Multiple Settings Homebrew

[Squad141]

In various timezones across the globe, tension sits in the air.

The date is May 12th, and for the students of the famous online school, Ernest Arneson Academy, it's a very special day. The next day, the 13th, is the last day of school and the day of Graduation for seniors. While there won't be a big physical ceremony, videos and parties have been organized for the students during their last days, including movies and fun online activities.

For the seniors, it's a day of excitement. Tomorrow, they are no longer high-schoolers. Tomorrow, they start a new journey as adults, and leave high school behind for good. Tomorrow, it's all over. For good.

And finally, for four friends living in different areas on the continent of America, today is the final session of their D&D group for a very long while. Either they have plans, or the group will be splitting off. Either way, it's almost ceremonious how the game will be played with their good friend Martel making the campaign.

Let's see how these five friends are doing, shall we?

 

[Orikanyo]

Who is this lad.

The lad who is currently sitting at home, minding his own business, is the one we are currently bothering with the all seeing eye of the narrative.

Who was he? Boye Fillbant.

What was his purpose? To get the damn cap off this pickle jar.

What was his favorite color? Not important, the cap to the jar was all consuming in regards to attention. it was stiff and tightly sealed, and a true being of stubbornness against all forces. Why did he have a jar of pickles as he was sitting at his desk? in his room no less? sometimes, a man wants a snack, and knowing something is up coming, he brings said snack to the place he will be enjoying said thing. He wasn't going to eat them ON call like a savage, well, not while unmuted.

But gods above and below in the various cultures that make up this wonderful world that is very distinctly not as cool if they in fact were real, or at least more present, he would have these pickles.

So says his cravings for the pickle.

Which, is a line that one should not truly say out loud.

it'll only result in teasing...

...Pickle cravings aside, he was more or less ready for the session to be, he had snacks, albiet stubbornly refusing to be some, drinks nearby in form of water, soda and apple juice that he found deep in the fridge. Sure he was ready, had his character sheet done up, ish, he knew what he was going to play anyways. Always had to be prepared for the session even if it was a thing he couldn't really fully prepare for... Like.. time could have just given him SOME inkling of what they were getting into. he had his old stand ins for character ideas, Elf swordsman was always good and never steered him wrong!

Elves were cool anyways.

Why did so much art make them out to be so skinny though, so much time alive and you don't get ripped?

Not HIS elves thank you very much.

These elves would certainly not have trouble with a damn jar like this...

....

........

man.. Who the hell sealed this thing...?

 

[SpectrumCrow]

Elle Blake was excited. And nervous. But still excited!

She had her character all ready to go; An aasimar druid focused on ocean and coastal theming. Elle was still trying to figure out some finer details, but overall had a solid idea. Of course, when it came time to actually play, sometimes characters end up being a bit different than expected. That’s why Elle gave the character space, to allow room for those fun surprises.

Elle still had to get her design created… Her family thought it was strange that she spent more time living in a fantasy than in reality, always having her head in the clouds, over her keyboard, or doodling. But for all of the time she spent locked away in her room, seemingly alone, her parents didn’t seem to notice.

The new game was Elle’s latest distraction from graduation. With each day, it grew closer, but Elle retreated more and more. She didn’t want to graduate just yet. She wanted more time with her friends and fantasy.

And so, Elle sat in her room, drawing and falling into another world as music played in her headphones. A part of her hoped that if she just focused enough on another world, the impending change in this world would never come.

 

[GrieveWriter]

Nattacks: Stop shooting
Nattacks: srsly dude, stop shooting
Nattacks: he's dead fam, you're just wasting ammo
BittyBoblue: don't even think she can hear you
Icewolf8008: There's still two left, GET YOUR ASS IN THE GAME!
BLOOD1BONER69: BITCH I'M ALREADY IN THE GAME
Nattacks: You haven't stopped shooting that corpse for the last twenty seconds
Nattacks: don't care how big the drum mag is, that thing's gonna run out
BLOOD1BONER69: BRUH FUK OFF I'M NEARLY DONE PAINTIN THIS WALL
BittyBoblue: Bloodsplatter's client specific, that shit looks like ass to everyone but you.
BLOOD1BONER69: THE ONLY ONE THAT MATTERS, DUH!1
Nattacks: You
Nattacks: Oh what was that noise?
Nattacks: The sound of an empty magazine?
BittyBoblue: tell me u still got the magnum rounds
Nattacks: oh, there she goes
Nattacks: 2v1 with no ammo, go
Icewolf 8008: are you kidding me?
Icewolf8008: We were recking their shit in the beginning
BLOOD1BONER69: YEAH, UNTIL YOU DUMBASSES APPARENTLY FORGOT HOW CLAYMORES WORKED
BittyBoblue: can some1 who wastes all their ammo on a corpse really start talkin shit?
BLOOD1BONER69: YA DAMN RIGHT I CAN
Nattacks: Wait, where r u goin?
Nattacks: You don't have any ammo, if they catch you up there its game
BLOOD1BONER69: THE HELL DO YOU THINK THEY GAVE US KNIVES FOR, BRUH?
Nattacks: But you
Nattacks: That did not just happen
Nattacks: Please somebody tell me that did not just happen
BLOOD1BONER69: OH SHIT, HERE WE GO FAM!
BittyBobBlue: legit assassin's creed in here now
Nattacks: He's already there
Nattacks: You can't
Nattacks: The hell is this?

