Vice Director (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vicedirector) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sevenvirtues2016-04-19 07:55 pm
vicedirector) wrote in sevenvirtues2016-04-19 07:55 pm
(no subject)
You awaken to blackness. Frightening, although familiar--this is the same terrible thing you narrowly avoided during your first trip into Lebensbaum. The pain of your death is still real, echoes of the wounds you suffered appearing on your skin. Inspecting your surroundings will tell you that you've woken up inside of the cooled, empty bonfire pit....and the town as it was is nowhere to be seen.
The sky is a whirlwind of blank, dark void. What previously acted as roadblocks on either side of the town seems to have moved upward, blocking out most of the sun's light. The street is barren, filled with piles of broken concrete, shattered glass, and smoking craters where many of the buildings used to be. Old bloodstains dot the pavement, mixing in with overturned cars and crumbling brick walls. Lebensbaum is a dead town, in more ways than one.
Except for the hotel. It stands, as dusty and abandoned as it ever was, but no worse for the wear. Scorch marks can be seen on the ground around it in a clear border, as though it had a barrier protecting it from whatever destroyed the village. If you venture inside, everything is in its place, as though the outside wasn't completely obliterated.
The living can be seen walking around, going about their daily lives, and if you concentrate, you can even see the buildings as they once were--in working order, clean, and in one piece.
As of Monday on Week 10, however, there is a door, seemingly pasted into the middle of the street. As the days tick by, the doors will increase in number, one for each victim.
The sky is a whirlwind of blank, dark void. What previously acted as roadblocks on either side of the town seems to have moved upward, blocking out most of the sun's light. The street is barren, filled with piles of broken concrete, shattered glass, and smoking craters where many of the buildings used to be. Old bloodstains dot the pavement, mixing in with overturned cars and crumbling brick walls. Lebensbaum is a dead town, in more ways than one.
Except for the hotel. It stands, as dusty and abandoned as it ever was, but no worse for the wear. Scorch marks can be seen on the ground around it in a clear border, as though it had a barrier protecting it from whatever destroyed the village. If you venture inside, everything is in its place, as though the outside wasn't completely obliterated.
The living can be seen walking around, going about their daily lives, and if you concentrate, you can even see the buildings as they once were--in working order, clean, and in one piece.
As of Monday on Week 10, however, there is a door, seemingly pasted into the middle of the street. As the days tick by, the doors will increase in number, one for each victim.
no subject
nah, they teleported me somewhere. some rocky place surrounded by the sea.
[sans how do you even know what the sea looks like]
no subject
The sea? Was there a platform with a star chart on it? And a giant fish monster almost as badass looking as I am? [listen Rahab might be the size of a skyscraper but she can wear armor clearly she wins here]
no subject
uh. nah. just that one rock, the sea and a whole lot of mist. but i might be mistaken.
[WINKS]
no subject
So he what...just teleported you while you were sleeping? And killed you? What an asshole!
no subject
i wasn't sleeping, but yeah. pretty much exactly that.
[HOLD THE PRESSES, SANS WAS AWAKE]
no subject
[YEAH THIS IS DEFINITELY THE MOST SHOCKING REVELATION SO FAR FUCK WEIRD TELEPORTATION TO OTHER DIMENSIONS SANS WAS AWAKE]
no subject
[yikes.jpg]
no subject
Tell me you didn't do anything stupid like actually trying to summon him or anything!
[She says. Incredibly hypocritically.]
no subject
i didn't do anything stupid like actually trying to summon him or anything.
[...she said "tell me"]
no subject
no subject
[...SHE DIDN'T ASK FOR THE TRUTH]