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πππππππ π: ππππ
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This month's patron is Odin the Allfather. Outside the back entrance of the hotel, down a little path to the side, you'll find a narrow, hedge-lined path that leads to a small clearing among some of the forest trees. There are a few benches on either side, an invitation to sit and think, or even to sit and talk, because while you're here, it feels as if you're not alone — though there isn't anyone to see past the other hotel guests who might be wandering about. At the center of the clearing is a moderately sized altar carved out of stone. The table of the altar stands about waist high and is large enough to place a downed deer... or lay a person on. The stone itself looks old, the edges worn smooth and that light gray now darker from being exposed to the elements over the years. The spots on top of the table, well, it wasn't uncommon to leave sacrificial offerings to the gods in the past, but it's probably best not to ask what the darker stains are if you don't want to know. There's a large slab rising up from the back of the table to stand over it, which comes to a point at the top. On the slab are carvings of ravens, wolves, something that looks to be similar to that frustrating black tree that appears if you've been hiking; though on this carving there appears to be a man hanging by one leg from one of the branches with runes falling around him. There's also a large α¨ in the center of the slab and even if you don't know Norse mythology and any of its gods, you get the impression that it represents Odin. Why don't you try leaving an offering? β |
Εs byþ ordfruma Η£lcre sprΗ£ce, wΔ«sdΕmes wraþu and wΔ«tena frΕfur, and eorla gehwΔm Δadnys and tΕ hiht
(click to expand)
I. SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES (ARRIVALS)
double, double, toil and trouble β«βͺ
The hotel bus shows up just after dinner on Saturday, May 1st, impeded from its usual noontime arrival by of a flat tire and a delayed flight from the United States. A load of new guests disembark — along with a group of high school (NPC) students, but so many you'd wonder how they'd fit into their ride. They're loud and rowdy, clad in robes common to British boarding schools, and they fill up the place quickly, never seeming to run out of energy or just stop chattering.
They also interrupt what's supposed to be a chill barbecue bonfire that evening. The hotel staff do the best they can to get the new arrivals settled, and also apologize profusely to their valued guests, who'd checked in weeks or even months before.
For those staying on the eighth floor, what's incredibly strange is that the students seem to have the same rooms as some of the other guests. And yet there's been no discussion of being double booked where the students are concerned. Those that have rooms on the sixth floor will note that the students do seem to gravitate toward that floor like they are staying on it. They even have keys for the different rooms, getting off the elevators chatting rapidly to their friends like this is completely normal. But after unlocking and opening the door to the room, they simply vanish in the steps that take them over the threshold. Or did you walk past a room only to have the door seemingly open on its own but then suddenly a student is just magically walking out of it into you?
The sounds of chatter and students running up and down the hallway at all hours of the night will also be heard even when there doesn't seem to be a student in sight. Or, is that thump and sounds of someone walking around actually coming from the bathroom in your room? Does the bed seem to dip like someone's just gotten into bed with you despite no one being there? The students are here for the duration, so you might want to find a way to cohabitate with your invisible guest. Or find someone who's willing to share their room with you, because any calls to the front desk for a room change will be answered with apologies, but the hotel is full booked so there is no room to move you to.
The week's itinerary follows that of the TDM:Throughout the week, people just randomly show up in the different scenic areas outside the hotel, but when they arrive at the front desk they have a room waiting for them despite the place supposedly being full. Though some end up being double booked... and won't realize it until their roommate comes banging the door in the middle of the night, or steps out of the shower. (Lalala.) Please see the Arrivals tab of our directory for the complete list and details!
- May 2, Sunday - FREE DAY
- May 3, Monday - Massage and Yoga
- May 4, Tuesday - Hiking
- May 5, Wednesday - Pool Party
- May 6, Thursday - Spelunking
- May 7, Friday - Chocolate Demonstration
II. HOO-HOO! BIG SUMMER BLOWOUT! (BONFIRE)
hygge means sitting by the fire with your cheeks all rosy β«βͺ
The following Saturday, May 8th, the hotel bus is late again. Or so the guests assume, since everyone in the hotel is busy and occupied with the summer blót, a feast for the Norse god of war, Odin.
There's a bonfire and face painting and singing and dancing, teenage boys and girls in Viking-inspired costumes (yes, they're still there!), and of course, free-flowing booze and lots of good food. The mead is particularly popular, for it's not only really delicious, it's also extremely potent, able to get even the broodiest of brooders loosening up and those normally unaffected by alcohol inebriated.