<+VICTORY+>​

Nattacks: Wut even is life anymore?
Icewolf8008: HE WAS RIGHT THERE
Nattacks: Why do we try anything?
Icewolf8008: NO WAY HE DIDN'T HIT YOU
Nattacks: Am I real right now?
BLOOD1BONER69: UWU, WUT'S THIS BITCH?
BLOOD1BONER69: TOP O THE BOARD AGAIN?
Nattacks: Where even am I anymore?
BLOOD1BONER69: YEAH, REMEMBER THIS PLAY NEXT TIME U START TALKIN' SHIT, KIDS
Icewolf8008: You hackin fam, between the fall damage o that ezio shit n those rounds that damn well hit you
BLOOD1BONER: AW, THE FURRY'S PISSED HE AIN'T GOT THE BALLS THAT I DO
Icewolf8008: I ain't no furry asshole
BLOOD1BONER69: HOW U LETTIN THE ONLY BITCH HERE HAVE BIGGER BALLS THAN YOU, SCOOBY?
Icewolf8008: You had to be hacking, I don't give a shit how MLG anyone is that stunt was bs
BLOOD1BONER69: AH HELL, CAN'T EVEN CELEBRATE CUZ OF HOW WEIGHED DOWN I AM BY THESE BIG ASS BALLS FAM
BittyBoblue: i mean, we won guys. can we just be happy we won?
Icewolf8008: no
Icewolf8008: fuk that
Icewolf8008: no way in hell this bitch went and pulled that three story aerial without the fuckin landings perk and managed to get to that other asshole before he cut through her hp
Icewolf8008: Callin bs
Nattacks has disconnected...
BLOOD1BONER69: WELP, THAT'S MY ASS-WOOPING QUOTA FOR THIS GAME FILLED
BLOOD1BONER69: IF ANY O YA'LL WANNA PARTY AGAIN, BETTER CLEAR THEM SCHEDULES FOR AFTER GRADUATION
Icewolf8008: fuck you rosa
BLOOD1BONER69 has disconnected...
Icewolf8008: such bs
Icewolf8008 has disconnected...
BittyBoblue: but
BittyBoblue: we won tho
BittyBoblue has disconnected...



A young girl sits in what could only be described as some kind of matrix looking chair ion the middle of a large room. Besides the massive wall of Iko Uwais posters beside her, its decorated mostly with weights, piles of VHS tapes and DVDs. In front of her was an absolutely excessively large flat screen which took up yet another wall was displaying a massive library of fps titles that she scrolled through from the comfort of her next-gen gaming chair.

Of course, calling it a chair would be a distressing endeavor given how much gear she had hooked up to it. Not only did it have the towers for two pcs built underneath it, but the rear was an entire wall of gizmos and whatsits that she used to make her gaming experience as smooth a possible. The young girl even had her selection of beef jerky and a soft drink fridge easily within reach, ensuring that she could probably survive on that chair for days without ever standing up.

But that kind of thinking was reserved for only the harshest of gaming sessions, the young girl was often ecstatic to move around, no matter how hard it was.

So with the day's multiplayer sessions properly crushed, she reached up to detach the futuristic headset she wore. While it was mostly futuristic in the sense that one could easily picture it as a prop from any sci-fi show that didn't suck, the truth was that she'd merely dressed it up that way so that she didn't look like a complete tool when lying back in her chair for hours on end. It was nothing more than the most top of the line vr headset her uncle could acquire, allowing her to handle most of her online activities with the ease of a master.

When her peers asked her how her movements and actions were so smooth, she gave the only answer they'd need: money.

But we're getting a hold of ourselves, who exactly is this young girl?

Well, she'd have no problem telling you if she could just... reach for....

Aha! she grabs ahold of a prosthetic leg she had laying against her trusty gaming chair and brought it over to the stump below her left leg. Only when it was properly affixed did she finally rise from her chair and stand at full height.

This girl is known as ROSA GARCIA, at least to those who actually interact with her on the daily. To those who know of her in the FPS community, she's either BLOOD1BONER69, DOUBLEDOLLARSPECIAL, or much less fun but more acceptable by E-sports standards: Death Flag. But to those who know her on the chatting client known as Rumblr, she is the one and only D3ADBAB369.

Despite the fact that she only has one leg and more illnesses than one could count on one hand, she is known for being rather LOUD and VIOLENT by most of her peers. Her love of violence is practically the driving point of most of her interactions, as most of her interactions, hobbies and enjoyments of life tend to circle around her intense need to express herself as viciously as possible. Unfortunately, Rosa's body isn't the most conducive to violent expression. With most of her lower left leg gone and a penchant for getting sick due to a rather stupidly ill-equipped immune system, she spends most of her days confined to her uncle's respectably large villa. She sometimes goes for weeks without stepping foot outside of her room, but that does not mean she gave up on her violent endeavors.

