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Static
Dec 21, 2012 22:08:57 GMT -6
Post by Rie (CSF) on Dec 21, 2012 22:08:57 GMT -6
This post will serve as a place for character bios, as well as a refresher on what has happened in the story so far. Things will be added on as it progresses. CharactersName: Kyrie Age: 18 Height: 5'2” Appearance: Bio: Timid and dislikes confrontation, but still kind and willing to give someone a chance before she writes them off. A peaceful person, completely out of place in the world she now finds herself in. Tidbits: * She enjoys instrumental music, especially piano and violin. * Has had basic first-aid training due to her mother being a nurse, though she can only give short-term solutions to more grievous wounds.
Name: Kanon Age: 19 Height: 6'0” Appearance: Kanon is tall, and looks scary before you talk to him. He wears an old pair of jeans, torn at the knees and frayed at the edges from obvious years of wear and tear, and his sneakers show scuff marks and dirt. A jacket with a fur-lined hood and a plain t-shirt beneath completes the ensemble. [Picture is MIA until I draw one.] Bio: Kanon is met not long after Kyrie finds herself lost in the strange otherworld. His outward appearance is the opposite of his personality. He seems friendly, with a penchant for jokes and a bit flirtatious. Overall, he seems harmless. Tidbits: * Physically stronger than Kyrie due to his greater stature, so he is better suited for manual labor if Kyrie is unable to move something herself. * Will act as a shield between Kyrie and harm unless choices dictate he is not to help her. Though he might do so anyway. He's a goddamn gentleman. * His greater strength means that he can sometimes break down doors or rusty locks that Kyrie can't. Status: Alive Story So FarKyrie was invited to the town's annual New Years Eve party by her estranged father, who she has not spoken to in several months, due to his strange behavior toward her. She went to the party not expecting much, as attempts to reconcile had backfired before.
She waited, but neither of her parents ever showed up. Disgruntled, Kyrie had headed toward the coat room, intending to leave as the countdown to the new year was reaching its peak. The lights went out before the countdown could be completed, but she quickly realized that no one else seemed to be in the room with her. A door opening eventually lead her out of the dark room.
However nonsensical it was, Kyrie was in the subway. She intended to take the subway back to her apartment and forget about the entire night, despite several strange and completely illogical occurrences, topped off by a strange woman who had been in one of the bathroom stalls, which Kyrie was forced to subdue with the door.
To Be Continued... >> Playlist<<
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Static
Dec 21, 2012 22:09:10 GMT -6
Post by Rie (CSF) on Dec 21, 2012 22:09:10 GMT -6
((There will be no choices at the end of this post, as it is just an introduction and a set-up for the CYOA. The next part will have choices, however. Your 'reserved' places can be used to tell me what you think so far, even though I know it isn't much right now.))
Much of Ravengate's population had turned up for tonight. The annual New Years celebration held at the old town hall was attended every year by hundreds of people, and was one of the most popular events each year.
She had been convinced to come by her parents. Kyrie had intended to stay in her apartment and watch marathons on the couch, already having said no to invitations for bar hopping or dancing at clubs by friends. This winter had been a busy one, and she was still getting used to the area where she had moved, having lived with her parents until a few months ago, having left shortly after graduating.
Her relationship with her father had been strained for close to two years now, and Kyrie had moved out to both escape the creeping sense of displacement, but also to remove herself from his ever-watchful eye. The growing suspicion she saw there hurt far too much. She had spoken rarely to him since she had moved, so she was very surprised to receive a call earlier today, telling her to come to the party at the town hall. Her father had expressed the desire to clear the air, possibly start over.
It had still taken some convincing to get her to come, as he hadn't taken her arbitrary excuses as he usually did when they talked. Her father had tried to make up with her before, and it had backfired viciously. But he persisted until she gave in.
From her place in the corner, Kyrie observed the other attendants. There was a gentle song being played by the musicians from atop a raised platform, setting a backdrop for the murmured conversations only slightly louder than the violin.
She played with the stem of glass she had been handed by a server shortly after arriving, the sparkling water with lemon having gone virtually untouched. Her eyes had been occupied searching the crowd for her father and mother, but an hour and a half had already gone by and she had not seen either of them. She had been told the time they should be arriving, but that time had come and gone, plus the time that traffic could have delayed them.
From a screen bolted onto the wall, a newscaster stood with Times Square as a backdrop, speaking to various people in the large mass that had gathered to watch the ball drop at midnight. There was a timer in one corner, signifying that there was only five minutes to midnight, and some of the party guests had started to watch the screen, waiting.
