INTRO LOG
Who: ideograms, disinters, and all new arrivals.
What: The new arrivals get their first experience of their new environment.
Where: Drawing room, the old Dixon house.
When: October 1st 1928, not long after midnight.
Rating and Warnings: PG?
Notes: If you haven’t read the OOC game start info, you can find it here.
Human bodies are heavy. Never so heavy as when they’re dead weight.
For men not accustomed to the weight of human bodies, moving a half dozen or so unconscious adults down a corridor, up a flight of narrow stone stairs, through a trap door, across a cellar, up a wooden staircase, down a hall, and into a comfortable drawing room is no small feat.
It was sweat and sore backs that made it happen, that and some considerable determination. What, after all, were they supposed to do? Leave a heap of unconscious bodies lying pell-mell across the dirt floor before a portal which--so it seemed--they had had a hand in making? No, the two professors were better men than that.
It hadn’t been graceful work, grabbing wrists and ankles, grunting with the strain of lifting and pulling, taking what care they not let the strangers’ heads bang against corners or doorjambs as they moved them.
By the time they felt certain that no one else would suddenly drop through the portal that they’d never meant to make, and they’d dragged the last of the sleepers into the drawing room of the house, pulled the dust-cloths from chairs and couches, and propped their visitors safely in place, Taylor and Elias felt like nothing so much as ham-handed puppeteers surrounded by a motley collection of life-sized dolls.
But at least their charges were alive. Alive and, by the looks of it, human. Perhaps not all that different from the two rather strange men who’d approached them a few days ago making such fantastic claims about their origins.
If it had happened to them, then couldn’t it happen again? Was that also what had transpired here?
Clad in their shirtsleeves and showing every bit the ordeal the night had put them through, Taylor managed to light a fire in the grate and while Elias turned up the wicks of the oil lamps. Then, standing at the far end of the room to survey the unreal scene before them, they bent their heads together to whisper: what had happened in the chamber below? Who were all these people? Was this, indeed, a case of accidental travelers from other worlds? And what were they to do next?
As luck would have it though, they didn’t need to wonder for very long because, at last, whatever force had deprived this ragtag group of wakefulness was now lifting, and they were beginning to wake.
The only question now was what in the world they were supposed to say to them.
[OOC: Whether characters remember any hazy, semi-conscious snippets from their trip through the portal or being dragged upstairs to the drawing room is up to players to decide. The experience of passing through the portal can feel like anything you’d like, but it would rarely be experienced as something pleasant.
Feel free to mingle and thread-hop, add your own new threads or tag into the ones we’ve set up below. You need not wait to tag with the NPCs first unless you want to. The room isn’t all that big, so everyone is within earshot.
Let’s keep this log confined to the drawing room. If you want to explore other areas of the house, please make your own log posts or action posts on the main comm. (Remember that for now, there’s no phone service in the house and also no electricity.)]
What: The new arrivals get their first experience of their new environment.
Where: Drawing room, the old Dixon house.
When: October 1st 1928, not long after midnight.
Rating and Warnings: PG?
Notes: If you haven’t read the OOC game start info, you can find it here.
Human bodies are heavy. Never so heavy as when they’re dead weight.
For men not accustomed to the weight of human bodies, moving a half dozen or so unconscious adults down a corridor, up a flight of narrow stone stairs, through a trap door, across a cellar, up a wooden staircase, down a hall, and into a comfortable drawing room is no small feat.
It was sweat and sore backs that made it happen, that and some considerable determination. What, after all, were they supposed to do? Leave a heap of unconscious bodies lying pell-mell across the dirt floor before a portal which--so it seemed--they had had a hand in making? No, the two professors were better men than that.
It hadn’t been graceful work, grabbing wrists and ankles, grunting with the strain of lifting and pulling, taking what care they not let the strangers’ heads bang against corners or doorjambs as they moved them.
By the time they felt certain that no one else would suddenly drop through the portal that they’d never meant to make, and they’d dragged the last of the sleepers into the drawing room of the house, pulled the dust-cloths from chairs and couches, and propped their visitors safely in place, Taylor and Elias felt like nothing so much as ham-handed puppeteers surrounded by a motley collection of life-sized dolls.
But at least their charges were alive. Alive and, by the looks of it, human. Perhaps not all that different from the two rather strange men who’d approached them a few days ago making such fantastic claims about their origins.
If it had happened to them, then couldn’t it happen again? Was that also what had transpired here?
Clad in their shirtsleeves and showing every bit the ordeal the night had put them through, Taylor managed to light a fire in the grate and while Elias turned up the wicks of the oil lamps. Then, standing at the far end of the room to survey the unreal scene before them, they bent their heads together to whisper: what had happened in the chamber below? Who were all these people? Was this, indeed, a case of accidental travelers from other worlds? And what were they to do next?
As luck would have it though, they didn’t need to wonder for very long because, at last, whatever force had deprived this ragtag group of wakefulness was now lifting, and they were beginning to wake.
The only question now was what in the world they were supposed to say to them.
[OOC: Whether characters remember any hazy, semi-conscious snippets from their trip through the portal or being dragged upstairs to the drawing room is up to players to decide. The experience of passing through the portal can feel like anything you’d like, but it would rarely be experienced as something pleasant.
Feel free to mingle and thread-hop, add your own new threads or tag into the ones we’ve set up below. You need not wait to tag with the NPCs first unless you want to. The room isn’t all that big, so everyone is within earshot.
Let’s keep this log confined to the drawing room. If you want to explore other areas of the house, please make your own log posts or action posts on the main comm. (Remember that for now, there’s no phone service in the house and also no electricity.)]