No, if anything it gave them focus, as the only medium through which she could express her malicious tendencies was through online interactivity. Having grown a collection of violent movies and games that would make any puritanical evangelist collapse dead on the spot, little miss Garcia has become nothing short of an expert on the subject of violence.

Every single bit of media focused on action has been consumed, thousands of games allowing malicious intent have been played, as they were pretty much the only thing she could do consecutively while inside her room.

Not to say she didn't try.

The punching bag and weights she had in front of her collection of mint Iko Uwais posters is a testament to her endeavors to get as beefy as possible, as only the most beefiest individuals could lay claim to the most violent of engagements. Alas, besides physical therapy her muscles have yet to reach peak performance, if Iko was there she was sure he would hang his head in shame at her attempts.

Oh? Who was that stunning Indonesian man decorating her wall? Only the lord and savior of modern martial arts films himself: Iko Uwais. With the legends of old either past their prime or just dead, Rosa was once assured that modern martial art movies were doomed to go the way of the action and western flicks, oversaturated and made increasingly more child friendly until they belonged on Nick toons with the rest of the baby films.

But then this hunk of a man spin-kicked his way into Rosa's life, and reminded her exactly why rugged foreign men were so high on her list of priorities. She was convinced that if a guy couldn't take a beating at least half as impressive as that smash fest Mad Dog put poor Iko through and still win, then they just had to be from poor dating stock.

But Iko? That man could drop kick her through a window whenever he wanted and she'd still gladly have thirty eight of his kids.

Yet even the supportive auras radiated from the divine depictions of his sweaty, wounded image could not encourage further development in her musculature. In fact, nowadays she mostly just smacked her punching bag with her old crutches, walking canes, hell she'd even use one of her prosthetics to rough it up a bit just for the hell of it.

But such things would not satisfy her need for violence.

She had been lying when dunking on her unimaginative teammates, for her ass-whooping quota was never truly filled even after days of online bloodshed. But she could not indulge in her myriad of FPS ventures today, not like most days, for today she had a prior arrangement that she wasn't incline to skip out on.

While the Queen of all things FPS, her forays into other genres had led to her joining a group of RPG players made up of peers from the online school: Ernest Arneson Academy. Having done other forms of online school before due to her condition, Rosa was excessively prepped for the Academy's methodology of learning. What she hadn't been prepared for was its level of interactivity compared to others, which allowed her to attend for years without even one person realizing the foul-mouthed rabble-rouser learning with them was a sickly cripple. It helped her build her reputation as violence on legs fairly easily, making her oncoming graduation feel like a necessary pain to put up with.

But before that, a group of DnD players that she'd thrown in with were set to play a game together.

Assuming it would just be like their other games just with more finality to it, Rosa was determined to spill more blood and destroy more towns than she ever had in one of their sessions before hand. If she doesn't find a way too end whatever world Time was making for them by the end of this session, she'll consider it a failure on her part.

But she hadn't yet finalized her character, who was set to be her most vicious and metal creation yet. It couldn't just be a bloodthirsty barbarian, she'd gotten away with those tropes far too often. She needed death and violence the likes of which were unheard of beforehand, like something out of an old fashioned Metallica album cover with nothing but fire and skeletons on motorcycles pulling wheelies around hellgates spewing damned souls into the stratosphere.

Rosa has absolutely no idea how in god's name she was supposed to build a character like that given what she had to work with. But she wouldn't be Death Flag D3ADBAB369 if she didn't put all of her remaining time into making such a thing a reality.

 

[Gravitational Force]

If you're not playing Skyrim with godmode and enough mods to make Steam smoke are you even playing the game?
Okay, yes, but Isaac wasn't about to NOT play as a vampire lord/werewolf/lich/wereshark/demon every class in the game all the best spells badass.

The point wasn't in making it difficult enough to be fun, it's about finding new ways to be creative while winning. While still making it so not everything was a OHK, Isaac liked being able to knock enemies around a little. And rend the flesh from their bones, blow them to bits, burn them, freeze them, electrocute them, slice them, decapitate them, impale them, etc.

Which was why Isaac's computer screen showed a woefully underpowered bandit lying in a massive pool of his own blood in front of Isaac's Dragonborn. Who was carrying just about every artifact in the game and had enough gold to bury every dragon in the game alive.

Isaac then spent a few seconds using Flames to turn another bandit into a pile of ashes. Why even program enemies to beg for mercy if they were going to attack you a few seconds later though? You were going to have to kill them either way and it'd only fool you the first time. Welp, time to loot the chest. Which contained nothing he felt like taking with him. Just a bunch of flawless gems and weapons over 1000 GP in value, but Isaac's character could buy literally everything in the game at this point. Thank you very much 1000s of gold in barrels mod.

If only real life could be this easy. Just put in a cheatcode, download some mods, and you wouldn't have to live in fear of the future. Like what you were going to do after high school was over since you didn't really have any marketable skills and college meant failure. And you couldn't depend on your parents forever. And you could barely take care of yourself right now.

