taxonomites | 052 [text | location: around the island] on the shore just long enough to leave our clothes there

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052 [text | location: around the island] on the shore just long enough to leave our clothes there

Glitch is so very happy to be back on land where he's 100% less useless. Sure it's not the city (or home) but it's better than being on that miserable boat.

In the jungle (the mighty jungle) there is a large hamster idol carved from limestone. It sits up on its haunches and smiles a benevolent hamster smile, and atop its head is a floral headdress. More interestingly: its right paw is definitely a hatch touchpad, and it holds in its left paw the traditional hatch replicator box thing.

Glitch stares at it dubiously, then slaps his hand down and thinks desperately of toothpaste. The box produces a bottle of rum, which gets tucked into the satchel he's fashioned from the sleeves of his giant white pirate shirt. He tries again, this time thinking of ball-peen (...wait, who even came up with that name?) hammer and some nails. The hatch responds with directions for making a shelter with palm fronds and vines.

After some trial and error (and another bottle of rum and some paper umbrellas), the hatch does produce useful things like a length of insulated copper wire, a Hawaiian print shirt and some Bermuda shorts, a pair of pliers, and sunscreen.

"...well, it's a start," Glitch mutters, then hauls everything back to the shady spot he's claimed a little ways from the beach. There he lays the pliers and wire down beside the metal-containing ship debris that had washed up, and set about composing a text to everyone.

NOTES:
- Found a hatch, marked approx. location on map. Temperamental but will give useful stuff (!SUNSCREEN!) plus random items.
- The temple: have not explored, not sure if safe, be careful if you check it out. Do not go alone.
- Swear I heard drumming last night. Might be delusional.
TO DO:
- Work w/tablets. Have more tools & materials now. Power boost? Antenna? Help appreciated.
- Go back to ship for supplies: sailcloth, rope, anything useful. Build raft for this? Volunteers? (~~Not it!~~)
- Build hammock.

That done, he heads back into the jungle for his daily swim. The island is fortunately riddled with cenotes to provide drinking water and places to cool off without getting saltwater sticky. Glitch has found a favorite with a good mix of shade and sun, water crystal clear and deep enough for diving, and just secluded enough that he can get away with skinny dipping.

That last bit is likely inaccurate.

OOC: Oh hey it's another huge note! WELCOME TO THE ISLAND enjoy your naked headcase. He will be out there every day, so go bug him or join in and fret not about continuity. Or bump into him anywhere, godmoding of that nature is go. TABLET FOLKS: there is going to be so much handwaving with this plot I can't even tell you. To the point of "let's congratulate ourselves on how awesome our geniuses and electric lady are" and moving on with end results.

This post can also be used as a log post for non-Glitch related hijinks like setting up shelters, building rafts, and other mingling.
DETAILS ON THE TEMPLE: Think Temple of Doom meets Legends of the Hidden Temple meets The Mummy. There are 100% godmodey deathtraps, the nature and degree of dangerousness is totally up to you. There are also treasures...also godmodey, but a chest stuffed with toiletries is definitely in there somewhere.

DID GLITCH HEAR DRUMMING: Yes. Yes he did, and your folks may have too. ~Details to come~.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For something with...what doesn't look like feet, though who's Mick to say when he can barely see anything this soon out of the water.

"That sounds ominous." And again, like something out of Hollywood, but he won't judge. Not when he's named after one religious figure after another.

"So...are you an old vampire? You wouldn't have said 'young' if you didn't want to distinguish between the two, right?"

"He was rather ominous, though completely insane as well." He kicks his way to the shore, padding up and shaking off, tattered wings flapping as he did so.

"I was, a long time ago. Now, they are among my prey. Peace, I do not hunt in this world. You are far removed from the mindless husks of my brethren."

Mick nods, following the really weird, really utterly corpse-like guy onto somewhat drier land. Old age and insanity often go hand in hand in his experience. ~~Not that he has a clue, dear goodness, Kain~~

"...thanks. I think."

He drags himself up onto the glistening rocks, which are covered in moss-like plantlife here and there. His skin sloshes almost as wetly as fabric, if he were wearing anything aside a pair of bathing trunks.

"I do not deteriorate in this world like my own, the connection to my realm severed meaning I subsist just as I am, with no need to fuel the corpses I inhabit." He stretches out his wings and shakes them with his hands.

Wings.

Yeah, those look a lot like wings.

A vampire with wings...

Moving on, moving on. "We're not so lucky," he says, shaking some of the water from his hair like a dog.

"Sunlight bad. Darkness good."

"My kin were the same. But I flew in sunlight and walked through flames." He pulls off his scarf and wrings it out, wrapping it around his face before looking back to Mick. "Water was as acid though. Until I killed Rahab and devoured his soul."

There's something about coming to Taxon that means you have to at some point get accustomed to the fact you will without a doubt come across people or beings that you never in a million years would back home.