Kyrie hadn't really expected much from this invitation, but her heart had dropped lower into her stomach with each passing minute and no appearance by her parents. She had hoped to see some of her friends at least to distract her, as they had mentioned possibly stopping by the hall. But the sea of faces showed no one that she recognized.
The gentle flow of music halted, and she looked up to see everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at the screen. The timer had reached the final seconds before midnight, and guests began to count down with the people from Times Square and the newscaster.
Kyrie set her glass down on a nearby table, heading toward the coat room to retrieve her coat. If her parents hadn't shown up by now, they weren't coming at all. This had been a waste of an evening and now she just wanted to go home and be miserable by herself.
She had made it half-way to the room as the countdown reached its fever pitch.
3, 2, 1...
Instead of an explosion of applause and cheering, Kyrie was met with dead silence. In the blink of an eye, all sound had ceased and the audible sound of the lights going out reached her ears instead as her eyes were met with darkness. There were no horrified gasps, no worried murmuring. Only the oppressive and endless silence, save for quiet breathing and the shuffle of her heels against the floor.
A creaking sound caused her to spin to the left, as a sliver of light that was expanding slowly came into view from the blackness. A door hung halfway open, as if beckoning her to enter.
Kyrie stood in the darkness, watching the doorway apprehensively. There was no movement and no sign of anyone else in the room, either coming or going through. She shuffled her feet again, unsure of herself. She couldn't just stand here in the dark, but the lack of any other soul in sight had started a feeling of cold fear to run up her spine.
A few hesitant steps were taken toward the light, and then more, until she slowly approached the doorway, still watching for the sign of anyone else. If this turned out to the an elaborate prank, however unlikely, it would really be the cherry on top of the horrible disappointments this night had thrown at her. Though as she passed through the doorway, there was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that warned of no pranks involved.
Something was incredibly wrong.
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Static
Dec 21, 2012 23:24:29 GMT -6
Post by Gabe Bar on Dec 21, 2012 23:24:29 GMT -6
Reserved for first vote my disappointment.
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Static
Dec 22, 2012 0:12:56 GMT -6
Post by Tbone110 The Amurican Bastard on Dec 22, 2012 0:12:56 GMT -6
Reserved for money shot into vagina monster.
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Static
Dec 22, 2012 14:22:04 GMT -6
Post by Rai Chiller on Dec 22, 2012 14:22:04 GMT -6
Reserved for ludicrously extensive underground laboratory under the mall
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Static
Jan 6, 2013 0:40:44 GMT -6
Post by Rie (CSF) on Jan 6, 2013 0:40:44 GMT -6
The only sound amidst the silence was her heels against the concrete as she made her way down the stairs. As she moved further down the stairwell, she began to see familiar posters and notices. As she reached the base of the stairs, a hallway dotted with more posters stretched before her.
The lights were dim, and there was the distinct smell of cigarette smoke and damp concrete. Kyrie wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing them nervously while the walked down the hall. There was still no sign of another person, and she was fighting to keep a calm outlook on the situation. While there was no way to rationally explain why every guest at the party had disappeared without a sound, it was still preferable to believing they'd just vanished into thin air.
The hallway ended, and to her left Kyrie noticed a large signboard like many of the others. But this one had an engraved title above the papers, reading 'Ravengate Station'.
She paused, remembering the posters, signs, and boards. They had been familiar, but she hadn't known how until now. Ravengate station had been connected to the town hall at one time, but after the tunnels were touched up, during construction, the area where the stairs to the town hall had been was replaced with a sandwich stand. But there was no stand, and somehow she was in the station now.
Kyrie had already taken the subway to get to the hall, so despite the strange circumstances, she decided to go home. But at the thought of home, and a brush of her thumb against her elbow, Kyrie realized she'd left her coat in the hall. As she turned back to return up the stairs and fumble in the dark for the coat room, she was startled to nearly run into the counter of the Jill's Sandwich stand.
There had been stairs. She had walked down stairs, then down a hallway. But there was only the closed and shuttered stand in front of her.
She sought a rational explanation immediately. She had gone off to the left to look at a sign board, so maybe she had passed the stand without seeing it. Maybe there had been a new tunnel connecting the town hall and the subway that she hadn't heard about. She continued to rationalize away, but still didn't try to look for this mythical hallway. A feeling in her gut told her she would find no such thing.
