[NPC] When The Cat's Away
Who: ???
When: Day 37, night
Where: Camp Crash II
Invited: Anyone
Status: Incomplete
He smiled as he slipped out of the shadows. The camp was silent and asleep, the only ones stirring were the sentries, those who watched the fire, and those that didn't sleep. They were wary of the dangers of this fantastic island, too grim sometimes.
Personally, he liked the Island. He had form here, even if it was insubstantial, free to move even though he was technically sealed in a card thousands of kilometers away. It was much more fun to be here than there.
Anyone seeing him would have seen an asian teenager with bleached, shaggy hair, dressed in a red shirt over a white undershirt. Black pants and shoes finished the ensemble. A ring with an image of a skull graced one of his fingers. And he was grinning.
Keeping away from those who watched, he sauntered to the edge of the camp, to the lean-to of one of the newer arrivals. A single stick of wood was stuck in the ground in front, under the canopy, as if it were a candle. As if this particular inhabitant needed a match.
He walked in, unafraid. What was she going to do, after all, attempt to set him on fire? Maybe she'd be entertaining enough to apparate something in during the confusion.
The occupant of the tent stirred, reaching clumsily for a pair of glasses. The top of the stick of wood flared to life. He didn't give her time to fumble the glasses on, kneeling down so that she could see him. "You have a talent for making things appear," he said, enjoying her total confusion before he disappeared temporarily, reappearing at a tent closer to the center of camp.
Inside were two men. The mislaid British cops. He knelt by one, and then another, almost whispering to each of them. "You covered for a criminal you had a connection to."
To the other, he stage-whispered, "The robed man is a virgin."
Disappearing once again, he appeared at the dwelling for the oldest of the doctors. "Others are better about not dying than you. Youngster." He grinned wider at the last word, then disappeared.
Throughout the camp, he appeared and disappeared, disturbing the sleep of other dwellers, dropping tantalizing hints and words about things not readily shared.
And then he sat back, waiting for the fun to begin.
(OOC: The visitor hit about a quarter to half of the camp, saying various things to the residents, along the lines of what he said to the four that appear in this post. He's not telepathic, so what he says is things he observed or overheard. He's meant to be an annoyance, not a terror. Since he's a projection, he's neither a ghost nor can be 'read' by any of the telepaths.)
When: Day 37, night
Where: Camp Crash II
Invited: Anyone
Status: Incomplete
He smiled as he slipped out of the shadows. The camp was silent and asleep, the only ones stirring were the sentries, those who watched the fire, and those that didn't sleep. They were wary of the dangers of this fantastic island, too grim sometimes.
Personally, he liked the Island. He had form here, even if it was insubstantial, free to move even though he was technically sealed in a card thousands of kilometers away. It was much more fun to be here than there.
Anyone seeing him would have seen an asian teenager with bleached, shaggy hair, dressed in a red shirt over a white undershirt. Black pants and shoes finished the ensemble. A ring with an image of a skull graced one of his fingers. And he was grinning.
Keeping away from those who watched, he sauntered to the edge of the camp, to the lean-to of one of the newer arrivals. A single stick of wood was stuck in the ground in front, under the canopy, as if it were a candle. As if this particular inhabitant needed a match.
He walked in, unafraid. What was she going to do, after all, attempt to set him on fire? Maybe she'd be entertaining enough to apparate something in during the confusion.
The occupant of the tent stirred, reaching clumsily for a pair of glasses. The top of the stick of wood flared to life. He didn't give her time to fumble the glasses on, kneeling down so that she could see him. "You have a talent for making things appear," he said, enjoying her total confusion before he disappeared temporarily, reappearing at a tent closer to the center of camp.
Inside were two men. The mislaid British cops. He knelt by one, and then another, almost whispering to each of them. "You covered for a criminal you had a connection to."
To the other, he stage-whispered, "The robed man is a virgin."
Disappearing once again, he appeared at the dwelling for the oldest of the doctors. "Others are better about not dying than you. Youngster." He grinned wider at the last word, then disappeared.
Throughout the camp, he appeared and disappeared, disturbing the sleep of other dwellers, dropping tantalizing hints and words about things not readily shared.
And then he sat back, waiting for the fun to begin.
(OOC: The visitor hit about a quarter to half of the camp, saying various things to the residents, along the lines of what he said to the four that appear in this post. He's not telepathic, so what he says is things he observed or overheard. He's meant to be an annoyance, not a terror. Since he's a projection, he's neither a ghost nor can be 'read' by any of the telepaths.)