So, you adapt. You get an insanity filter installed in your brain right the heck away, and you deal with it.

But even an easy going guy like Mick has a limit. Corpse-like vampires with wings and arethosehooves? and allusions to 80's fantasy...fair enough. But nonchalant throwaway comments about murder and soul devouring takes the cake.

He gapes. And then he shuts his mouth, and tries again. "...you know, unless you give me some kind of context, that's not gonna impress me a lot. What is this, a pissing contest I didn't volunteer for?"

"I do not aim to impress. I'm too old to worry overly on the opinion of others, especially with a face like mine." His eyes crinkle and there's the definite impression that he's smiling. "But, if you wish context... Rahab was my brother. He was thousands upon thousands of years old, a blight upon the world with unending thirst for blood and a desire to die. He also helped to murder me.

"If that were not enough, it is what I am. A reaver of souls. I was created by fate itself to destroy the ancient and undying blight of my parasitic brothers and their kin."

"Ah."

Crisp, clear response, as responses go, and Mick's grinning the grin of fools and beggars lacking both choices and horses.

"Soul reaver. Gotta be hard getting references with a former job like that."

"No. Reaver of Souls. The Soul Reaver is a very special sword. My home. My body. Until I was put back in this hated corpse in this world."

His whole body seems to deflate. "Still. At least I can sail the air again."

"Check. Sorry, my bad."

He turns his head, giving the other vampire a level look.

"You know, I can hear you talk, and I know the words, but it's like you're talking a completely different language."

"I have felt that way from the moment I came to this world."

He gives him the same look back.

"Very different worlds, huh?"

He scratches a hand through his hair, and gah, he's just one bloated man sized heap of disgusting, isn't he.

"Starting tomorrow, I'm looking for a cave or something I can stay in during the day. I like not looking like an oceanic monster."

...or a bloated corpse, but he's got more tact than to use that comparison.

"No... not an ocean monster. A submerged corpse, maybe. Rahab's children would drown their prey, much more reminiscent of that." He nods sagely.

"I may know a place. Are you a confident swimmer?"

...huh. So much for tact.

Okay, then. Mick's not one to turn down help. He may doubt whether there's a catch or not, but he's not in a position to be picky.

If Raziel knows a place, then he knows a place.

"Sure. Just so long I don't get stuck somewhere."

Because wouldn't that be a fun way to spend the rest of his life-as-it-is.

"Hm. If you get stuck, I can pull you free. Or the rock away."

He dives back into the water, quickly becoming little more than just two glowing orbs and an inky shadow.

Mick draws a deep breath, watching the ancient guy go. He assumes he's ancient, from the way he talks, from the titles and whatnot. It fits the rest of him.

Then he glances at the entrance, where he keeps his bloodletting equipment and dry clothes. He can get those later.

With a weird sensation in his gut, he jumps in, following the twin orbs of light.

Raziel swims down, deep. He can see fine in the darkness and he assumes the young one can as well.

He pushes through a small, concealed hole, into a tunnel dimly lit by gently waving and fluorescing fungi. Raziel continues along, twisting his body just for the sheer enjoyment of moving as they swim.

He surfaces after some minutes into a dark cavern, where the only sound is the slow drip of forming stalactites and the only light comes from the underwater fungi. It's not big, but there's a a rocky area where a couple of people could make a camp. "Here. No sun, no heat, no maddening mortals."

It's strange, the things that suddenly hit you when you least expect it. You're caught between a rock and a hard place, swimming after an emaciated, corpse-like creature which, if you were back home you would never have trusted in a million years - and all you can think of is how incredibly pretty this island is.

It's not just a gilded cage, it's stunning.

Where on Earth would I ever have had the chance to see an underwater passage like this, except for on the Discovery Channel? There I was, seeing it with my own, half blinded eyes. I was there. I saw it. I lived it.

He breaks the surface, pushing out the water that's seeped into his lungs despite his best efforts, tossing back his hair to get a better view of the place.

Not what he expected. Not by far. And not by far, he of course means better than he could've imagined.

"This is perfect," he says, and there's surprise in his voice as well as an almost childlike amazement as he pulls himself out of the water. "Is that the only way in here?"

Raziel treads water in that odd way of his, shaking his head and dislodging water everywhere. "No. There is a second passage, but it is longer and narrower than the one we took in."

Mick gives a short, disbelieving chuckle that echoes faintly off the many stalactites. "It's beautiful. It's...it's perfect," he settles on, looking over at the other vampire.

Different worlds. Yeah, that just about sums it up.

"Thanks. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mick St. John."

And like that, the conversation is over, because Raziel dives beneath the water again, moving away with a flick of his feet. "I must return to tending the kraken cooking."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

052 [text | location: around the island] on the shore just long enough to leave our clothes there

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