVENT
A thunderous, cacophonous CRASH sounds somewhere through the wooden door.
Docket freezes in place, shoulders up,
wrench raised defensively.
Its resolve comes through,
an unsteady claw reaching out
opening the door as quietly as possible -
wincing as it Creaks.
It peeks its head out.
It finds a long hallway, with many closed doors:
One straight across the one it's at,
one across, but further down the hall to the right,
and another at the far right end of the hall.
To the left, though,
it can see Far down the hallway, where it seems to end in a big room.
An uncomfortable-looking, decorative couch is visible; green with a brown-gold patterning.
Red curtains cover windows behind it.
Most dismaying, though,
is the front door.
The heavy, wooden door has been crunched into a leaned position, broken in half,
pushed into itself.
The force of the presumed blow that struck it had dug it into the floor,
messily ripping and impaling the doormat.
It stands open - entirely motionless,
smashed into place; snapped and pulverized like a limb wrenched backwards.
Docket can see straight outside.
A dim, yellow porch light lights up the entryway,
a few steps leading down from the rather spacious porch.
Trees are visible past it, branches swaying audibly in the soft, night breeze.
The chorosy can't think to move.
It can't think to do much of anything, at the moment.
It's claws grip the doorway with supportive force,
as if even the slightest movement would draw in the culprit of the break-in.
i could
i could run for it, i-
get to th' truck. if the truck's out there then i can high-tail it the hell outta here and
and i wont look back. and ill get home, and ill go to bed and this w-
and this wont be Real anymore. probably isnt, theyre-
someone's tr-
tryin' to
It grips the doorway tighter.
whos
gonna run the shop if
no
nope i can
i can, make it
Keeping as silent as it can,
it takes in a slow,
steady
breath.
on
on 3.
then i book it
Docket crouches ever-so-slightly,
taking a running stance.
'What makes you think this is a prank? Do you really believe that?'
gotta be a prank. has to be.
had some of th' guys at the old garage pullin' stuff like this.
well-
nothin' like this but
i dunno. messin' with me
...better be that.
not ready to deal with if it Isnt
...i dont wanna die man i need outta here
RECALL: MEMORY
'Why are you down here?'
Docket places a claw to its temple as it nears the stairway.
things're
fuzzy still. why'd-
right
rightright i was on a job
thats why i had my tools
some guy - sounded like some fancy too-good-for-you kinda prick
wanted me to come out to his lodge. fix
fix Somethin'
paid extra to have me come out to his place
or some he owns i think
a lodge
way the hell outta th' way of all my usual jobs
ol' truck barely made it out here
my TRUCK-jus' need to get to my truck, n' im gone.
SUGGEST: PERSPECTIVE CHANGE
'Denial won't help, something is deeply wrong, Treat the situation as deadly serious'
The chorosy's chest pounds.
this
oh it's bad.
i was k-
kiddin' myself about th-
nobody would toss me in here and hook me up to-
oh hell. man, i-
Breath comes faster through its gasmask.
Its knees shake as it leans forward,
supporting itself on the bottom of the stairs.
Its eyes stay locked on the wooden door above.
c'mon
go.
GO, DAMMIT.
god i dont, i d-
i dont wanna know what the hell's up there-gotta GET A GRIP, oh
C'MON--
Something small appears on the stairs a few steps up from the chorosy's position.
It jumps, reeling back onto the floor.
When it gets a better look,
it cocks its head to the side.
A small, black box wrapped in a grey ribbon sits on the middle of the step.
The still-shaking chorosy
cautiously
steps forward - too curious Not too examine it further.
It spies a tag attached to the bow of the ribbon.
Leaning in, it reads it.
TO: Docket
FROM: Mort
The chorosy steps back, shaking its head.
"...Uh-uh.
Nope. I don't-
Who the hell is...?"
It goes quiet,
glancing around the room.
is
someone fuckin'
listening In???
The chorosy avoids the box entirely for the moment,
giving one last glance to the door at the top of the stairs.
Docket turns around, pacing momentarily between the mattress and the stairs,
nervously adjusting its vest.
SUGGEST: CHARACTER ACTION
'Investigate the ominous door at the back of the room.'
It takes notice of the iron door.
With a quick breath, it steels itself, walking over.
It sees the door a little better the closer it gets:
The door has a metal handle--
Something pops up in front of the chorosy,
startling it once again.
"fUCKI N--"
It's a blue note with yellow text, attached to the ceiling via a thin string.
The note bounces and swings gently, its movement quickly slowing;
as if it'd been freshly hung and dropped from above.
The chorosy looks between the note and the ceiling, squinting to try and discern anywhere it could've come from.
Seeing nothing, Docket rubs its face;
hesitating, but ultimately deciding to step closer and read the note.
You've got some help, in case you get in trouble.
- Shimmer
" . . . "
screw it.
It pushes the note away dismissively.
dont got time t' figure this out im done Im Done i am Gone man
SUGGEST: CHARACTER ACTION
'Cautiously step out the wooden door and examine surroundings.'
Docket makes its way back to the stairs.
It watches the present.
nah dont- do Not mess with that
theres gonna be like a viper in there
gonna bite my face.
or like a bomb thats set to go off when i open it- i am NOT about to deal with that
Still shaking its head, it gently nudges the present aside with its boot,
leaving it on the stairs as it continues up.
It nears the door.
A mauve note on with aubergine text bounces down in front of its face,
loosing another gasp from the chorosy,
followed by an annoyed grunt.
this is gettin' Old REAL fast
It grabs the note.
'Hi, the name's scrimbob, hope this helps! ?'
- Scrimbob
The chorosy pulls the note down with ease and tosses it aside onto the basement floor.
Undeterred as it reaches the door.
CAUSE: RANDOM EVENT
A thunderous, cacophonous CRASH sounds somewhere through the wooden door.
Docket freezes in place, shoulders up,
wrench raised defensively.
Its resolve comes through,
an unsteady claw reaching out
opening the door as quietly as possible -
wincing as it Creaks.
It peeks its head out.
It finds a long hallway, with many closed doors:
One straight across the one it's at,
one across, but further down the hall to the right,
and another at the far right end of the hall.
To the left, though,
it can see Far down the hallway, where it seems to end in a big room.
An uncomfortable-looking, decorative couch is visible; green with a brown-gold patterning.
Red curtains cover windows behind it.
Most dismaying, though,
is the front door.
The heavy, wooden door has been crunched into a leaned position, broken in half,
pushed into itself.
The force of the presumed blow that struck it had dug it into the floor,
messily ripping and impaling the doormat.
It stands open - entirely motionless,
smashed into place; snapped and pulverized like a limb wrenched backwards.
Docket can see straight outside.
A dim, yellow porch light lights up the entryway,
a few steps leading down from the rather spacious porch.
Trees are visible past it, branches swaying audibly in the soft, night breeze.
The chorosy can't think to move.
It can't think to do much of anything, at the moment.
It's claws grip the doorway with supportive force,
as if even the slightest movement would draw in the culprit of the break-in.
i could
i could run for it, i-
get to th' truck. if the truck's out there then i can high-tail it the hell outta here and
and i wont look back. and ill get home, and ill go to bed and this w-
and this wont be Real anymore. probably isnt, theyre-
someone's tr-
tryin' to
It grips the doorway tighter.
whos
gonna run the shop if
no
nope i can
i can, make it
Keeping as silent as it can,
it takes in a slow,
steady
breath.
on
on 3.
then i book it
Docket crouches ever-so-slightly,
taking a running stance.
BOUND INFO:
CHANNELING:
CURRENT TOTALS: