INTRODUCTION

[petoskeymods]

INTRODUCTION

A sound wakes you up, muffled yet somehow near - the sound of a trumpet being played, from somewhere outside the building you're in. There's no fog, no headache as you greet a new day - only the confusion of being in an unfamiliar cabin, lying on top of an unfamiliar bunk bed in somewhere that is certainly not where you last closed your eyes. You're also pretty sure you weren't wearing this outfit before you somehow arrived here - so that's an uncomfortable thought. Yet, the cabin you're in is comfortable, but looking in the steamer trunks near the bunks will only result in finding normal toiletry items and sets of underwear and more of the same strange uniform. Your personal items have been stripped away - well, in the cases they're not absolutely essential for you to live.

Stepping outside, you find yourself in a very forested (and ungodly humid) area, outlooking a wide lake - there's cabins and other buildings next to yours, but the main thing that'll most likely attract attention are the three adults standing out in front of the largest building, bearing the name 'LODGE' on it in large letters. A woman, an older man, and a man in full priest garb, tooting away on a trumpet - your wakeup call, apparently. Just in front of them is a picnic table littered with markers and 'MY NAME IS' nametags.

Maybe you should go and demand some answers? Or will you just decide to explore...and try to find a way out of this weird camp?

Comments

[soylentprotag]

[Ah.

He feels the motion when she pulls the trigger through what grip he's managed, the impact from the blast, and even though there's no blood blowing out from the side of her head and a strange creature rears up instead (there's fear prickling at the edge of his awareness, things that aren't human that he doesn't recognize have never, ever been a good thing), Lenka doesn't quite register any of that just yet.

He can't, because he's too busy staggering back, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes and pushing down as hard as he can on the sudden clawing panic in his chest. The scent of blood still hanging in the air isn't helping matters.

Breathe. It's fine. Forget the sound. Forget the feel of it. Forget the blood, forget the urge to run. He'll just stand there for a while, still as a statue. Feel free to work around him.]