So instead just focus on the present. Finish all the quests, do some rampaging, then join the next game Martel was running. Pretend that the group would still be together and friends in the far future and that you weren't going to crash and burn. Ignore the dread, put some meat and cheese between two slices of bread. Isaac bit into the burger. Food was another comfort. If it didn't taste good why eat it?

He still needed to figure out what character he was going with. He had plenty of ideas, but he'd wait to see what the campaign was before finalizing anything. That way he'd have an advantage. "Winning all the time isn't fun" was only partially correct. The point was to find new ways of having fun AND win. Losing was what wasn't fun. Why play a character who might actually die? Isaac didn't get people who'd roleplay that. Being a loser was the worst thing. Which is why Isaac hated being one.

 

[Squad141]

With a small *ping!*, a new notification pops up on the four kid's devices. It's from Rumblr, and even better, from Martel!

FATHERT1M3: Hey guys! Happy pre-graduation
FATHERT1M3: Anyways, hope you're all doing well
FATHERT1M3: Getting the session set-up, though I'd check in.
FATHERT1M3: Might just be a one-shot too, but I think that's still alright.
FATHERT1M3: No spoilers, though! Genre's gonna be fantasy for sure

----------------------​

You look up, greeted by three cats by your door. They seem content, the sun perfectly hitting the spot on the floor where they lie. It's kind of cute, honestly.
One of them suddenly opens its eyes, and leaves into the hallway outside. Nothing seems to be wrong. That's how your oddly vast number of pets usually act.

Then, you hear something echo from your front door. It sounds like knocking.

Orikanyo
------------------​

After several minutes of enjoyment, you hear something in the background of your music. You ignore, before one of your parents appears before you, a bit muffed. Removing your headphones, they cross their arms.

"You have mail, Elle. It's by the front door."

SpectrumCrow
--------------------------​

With your Uncle gone for the moment, you sit in silence for a few moments contemplating the mechanisms of violence you will be inflicting very soon in Martel's imaginary world, when you hear another noise. It's louder, but no off-putting. Quickly you realize that it's your front door.

GrieveWriter
----------------------​

A loud thud awakens you from your thoughts. ...huh? You take a minute to perceive that it must have been someone loudly knocking on your... apartment door? Maybe it's your neighbors...

Gravitational Force​

 

[Orikanyo]

Boyyyyyyyyyeeee

...A knock? Well, guess that might be something. His standing up from his seat removed a cat which he had not noticed that was sitting on his feet. It walked a few feet, plopped down on it's side and gave that come hiter look cats give when they want pets. Unfortunately, Hank was always like that, good boy he was, but also a pet enthusiast and addict. Also one of the Tummy is best, cats he has that aren't a beartrap. Loki was like that too, but for some reason that orange tabby couldn't meow, he sort of squeaked?

Croaked?

Chirped?

All could describe it really.

But his goal right now was to figure out he front door since it was his job when he was home, since his mother is usually working at this point. Granted, anytime he was home from school wasn't always the best, since... Well... faking it meant you had to fake all day...

It was easier to just skip class.

But his games were at home...

But class sucked...

Well, either way, he was nearly out of that now, and straight back into it for a trades school... Electrician, not as fun sounding as other ways, but always needed and stuff... He wasn't some straight A student, nor really did he care too much on his studies... Man...

It was all depressing, best he leave the thoughts behind.

He came to the door, equally cat blocked, but nonetheless he opened it, causing a small landslide of cats, slowly, like a tumble of little teddybears, he learned quickly long ago doors were dangerous.

He considered breifly life without cats everywhere, it was an odd one, they followed you at times, like Hank the Stank, who was consistently ahead trying to lure you into petting him. Teddy, who sat on the stairs, demanding pets for passage or she will lightly paw at your foot making your heartbreak.

Thus he met his first foe.

And acquessed to a skritch He scratched behind the cat's ears, too a light purr eminating from the little sweet heart. His first trial passed, he descended the stairs and... Oh no, more.

Jack, Dee, Smore and Beans sat infront of the door... They heard noise and came to investigate, and thus they have seen him. One meow, two, thtree... The most talkative sorts all in one place... He hoped to god, or maybe just Bastet who was currently looking over disunterestedly from that stattuette on the shelf, that mom wasn't on a call. Whyyyyyy, so many meows!!!

"Y-yes, meow meow, good morning." Was it morning? He didn't know. Why were these cats near the door they had their own escapes everywhere!!! They could look outside from any of those! He struggled against the tide of love and... Likely begging for food. Not that they need it, Beans was the chonk of the house! A big boy, a big ol squishy kitty! Big ol huggy little cutie patootie yes you are Beans yes you-

FOCUS BOYE YOU GOT THIS!!!

With a roar, not really, he opened the door to observe the scene beyond, other hand still petting Beans.

 

[Gravitational Force]

Isaac groans at the knock at the door. His computer groans as he pauses the game and it tries to handle saving the combined data from dozens of mods. His floor groans as he walks across it to get to his apartment's door. Just when he was managing to forget the future he was pulled back from the pleasant present.