That's perhaps why nobody remembers new people arriving that evening?
III. TAG, TAG, TAG, TAG (WAR GAMES)
baby, tag, you're it β«βͺ
The hotel bus still hasn't arrived. Or has it? Everyone's nursing a hangover on Sunday, May 9th — or at least, something that feels like a hangover. Even the students are affected, mostly keeping to their rooms and requesting room service instead of going down to the restaurant for meals.
The quiet doesn't last though, because there is a disturbance in the Force on the sixth floor, and porgs start appearing by the dozen well before the day is over. They're cute... until they start screaming. That's not going to help with everyone's hangover at all, no. And they especially seem to like calling out to one another in the wee hours of the night.
The week's itinerary reads:Those who go hiking during and after the night of the new moon will report sightings of an old, blackened tree — but once you turn and walk away from it, it disappears. The tree also never seems to be quite in the same place.
- May 10, Monday - Pilates and Zumba
- May 11, Tuesday - Stargazing (because it's the new moon)
- May 12, Wednesday - Norwegian Cakefest
- May 13, Thursday - Hiking
- May 14, Friday - Lakeside Barbeque
During the lakeside barbecue, the guests will be handed out flyers for a game of outdoor laser tag on Saturday, May 15th, to be held out in the forest. The hotel staff has even already formed the groups and appointed team captains to save everyone the trouble. So it's time to gather around and strategize!
... Aw c'mon, don't be a spoilsport. What could go wrong with a game of laser tag?
A lot, actually. If you refuse, your audience of NPC students (management says they're too young to play) will grow hostile and start a smear campaign against you. Because they're petty like that. Did you want caricature mugshots of you posted on the bulletin board? Called names and pranked? That's the fate that awaits you.
And if you play, well, there's a chance that you're walking away injured — and you're not finding that out until well into the game. When did laser tag hurt? Apparently it does now. What are they using for these laser guns, anyway?
The outcome of the match will be OOCly influenced by several factors:
1. who the team captain is (teams can stick with their staff-appointed leader, or choose a different person, or have someone declare themselves leader, or even not select a captain at all)
2. how many in your team are playing
3. who are playing
4. what runes were selected for those who are playing
5. your team's overall strategy
6. good ol' RNG
Check out the Laser Tag tab of directory for the team assignments, and the OOC post for more details as well as plotting and the check in. The game will also result to some characters getting injured and requiring medical attention (if they play), though it's to the players' discretion where and how they get injured. The game will likewise be a memory regain opportunity for the Afterlife arrivals (and Julia).
The members of the winning team will each receive a Viking drinking horn with their names carved on it.
IV. WITHOUT YOU IS HOW I DISAPPEAR (MYSTERIES)
drain all the blood and give the kids a show β«βͺ
The laser tag mishap isn't the only thing that causes a ruckus in the following week. On Sunday, May 16th, the bus that's supposed to take the students and some of the guests back to Oslo is nowhere to be found, and the hotel staff will insist that they're not supposed to check out yet. If you get angry and insist on speaking with a manager, you'll find that their records will match with what the staff's saying. You're not due to leave until... a very faraway date.
The hotel is also suddenly littered with missing posters. At first it starts in the business center, for someone named Chewie, but as the days pass you will find more posters and handwritten notes on the bulletin board at the front desk. They're people you don't know... or do you? Why do you have a vague recollection of who they are?
(Remember all those people who tagged around the TDM but didn't make it? Yup, they're the missing ones.)
The hotel management assures that the authorities have been alerted and efforts are being undertaken to find and bring back the missing individuals, but a week passes with no visible progress. Investigations initiated by the guests will not yield any results, and excursions into the forest and the surrounding areas will only result in the frustrating black tree experience on the TDM. Those who pay particular attention to the tree will even start dreaming of it — though it seems to be worse for one John Constantine of the tree carving fame. Others might just get a cute shadow bonsai dancing like Groot, or maybe the tree playfully shaking its booty, but John's is more of the creepy variety.
The daily activities will continue as scheduled, but they'll be exactly the same as the first week, and by Friday, May 21st, all activities will be restricted indoors. Not as fun, because even with the movie room and the karaoke room tensions are already higher than usual in the premises. The students' smear campaigns are getting worse, targeting those who didn't participate in laser tag, those who stole from the bar or the gift shop, those who have been snooping around, those who have pets or have brought in hordes of animals, heck even the winning laser tag team isn't safe from being blamed for the series of unfortunate events.
