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15corpses2023-05-10 04:41 pm
strangerpeople) wrote in 15corpses2023-05-10 04:41 pm
at once short of life, and long of sorrow.
[You are dead.
Well, obviously. You remember how you died. It was...not fun, to say the least. But hey, at least you're off that ship, right?
Except...you don't know exactly where you are now. It seems like a house, but if it is, it's...a work in progress. Most of the rooms are empty, and your steps echo up through the marble columns and down faint mosaics on the tiled floor. The few windows you find have a green light gleaming through them; you can't really see anything beyond the eerie light.
It feels like you're in a temple of some kind. The columns and mosaics seem to indicate it is something like that-it's certainly reminiscent of something out of an ancient culture, perhaps even one you're familiar with. For some reason, though, it's clear someone-or something-lives here. One of the rooms to the south is stuffed with pizza boxes. Another, larger room has a makeshift futon in one of the corners. There are imprints of multiple footsteps all through the dusty floors as you look around, many of them leading to a small alcove to the west. And-
and there's a giant van. Just. hanging out there. Completely out of place with the seemingly ancient decor. And inside, there is the sound of light snoring.
Ok then. You're apparently not alone in death, after all.]
((OoC: Map for reference.))
Well, obviously. You remember how you died. It was...not fun, to say the least. But hey, at least you're off that ship, right?
Except...you don't know exactly where you are now. It seems like a house, but if it is, it's...a work in progress. Most of the rooms are empty, and your steps echo up through the marble columns and down faint mosaics on the tiled floor. The few windows you find have a green light gleaming through them; you can't really see anything beyond the eerie light.
It feels like you're in a temple of some kind. The columns and mosaics seem to indicate it is something like that-it's certainly reminiscent of something out of an ancient culture, perhaps even one you're familiar with. For some reason, though, it's clear someone-or something-lives here. One of the rooms to the south is stuffed with pizza boxes. Another, larger room has a makeshift futon in one of the corners. There are imprints of multiple footsteps all through the dusty floors as you look around, many of them leading to a small alcove to the west. And-
and there's a giant van. Just. hanging out there. Completely out of place with the seemingly ancient decor. And inside, there is the sound of light snoring.
Ok then. You're apparently not alone in death, after all.]
((OoC: Map for reference.))
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To remember - without flinching this time - the end of the trial, and come to realizations he could not before.
"I told you. I won't do what you want me to."
...Ah, his Akane...perhaps he truly was getting old, to have missed such an obvious thing. But that was who she was, and most likely, in the end, she realized he would understand eventually.
Ah, and then, that flash before his end - her face...
Yes, he was truly daft at times, was he not?
Still, then, regardless of how silly he'd been - the faint sense of something is what spurs him on to action. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but for just the briefest of moments, he could have sworn someone Called for him.
Even if it wasn't true, he could hardly keep sitting around here like a lump, waiting to rot away in an Underworld he wasn't meant to be in.
So -]
Experiments in portals
[Anyone around will see Moriarty making a few Portals here and there - which all seem to always point to the same spot, being the first place he found himself when he woke up.
There's a sigh of exasperation after the 5th one, as he waves it away with a huff.]
Well, I suppose it couldn't be that easy, hm? If it were, everyone could escape Hades' underworld without a second thought.
[...]
...Even if I wish I could merely to be away from that one scruffy annoyance for a time.
Deals to be made with the Gimme
[Since his experiments didn't bear fruit, then it is time to barter with the one being that has been seen both here in the underworld and on the ship - the Gimme, or his true identity, Charon.
He approaches the being empty handed, but with a pleasant smile on his face.]
Hello, Charon. I have a request to make, if it is at all possible?
Wildcard
[Have another idea in mind? Hit me up!]
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Regardless, he's listening.]
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[He's winding up here, give him a second.]
I would not insult you with asking to be ferried back to the living - of course, I'm well aware that is asking far too much. However...Would it be possible, perhaps, for something small from one of us to be placed in your care for the living to receive? Something, perhaps, like a letter?
I would understand if you would demand payment for such a service, as well - one must make a living where they can. But...if you could, I would be ever so grateful, o mighty Charon.
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Hhhrrrrrhhhhnnnn...
[Charon mimes holding something, then hiding it in his robes. Then, he extends one arm, and draws the finger of the other across his wrist. He watches Moriarty's response closely.]