Who could it be? His family hadn't let him know if they were visiting, he hadn't ordered anything and if he had a delivery the doorperson would have called to let him know, and it wasn't like people could just walk in off the street.

Hmm? Oh, there was a notification.

FATHERT1M3: Hey guys! Happy pre-graduation
FATHERT1M3: Anyways, hope you're all doing well
FATHERT1M3: Getting the session set-up, though I'd check in.
FATHERT1M3: Might just be a one-shot too, but I think that's still alright.
FATHERT1M3: No spoilers, though! Genre's gonna be fantasy for sure

Just a one-shot? Well, that made sense. It still sucked it'd be over so soon. Fantasy was a definite plus though. But it still not enough to go on to decide what kind of character to create.

Isaac was sidetracked from his walk to his front door by his stomach growling. He realized he hadn't eaten in hours. Making a detour to his kitchen he chowed down on two bananas (just turned from green to yellow with no brown spots) before finally ending up in front of the door.

No sense in opening it if he didn't know who it was. Isaac peered through the peephole, trying to see who was on the other side of the door. If this was a game he could use some spell or item, but in real life you had to do so much guesswork, take risks, and do things the slow and hard way.

This situation reminded Isaac of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven," and he decided to quote it.
"Tis some visitor,” Isaac muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

 

[SpectrumCrow]

Having not heard her family member come in, Elle jumped in her seat as she realized their presence. Shaking her head, Elle brought herself back to reality. Pulling out her earbuds and closing her sketchbook, she turned and stood out of her chair. She frowned slightly, she couldn’t remember ordering anything…?

“S-Sorry… I didn’t hear you. Did… never mind. I’ll go get it. Thanks for letting me know.” Elle spoke softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she avoided eye contact. Quickly moving past them, Elle made sure she had her phone as she felt it buzz in her hand.

Encounters with her parents weren’t uncommon, especially with finals and graduation. Still, she tried to avoid them when she could. Said encounters were not’ horrific, mind you, but Elle wouldn’t define them as pleasant either. Elle couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment where it started, but she always felt a nervousness in her stomach when she had to interact with them.

But that wasn’t important. The mystery package and notification were more important.

Exiting her room and heading down the stairs, she went onto the front porch. First, the notification… oh! A message from Martel!! Not wanting to waste any time, her thumbs rapidly tapped the screen, leaving a reply to her friend.

DestinysDaughter: I’m ok! TY
DestinysDaughter: I’m happy as long as we get to play together!
DestinysDaughter: I have a character idea lined up and ready to go that should work with the fantasy theme!
DestinysDaughter: How are you doing by the way?

Satisfied with her reply, Elle put her phone into her pocket once more. She had always felt a bit more confident when texting. Perhaps it was the anonymity of it, even if they knew who she was already.

Leaning down to the package on her front porch, Elle looked at the return address.

 

[Squad141]

You open the door, but with a bit of force.

The handful of cats that had been at the door attentively stayed inside as a brisk wind blew in from outside. Taking a tentative step outdoors, you realize you hadn't known it was going to be this windy today. A few clouds rolled by above, but none were dark, so it couldn't have been a storm, right?

Still, there was nobody at the door which was odd. So, you look down.

A large brown package tied with white string sits on your front step, with the words BOYE FILLBANT written in sharpie.

Orikanyo
------------------​

There was... no one?

The peephole remained empty, but there weren't any rowdy kids on your floor. Who could have been knocking?
Disgruntled, you slightly open the door, and listen for anyone running down the hall.
...

Silence.
Hm.

As you go to close the door, you happen to glance down, and see something else.
A brown paper package wrapped in white string, with the words ISAAC LEITER written in black sharpie on the top.

Gravitational Force
------------------​

FATH3RT1ME: I'm doing great, thanks for asking
FATH3RT1ME: Just getting things set up
FATH3RT1ME: Been trying to close my windows too
FATH3RT1ME: It's really loud over here

You look down at the return address, and find nothing. The words you see on the brown paper are ELLE BLAKE in a glittery sharpie.
You hear something from the front door. It doesn't seem like knocking, maybe more like something sliding...?

FATH3RT1ME: Hey, give me a second
FATH3RT1ME: Think I've got mail or something be back soon

SpectrumCrow ​

 

[GrieveWriter]

How many automatic weapons could one build into their character before it was excessive?

That was a trick weapon of course, such a limit wasn't meant for a proper warrior. And to Rosa, her ideal warrior was essentially a living siege weapon capable of breaking into hell itself with nothing less than abs so rock hard they could crush a man's spirit just from the sight of them.

But automatic weapons built into every limb, bone and orifice helped too.

Rosa's attempts to properly build her send-off, walking apocalypse of a character had been falling through consistently. She'd tries sketching a shitty drawing of her walking nightmare, but her child-like chicken scratch could never encapsulate the sheer viciousness required. It lacked the ability to portray the burning river Styx and the tidal waves of slain enemies swept away by its currents, the two suns crashing into each other in the background, the random half-naked Indonesian man with a guitar covered in spikes doing the intro song. How could one employ sheer paper and pencils to portray such magnificence? They could not, simple as that.