Thankfully, things haven't gotten violent... yet. But wait, what are these whispers of a ritual sacrifice?
TO BE CONTINUED...
Fifth Floor (Locked for Jeyne)
They shared a door between them, as well as a wall, and he didn't want to worry his fellow guests. Besides, as odd as this place was, he had a feeling being aware of who was around him would be smart.
He knocked on room 507's door, looking as preemptively contrite as he honestly was. It was awkward, but he felt like being a better neighbor than some of those he had to suffer in his existence of spending tons of time in hotels.
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These were idle thoughts she had, quickly brooded over before leaving her mind. So when John knocked on her door, it was a bit surprising to see this burly, big man in front of her. For a moment, she had to wonder if she did something wrong? Had she kept him up with her pacing at night?
"Hello?"
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He was a calloused looking man, rough around every edge, scarred and scruffy, but managed to be disarmingly restless, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly not able to find a place to put his hands. He'd seen women in the hotel who were clear fighters, ones that were bookish and sweet, but this woman came across as fancy beyond what he was comfortable speaking with. He wasn't very fancy, himself, and never tried to put on airs to be.
"Pardon my abruptness, I wanted to tell you my partner'n I, we tend to get up to some rowdy things, and I didn't want to alarm you. If you get upset with the noise, you can bang on the door between us, and we'll keep it down. I'd rather not be them sorts of neighbors who disturb everyone around us." He looked up to her face from the floor, and his dark eyes looked over her expression. "So sorry in advance."
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She was a small girl, thin and not intimidating in the least. She looked like she could at least withstand the wind, but not offer much of a fight. Her eyes were a bit more furtive and fearful, though sadness was the more dominating figure in her gaze. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Manners, Jeyne. He's stuck here like you.
"Oh," she glanced over in the direction of his room. "I like the noise." She blushed, ducking her head at the admission. "My husband...he was at war and his men could be rowdy and loud. I think the quiet would be more of a shock than anything you do in your rooms. Don't worry on my account...I'd actually prefer it." She wasn't fond of the quiet or the dark, it left her unnerved and shaken by her memories.
"No need to apologize."
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He finally rested his hands on his belt - a gun belt with two revolvers and a knife at his hip - and he smiled sheepishly, still contrite despite how she said things would be fine. "Well, that's real fine, Jayne of House Westerling, thank you," he said, addressing her by how she properly introduced herself. No need to have a lady - probably a proper Lady - bend herself around the common civility. If she was more comfortable saying it that way, he'd say her name that way, as well.
He tilted his head, then smiled a little, "Don't mean to pry, but where you're from, you wouldn't happen to have direwolves and dragons, would you? I just happened to meet a feller," he kept things vague, and still hadn't stopped fidgeting from one foot to the other, "who told me about a place like that. Where I'm from, they don't have that sorta thing. But he spoke about a war, too."
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"The war is over," her voice was soft and pained. "My husband was killed." It might be a bit too much to unload on a stranger, but the words made it all the more real for her. It was why she wanted him to make noise or be rowdy. It might be the best distraction from her misery and fears.
She did her best to smile, hoping to be kind and friendly to this stranger. "What sort of world do you come from? It must be rather dangerous if you have the habit of noise and rowdiness." Was he even used to a place like this or was it as strange to him as it was to her?
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"My condolences," John said, in a tone that spoke to having suffered that sort of loss. It may have been over 50 years prior, but she had been the love of his life, he'd lived for her, done everything for her. Having lost his wife still sent ripples of grief through him. But he didn't say anything to it, although his expression said a lot. "I'm sure he was a good man, if his brother is anything to go by."
Then she asked about his world and that pain dissipated somewhat. He shifted again, and gave a small smile. "Oh, that's a pretty loaded question," John said with a chuckle in his tone. "My world's changed a lot since I was born. N'I'm pretty sure most everyone of a certain age makes those sorts of noises I'm talkin' about. She and I are... passionate" He cleared his throat, hoping that would explain things without being blunt about it.
But back to the less embarrassing part of the question. "I grew up in a pretty rowdy group, though, yeah. Livin' in tents and wagons, gettin' around by horse. You have a while? We could walk and talk, it feels kind of awkward hoverin' in the hallway and doorway."