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Well, this could mean multiple things, and he's going to need specifics before agreeing.]
...Am I correct in assuming you wish to be paid in blood, if we give you something to carry over? I personally have no qualms with giving you such a thing from myself, if that is what it takes, though I would wish to know the amount first.
[WHY IS IT ALWAYS BLOOD HERE]
Or is it that they will have to pay in blood to receive it?
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As for amounts. First, Charon produces a small urn. Then, a small, glittering brooch, and he traces a line at a level that looks like it would be about six ounces. Charon hides the brooch once more, and produces a ten pound dumbbell, and traces another line - this one around a pint. The dumbbell is returned to the shadows, and this time the object is a cauldron. It's about big enough to make a meal for a family of four. This time, the line Charon draws is around two and a half pints. He puts the cauldron away.]
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That more than answers my question, thank you. I will be coming to you with something shortly, after I find the appropriate items.
[He bows towards Charon, again.]
And my deepest gratitude for being willing to accept such a request! If you have anything you need to ask of me - please, I beg you to not hesitate, no matter how large or small.
WILDCARD
[He's wiping the sword he got from his wings, staring at the room full of pizza boxes.]
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[He blinks, before giving a sharp grin. They fucking up that horrid room?]
And what do you happen to have in mind, Vergil?
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[He just has portals, my dude. Though if he had his coffin, that'd be another thing entirely.]
Though I suppose I should count myself lucky that I still have gloves to wear during this.
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[He sounds so confident.]
Your portals may come in handy, though, for a ranged attack.
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[He's at least good natured about it!]
So! Where shall we start, my friend?
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[With a flourish, he summons his wings, and proceeds to toss them into the piles, skewering three, four, five, six boxes at a time.]
If this place belongs to who I think it does, I refuse to be punished for my brother's laziness.
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Hades, you mean? Yes, that would fit, wouldn't it?
[Stack...stack...]
I'd rather not be punished either.
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[He starts to pick up the swords that has stabbed through the boxes. Already a few dozen are out, and there's a small hole, though some of those piles are tilting precariously on the edge.]
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[Said with exasperation, because that sure was a thing that happened.]
While I appreciated the help in getting materials for a letter to give to Charon, One would think that they would merely tell the truth in order to get it over with.
[He'll go and help keep the piles from falling....hopefully. If he is buried in a wave of pizza boxes, remember him fondly Vergil.]
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[He puts his skewers in nice rows.]
There might be a reason. Perhaps our presence here is like allowing intruders into the house. And if we should be caught, that alone might be sacrilege.
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[Okay, precarious piles have been lowered....time to set them aside while he works.]
For myself, I should have immediately been whisked away to the Throne of Heroes upon the death of my Incarnated body.
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[Sounds different. He sends more swords out to skewer more pizza boxes. Holy crap they're making a dent finally!!]
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[He shrugs, casually.]
I am one of these. From the Throne, it sends...hm. 'Copies', so to speak, of these spirits - which become Heroic Servants, as they 'Serve' their summoner, or 'Master.'
Once they are finished, these 'copies' return back to the throne, and their experiences are 'recorded' into the Heroic Spirit still there. So, in truth, I should have been 'recorded' back into the Heroic Spirit 'James Moriarty'.
[Just casually talk about yourself and your temporal death. it's fine.]
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It certainly sounds....fascinating.
[He's not lying. The idea that one doesn't die, but can be brought back, and become functionally immortal...it's quite...tempting.
Maybe not as much as before, but still. Tempting.]
Instead, you're here. Unfortunate.
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[He notes the pause - Vergil might get the impression he's almost being studied with a gaze that turns almost as sharp as a blade, for a moment - but then it passes, and in it's place is the same polite british gentleman from before.]
Indeed! I assume it has something to do with Charon, but I am enjoying the detour for the moment. Or, perhaps, something to do with that I have a Devil Arm's powers?
Yamato, I believe you called it?
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[He's fishing for info as he cleans, alright. better than just griping about the sheep or dante again.
...Moriarty is SURPRISINGLY fast at cleaning - alone he's already gotten one half of the room almost done, as he grabs digs out the bed and groans.]
...I cannot believe he thought offering his bed as a prize would be appropriate.
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