Instead, Kyrie turned back around, looking at the board. She would have to take the train at platform one to get to her apartment...
CHOICE TIME
A – Stop off at the bathroom. All of these B-horror scares require bladder relief. B – Look for the mythical hallway back to the town hall. That coat was expensive! C – Keep going to the turnstile. The sooner this is over, the sooner popcorn and stupid silent movies can be watched.
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Static
Jan 6, 2013 0:45:22 GMT -6
Post by AceTheMercenary on Jan 6, 2013 0:45:22 GMT -6
A.
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Static
Jan 6, 2013 1:01:05 GMT -6
Post by Gabe Bar on Jan 6, 2013 1:01:05 GMT -6
A. Because going to the bathroom alone is how you survive a B-list horror movie.
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Static
Jan 6, 2013 1:23:58 GMT -6
Post by Rai Chiller on Jan 6, 2013 1:23:58 GMT -6
A, bowel movements and urinary waste management are the keys to surviving horror stories as Gaybe said, make her take a ludicrous shit like the Nerd
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Static
Jan 6, 2013 2:04:07 GMT -6
Post by Veta on Jan 6, 2013 2:04:07 GMT -6
I want to say B because it's cold out, but I'm outvoted anyways.
._.
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Static
Jan 6, 2013 15:59:50 GMT -6
Post by Traveling Riverside Roj on Jan 6, 2013 15:59:50 GMT -6
A is for methamphetamine
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Static
Jan 8, 2013 5:26:22 GMT -6
Post by Rie (CSF) on Jan 8, 2013 5:26:22 GMT -6
While things were tinged with an air of strange far too thick to ignore, a familiar pressure below her stomach interrupted any thoughts of heading to the turnstile. Apparently what little of the beverage she had consumed at the party was coming back to haunt her. Kyrie glanced around momentarily, looking for the nearest bathroom. She quickly located the pair of bathrooms that were on this side of the turnstiles, and pushed open the door to the women's bathroom. It squeaked and sounded terribly loud in the quiet subway, but the sound was also familiar and made her feel somehow better. This was a normal sound she'd hear every time she was in the subway. Just to hear the simple squeak of a well-used door was enough to assure her that not everything was different, even though the situation demanded her to know that some things were not at all normal. The bathroom smelt of bleach and some unknown air freshener. Three stalls stood side by side, across from a long counter housing sinks and a mirror that took up the wall above them. Posters advertising hygiene and the importance of covering your mouth when you coughed hung near the hand dryers. For all intents and purposes, this was a bathroom, and it looked perfectly normal. Though she felt suspicion at what was almost an overdose of normalcy after her recent experiences, Kyrie entered one of the stalls, and emerged a minute later. Approaching one of the sinks, she lifted the tap and began to wash her hands, almost as if she were merely using the facilities before heading home in a crowded subway and not the only living thing for what seemed like miles. The sound of water and soap gurgling down the drain filled her ears, and the smell of the nameless soap was slightly floral and tickled her nose. This quiet moment, no matter how mundane, was one where she had felt the most normal since this entire thing started. As she pushed the tap back down and cut the flow of water, the remaining drops dripping into the water pooling down the drain replaced the torrent it had been. But it was over the sound of dripping water that she heard something, however slight it was. It sounded almost like someone had dropped a wet towel onto the floor. Kyrie looked to her feet, wondering if there had been paper towels on the counter that she had splashed and water weight had forced them to the floor. But she only saw the toes of her dress heels. The wet sound reached her ears again, but it was more pronounced, and a second wet slap was not far behind it. The first had caught her by surprise, but she had been alert when the second sounded, giving her a general idea on the direction the noise had come from. It had come from behind her, where the stalls were located. Her fingers gripped the counter until her knuckles were white and fingers shaking with tension. She tried to tell herself it had to be a leaky pipe, but that didn't explain the sound of wet material. Slowly, Kyrie raised her eyes to look in the mirror. She felt her heartbeat slow down marginally when she didn't immediately see a psychopath holding a dead woman's head in his hand, as her wildly out of control imagination had expected. But when the sticky, wet sound occurred again, Kyrie spun on her heels, bracing her hands against the counter and pressing back against it. Eyes darted wildly to look around at the area where the stalls were. The first stall showed no signs of anything unusual and the second stall, where she had been, was just as normal. But when her eyes strayed to the third one, she felt a sick feeling well into her stomach. There was something dark pooled on the floor surrounding the porcelain of the toilet bowl. The door was shut, though she had only thought that it was hanging that way. But it looked...latched now that she looked closer. She jumped when the wet slapping greeted her ears again. She noticed movement in the gap between the floor and the stall door. Though every muscle in her body was wound tight, and she wanted nothing more than to run away, she was glued to the spot. The slapping sound occurred again, but this time a shape struck against the floor, striking the dark pool on