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"He was," she murmured. "You have spoken often to Jon?" She was pleased at least their Robb's brother was managing to settle. This wasn't a place he belonged and it was certainly not a safe place to be. Yet he wasn't so standoffish as he appeared. He seemed to be capable of making friends as easily as Robb had been.
"Oh," her face paled as she understood what he was speaking of. Jeyne lowered her face, letting her hair cover her burning cheeks. It wasn't a subject that she was unfamiliar with. Robb's men had made similar noises in the camp, sometimes very loudly. Still, to have that clarified, intruding on a subject that she had no business in, she felt a bit embarrassed. "You must be...very close." She did her best to brush it aside and laughed nervously.
"Of course." She turned to grab her cloak and stepped into the hall. "Forgive me, I should have invited you in."
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He waved his hand before him, dismissive, "Sorry, sorry, that was too blunt of me. I'd like to think we're close, been together for a little over fifty years. Longer just as friends." He didn't look older than mid-30s. The way he spoke of Sadie and their relationship though, it bolstered his pride, made him stand a little straighter. To say they were close was a bit of an understatement, in his mind. He loved fully and strong, and every atom of him showed it.
And then he waved off her apologies, "I don't like intrudin' into a lady's space, seems a rough man like me would make a mess of it somehow, even if all I did was stand there. Um." He stepped back from the doorway, and offered an arm. It was only polite, and it showed he was ready to protect her, if he needed to. "I ain't too used to fancy folk. Never was very fancy, myself. Like I said, tents and wagons."
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She shook her head, "It is a normal thing." And given that she had been equally blunt with Lady Catelyn, she couldn't exactly blame him. She could tell how deeply he loved this woman, specifically from the ways he spoke of her and the look on his face when she crossed his mind. It was lovely, but it still pained her, reminding her of all she lost.
"I wouldn't call myself 'fancy'." She was able to gather what that meant. "My family once had prestige through our name and background, but now we are regarded poorly. Our lack of wealth and crumbling status means that many look down on us." But it was flattering he was willing to look after her and treated her with respect. She took his arm with a grateful smile. "Please, be yourself. I have grown used to similar men at my husband's camp."
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He chuckled then, shaking his head once again to her assertion she wasn't fancy. To him, she was refined, not lacking in social graces. He didn't care about prestige or wealth. When one was raised with etiquette, it showed. He... wasn't.
He bowed his head momentarily to her asking him to be himself. "I ain't in the habit of actin' like anyone else, lady Westerling." He couldn't, even if he had need to. Acting wasn't part of who he was, it was a lie, and he found himself incredibly hard pressed to lie to anyone. He was honest. He may have been a bad man, done bad things, regretted more than most, but he was always true to himself and what his perspective was.
He tilted his head to her talk of loss of power and status. "From my perspective, what matters is the actions of the individual. It might be different when it comes to houses and families of note, but when you're raised without a name, what you do speaks louder than any deeds of your ancestry." He gave a one-shouldered shrug, not knowing exactly how to put things better than that. To be raised an orphan and outlaw had its freedoms as well as troubles. He never wanted to make a name for himself. It wound up being a little harder not to, when one lived an extraordinary life.
"What's your family's home like? Jon Snow spoke of the North a bit, about its forests and the cold, how his family's lands are more wild than the rest of Westeros. Where I live now, it's wild grassland. Arid, but pretty. I live far outta the cities, always have. But I've been just about everywhere in our country."
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"Jeyne," she insisted. It technically wasn't Lady Westerling since her marriage, but Lady Stark. Even that wasn't entirely accurate. She was queen for a time. Now, she wasn't certain anymore, only there would be various names used for her. Here, she could at least be called something simple. "Only Jeyne."
She smiled at him sadly, "It must be easier in your world to speak with actions rather than anything else. I'm a woman and everything I can and cannot do is dictated by the men around me." But still, her face lightened. "Small acts of defiance or meaning are all I was capable of before." But still, she utilized them where she could. The dress she arrived in still in tatters in her hotel room, a sign of mourning for her husband.
"We lived in the Westerlands. There are more hills and cliffs there and it is far warmer. My family's home was next to the ocean. We don't live near many villages, only the ones under my father's care. Beyond that, our keep is falling apart and crumbling."