Besides, looking at her shitty attempts at artistic expression was getting more painful by the second.

Numbers and character bios were one thing, but there was a reason why Rosa refused to post even a scrap of her non-writing based creative endeavors online. She was built to crush fools on the virtual battlefield, not mold clay or sketch despite her family initially promising that such outlets would be perfect for someone with a condition like her's. Back in the days after she moved in with her Uncle she'd make attempts bi-monthly, but then she committed an act so taboo it haunts her to this very day.

She crafted Mini-Iko.

Rosa turned her attention to the locked safe in the corner underneath a pile of VHS tapes. A safe so large and ominous would undoubtedly draw some to wonder what dark secrets lay within.

If only there were merely dark secrets.

If only...

A message alert from Rumblr frees her from the spell her foul art had placed her under, and soon Rosa was using her trusty crutch to limp herself back into her Futuristic, no-noobs allowed gaming chair. Of course she could go on Rumblr on it, what gamer wouldn't?

Ah, it would seem Martel was putting the finishing touches on his finale session, which was apparently fantasy. Rosa lifted her headset off and glanced in the direction of her pisspoor attempt at a drawing. The genre was irrelevant, true brawlers knew that smacking someone upside the head brought about the same feeling of relief and joy no matter which time period or scenario they were in.

The same rule would apply to automatic weapons, she just had to make them automatic crossbows or magitek machine guns and all would be right with the world.

As soon as she scrapped that garbage drawing and actually got some semblance of a character sheet done.

Crutch in hand, she made for the drawing and crumpled it whilst eyeing a nearby sheet of clean paper. Though not much, Martel's brief glimpse into what he would provide them was enough to get Rosa thinking. Fantasy was ripe for bloodshed and violence the likes of which reality had to struggle to catch up with. But before she could get to putting those ideas on paper, she heard it: a knock at the door.

Whereas some would react immediately, Rosa just sighed and tossed her garbage drawing away before hobbling her way towards the window. Her window was graced with a view of the front of her Uncle's villa, and so she looked down from her second story room to check who was making such a racket by the front door.

 

[Orikanyo]

Boye

"...Well thats wierd..." he considered this package in all of it's... Well... He didn't really have a word for it. In truth, it was a package, if you thought of the shape of a package in your head, distill it down to the barest of bones.

This would be it.

Its like it was shaped from the very metaphysical being of what true packages appear as. The universal constant template of packages. And here it was showing up at his door like a celebrity guest appearance to a shitty sitcom from the nineties. Mom would probably attest against he shitty part, mostly.

Whelp, he didn't expect anything bad from it. It was labeled directly to him and mom was...

He glanced back seeming a windowed door lighted up by a computer screen and the sounds of clickety clacking keyboard keys.

She was in the zone probably.

Sooo, it was up to him. It was probably from a cousin or something, auntie? He had a few of those, mostly family friends whom he called aunt.

...so... Why not bring it in?

Grasping the package, he lifted up, getting used to the weight and started to waddle his way up the stairs. The cats, being good kitties, naturally-

Got in every single way they could.

Each step up the stairs was a veritable minefield of cat tails, cat paws and feline toys. Desperate to get past the sudden flurry of cat related death, he pushed forwards, leaving left behind cat toys in his wake... Until he put the parcel down, returned down stairs and closed the door. Wouldn't do to leave that open, would be rude.

A minute of fussing later, he managed to get the package into his room with only four cats standing by and observing the situation. It was then that he would... Well... Guess he needed a knife... Or... No that pen will work. Just stab the tape a few times... Wait no was it held together by string? Jeez. Undo the string then...

....

...who the hell makes knots like these.

He would finally open it soon, but what lay inside is not for this author to state.

 

[Gravitational Force]

From Poe to The Sound of Music.
"-Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things.-"

Hmm.
The doorman would have called up to say he had a package and wouldn't have just let it be delivered to his door. Isaac lived on the 13th floor (14th going by the old superstition) and his apartment was right in front of the elevator, but he hadn't heard it arrive and he doubted any delivery person would be willing to walk up all those stairs. How did this get here?

Wrinkling his nose at the smell of the sharpie, Isaac lifted the package up to his ear and gently shook it. No telling what was in it that way. Still, it wasn't like there was any reason not to open it.

But he'd be having a snack first.

Saute some leftover sliced onion, layer provolone cheese on a hotdog bun and melt it in the microwave, cover the resulting cheesy bun with the sauteed onion, apply ketchup, and finally top it with a hot dog. And do it twice.

Isaac realized he probably shouldn't eat over the package at the last moment and quickly moved to avoid spillage. An hour and a half later he realized he'd forgotten about the package after putting away the dirty dishes and getting sucked into a show about an American fan of South Korean sitcoms getting sucked into her favorite one. Metacomedy could be hit or miss, but this was a definite hit.