the tile. The shape disappeared for a second, then reappeared, hitting the liquid and sliding forward. It seemed to be attached to something, and a loud thump accompanied a dark shape that seemed to fall off of the toilet. There was stillness from the mass on the floor, then something extended out from the darkness that shrouded the stall. It was a sickly pale hand, and it hit the floor after moving a few inches above it, making that all-too-familiar wet slap. Another hand wriggled from the mass, joining its mate. The shape attached to them seemed to uncoil, untangle itself. The hands set flat onto the floor, and with a sudden surge, a tangled mass of hair on a head reared out from underneath the stall door. Kyrie made a choked sound in her throat, but it barely registered in the air. She began to plead with her legs to run, run far away immediately. But her knees locked and fingers seemed a part of the counter behind her. The...thing in the stall, head and hands now in the light of the florescent bulbs of the bathroom finished untangling itself or whatever it had been doing, then seemed to literally slither out from beneath the door. When it had fully emerged, Kyrie recognized that it was wearing a cocktail dress, though it was badly stained with blood and grime. What was once a neat half-bun was now askew and tangled, seemingly slicked with what was no doubt the same substance on the floor of the stall. It looked very much like a woman who had been hit by a truck or very severely beaten. There was a cracking sound, and the woman's arms abruptly bent, hands pointed inward and elbows sticking sharply into the air. Another crack and her legs seemed to pop out of their sockets, adopting the same awkward posture as her arms. One final sickening crack, and the woman's head turned clean around, finally exposing her face. Where eyes had been, there were only gaping holes, ragged as if something had been driven into the sockets. Her mouth was split ear to ear, exposing bone and muscle, and small drops of blood would fall with each twitch of her head. A tongue darted out from the ragged mouth, undulating in the air as if tasting it, and then the face, which had only been pointed slightly to the left, whipped sharply to the right, another crack of bones accompanying it. A sigh, almost as if greeting a lover emitted from the thing on the floor, and the woman (no, it was hardly a woman anymore) began to move toward her. Despite the awkward and incredibly painful (and impossible) looking posture, she moved quite quickly and looked much like a spider moving toward prey. Finally Kyrie's knees unlocked, and she let out a terrified scream as she darted toward the door. She heard an angry hiss from behind her, and the sound of cracking bones and blood-soaked hands slapping against the tile as the thing followed her. Kyrie wrenched the door open, almost falling out through it, and began to press her back against it to shut the door. But hands braced between the door and door frame prevented her from closing it. For such an awkward and brittle looking posture, the strength in those mangled arms was unimaginable. Kyrie's shoes scraped against the floor in an effort to keep the woman-thing from coming out of the bathroom, and all the while hisses and sighs came from near her feet. She could not keep this up for long. Soon she would tire, then this thing would overpower her and...and who knew what then. Certainly nothing good. Icy panic took her, and Kyrie kept her weight against the door, resisting the arms trying to pry it open as she turned around. She gripped the handle in one hand, holding the door frame in the other as a hand grasped her ankle. Kyrie let out a ragged scream from deep inside, and began opening and shutting the door as far as she could, slamming the frame into the woman-thing's head repeatedly. At first it was audible thuds, like something dully striking a wall. But soon it turned to wet squelches, until with a final squish, the hand on her ankle loosened, then went limp. Her hands shook with barely-contained horror, slowly leaving the door and its frame. Her eyes strayed down, as much as she begged herself not to. A single glimpse at the fleshy pile of pulp made her stagger back, holding her hand to her mouth. She whirled around, tripping over her feet and falling onto her knees, heaving dryly. Her stomach wanted desperately to expel something, but all she could manage was dry coughs and a trail of saliva. A small sob eventually broke out between the coughs, and she only barely contained the tears burning her eyes. Why!? Why was this happening? How was this happening!? This was like some horrible nightmare and no matter how hard she prayed or pinched herself, she wouldn't wake up. Kyrie rested on her knees on the cold stone of the subway floor until she no longer felt her stomach fighting to empty what it didn't have. She climbed to her feet, nearly turning back to look once more before she froze, reminding herself (then immediately trying to forget what she was reminding herself of) to not look. She had calmed considerably in those moments crouched on the floor, but that didn't change her situation. But at least she could think clearly again. Now what? A – Try to find the mythical hallway back to the town hall. Though it's called mythical for a reason. B – Go through the turnstile and head further in. If the water is running then the trains have to be. C – Find a vending machine to vent frustrations on, then head to the turnstile. ((This post originally inspired by the creepiest fucking thing ever in Silent Hill 4 -> Fucking Whore Ghosts. But then degenerating into something more like Regan and her stair crawling scene in The Exorcist.))