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Speaking of old customs, he had to sigh. A man-driven world of very little use for women. He knew what that was like. Nowadays, the WLF had been bucking those standards and to the proper end. He'd surrounded himself with women who were far more outspoken than the socially demure and those who 'stayed sweet', for lack of a better term. He hadn't ever understood the patriarchal mindset, himself. Women in his life had always been independent, and the most feminine one in his recollection was his wife, who had a meaner tongue and right hook than most men of their time. His partner now, she was even more the image of feminine strength. A wild woman, a lioness.
Of course, when he responded a moment after she spoke, it was a quick, "Nah, that's about right for our world, too. But the difference is, women secretly control the men, whether the men choose to admit it or not." He got a lopsided little smirk at that. It was about as true as anything else, in his estimation.
When he listened to where she came from, he could picture it in his mind. It reminded him of north of LA, the cliffs and ocean, the warmth. The crumbling keep upon the cliffs was easy to envision. And it made sense about her house and the way she said it had fallen considerably in favor. Houses in decline were nothing foreign to John. The Collyer brothers came to mind. Coming from a prominent family from Victorian times, only to be found dead amidst the wreckage of their lives and hoard of useless things.
He gave things a quiet think over, before asking, "Did you see much of the world when you and Jon's brother were married? It must have been a pretty big experience, for someone whose life was lived primarily in a crumblin' keep. I presume. Don't know how many women travel in your world. Back in the days I'm from, most women didn't do a whole lotta travel on their own."
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She was young and time might have changed things. If she had a child, perhaps. It was hard to say now if she could be that woman. Here there was more freedom, but she was still a bird staring at the open cage door, not quite grasping the full enormity of it all.
"I suppose more than I thought I would." Her smile was soft and sad, as it always became when the mention of Robb surfaced. "He was waging war against our liege lords and he attacked our keep. I never saw war before then. After, when we married, I followed him to the Riverlands. There I largely stayed at his mother's family keep. When he died, I was being transported back to our home, but found my way here instead." It didn't seem like a big adventure in her mind, but compared to what she knew and the other girls she'd grown up around, it was bigger than she imagined.
"I would have liked to have seen the North."
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But things happened. And death took most everyone eventually. His own sad smile followed with hers.
"I suppose the up side to all that is that you were kept safe, and the travel you did opened up a world you might have never seen. I don't see any reason why you can't see the North, once we can leave the hotel." If they could ever leave. John wasn't so sure that was a possibility. But rather than worry the woman, he kept those thoughts to himself.
"What do you think of the odd parts of this hotel? I can't imagine electricity's anythin' but a marvel for you." He pointed at a wall sconce light as they passed it, on the way through to the foyer. "Flameless light, for example." He came from a time that electricity was anything but common. The first city he'd been in that had electric lights through the outside of downtown made him curious as to how it worked, after he stopped being so damn skittish about it.
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There was also the matter of where she might be, if the hotel let her leave. Would she be back in those woods? The Lannisters would look for her. She had no warriors at her disposal, only herself and there was a great unlikelihood that she could manage on her own. It was better to remain where she was for now.
"I don't like touching the switch that lights it." She admitted shyly. Every time she reached for her, she worried about a sudden shock or flame. She'd jump away as soon as flipping it. "I like that it's warm in the hotel and I don't need to light fires everywhere."
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He was glad to get away from harder thoughts and memories for the lady, and tilted his head. "There's other things you'd probably find a marvel. There's radios - um..." He tried his best to find a way to explain that, "Ways to listen to music without livin' players. They found a way to record sound down like you would writin'. And radios, they're tantamount to magic, to me. Sendin' those recordings all over through unseen, unheard energy, to be picked up by devices that play those sounds back." Nevermind televisions, those were still a bafflement to John, being able to show movies like they could play music. How someone could beam movies through the air was baffling to him.
"And photography. That don't require electricity. It's bein' able to hold a device," he pointed at his own camera at his hip, held there by a strap over his shoulder, "point it at what you want to capture the likeness of, n'then bein' able to develop as many copies of that image as you'd like. It takes a special kind of chemical and a special kind of paper, but you can keep memories just as clear as you can see 'em in the moment." And boy did he love that.
He had a photograph of his partner in his wallet, so he pulled the folded leather case out of his pocket, and showed her it. There stood a pretty blonde woman in the photo, with a scar over one eyebrow, a cigarette in hand, and a smirk on her lips and in her eyes. "This is a photo of my lovely partner, missus Sadie Adler. She's a fighter like me. She's around here in the hotel."