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[destinedking.livejournal.com]

[There is a table, and it is round, because round tables are nice. Sitting around the table are three men. Well, one boy and two men? Either way, there are three males sitting around a table, waiting to talk to YOU]

[Arthur, sitting at one curve of this table stands up, addressing the Plane at large]

If I could have every one's attention. It seems we are stuck here for the forseeable future unless we can discover what choice was made. As I’m unaware of any progress in discovering this information, I’d like to propose that anyone who knows anything, no matter how insignificant it may seem, should come forward.

I know some of you are able to return home now, others have received pies [which is clearly as important as going home] - and still others seem to be suffering in incredibly bizarre ways.

[There’s also a redhead here who is just leaning back with his hands linked behind his hair.] And some people have been asked other choices, right? So you should tell us. If you’re lying about getting one, then it just looks more suspicious.

[And the third individual is, surprise, Nathan. He is playing with a pen, but he attempts to act like he has some measure of focus.] And, uhhh... don’t... don’t... ummmm... just, uh... [Nathan isn’t good at public speaking.] Actually, uh, you know. Whoever- whoever can, can, uh... go home. Fuck you.

[He looks over to Arthur and Luke.]

That is, um, all I have. To say.

[Arthur gives Nathan a look, raising an eyebrow, before sitting down]

Eloquently put. Moving along...

Simply put, our strength is in our numbers. If we work together we have a better chance of discovering who is responsible for our current situation.

[Luke ends up leaning across the table on his elbows, frowning.] And it’s not like anyone else is helping. Someone has to around here. So just start pulling it together already!


((ooc; purple=Arthur, red=Luke, green=Nathan. Threadhopping and things may ensue, and all the usual stuff of group posting hijinks.))

((ooc; also, since this is an info sharing post and all, feel free to treat it like a party post and tag around and things!))

Comments

[oliverplus]

Yeah, you said that! Who can do that?

[onehundredbeers]

I don't know his name, but I know he's a prick. And he's gay. Or at least- least a fucking cross dresser.

[He finishes writing and passes Oliver back the datapad.]

Just- just look for a dude in a dress. That's him.

[oliverplus]

[raises an eyebrow] Uh...I don't think I've met him.

[takes the datapad back] Cheers! I hope that helps.

I've...also maybe got a theory about what this is all for, but I'm not sure it's what's really happening. Or what to do about it, if it is.

[onehundredbeers]

Might as well, um, tell me. I don't think any of us are going to- going to be going anywhere. Soon.

[He removes his glasses and puts them away.]

[oliverplus]

[smiles faintly] Good point.

Well...uh...do you know about the black hole?

[onehundredbeers]

Whoa, there's a black hole?!

[oliverplus]

Yeah. Except there's a sort of wall around it right now. [scratches his head] Okay, so... [pauses, trying to figure out where to start] Basically, the black hole leads to some way to control the Plane--or the Machine that runs it, at least. If somebody goes in the black hole, they become the God in the Machine. That's what we've been told, at any rate.

[onehundredbeers]

[Nathan listens intently.]

Uh-huh. That, uh, sounds like something I'd write about.

[oliverplus]

[blinks] You write?

Anyway, as far as we know, there are at least two groups who want to run the Plane. They want to pick their own God for it, so they're fighting each other to do that.

These choices--they might be one group's way of trying to decide who to choose as their God.

oh god i'm so tired I'm making tense or whatever typos.

[onehundredbeers]

I'm a musician.

[But he shushes, trying to listen and pay attention.]

Why would, uh, they bother? God... or Gods are overrated.

No worries!

[oliverplus]

[raises an eyebrow] What sort?

They want to control the Plane, and if your God is running things, you get to run things, too. At least, I think that's what they're fighting for.

Re: No worries!

[onehundredbeers]

Death metal.

But, uh, it's... space. What the fuck do they need to, to control space for? [He seems somewhat confused by this.] Ughhhhh. Okay, you know what, I- I am saying right here. Right now. I refuse to get involved. With that. God... fighting shit.

[oliverplus]

Ohh. [that at least makes sense]

Uh...okay. You know...[smiles faintly, unable to help being amused by Nathan's slightly over-the-top reactions]...honestly, I don't think any of us would want to. But I think that's why they're forcing us to make these choices.

[onehundredbeers]

[Believe me, Oliver, this is only the surface to overreaction.]

Well, they haven't forced me to. So, I guess, uh, they already know that... I don't give a shit.

[oliverplus]

[blinks] Hey, you might be onto something there! Maybe who's getting the choices is important, too--not just what the choices are.

Has anything happened to you at all?

[onehundredbeers]

Other than get stuck here? Uh, nothing. I mean, unless, unless you count, um, getting some sweet battle axes... fighting monsters... getting my fucking legs torn up to hell by a fucking invisible monster...

[He pauses.]

But, uh, if you're not including- not including all that? Nothing. Perfectly fine here. Everything is leaving me the fuck alone.

[oliverplus]

Hah, yeah, I guess that was a bad way to put that... But, basically, you've only had to deal with the stuff we all have--no choices or randomly appearing pies or anything. Right?

...wait, invisible monster where?

[onehundredbeers]

Water. Don't- don't go in any water, alright?

[Nathan stands to illustrate some of the damage done, he pulls up a shredded jean leg to display all the gashes, rends, and lacerations on his leg.]

Yeah, uh. You don't wanna deal with that, buddy.

[A pause.]

And, um, no. Nothing.

[oliverplus]

Whooooa, that's a mess! You need to bandage that!

[onehundredbeers]

Nah, I'm fine.

[He sits back down.]

Uh, I'll go to the hospital when I can go back home. Have- have a doctor look at it. I, uh, I can't... feel it anyway.

[oliverplus]

What do you mean you can't feel it!?

[onehundredbeers]

Oh, uh, I just don't feel pain a lot. I dunno, I'm just sort of lucky. Like it kind of hurt when I was getting attacked? But it, no, not that bad. I've had glass through my head, didn't even hurt!

[oliverplus]

Whoa... [isn't sure what to say for a moment, but his protective streak isn't done yet] Okay, but...that still can't be good!

[onehundredbeers]

Okay, pal. I am not going to try to give myself stitches. I- I am not, uh, good at it. Anyway, I'm not bleeding. Anymore. Though, uh, if you go to the bar... the dried pool of blood, that's mine.

[oliverplus]

What about bandages!?