Fifteen minutes later Isaac realized that focusing on the show had once again distracted him. This time he held the package in his hands, sat down at his table, and focused entirely on it as he began unwrapping it. Then had to pause and grab scissors, got distracted by remembering he still had one more Lindor truffle, ate it, got distracted by seeing he'd dropped a Magic: the Gathering card on the floor under his couch, and finally ended up back at the table with the scissors after wondering why he was holding them.

Now the string was cut away and the paper pulled back. Isaac opened the box wondering what could possibly be inside this thing?

 

[SpectrumCrow]

DestinysDaughter: wait really?
DestinysDaughter: apparently i got something too
DestinysDaughter: although i dont remember ordering anything and there isnt any return address
DestinysDaughter: maybe 1 of the others sent us a gift or something???

Hesitantly taking the package into her arms, Elle made an attempt to feel for what was inside of it. While not careless or violent, she gave it a small shake and listened. After a moment, she paused… it would be easier to just take it inside and see for herself, right?

Carrying the package under her arm, Elle turned her gaze to the front door that she had absentmindedly closed behind her. The sound that came from behind it made her narrow her emerald eyes, curious as to what it could be. Although, whatever it is could distract her for a minute… so she decided to send one quick message

DestinysDaughter: ill let you know if its anything interesting
DestinysDaughter: weird noise brb

Satisfied with her reply, Elle turned her attention back to the door and mystery sound. Like with the package, she decided that theorizing wouldn’t be helpful and that she’d just have to see for herself.

And so, she opened the door and looked for the source of the sound.

 

[Squad141]

A light drizzle seems to have begun, and the sky looks a little overcast. Looking down, you don't see anyone. Looking closer, you see something else, something smaller and browner. Looks like someone left something by the front door.

GrieveWriter
----------------------​

Inside the package, is... another package? Taking the smaller one, which is a hefty, there's also a small jewelry box covered in a smooth, red felt. Your name is printed on the top in cursive, white text. It seems odd, and very creepy.

Orikanyo
-----------------​

There were two items inside. Another slightly smaller brown package that has a heft to it, and a dark green box. Examining it closer, it looks like some kind of jewelry box, with your name on the top in white. The box feels nice as well, the dark green velvet sliding around in your hands.

Gravitational Force
----------------​

Nothing was there.

You hesitantly lean outside, and almost get knocked over by a strong gust of wind. With nothing else on the porch, you suppose the wind was just shaking the door from the way it was blowing. Looking up, you see a very clear sky.

Hm.

FATH3RT1ME: Hey, Im back
FATH3RT1ME: Got some weird package, gonna wait to open it later
FATH3RT1ME: Should have set-up ready in a few minutes
FATH3RT1ME: You guys good?

SpectrumCrow​

 

[Orikanyo]

Boye

"...Wierd..." the young man toyed with the two boxes, putting them down on his desk before looking to the screen of his computer... Oh shit he's been talked to, alot.

CoolStickInaWoods: Yo, here, also found a package outside to.
CoolStickInaWoods: Shits wierd.
CoolStickInaWoods: Didn't send them myself(Why would I send one to me, wierd power play maybe?).
CoolStickInaWoods: opened mine, got two boxes, one is a wierd velvet thing, gonna open it all the rest of the way while I wait.

And, as he said, he started with the not velvet box, utilizing his trusty pen to wriggle it open, by now, a cat had appeared as was playing with the string... Only to draw another... And another cat...

A storm brewed around him, without him giving a care, he had two boxes to open.

@ Everyone on Rumbler

 

[Gravitational Force]

There were two items inside. Another slightly smaller brown package that has a heft to it, and a dark green box. Examining it closer, it looks like some kind of jewelry box, with your name on the top in white. The box feels nice as well, the dark green velvet sliding around in your hands.

This was taking WAY too long. And who was sending him jewelry? Isaac scrolled through his contacts, trying to figure out who'd send him something like this. He'd only open the rest if he could identify the gifter.

Wait...

Oh, this must have something to do with the adventure. Martel sent this. It'd probably be some commemorative gifts, a special die and other swag.

Yay, now he'd have a physical reminder of what he used to have once he was flailing with no connections after graduation. He'd have to write a thank you note.

Isaac bit the nails on his left hand unconsciously as he opened up both packages. He'd figure out what was recycling and what was trash later.

 

[SpectrumCrow]

Strange... but a strong breeze wasn't super unnatural with this weather... right?

After regaining her balance, Elle quickly re-entered her home and shut the door behind her. As she made her way back to her bedroom, she couldn’t help but hope and pray that any family members that had entered had left. Careful to not drop the mystery package, Elle climbed each step carefully before reaching her room.

Keeping her head down, she shuffled into her room and placed the box on her desk.

DestinysDaughter: 1 sec, opening my mystery box
DestinysDaughter: wonder who sent it…
DestinysDaughter: or whats inside!

Scissors, scissors, scissors… where would they..- oh! Here they are. Hooray for arts and crafts drawers! Elle cheered in her mind, smiling to herself as she fetched a pair of light purple scissors. With cautious movements as to not cut herself or worse with the scissors, Elle opened the box and excitedly looked to see its contents.

 

[GrieveWriter]

"Damn it."