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Static
Jan 8, 2013 14:10:39 GMT -6
Post by Veta on Jan 8, 2013 14:10:39 GMT -6
C. You totes need water to calm yo tits down.
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Static
Jan 8, 2013 14:30:24 GMT -6
Post by Gabe Bar on Jan 8, 2013 14:30:24 GMT -6
C. Pick-up some fuckin' 'The Original Smoooooooth Muthafucka' No doubt stopping at a machine that makes lots of noise will throw the aberrations off your scent.
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Static
Jan 8, 2013 15:38:44 GMT -6
Post by Rai Chiller on Jan 8, 2013 15:38:44 GMT -6
A I sai. Mythical like a MOTHERFUCKER
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Static
Jan 8, 2013 19:19:25 GMT -6
Post by Song Nai on Jan 8, 2013 19:19:25 GMT -6
C
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Static
Jan 8, 2013 23:39:34 GMT -6
Post by AceTheMercenary on Jan 8, 2013 23:39:34 GMT -6
C.
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Static
Jan 12, 2013 0:17:13 GMT -6
Post by Rie (CSF) on Jan 12, 2013 0:17:13 GMT -6
Using a nearby bench to climb off of the floor, brushing at dust that was probably only miniscule, if only give her hands something to do. She began moving toward the turnstile, now more than eager to leave this place and go home, but the soft buzz of a nearby set of vending machines caught her attention on the way. She had only had a minimal amount of the lemon-flavored water at the party, and recent...events had left her throat dry.
She began to reach for her wallet, only for her hand to meet air. Her coat was still back at the town all, and that, for all she knew, was miles away and unreachable. Though it was a futile kind of wish, she figured she could check around the machines for dropped change.
The machines glowed with florescent light, buttons listing various soft drinks and one for water. According to the buttons, everything but a lemon soft drink was sold out, and while she would have preferred water, beggars could not be choosers, and she did not want to return to the bathrooms to try and use a faucet.
Crouching down, her fingers ran under one of the machines, though she kept thinking it would be a totally pointless act. She was quite surprised when her fingers hit something cold and hard, and sliding it out revealed that was a slightly dusty quarter. Now this was merely just luck, it had to be. No way she could find three more to make the cost needed for the drink.
She glanced up at the pricing, only to be surprised again. According to the red digitized numbers, she only needed a single quarter. This had to be a mistake or a malfunction, but she wasn't finding anything else beneath either machine without being forced to lay down on the floor, and that was not something she would do readily.
The coin entered the machine with a clink, and she listened to it as it fell, pressing the only button that was still lit up. There was a rumble, and a brightly colored can dropped into the dispenser. It was cold to the touch, and covered in a fine wet film.
Kyrie opened the can, and a fizz greeted her ears. Though she was hesitant, she brought the can to her lips and took a small sip. It tasted normal, carbonated, like citrus flavoring. As she tilted her head back to drink more of it, she felt something hit her tongue. Confused, and just a little startled, she started at the can, wondering if she had accidentally touched the rim of the opening. But a small shake of the can revealed that there was something clanking around in there.
Tilting the can slightly, a metal tip poked out from the opened can. Using two fingers, Kyrie grabbed onto the object, and slowly pulled it out, struggling with the last section as it got caught on the lip. It was a key, and the label on it read 'Lost and Found'.
Any sense of this being a normal machine was gone now. Unless the packing plant had really been stupid enough to package a key in a drink, there was something otherworldly at work here. But, there was no sense in throwing it away. Given the recent string of odd occurrences (to put it lightly), she thought it best to hold onto the key.
After finishing the drink (though she wasn't quite sure she was very comfortable with it after finding a key), Kyrie dropped it into a garbage can and approached the turnstile. At this point she wasn't even surprised to see the lack of people in the booth. Since there was nobody to ask her for a ticket or card, she wasn't quite sure how to proceed, before noting one of the rotating bars had been tilted inward, allowing passage.