It couldn't just be a wild animal getting spooked to seek shelter from the rain. It couldn't be a gung-ho thief underestimating the Garcia Villa's surveillance system, nope, couldn't possibly be that simple.

Either of those would've been preferable to what Rosa found, for sitting before the great front door of the villa was none other than a package. It just sat there taunting her with its very presence, for she hadn't ordered a package recently. For a youngster confined to her home as she was, ordering things was practically second nature. But she couldn't recall ordering anything recently, having wanted to focus her final days at EA Academy just running rampant as much as possible on the digital space.

And if it wasn't her's, then it was her uncle's.

He barely ever got mail, and usually Rosa could just trust her cousin to handle it. But no, they were in midst of happy hour, meaning he was undoubtedly incapable at the time. Mail wasn't supposed to come at this time, the mere thought had never even occurred to her beforehand. Yet it had, and now she had to hope and pray that her cousin was still sober enough to go fetch it for their uncle. Rosa hobbled her way over to a dresser and dug around in a drawer for some time before pulling out a phone.

Any attempt she made to call her cousin was met with answering machines, meaning she was the only person in the house capable of retrieving her Uncle's package.

The trek would be rife with peril, of this she had no doubt. Usually she only went downstairs with the assistance of a relative, but she would not allow her Uncle's package to be ruined by the rain. Far too long had he graciously delivered her mail without peaking even once, such a relationship was built upon the foundation that she would do the same if the roles were reversed. As a young, growing teenager unable to leave her room on most days, Rosa had acquired many personal effects from the internet that some others would consider embarrassing. The only way she'd managed to have so much delivered without a single awkward encounter with a relative was her uncle's willingness to just give them to her without asking questions.

She would not lose such a relationship over a poorly timed mailman and some rain.

So she equipped her false limb and set out into the hall beyond her room, only to nearly immediately trip over one of the hundreds of liquor bottles scattered on the floor.

Her cousin's happy hour was legendary to the rest of the family, for somehow this single individual was able to consume enough alcohol for an entire party all on his own. somehow he always managed to clean up his immense mess by the night's end, but the time beforehand left the entire house looking as though a frat party had ran it through.

But Rosa persisted, carefully maneuvering around the ocean of bottles before reaching the staircase, which she descended ever so slowly whilst working to avoid more bottles.

It was only when she approached the door that she heard the chime of a notification from her phone, and looked to see that their game session would be starting soon. She wasn't even in her epic gaming chair, leading Rosa to growl as she double timed her haphazard scamper and finally reached the front door. Reaching for the handle, she paused at the sound of a loud snore overpowering the constant pounding of rain outside.

Glancing back, she looked into the foyer. Dangling from a well-lined couch was a leg that could only belong to her cousin. The mountain of bottles surrounding said couch only went further to prove her suspicion. The rain wouldn't even be a threat to his slumber, not this far into happy hour.

Rolling her eyes, Rosa psyched herself up before throwing the front door open and quickly hauling the box in away from the elements. She slipped and stumbled the entire time, falling over herself at least twice before finally closing the door behind her. Clutching the box as if it were driftwood in the middle of the ocean, she panted wildly, clutching at her chest before coughing.

Though it was minor, she would have to take several pills the instant she reached her room. Though exposure was minimal, that much of the outside world was a threat to someone who's immune system was as garbage as her's was.

All for the box.

Wondering if it was okay to just leave it there since it was out of the elements, Rosa eyed the box suspiciously. There was a game session she was about to partake in, and she would be damned if she missed its beginning.

 

[Squad141]

...
...?

Huh?
You do a double-take, before trying again.

It's not like your pen is bouncing off the box or anything. Are you not hitting the mark?
You try a fourth time.
For some reason, you simply cannot open the rectangular box, even without the pen.
This is starting to freak you out.

Orikanyo
-----------------​

And it's odd to you as well.
It's like you aren't letting yourself open that box. You try to get a closer look at it, before finding some other sharpie on it: "OPEN WHEN READY".

Sighing, you go to the open the small velvet one.

Inside, lies a small six-sided die.

Gravitational Force
----------------​

And like your friends across the curve of the earth, you open the the boxes respectivley.

Once again, you are faced with a choice: A large rectangular average-seeming box, and a smaller velvet-line jewelry box.

GrieveWriter SpectrumCrow ​

 

[Orikanyo]

Boyyyyyyyyyyeeeee


"...Huh...?" Thats.. really wierd... Whoever made this thing really, really, REALLY didn't want you to open it. At least without figuring out how to do so. maybe you need a knife? but the game is starting soon...

Ugh... You hate this stuff, it's like when older family members send presents through mail and it has roughly about 14 rolls of tape covering it.

Sucks to suck, time to... Oh yea the other box.

open it open it open it open it.

 

[Gravitational Force]

Okay, a six-sided die. Kind of an anti-climax. No, definitely an anti-climax.
Well at least it came in a cool case, that can probably be re-used.

Picking up the die, Isaac shifted it in his hand experimentally. Might as well test it out.

Walking over to his desk, Isaac rolled the die.