She didn't like it, but it was the only way to proceed. Three stairways were beyond the turnstile, but they all lead down to the same place, one level lower and one closer to getting out of here.
A – Look for the lost and found that the key belongs to. Could be something worthwhile. B – Forget the key, keep going.
Status Kyrie – Unharmed.
Inventory Key From Can – A key that was found in a Mellow Yellow can. There is a tag attached that reads 'Lost and Found'. It smells distinctly of citrus and carbonation.
Scream Tally 2.
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Static
Jan 12, 2013 2:17:49 GMT -6
Post by Rai Chiller on Jan 12, 2013 2:17:49 GMT -6
A - Find Rai's meth cache
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Static
Jan 12, 2013 17:37:41 GMT -6
Post by Veta on Jan 12, 2013 17:37:41 GMT -6
A, for drugs
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Static
Jan 13, 2013 13:14:13 GMT -6
Post by Traveling Riverside Roj on Jan 13, 2013 13:14:13 GMT -6
A.
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Static
Jan 18, 2013 2:52:28 GMT -6
Post by Rie (CSF) on Jan 18, 2013 2:52:28 GMT -6
((Updates might be sporadic because I just picked up my copy of DMC two days ago, along with a copy of Dynasty Warriors 7, but I'm not abandoning this CYOA. The updates will just be kind of weirdly placed until I'm done with DMC at least. Still looking for (serious) ideas for monsters in the thread where I announced the CYOA. As much as I find tentacle monsters hilarious, I can't in good conscience write them into this CYOA. Sorry Song. I'm not writing the idea off just yet, I just don't want to throw rape monsters into my CYOA without a reason.))
The stairway lead down to the second level of the subway, and it was just as quiet as the first level had been. There was a map posted in front of the stairway, and Kyrie looked at it to find any sort of room that the key could belong to. According to the map, there was a lost and found just behind the stairway she'd gone down. Though she wasn't quite sure what she could possibly find in the room, the strange circumstances that lead her to obtain the key at least begged it to be investigated.
The lost and found was a rectangular room on the west side of the second level, and the key she'd gotten from the soda can fit into the lock without issue. The door creaked slightly as she opened it, and she was surprised to see the lights were on, as the window where the teller would be had been shuttered outside.
The lost and found was organized into shelves with boxes stacked on the side. They were labeled according to groups, such as clothing, wallets, books, and other things. She had no need for any clothing, and she had her own wallet, though it wasn't with her. A book wouldn't be useful either. It didn't look like anything in the room would be useful, but Kyrie scanned the shelves regardless.
Two rows down, something caught her eye. The label hanging from the shelf above this one was mostly torn off, and it seemed to be empty at first, but she was certain she had seen something reflecting light. Another search turned up something metal in the corner on the left side of the shelf. It was cold to the touch, and heavy in her palm. At first, she wasn't quite certain what it was, until she noticed a groove carved into the side of the object, and a small button nestled inside. She depressed it with her thumb, and nearly dropped it when a blade popped out of the object, though 'handle' was now the correct term to use. This was clearly a knife.
The only knives Kyrie had ever handled in her life were kitchen knives, and this one seemed more like an automatic self-defense knife.
She moved to put the knife back onto the shelf, as it was clearly not hers and the owner might come looking for it. Her hand paused, hovering above the shelf as she remembered the strange series of events that had happened thus far. There was nobody else in this subway, and the only person—thing she had met had probably wanted to kill her.
Kyrie had never used a knife for anything except chopping food in her life. Based upon her experienced since arriving in this subway, the knife might not be a bad thing to have. But even with the weird occurrences, she still felt bad just taking this knife. But that cold fear that snaked down her spine at remembering that thing from the bathroom made her grip on the handle tighten. No matter how much she didn't like it, taking this knife was probably better than leaving it behind.
Nothing else in the lost and found seemed very useful, at least not as useful as the knife. Kyrie left the room behind after giving everything else a once-over, though the knife was gripped tightly in her other hand, blade retracted until ( 'if' was what she wanted to say truthfully) needed.
She circled the floor, looking at each of the stairwells in turn. There were several other ways she could go at this point, and Kyrie wasn't familiar with this subway system.
A – Northeast staircase, to Platform 1. B – Southeast staircase, to Platform 2. C – Northwest staircase, to Platform 3. D – Southwest staircase, to Platform 4.
Status Kyrie – Unharmed.
Inventory Self-Defense Knife – A knife found in the Lost and Found in the subway.
Scream Tally 2.
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Static
Jan 18, 2013 5:59:17 GMT -6
Post by Veta on Jan 18, 2013 5:59:17 GMT -6
B.
Shoulda stolen a jacket >.> Pansty.
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Static
Jan 18, 2013 14:55:38 GMT -6
Post by Rai Chiller on Jan 18, 2013 14:55:38 GMT -6
D sucka
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Static
Jan 18, 2013 18:10:04 GMT -6
Post by AceTheMercenary on Jan 18, 2013 18:10:04 GMT -6
A.
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Static
Jan 19, 2013 21:09:42 GMT -6
Post by Traveling Riverside Roj on Jan 19, 2013 21:09:42 GMT -6
C!
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Static
Jan 19, 2013 22:22:15 GMT -6
Post by Gabe Bar on Jan 19, 2013 22:22:15 GMT -6
A.
as in: Vagina Monsters...
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Static
Jan 24, 2013 0:58:00 GMT -6
Post by Rie (CSF) on Jan 24, 2013 0:58:00 GMT -6
((Forgot to add this earlier, but this was the song I primarily listened to while writing most of these posts for this area: >> Click dat shit<< )) Maybe it was just better to start from one and work her way down the list if it wasn't the right platform. She'd yet to find a map she could just carry with her, and she wasn't about to try and pry one of the wall-mounted maps from its fastenings. The knife still felt strange in her hand, almost like a lead weight. It matched perfectly with the heaviness she felt in her chest. The deeper she went into the subway, the heavier it became. While she wanted to believe it was just her imagination, or just nervousness from the lack of people, something else told her it was an entirely different reason. There was something at the center of these occurrences, though what, she couldn't say. But if the heaviness in her chest were a sort of foreboding, it wasn't anything good. The stairway was long, and the dim lights of the landing above faded away halfway down, leaving her in the dark. Kyrie kept a tight grip on the handrail, checking with the toe of her shoe for the next step before setting her foot down. Luckily, she wasn't in the dark for long, as there was a florescent light shining at the bottom of the steps. It was dim, like all of the other lights had been (save for the bathroom), but it was better than the pitch blackness she was walking through. The next few moments went slowly, like time had been ground almost to a halt. She had been feeling with her foot for the next step, as she had been doing ever since the upper floor's light had faded, keeping her gaze trained on the light at the bottom of the stairs and how it was growing ever brighter. The toe of her shoe scraped against the next step, and she was in the process of moving her foot down to rest on it, anxious to leave the stairway and get back to any semblance of light. Sudden pressure at her lower back startled her, and the pressure was quickly identified as a pair of hands, though they were a little on the small side, like a child's. Before she could be frightened by the prospect of something she couldn't see touching her, she was shoved forward, and her momentarily loosened grip on the hand rail was immediately torn away. Her arms flailed around in the open air, and her stomach dropped out as she felt gravity quickly pulling her forward and down. She would no doubt hit the steps. The concrete steps. If she was lucky, she'd only get bruises and scrapes. But if she was unlucky, she might just break her neck and die right here. A scream had been ripped from her lungs as soon as she felt her feet leave the steps. Though through her screaming she had the foresight to move her arms in front of her face in an attempt to lessen the damage. Better a broken arm than a broken neck. Through the silence that rang out after her scream had faded, instead of the sickening thud of her body hitting concrete and the crack of bones, she heard a voice ring out, amplified by the walls. At first, she was sure it was her own. When she finally hit something, it wasn't nearly as cold and bruising as she had expected. Actually, it seemed to be... breathing. She couldn't feel any pain like she had expected, and her arms were pushed against her chest and the strange breathing thing she'd hit. With the lack of disorientation, and feeling her heels firmly on the ground, it was also safe to assume she was standing. She was quiet, only hearing her own frantic breaths and feeling the movement of breathing against her arms. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, and she was afraid to open them, unsure about what she would find. Kyrie opened one of her eyes, and indeed there was no concrete, though by now she knew she wouldn't have found any. What looked like a coat was in clear view, and the breathing, she quickly surmised, was coming from another person who was wearing this coat. “The last few steps trip you up?” She pushed away from the hands that were holding her shoulders, holding the knife out and fumbling with it for a second before her thumb depressed the button that forced the blade out. Her hand wavered as she held the knife in front of her, taking several steps backward. Her apparent savior from smashing her head against the floor held his hands up in front of him, though he didn't look that worried with her pointing a knife right at him. “Rough night?” “What the hell was that!?” “What?” She gestured behind herself to the stairway, quickly turning back and holding the knife back out. “Somebody...something...pushed me.” “I didn't see anything, honestly. I just heard you screaming and next thing I know, I'm saving you from a nasty spill.” “You're not one of them?” It was becoming increasingly obvious by their shared confusion that he had no idea what she was talking about. She probably looked completely crazy, waving a knife around and threatening him with it. Kyrie lowered her hand, but kept the knife out of its safety. “I...could be a lot of things. But clearly I'm not part of some terrible gang that pushes women down stairs.” “What...what are you doing here?” “Waiting for the train. I assume you came here to do the same, though I'm not sure why you're waving a knife around. All I have on me is five bucks.” “You haven't seen anything...weird have you?” She couldn't be the only one seeing all of this. The absence of life, how quiet it was, that thing in the bathroom...The subway was completely deserted and the first person she came across didn't seem aware of what was going on. Oh god...what if she was going crazy? What if there really were people and she was just completely nuts and didn't see them? “Only weird thing I've seen so far is you falling down the stairs and trying to mug me.” He seemed amused by her attempts at being threatening with the knife rather than the least bit worried. Though given his stature compared her her, she was hardly threatening. “I'm not...I'm not trying to mug you.” Her voice lowered as she spoke, as Kyrie realized shouting wasn't going to make her very convincing. She depressed the button again, and the blade slid back in. “I'm sorry. I've had...I've had a really weird night. I don't even know how I got here in the first place. I was at the town hall last I checked, then the lights went out and...and the only way out lead me here, but there hasn't been a direct link to the subway from the hall in years-” “You didn't see anyone? The place was packed when I came through.” “I know this sounds really crazy. There...there's more. There was this...this thing in the bathroom. It attacked me and...and I...” Just remembering the blood and the the sound of that thing's skull caving in against the blows from the door made her sick. She was just plain sick. Sick of this entire situation. It had been a terrible night, and she just wanted to go home, and... “Hey, hey, you don't have to cry.” He seemed startled, and at first Kyrie wasn't quite sure what he was talking about. But sure enough, when she brushed her hand across her face, it was damp. “I just...I just want to go home. But there's something...it's like there's something that's trying to keep me from doing so. I don't even know this subway system, and I just came down here by chance. I'm trying to find a train to Renata Street.” “You want platform four then. This is one.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, and looked down at his shoes, seeming to think for a moment. “Look, the train I'm trying to catch is late. It's incredibly late. I've been here for close to two hours now. I can get where I'm going if I take the train on platform four, but I'll just have to walk a few blocks is all.” “What are you saying?” “You don't know the system, and I can show you where to go. Look, you don't have to trust me in the slightest if you don't want to. I don't think you're crazy, just very, very lost. Since I'm going that way anyway, I can go with you.” She tried not to immediately accept, though that was exactly what she wanted to do. From that thing in the bathroom, the weird noises, no people, then whatever pushed her...she'd been alone ever since she got here. Of course she knew this was just a courtesy thought, as she would be accepting regardless, but she didn't want to look desperate for help. “I'd be grateful. Mister...?” “No mister, just Kanon.” She made a face, but immediately regretted it after realizing how rude that probably was. “I'm sorry! But...Kanon?” “Yeah, I know, it's a weird name, blame my mother. And you are?” “Kyrie.” Kanon made a face, though it was probably just to mock her own reaction to his name. “Oh, and you make faces at my name. It's a nice name though.” “Ah...” “Okay, never mind. Should we go?” A – Take the other stairwell on this platform. B – Go back and try another stairway. If B, choose one of the following to go along with it: 1 – Southeast, Platform 2. 2 – Northwest, Platform 3. 3 – Southwest, Platform 4. StatusKyrie – Unharmed. Kanon – Unharmed. InventorySelf-Defense Knife – A knife found in the Lost and Found in the subway. [Kanon] Pocket Knife – A typical pocket knife with one blade. [Kanon] Lighter – Normal zippo lighter. Scream Tally3.
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Static
Jan 24, 2013 16:46:31 GMT -6
Post by Veta on Jan 24, 2013 16:46:31 GMT -6
B3.
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Static
Jan 24, 2013 18:49:44 GMT -6
Post by Traveling Riverside Roj on Jan 24, 2013 18:49:44 GMT -6
A
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